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2demondogs · 1 month ago

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Heartbreaking Charthur angst. Like a "What if..." Charles never left to help Rains fall and was there for Arthurs' end (high honor, help John ending)?

Anon I see ur vision, I respect your smoke, you are real for this, etc ad nauseam.

Any incorrect details um... blame it on the alternate timeline. I'll be honest I didn't proofread cuz this shit made me sad.

Words: 1.7k Tags: sickfic... :), character death, stream of consciousness, a lot of nondenominational religious Thoughts, major spoilers

Arthur had realized, since his first and last doctor's office visit, just how much time there was in a day.

Job after job after job and all that precious time he had never realized was slipping by. He wished he had never slept, for one; he hoped in the afterlife, if there was one, he might never sleep, because all things must end eventually, as he is still learning, and he'd hate to make the same mistakes twice.

He thought the Devil would look like Dutch, God save his soul — does he, here, mean himself, Satan, or Dutch? Arthur still doesn't know, supposes that they all need saved just as badly — and that he'd be worker of the month down there, too.

Turning tricks, maybe, wouldn't that be funny, workhorse to company pony, he thought recently, and then the pains started in earnest because workhorse wasn't always his middle name and it hurt badly to think of the days before.

Arthur still wants to go back.

It's been nearly an hour since Micah kicked him in the ribs. He knows, because he has become good at telling time, as if the universe is letting him on all those preternatural secrets a little early. It hurts so badly that it has ceased hurting at all— wouldn't he be sad to know it, if Charles had not shot him once Dutch had discarded him, too.

So many emotions on the matter of Dutch, yet no time to feel them. It's a good thing he began grieving him when Hosea died.

Instead of the sharp, white-hotness that he had worried was a rib puncturing his already squeezed lungs, there is now a constant ache throughout his body, maybe his very soul; he had used all of his breath screaming when Charles tried to move him, has not gotten one good one in since, and he thinks they both know the truth.

It's all up to one cough.

One last kick in the ass and it's lights out for old Mister Morgan, because that rattling in his breath can only mean one thing.

Charles kneels before where he lays on his side, looks down at him the way he had looked at that gored horse they came across while hunting, months ago— the way he looked at it before he told Arthur to put it out of its misery. He couldn't pull the trigger, even if he knew it was the kind thing to do. There is something meaningful in that memory which Arthur cannot think of words for, but he understands it the way men understand things when they are dying: silently, and completely.

Why is Charles so quiet, now? Arthur's eyes fall shut, and he cannot find the strength to open them for a long time.

He wouldn't be greedy if God came to him and said sure, son, you all look like ants from here, I'll drop you back into seventy-eight. Blood is seeping into his lungs, has to be, and every drop makes Heaven and Hell sound a whole lot more real.

In a perfect world, he might have left and made house with Eliza or made himself suitable for Mary, swallowed that boring life the happy way most men do. Because he would know. He would work in a mine and he would be happy to breathe in the coal, because he would know.

His wedding ring, he would know that, too, and suddenly this split-second daydream becomes a nightmare all over again.

I need to move on, Arthur, she wrote. It was one less thing to leave behind.

Sometimes he wished that Charles went, too, that he had chosen the type of belonging he'd grieved so often or that he had chosen Dutch, never to be on this mountain in the first place. That he had spat on Arthur and left him without a trace of his mortal life as he lay here dying, none except the familiarity of the sun breaking the sky and the grass dancing in the valley below — dancing, what a funny word for it, or maybe he's just hallucinating as his consciousness begins to slip to—

Well, wherever it's going to go.

No matter what, Arthur wishes that Charles did not look at him that way when he decided to stick around. They both knew it was because of Arthur, and they both knew it was temporary. He's been giving him the same look. Something like love, and grief.

I'm not dead, he wants to tell him, but Arthur knows there's no difference now and Charles doesn't deserve any more lies, anyways.

He lied to everyone, and selfishly.

How many of them will die? Hosea was coughin' more. Was I contagious before...?

That day, Arthur had realized just what all those science folks mean when they say humans are brief, in the grand scheme of things even if he was not egotistical enough to believe life begins and ends with himself— but men are temporary, and there's only been so many of them, and there only will be so many of them. He had marveled at the huge, ancient bones he found for that odd little critter of a lady, months ago.

Just yesterday, he entertained the idea that God had been real even before he needed Him most, and that He was telling him something by crossing their paths: Life before you, life after you. Don't get comfortable.

Rest assured, Big Man, he thinks, I am not.

But somehow, he almost is.

Death is certain, now. There is no guessing here, no waiting without knowing.

Some divine intervention, he's sure all dead men receive it as a consolation prize of sorts for completing the great big task of living. Charles' large, warm hand is on his shoulder, light as a feather. He tries to speak, even though he can barely think in words, and all he manages is a groan that comes from deep in his gut.

Arthur wishes he would crush him, that he'd hold him even if it made him scream in agony. He wishes Charles was—

Was—

No, he doesn't. He doesn't want Charles to give him the mercy execution.

Arthur just wishes he were not giving Charles his own form of execution. He is laying still, grimacing hard each time the shallow raise and fall of his chest makes his body scream. Charles has no idea what he is feeling, but he must be able to see on Arthur's face that he's feeling things inside his body which should not be happening: the sac of his lung ripping further open, his bowels threatening to let go, his sternum pressed tight to the skin above from a week of near-starvation because there is no amount of food that could feed the disease that is eating him alive.

He knows how it feels to watch a man you love die, even if his had been his father and he's certain that it's harder at their present age, and when you've chosen to love someone. No hands of blood had pushed them together.

Arthur wishes he had known it sooner.

He doesn't know if he ever wants to hear it from Charles' mouth, but he blinks his eyes open as the vague, misty image of that day finally fades for good. The sky is breaking hard beyond the shadow of Charles' form. It is glorious as sunrises always are. He feels his bones grinding on one another. He is clenching his teeth so hard, his molars are about to be pushed through the gums and into his mandible.

Never one for making his own decisions, Arthur wonders again if God is real or if he is coping with this horribleness in the only way he knows how: relying on someone else.

Again, he wants Charles to crush him. Even if it stabs the broken rib through his lung and out his back, even if it kills him before he can use his last breath to find out how his throat smells— he wants Charles to be the one to hold him.

Hosea is gone. So is Dutch. Arthur would long for Charles even if they were both here, although alarmingly he feels as though Hosea is somewhere around him — he cannot see, smell, or hear him but he knows it silently, and completely.

I love him, Arthur is thinking, has no time to study how selfish he would have felt just one month ago for his desires in this moment. Dead men cannot regret any longer, or maybe regret becomes like the pain when you are dead, grows so big that it blocks out the sun of peace. He made me feel safe, he thinks, already in the past tense, as if he is rehearsing what he will tell all the fellow skeletons.

He squints through the morning light and finds Charles' face, drawn tight in an expression he has never, ever seen before.

His eyes are open sores. He's never looked more like an angel.

With the last of his breath, Arthur opens his mouth and finds it suddenly very hard to draw in air. His throat itches, and if he swallows this cough he will simply choke on his own vomit instead— so he begins to hack, feels his lungs decompressing and the violent convulsions through his abdominal wall as things that are not meant to touch it touch it.

He gets his wish, because Charles is curling around him. He wants to shove him away, but then he doesn't; if Charles is going to get sick, he already has, and this is all he could have ever wanted in this moment. Charles is warm, and his chest presses over Arthur's jolting side as if holding him still, and he realizes the man has been talking but he has no time to regret not listening.

He's forgotten English, anyways, doesn't think in words anymore but feels everything. His throat thickens with the metallic taste of blood and his body squeezes, squeezes— Arthur goes stiff in panic and shock, fingers of both hands clawing into Charles' arm, and if either of them were sober the blood his nails draw would be felt.

