#I did NOT wanna draw arthur

[southern-sighthound]

these people make me sick

[zukkacore]

Second Place episode of Gamechanger feat the Aguefort staff aka Aguefort heaven is Porter hell. It’s a very efficient system

Bonus:

[zecoritheweirdone]

hey do you guys wanna see a comic for a msa au me and my friend ascel came up with? trick question yes you do. anyway- hehehehehhhoo body swap au <3.

okay quick context for this rq- this is an au where it diverges after freaking out- instead of possessing the truck, lewis ends up chasing the gang for a while, maybe a week or two? arthur and vivi don't know why this random ghost they met ages ago keeps going after them, but one things for sure- he really, really wants arthur's head on a spike.

cut to the present- arthur got separated from vivi and mystery, and lewis ends up chasing him into the woods!

[storytellering]

Look at me when I'm talking to you, son.

[eyes-of-nine]

truly what a guy

[bluuscreen]

dark and stormy knight

[kairennart]

assassin

for @merlinbingo prompt #2E294E

[opens-up-4-nobody]

Every so often the BBC merlin brainworms re-emerge and I am consumed with visions of sweet and painful magic reveal AUs

[ego-meliorem-esse]

I have drawn so much baby Matt and Al recently god damn...

Is it a baby fever of do am I just fascinated by the different experiences of these two brothers. Who knows. Anyway,

For Alfred, I headcanon Arthur to have been very hands on in regard to raising his son. Very present but also very much teaching him how to be self reliant and, for the lack of better wording, independent. As a child, Alfred was wery inquisitive and curious. Arthur encouraged that, be it consciously or subconsiously. Arthur would play a huge role in Alfreds development; even when sickness struck young Alfred, Arthur was the one taking charge and staying up with him, making sure his son gets better. During the worst times, Arthur even dismissed all maids and even his sons governess out of frustration. Bc who could ever take better care of his own son than he himself. I have a habit of writing that Arthur does not consider himself a good man, but I do think he is a good father. At least to his firstborn.

This is a sort of continuation of the ask about Arthurs full on menty breaky after the constant infant death Alfred endured in his earliest days (If I find the ask I'll link it). I just wanted Arthur tired and beaten down finding peace in sleep. While at the same time, while he sleeps, Alfreds fever drops.

Matt didn't get the same parenting from François. Arthur may be a good father, but I don't think François was. At least not affectionate enough. He did buy his son presents and even made sure he got the best education. However, was that something he did for Matt or was he expected to do that as a pompous aristocrat? Even when sick, Matthew didn't make much noise. He only let people know how bad it was when he was truly ill and crossing the border of life and death. Though, the person holding Matt and making sure he survived was his governess, Marie. François would stay up and would sent for the doctors, but it was Marie who understood what Matthew needed and wanted at any given moment. She stayed with him for almost 40 years but, due to nations having a much longer childhood, died without being remembered by the boy she cared for and loved so very much.

The person who cared most for Matthew is a person he does not remember.

(I wanna elaborate on Marie some more I love her and she deserves it lol)

Anyway, sorry for the baby spamming I promise to go back to drawing slutty middle aged men in war scenarios ASAP

[2uselemon]

i give you all a single drawing i did at work yesterday cuz im still trying to streamline how i draw arthur

i also wanna give john a big giant crazy monster form at some point ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[clarkeyhill]

Borders| George Clarke

(Final Part)

Smut (HEAVY!) | Fluff

-

Thanks? Is that it? Like you weren't just lost for words at my presence in front of you, okay George. You shake your head, as you scoff. You leave the studio and meet Chris at the door "you ready to go?" He asks "more than fucking ready" you huff "woah woah, attitude?" He's taken aback "why did you ask me here Chris? Why did you ask me to do this? To prove a point? To win?" You stand in your tracks "no! What are you talking about?" His face drops, oblivious of why you were reacting the way you were "I'll get my own ride home, bye" you turn on your heels, why did George going on that date bug you so much when you knew you couldn't engage with him? You slip your AirPods in your ear as you make your way for the tube, shaking the situation out of your head as your volume is up to full.

The London lights start to glisten as the night draws in, you arrive back at the flat. Chris and Arthur sat on the sofa, you walk to your bedroom immediately. Slamming the door behind you as you slump yourself in the chair. Scrolling through your phone, Chris knocks on your door "what's wrong with you?" He says closing the door behind him "nothing I'm fine, I'm tired" you say "that's not tired that's pure jealous frustration, don't act like I don't know" he says raising a brow "it's not, you just made me look like an idiot infront of everyone, thanks now leave me alone" you say opening your phone "hey! No I didn't" he defends "yes you fucking did! You told George not to pick me and he didn't, you had this all planned and it's a joke, don't air the footage because I've removed my consent to be apart of it" you say "y/n no! You don't get to do this because you didn't get your way" he folds his arms "whatever Chris, just get out" you turn away to face away from him as he huffs, leaving the room.

