#I would love to bring home flowers or trinkets to a femme

[goodboy4femmes]

Any femmes want flowers from a dorky butch?

[cupofcowboys]

Can I request that while charles is out hunting, he encounters witch/reader who is very lonely and looking for something to live for in life so he takes her back to the gang?

I really loved this concept so much, and I had a ton of fun writing it! I apologise that it took me a long time. I’m a slow writer at the best of times and I had a busy week. I hope it was worth the wait!

I went for a ‘realistic’ rendition of a witch, rather than fantastical. It’s my first time writing this so I’m kinda nervous lol. Enjoy!

TAGS: Minor Spoilers (Ch3), Femme Witch!Reader, SFW, Friendship, Romantic Friendship, Slight Angst, Witchcraft

TW: Depressive thoughts 

2,278 Words

-♥-

Wild rumours ran rampant throughout small towns. Yet Charles had never encountered a rumour quite so prolific as the “cursed woods”. Any traveller shuddered at the mere mention of its name, too afraid to recount the supposed horrors it held. From the little he could gather it was believed a terrible creature roamed the woods, slaughtering anyone who dared tread in its territory.

Pure superstition, he believed. If anything, it would turn out to be a particularly beastly bear or a cougar. Even so, he couldn’t deny that something felt off about these woods.

The air itself seemed to hum with energy. Whether benign or dangerous, he couldn’t tell. Whatever it was, it set him on edge. Constantly checking behind his back, half-convinced something was following him, lurking just out of sight. He shook off the feeling. Pure placebo stemming from campfire horror stories.

He had been tracking a small herd of deer for some time now. One of them had a beautiful pelt, but a mutilated leg. Putting it out of its misery would earn him a few dollars and fill bellies at camp. Crouching low, he stalked, pausing only to check if he was still on track. He hardly noticed the deathly silence pressing in around him.

That was until he felt a tug and snap on his navel. Glancing down, he half expected to see a tripwire. Yet there was nothing but air. He hesitated, the skin on his neck crawling as minute hairs stood on end. A distinct feeling of being caught in a trap crept upon him. Just as he considered turning tail and running, an uncharacteristic desire, his attention was diverted again. A door creaked open just beyond a clump of bushes ahead of him. Swallowing, he shifted behind a thick trunk to his left, concealing himself from view.

The soft patter of bare feet on grass grew louder as someone approached. Charles drew an arrow from his quiver, nocking it and tracing the feathers absently as he focused.

A shadow of a figure hit the forest floor beside him, and he leaped out from behind his hiding spot. Aiming straight at the figure, ready to release at a moment’s notice. He almost released the arrow from shock.

A woman unlike any other jumped in surprise at his appearance, clasping a hand to her chest. Her hair was loose and unkempt, her dress several years out of fashion and patched with a myriad of mismatched fabrics.

“Oh my, sir!” She breathed hard, chuckling good-naturedly. “You didn’t half give me a fright, jumpin’ out like that!”

It took Charles a moment to lower his bow slightly, still unnerved by this unusual person.

“You frightened me, too.” He explained, eyeballing her nervously.

“Well, it happens. Not many folks in these parts.”

You gazed at the curious stranger who had disturbed your wards. Many a year it had been since anyone came to visit. You had almost forgotten what other people looked like. Witches were rarely accepted into society. The last time a stranger found you, they had run away in terror at the sight of your powers. Isolation was a natural part of the cards fate had drawn for you. Now that the opportunity presented itself, you weren’t about to reject a guest. Especially not such a handsome one.

“Why don’t you put that away.” You suggested, gesturing to the bow in his grip. “I just brewed a pot of tea and there’s enough for two. I’m (full name), by the way.”

“Charles Smith.”

“A pleasure, Mister Smith.”

With a short incline of your head, you turned heel and made your way to your cabin. After a brief pause, the sound of heavy boots told you he had complied.

