#Redemption Part 2

[filmjunky-99]

s t a r t r e k t h e n e x t g e n e r a t i o n created by gene roddenberry [redemption, part ii, s5ep1]

'One night, when I was four years old, she came to me. She bundled me up, and she told me to stay quiet as we left the compound.

I realised she was taking me away. She was taking me away from my home, my father, so I cried out.

My father offered her life. He gave her a home, gave her a child, and how did she repay him? By betrayal. They executed her.

Everything in me that was human died that day with my mother. All that's left is Romulan. Never doubt that.' - sela

[drownthehatch]

[sketchupnfries]

Stupid sketches that I had to get out of my system after I finished the "A Bright Bouncing Boy" stranger mission from RDR2. I now call that mission "The time when Arthur Morgan helped Dr. Doofenshmirtz build Norm the robot at Doofenshmirtz Evil Inc."

[sky-is-the-limit]

I dunno about you but drunk sex slays and the thought of it with one out of the big red dead four (John Arthur Charles or Javier) just makes me 🌊💦💧

Thank you anon for this:))))))))))

WC: 5,117 words.

P: Arthur,John,Javier and Charles x F!Reader

CW: public sex, blowjob, cunnilingus, cowgirl

𝘈𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘳:

You sat by the crackling campfire, the night draped around you like a comforting blanket, waiting patiently for Arthur to return from his outing with Lenny.

As the minutes stretched into hours, the quiet of the night was suddenly shattered by the sound of husky laughter and stumbling footsteps approaching the camp.

Arthur stumbled into view, his usually composed demeanor replaced by a boisterous energy, his laughter ringing out into the night. You watched as he stumbled towards you, his movements unsteady and his words slurred with intoxication.

"Hey there, sweetheart!" He exclaimed, his voice louder than usual, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he approached you, his arms outstretched in an exaggerated gesture of affection.

"Arthur.." You greeted him with a chuckle, reaching out to steady him as he stumbled forward. "You're drunk."

He grinned at you, his usual charm amplified by the alcohol coursing through his veins. "Just a bit," He admitted with a laugh, his words slurring together slightly. "But I missed you, darlin'."

As Arthur held you in his drunken embrace, he leaned in close, his warm breath tickling your ear and he whispered, "Come with me, I want to show you something."

Curiosity piqued, you allowed him to lead you away from the camp, the darkness of the trees enveloping you like a cloak. With each step, his intoxicating scent of whiskey and cheap cologne hung in the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of the forest.

Finally, he stopped, the trees providing enough secrecy around you. Before you could protest or question his intentions, Arthur pressed you against a sturdy tree trunk, his lips crashing against yours in a passionate kiss.

His embrace was fervent and urgent, fueled by the fire of his drunken desire. His hands roamed eagerly over your body, his touch electric against your skin as he pulled you closer, his breath hot against your lips.

///

And that was how you found yourself, dangerously close to getting caught by the rest of the gang, pressed firmly against the rough bark of a tree, stripped naked to his mercy.

The stretch was breathtaking, every centimeter of his length sending electrifying waves of pleasure through you as he pounded away relentlessly. With each rapid thrust, Arthur grunted huskily, his teeth clenched together in sheer determination. His eyes remained fixated on your bouncing form, his gaze intense and unwavering.

"Arthur-" You gasped, your breath coming in ragged bursts, heat flooding your body.

In that moment, every sensation overwhelmed you, yet you yearned for more. There was nothing in this world, in that moment, more important than Arthur Morgan, thrusting into you with an intensity that felt like a primal need with your leg wrapped around his defined torso and his large palms roaming the curves of your body.

''Beautiful-'' He whispered between pants, his voice a husky echo against your skin as he leaned in, his lips tantalizingly close to your quivering flesh.

''You are mine.'' With a possessiveness that sent shivers down your spine, he enveloped one hardened nipple in his mouth, drawing it between his lips with a hunger that left you trembling. His tongue danced with an almost predatory insistence, claiming you entirely in a way that left you powerless to resist.

With each of his forceful thrusts, you reciprocated with equal intensity, your nails digging into his forearms with a ferocity that threatened to break skin, and your teeth grazing against his lips as you captured his mouth in a hungry kiss when he turned his face towards you.

''Please- Arthur, please!'' You knew you were babbling, but the overwhelming sensation coursing through your veins left you unable to form coherent words.

''Quiet, sweetheart. You don’t want anyone to catch us, do you?'' Arthur's voice was low, sending shivers down your spine as you struggled to maintain composure amidst the overwhelming waves of lust. His words ignited a fire within you, the intensity of his gaze leaving you feeling dizzy with desire.

Your eyes rolled back in pleasure, your breath coming in short gasps as you tried to focus on just breathing. With each movement of his hips, Arthur's rhythm intensified, the sensation bordering on maddening as he drove himself deeper into you.

''Can you be quiet for me?'' He whispered, his hand moving from your mouth to rest gently on your lower back. You nodded in response, your teeth sinking into your lip as you fought to stifle the moans threatening to escape your lips.

Your body started to shake uncontrollably, tremors coursing through every fiber of your being. With each passing moment, the sensation intensified, rendering your legs numb and leaving every muscle sore and cramped. Even the slightest movement sent waves of soreness rippling through you, threatening to overwhelm your senses.

Despite the haze of alcohol, he remained attentive to your every move, his hands a steady anchor that kept you upright. With a firm grip, he ensured you didn't falter or lose balance, his eyes never wavering from your features as he sought to understand your every emotion.

Hot tears welled in your eyes, a mixture of pleasure and intense emotion that threatened to spill over with each hard motion of his body. Arthur was so deep, so incredibly deep inside of you that it felt as though he was reaching places untouched, bringing pleasure straight to your soul.

Your muscles twitched and spasmed in time with his relentless thrusts, the rhythm of your bodies syncing perfectly as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. Each moan that escaped your lips was met with the wet fabric of his shirt, the sound muffled but unmistakable in the heat of the moment.

"Good girl," Arthur murmured, his voice laced with a hint of amusement, a rare smirk gracing his lips, a sight reserved only for moments like these, fueled by the intoxicating effects of alcohol. ''Good fucking girl.'

The pressure building inside of you reached its breaking point, shattering your senses. In that moment, you clung to Arthur desperately, pulling at his hair and digging your nails into his skin as if he were your lifeline.

Open-mouthed cries of pleasure escaped your throat, the intensity of your orgasm too powerful to be contained. Arthur cursed under his breath, his focus solely on maintaining his movements long enough to ride out the wave of your climax.

He could feel you gushing wetness, squirting on his cock and leaking down both of your thighs. He wasn’t strong enough to resist the pleasure that came with the realization that he’d made you spasm so hard your body couldn’t control itself. He followed, pumping his cum deep inside of you while your folds squeezed the life out of him.