In the moments before he can no longer breathe, he sees — with that nonmaterial eye that shows men dreams, nightmares, the best novels — something like peace.

Yes, Hosea feels very close now, and Charles, very far away.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 spoilers #charthur #arthur morgan #charles smith rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #angst #oneshot #ask #charles x arthur #major character death #kinktober 2024 #Now if you guys don't mind me I am going to have to cheer myself up #Tone tag on this fic: evil!

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scarfacemarston · 1 year ago

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J and E for arthur please! and maybe this is cheating but could i have a bonus how he’d get back together too bc i can’t have angst without a happy ending 🥹

For have a second I thought you said Arthur cheating and I would have been like, nooo. This is a longer one because you gave me three prompts.These have also been added to the Charthur tag by request. Please let me know if there is another ship that should be added. Prompt here for everyone! J: Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they're jealous?) - Given that he has low confidence and how humble he is when it comes to love, I feel like it's more of a "Oh, of course she found someone, they are younger/more attractive/more well off/etc than me." However, that doesn't mean he doesn't feel it. He tends to be a bit more weary in camp or saloons. Camp because it's something he's picked up from others and it makes sense that people know that you two are in a relationship. At a saloon, he's thinking of potential "low lives". However, places like the nicer parts of St. Denis can trigger him as well because he feels like he can't give the reader what they deserve. He might say a self deprecating comment, or he may say a sarcastic comment to the person flirting and snake an arm around your waist. It depends on his mood. E - Ending (if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?) I think it would only be if he was feeling insecure and thought they were better off with someone else. Maybe he sees reader having a good time with Sean, Sadie or Lenny and he feels as though he can't provide that for the reader, so it's best to let them go. Arthur is very tolerant so I don't see it as something that is small or a bad habit. He had a very complicated relationship with Mary and regardless of one's opinion of her, she did have a lot of power over him. I think with the reader, it would be the same and the reader would have to be careful not to take advantage of him. He's a people pleaser with more than just Dutch and Hosea and that would include the reader. I think if he started acting low honor-ish or at least engaging in more criminal behavior, he would think that you don't need to be dragged down by him. Then, the talks of "I'm too old. I have a lot of baggage. There are more honest men out there." etc. begins. Unless reader did something horrible, that's the only way I see Arthur ending it. To him, break ups are more likely a "him" problem, not a you problem. Bonus: Getting back together: I really don't see him actually pursuing that on his own. He'd have to get a lot of hints about it first from you. He's not "going to make a fool" of himself again. Hosea, Charles, Lenny or Abigail would have to talk sense into him or the reader would have to make it clear that they want him. It's not the gushy answer you may want, but meta wise, it's the realistic answer. I like to combine the two. It would be awkward at first, quiet conversations that are pretty surface level until he blurts something out about what he feels when the tension becomes too much, or if he says some unexpectedly funny comment. Once that first step is taken, he's still apprehensive, but gains his confidence back from there. Again, reader has to be VERY communicative and clear with him. From there, it would be going out on rides together, just the two of you, or exploring a new place he found. Maybe he'd take you hunting, or to town if you really wanted to. It would be slow, but if you/reader loved Arthur, it would be worth it.

#rdr 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x male reader #arthur morgan x gender neutral reader #van der linde gang #red dead redemption 2 #charles smith x arthur morgan #charthur

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strawberryrosess · 19 days ago

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Flowers in the Wind

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Charles Smith

Warnings: period typical homophobia, light angst.

Summary: A little Charthur fic of the boys being oblivious to their feelings.

A/N: I didn't edit this so please ignore any mistakes! I also suck at writing correct 1899 dialogue, so I gave it my best shot.

This fic is also on AO3!

From the moment Charles joined the gang, Arthur knew he was in trouble. From the moment he laid eyes on the new member, Arthur was absolutely smitten. Arthur had never seen a more beautiful man than Charles Smith, and he didn’t care that his risky thoughts about the other man were wrong.

For as long as Arthur could remember, he was attracted to women. Sure he could admire a handsome man, like Javier, but he couldn't ever remember feeling any sort of attraction to them. When he was out at a bar with one of the girls and they pointed out a handsome man, Arthur would agree with them, but who didn’t appreciate a pretty face. Of course Arthur would never say any of these things out loud as it wasn’t socially acceptable for someone to like another person of the same sex. This didn’t stop whatever happened behind closed doors, but in the streets it was severely frowned upon. Arthur never truly understood why, he figured people could like anyone they wanted, but then again the gang was a lot more tolerant than most people.

Arthur was one of the first people to invite Charles on jobs and hunting trips, and it was very self-serving; he really wanted to get to know Charles better. But he also enjoyed working with Charles, the two of them discovered that they work very well together. They could perform a robbery or a stick up job in record time. Even though they had only known each other a few months, Arthur and Charles understood each other and could read the other person very well. Charles had also been helping Arthur improve in a number of skills, especially tracking. Arthur admired how Charles could track pretty much anything. Charles had definitely caught Arthur staring for a little longer than he should but the other man didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, Charles never said anything.

The two of them would often go on multiple day outings together, hunting and robbing, often bringing back a decent haul of goods back with them. Dutch never seemed to mind when the two men would leave for days at a time because their return would always be worth it. As time went on and Charles’s position in the gang became more permanent, Arthur found himself falling harder and harder. To the point that his feelings were getting harder to hide around the other man. Sometimes Arthur would fumble around when Charles was speaking to him or Arthur would be a little clumsy with his hands. Multiple times he had missed shots with a bow when Charles was explaining to Arthur how to shoot properly, especially when he would place his hands on Arthur’s. Arthur wasn’t a religious man, but he prayed that Charles didn’t notice the effect he seemed to have on Arthur. Arthur had a certain facade he had to keep as Dutch’s fierce right hand, but Charles would turn him into putty the moment he started talking to Arthur. Arthur also sometimes hid his face under the brim of his hat when Charles would make him blush.

Arthur felt like a foolish girl with his school girl crush on Charles. Eventually, his feelings got too confusing for him and he confided in Hosea, after making the man swear on his life never to tell anyone. Of course, ever the understanding man Hosea was, he listened to Arthur's every word and offered him some fatherly advice. Hosea seemed pleased that Arthur had found someone else that caught his eyes, especially after Mary Linton. Hosea resented the girl ever so slightly for breaking his son's heart. Hosea also appreciated that Charles seemed to bring out a different side of Arthur. Arthur was the type of person to watch from afar and observe, only participating when he needed to, but he found himself actually engaging in conversations with Charles and always left wanting more. As he promised, Hosea never told anyone about Arthur's affections towards Charles, especially because those types of affections were frowned upon in that day and age.

Charles found himself also falling for a certain rugged cowboy, but he was able to hide his affections a little better. Choosing to shove them down instead of thinking about them. Charles had always been a bit of a loner, hopping from gang to gang, never really staying for more than a few weeks, but after meeting the van der Linde gang he found himself wanting to stay. Especially after becoming friends with Arthur. Charles liked that he and Arthur could just coexist together, no one needed to always be talking. Charles liked silence more often than not, and Arthur didn’t seem to mind this. Charles also liked that Arthur was efficient and meticulous about his work, he could be a bit violent but he always got the job done. Arthur was also one of the only people who could get Charles to crack a smile or get a laugh from him, whether it be his effortless digs at gang members or blatantly roasting other people. There was just something about the cowboy that Charles was so captivated with, and he was always ecstatic whenever Arthur chose him to take on hunts or jobs.

The two of them continued to dance around each other and be completely oblivious to the other person's feelings. Arthur was getting tired of having to hide his feelings from Charles, he wanted nothing more than to confess to the other man but he was also terrified of what Charles would say.

Arthur said goodbye to Hosea and Dutch, saying that he and Charles would be back in a few days. The two older men didn’t mind, they knew that Charles and Arthur would bring the gang some decent resources. Arthur mounted his horse and nodded to Charles, who was sitting on his own mount. The two of the trotted out of camp and headed towards the Heartlands, their camping spot for the next few days.

