Red Dead Redemption 1 & 2 Oneshots

Charles Smith x Reader - Forever and Always

Requested by @alpha_wolf46.

⚠️WARNING MAJOR SPOILERS⚠️

~Plot-Line:
After years of thinking that the reader was dead from possibly being killed during when the Pinkerton ambushed us at Beaver Hollow, The reader will turn up at Beecher's Hope. She is reunited with Charles, Uncle and John. They are beginning to build a homestead for John and Abigail.

~Relationship Status:
The reader and Charles had an extremely close friendship, almost to the point of a relationship. Since the characters thought the reader was dead, Charles never had the chance to admit his feelings to the reader.

~Word Count:
2371

Enjoy!

Y/N - Your Name
L/N - Your Last Name

——

It had been years since I've ever seen news of what happened to the Van Der Linde gang. I hadn't anything of them, a few shootings of people, but nothing too serious. Some say that they just got up and left. But knowing Dutch and all his problems from the years ago, I doubt it. He probably lost all the money we had, in Beaver Hollow and Blackwater. But that's all he cared about, The money.

The rest of us however, we cared about each other. Sure, money is nice. But it won't grant you happiness. I had missed my family, I didn't really know if anyone was still alive. John, Abigail, Uncle, Javier, Bill, Charles. Charles. I felt my heart thump under my chest, and I couldn't help but feel sad.

We had both been really close, almost too close to be called friends. It had been so many years since I've seen the stubborn man, but I just hope he's alright. I had always hoped for us to be closer, and I knew he had similar thoughts that I had. I guess we were too late to admit our real feelings for each other, damn Pinkerton ruined our chance at Beaver Hollow.

I had missed Charles, I really had. I didn't even know if he was still alive. If he is, I wish him the best. And if I could, I'd like to see him one last time. I'd like to tell him how much I had loved him all these years, tell him how much I had ached to see his face one last time.

My feet were kicked up on a table, and my arms were folded behind my back. My hat was covering my face, my eyes closed. I was off napping, the bright sunlight covering my body. It was hot outside, the hot sun giving us all farmer's fans. A wagon had passed by as I was sitting in a chair with my feet propped up on a table. The horses whinny, and I hear movement from beside me. The sunlight was soon blocked out by whatever was next to me.

I take the hat off my face, and look to the side. There were two wagons parked at my side, blocking the sunlight. I huff, seeing a few of the men carry planks of wood, putting the wood into the wagons. I could have recalled one of them as Uncle, seeing the old fart with that dumb limp of his. More like fake limp, trying to get out of all the hard work.

I chuckle to myself, remember how many times he's gotten himself out. Lumbago was always his excuse, yet usually none of us would believe him. John or Arthur would usually be up his ass about it, telling him to get up and help. Arthur Morgan, now there's a name I hadn't thought of in years. He was a man of his word, someone you could have always looked up to.

I felt a wave of sadness crash into my eyes, a slow tear dropping down my cheek. (Insert real tears of the Author.) I had remembered when Hosea and Lenny were talking about if they ever died, where'd they want his grave. Arthur didn't really care at first, until Hosea finally convinced him. I could remember his exact words,