hiii i love your writing so much and how you characterize all of them aa🤩🤩 is there any way you could do charlie x reader (f) angst? :3 if you’re not feeling it that’s cool to though i survive u either way 😻
Thank you, anon! I am so glad to hear that 🤍 I have tried my best, as I’ve never written for Charles before, but I hope I did him justice. Enjoy x (also i didn’t know whether you wanted with or without comfort so i chose with jic)
Whiskey Scars
plot: you have been with charles for a while now, but as you get injured on a heist, he has a hard time forgiving himself.
charles smith x f!reader, angst with comfort
warnings: canon typical violence, gunshot wound, mentions of death, mentions of alcohol, relationship angst
wc: 1.6k i think
pics are from pinterest
Charles Smith was no stranger to death. He had witnessed its cold hands grasping at his loved ones’ throats, and felt its fingers reach for his own. He had watched the light leave his enemies’ eyes before they hit the ground when he was guided by the reaper’s scythe himself, their faces contorted in fear and anger, their hearts pierced by his arrows. He never forgot, and he always hurt - whether it was through a death on his side, or one by his own hands. He learned to cope, and to forgive, but he never forgot.
A gloomy mist cast its long fingers over Clemens Point, as though the night was not ready to give way to the morning just yet. Charles was glad, in a way. The fog felt cool, clinging to his exposed skin in a more comforting manner than the unforgiving Lemoyne sun.
He still felt exhaustion settled deep within his bones, he never slept well when he couldn’t feel your hair tickle his nose, and the rhythm of your slow breathing beckoning him to join you in your dreams.
He never wanted you to leave; he knew that wherever Micah Bell went, chaos followed. The only reason protest never spilled from his lips was because he knew Arthur would protect you with his life, and he knew that you could handle yourself.
He was anxious, the feeling spreading through his entire body, from his heart hammering against his ribs to his trembling fingers. He cursed under his breath when his unsteady blade sliced into his skin instead of the piece of wood he was trying to distract himself with.
He was about to reach for the rag in his boots to clean up the blood the wound had drawn when he heard the galloping of hooves, and incoherent, anxious shouting.
Never had he been on his feet so quick. He knew something was wrong when he saw your horse uneasily trotting in front of Micah. Fear shot through his bones, fear and anger.
“Where the hell is she?”
It took him mere seconds to grab the man who had just dismounted from his horse by his collar and push him against a tree with ease.
“Calm down, you bastard, she’s-” Micah never got to finish his sentence, he was interrupted by Arthur breaking through the treeline at a concerning speed, your body slack against his chest. The sight reminded him of an injured doe; you were unconscious, but he could see your chest heaving, struggling to fill your lungs with air.
He discarded Micah on the ground and took no notice of his colourful language in response. He had a tunnel vision on you, and you alone.
Your hair obscured your face when Arthur dismounted and handed you over to Charles. Both of them treated you with a sort of care one would treat precious porcelain.
“We were ambushed.” Arthur explained hurriedly while following Charles to your tent. “O’Driscolls.”
A heavy feeling settled in your lovers’ heart. He knew what these men, these monsters were capable of. He had seen and felt it first hand, and had the scars to prove it.
“Fought like a cougar, that one. I think she took down most of them before I even got out my gun.”
“What the hell happened?” Charles asked again, calmer this time. His voice was quiet, broken. He laid you on your bedroll with all the care he could muster. Blood covered your chest and face, mingling with the one still seeping from his hand. He couldn’t pinpoint where it came from. There was so much blood.
“She took a bullet to the shoulder. Fell off her horse, too.” Arthur’s voice was laced with guilt as he continued. “I did the best I could, Charles. Killed everyone of them Bastards. Me and Micah.”
He knew his friend was telling the truth, and usually he would scold him for his vengeful ways, but God, how he wished to see every son of a bitch who laid hands on you swing.
“Get Grimshaw. And Swanson. I need them to help me patch her up.”
Charles tried his best to stay his usual calm, collected self, but his resolves were faltering with each gush of blood your wound emitted. He needed help.
A small crowd had formed around you in your tent, head in Charles’ lap, still unconscious. Susan said this was good, you couldn’t feel the pain, then. Swanson added that it was a clean shot, that you were lucky. The comforting words did nothing to calm his nerves. Neither did Arthur’s reassuring arm around his shoulder. The only thing on his mind was your shallow breathing and ashen skin.
Charles said nothing. He cleared your face of strands of hair sticking to your sweat-soaked forehead and closely watched your chest moving up and down, scared it might halt at any minute.
Arthur was by his side the whole time, guilt eating away at him. There was no sight of Micah.
Some time had passed. He didn’t know how long. Didn’t care. Your breathing was steadier now. His wasn’t.
“She’s gonna be just fine, Charles. She just needs some rest, and someone to look out for her.” Tilly placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“You’ve been here for hours now, get some sleep and let me take care of your girl. She’s gonna need you to be well-rested once she wakes up.”
If it were anyone else suggesting this, he would have told them to leave him alone, to tell them you needed him and only him. But the lack of sleep and the adrenaline wearing off made him feel almost drunk, in a stupor.
He nodded hesitantly, and Tilly knelt down next to him; a quiet gesture to hand over responsibility for your life.
Three days. Three days it took you to finally open your eyes.
You woke up in shock, mind still in the battle that had occurred days ago. It was the dead of night, and it took you some moments to realise you were back in your camp. You shot up from your bedroll and were immediately forced to lie back down by the throbbing pain in your shoulder.
A glance to your left and right revealed that Charles was nowhere to be found. In his stead, there was a bottle of water and, what you could only assume to be Pearson’s stew.
Your stomach emitted a low rumble in response, and you wolfed down the mixture of miscellaneous meat and vegetables in a matter of seconds. You did the same to the water, and felt the strength slowly creep back into your sore and tired body.
You assessed the damage: purple bruising bloomed beneath your chemise, and your ribs ached in protest as you lifted the fabric. You assumed some of them were broken, the fall you took from your horse explaining the seething pain and angry bruises. Your fingers continued up your body, reaching your shoulder. You felt the coarse thread of the makeshift stitches poking your fingertips, and the memory of the bullet burying itself within you made your heartbeat quicken and your body shudder.
Scars ain't nothing to be ashamed of. You remembered your words to Charles as he expressed insecurity about the jagged edges along his jaw. They're testament to your survival.
You decided to take your own words to heart instead of worrying about the cosmetic mishap the quickly-applied stitching would lead to.
The empty spot besides you felt cold, and you missed the way a pair of strong, heavy arms felt around you. Where could Charles possibly be?
For a while, you decided to wait for your love to return to you, until your joints and muscles ached for movement and you opted to find him yourself instead.
After a much needed stretch, careful not to tear the stitches in your shoulder, you quietly opened the tent flaps.
It was peaceful outside, nothing could be heard except for the odd cricket and the crackling of fire. You turned to the light source to find someone there, your Charles, leaning against a log. He was alone, the only company he kept was a bottle of Guarma Rum.
Your heart broke at the sight. Charles rarely ever drank, and it was even more rare he did so on his own. Especially since he had found you.