The two of them rode in silence for most of the journey, Arthur occasionally whistling a tune. They both heard thunder in the distance and turned to look. Thick black storm clouds were rolling in their direction.

“We should pick up the pace a little bit, we don’t want to get caught riding in those.” Charles said, his smooth voice breaking the silence.

“Agreed.” Arthur drawled, kicking his mare into a canter. Charles followed suit, riding on Arthur's heels all the way to their destination. Their camping spot was a rocky outcropping which partially shielded them from the incoming winds. Charles made sure the horses were safely tied down and also safe from the harsh winds the storm was bringing in. Arthur set up their tent, he had packed a two person tent so they could both fit inside comfortably. He made sure to pound the spikes into the ground extra hard just in case. Arthur took one last look of the clouds now overhead before retreating into the tent for the night. While waiting for Charles, he lit up two lamps for a little bit of warmth and opened two cans of beans and peas for their dinner. He heard the first few raindrops on the tent and watched as Charles slid into the tent. His wet skin glimmering slightly in the low light,

Arthur couldn’t help but stare for a moment too long. Charles settled down into the spot beside Arthur, placing his weapons beside him. Arthur handed Charles a metal coffee cup full of beans and peas, Charles raised his eyebrow at the other man.

“We don’t have any bowls.” Arthur said, noticing Charles' confused look.

“I knew we forgot to pack something.” Charles replied sarcastically, with a cheeky smile.

“Shut up.” Arthur mumbled, blushing slightly and Charles laughed softly. Arthur relished the sound of his laugh, he could listen to it forever. The two men ate their dinner listening to the rain and wind pound the surroundings. After dinner, they did their own thing, Arthur writing in his journal and Charles whittling a small piece of wood.

Arthur flipped through the pages of his beloved journal and his drawings of Charles caught his eye. He stole a glance at the man across from him, the look of concentration on his face as his skilled hands worked away at the piece of wood in his grasp. Arthur wondered what he was making, or even if Charles knew what he was making or if he just picked away until something came out. Charles had gifted Arthur a small wooden horse he had carved once, and he felt pride seeing it sit on Arthur's shelf in his quarters at camp. Arthur wished he had that type of skill, to take an ordinary piece of wood and turn it into something so amazing, instead he was blessed with the ability to draw pretty much anything. He desperately wanted to tell Charles how much he truly loved the man, and apparently his brain did too because Charles looked up at him. Arthur hadn’t even realized he had said Charles' name.

“What’s up, Arthur?” Charles asked softly. Arthur debated for a moment if he should actually tell him, but Arthur figured he could always run away to another country like Canada or France if this goes badly.

“I, Uh, wanted to tell you something.” Arthur said, trying to keep himself calm by fiddling with the pencil in his hand. Charles sat there in anticipation, the low light making his face seem even more handsome. Arthur took a breath before speaking, his nerves going crazy.

“Charles, I really like you, like more than any person should.” Arthur tried, he was never really great at expressing his feelings.

“Are you saying you are sweet on me?” Charles asked, his expression impossible to read. Arthur nodded, and Charles scooted over so he was face to face with Arthur. He could feel the heat radiating off the other man, he could also see the slight dusting of pink on Charles cheeks.

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, I know things like this are frowned upon an-” Arthur’s rambling was cut short by a pair of lips on his. Charles was kissing him, Arthur kissed back. Their lips fit together like puzzle pieces, and they had both waited many weeks for this moment. They broke for air, both panting slightly.

“Does this mean you like me too?” Arthur chuckled and Charles rolled his eyes.

“Yes, Arthur, I do. I have since the moment I saw you.” Charles replied. He placed his hand on Arthur's cheek and placed another soft kiss on his lips. The two of them sat in silence for a moment, just enjoying the other person's presence.

“If you are worried about what people will think, we can keep this,” Charles gestured to the two of them, “for just in private.” Arthur nodded.

“I would appreciate that, Charles, but the odd hand holding never hurt anyone.” Arthur smirked, Charles kissed that stupid smirk off his handsome face.

The two men laid together in the tent, Arthur’s head on Charles' chest while he ran his hands through the cowboys dirty blond hair. They chatted softly and listened to the rain. The storm had calmed down a lot since the beginning of the night. The two men were content for the time being, just the two of them in the middle of the wilderness where no one could disturb them. Charles was grateful he decided to give the van der Linde gang a chance because he got Arthur out of it and that was all he ever wanted was someone to make him feel wanted and valued, especially in the world they lived in. Arthur on the other hand was ever so grateful that Charles decided to stay in the gang because after being Dutch’s right hand and errand boy for so long, Charles made him feel like he was more than just a pack mule and that was something he treasured.

#red dead redemption 2 #charthur #arthur morgan #charles smith #light angst #fluff #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic

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kaphzzz · 1 year ago

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[Charthur | translation] path to the future

Pairing: Arthur x Charles

Rating: Gen

Tags: fluff; angst; open ending

The kiss was merely a secret buried deep beneath the earth, patiently awaiting the day it shall witness the sunrise.

Translated this fic originally written in Chinese by Jageo. It's so short yet brilliantly written, the take on their tentative not-yet-relationship and their careful skirting around feelings, as well as Arthur's usual lack of self love are portrayed so vividly that I just had to translate it so the English speaking majority of the fandom could enjoy it too. With permission, of course. Happy reading!

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr #charthur #my translations

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kisu-doodles · 2 years ago

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I adore your art so so much, especially your charthur pieces! Stumbled upon the john-in-the-trash art piece a month ago and it made me play the game in the first place so thank you for that haha ; Do you have any fic recommendations/ or in general what are your favorite fics?

Omg tysm!!! I’m so glad my feral doodles got u into the game ❤️❤️❤️. In regards to fics it’s honestly hard to narrow down because there are so many awesome ones so this list is by no means comprehensive! I’ll probably update this list to!!!

Shipping:

Charthur:

A great series which I highly recommend! This one is so so so romantic and the angst Ohhhh the ANGST

Ultra romantic and bittersweet with a heaping heap of star crossed lovers plus taught me some irl history if you can believe it

A kinda high school au feat a slow burn romance and the saddest Arthur you ever did see also John and Arthur’s relationship is too precious

Micah is the only str8 in the village and thus clownery ensues

Charles is strong and Arthur is in his feelings about how strong Charles is

John/Arthur/Charles ménage a trois in a modern au feat a thicc Arthur

Bieran:

Kieran says youz a bitch to bill and they bump uglies 👏👏👏

Arthur is just minding his own business then hears bill and Kieran getting freaky. Just cute and funny

Short and sweet with an even sweeter bill

Kierthur: (from previous ask)

#kisu asks #rdr #rdr2 #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2

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pinkysberg · 2 years ago

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i want to write charthur so bad. but i literally only write fics abt morons with internalized homophobia where i put them through the wringer. and i feel like the canon story did this enough to arthur and charles separately that i rly don't wanna write angst about them (the moron thru the wringer part. maybe also the internalized homophobia, depends who u ask). but one thing about me is i can't write fluff. i am very bad at it. that's why I've posted almost 30k words of my john fic and there's not been an ounce of fluff.

for charthur i may just try.

