#dbba fic

[meraki-yao]

Happy Friday! Could I get ❤️ & Dead Boy Detectives please? 😊

Thank you my darling for the prompt!

❤️ 'Nothing to see here, carry on.'

This ended up way longer than I intended but here we are

“Shit shit shit shit——” Edwin and Charles dash through halls filled with people, mortal and supernatural alike, as a very angry warlock chases them down. At least according to their client and the man’s ridiculously rudimentary spellwork, he’s very much a beginner who has far too much hubris to think he can handle chthonic magic. He doesn’t even know that ghosts can have human disguises, as much as they are temporal. Which is why when Charles tosses him a hairclip that Edwin thinks he’s only seen once or twice among the disguises Charles fiddles with, he doesn’t think and clips it on. Before he could calculate their next course of action, or even stop to check what his disguise is, he’s roughly pushed into a dark hallway, back slamming against the wall. “Charles, what—” he gasps as Charles presses against his body, seemingly trying to hide Edwin’s whole body with his own. He’s put on a disguise as well, a thick metal ring on his right index, a young man in his mid-twenties in place of the eternal teenager. A quick look down and Edwin can tell that he’s assume the appearance of a woman of a similar age, in a sleek red silk dress and matching heels. He feels phantom heat rise up his neck as he realises the slit on the side of his leg. And how compromising the position this. “Please, bare with me and trust me,” Charles whisper, faces so close their lips almost touching, as he grabs onto Edwin’s waist and hoists him up, Edwin’s legs involuntarily wrapping around his own hips for balance. His other hand comes up to cover the side of Edwin's jaw, palm hiding their mouths. Their far too close, and Edwin, despite not needing to breath, feels like he’s going to faint like a Victorian maiden in the summer’s heat. “Show yourself!” A man’s voice shouts as a obnoxiously bright light shines on their forms. Right, they’re on a case, this isn’t real. Edwin feels his chest ache, but there’s no time for feelings now. He plays along, lets out a dainty gasp and wraps his arms around Charles’ shoulder, burying his face into the side of Charles’ neck. “Nothing to see here, sir” Charles says to the warlock, and Edwin can hear the smirk in his voice. Part of Edwin faintly wonders if Charles would end up with this charm and charisma if he got to grow up, just how many men and women would turn their heads at him. “Just me and my lady having some fun, carry on please.” The warlock stutters, excuses himself and runs off to look for them somewhere else. What an idiot. “Charles?” “Yeah?” “You can put me down now.” “Oh, right.” He puts him down and takes a step back, and suddenly the space between them feels like a galaxy. “Listen mate, I’m really sorry about that,” Charles says, eyes failing to meet Edwin’s. “I don’t know what but I couldn’t think of anything else, I didn’t mean to—” “It’s alright, Charles”, Edwin cuts his apology off, reaching out to grab his hand. “I know.” “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I don’t want you to feel like I’m playing with your feelings towards me or some shit like that, I really just need more time, I’m so sorry I—” “Charles.” His eyes finally snap up. Edwin smiles, this time his hand coming up to cup Charles’ cheek. “I know. You could never hurt me.”

I might turn this into a full fic someday? I'm also starting to feel sleep deprived so please bare with me if there's any mistakes 😅

[meraki-yao]

Happy Friday! Can I have Payneland please? Your prompt is 'bumblebee' 💛

Thank you for the prompt my dear!

In the rare cases where Edwin smiles a full grin, teeth and all, All Charles can think of is the word “bloom”, like the petals of a flower unfolding under the first rays of sunlight. And like a bumblebee, Charles can’t help but be drawn.

[meraki-yao]

Happy Ficlet Friday! I'd love a Payneland fic please 🥰

Thank you for the request my dear! Have some Lover Boy Charles Rowland:

Does Charles love Edwin? What a stupid question. Because what else can you do? What else can you do for a stranger who offered kindness before he uttered a word to you, who gave you warmth when your body was turning to ice, who stayed with you and talked and read to you until you passed, who made dying feel like falling asleep to a bedtime story? What else can you do for someone who has had the worst kind of injustice the worst of mind could ever fathom inflicted upon him, yet still find the strength to fight, to help and to heal? Who had so little in his afterlife that could be called comfort yet still put your worries before his own? What else can you do for someone who built a home and a purpose with you, who goes on the wildest and most fulfilling adventures with you, who gives you the care and validation that no one else ever has? What else can you do for the boy on the staircase to hell, barefooted and bloodshed, tears in his beautiful eyes, so vulnerable yet so brave, and offers his heart to you? What else can you do for someone who has made death miles better than your life ever was and ever could be? What else can Charles Rowland do besides love Edwin Payne with every fibre of his being?