You made your way over to him in slow steps. Had he been sober, he would’ve immediately heard the cracking of branches and rustling of leaves you left on your clumsy trail towards the fire. His mind seemed to be elsewhere, though. Clouded by liquor and pain, by a lack of sleep, and the weight of the world on his sagging shoulders.
You placed a soft hand on his back when you reached him, and he swiftly turned around - knife at your throat. It took him some time before he realised you were real, and you were you, not some figment of his imagination, or the ghosts that had been haunting him ever since he lost you to the shadows.
His gaze softened and he lowered the knife. A calloused finger met your cheek as he touched you gently, still not quite believing his eyes. Still unsure whether you were a drunken hallucination, or an angel visiting in his dreams.
“Come back to bed with me?” Your voice was raspy from the prolonged lack of speaking, but it was your voice nonetheless.
“Thought I’d lost you.” His speech was slurred, and you could see tears glistening in his dark eyes. “Thought I’d lost my pretty lady.”
You gave him a soft smile and took his hand. Despite his state, he was careful to not touch your wounds. He let go of you briefly, only for his fingers to roam across your entire body, as though he wanted to make sure there were no more injuries. No more bruises for him to seek revenge for.
A fools business.
He remembered Arthur’s words when he admitted to him he ways in which he wanted to hurt whoever had hurt you.
By the time you had reached your tent, his racing mind had gone quiet again. His brain was consumed by thoughts of you, by the sight, the smell, the feel of you on him.
The best revenge was that he had you, and you had him.
These were his final thoughts before your hair, tickling his nose and your even breathing lulled him to sleep.
summary: with the storm came Charles ’unfiltrered rage, and the aftermaths leave you both more distant than ever.
pairing: Charles Smith x f!reader
rating: mature.
word count: 4.8k
warnings: violence and blood. Allusion to attempted sexual assault and rape (not attempted by Charles !!!). Injuries. Mentions of shame and guilt. Nothing else to warn you about. English isn’t my first language so apologies for any mistakes. Title from the song Pistol by Cigarette After Sex (so not the same vibe but it makes sense to me lol). Charles’ pic from the very talented @colterblues who always takes insane photographs. Thank you so much for letting me use it 🤩💕. Dividers by @/dividers-are-us.
a/n: Yes it's me again, clearing my wip list a little. It's always when I am the busiest that I can't stop writing. I just wanted to try something a different for our Charles, something where we can see more of his violent side, and I wanted it angsty because it made more sense. I love a good fairy tale kinda love story, but it was very interesting to write this kind of ending for once. I hope you will enjoy the angst. Thank you to my baby @thedilfdiaries for reading my draft and for helping me decide on the moodboard, I love you so much 💙❤️✨. Thank you to @mezzaninebeetle55 for your support and for reassuring me about my Charles’ characterization, I hope it will break you lol, love you honey🫶🏼🫂
The evening sun rays pierce through the broken window, projecting Charles’ threatening shadow onto the wooden floor, within reach of your limp body lying on the kitchen’s floor. The sounds of his ragged breaths slowly stir you out of your lethargy, a sharp whimper escaping your mouth as you try to sit up.
Charles doesn’t turn around immediately, hesitating to face you, realizing only now that the copper smell of blood permeates the air of the small house and that the dark red river flowing at his feet would probably have you running away.
The images that courses through your mind should be coming straight from a nightmare. But as you grow more aware of your surroundings, you realize that it wasn’t a mirage: pistol firing, a man crawling away, brain scattered all around the place… It was real.
The little cabin sounded like the perfect idea, a couple hours ago. You and Charles had been riding for more than 2 hours, noticing the clouds growing bigger and darker in the afternoon sky. The dry path trodden by your horses’ hooves started being tainted by dark polka dots, and Charles made the call to take a path cutting through the woods. He knew a place, he explained, somewhere uninhabited in ages, where he usually stops to rest when he goes into town. You followed, holding onto your hat for dear life as the wind started to blow harder. Charles was quiet, unshakeable, leading Taima to the hitching post at the back of the house, and silently urging you to hop off your horse.
“Stay here” He muttered, picking his gun from his belt, and sliding a couple of bullets inside. He disappeared behind the house and you stood there, alone, nervously biting your lips as you noticed the first lighting striking right above the hills. The afternoon sky was split in half, and you were standing right in the middle. You prayed for this house to be the promising shelter it looked like from the outside, with the moss covering the stones and the rodents looking at you from the ajar door. At least there was no tree lying on the roof, and it seemed watertight. Another lightning struck the sky, making both of the horses neighing. You step closer to them, trying to calm them down. Taima’s agitation stopped as soon as she spotted Charles in the door frame.
“It’s clear. You can get in.” He said, stepping down. Charles had been thorough with his inspection, careful, like he always does. He checked the whole house silently, every window, every door, from the upper floor area to the hidden cellar. Any places someone could be hidden in, he checked. He wasn’t going to risk your safety.
You smiled as you passed next to him, immediately welcomed by the foul smell of humidity when you crossed the threshold. You coughed looking back at Charles who stood right behind you.
“Ain’t exactly pleasing, but I am sure after we light a fire it will be better” He said, watching as you traced the edge of the mantle with your finger. You blew on the grey dust and frowned.
“There’s nothing sweeter than the scent of rotten wood anyway” You joked, slowly acclimatizing to the room you’ll probably spend the evening in.
Charles chuckled low at the irony. You pulled out a broken chair from a corner, and sat.
“I better go get some wood before it gets worse out there. I won’t be long” He said, waiting for you to look away from the dirty dishes staining what probably used to be a sink many years ago.
“I’ll be okay. Go.” You agreed, a comforting warmth spreading inside of you as you noticed the concerned way he looked at you. Charles nodded and waited for a beat, before the heavy wooden door started closing carefully behind him.
Charles let out a heavy sigh once outside. He isn’t really fond of extending his trips unexpectedly, but this time it seemed necessary. The cold wind surprised him as he walked to Taima to grab his machete. He gave her a quick pat on the head, very grateful you rode back earlier to stop there. He doesn’t like brutal weather changes, especially for Taima, he knows it gets her very agitated sometimes, especially after a long trip. The rest was good for everyone.
The rain started falling hard not even 10 minutes after Charles got deeper into the forest. He had the time to get as many logs as he could, making sure they wouldn’t get soaked in the process. He thought about tracking a rabbit or two, but the escalation of the electric activity got him suddenly worried. Charles retraced his steps, hair and vest dripping from the rain.
He hadn’t even reached the house when he saw it. Your horse was gone. Taima was unhitched and slowly running towards him.
His eyes could never deceive him. His tracking and observation skills have always been unmatched. He had never failed. Never. Not since he was a young child, still learning how to survive in a hostile environment. He had never put anyone in danger either. But today he did. A sense of dread took possession of his body when he realized you were probably in danger. Charles took Taima’s reins and hitched her back to her spot. The loud thunder covered her weak neighs. He didn’t have the time to calm her down. This would have to wait.
He dropped the logs near the doorstep, and decided he needed to thread very carefully. He had no idea how many men were inside, if they were carrying heavy weapons with them… He pulled the machete from behind his back, and approached the side of the house. The sound of plates falling to the ground, followed by a man yelling startled him.