#im very serious i can't write it all i can do is write suffering #thinky

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cainopeia · 2 years ago

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Wondering what stage of decay Arthur Morgan’s body would’ve been in when Charles buried him

#very hozier coded thoughts #now I want to write about this #in a week type vibes #they make me feel awful #I feel horrible inside #Arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #charles smith #charthur #angst

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rodeo-boots · 3 years ago

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hello my dear! i was hoping if i could request some charthur! in many fics i see arthur constantly being comforted by charles, but never the other way around... so many, you could write charles returning back to camp injured/tired, and arthur has to care for him for the night? 🥺 i would love to see some trans!charles as well, but i won't ask for too much... nsfw is welcome, and as always, feel free to let your wonderful brain work its magic with any other ideas you have <3

Thank you so much for your request hny, I hope I did your idea justice <3

Rating: Teen and Up

Words: 3122

Warnings: mild gore, angst

AO3

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Beaver Hollow was a shithole. The air was humid and dense, the mood at camp even lower than the temperatures could get during the nights. Arthur positively hated it, wished they had another choice but to take camp at such a spot. Breathing was getting harder for him by the day and some nights, he rode out only to take a deep breath of fresh air in the wide open meadows elsewhere.

He much preferred being anywhere but at camp, preferred to be far far away from Dutch and Micah, from those friends of his – whatever they might be called. These days, he couldn't even exchange a proper word with Javier or Bill anymore, met with stubborn phrases of loyalty whenever he dared to cross their paths.

The only reasonable people left were getting ready to pack up and leave, and Arthur wished they had done so earlier. He wished Molly had taken that chance while she still had it, wished that John and Abigail and Jack would be long gone by now. Not much longer, and he wouldn't be able to help them anymore, would succumb to the illness nesting within his chest and die the death that's always been destined for him.

He only saw one glimpse of hope and that was Charles, Charles who's loyalty had never solely belonged to Dutch but to a life of freedom. His only reason for being here was the younger man these days, the younger man who rightfully preferred to be anywhere but here himself. He had work on his hands, had assigned himself way too many tasks at once, trying to help out the Wapiti reservation while wanting to provide for the last folks at camp here.

Arthur wished he could help him, but just like Sadie, Charles treated him as though he was already standing in the grave.

Today, Arthur was solely here to catch up with Charles, like he was most of the time. He missed him, missed the times they had once spent together in a past that had been much better than what one might dream up now. All they could do was dream at this point, though Arthur's sleep was plagued by nightmares most of the time.

He had waited an entire day, had asked Sadie just before she could ride off to town. No one knew where Charles was, and by the time Micah saw him trail around camp like a lost puppy one time too many, he took it upon himself to finally give him an explanation.

"Your sweetheart's out huntin', got a little caught up it seems." The man grinned at him with his foul, yellow teeth, Arthur rewarding him with a grunt before he turned on his heel. If that was the case, and Charles had been out for days by now, something couldn't be right. The man was the best hunter they had, the best tracker left at camp. And no one seemed to care about the prospect of having lost him.

Arthur shook Micah off his tail, climbing into the saddle of his horse without missing a beat. Even though he wasn't as talented a tracker as Charles, the man had taught him a few tricks in the past, hopefully enough to come in handy now. He departed without looking back, spurring on his stallion with his heels firmly pressed into his flanks. Arthur snapped the reins, further on edge now than he had been all day. He had a bad feeling about all of this.

It took a while until he had picked up a trail of hooves, unsure if he even could identify them accordingly. His vision swam more regularly these days, his head feeling heavy as he peered down the side of his horse. He felt like he was getting sea-sick but he pushed on nonetheless, having only one goal in mind and that goal being Charles' safety.

All the time they had known each other, they had guarded one another's back better than their own. Arthur had no problem watching out for his friend, though Charles was way more than that to him.

They had ridden out together one too many times, had shared too many stories of the past and plans of the future to consider their relationship as professional and distant as it was meant to be. Often enough, they had kept each other warm at night, had shared their secrets and their doubts, and had listened to what the other had upon his heart.

Arthur's own now beat frantically in his chest. He hadn't noticed how tears had begun to cloud his vision the further he rode. It might be the wind stinging in his eyes, but the air was perfectly still. He brushed the back of his hand over his eyes, blinked, caught his breath and pushed onward. After all the time that had passed, he couldn't be sure how far Charles might've ridden, least of all with a fast horse like Taima beneath him.

He just hoped they were okay.

Day soon shifted into night, and without a trail to follow now that his eyes were no longer of use, Arthur decided to settle down. He didn't bother setting up his tent, didn't bother with much more than a small campfire to stay warm. His nose was running within the cold but he ignored that, too, staring down at his own two feet while his arms loosely hugged his knees to his chest.

A sound from aside tore him out of his thoughts, made his head snap up and his hand instinctively drop to his gun belt. "Who's there?" He asked, rasped more accurately, coughing against the scratchiness of his throat. Maybe he really shouldn't be out here, but it was much too late to turn back around.

He pushed himself up, his bicep quivering beneath his weight, the rustling within the bushes stopping, until a figure pushed through all the way. "Arthur?" He could identify Charles' voice well enough, would never be able to forget it, cursing under his breath as he stumbled to his legs to catch him. The man had to have found him with the last of his strength, had to have followed the smoke and the scent of the campfire until he'd eventually seen him.

Arthur couldn't tell what was wrong from one glance alone, pulling Charles closer to the campfire to examine him. It was dark by now, cold, the humidity making way for temperatures that were much too cruel for most humans to endure. But Arthur knew he was going to die anyways.

"Christ– what's happened t'you?" He muttered, not even daring to ask where Taima might be now. Charles' shirt was left in pieces, torn and bloodied, scratches and what appeared like bitemarks upon his skin. "A cougar?" Arthur asked, laying his friend's head down in his lap while peering down at him with concern in his eyes. The tears were back, but he didn't acknowledge them.

"Murfrees," Charles' voice came, little more than a gust of air, meeting Arthur's cheek as he spoke. The man tried to sit himself up, pushing at Arthur's upper arm to give him space. And while Arthur backed away enough to allow him to breathe, he didn't let him put any more strain on his wounds. He hadn't gotten much of a look at them until now. "What're you doing out here, Arthur? You shouldn't–"

Arthur softly shook his head, muffling a cough with the back of his hand. "Don't talk," he muttered, grabbing for the knife on his belt to help the other man out of his shirt. "S'this okay?" He asked quietly before bringing the blade to the hem of Charles' shirt, watching him swallow until he got a small nod in reply.

His lungs rattled when he exhaled, leaning further above his friend to cut through what was left of his shirt, his breath catching at the gruesome sight of his torso. "How bad's it hurt?" he murmured, catching onto the sweat upon Charles' forehead and the strain in his eyes. He knew he had to act fast if he wanted to help him, able to see that his wounds already had started to swell and shape bruises. When his friend only hummed, his eyelids fluttering in a way that made Arthur's chest constrict painfully, he reached for his satchel right away, pulling out the last bit of alcohol he carried.

Arthur didn't wish to do anything that might make his friend uncomfortable, but he couldn't exactly ignore the deep gashes on his chest, mumbling an apology while ripping fabric off his shirt and drenching it in alcohol. "Hold still," he advised, biting down on his lower lip as he started to clean up the wounds, applying minimal pressure and stopping every time Charles stirred beneath him.

He had never seen the other man in so much pain, had never seen him as vulnerable to begin with, cursing under his breath when he didn't find a set of bandages where he had thought they'd be. "Hang on–" Arthur got to his legs, cushioning Charles' head on his rolled-up bedroll before stumbling over to his horse, his vision clouded by black and white specks.

These days, he couldn't move as swiftly as he was used to anymore, grabbing the saddle for support and gritting his teeth, his free hand slipping into his saddlebag to blindly feel around for the bandages he hoped he carried. He returned to Charles' side right away, falling to his knees in front of him, not caring for the mud that smeared his shins and knees, hands shaking as he unraveled the bandages.

"You'll be alright– jus' hold on," he kept on muttering, even though Charles' eyes had long since fallen shut, his breaths much too shallow for him to see. "It's okay, please…" he wrapped the bandages around his torso, covering all the open gashes he could find, his muscles quivering when he lifted Charles' body ever so slightly. The man was deadweight in his arms, Arthur's lip trembling while his throat grew tighter, swallowing down a sob when he laid the other man down again.