Time seemed to stand still as you clung to each other, reluctant to let go of the moment. When Arthur finally pulled away slightly, you whimpered, clinging to him tighter, craving the comfort and reassurance that only he could provide.

''I know, sweetheart. I know." Arthur's voice was soft and comforting as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. He could sense the weight of your emotions, knowing that you must be feeling overwhelmed in that moment.

"You did so good.'' He murmured, his hand gently rubbing your back in soothing circles.

𝘑𝘰𝘩𝘯:

As you slipped out of your dress, the fabric cascading around your ankles, you felt the weight of the day lifting from your shoulders. The dim light of the lantern cast shadows across the canvas walls of your tent, creating a cozy sanctuary amidst the chaos of the gang outside, singing songs around the fire.

With each button undone, you reveled in the sensation of freedom, relishing the cool air against your skin as you prepared to settle for bed. The soft rustle of fabric echoed in the silence as you reached for your nightgown, a familiar routine that brought a sense of comfort to the end of another long day.

But just as you were about to slip into the warmth of your nightclothes, the tent flap suddenly stirred, and there he was, John. His usually rugged features were contorted with jealousy, his eyes clouded with the haze of alcohol as he stumbled into the tent.

"John?" You exclaimed, surprise and frustration warring within you as you struggled to comprehend his state. "What are you doing here?"

He ignored your question, his gaze fixed on you with a mixture of desire and accusation. "You've been spending too much time with Javier!" He slurred, his words heavy with bitterness as he collapsed onto the ground beside you, his drunkenness palpable.

You sighed, feeling a pang of sympathy for him even as irritation prickled at the edges of your patience. "John, I told you. Javier is teaching me how to play guitar. There's nothing between us."

But he wasn't listening, lost in his own insecurities and doubts. With a pout that bordered on childish, he reached out to you, his fingers brushing against your skin in a clumsy attempt at affection.

"I wanna teach you something, too.." He murmured, his voice low and husky, his lips trailing along the curve of your neck as he spoke.

You shivered at the sensation, the heat of his touch sending a thrill racing down your spine. Despite the lingering frustration of his outburst of jealousy, you found yourself unable to resist the magnetic pull of his gaze, drawn to him with an intensity that left you breathless.

"What do you want to teach me?" You whispered, your voice barely more than a soft sigh as you surrendered to the hunger that burned within you.

///

You couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude towards Javier. His presence close to you eventually led you sinking down on your knees as your jealous lover stood before you. It was as if the flames of his possessiveness ignited a primal need within him, driving him to assert his dominance and claim you as his own.

Letting out a satisfied sigh, you drank in the taste of his precum, reveling in the salty sensation as it danced across your taste buds before John rested his large, calloused hands upon your hair, gently guiding your movements with a firm touch.

His eyes were half-lidded, heavy with want, as you worked your magic, eliciting a drawn-out, staticky moan from deep within his chest.

You flattened your tongue more efficiently, eager to please him, to elicit even the slightest tremor of pleasure from his lips.

For a fleeting moment, a sensation of blazing heat washed over the back of your throat as you released him, lowering your head to place a tender kiss at the base of John's throbbing cock.

As your tongue darted out to caress the prominent vein, tracing its path with delicate precision, he struggled to contain the building pressure threatening to erupt within him.

A loud groan escaped John's lips as he lifted his hips slightly, urging you to take him deeper into your mouth. The unexpected motion caught you off guard and you fought against the instinct to gag, your body instinctively adjusting to accommodate him even as tears welled up in your eyes and began to trickle down your flushed cheeks.

''That's my girl-'' He murmured, his voice hoarsed as he tightened his grip on your hair and with a quick thrust, followed by a sharp gasp, he was sheathed fully in your throat.

You desperately tried not to gag as he continued to exert himself, pulling out of your mouth just to slam his length back in you again. He was using you, like a toy to release his pent-up sexual tension and unreasonable jealousy, and you could not have been more aroused.

"These lips belong to me, understand?" He grunted, punctuating his declaration with another forceful thrust into your throat.

The once defiant man now emitted sounds you had never heard before, a mix of a squeal and a moan, interspersed with gasps for air. You reached out to cup his balls through the fabric of his pants, feeling his member twitch under your tongue.

John drooled, his mouth slightly agape, his eyes tightly shut, his breath heavy, like music to your ears.

But what struck you most was the absence of his usual smirk, instead, a slight frown adorned his face as he gasped with each thrust into the recesses of your throat. You could tell by the look in his eyes that he was close to release.

Profanities and shameless moans filled the quiet of the night, ensuring that the rest of the gang members close by would hear. John pulled your hair rather harshly, evidently losing control as he maneuvered your head just the way he desired.

The vibrations of your unfiltered sounds spread throughout his sensitive length, further enhancing the tingling pleasure he was feeling.

Without pause, he continued to fuck your throat with each jerk of your head, thrusting his cock down your throat just as he brought your head down to swallow him whole. Your lewd gags were the most beautiful sounds, and even more so, the thick pools of your saliva that connected your mouth to his length, the most beautiful sight.

The ache between your legs pulsed with each passing moment, the next breath that left your lungs rolling out in a trembling whine. Your skin felt as if it wanted to fly off your body into the next star system, consumed by the overwhelming sensations coursing through you.

Without warning, he pushed even deeper, and you understood immediately why. His orgasm ripped through him, eliciting another prolonged groan of satisfaction as his essence coated the back of your throat.

As he finally relented, leaving a strand of saliva and semen bridging your lips, he held his still pulsating member against your face, releasing one final burst that streaked across your forehead and hair.

You gazed at John in absolute awe, your senses still reeling from him soring both your lips and throat as he gradually descended from his euphoric state.

His eyes met yours, a smoldering intensity that made your breath catch in your throat and as he looked down at you, still kneeling before him, he reached out to caress your cheek, his touch gentle. His fingers, coated with remnants of his pleasure, traced delicate, wet patterns along your skin.

You watched, transfixed, as he brought his slickened finger to your lips, wordlessly offering it to you. Without hesitation, you parted your lips, tasting the tang of his salty essence as you obediently licked his finger clean.

Then, with a teasing spark in his eyes, he spoke arrogantly, his words dripping with playful suggestion. "Now go say hi to Javier for me. He'll get the message."

''Fuck you, Marston.'' As you rose to your feet, defiance burned in your eyes, though a hint of shyness tinged your voice.

''Your wish is my command, madam.'' Before you could fully process his words or reach out to him, he moved with unexpected swiftness, seizing your face in his hands and pulling you into a passionate kiss.

𝘑𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘦𝘳:

You laid on the plush bed, draped in your silky nightgown, the warmth of the crackling fire beside you seeping into your skin.