Charles stood there for a minute, trying to peek inside without being seen, and realized he couldn’t see you. He couldn’t hear you either. He crouched to move onto the next window, and saw two men were standing there, each carrying a pistol at their gun belt, but you were still nowhere to be seen. His heart started beating faster when he imagined you being unable to defend yourself, overpowered by the two brutes, your face frozen in fear while they beat you up, or worse. Bile started rising in his throat. He couldn’t let emotions get a hold on him. He needed clarity to try to save you.
Charles had a couple of seconds to figure out how to deal with this. Using his gun now would be too dangerous, especially since he couldn’t see you. One of the men could still be hurting you, what if his sudden appearance was what led him to shoot the final blow? If you were still alive, he couldn’t let that happen. So Charles decided on using the machete. With a neat throw, he could easily hit his first target. That should be enough to put the man down while he would be neutralizing the other one. Charles had to use the surprise at his advantage.
He got closer to the door, and kicked it open violently. The first man turned around abruptly, a curse forming in his throat. But Charles threw the machete his way. The weapon flew through the room, and hit him in the guts. The force of the blow and the shock made him step back, his hands covering the bloody cut smearing his shirt. The grave clinking sound of the metal falling on the floor accompanied Charles footsteps as he walked further in the room. The second man, the one hoovering above you, turned around and clumsily looked for his gun.
Charles was already aiming at him.
“Don’t even think about it” He warned, slowly bringing the trigger to the wall, ready to shoot him. The man raised both his hands above his head as he faced him, mumbling something about finding an arrangement.
“You won’t come out of this alive, and you better get away from her” Charles urged, nodding to the side, silently instructing him to move next to the window.
A whine coming from behind forced Charles to look away for a moment. The injured robber was crouched in the corner near the mantle, blood fusing from his stomach.
“You ain’t got the guts you bastard” He shouted at Charles, furiously.
“Oh yeah?” Charles questioned back, smirking. He waited for a single beat, and blindly shot the other man standing near the window, right in the face, rejoicing in the terror flashing in his last opponent’s eyes. The dull thud of the corpse tumbling forward echoed through the room.
“Sir… please.. I got a family” The injured man started pleading as he watched Charles glancing at the dead man coldly.
“Yeah? And why would I care about that?” Charles stated as he put his gun back in his holster.
The man took the opportunity of Charles being distracted to pat his own pockets in search for his hidden knife, and threw it his way. Charles didn’t even budge when the blade hit his thigh. He moved fast, crouching in front of the robber’s body and kicking his gun out of reach. The man looked pale, the wound still bleeding heavily. Charles peered down at him, his face emotionless. The other man kept begging for mercy, whimpering and struggling to breathe.
But mercy comes from the grace of God and good people, mercy is something estranged to men like Charles, men that had been granted by evilness since they learnt how to walk. He only knew how to hurt and punish, how to take lives and watch people expel their last breaths.
Charles pulled the knife out of his thigh, and threw it on the floor. The other man looked at the ridiculous injury, shaking his head in disbelief as he realized the fate awaiting for him.
Mercy had never been in the cards for Charles. He’ll make sure it won’t be in the cards for men like him either.
The silhouette of your limp body laid in front of the sink, finally caught Charles ‘eyes. He had been too afraid to even take a look at you. And his fear was understandable. Your pale blue dress was stained with blood, the upper part completely torn. Your face looked bruised, and Charles ‘breath caught in his chest. He clenched his fist, and stood up, slowly walking to you, cursing himself as he realized that he came in too late. You weren’t moving, he couldn’t notice the rise and fall of your ribcage through the fabric of your clothes. He should have never left.
The sudden sound of something moving on the wooden floor forced him to whip his head around. He knew the other man couldn’t be standing behind him, he wasn’t a threat anymore. And he was right. The weakened body of the coward who dared to assault you was looking for an escape. He was crawling away, smearing his blood everywhere as he drew himself a path towards the door.
Charles grabbed his leg carelessly, pulling him back to him. The other guy started to cry as he was forced to face the outlaw again.
“What did you do to her?” Charles uttered with a growl.
“Please… Please… You can take all my money.. Just …” The robber said in between sobs.
Charles punched him square in the jaw, not even wincing as his fist collided with the other man’s face, the flesh deforming instantly with the force of the blow.
“Nothing… nothing” He answered, blood running out of his nose.
“Lie to me again and I’ll make sure you’ll die slowly” Charles’ hand gripped the man’s collar and he shook him.
“I don’t wanna die” He replied, eyes wide.
“Then talk.” Charles said, unclenching his grip.
“We didn’t have the time to do anything… It’s… it’s him” He pointed out to the corpse a few feet away from him. “He just knocked her out, said it would be easier to get what he wanted from her this way… I swear I didn’t do anything to her”
Charles dropped him violently. His ears were ringing. He glanced at you one last time. Your rigid face. The smile he used to see adorning your lips is probably gone, forever.
The sound of the bullet falling in the chamber was the last thing the wounded man heard before his head exploded. Charles wiped the blood splashes off his face with his sleeve and stood up, panting.
“Charles” You whispered, weak and supplicating. Each breath you took hurt your soul. You quickly gave up on the idea of standing up when you felt the whole room turning upside down just from raising your head from the floor. Charles' eyes found yours and you saw his lips moving, as he whispered your name, before the lights turned dark and his silhouette disappeared right in front of you.
The night fell quietly a couple hours ago, but you can’t bring yourself to go to sleep. You barely closed an eye the last few days. You’re sitting by the fire, playing with the fringes of your shawl, listening to the whispers of the flames. The shadow hides most of your wounds and bruises, but you can still feel the pain. Your heart took a blow too, and the man currently standing at the edge of camp seems even further away now.
You glance down at your hands, and brush the dirt off your bandage.
You remember the feeling of Charles' strong hands washing up the dried blood from your face, your arms, your neck.
The stinging sensation followed as he faintly pressed a cloth soaked in rhum against your busted lip, the multiple cuts on your arms, the gash on your forehead.
He avenged you, and brought you back to life.
The storm was raging outside. You fell in and out of consciousness a couple of times, noticing Charles’ shadow seated right by your side. You winced as you sat up, and searched for his eyes in the darkness of the small house. But he never looked at you. You grabbed the tin mug with fresh water he set next to you earlier without a word and gulped it down.
Charles stood up as soon as you were awake and walked away. He took off his jacket and held it in front of the fire he started while you were unconscious. You frowned, surprised by his reaction. You wondered why he wasn’t looking at you, and why this sudden need to wear dry clothes. Charles wasn’t the type to be bothered by this. You’ve seen him ride through the rivers, pants completely soaked, or stand guard for hours underneath the rain, his shirt almost becoming see through. You laid back against the cupboards and the sudden coldness hitting your skin made you freeze instantly. You looked down at your chest, sobs rising in your throat as you finally noticed the state you were in. Your shirt was completely torn, and the top of your dress offered little more coverage. You wondered how the skirt was still hanging on, but somehow it did. You noticed a tiny pin holding most of the fabric together, but the skin of your breasts was showing. This makeshift shirt wouldn’t survive a ride back to camp.
“We can’t stay here” Charles finally stated. You could see his head turning your way slightly. But his eyes stayed focusing on the floor. You shifted, trying to stand up, and he hesitated to run to help you.