Arthur took off his jacket, covering Charles as well as he could before taking his hands off of him entirely. "Charles? Charles… are you with me?" He couldn't stop himself from reaching out, cupping the man's cheek in his hand, his features peaceful, though that wouldn't calm Arthur just now. His skin looked much too pale, what he could see of it through the illumination of the campfire light at least, running his thumb over his chin as his eyes stayed on the other man.

"Don't you give up on me now," he whispered, his eyes glazing over further. "I– I need you, Charles." And while he knew that the other man was unable to hear him, Arthur couldn't stop talking, the panic within his chest spiking the longer he didn't get a response. "I promised you I'd get you out of here– that we'll run away, make a life for ourselves out West." His breath rattled, a sob leaving his chest after all. Arthur dropped his head to Charles' shoulder, his hands holding onto the man's upper arms.

He tried to calm his breathing, hot tears streaming down his cheeks to seep into the jacket he had covered the other man with. "You can do it– you have to," he mumbled, his voice barely audible through the tightness of his throat. "I still— I still haven't told you I love you." His shoulders shook, keeping his face buried within Charles' shoulder as he stayed hunched over, not caring for how hard it was to breathe like this.

The night had grown darker and colder around them, merely sounds of nature audible after Arthur had passed out from exhaustion. His hand held Charles' in a loose grasp, body curled up by the other man's side to offer him more warmth. The tears had left salty traces upon Arthur's cheeks, his lashes sticking together though he had no strength to open his eyes either way.

Maybe he'd die out here, with Charles by his side, wishing and praying the man hadn't passed away already. Arthur couldn't bear the thought that he might still be breathing while his friend wasn't, the worth of his own life much less than what Charles had amounted to by now. He had only ever wished for his friends and family to be safe, for his loved ones to escape this cruel and harsh life, but it seemed there was no escape. For even when Dutch wasn't involved, people got hurt.

Arthur didn't feel how the other man's fingers moved within his grasp, how Charles squeezed his hand tighter and stirred by his side. He was far gone by now, captured by a deep sleep he hasn't had any way to fight.

It only was with a tightening hold on his shoulder that he eventually woke, turning his head away as he rasped out one cough after another into the crook of his elbow. "Arthur." Charles' voice sounded faint, like it came from far away, even if the man laid right by his side. Arthur turned again, heaving his breaths as he rolled onto his back, his gaze meeting that of the man next to him.

He swallowed thickly, knowing that his eyes had to be reddened and puffy, not only from his illness but because of the crying he had done previously. "You look… horrible," Charles whispered, letting go of his shoulder to reach down and take his hand again. His fingers were clammy, but undeniably alive where they held onto Arthur's.

"I was always ugly," Arthur responded, wheezing out a laugh that turned into another cough before he knew it. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, relief encompassing his expression, though he knew that there was no reason to believe that the worst was overcome just now. "Let's get you home," he muttered, weakly whistling for his horse that had to be somewhere nearby. They had to leave this place, get Charles back to camp to try and stitch him up, hoping that they still had the supplies to do so.

Charles held onto him, not letting go even as Arthur tried to stand, softly shaking his head when he turned to look back down at him. "Leave me," he said. "I'll only be baggage to carry–"

But Arthur wouldn't hear that. "I ain't rode out here to abandon you," he grunted, gathering Charles in his arms as well as he could, his horse already waiting by their side. "We'll get you to camp, get you back on your feet and fix this." It was hard to maneuver Charles onto his horse, the man barely able to keep himself on his own two legs. He managed, anyhow, stubbornly bringing his own body into the saddle behind the man to make sure he wouldn't fall.

"We– we don't got supplies at camp. Don't make it hard on yourself, you can't… safe everyone." Charles' head lolled back against his chest, Arthur dearly trying not to listen to the words he had spoken in an attempt to stay composed.

"Then I'll bring you to the reservation, Rains Fall will—"

"I'm not gonna take anythin' away from them." Arthur snapped the reins, pushing his heels against the flanks of his horse to get the stallion going.

He stayed quiet, brows furrowed while he concentrated on the path ahead, leading his horse through the trees as fast as he could. "I'll get you to a doctor then… just hold on." Charles didn't raise his voice again, so Arthur focused on riding for now, unwilling to face the thought of leaving his friend anywhere to die.

They arrived in Annesburg before the sun had crept too high up in the sky, Arthur stopping a man on the streets to ask for directions to the nearest doctor's office. He had slung an arm around Charles' middle to try and keep him from falling off his horse, the man seemingly passed out once again.

Urgently, Arthur followed the directions he had been given, yelling for someone to come help him once he had found the building that had been pointed out to him. From there on out, everything happened much too fast. There were hands helping him off the horse, hands that pulled Charles from his grasp before he could do or say anything. He only saw how the other man was led away from him before he collapsed on the wooden porch to the building, waving people away that tried to pull him back to his feet.

Arthur woke in a bed with clean white sheets. The room was lit by sunlight, smelling of disinfectant and cleanliness. He stirred, his head pounding nastily when he tried to sit up upon the mattress. His first thoughts belonged to Charles, though he didn't need to search for long until he saw the other occupied bed within the room, grunting as he swung his legs over the edge to stand.

With uncertain steps, he made his way over to the other man, his clothes different from before, white and clean, feeling like nothing he had ever worn in his life. Arthur sat himself down on the chair by Charles' side, able to see that his clothes had been changed, too, the visible bandages around him clean.

He reached over, taking one of the hands the man had rested upon his stomach. His motion seemed enough to rouse him, Charles' eyes blinking open slowly, the dark orbs meeting Arthur's own soon enough.

"You okay?" Charles asked, his voice heavy from disuse.

Arthur stared down at him, shaking his head in disbelief before bringing the man's hand to his lips to kiss his knuckles. "You's the one who nearly died, and you're askin' me if I'm fine." The corners of Charles' mouth lifted ever so slightly, Arthur releasing a light sigh. It was a relieved sound, fueled by his belief that now everything would turn out to be okay.

"What you said to me before, in the forest. Did you mean that?"

Arthur had to think for a moment, not having expected Charles to have heard any of his words at the time, nor for him to remember now. He nodded, kissing the back of Charles' hand once again. "Every word," he whispered, not embarrassed on behalf of what had left his mouth in a moment of desperation.

"Good." Another brief smile passed over Charles' features. "Because I do, too. And I want to keep living." He disentangled his fingers from Arthur's, reaching up to gently grasp his jaw. "With you."

#charthur #charles smith #arthur morgan #red dead redemption fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfiction #angst #tw mild gore #my writing #requests #long post

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cowboywaffles · 4 years ago

Text

If I lay here

Wow lol this is so sad. Angst asf. Charthur asf. There's so many spelling errors plz don't hate me it's 2 in the morning lol

"you know he-" John began as he walked next to Charles along the pavements of Saint Denis.

"yeah" Charles nodded, his eyes avoiding contact with the smaller man's as they walked.

"I went back and buried him and miss grimshaw after the pinkertons left, he where he'd want to be" Charles smiled shortly, his mind casting back to the moment he thought about so very often.

Many years had past since the passing of Arthur Morgan. A man Charles hadn't known for long but had instantly bonded with. The memories he had of Arthur were sweet.

The two would share hunting trips together, Charles teaching Arthur how to better his bow skills, arthur failing at using a bow and questioning why he could just use a shotgun.

Charles was extremely fond of Arthur. The way he cared for his horse, how he helped others. He never failed to bring a smile to Charles face.

Arthur would often find himself lost in thought whilst with Charles. Hed taken to sketching Charles whilst they were both alone. Charles pretended not to notice, but it wsd hard not to laugh when Arthur began avoiding eyecontact everytime Charles caught him looking.

