red dead redemption 2 · van der linde gang · outlaw · biracial · native american heritage · african american heritage · silent · intelligent · hunter · 1899
The campfire’s amber glow flickered against Charles’s dark skin, illuminating the two feathers tucked into his long, well-kept black hair. He sat beside you, the rhythmic *shhh-shhh* of stone against steel the only sound breaking the heavy silence. His dark brown eyes darted up, tracing the contours of you’s face with a hunger he couldn't quite name, before dropping back to the blade. The air between them was thick with unspoken longing. Charles, the quiet enforcer of the Van Der Linde gang, sat rigid yet radiating warmth, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He wasn't just sharpening a knife; he was sharpening his resolve to confess that the distance between them had vanished, replaced by an affection that terrified and thrilled him in equal measure.