“Are you..” Charles started, incapable of pretending not to be concerned. He started walking away from the fireplace.
“I am okay” You coughed, holding your hand in front of you defensively. Charles stopped. You didn’t want him close. Not now that you saw the state you were in. The pin didn’t even resist you standing up. You took leverage on the wooden cabinets as best as you could. Everything hurt, and your balance wasn’t exactly your strongest suit at the moment. You threw up in the old sink, the pain shooting in your ribs and the foul smell of dead bodies too intense for you to handle.
Charles was behind you in one quick motion, his hand resting clumsily above your naked shoulder. He didn’t know if he should touch you. He decided it was best not to. He poured you another mug of water and handed it to you. You thanked him, hiding yourself as best as you could with your arms crossed on your chest.
“Here… It ain’t as dry as I was hoping but…” Charles held out his jacket to you, and turned his head towards the fire while you tried to put it on your back. You whined as you slid your arms into each sleeve, the pain almost unbearable. You closed the buttons up to your neck, grateful for the great coverage the jacket offered. It was large enough to avoid adding pressure to your bruised flesh, and long enough to cover all the blood staining your dress.
Charles put out the fire and held your arm to support you as you walked outside. The rain must have stopped at some point. Stars were shining above you and the wind was blowing gently, like a peaceful summer breeze. It smelled like wet pine needles and burnt wood. If it wasn’t for the corpses silently starting to rot inside the house, the blood drying through the cracks of floor, and the sharp pain torturing your bruising flesh, you could have been thinking it was all just a bad dream.
Charles helped you up on Taima, and you felt no shame when you whined in agony as you settled on the horse. Charles wiped his hand across his face, the guilt starting to consume him slowly.
It’s the only thing he thought about the whole ride, as you wrapped your arms around his middle and held onto him. He tried to ride slower than usual, the hissing and moans of pain you let out each time Taima’s speed was too much for you were unbearable the first couple of times. He didn’t have the heart to endure this for 3 hours. He replayed the whole scene in his head again, and again, and realized the shock you must have been in when you woke up the first time and saw him standing there with the dizzying thrill of vengeance and the thirst for blood written all over his face. The fear in your voice when you called out his name the first time… How can you stand being so close to him right now? Charles wished he could ride faster so you wouldn’t have to be in his presence anymore.
It was dawn when the two of you finally returned to camp. The girls were already awake, worried that something happened to you. They rushed by your side as soon as Charles put you down and took you back to your tent. There were questions on the tip of every tongue that morning. But neither you or Charles talked about what happened. And Charles didn’t even bat an eye when Micah commented on your “disheveled appearance” later that day at dinner, implying that of course Charles had to rough you up a little to get what he wanted from you, there was no way you would give yourself to an ugly beast like him. You would have punched him yourself if you could. The girls chimed in and asked him to shut up. Susan walked to Charles to offer him a plate, but he declined, glancing at you for a moment. Your eyes met his, but he quickly looked away. You watched him stand up and grab a rifle. His silhouette stayed planted firmly at the edge of camp for most of the night.
Just like tonight. It’s been a couple of weeks now. Charles has barely been around. As soon as he comes back from a score or a hunting trip, he walks as far away from you as possible. And not a single word had been exchanged between you two.
You had been looking for the right words day and night, in vain. You were ashamed, eaten away by the guilt of having been incapable of fending for yourself, of forcing Charles to get into such a display of rage and violence. And you knew Charles was probably afraid of approaching you for this exact reason. This distance growing between you broke your heart. Even though Charles wasn’t the kind of man to chat around a cup of tea, he warmed up to you the past few months. Supply run after supply run, you were looking forward to riding with him to town each week… but now, now you fear that Charles won’t ever ride next to you again. He’s been going with Arthur instead. You know you aren’t exactly in the right shape to help anyone right now but still… It hurts.
You need to talk to him.
Standing up on trembling legs, you walk by your tent and stop for a moment. It takes more than a couple of steps for you to get rid of the numb feeling in your muscles. You open the wooden box next to your cot, and take the little handkerchief hidden in there.
The leaves crumble underneath your boots as you take the path to the edge of camp. There is no point in rehearsing what you want to tell him. You’ll just go with the flow, but the nervousness is gnawing at you. You fidget with the fabric, eyes intensely focusing on Charles' back. He is leaning against a tree, and as you approach, his shoulders start to tense in awareness of your presence. He turns around before you can call his name.
“Good evening” You say, offering him a soft smile.
“Hey” Charles’ face scrunched up in pain unintendedly as his eyes finally set on you, the moon illuminating the fading bruises and scars across your skin.
“Quiet night?” You say, trying to keep your tone light despite the awkwardness.
“Nothing to complain about so far” He replies, letting the butt of his rifle hit the ground in front of him.
The silence sits heavy between the two of you for a long minute, before you find the courage to talk again.
“Can we… Can we talk?” Your expression is tense, and the way you are gripping the side of your dress with your free hand makes Charles nervous, but he nods, letting you cross the tree line and head for the little makeshift camp he seeks refuge in lately. You sit on the chair, and wait for Charles to take place in front of you. You know he won’t ask questions to make your job easier, so you just have to dive in.
“I made this for you” You say, unfolding the handkerchief on your knees, and smoothing the folds neatly, before handing it to him.
Charles’ hand reaches out and he holds the fabric for a moment, caressing it with the pad of his fingers.
“It’s silk” He notices, unfolding it to discover the flowery pattern you embroidered there. There is a dove flying right above the petals too. Charles nods as he traces the outline with his fingers.
“I am not very good at this… But I thought I could try to make it prettier, so it’s not just some random handkerchief. Don’t look at the bird too closely though” You say laughing softly. Charles looks at your face, reddened by the orange hue of the flames. His heart clenches when he notices the way you can’t let your lips stretch along with the lines of your smile.
“It’s beautiful. Thank you” Charles says sternly, folding the fabric again and hiding it in his pocket.
You feel the moment evaporating quicker than you expected… This gesture is… a pretext, a way to talk to him… But it’s not easy at all to break down the walls that have been building between you.
“I should go back.” Charles says as he stands up.
“Please. Don’t. Let me just… I am trying to find my words Charles but it’s not… I am just trying to understand. Is everything okay? Did I do something wrong?” You finally let out, voice strained with sadness. Tears are already forming in your eyes as you wait for his answer.
Charles is towering over you, staring at the blurry field of canvas standing far behind you. He sits back down, sighing heavily.
“That’s not…Everything is fine, you did nothing wrong” He replies, but he is avoiding your stare and you know he is just saying this to put an end to this conversation.
“Charles… Stop lying to me. You haven’t talked to me in two weeks, you don’t even look at me when we cross paths, if we cross paths, cause you haven’t spent more than 2 consecutives nights in camp… I am just trying to understand, if it’s something I said, or did, let me at least apologize…”
Charles says your name. He tries to keep his voice soft, but it comes out as a warning.
“I don’t like this…” You lose your self control as soon as you hear him. You start crying, but your tears aren’t doing anything to help your case. “Charles, please…We can try to fix this, right? Can you at least look at me?” You insist, the only thing preventing you from dropping to your knees and begging him is the weakness of your body. You might not be bowing down to him, physically, but the vulnerability you are showing right now hits just the same. Charles turns his head towards you and frowns as he notices the sadness on your face. He looks in pain, just from watching the scene you are making right now.