As you basked in the warmth, Javier's lips began to trail soft, tender kisses along the expanse of your thighs. Each touch sent ripples of pleasure coursing through your body.

The lingering scent of whiskey and cigarettes clung to him, a testament to the indulgence he had partaken in at the hotel bar downstairs earlier that evening.

Despite his intoxication, Javier worshipped your body with a reverence that left you breathless. With every caress, every kiss, he took his time, exploring every inch of your skin as if it were a sacred temple to be cherished. His adoration was palpable, his actions speaking volumes of his devotion to you.

"Déjame probarte, mi amor. Por favor-" With each tender kiss, his drunken need for you intensified, his movements becoming more urgent.

(t: let me taste you, my love, please-)

You chuckled softly as you looked into his eyes, noticing the signs of intoxication lingering in his gaze.

"You're drunk, Javi.." You remarked with a playful smile, gently teasing him as you tried to reason with him. "Maybe we should just go to sleep. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

But he simply shook his head, his determination evident even in his inebriated state. "I'm not drunk," he protested with a lopsided grin, his words slurring slightly as he leaned closer to you. "Solo estoy disfrutando el momento contigo."

(t: I just want to enjoy this moment with you.'')

Despite not understanding a single word, the melodic rhythm of his speech sent shivers down your spine. You couldn't help but admire the way his lips formed each syllable, the passion and intensity in every word.

Lost in the moment, you found yourself running your fingers through his hair, savoring the softness beneath your touch.

''Quiero comerte entera, cariño-''

(t: I want to eat you whole, darling-)

Eventually, unable to contain your curiosity any longer, you gently interrupted him, your voice barely above a whisper. "Javi, can you translate that for me?"

Instead of obliging, he simply chuckled, his eyes glistening with mischief as he leaned in closer to your body.

"Let me show you, instead." He murmured, his voice husky as he spoke.

Finally, unable to resist any longer, he reached for the hem of your nightgown, lifting it slowly until it pooled around your stomach.

''Maybe we shouldn't..'' Your breath caught in your throat as you whispered, the words escaping your lips barely audible.

He just snickered, his laughter a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine, and whatever protest or remark you were going to make died down as the tip of his tongue nudged at your clit.

Your breath hitched in anticipation as you leaned back against the soft pillows, your heart pounding rapidly to the sudden touch. With trembling hands, you eagerly shuffled your legs further apart, offering him better access to your throbbing core.

You felt Javier's face burying itself between your thighs, the rough texture of his skin sending electric pulses of pleasure through your body.

The flat of his tongue started to give little kitten licks up and down your folds, each stroke sending waves of sensation coursing through you, always ending on a tantalizing drag against your sensitive pearl.

"Javi-" A little whimper escaped you, hushed and whining, as you surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure washing over you.

His amber eyes bore into yours as you swore you could feel him smirk against you, his silent amusement adding to the intoxicating mix of sensations.

''Oh god-'' Another chaste kiss to your clit elicited a gasping breath from you, your idle hand tightening its grip in his messy black hair, fingers tangling in the locks as you encouraged him to continue.

You noticed a subtle change in Javier’s movements, a newfound urgency and dedication as he worshipped your body with his mouth.

Your juices began to coat his chin as he held onto your squirming hips, his eagerness showing in the way he practically pulled you down onto his face. With each suck and lick to your clit, he drove you closer to the edge of ecstasy, his ministrations becoming more fervent and desperate.

More keens and moans spilled from your lips as a graze of teeth sent bolts of pleasure through you, the sensation causing you to grind down onto his mouth in a fervour of need.

''Preciosa- fuck-'' There was a humming sound as Javier groaned beneath you, his own arousal taking over as he pleasured you.

A fog of a different kind of intoxication thickened in your mind, clouding your thoughts as you lost yourself in the throes of his lips.

With a certain tilt of your head, you caught sight of Javier jerking off his cock while he continued to devour you, his eyes half-lidded with desire as his tight fist worked up and down his length. The sight of him, slick with pre-cum fluids and swollen with the need to orgasm, only added to your own desperation for release.

The more ferociously he licked your pussy, the harder he stroked himself, his cock leaking slick from that swollen, reddened tip.

Slowly, Javier's middle finger pressed against you, the anticipation causing your breath to hitch in your throat. With a gentle but firm pressure, it slipped inside, encountering little resistance as it delved deeper. Your mouth fell open in a silent gasp of pleasure, your body instinctively arching towards him as he filled you.

As his finger bottomed out inside you, a low moan escaped your lips, the sound muffled by the New pressure. You could feel the heat building between your legs, your arousal pooling at the point where his finger met your core.

Javier could sense the subtle changes in your body, the way your cunt fluttered and pulsed around his finger. He reveled in the feeling of you, the way you squeezed him tight, every ridge inside your plush walls a testament to your desire. With each gentle thrust of his finger, he explored the depths of your pleasure, savoring the intimacy of the moment.

He seemed to understand exactly how your body worked, his touch deliberate and calculated as he curled his finger just barely, sending you closer to your climax with each motion.

With a deft flick of his digit, he found your sweetest spot, and he didn't hesitate to exploit it. The sensation was electric, a symphony of pleasure that left you gasping for air. Again and again, he brushed against that sensitive area, each stroke consuming you whole.

You were on the brink of coming undone, your body thrumming with anticipation as Javier's touch sent ripples of pleasure cascading through you. But just as you felt yourself on the cusp, he abruptly pulled away, leaving you stunned and breathless.

Shock was displayed all over your features as Javier chuckled softly, his amusement evident all over his face.

And then, with a gentle but deliberate movement, Javier closed the distance between you, his eyes locked with yours as his hands roamed over your body.

''You're going to finish with me inside you, amor.''

𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘦𝘴:

As you walked towards the tranquil lake, away from the loud celebration of the gang's successful mission, the ethereal glow of the bright moon above casted a shimmering path across the water. The night air was crisp and cool against your skin, offering a welcome respite from the warmth of the fire.

Finding a secluded spot by the water's edge, you sat down and dipped your fingers into the cool, refreshing liquid, splashing it onto your face and shoulders in an attempt to wash away the remnants of the long day but before you could repeat the gesture, a pair of strong, familiar hands settled on your hips, sending a shiver down your spine.

Giggling, you turned to find Charles standing behind you, his breath heavy with the scent of whiskey. Despite his usual resilience to alcohol, it was clear that tonight's celebration had gotten the better of him. He had accepted Sean's challenge to see who could drink the most, and it seemed he had emerged on the losing end.

''Mhm, Charles-'' A whimper escaped your lips as his lips trailed along your skin with a newfound hunger, his breath hot against your neck.

Even in his inebriated state, Charles remained relatively quiet, his usual reticence undisturbed by the alcohol coursing through his veins.