The cabin you called home was small. Barely larger than a single room in a normal house, it was easy to miss in the trees. Mostyour domicile was outdoors. An expansive garden was your pride and joy. Full of herbs, vegetables, and flowers. Each one held a use and more value than any could fathom. Your carefully placed wards were a preventative measure on the wildlife, who loved to snack on your hard work. But they were handy for alerting you to intruders too. Pushing the door open, you stepped into the cluttered mess you lived in. A prickling of embarrassment rushed to your face. Years of not expecting company enabled bad habits.

Aside from the roaring fireplace, all had was a single bed, dining table, a few chairs and a kitchen. Most of it was lost under tomes, handmade charms, unfinished projects, and trinkets. Humble and messy, but home.

“Sorry for the mess. You’re my first guest in… years!” You laughed, busying yourself with your aged teapot.

When he did not respond, you glanced over to find his eyes sliding over your domicile. You could practically hear him piecing together what you were. While you made a show of pouring tea into old, chipped cups, you were on the alert. If he turned into a threat, you were ready.

It was only at the sound of your chair scraping that he snapped out of it. Turning around, he stared at your unassuming frame, gesturing at the cup balanced on a book about birds. He reached forward and took it, but did not move to sit. His dark eyes followed your every movement like a bird of prey. Bringing the tea to your lips, you took a small sip and watched as he mirrored it. However, he sniffed the liquid suspiciously.

“It’s chamomile.” You smiled. “I usually add honey but I ran out.”

He took a small sip of the liquid and withdrew his hand. His eyes bored into yours, half-suspicious and half-curious. All you could do was smile back benignly.

“You live out here alone?” He questioned.

“Just me and the wilderness.”

“I see.”

“Are you a dangerous man, Mr Smith?”

“Maybe.”

Together you stared at each other, gauging and judging. A silent game of chess. But you were a better judge. Honing into the aura he possessed; light and darkness danced together, a haze of grey smoke from a burning fire. Hatred turned him into a fighter. Battles fought only when necessary.

“I don’t think so.” You shook your head, smiling. “You’re just the same as I am. Good people hated for what we can’t change.”

His eyes widened at your words, darting across your features in search of lies or malice. All he found was a genuine desire for connection. His shoulders relaxed, and he tugged the vacant chair towards him, dropping into it and lounging backwards.

“I guess so.”

Swirling the tea leaves in the bottom of your cup before taking a hearty gulp, you grinned. Now the tension was gone, you marvelled at the opportunity. How long had it been since you made a friend?

“So, what brings you to my little patch of woods?”

–-

Hours of conversation pass by without alerting either of you. Charles turned out to be a man of few but well-placed and educated words. Admittedly, the conversation consisted primarily of your ramblings and gushing. Years of pent up news, opinions and ideas rushed out with minimal prompting from your guest. At first, you felt nervous of irritating him, but he proved to be a thoughtful and inquisitive listener. Your openness and honesty provided him the courage to open up in turn. So, by the time your tummies began to rumble, you knew each other quite well.

After polishing off several helpings of your stew, Charles rose from his seat. You had forgotten just how tall he was.

“I have to go…” He began to explain, giving you a look that plainly told you he wished he didn’t.

“Of course! It’s nearly nightfall.”

“Thank you for the food and conversation.”

“It’s been a pleasure, Mr Smith.”

You stood and extended your hand out for him to shake. Taking it in his, he shook it gently and exchanged warm smiles. There was a single moment of hesitation before his hand left yours. He moved to the door and was pushing it open when you gasped.

He turned to you curiously, but you were busy rifling through the clutter. Scrabbling through years of untidiness, you finally found what you were looking for. Grinning, you hurried over to the man.

“Here.” You held a closed hand out to him. “Take this. For protection.”

Charles reached forward slowly, and you dropped a small trinket into his hands. A protective charm you’d made some months ago. He looked down at the object, thumbing it around curiously. Then, looking up at you with a smile that sent butterflies to your stomach, he spoke;

“Thank you. I will treasure it.”