“Look… I mean it. This has nothing to do with you. And there is nothing to fix. It’s better this way”.
The shame is now unbearable for you. You wipe your eyes with the sleeves of your dress and stand up quickly. You almost tumble over. Charles’ arm flexes by his side and for a second you think he is gonna prevent you from falling. You thought wrong.
“Right. Everything is fine. I am sorry for bothering you… I guess… I just wanted to say thank you for rescuing me. For making sure I came back home alive. And I am sorry. About what you had to do to defend me. Now I’ll leave you alone”. You reply, voice hoarse with cries.
Charles watches as you leave, hoping for a moment that maybe you will look back, maybe you’ll run his way and yell at him, and that he’ll find a way to explain this time. But you don’t. Your silhouette fades away behind the tents. He doesn’t go back to his spot immediately, and sits by the fire instead, pondering if he did the right thing or not. He doesn’t even know how to make sense of his own feelings. He remembers the look on your face that day, your eyes slowly opening as he stood there towering over the man he just brutally murdered, the sad expression on your face, the guilt too, for forcing him to do this, to protect you. But that’s his true nature. And Charles is glad you witnessed it. You live in the same violent reality as he does but somehow got spared to be at the first row of such brutality. Because you are a woman. But that’s what he is. That’s what men like him do. He can’t ignore his true nature. And he can’t stomach to see you being afraid of him ever again. Keeping his distance is the only way to protect you both from heartbreak and disappointment.
The purple hues of dawn are starting to color the sky when Charles hears Javier walking behind him. Without a word, they swap places, and Charles walks silently back to camp. Everyone is still asleep. He needs coffee and a couple hours of sleep, then he will be on his way to the Heartlands. He hasn’t been around the area for a while, it will be nice to clear his mind. As he stops by the coffee pot, he notices you resting on your cot under the willow tree. You’re sleeping, peacefully. Charles can finally enjoy the sight of your face without seeing the fear and sorrow in your eyes. He knows that it probably will hurt for a while, but eventually he’ll breathe better knowing that he spared you the pain of living a life with someone like him by your side.
a/n: thank you so much for reading. Comments and reblogs are always appreciated 🥰
Thinking about Charles braiding your hair, feeling his fingers going through your hair and untangling it with care. Him accidentally brushing your neck. Holding a section of your hair to make it easier for him to braid.
Thinking about admiring it in the mirror and complimenting it. "Charles," you breathed, "this is beautiful." Hugging him and falling asleep in his strong arms, protected from harm.
Thinking about getting captured by Milton, him twilering his finger about your braid. "Come on," he said. "You know where they are." Disgust bubbling in your stomach, hot and heavy.
Thinking about lying in the dirt, your braid sticky with your own blood. You tried to cover your wound but the blood just spills through your hands. You reach up to touch your hand and try your best to focus on your memories of Charles. His warm embrace, kind words and helpful hands. Slowly, as the world got darker and your hope weaker, you closed your eyes.
summary: what its like to be charles' one and only
warnings: no smut but slightly suggestive parts, reader referred to as "ma'am" once
⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— Charles is the kindest lover ever!!
⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— Acts of service, gift giving, and physical touch final boss.
⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— He always puts other people’s needs before his own. Do you need something from town? He’s halfway into town before you can even finish speaking. You’re feeling hungry? He’s already grabbed his bow to go hunting. You mention that you’re feeling any form of physical pain? Don’t worry at all because Charle’s soft hands are delicately massaging your ache away.
⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— Charles remembers everything. He never forgets a single detail about you. One time he overheard you mention to Tilly how badly you wanted a few strawberries to snack on. The next day Charles is riding in on Taima with a barrel full of the most beautiful and luscious looking red berries you’ve ever seen, despite them currently being out of season. He remembers all the stories you told him, even if you were the one to forget that you’ve already told him that. It’s the sweetest thing ever when he finished the ending of your stories.
“Oh goodness did I already tell you that? I’m sorry for making you sit through all that again.” You say with a laugh.
“Don’t apologize. I’d gladly listen to that story 1 million times over if that meant I got to hear your voice for a second longer.”
⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— Another time Charles was admiring you as you both were sitting by the fire. You held a rough and worn out paperback version of your favorite book. This had to be your 10th re-read over the years of you having it. A mental note was quickly made by Charles of how distressed the current state of your paperback was. The next day you wake up to the smell of a warm cup of coffee that’s sitting next to a beautiful hardcover detailed with fine gold patterns. At the top of the hardcover there laid the title of your favorite book. You smiled to yourself as your fingers repeatedly ran over the golden prints. Your senses were cheerfully greeted with that new book smell he knew you adored so much.
⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— This man adores taking baths with his lover. It’s usually not even sexual. He just enjoys the comfort of being that close to you. The warmth of your bodies and the warmth of the bubbly water is more than enough to keep him happy for the rest of his life.
⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— If you’re in town with Charles and you even glance or touch something you like Charles is buying it for you.
“Charles, c'mon you know I don’t need that. You know I can’t just let you spend all your money on me.”
Charles replies with a smug smirk across his face, “Good thing I wasn’t offering then. Looks like you’ll just have to accept it now, won't you?”
You happily gift him a kiss on the cheek in return to show your gratitude as you leave the store with your new present in hand.
⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— Charles ALWAYS knows when something is wrong. He can tell when you’re having a rough day, when you need comfort, when you’re stressed, and when you need the space to be alone. You don’t ever need to communicate to him what mood you’re in because he already knows. He never takes it to heart when you need to be left alone and he’s the best at making you feel better, whether that be from afar or between his strong arms.
⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— Not huge on PDA but he loves when you hold onto his arm as he guides you through the town. When he’s in private he can’t keep his hands off of you, though. Around the campfire his hand will rest on your thigh. While you’re asleep his broad chest is attached to your back as he holds you. Physical intimacy is very important to him.
⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— Takes off your boots and litters soft kisses across your legs every night before you both go to bed.
⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— He’ll tell the whole gang that he has to “go hunting” or that he “needs to go into town” just so he can steal you away for a bit. He’ll take you on cute dates to your favorite restaurant or skinny dipping sessions at the lake as the warm sun sets behind you’re joined bodies.
⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— If anyone at the camp even tries to disrespect you he’s running at your defense. One time Micah rudely commented on something you were wearing and before you could even blink a loud slap was laid across his cheek by Charles.
⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— He likes keeping to himself but always opens up to you. The rest of the gang is in shock on how you were able to crack him open. Charles is quiet, not shy. It’s his choice who he decides to let into his life and you are more than thankful that you were that one that he chose.
⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— You always stay up talking by the fire late at night, even when everyone else returns to their tents.
⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— He would never ever let you see him fight. This man is not insecure in most aspects of his life but he has a strong fear that you’ll perceive him as the violent man that the world paints him out to be.
⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— After every fight you clean him up even though he always suggests that it’s not necessary.
“You don’t need to do that, my love. Don’t need you getting dirty or making a mess cause of me.” He tells you.
You roll your eyes in response. “You say that every time, Charles, you sound like a broken record. Lucky for you it’s a good thing that I wasn’t offering. Looks like you’ll just have to accept it, remember? Now sit.”