However, there was a noticeable shift in his demeanor as his breath grew louder and heavier against your skin. With each kiss, his tongue teased and tantalized, promising the emergence of vivid purple marks on your skin in the morning.

A sudden gasp escaped your lips as he stumbled backwards, pulling you along with him. With a surprising agility, he managed to find purchase on a tree log, his body sinking onto it as he settled into a seated position with you straddling his thighs.

''Mm, need you, angel.'' Charles cooed softly, his touch tender as he rested his palm under your jaw. With a deft movement, he brought your face closer to his, his intent clear as he sought to capture the perfect view of your dazed eyes.

''Anything for my man.'' You whispered softly, your voice barely above a breath as you cradled his face in your hands

Wordlessly, you moved with anticipation, your hands trembling slightly as you slid down the waistband of his pants. As you did, you felt the warmth radiating from his clothed cock, the heat passing along your cheeks in a tantalizing wave.

With each inch of fabric you peeled away, the excitement grew even more as the cotton material finally wrapped around his muscular thighs.

A low hiss escaped Charles' lips as the brief contact of cold air brushed against his freed cock, causing it to spring to life with eager anticipation. The sound of it slapping heavily against his bruised stomach filled the air, echoing in the stillness of the night as the voices of your fellow gang members seemed to fade in the distance.

He was huge, his length extending well beyond his navel and the thickness of it easily comparable to your wrist.

With delicate precision, you used your fingertips to guide the hard length of him to your entrance, feeling the anticipation building with each passing moment.

As you started to sink down, the bulbous head of his cock dipped into the flesh of your labia, the pressure forcing the meaty lips to spread for him.

''Oh, my-'' A faltering breath escaped your lips as you sucked it in, a desperate attempt to steady yourself against the overwhelming sensation.

The lack of good preparation made the penetration a slow and deliberate process, each inch of him breaching your body with torturous slowness. Despite it all, the searing burn that accompanied his entry, only made you bask in the intensity of the sensation, your senses consumed by the pleasure of it all.

He breached your body one agonizing fraction at a time, the pressure just giving the right amount of painful as he pushed deeper inside you.

Finally, the glans of his cock popped through the first barrier, a primal moan escaping your lips as you stilled above him. With a newfound determination, you bore down on him again, the unbidden sound of your whimpers like music to his ears.

''You feel so-, so good-''Charles responded with a deep, rumbling noise, the barely coherent words reverberating through the air only to fuel your need to please him even more.

You choked on a disgruntled squawk as he lifted his hips, forcing himself another inch or so inside you. The sudden movement caught you off guard, causing you to sway above him, the tension in your loins doubling and threatening to overwhelm you.

''Mhm-'' Groaning deep in the back of your throat, you haltingly pivoted your hips, up, down, up and down.

Each movement a deliberate effort to loosen your passage and coat him in more arousal. With each motion, you felt the tension in your body ease, the sensation of him sliding against your inner walls igniting a fire within you.

As you started to lower yourself again, just a brief moment later, the penetration came easier, Charles' cock slipping effortlessly against your slickened walls until you were fully seated on his lap. With a heady sigh of pleasure, you tossed your head back, the sensation overwhelming your senses.

Taking advantage of your exposed vulnerability, Charles seized the opportunity to squeeze your breast in a tight grip, his touch sending a jolt of electricity coursing through you.

''Look at you-'' He breathed, his voice heavy with adoration. ''So lovely when you’re enjoying yourself like this.''

Your whole body heaved and lurched at his praise, every single muscle in your shuddering frame locking up as you clamped down on him so hard it physically hurt.

A primal scream tore from your throat, echoing into the night sky as pure, unadulterated bliss rushed in to swarm your senses, completely overriding the faint discomfort of being stretched to the absolute limit.

In response to your climax, Charles groaned, his own pleasure evident as he let you ride out the waves of your ecstasy on his excitedly jumping cock. His hands grasped at your sides, fingers digging into the love handles he found there, holding onto you as if you were a lifeline in the midst of a storm.

Like a wild beast, you clawed at his flesh, your nails leaving red marks in their wake as you desperately sought release. His arms, shoulders, chest, anything you could reach became a canvas for your frenzied need as you bucked and spasmed throughout the throes of your ecstasy.

It was the sporadic squeezing of your cunt that finally milked the orgasm right out of him. You felt him stiffen beneath you, a grunt escaping his tightly clenched teeth as he violently twitched inside your body.

The abrupt pressure on your sweet spot had you seeing stars, your breath hitching as you swayed unsteadily on top of him, both of you lost in the overwhelming intensity of the moment.

It took you a prolonged moment to start coming down from the blinding rush of endorphins, your senses still swimming in the aftermath of ecstasy. Each breath came short and quick, the air feeling heavy against your chest as you struggled to regain your composure.

Your skin was sticky with sweat and it effectively glued you to him, making even the simple act of lifting your head a taxing effort.

As you laid there, basking in the warmth of his embrace, you became aware of Charles gently petting your head, his touch a soothing balm to your frazzled nerves.

His fingers traced delicate patterns through your hair, smoothing down the unruly strands with a tenderness that brought a smile to your lips.

"Should I go thank Sean for this?" You murmured tiredly, the words slipping from your lips in a hazy whisper.

In response, Charles mumbled softly, his voice laced with warmth and affection, "Mhm, funny if you think that I'm gonna let you go anytime soon." The words were spoken with a hint of playfulness, the alcohol clearly waking him up instead of the opposite.

[pinep-ne]

them and gender expression or whatever

[queenie-ofthe-void]

Part 1

Eddie’s propped up against the door in the backseat, warm breath fogging the window, eyes open but completely sightless. Nancy wonders what’s going through his head, if he’s figured out why Steve’s upset and Robin’s angry enough to pick a fight. 

She doesn’t think he knows that Steve’s bisexual. Clearly Robin’s constant meddling hasn’t spurred his confessions. At the very least, Eddie has to be confused about how abruptly Steve reacted. Nancy could see the helpless anguish in Eddie’s face as he watched tears shimmer in Steve’s eyes. 

The sight of a heartbroken Steve Harrington is awful to bear. It isn’t something she’d wish on anyone, let alone someone as amazing as Eddie. Now it’s just another shitty thing she and Eddie have in common, like surviving the apocalypse or having curly hair. 

She shifts her eyes sideways and finds Argyle slightly more relaxed than Eddie but still unusually quiet. It could be the high, she supposes. But she’s seen him smoke almost twice as much as he had tonight and be completely fine. She doesn’t even know him that well and the silence is still unsettling. 

They’re about five minutes into the drive when Argyle’s eyes flash to the rearview mirror. “So, Eddie, I didn’t know you and Johnny were a thing.”