The first time it happened, neither of the pair were expecting it. They found themselves sharing a tent, which wasn't unusual as such, but it was something about Arthur that night, the way his long blonde hair was swept back and running down the nape of his neck, or maybe the way he lay close to Charles, his eyes wondering over the bigger man's face.

Neither of them could resist.

Theyd been awkwardly flirting before hand, but both men were to shy to admit the feelings that had formed.

"I'm sick Charles. It's. It's real bad." Arthur wheezed. His chest tight and his face pale as he rode alongside his secret lover. Charles looked over to Arthur. He'd suspected it. Arthur was losing strength by the day. His face paling, his eyes sinking. He looked tired.

Charles had tried to care for him. Telling him to sleep in whilst he'd bring him stew and tend to him, but Arthur had prioritys he needed to see to, and Charles respected that.

After rescuing Eagle flies, Charles decided to stay behind, leaving the gang. Arthur wanted to stay with him. But deep down he knew what had to be done.

In their final moments together, prying eyes fell apon them as they stood in the middle of wapiti.

There was nothing more they could have done.

Charles drew Arthur into a hug, trying not to look suspicious. Arthur wrapped an arm around Charles shoulder as he inhaled slowly, taking in the familiar scent of the man he loved so very much.

"I love you, arthur" Charles whispered, his lips ghosting over Arthur's ear.

A rouge tear rolled down Arthur pale skin as he nodded. "love you too, Charles" he whispered back, followed by a cough.

He rode off. He didn't look back. He couldnt. There was so much more he wanted to say, wanted to do.

The two had often spoke of their future together, leaving the gang and running away together, living the rest of their days in a small cabin somewhere. Both of them knew it was a low chance. But. They hoped.

Even after Arthur became ill, Charles assured him he'd never stop caring for him.

Arthur lay on the mountain side. The sun rise stinging his eyes but, he didn't seem to mind. It was beautiful. The way the clouds contrasted with the orange sun.

His mind began to wonder. Wonder back to the time him and Charles first layed eyes apon one another. To the time he first joined the gang. To the time he used to take baths with his dog Cooper, the time issac died, the first bank robbery, the time him and Charles went hunting, Pearsons god awful stew, Sean's questionable sense of humour, rescuing John off the mountain, the time he 360 no scoped Mary Linton and sent her flying off a fucking cliff as she plummeted to her well deserved death, getting boadicea and riding her for the first time, the wise words of the nun he'd helped, the photographer who'd nearly gotten himself killed by every animal imaginable, a war veteran hamish, hosea teaching him to hunt, young Jack and the flower crowns he used to make him.

The sick man smiled softly.

He took his last breath, and closed his tired eyes.

"I still think about him, yanno" Charles laughed, the drink beginning to talk as he sat on the newly placed steps of bleachers hope, uncle and John listening to him, both of them judt as drunk.

"there's not a day that goes by where I don't miss the dumb bastard" Charles said, a tear forming in his eyes despite the smile on his face.

"I buried him. I did. Carried his body. He was so, lifeless yet, that was my Arthur"

"and I loved him"

#charthur #rdr2 #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #charles smith

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littlestarofthewest · 4 years ago

Note

Hiya! For the prompt thingies, could we please have arthur + charles + music? 🥺 thank you! 💗

I hit writer's block pretty hard but then this ask gripped me and I went a little over the 100 words 👉👈 I apologize in advance.

One More

Pairing: Charthur | Words: 426 | Tags: slow dancing with a dribble of angst 😅

Charles and Arthur are waiting for Dutch behind the saloon, both eager to get back to camp. They had a couple of rough weeks and Charles feels like it added a few more fine lines to Arthur's face.

"Are you okay?" he asks, getting Arthur to look at him.

"Just tired," Arthur says, "of all this. The plans. Him."

He nods back to the saloon and Charles gets it. He feels the same way. For now, he can't think of a solution, though.

"At least the music is nice," he offers, trying to lighten the mood.

A small smile tucks at Arthur's lips, and he reaches for Charles' hand. "I guess it is."

They move closer, putting their arms around each other like they've done many times before. Arthur pulls at Charles to get him to move while swaying his own hips in an almost comical manner.

"What are you doing?" Charles asks, unable to hold in a soft chuckle.

"Just dance with me."

Charles does although the music fades away, longing taking hold of his heart. "Let's just go. Right now."

It's not the first time they've talked about this and just like every other time, a pained expression crawls on Arthur's face. "You know I want to."

"You just said you're tired of him."

Charles can feel Arthur's fingers tighten against his skin. His voice reveals the inner battle he's been fighting for too long. "I owe him. Besides, I can't just leave the others behind. The girls-"

Arthur shakes his head and goes quiet. After all, Charles knows all of this.

"How much more do you owe him?" Charles asks. "Because I can't see this end well, and I'm not sure I can stay to find out if I'm right."

Charles didn't want to give Arthur an ultimatum, but things have gotten much worse, and he struggled too much to keep his life to throw it away now.

They've still kept dancing but now Arthur stops. Quick, happy music floats out of the saloon, banging at the bubble of agony that surrounds them, unable to penetrate it.

"One more," Arthur says. "I have to give him one more. I'm not- I can't ask you to stay, so if you want out-"

One more," Charles interrupts him, but as soon as he says the words, they fill him with a sense of dread.

"So, you still ride with me?" Arthur asks, his eyes filled with the usual worry and doubt.

Charles touches his forehead to Arthur's, trying to calm his own troubled mind. "Always."

#sorry 😬#charthur #rdr2 ficlet #rdr2 fanfic #my writing

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fangirl-ramblings · 5 years ago

Text

My requests are currently *OPEN*

If you are interested in me writing something for you in the future then please check out some of the short stories I've written for Red Dead Redemption and check out my FAQ (or feel free to message me with any questions if needs be) before requesting anything.

❅────────✧❅✦❅✧────────❅

If any of the links aren’t working, you can also find me on A03

See the full list under the cut (apologies for the for the formatting but i'm in the process of updating)

All NSFW stories will be marked with🍋

Short Stories

Abigail Roberts Marston

x John Marston

Finally found what I've been looking for Fluff

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Arthur Morgan

x reader

You’re too good looking for your own good x g/n reader | Fluff

The First Shall Be Forgotten x g/n reader

The Best Kept Memories x g/n reader | ongoing series

Intruder in the barn x g/n reader | Fluff with a hint of smut

Hush, I’m trying to kiss you! x f!reader | Jealousy & Fluff

I need your touch [🍋] x g/n reader | Self indulgent smut | PWP

x Female Original Character

The Final Goodbye [x Allie Foster] | Angst…just so much angst | CW: death of a spouse

x Charles Smith [Charthur]

I've missed you [🍋] PWP

x John Marston [Morston]

Shut up - I’m nervous too Fluff (with a hint of angst & pining)

Headcanons

Arthur & his bilingual s/o refusing to speak English to Micah

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Bill Williamson

The kids, they ambushed me Angst with a touch of fluff?

x gender neutral reader

Y'all think I’m some kind of idiot Angst turning to fluff

It’s the thought that counts Fluff

These are your favourite candies right? [WIP]

❅────────✧❅✦❅✧────────❅

Charles Smith

Headcanons

Charles and Javier reacting to a s/o with a morbid sense of humour

Charles finding out his s/o is pregnant

Sweet dreams series [x f!reader]

Sweet Dreams Angst / Fluff / Not quite smut / SFW-ish | [Chapter 3 & 4 spoilers]

Trust me I want this Fluff / Not quite smut / SFW-ish

x gender neutral reader

He loves me for me Fluff

x female reader

I like it when you call me Daddy [🍋] Just self indulgent smut / PWP

You owe me a kiss Fluff

Cupid's Arrow Fluff

x Trans reader

Untitled wip Fluff

x Arthur Morgan [Charthur]