A laugh escapes his lips before he replies, “Yes ma’am. Whatever you say.”
⋆.˚ ୨ৎ— He takes you to Canada and you both spend the rest of your days happily married and together!!!
Could you do Charles Smith x a reader with very long hair
Cuz I think it’s canon that Charles’ hair is very important to him and I think it would be a cute bonding thing xx
OOO YES!!!
Head to Toe
masterlist
Synopsis: After a long stressful day, you retreat to your boyfriend's tent for some comfort
paring: Charles X long hair fem reader
warnings: FLUFF. established relationship, hurt/comfort, no use of y/n, uses of: "hon" and "lover", flirting, massage, hair brushing/touching/braiding, kissing, fade to black at the end (so, slight sexual content).
wc: ~1k
My head aches. My feet ache. My body aches.
Every part of me aches.
Dutch was barking nonsensical orders left and right, Arthur was in a sour mood with John before we even stepped foot out of camp this morning, and Bill was being himself, making the train robbery a...well, train wreck.
I needed some TLC, and I knew just where to get it. My sweet fella, Charles.
I scanned the campfire nearby. Some gang members were congregating around it, talking about the day or succumbed to their slumber. Charles was usually there either sharpening his knife, or crafting some of those natural tonics he makes, but I couldn't spot him anywhere.
I limped into his tent, finding him sitting relaxed on his bedroll. He looked up as soon as stepped into his space and gave me a small, warm smile. "Hey you."
"Hey hon. I went looking for ya by the campfire."
Charles let out a soft huff. "I was there, but Micah was being...Micah."
Micah was always putting himself in other people's business and calling folks names. It was odd how a grown man could act like a disgruntled adolescent—no offense to teenagers.
"Oh." I kicked off my boots and sat beside him on his bedroll. "Just ignore him the best you can."
"I do. I just didn't want to hear it. So I came in here for some peace and quiet. I would've come out to welcome you home if I knew you arrived."
I rested my head against his shoulder, taking a long, deep breath. "It's alright." I closed my eyes and tried to forget about the clusterfuck that occurred just a few hours ago.
"You were limping when you came in. Is everything alright?"
I didn't even bother looking at Charles. "Mhm...fine. My body's a little sore, but that's it."
He was quiet for a moment. "Are you sure? Nothing else is hurting?"
"My head...but it's okay, trust me."
Charles softly jutted up his shoulder where my head resided. "Come on, sit in front of me." My eyes peered up at him, and they seemed like they were lighting up the whole tent.
I scooted in front of him, us both sitting criss-cross, and flipping my long, voluminous hair to my shoulder. I felt Charles' fingers start at my lower neck, rubbing in circles that were forceful, but felt wonderful.
I let a moan slip out and my eyes closed once more, the force of his touch moving me forward slightly.
"This okay?"
I couldn't respond with words, so I nodded eagerly. I heard Charles hum, and moved his fingers to the base of my neck. His fingers worked their magic, as he bent down and pressed soft kisses along my skin that was exposed on my back and on my neck, slightly sucking and nipping. I loudly moaned and moved my neck to the side to give him more room, earning a soft growl from him.
His hands did not waste time traveling to my scalp. I felt his nails dig into my hair and drag down. A loud hum escaping my lips. He continued scratching up and down my scalp, grabbing fistfuls of hair and softly brushing out tangles from the day.
"Oh my God..." I purred.
Charles released his lips from my neck and let out a soft chuckle. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
"Mhm...vvvery."
His fingers found their way to my forehead and temples, massaging just like he had at the base of my neck. My head—and as a matter of fact, my whole body—felt like I did not endure the hell I did today. It felt like how it did this morning, before this whole mess, when I was lying with Charles in his bedroll.
That being said, who needed any sort of medicine when you have a boyfriend with magic fingers?
Charles removed his hands from my head, and grabbed my hair that was still over my shoulder, guiding it to him. He smoothed out my hair, combing it the way he had just moments ago.
"I'm so lucky." I heard him whisper. "You're so gorgeous."
"Are you talking to my hair or me?"
Charles let out a laugh. I could picture him shaking his head with that soft grin on his face. "Every inch of you, from head to toe, is more beautiful than any landscape on this Earth."
I felt my cheeks burn up, hot like the roaring campfire outside. Charles never fails at making me feel like the only woman in the world.
He skillfully separated my hair into three equal parts, but before he worked his magic, he placed his hands on my head and leaned in. "Do you want me to braid your hair? I'll go gentle, since you have a headache."
I nodded. "You know I can never pass up your braids, Charles."
With that, he went to work, crossing my strands of hair over one another. He made sure to be careful, going slower than usual so he wouldn't accidentally pull too hard.
I shut my eyes again, letting relaxation spread through me. I could easily fall asleep like this, with my lover's hands taking care of me and my hair.
A moment later, I felt a soft tap against my shoulder. I opened my eyes and looked behind me at Charles.
"Done. It looks beautiful."
"I bet it does." I turned myself around to face him. I swung my hair over my shoulder to admire the braid. My face lit up at the intricate style of the hairstyle. "I love it."
"Yeah?" Charles smiled. "I love you."
I rolled my eyes playfully and placed a soft kiss on his lips. Charles cupped my face in response, pulling me closer to him. My hands traveled up his chest and settled behind his neck.
He groaned into my mouth and lifted me onto his lap. I wrapped my legs around his hips in reaction. Charles released my face and let his hands splay across my back instead. He broke the kiss as he carefully laid me down on the bedroll.
I looked up at him with rosy cheeks and my chest rising with each rapid breath. "Charles—"
"If you wanna stop we can. I know you're sore."
"No. I want to."
He smiled, but before he would move or do anything else I spoke. "But... could you go slow?"
A big smile spread across Charles' face. "Of course. Anything for you."
a/n: thank you for this request anon! i really enjoyed writing this! <3
summary : it felt like sadness was an inherent part of you; a sickness that would poison you forever. and in times where that burden felt too suffocating to bear, only one person could be your remedy; his name was charles smith.
tags : hurt/comfort, angst, allusion to reader having depression, (metaphorical) allusion to suic!de, charles comforts reader, overflowery prose but english isn't my first language
wc : ~1k
a/n : well hello! (๑'ᵕ'๑)⸝* i know, i have been on and off, here and there, i thought of leaving forever and disappearing (｡ᵕ ◞ _◟) but ... i still have stories to write and share, and i don't want this to end just yet no matter how much my mind screams for me to do! anyway, i couldn't resist not writing for charles, i love him sooooo ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡) i did let my inner shakespeare out with this one hehe and after months of ruminating on it, i finally feel like it's perfect. it's everything i wanted it to be, and i'm super proud of it!!! so i hope my fellow charles enjoyers will like it just as much as i liked writing it (˶ˆᗜˆ˵)
it had happened again.
it was one of those days where you dreaded getting out of the comfort of your bed— however uncomfortable it actually is.
it was one of those days where the sun just felt too damn bright, and the world was too damn loud, but not loud enough to quell the pandemonium within you— tangled thoughts, a commotion of complete confusion, yet never blurry enough not to keep feeding you poison, an opium your mind was helplessly intoxicated to; thriving on it as if it wouldn't ultimately be the cause of your undoing.