“We aren’t,” Eddie startles, almost like in his brooding he forgot where he was. Nancy catches him shifting in his seat. He’s clearly uncomfortable, biting his lip as his eyes skirt back and forth between his lap and Argyle’s in the mirror.

“Sure looked like you two were pretty into each other,” Argyle says. His tone is an honest attempt at light and carefree. It lacks the signature Argyle vibrancy. 

Eddie catches her looking in the rearview mirror, faster than Nancy can avert her gaze. He huffs, nostrils flared, though his eyes are wide with anxiety. “It’s not like that,” he tries to argue back. 

Argyle scoffs. “Seemed like Johnny thought it was.”

“Well it wasn’t.”

The boys almost simultaneously cross their arms and slump back into their seats. It’s quiet until they pull up to Argyle’s new apartment. Once out of the car, he leans back inside. Big brown eyes downcast, his hair hangs loose around his face, shielding him from view of the backseat. Nancy can practically see his heart on his sleeve when he looks at her.

“Nance, let me know how he’s doing?” The question is vague enough that he could mean any of them, but Argyle’s heart is four sizes bigger than anyone she’s met. Of course he’d care about Steve even now that he’s got his own problems.

She smiles, small and sad but hopefully reassuring. “It’s a deal.” He taps the roof of the car, moving to close the door before she surprises herself by calling out to him again. “But if you need anything, you know, maybe someone to talk to–” she hesitates, scrambling for the right words. “It’s just– I know Jonathan better than anyone, other than you, obviously. So if you want to talk, you can always call me.”

Now more than ever Nancy cringes at how socially out-of-place she always feels. It sounds like she’s placing some sort of weird claim on Jonathan, implying that he’s still somehow, inarguably hers after all this time. Even after Robin. 

She quickly gathers her wits to explain herself, wishing she could just shove her tiny foot in her mouth when he cuts through her anxiety with a smile. It matches hers from only moments ago: small, sad, but hopeful. “Sounds like a deal, Big Wheels.”

Nancy chuckles at the new nickname, pulling a more genuine smile out of the both of them. She watches as steps inside before pulling out of the lot and back onto the road toward the trailer park.

Argyle’s absence somehow only makes the tension worse. Eddie stays sitting in the back, slumped forward enough that Nancy worries he’s not actually buckled in. His head is in his hands, face hidden away. 

Her and Eddie have grown close since the final battle with Vecna, just barely making it to the hospital in time to stop him from bleeding out. Nancy, Robin, Steve, and Dustin had sat by his bedside in shifts almost every day for two weeks until he finally woke up. She’d driven him to his appointments, helped him with errands, and made an easy, detailed schedule for his medications.

They’d sat around watching shitty TV reruns. She’d smoked her first joint with him, just two of them sprawled out on the couch talking about all the shit they’d been through. Except every single time, no matter how their conversations started, they always ended with Robin and Steve. 

What started as delicate conversations turned into late night confessions. Eddie was the first person she turned to when she started questioning herself. Nancy knows she was the only person he’d told about his crush on Steve. He’d made her promise not to tell anyone– especially Robin, obviously– and she’d agreed to take it to the grave. She’s fairly sure Robin made a similar promise to Steve. Though, that didn’t stop them from constantly encouraging the boys to just talk to each other.

After what happened today, it’s painfully obvious that Steve likes Eddie just as much as Eddie likes him. Robin’s reaction to everything almost outright confirms it without Steve even having to say anything. At least, it’s obvious to most people.

“I don’t see what the big deal is– why anyone even cares.” Eddie’s words are barely discernible, mumbling into his own hands pressed against his face. He runs his hands roughly through his hair as he leans back against the seat, looking at Nancy through the mirror with wild, angry eyes. 

“I maybe get why you would be upset,” Eddie continues his rant, gesturing at her. His voice begins to rise with frustration, his movements a bit erratic– ‘worked up’ as how Wayne puts it. “You’re with Robin now, and I know you don’t feel that way about Jonathan anymore. But… It just doesn’t make sense.” 

He’s pulling at his curls, and she wants to wrap her hands in his to get him to stop. “Robin’s never been mad at anyone before, and she looked like she was trying not to hit me. She wouldn’t even let me talk to Steve, which is bullshit considering I spend just as much time with him as she does, spend just as many nights there as her. I deserve to know why he’s upset!”

She stays quiet, knowing she’ll get her moment when he runs out of fuel. He always does eventually, it’s just a matter of patience– something she’s grown a lot better at between being best friends with Eddie and dating Robin.

He slumps down into the seat, strings cut. Eddie fails to stop a stray tear from breaking loose as he tips his head back. She sighs as they finally pull up to the trailer, throwing the car in park before she fully turns around to face him. When he refuses to meet her gaze, Nancy sighs again, loud and obnoxious to get his attention. 

She puts a steadying hand on his knee and heaves herself over the center counsel, pushing herself clumsily into the back seat. Eddie yelps in surprise when her knee hits something soft, but they eventually sort themselves out. They turn to face each other, legs tangled up in the middle.

“Nance,” Eddie sighs, his quiet voice tinged with sadness, “why do I feel so shitty about a stupid kiss?”

She reaches across the seats to grab his hand, gently running her thumb across the top of his knuckles. “Do you like Jonathan?”

“Of course I do. What’s not to like?” He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself it’s true, eyes scrunched and brow furrowed. She shoots him a scrutinizing glare, and he rolls his eyes in response. “Jesus Christ, Nancy, just say whatever you want to say. You look like you’re trying to kill me with your brain.”

“No, El kills people with her brain. I shoot guns.”

He chuckles nervously, trying to pull his hand away, but she grips it tighter.

She sighs and asks him again, with pointed emphasis. “Do you like like him, though?”

“Do I like like him?” Eddie mimics her, his teasing laugh strained with sarcasm. “Never thought I’d see the day where Nancy Wheeler– my actual fucking best friend, despite the odds– holds my hand and asks if I like like her ex.”

“Which ex?” Nancy shoots back, quick as a whip.

“... What?”

“Jonathan or Steve?”

“What–” Eddie tries to pull away again, and this time she lets him– “I thought we were talking about Jon?”

Nancy hums in thought. “Are we? Is this about your feelings for Jonathan?”

Before Nancy can stop him, he scoffs and throws himself out of the car. She scrambles across the seat and follows him out. His legs may be longer, but even after almost a full recovery, she’s still faster on her feet. Nancy catches him by the wrist just as he jams his key into the front door.

“Eddie, stop acting like a child and talk to me,” Nancy says. “Don’t storm off and pretend like we both don’t know why you’re upset.”