‘I’ve missed you’ [🍋] PWP

x Original Female Character

On Your Best Behaviour Tonight? x Lilly Mae James | bordering on NSFW

Part 2 [WIP]

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Dutch Van der Linde

x Hosea Matthews [VanderMatthews]

I want to keep you safe and sound Fluff with a bit of angst

Hosea Matthews

X Dutch Van der Linde [VanderMatthews]

I want to keep you safe and sound Fluff with a bit of angst

❅────────✧❅✦❅✧────────❅

Javier Escuella

’I’m too sober for this’ Happy times in camp | Pure inadultarated fluff

x reader

’Have you been crying? [x g/n reader] | Angst with fluff

‘I told you I wouldn’t be long’ [x g/n reader] | Angst & Worry | [Chapter 4 & 5 Spoilers]

‘Me debes un beso’ [x g/n reader] | Fluff [but mild cursing involved]

A Piggyback Ride? [x f!reader ] | Fluff

How I met your mother [x f!reader] | Fluff - [WIP]

I like it when you call me Daddy [🍋] [x f!reader] | Jealousy | Not so tender sex

x Female Original Character

Mi amor por ti es eterno [x Kira Stephens] | fluff and angst

Headcanons

Charles & Javier reacting to a s/o with a morbid sense of humour [NSFW-ish]

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Jenny Kirk

x Micah Bell

Ain’t No Sunshine When She’s Gone Angst | hint of NSFW | cw: violence / descriptions of wounds

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John Marston

Jesus Christ, have you slept? Angst

x gender neutral reader

You were far too good looking for you own good anyways Angst & Fluff [Chapter 1 spoilers?]

‘The tears are good tears? Kiss me again” Pure fluff

x Abigail Roberts

Comfier than my Pillow Fluff

x Arthur Morgan [Morston]

‘Shut up - I’m nervous too’ Fluff (with a hint of angst & pining)

x Original Female Character

Reunited [x Stevie “Blackheart” Carwyn] | Angst & Fluff

Their First Time [🍋] | [x Lilly Mae James]

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Josiah Trelawny

Don’t look away from me x f!reader (as Mrs Trelawny) | Angst & Fluff

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Karen Jones

Oh honey, I’d never be jealous of you

x female reader

Smoke & Mirrors Pining / Fluff | CW: Mild Violence

x Molly O'Shea

[WIP]

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Kieran Duffy:

Kieran with a strong s/o [WIP]

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Mary Linton

x female reader

Untitled Snippet [wip]

❅────────✧❅✦❅✧────────❅

Micah Bell

x Jenny Kirk

Ain’t No Sunshine When She’s Gone Angst | hint of NSFW | tw: violence / descriptions of wounds

•❅───────✧❅✦❅✧───────❅•

Molly O'Shea

Oh honey, I’d never be jealous of you

x female reader

I’ll make sure nothing bad happens to you Pining / Fluff

x Karen Jones

[WIP]

•❅───────✧❅✦❅✧───────❅•

Sadie Adler

x female reader

’Hush, I’m trying to kiss you’ Pining/ Friends to Lovers / Angst

❅────────✧❅✦❅✧────────❅

Sean Macguire

I'm not mad, but know I expected better from you’ 🍋-ish | Brief accidental voyeurism

•❅───────✧❅✦❅✧───────❅•

Simon Pearson

x Susan Grimshaw [Pearshaw]

The Sweetest Voice Pining

•❅───────✧❅✦❅✧───────❅•

Susan Grimshaw

x Simon Pearson [Pearshaw]

The Sweetest Voice Pining

Ongoing Series:

The Best Kept Memories Arthur Morgan x g/n reader

✧ Chapter 1

Once Upon A Time In Blackwater John Marston x my oc Lilly Mae James [on hiatus]

✧ Part 1

•❅───────✧❅✦❅✧───────❅•

Completed Series:

It Ain’t Over Till It’s Over [John Marston x f!reader] | Fluff with a hint of Angst

Part 1

Part 2

My Original Character: Lilly Mae James

Life before the Van der Linde gang

Letters to camp

John & Lilly’s first kiss

John & Lilly’s first time [🍋]

On Your Best Behaviour Tonight? (Part 1) x Charles Smith | bordering on NSFW

On Your Best Behaviour Tonight? [🍋] (Part 2) [WIP] | x Charles Smith

The Hoodie stays on (Working title) [🍋 ] [WIP] | x Charles Smith

Daughters of Chaos: (Lilly’s RDO posse)

Better in Numbers 🍋 [WIP] | Lilly Mae James x Charles Smith / Kira Stephens x Javier Escuella / Allie Foster x Arthur Morgan | Extremely NSFW

Close to the Heart (expanded) (Working Title) [WIP] | Allie Foster Arthur Morgan / Lilly Mae James x Charles Smith | Angst | inspired by this original story

#fangirl writes #fangirl's masterlist #masterpost

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darlingsdevil · 5 years ago

Text

Rest Easy (RDR2)

My first rdr2 fic! Hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think :)

Warnings: angst angst angst, charthur is written into the subtext but nothing major, spoilers for the end of the game

(Sorry for weird formatting, I’m on mobile, and Idk how to put anything under the cut :x)

Special thanks to my feral friend @jackthecrippled for beta’ing for my 🖤🖤 couldn’t do it without your support owo

(Totally didn’t sneak a dbh reference in there ouo)

Words: 909

•••

Light seeped from the horizon, the early morning air chilled Charles to the core, he was exhausted from searching all night. Only a lantern to light his way through the rocky terrain, he repeatedly stumbled over large pieces of debris.

Charles wondered if he had come to the right place, after a hasty encounter with a wounded John Marston in Van Horn, he learned of the fight that separated John and Arthur. It was a quick encounter, with John talking a mile a minute, it was hard to get more than a few words in. The cowboy explained to him that Arthur had sacrificed himself up on that mountain, but did not know if Arthur had ever made it off. By the tone of his voice, Charles assumed the worst, already preparing to see his closest friend in a bad way, he had seen the shape Arthur had left in, he had already said goodbye. After that, John wished him the best and quickly left, wanting to be nowhere near the mess that had occurred in Beaver Hollow.

Despite his tiredness, Charles continued onwards. He needed to find Arthur and give him peace. He knew if it was himself in that position, Arthur would be doing the exact same as him. He had seen nothing so far, no indication that anyone - or anything had been up here in a long time. Then, his crunched against something hollow, the only sound besides his labored breaths and the occasional howl of a coyote in the distance.

Pulling his lantern closer to the ground, he crouched down inspecting the shattered pieces of a shotgun shell. Charles realized he must be close, receiving a sudden boost of energy, he quickly pulled his lantern up. He paid close inspection to his surroundings, making sure to note any unnatural objects lying around.

The shells became more persistent. A fight definitely happened here, he prayed it was, in fact, Arthur and John’s battle against the delusional Dutch Van der Linde with the villainous bottom-feeders known as the Pinkerton's.

Charles came to a clearing, immediately noticing the dark figure lying on the stark gray ground. His heart fell, his lantern discarded as he quickly ran to the body side.

It was exactly who he expected it to be. Arthur.

Arthur’s face was pale, dried blood covered his mouth and horrifying bruises littered his face. A deep feeling of pain that resonated in his chest spread throughout Charles’ body at the sight of his friend. Arthur’s last hours were not happy, but hopefully, his last moments were looking out at the rising sun.

His beautiful blue eyes were closed, and for a moment Charles saw the life Arthur could have had. Arthur’s arms wrapped tightly around an infant, a wonderful partner at his side. He felt deep regret knowing that Arthur never got the opportunity to have that life and cherished the second chance that he was blessed with. Besides, Arthur had suffered enough heartbreak in his life, Charles hoped that wherever he was - he was at peace.

He remembered the dead man’s words, not spoken that long ago. Arthur wanted to be facing the western sky, and Charles would honor his last wish.