[meraki-yao]

Dropping in to say your crying at the vows Payneland was SUPERB! Is it too late for 🤬 Payneland? If so no stress at all! Your writing is awesome!

Hi! Oh my God, thank you so much! I'm glad you liked the last one! Thank you for the prompt and sorry for this being late!

🤬Argument with a family member

This is a human/alive AU by the way!

TW: Paul Rowland being a homophobic, abusive asshole, homophobic slurs

Charles freezes, his fiancé’s hand tightening on his arm. Standing in front of their wedding venue entrance, arguing with the security, is his father who he hasn’t seen in years. After struggling through university on his own and meeting Edwin Payne, he took off and ran far away from home, cutting all contact with his parents while building a new home with the love of his life. A few years down the line, he and Edwin created a cipher to communicate with his mother. But throughout all of this, they have deliberately steered clear of his father. His father, who beat him senseless; his father, who locked his lanky teenage self in the basement that he lived in since he was five; his father, who nearly ripped his pierce off his ear, calling him homophobic slur years before he came to terms with his bisexuality. After Charles confessed his trauma after a particularly violent nightmare, Edwin had held him and promised that he would never let Paul Rowland near him ever again. Charles had gripped his boyfriend’s waist and promised the same: he cannot ever let his father lay a hand on sweet, gentle, loving Edwin. But he’s here now, at their rehearsal dinner, and he can’t help but freeze at the sight. Why? How? What is he doing here? How did he find him out after so long? What do I do now? Charles’ eyes meet his dad’s and the next thing he knows, Paul Rowland is pushing the security guard to the ground and comes marching their way, the rage on his face horrifyingly familiar. He has to move, he has to leave, he has to protect Edwin— But he can’t move. He’s frozen in place, legs turned to jelly. He wants to scream and cry but only quick puffs of breaths come out. Just before his dad can shout a curse at them, Edwin suddenly steps forward, pushing Charles behind him. “Excuse me, sir.” He says eerily calmly, which is a sign that he’s actually angry. “I don’t believe you’re invite to this function. You are trespassing right now, please kindly leave the premise before we have to call the authorities.” “Move out of the way, you fag. I’m here to talk to my son.” Paul Rowland growls, and Charles flinches, he wants to grab Edwin’s hand and run. “As you can clearly see, Charles does not want to talk to you. Now, leave.” Edwin continue, not phased by the slur. “CHARLES! YOU FUCKING USELESS PIECE OF SHIT, HIDING BEHIND A FAIRY?” The familiar roar rings in Charles’ ear. He can’t fucking breathe oh God oh fuck— BAM! Edwin, his sweet Edwin who has always gravitated to words, who he has tried to get into boxing without much success, punches his dad square in the jaw. Both Rowlands stare at him in shock. “YOU FUCKER! HOW DARE YOU—” “No, you listen here.” Edwin states, a dangerous edge in his voice. “We have given you multiple warnings. I will not allow you to come here, ruin our joyous occasion and do any harm to my fiancé, physical or otherwise. The police can deal with you now, we’re done here.” He lays a hand on Charles’ back, gentle despite the situation, and leads him away as the police who have finally arrived come and pull his dad away for questioning. They’ll need to provide their recount too, but Edwin insisted that they’ll deal with that later. They enter the dressing room of the venue where Charles collapses onto a chair. Edwin kneels before him, hand cupping his cheek, thumb swiping under his eyes. “Charles, please tell me what’s going on.” “No, it’s nothing, I’ll be fine I— Holy shit, Edwin, you punched my dad!” “Yes well, I very well couldn’t stand there and let him cause you even more distress, and he was clearly not going to listen to a word I say, sometimes actions do speak louder than words.” Charles pulls Edwin into his lap and wraps his arm around his waist, nose buried in his neck, breathing the familiar scent. Edwin’s hand goes to his curls as he presses kisses on to the top of his head. God, how lucky is he, to have such a wonderful person to call his? “We’ll be alright, my love,” Edwin whispers. “I promise, we’ll be alright.” Charles has never doubted him.