“It was just a kiss!” He rounds on her with red fury in his cheeks, tears clinging to his lashline. “It was just a stupid, fun kiss. I shouldn’t have to feel this way because someone kissed me at a party and I kissed them back. I don’t see why it’s a big deal, it’s not like it matters.”

“Seems like it mattered to Steve.” It’s about as close as she can hint without getting into trouble with Robin. Nancy knows Steve’s still playing his cards close to his chest, but she also knows sometimes it’s best to just go all in. 

Air rushes out of Eddie’s lungs, breath punched out of him as Nancy hits her proverbial target. Although she does wish she could actually punch him sometimes. Which is why it almost feels like a small triumph when she watches the poorly-obscured implication settle over him. 

Another tear breaks from its hold. He uses the back of his sleeve to wipe his face and drag it across his sniffling nose. Absolutely disgusting, but she doesn’t say anything, even though she desperately wants to offer him a tissue from her car.

“He was just upset because of the–”

“‘The shitty weed?’” Nancy finishes for him, quoting Robin’s awful excuse from earlier. “Do you mean Argyle’s personal stash?” It’s the best marijuana Nancy’s ever smoked, although that only includes Eddie’s wrinkled joints he re-discovers in random pockets and bags.

When Eddie opens his mouth, she’s already one step ahead of his ridiculous arguments. “And don’t you dare say he was upset because he’s homophobic.”

She hears the click of his teeth for how hard his jaw snaps closed. Nancy slips her hand down from his wrist and slides her fingers between his. This time when she squeezes, he squeezes back.

“He’s straight, Nance. You should know that better than anyone.” He sniffles and– to her horror– doesn’t let go of her hand when he uses the same arm to wipe his face again. God, men are animals. At least she’s never had to watch Robin pick her nose, even though the way she flosses is pretty graphic.

She sighs, throwing her arms around him in a hug, if not to get away from his snotty hands. “Seemed pretty upset for a straight best friend.” Nancy kisses him on the cheek before pulling away, making her way back down the stairs toward her car. “But you’re right, I would know better than anyone how Steve could feel right now.”

Driving home, she hopes her message landed, that maybe she’s helped and not overstepped. Especially when it comes to Steve. She can’t bear to see him heartbroken again, up close and personal in a way she selfishly distanced herself from last time. 

