#my license plate literally reads 'red dead' do not doubt my love for this game

[annwrites]

—last pale light in the west

due northwest, the soul is bound. & i will go, on ahead free. there's a light yet to be found. — charles smith x orphan!reader ; ˗ˏ➶

You walk slowly over to Charles, nervously tugging at your fingertips as he loads supplies for fishing onto Taima.

"Charles?" You say quietly, now standing to the side of him.

He glances to you. "Yeah? Somethin' you need?"

You take a small step even closer. "Can...can I come with you? Would that be okay?"

He finishes tightening supplies to the back of his horse, sliding his hands into his pockets as he studies you. "You know how to fish?"

You shift on your feet. "I went with my dad a few times when I was little."

Your eyes meet his and you smile slightly. "I could just watch you. Maybe look for herbs. Or nuts, berries."

In truth, you just...dislike when he's not in camp. You prefer being around him. Enjoy being near him.

He glances behind you to Grimshaw, before meeting your eyes once again. "Alright. But only if Susan can spare you."

You nod happily. "I got all my chores done for this afternoon."

You stand idly by, taking the supplies Charles hands you as he unloads bait and his pole from the back of his horse.

Your heart pounds, wanting to finally make your confession. Wanting him to finally have explanation as to why you follow him practically everywhere he goes—always keeping close to his heels.

You worry sometimes maybe you annoy him, but he never says anything about it if you do. Not that he seems very talkative in general.

"I hope me spending so much time with you doesn't...bother you."

He shakes his head, heading for the river bank, you sticking close to his side.

"It doesn't," he states, sitting atop the grass, and you seat yourself next to him, settling his things between the two of you.

"You make me feel safe," you finally blurt out, your face growing unbearably warm after.

His eyes, now full of surprise, meet your own. "I do?"

You nod, scooting the least bit closer. "I like being around you. You're..." You trail off.

You take a breath.

"Steady. A good man."

Your eyes flit down to his large, callused hands. "Strong."

The corner of his lip twitches. If he didn't know better—not that he supposes he does—he'd almost think you fancy him.

"I'm glad," is his simple reply.

You smile nervously, wondering if perhaps you're being too forward. Too obvious about how it is that you really feel.

You don't want to make him uncomfortable, so you decide to stop there instead of telling him just how handsome you think he is— how much you like his scar, the muscled build of his heavy body, his dark skin, his full lips.

Oh, but how desperately you want to.

Eventually, you tear your gaze away from him, if not reluctantly.

Meanwhile, he continues to stare.

He tends to do that a lot now when it comes to you.

When you first joined the group, it'd been out of desperation.

Now...you seem to have found your place. But you never seem happier or more comfortable than when you're with him.

And that means more to him than he's sure you'll ever know. Because he doesn't know how to tell you.

He's not good with words in general—never has been. It's why he chooses to keep them locked inside so often.

So, yes, he looks. More than what is probably to be considered appropriate. Especially for a man like him. A killer. A criminal. Rough around the edges.

While you're so...kind. Pure of heart. Gentle and thoughtful. And after all you've lost...he can't put the burden of a broken man's love on you, too.

Until you say it, because it's been a handful of minutes and his gaze is still upon you.

"You're very handsome," you whisper, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear with a shaking hand, your cheeks warming.

Hesitantly, he rests his large palm atop the back of your hand which is lain between the two of you atop a patch of vibrant green grass.

"Well, I think you're beautiful."

You perk up in much interest, staring at him with a broad smile.

He merely chuckles, removing his hand, gripping his fishing pole.

He lightly shakes his head. "Should've just told you sooner."

You press yourself into the warmth of his side then, smiling contentedly.

after the death of your parents due to smallpox, you're left all alone, and with practically nothing when the bank comes to take your house.

with what little money you have left to your name, you stay at a local hotel, but you know your days with a roof over your head are numbered.

and then a rag-tag group wanders into your small town—half of which are women, such as mary-beth, who introduces herself to you at a small bookstore. the simple question she asks of how long you've lived there leads you to pour out your story of recently losing your family—your entire life—in the span of only two weeks. and then she invites you into the van der linde gang where you meet charles smith.

stoic, strong, and dependable, you quickly attach yourself to him for reasons you can't explain.

you begin to fall for him—thinking he and his culture both beautiful—even if you're sure he could never feel the same for someone as broken as you. but you each come to discover in time, that sometimes it takes broken things to make something whole.

headcanons:

reader honestly follows charles around like a lost puppy

like, close enough at times that if he stops walking she just slams into his backside, apologizing with a quiet 'sorry'

he doesn't have any idea what the hell to make of it, but doesn't say much about it either. just lets her do her thing

she eats beside him, sleeps in a tent beside him, tries to always go with him if he's leaving camp to run into town or for fishing. and sometimes hunting (she just doesn't want to scare game off)

he speaks very little, but when he does, she's always right there to listen, desperate to know everything about him

she wants to know his story, about his culture, his belief system, etc

honestly, if charles ever just up & left the group, she'd beg to go with him just so she wouldn't be parted from him. the thought of losing him leaves her feeling adrift

the two eventually just fall into a relationship together & have eyes only for each other

he'd do anything for her & she for him

he's incredibly giving in bed—only caring that she's taken care of

very protective, especially against micah

gifts her pelts and pretty rocks, etc. things from nature he thinks she might like. not really about store-bought gifts, unless it's something he knows she needs that he can't make/find himself.

teaches her self-defense, also how to scavenge & make things, how to treat wounds, make medicine, hunt, fish, etc. just all around wants to make sure she's self-sufficient incase anything ever happens to him. even if it means the world to him that she feels safe in so heavily relying on him. he considers it a privilege that she does so.

before they're ever together, she asks to sleep with him in colter so she can stay warm. that's only about half the reason she wants to, lmao.

does the same, at times, at horseshoe overlook.

since clemens point is a good deal warmer, sometimes she strips down a little, but only in front of him, just to get a reaction out of him.

just daydreams of being a sweet little housewife for him a lot of the time lol.

not that he minds the idea of knocking her up occasionally. loves the idea of building her a home to replace what she's lost. really likes the idea of being a provider for her.

ik he drinks at that bar in valentine, but i headcanon, that, due to his father being an alcoholic, charles doesn't drink. at all.