and how you wish you could come undone and put an end to it all: your suffering, and that of others because of you. yet, you never felt the audacity, the courage, the bravery to stop; you had gotten too used to the continuous chaos, so much so, that it felt perplexing to admit that eternal silence terrified you even more.
and when days like these occured— which happened more often than not—, only one person managed to soothe your unrest and quiet your mind, without making the absence of thoughts feel just as uncomfortable as the abundant presence of them.
charles smith.
it often puzzled you; that simply being in the man's vicinity managed to appease you, no words uttered, plunging you in that kind of stillness that mollified your nerves, instead of heightening them.
a beacon of light amidst the fog, that's what he was. guiding you through the maze without even doing anything grand. his simple gestures managed to reach you far more than any extravagant display.
because, in times like these, you didn't need sugar-coated words filled with optimism that, even though coming from good intentions, only served to exacerbate your state even more. you didn't want to be pitied— you did it enough for yourself— and at this point, wanting to be understood felt like asking for the moon.
you just wanted to be seen. to feel like you mattered. for someone to acknowledge you were a person, despite the cruel thoughts that swarmed every bit of your mind, and the ever-present sorrow that ran in your veins.
and he somehow managed to do just that.
most said you were being too dramatic; the world was harsh on everyone and there was no reason for it to be harsher on you specifically.
but he never judged, he never complained. he simply obliged everytime you needed solace, never doing more than what you ask of him.
charles was that pile of hard rocks on shore that would keep the crashing waves of the tempestuous sea of your thoughts from pulling you again into that all-too familiar gloomy abyss, a dreaded place he has also found himself dragged into countless times. and yet, it doesn't scare him to stand by your side. at least, it doesn't seem like it. he felt strong, and sturdy. reliable, and completely unphazed, like the surface of a water body that would only ripple graciously when disturbed, no matter what you throw at it. and maybe that's enough for you to believe you can make it out.
so when he comes back from hunting at night, and sees your exhausted form stumble inside his tent... he just knows, wordlessly. you didn't have to explain; not like you would know how. one look on you and he had it figured out, beckoning you closer with a wave of his hand.
one moment you were on the verge of crying and the next, you felt a warmth so wonderful surround you, akin to the sun embracing your shivering form on a cold winter day.
he held you like one would an antique— with utmost delicacy, afraid to break you in half if he held on too tight, or to accidentally drop you if he held on too light. and you remembered it had pleasantly surprised you in the beginning; that hands which begrudgingly grew numb from labor and violence could still be fluent in the language of tender acts at all.
you allow yourself to fall down the cliff of sadness to sink into a sea of self-pity and something worse, something profoundly more than fleeting sadness, something wretched and utterly cursed about you. you've always felt it, you've always known; that somebody drawn to sadder things had little hope to caress even the slightest hints of felicity.
but the moment you brace yourself for the descent, tripping, expecting the coldness of the ocean of blues to engulf you, something holds you back, keeps you safe and out of reach. a safety net, protecting you, allowing you to peer at the abyss underneath but never to come in contact.
it's him, and it could only be him.
he doesn't rush you, he never does. he doesn't string words of comfort together in a haste, as so many do because they deem the display of emotions so intense to be a disconcerting inconvenience they must avoid and cover up with awkward phrasings of how 'it will get better someday' and that 'this happens to everyone'.
it almost seems like he's effectively with you, navigating the storm alongside you, and not a simple bystander affected by your state out of mere sympathy.
he isn't scared of dipping his toes in the water, he isn't scared of getting dirty in the process of calming the maelstrom and its merciless attempts to pull you in. he was your bravery when yours lacked, your resilience when yours wavered.
and when the storm calms and the clouds subside, you feel gentle fingers wipe away the remainders of it on your face.
a soft whisper reaches you.
i've got you.
your smile was wobbly.
your heart, already so overwhelmed, feels even fuller now... but in a good way. in all the right ways.
and for some reason, his words, his acts... he was the closest thing you've ever got to salvation.
a/n 2 : i also recently turned 20! man i feel old (ᵕ—ᴗ—) anyway, thank you so much for reading and until next time!!! ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧
A/N: Songfic because Charles and Mazzy Star just makes sense xx
Summary: Y/n and Charles both have mutual feelings for each other, but there are doubts about proceeding.
CW: Explicit language, mutual crushes, no relationship, AFAB!Reader, she/her pronouns, fluff, and angst.
WC: 1.9k
Song For Vibe: Be My Angel - Mazzy Star
They say it's me that makes you do things you might not have done, if I was away...
Everyone reminded her. They all like to remind y/n of how different Charles is towards her. His actions, his words, his demeanor. Everything. It was all different around her. And it was noticeable to everyone in the camp.
Y/n needs to go into town to get something? Charles will certainly ride her up there on a wagon. What's that? She's struggling with chores around camp? No worries! Charles will help! Y/n mentions—at the campfire—that she's craving a certain berry? Well, Charles goes out and forages for some.
The thing that is amusing, though, is that Charles isn't like that to anyone else. He's a generous man, sure, but he doesn't bend over backwards for everyone at the drop of a hat. Unless, that person is y/n, of course.
And that it's me, that likes to talk to you, and watches you as you walk away...
It's clear to see that Charles is smitten with y/n. But, what's even more obvious—according to the many women in camp—is how captivated y/n is with Charles. Both of them are aware of their feelings for each other, but they aren't quite sure how to act on it. Because of this, they simply flirt with each other, but nothing more.
"You...you like t' make arrows?" Y/n asks, fumbling over her words a little bit.
Charles raised an eyebrow, looking up at her through a few loose strands of his dark hair. His eyes have dark circles underneath them from a long night of hunting—as well as poor sleep—last night. His eyes flicker back down towards the stick he was sharpening.
"I wouldn't say I like to do it. Just something that needs to be done." He responds simply.
Y/n mentally scolds herself. Of course he doesn't enjoy making arrows. That's probably the most boring thing to enjoy doing. It was such a dumb thing of her to ask. But, she couldn't help it. She often found herself blurting random questions out, in hopes to keep a conversation flowing with Charles. She just adored the way he spoke. And, even when their conversations ended, she wouldn't get sad. Because even watching him walk away, knowing that he'll always come back, made her smile.
Don't say it's useless, don't say forget it, don't bring me wishes of silly dreams...
They both have had talks about their feelings towards the other. It's become a weekly thing at this point. It's never an argument, but rather an emotionally intelligent conversation. They both express how they feel, talk about it in depth, and discuss it. And, every single time, it's like two teenagers awkwardly flirting with each other.
"Ah, just forget it. It's useless..." He sighed.
He always said that after admitting the sweetest things. This time in particular, he said:
"I can't imagine my life without you. It was empty back then. I hope you're in it for a long time to come..."
Oh, what a silly man. Professing his love only to write it off immediately afterwards. He was nervous. He was scared. He didn't know what would happen if he actually pursued a relationship with y/n. The unknown caused him to worry.
"There you go again, Charles Smith. Making me think about silly dreams."
Just say it's all from too much freedom, too many fingers, and too many things...