But she thinks, unlike the last time, Steve has a chance to be truly happy with someone who loves him more than anything in the world. The chance to be with someone who wants to take care of him, and be doted on in return. She’s finally found that in Robin, and she damn well knows Eddie’s the one for Steve. So if it means she toed the line on saying too much, then it’ll all be worth it if it’s the nudge Eddie needs to find his courage.

~~~

I always upload to Tumblr first but follow on ao3 if you prefer

Part 3

Tag List: (lmk if you'd like to be added/removed!)

@carolperkinsexgirlfriend <3

@dreamy-jeans137 @yesdangerpls @estrellami-1 @gloomysoup @eternal-sunflowers

@samcoxramblings @shoujo-wizard @vampirexlover13 @stripey82  @the-fatal-lozenge

@kimsnooks @what-is-life-but-an-empty-void @theohohmoment @stedestielfrattficlover @gloomdivision

@sharingisntkaren @live-laugh-love-dietrich @thewickedkat @mugloversonly @glittergluekintsugi

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@allyricas @devondespresso @me-ig7 @unorphaned-in-our-northern-lghts @scoops-aboy86

[st4rcz4r]

The unbeaten, and dare I say unbeatable, Lone Wolf.

[quizzyy]

dutch one is about john of course... ❤️

[arthursfuckinghat]

I know I've shown it before but I can't stop looking at this picture and smiling to myself without thinking about the fact that Charles taught Arthur how to use a bow.

And not just any bow - Charles' own bow. Even with the rough circumstances they were in at the time, Charles was still patient enough to teach Arthur how to use the bow efficiently. He didn't make fun of Arthur's skill level, he didn't criticize him, he didn't shout or yell at him afterwards, Charles simply guided Arthur and let him learn at his own pace.

If you shoot the deer but it doesn't die? He still helps you. If you miss completely? He still helps you and encourages you to try again. If you need to track down the deer again? He will still help you. He will still help Arthur. This wasn’t just a lesson in hunting; it was a moment of trust and respect.

Charles knew that Arthur was perfectly capable with a gun, but he still taught him an incredibly valuable life skill that day - a skill Arthur eventually honed.

[nay-lon]

infiltrating a fancy party with fancy clothes

[kaolant]

“I was a girl until your call”

[filmjunky-99]

s t a r t r e k t h e n e x t g e n e r a t i o n created by gene roddenberry Commander Sela of Romulus [redemption, part ii, s5ep1]

'We should not discount Jean Luc Picard yet. He is human, and humans have a way of showing up when you least expect them.' - sela

[misthiosss]

The Aftermath of Genesis

[sketchupnfries]

A Hunting We Will Go Part05

The following morning isn't looking too great for everyone involved.

[starlight-and-whiskey]

Under Your Skin: Ch2

Prologue Ch1 Ao3

Never meaning to, you end up pregnant with Arthur Morgan's child. One child leads to a happiness you never thought you'd find, which in turn leads to a family Arthur never thought he deserved. Tags: @baizzhu, @chonkercatto, @heron-feathers, @not-minho, @multi-fandom3, @warmsideofthepillow03, @photo1030

When the two of you finally made your way back to camp, the first thing to hit you was the deafening quiet of it all.

Normally by this time in the evening, camp would be bustling. Everyone settling in for the evening to play cards or to drink by the fire, their chores finally done for the day. Instead, a low hush had fallen, accompanied by a slow turn of heads, a question held with bated breath.

Word had certainly travelled fast.

Under the weight of thick silence, Hosea made his way over slowly, pausing in front of Arthur.

"Son?" He asked quietly, a weathered hand laying gently on his arm.

With a metered breath, Arthur glanced to you then back to the older man, a gentle smile slowly tugging at his lips.

"I'm gonna be a father”, Arthur said softly through a lopsided smile.

Almost instantaneously, a warm, broad grin broke out on Hosea's face as he clasped Arthur's hand in a hearty shake, clapping a firm hand to his shoulder. 

"You sure are, my boy!"

A collective soft exhale rippled through the camp, the tension releasing in a smattering of warm, giddy smiles. Amongst dramatic cheers and barking laughs, broad hands clapped Arthur hard on the back, hands gave his shoulders a firm shake.

Arthur ducked his head with a sheepish grin, shoulders hunching and cheeks flushing under the sudden wave of attention.

“Ah, get off o’ me,” he bit out through a hearty chuckle and a grin wider than you'd seen in weeks, shoving away an overzealous Sean who seemed intent on attempting to half cuddle the man. Blue eyes bashfully flicked away from the gaggle of brutish men and found yours. Soft. Gentle. Proud. 

You didn’t notice Abigail at first as she sidled up beside you, not until her voice came soft against the whooping and hollering.

“This mean I’m forgiven?”

You turned, startled to find her standing close, her eyes glassy and her bottom lip caught cautiously between her teeth.

With tears welling in your eyes at the damn relief of it all, you instinctively reached for her, pulling her into a tight hug. “I’m sorry,” you whispered into her hair.

“It’s forgotten,” she murmured back, gripping you tightly.

When she finally pulled away, Abigail kept on hand on your arm, the other reaching up to brush falling tears away with gentle fingers.

“Hey,” she whispered through a broad grin, the apples of her cheeks rounding with glee. “You’re gonna have a baby.”

A sharp, disbelieving laugh burst from your lungs as you nodded quickly, sniffling hard to hold back the remaining tirade of tears that threatened to spill over. A trembling hand glanced over your belly, and you drew a shaking breath before looking back at her with a watery smile.  

"I’m gonna have a baby,” you repeated, smiling back at her and finally feeling the weight of those words.

Abigail laughed with you, pulling you back into a hug as the noise of celebration grew around you.

"Hey, quit hoggin' her!" Karen half yelled with a beaming grin, wrapping her arms around you as soon as Abigail let go.

"Now what in God’s name are you all just standing ‘round here for?" Dutch’s voice came booming across camp like a whip crack, stilling the revelry in an instant. Your body tensed. Arthur’s mouth went dry. For a moment, the years fell away, and Arthur felt like he was fourteen years old again, standing before a disapproving father. Heads turned and the camp held its breath as those steely eyes swept across the group, jaw set tight. Slowly, theatrically, a broad grin broke out on Dutch’s face as he opened his arms like a preacher at a pulpit. “This calls for a celebration!”, he bellowed, pointing a ringed finger. “Mr Pearson, don’t just stand there! Go and fetch some more whiskey!”

Smiles returned and a low whoop emanated from Sean, who made himself busy assisting Pearson in dragging crates from the wagon, never one to miss a good party.

“Mr Escuella!”, Dutch continued, waving at the newest recruit, “Reckon it’s time you put that guitar of yours to good use!”

Cheers erupted anew, laughter returning like it had been waiting just beneath the surface, only needing permission to come roaring back to life. The tension that had gripped your spine finally began to loosen its hold under the renewed laughter and cheers, the chinking of bottles and soft notes of music from a land you didn’t know melting away some of the fear you’d secreted away, sparking a ripple of relief through your limbs. The evening passed slowly in a flurry of congratulations – a hug from Hosea, Karen musing names, Mary-Beth hoping for a girl. One by one, the stars blinked open above it all, the moon casting its silvery glow against the inky black of a still, cloudless night.

“There’s the proud mama,” Dutch said with a broad smile, arms already open. Almost tenderly, he wrapped you in a tight embrace, squeezing once before easing back, a hand on your shoulder. “Congratulations, sweetheart.”

You blinked up at him, your voice quieter than you expected. “So… you ain’t mad?”

Dutch’s brow furrowed, then he laughed - really laughed - his whole face creasing at the corners.

“Mad?” he scoffed, as if the very idea offended him. “Why in God’s name would I be mad?”

You glanced down, half-smiling. “Another mouth to feed, y’know. What with everything we’re already up against…”

Dutch waved a hand through the air like he was swatting off the thought itself.

“You look at what we’ve built here,” he said wistfully, the firelight casting gold across his features as he cast an upturned palm around the camp. You followed the gesture, eyes landing on grinning faces. You saw Abigail cradling her baby boy, heard the warbling singing of Uncle, watched Grimshaw reluctantly dancing with Pearson as Strauss watched from the side-lines with a tight-lipped smile. “A family.”

Dutch dropped his gaze, splaying a hand over your flat stomach. “And that little one, they are only ever gonna know the taste of being free. Just like little Jack,” he grinned, like a prophet intent on leading this band of outcasts to salvation. “You let me worry about the mouths to feed.”

*

The night wore on until the fire had worn down and your cheeks ached from smiling. The laughter had quietened now, melting into low murmurs around smouldering embers, the chink of another empty bottle being tossed aside giving way to the occasional drunken slur of a half-remembered song. Bones aching, but chest light, you wandered to the edge of camp, seeking a moment of solitary peace. A few seconds just to think, to breathe. The stillness was short lived when you heard the muted murmur of Arthur’s voice behind Dutch’s tent. You hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, truly you hadn’t, but the low and steady cadence of whispered words made your ears prick.

“Never thought I’d be a father once, let alone twice,” Arthur said softly.

Twice? Arthur had never mentioned another child…