You were still staring after him in embarrassed bewilderment when he whistled for his horse. Standing in the door as he mounted, you watched as he cantered off into the trees, a salute in your direction his final goodbye.

Wandering back into your home, you spotted Charles’ empty cup. Smiling, you picked it up. Gazing down into the scattered leaves, you began to read the shapes within. Hints to the future filled your heart with warmth you’d never dared feel or hope for.

–-

The coming months brought return visits from Charles, always staying longer than he intended. More than once he pitched a tent outside and stayed overnight, much to your delight. Loneliness, once an intimate friend, became a foreign entity. A relationship of trust grew as you revealed more of yourselves to each other. He knew the truth of your identity and you knew his. You were unsurprised to hear about his gang. The life of an outlaw had its tells, even to you. Yet if he had a choice, you knew he would never choose it. Just as you wouldn’t have chosen a life of isolation. This simple understanding was the foundation of your friendship. Never judging, always kind.

And yet… there was more. A spark that kindled into a flame. A quiet, subtle sort of shift. In his absences, you spent many hours mulling it over. Before Charles, your life had been empty. Void of any light and purpose. It sounds ridiculous to your own ears. The idea that men gave women purpose angered and frustrated you, it wasn’t an ideology you welcomed or embraced. But if Charles were a woman, it would be the same. Years without human interaction took its toll. Nights spent wondering if it would even matter if you were gone.

There was no one to mourn you. No one to notice. Just the forest. If it wasn’t for your will to live, you may have given up.

So when Charles failed to visit for almost a month, you began to lose hope again. The only person you had to share your life with was absent. Not a word came. Not since he’d promised to “see you again soon” and vanished. Part of you knew that he was prevented from visiting, but there was a darker part. A part that wanted to convince you he just didn’t like you. Or he was dead. You couldn’t decide which was worse.

As time slipped by, each day the same as the last, you found yourself devoid of light. Hope dwindled away and distractions proved ineffective. Too many hours spent staring off into space, wondering at the fate of your friend.

That was where you found yourself now. Sprawled on your back, staring up at the vast blue sky, listening to the sounds of the forest. A book lay by your head, forgotten. Slowly, your eyes began to droop. The summer heat and idleness a blanket pressing down upon you. Darkness fell and you knew no more.

“(Y/N)?”

“Mm?”

“Are you okay?”

You opened your eyes. A pair of dark, muddy boots were inches from your face. With a cry, you recoiled and looked up in shock. There he was. The man you had been dreaming of. Staring down at you with mild concern was Charles. Jumping to your feet, you hugged him tightly.

“Oh, Charles!” You exclaimed, pulling away to beam at him. “I thought you had forgotten about me!”

“Never.” He affirmed, taking your hand in his.

“Wh-Where did you go?”

“We had to move. I was afraid to bring you trouble, so I stayed away.”

“I appreciate it but… I missed you so much. It’s… lonely out here. I never noticed it before, but now… it’s unbearable! I can’t stand it!!” You detached yourself from him. “All this time I’ve been trying to hide it but… I… I just wait for you to visit. It’s the only thing that makes me happy. I’m sorry… I shouldn’t tell you all this.”

You turned away. Shame and embarrassment throbbed in your heart. It was one thing to think it all privately and another to dump it on his shoulders. He had no responsibility to keep your happy. No responsibility even to visit. But as you turned to apologise, he took your hand again.

Pulling you closer to him, he looked into your eyes. Matching his gaze, you could tell he was considering something.

“Come with me.” He muttered.

“What?”

“I said, come with me. It’s not an easy life but… if you joined the gang you would be safer.”

“Y-You mean become an outlaw… like you?”

“No. Not an outlaw… there are women. They help in other ways.”

You stared. Out of all the suggestions you had expected, none of them were this. But now you thought about it, why shouldn’t you join?

After all, the world already hated you.

“I think… I’d like that, Charles.”

-♥-

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