Gingerly, as though not to waken the resting man, Charles picked him up. It would be a far walk to the cliff facing Bacchus bridge, the area he had started in, but no distance was far enough to stop him.

Arthur’s heavy body lay in his arms, the dark shadows covering his abused face, and for that Charles was thankful. It hurt to see his friend that way. His mind was blank while he took Arthur to his final resting place. The world stilled, all the noise and wind stopping seemingly for him and Arthur.

It was lighter out now. The darkness was no longer so disheartening. Instead, he welcomed the brightness, the sun hadn’t begun to peek through the horizon, but it would soon.

When he finally reached the cliff, he set Arthur’s body gently on the ground, as to not disturb him. For the first time, he could think since he had found him. Charles had felt much grief in his life, but nothing quite like this. It was powerful and paralyzing, pulling him to his knees.

Arthur had seen hell and hell lived in him, and despite all of that he changed to become something better. His death, a painful ending to a sad story, but there was love in between that, and Charles hoped that people recognized Arthur’s goodness over his wrong doings.

He had done wrong, and he had done good, it was hard to say what he was in the end.

Minutes passed as he sat next to Arthur’s cold corpse, by now the sun had reached the horizon and was making it’s slow but surely journey across the sky.

He would make a gravestone later, all he wanted now was to sit in silence next to him, wanted to feel Arthur’s warmth close to him again.

He mourned for the man who was good and evil.

He mourned for the life the dead man never got the chance at.

He mourned for Arthur.

In the east, a new day broke. The sun high in the sky now as Charles made his way down the mountain.

In the forest, a large buck seemed to stop and stare at him.

He smiled to himself and nodded.

“Rest easy, Arthur.”

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 spoilers #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 fanfiction #arthur morgan #fanfiction #semi charthur #rdr2 arthur morgan #charles smith #my first fic

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khazadspoon · 6 years ago

Note

“you look really tired” or “you love me, right?” + charthur!

(i’m including this in the AU that @arthurmorgangetspegged came up with and, with permission, mushing it into my own modern AU because why not. No TB yet and just a hint of angst and oo la la so a teeny bit n s f w )

He had blurted out “I love you” when he was halfway to being drunk, that gentle booze-haze forming around the world and everything turning soft when he looked up at Charles. Those dark eyes looked down at him, holding the world within them, and Arthur just couldn’t hold the words back.

Almost immediately he felt the affection turn to acid in his stomach. He had excused himself and thrown up what was left of dinner into the nearest toilet.

Charles, a gentleman and a good man in all the ways Arthur was not, had let the incident go without a word. He didn’t bring it up for three weeks. No doubt it was out of some near-psychic knowing that Arthur didn’t want to talk about it.

And then Arthur had been busy at his shop in the day and working the bar at night, and Charles had been working hard for two happy couples getting married. They barely saw each other over the long stretch of time and Arthur started to withdraw.

It felt a little like when he and Mary had first gotten together. The sweaty palms, butterflies in his stomach, his fingers aching to dial Charles’ now memorised number or to sketch something sappy and romantic. But it felt like more than that infatuation with Mary had. It felt deeper, hotter, full of substance he couldn’t quite identify beyond… Well. Love.

They finally got a night off at the same time and Arthur nearly dropped the phone when Charles called and asked if he wanted to come over.

Charles’ place was above his store. There were only a few flowers, mainly cacti standing tall and proud in their various hand made bowls. Arthur had pricked his thumb on one the first time he’d been there and it had swollen to the point of worry. He avoided it now.

When he steps into the main hall, Charles tugs him into a soft kiss. They stand there, Taima snuffling at Arthur’s feet, and Arthur lets his body relax into the warm embrace.

“Hey,” he whispers against Charles’ lips.

Charles smiles, the curve of it settling in Arthur’s stomach like a good meal. “Hey Arthur.”

They drift to the front room and Arthur all but collapses on the large couch that takes up most of the space. He leans back into the cushions with a groan and laughs as Taima jump on his lap, all seventeen kilo’s pressed right on his thighs. Charles patiently tells the dog to get down and takes Arthur’s hand.

Leaning against one another, Arthur convinces himself to let go of the tension in his shoulders. No doubt Charles’ can feel it; the man can feel his moods in the set of his shoulders, the curve of his back, a twitch of his lips, and it makes Arthur feel known in a way that both unsettles and comforts him.

“You look really tired,” Charles says after a moment, one large hand coming up to stroke through his hair.

“Ain’t that a nice thing to say to a feller,” he replies, eyes shutting as he leans into the touch.

The truth is he feels tired. He’s worked himself nearly to the bone to pay his bills and, in a way, to avoid confronting the confession he had thrown at Charles a few weeks before.

And what is also the truth is that he is terrified. He has already half convinced himself Charles doesn’t love him, can’t love him. And who would? He’s 36, scarred and pudgy and ugly. He knows there’s little about him someone could call beautiful and it stings to see someone like Charles wanting to spend time with him. He sucks in his gut with a self conscious movement of muscle and lifts his chin, angles his face to make the set of his jaw stronger and less… old.

But Charles sees. He always sees.

“What is it?” He asks, gentle and quiet like he was calming some wild horse.

Arthur shrugs and tries not to pick at his fingernails. “Just… wondering what you see in me, is all.”

“What I..?” Charles pauses and his face twists, brows drawing down and that beautiful mouth becoming a frown. “Come with me.”

He stands, takes Arthur’s hands, and tugs him to his feet.

“Why?”

“I’m gonna show you something.”

Arthur follows, pauses in uncertainty as they reach the door to the bathroom. He knows what’s in there - a long mirror under a bright and revealing light. “Charles, I don’t-”

“You love me, right?”

The words hit him hard, not unlike the bullet that mangled the skin of his shoulder. He nods once, unable to lie, and watches the silk-soft affection come back into Charles’ features.

“Then let me show you why I love you.”

He swallows the sob in his throat and lets Charles lead him, lets Charles take the worn t-shirt from his shoulders and the threadbare jeans from his legs. He stands naked in front of Charles’ mirror, watching his own reflection with undisguised distaste.

Charles stands behind him and wraps warm arms about his middle. “Here…” He puts a hand over the middle of Arthur’s chest. “You’ve got a big heart, and I love that about you. You like squirrels, you feed birds in the park, you think every dog or cat is your best friend and I love that about you.”

His hand lifts around, a finger tracing the old gunshot scar. “You’ve been through hell. I know you’ve kept most of it secret and I won’t make you talk, but I love that you made it far enough to stumble into my store.”

Arthur fights against tears as the hands he has felt on every inch of him drop to his hips. They hold on tight, dark skin meeting the pale of his own, opposites in so many ways but still the same somehow. “I love how you feel. I love how you’re not some musclebound jock who cares more for himself than others. I love that when I’m with you, when you’re over me or under me or just next to me, you’re always yourself. I love holding you, all of you. I love kissing you,” his lips meet the flushed skin of Arthur’s neck, fingers tightening for a moment and making him gasp. “I love tasting you, hearing you, all of it.”

In the mirror, Arthur sees Charles’ eyes blazing as they meet his own. He sees Charles’ teeth as they press to his shoulder and moans under his breath. The press of Charles’ crotch against his bare backside sends a jolt of want through him.

“I love how you react to me…” Charles wraps a hand around his cock and tugs gently, coaxes him to rise and stiffen. “You open yourself to me, make yourself vulnerable. I know that’s hard for you and it’s so brave of you. I love that you trust me.”

Arthur does sob now. His chest heaves, body flushing pink and warm as Charles praises him, touches him, makes his pulse race and his mind quiet all at once. He arches into the touch and thrusts his hips, feels Charles grind against him. They move together, their breathing becoming fast and hitched as they turn to kiss one another.

He comes with a sigh as he swallows the I love you Charles whispers against his trembling lips.

#charthur #charles smith #arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2

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