“Second chances are a wonderous thing”, came Dutch’s voice.

There was a pause - a gentle shifting of boots on dirt, the creak of leather.

“What if… Dutch, what if I screw it up again?”

Why hadn’t he mentioned another child?

You held your breath, listening more intently now despite the guilt at prying, your interest piqued.

“You won’t”, Dutch said firmly, followed by a soft sigh, his voice lowering. “Son, you didn’t.”

“I don’t think I could take that again. That... that kinda pain.”

“It ain't gonna be like before. They'll be with us. They'll be safe.”

There was a long silence for a moment, broken by a confession carried on a trembling whisper.

"Damnit... I’m just... Hell, Dutch…”, Arthur said. “I’m scared.”

You felt your heart crack right down the centre.

"Look at me son. You look at me and you listen good,” Dutch continued. “Everything is gonna be just fine."

You’d never known Arthur scared. Not really. Concerned, maybe. Angry, definitely.

Turned in on himself in sullen silence, or biting out sarcastic barbs through a lopsided smile when things went south. You’d known him wounded, bruised and bleeding and too proud to ask for help. But scared?

No. Never that. You weren’t sure there was anything on this earth that could scare Arthur. There was nothing that could take this man – so steady, unshakeable, dependable – and strip him down to his marrow.

Deep down you knew that was foolish, of course. All men got scared.

*

It must have been well past midnight when you heard the scrape of boots outside Arthur’s tent. You’d sat there, hunched on the edge of his cot for hours, just waiting. Thinking. You’d meant to go back to your tent, but your feet had moved unbidden until you were stood by his bed, surrounded by his meagre belongings – a photograph of his mother, a blooming flower in a glass jar, a shaving mirror with a crack in the corner and a piece missing.

The tent flap rustled, the broad frame of Arthur ducking inside, rubbing at tired eyes. He blinked at you in surprise, pausing for a second before closing the flap behind him, closing out the night.

“Thought you’d gone to bed,” he said softly, reading your face the way he read storm clouds and stars. “Something wrong?”

“I heard you,” you whispered through a thick throat. “You and Dutch. I didn’t mean to. I just…”

Arthur stood in the stillness. You could feel him thinking. He took a few slow steps forward, then eased himself down beside you on the cot, exhaling hard like something had come loose in his ribs. You turned your face just enough to see him in profile, and the weight behind his eyes was staggering.

“I shouldn’t have listened”, you stumbled, looking down at your hands. “I’m sorry.”

Arthur shook his head slowly, pushing out a long, steady breath. “No… no, it’s alright.”

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. The words sat heavy on his tongue, sticking behind his teeth.

“I had a son,” Arthur nodded almost imperceptibly, glancing up at you with glossy eyes.

“You never said.”

“Ain’t much to say”, he shrugged. “He died. Long time ago.”

You sat in silence, hands clasped in your lap and eyes tracing Arthur’s worn features as he told you of a little boy, unplanned but loved. He told you of a girl, all of nineteen years old, who never asked him for a dime, never asked him to stay. He told you of visits he had with them, a few snatched days here and there where he would play with Isaac, and help Eliza fix that hole in the chicken coop. Your heart ached as he told you about that fateful afternoon, when he’d ridden up that well worn path and found only two small wooden crosses. A robbery gone wrong. A few measly dollars and a loaded gun. And just like that, in an instant, Arthur’s world had crumbled beneath him.

You stayed quiet, letting him talk. Letting him bleed out at his own pace.

“I never told nobody”, he murmured, scrubbing a broad palm roughly down his face. “Not really. Dutch knows. Hosea. I guess folk know, but...”

Silence fell, thick and heavy, as he trailed off. You reached for him then, slowly placing your hand over his. He glanced up at you again, a sad smile twitching at the corner of his lips before he turned his palm up, threading your fingers together with a squeeze and tapping your hand lightly against his thigh.

“I’m sorry”, you said softly.

He sniffed thickly, thumbing under his nose with a low, uneasy chuckle and a steady nod. “It was a long time ago.”

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you blinked at the rough hand clasping yours, tongue flicking out to graze your bottom lip, your own secrets bubbling between your ribs. Your free hand moved to gently cradle where a bump would soon form, carrying the precious cargo of Arthur's redemption. 

“I had a husband”, you said quietly against the still night air, eyes tracing the long shadows cast by a flickering oil lamp. A secret for a secret.

Arthur cocked an eyebrow, eyes meeting yours. “You never said”

“Ain’t much to say”, you echoed through a puff of breath that might have been a chuckle had the air not felt so solemn. “Nasty son of a bitch. A drunk. I never wanted to marry him, not really. But… you know how things are.”

Arthur nodded, squeezed your hand again.

“Used to beat me something awful when he got in those moods of his. Then this one night, he comes home. Drunk. Angry. Lost his money at cards as usual. And he makes to raise a hand to me. And… and I realised I weren’t takin’ that no more.”

The cogs in Arthur’s mind started turning, thinking back to that night Hosea had brought you into camp all those years. Brought you home. A defiant, wiry thing – all rough around the edges and so damn untrusting of any shred of kindness. Clothes torn and patched, hollow cheeked and nailbeds packed with mud. On the run, Hosea had said. Wanted for murder. It was never spoken of again after those first few days of curious mumblings, it was a question that never needed to be asked. You were an outlaw now, and you were one of them. The details were of no importance to a band of killers and thieves.

“So you killed him”, Arthur stated softly.

Biting your bottom lip, you nodded, letting your teeth scrape back over the soft, plump skin.

“So I killed him.”

When Arthur released your fingers, you searched his face for any trace of disgust or shame but found none. He simply looked at you with that steady gaze of his and looped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him. “Good.”

Laying your head against his broad shoulder, you felt a soft press of lips against your hair and the steady trace of calloused fingertips trailing patterns on your arm, the metered rise and fall of his breath. As minutes passed in silence, you tried to bite back the yawn that threatened to no avail, and pressed the back of your wrist to your lips.

“Ought’a get some rest”, Arthur murmured.

“Mm”, you hummed. “Yeah. I should get back.”

Arthur’s arm around you didn’t loosen. “You could stay here?”

He caught the quizzical look in your eyes and shrugged. “Wouldn’t exactly be the first time now, would it? Only wouldn’t have to sneak out at dawn this time.”

“Folk’ll…”

“What? Talk?” He chuckled. “Darlin’, you’re carrying my kid. Don’t reckon they’d much care no more.”

You huffed a laugh, suddenly realising how silly the notion of wagging tongues seemed. And besides, the prospect of spending a night wrapped in the warmth of Arthur’s steady arms seemed too good to pass up. You’d missed the weight of him beside you, the puff of his breath against the nape of your neck as a solid bare chest pressed against your spine. So, gladly, you toed off you boots and settled down on the cot, shuffling to make room for his hulking frame.

Arthur sighed softly as he laid down beside you and readjusted his grip, a hand brushing down your side to nestle in the divot of your waist. “Missed you bein’ here”, he said quietly. You hummed contently and let him brush back your hair.

“Are we out of our minds?”, you whispered against the dark

“What?”, he rumbled, the whiskers on his chin scratching lightly against your forehead.

“Doin’ this. Having a kid.”

“Probably,” he chuckled. “Don’t see as we got much choice about it, though.” A steady sigh feathered your hairline. “Just glad you ain’t mad at me no more.”

“I wasn’t mad at you.”

“Mm.”

“Just reckoned you wouldn’t want me no more.”

A calloused hand reached up through the dark, cupping your cheek.

“Baby or not”, he whispered, “Reckon I’d-a loved you either way.”

You froze, blinking at a man who had just confessed something before realising he was going to say it. Wide eyes searched the shadows of his face, an arched palm against his chest felt the steady thrumming of his heartbeat.

“You… you love me?”

Arthur gave a small shrug, barely noticeable, his voice low and rumbling. “That alright?”

You opened your mouth, closed it again, tongue wetting your bottom lip before glancing back at him with wet eyes and a hint of a tight-lipped smile tugging at the corners of your lips. 

You nodded. 

He closed the distance between you, taking your chin between thumb and forefinger and tilting your face towards his.

"I love you", he drawled roughly, slowly, like a secret passed in the dark. 

[pinep-ne]

If one more person misconstrues Arthur's journal entry about how he should have married Abigail as genuine romantic attraction I will actually lose it. OBVIOUSLY IT WAS TO SUPPORT HER AND JACK AND FILL THE ROLE JOHN RAN FROM!!! Marriage for the sake of convenience and support is nothing new folks. It was not lust nor love. I personally don't even think Arthur had anything with Abigail at any point. They were just two troubled souls that had leant on each other in a desperate situation. Y'all are stirring a hollow pot talking about how John would've felt reading that entry. He probably didn't even give a damn because he knew well Arthur's insistence on giving Abby and her boy at least some semblance of stability.

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