There was always a reason for his hesitation. Whether they were actual reasons or excuses, y/n wasn't quite sure. But, she knew that Charles truly did have feelings for her. She never doubted that. And she never discredited his feelings or his hesitation. The things that went through his mind were valid and genuine. It would be a cold day in hell before she made him feel bad for expressing his emotions.
"It's just...so much is going on in the gang. And, I'm not used to being settled. It wouldn't be a bad thing to settle down with you, but..," He trailed off, looking down at his hands. "This gang is like my fingers. I...I need them all. Just like I need you." A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest, finding his relation between the two subjects to be quite odd.
They say it's you that washes the weary and brings the night into the day...
Charles managed to cheer everyone up in camp. He was part Native American, part African American, and he was constantly in danger due to the color of his skin. But, somehow, he remained optimistic. He calmed most everyone's nerves when tensions were high in the camp. Whether it was by playing his harmonica, telling a story from his youth, or giving words of advice. It worked every single time.
As true as the day is long, Charles was especially calming around y/n. Every time she was worried about the O'Driscoll's or the Pinkertons, he'd tell her a story from his time alone as a teenager. She found herself becoming so engrossed in the stories, that she would forget about what she was worrying over in the first place. He made optimism seem so achievable. It's one of the many reasons she fell for him.
If you won't notice, how can I show you? All of your worries have all gone away...
"Charles, why can't we just go for it? You ain't got nothin' t' worry 'bout with me." Y/n sighed.
She grew frustrated. Confused. Y/n knew that Charles had his reasons for not pursuing a relationship, but it was saddening. They both cared for each other deeply, so why the caution? They were both outlaws, so it wasn't like he would be putting her in danger. Why! Why?
"I don't understand it, Charles! It ain't right t' string a lady along!" Y/n snapped, fists balled at her sides.
A dark blush of embarrassment crept onto his cheeks. He was chopping wood for the fire, nearly dropping the axe at y/n's words. Sweat had accumulated on his brow, now trickling down his skin. The axe fell to the dirt with a dull "thud".
"Well, then maybe you should move on. Give me a break from your nagging."
Sharp. Right into her sweet heart. He could see the heartbreak in her eyes. A breath got caught in his throat as he watched her spin around, scurrying into the woods.
Don't leave me lonely, don't leave me unhappy, just bring me up into your fate...
He had followed her shortly after, making his way through the dense foliage of the woods around camp. Why had he said those things? It was cruel of him. Not to mention, what he said simply wasn't true. She didn't nag. And, hell, even if she did, he'd love every second of it. That's the truth.
God, there she was. Her back was against a tree, face hidden in the palms of her hands. She wept softly, body shaking with every sound. It was a painful sight for Charles. He hated to see people cry, but he absolutely despised seeing y/n cry. And he's the one that caused this.
"I'm sorry, y/n. I...I didn't mean it. I just...," He trailed off, sitting down on the damp grass with her.
If you don't need me, then don't deceive me, letting my freedom turn into stone...
She continued to weep quietly, tears no doubt streaming down her pretty cheeks. Then, something took over Charles. He couldn't think of any words to express how he felt, so he decided on something else. His arm draped over y/n's shoulder, giving him leverage to pull her into a hug.
He expected her to push him away and scold him. After all, that's what he deserved. But, she didn't do that. She buried her face into his chest, sobs becoming muffled into the fabric of his shirt. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and Charles rested his hands on her lower back.
"I need you in my life, Charles. But, if you don't need me in yours...then...then just say so..." Y/n managed to stammer out through her receding cries.
Just be my angel if you love me. Be my angel in the night. Be my angel, 'cause you need me. Be my angel and treat me right...
Charles sighed gently, rubbing y/n's lower back in circular motions. It hurt his heart so deeply to see her so distraught like this. Perhaps, it was worth taking a chance. Maybe he should finally take the big leap.
"Of course I need you, y/n. I can't imagine life without you." He admitted, voice low.
Y/n pulled away from the hug, wiping the tears from her eyes. The ones that had streamed down her cheeks had already created stained lines on her skin. She looked so sad, but hopeful. There was the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips, and Charles noticed it.
"Do y' mean it, Charles? Ain't lyin'?"
Don't say you love me, if you don't need me, don't send me roses on your behalf...
He smiled, holding out a hand for y/n to take. After a second of hesitation, she took it, a bit confused. Charles helped her stand up, watching as she dusted off the twigs and grass on her skirts. She started to struggle with a particular twig that had managed to get lodged in a loose strand of the fabric. And, while she was taking care of that, he spoke.
"I love you, y/n. I'm not lying."
Her eyes widened. It felt like the entire forest went silent. The birds stopped chirping. The leaves stopped rustling in the wind. The woodpeckers stopped pecking at the trees. The only noise in the entire world was her heavy breathing.
"D-Don't say that if y' don't mean it, Charles Smith! It ain't right!" Y/n scolded.
He simply held her hand. Oh, the look in his eyes was all the confirmation that y/n needed. It spoke volumes, despite him not uttering a single word. It sent a chill down y/n's spine, making goosebumps rise on her skin.
Just take me down and walk through your river, down through the middle, and make it last...
Mere minutes later, the two of them were now at the riverbank. Fish swam through the water, the sun reflecting off of their scales. It made each and everyone one of them look like shimmering diamonds. It was quite beautiful.
But, to be truthful, neither of them were too focused on the fish. Not when they had each other. Charles was focused on the way y/n's lips felt against his. They way the sun shone in her hair, making her look like an angel. They way she made his heart race in his chest like a mustang.
Holding on to you, holding on to me, holding on tight to my lover's cross...
They broke apart from their passionate kiss, both of them sitting upright in the grass. Daises and clovers were scattered across the meadow near the river. It caught the attention of y/n, making her smile at the sight. Charles smiled too, placing his hand on top of hers.
"I'll do my best not to mess this up." He said simply, looking at y/n's side profile.
She giggled, turning back to his direction. The setting sun cast a glow across her body, making her look ethereal. He felt lovestruck. He felt like he had the most idiotic look on his face—which he probably did—because of how enthralled he was with her.
"You ain't gonna fuck it up. 'Sides, if you do, you can fix it. You're a real handy guy." She joked, shrugging her shoulders.
Don't say it's useless and don't say forget it. You are my spirit, now you are gone.
Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Love Triangles, Everything is against this relationship, Angst, Lots of Angst, Angst with comfort, Angst with no comfort, Tragedy, Mentions of grief, Mentions of Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Arthur Morgan Has Tuberculosis, Slight Canon Divergence, Dutch van der Linde Being an Asshole, Reader is NOT a damsel in distress
Summary
Dealing with the grief of losing your best friend in the Blackwater incident, you tend to find solace in the silent company of your close friend, Charles.
When your conflicted feelings about Javier start to bubble to the surface and paint over your friendship with Charles, you are faced with a new problem. Navigating your feelings for Javier while dealing with the inevitable downfall of the Van Der Linde Gang is no easy feat, especially when friendships and relationships are breaking all around you.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Oh my god guys no way i finally decided to write a Javier Escuella fic after complaining about the lack of Javier Escuella fics 😵💫😵💫 I’m having so much fun writing this so I hope you have just as much fun reading it!! If anyone wants me to drop the playlist I made for this fic pls let me know bc I am more than happy to!! I just wanna make sure ppl actually want it LMAO
