wicked fury

charlotte wakes with the sun, head pillowed on tadhg’s chest as he snores lightly.  she smiles, soft and sweet- he wouldn’t see it, after all- and kisses his chest.  god, she’d missed this.  she props herself up on her elbow, leaning over him and brushing his hair back from his forehead.  her fingers linger, tracing the lines of his face.  ( @widcwmakers​ )

fin.

“nothing more for the night, but there may be a fee in the morning once you’re rested,” she quips, drumming her fingers on the table.  “you’ll have to wash your clothes on your own, though.  i’m not your maid.”  she moves to stand.  “full flagon, i’m assuming?”

she laughs with him, moving to settle in a seat nearby.  “you are at a tavern, after all.  this once, i’ll give you some food and ale.  after today, you have to pay,” she teases, tapping her fingers on the table.  “and you know you have one option as to where to spend the night.”

“have not,” she huffs, letting him clean her face.  “if i’ve gone soft, so have you.”  charlotte knows she should step back a little when he’s finished cleaning her face, but it’s too nice being close to him again.  familiar.  “good.  i hope they rot at the bottom of the ocean for eternity,” she replies, voice sharper than it’s ever been.  “let the crabs and fish have them.”

she accepts the rag, letting him dab at her nose despite the soreness.  “oh tadhg,” she breathes as he tells her what had happened.  she can’t keep up her hard shell when she hears of how he’d been tortured.  her eyes flicker over him, scanning to see if he had any other major injuries.  “please tell me you killed them when you got free.  or- or i’ll have to hunt them down and pay them back for what they did to you,” she threatens, trying her best to hide how worried she was.  damn him for worming under her skin like this.  

“you’re an ass,” she replies, reluctantly taking his hand and standing up.  “at least get me a rag or something for my nose if you’re going to make me fetch you a pint.”  her expression softens slightly, even as she tries to stem the blood from her nose.  she can’t stay mad at him.  the oaf.  “how long have you been in town?  where- where did you go?”

her knees buckle beneath her when his fist connects with her face, and she can already tell that she’ll have a lovely bruise painting her cheek.  and was that...yes.  her nose was bleeding now, though only slightly.  “fuck you,” she grumbles as he crouches beside her, hating the way her heart flutters at the stroke of his fingers.  there’s some sort of thrill in the feeling, knowing he’s real and he’s truly here.  alive.  “what if i decide to just sit here on the ground and let you go thirsty?  what will you do then?”

damn him and his stupid smile.  damn him.  she sets the flagon she’d been cleaning down on the table, moving around it at the same time he stands and moves closer to her.  “i’m not surprised the devil doesn’t want you, bastard that you are,” she grumbles, lifting her chin.  “you asked for it,” she says, the only warning before she cocks her arm back and punches him in the face as hard as she can.