Hours go past and it reaches 9pm, George wasn't home either. You couldn't help but think what he was doing, if the date went well and they're doing what you've wanted to do since you got here. You stare at your ceiling, when your phone lights up.

George: Be at the Berkeley in 30 minutes.

You: Why?

George: just be there okay?

You huff, the Berkeley? A hotel? We literally share a flat what do you need me to meet you at a hotel for, you question. But yet, you went. Grabbing your keys you throw on the clothes you went out in as you leave the flat. You call an Uber and make your way to the hotel. You were confused to say the least. You get out the Uber and George isn't there, where is he.

You: where are you?

George: room 203

You: room???

You're even more confused, why has he got a hotel room? You shake your head, making your way up the lift to the hotel room. You knock on the door, as George opens it to reveal him just in shorts "hey" he says as he smiles "why do you have a hotel room?" You say stepping in "I sent her home" he replies "ew George I don't wanna be here if you've done the-" you're cut off by George's lips smashing against yours, you don't fight it instead you reply in a desperate matter, the kisses becoming sloppy each time, he pulls away "she was never here, I took her for a coffee and said I didn't feel connected to her, Chris booked this in advance and it was better not to go to waste" he says in a pant "but George" you say confused "she wasn't you y/n, you drive me fucking insane, I could hardly keep it together when you walked out, my mind wandered, then Chris said I couldn't pick you, so I didn't" he said cupping your cheek "I'm sorry for the blunt text, I didn't want to give it away, this was my plan all along even if you weren't on the shoot" he admits, you don't know how to respond. Instead you let your actions do that for you.

You grab him by the shirt pulling him into you, your tongues collide as the kiss becomes more passionate, the brush of George's teeth on your lip felt like ecstasy. You spin him and push him onto the bed as you straddle his lap "show me how much I drive you insane, playboy" you tease, slipping your tee over your head. Revealing the blue set he picked out, he bites his lip as his hands trail up your curves, taking in the view like a golden ticket, he trails his hands up to the clasp of your bra, unhooking it with one hand in ease. Letting your breasts spill out "you're so fucking hot" his voice raspy as you lean down to his neck, placing kissing onto it as his hands grip your waist, you feel him becoming harder beneath you; signalling his urgency. He flips you round so you're now beneath him, your breath hitches as his broad body hover over you "you don't know how long I've waited for this" he mutters as you bite your lip "good things come to those who wait, remember?" You tease as he slips his fingers into the seam of your trousers, sliding them down to reveal the matching thong to your bra "blue looks amazing on you by the way" he smirks as his eyes take in the view "fuck me george" you plea, his eyes darken lust washes over him as he lowers his shorts and boxers , revealing the tent underneath them he starts pumping himself into his hand you you bite your lip, his finger slips to your core; circling it as you bury your head into duvet, crumbling under his touch he teases your entrance with his tip, motioning up and down "p-please" you beg "good things come to those who wait, darling" he teases, using your words against you only made you want it more. He gives in and thrusts into you sending your head jolting back "holy fuck!" You exclaim as he grips your legs "you feel so good" he praises, sending you into overdrive he cups on of your breasts, circling your nipple as he continues. You feel yourself letting go underneath him "fuck George faster!" You plea, urgency rushes over you knowing you were close to your climax, he picks up the pace, becoming more sloppier over time "oh god, George!" You whine as you reach your max, his face lights up with pure satisfaction as he pulls out, looking at you with desire. You take a second to catch your breath before you tell him to lay down. He nods as he positions himself on the bed, you throw your leg over him as you slide him inside you, your hips swaying as you ride him. His grip becomes tight on your waist as he holds you in place, his head perched back as you bounce "you're so fucking pretty" he praises once again as you hire your lip, you can't lie you could get used to this appraisal. With every bounce you feel George twinge as his nails dig deeper into your waist "ah fuck!" He groans as he reaches his max, you both pant as you get off him. Slumping next to him.

"That was fucking amazing" he pants "you can say that again" you giggle as you move up to lean on his chest "now I'm glad we broke the rules" he says looking up at you "me too, but we need to tell Chris" you admit.

"Oh he knows" George says "what?" You say confused "this was all a ploy we had, he was gonna invite you, make me say yes then send me with someone else and then send you here" he says "what the fuck" you add "guess you could say, it was for a good cause and he did a good fucking job of it" George chuckles as you do too, burying your head into his chest.

You were glad you crossed the borders. Because he was right on it.

-

🫶🏻

[likesdoodling]

You ever look at a fandom and think 'I wish there was more content-'?

Well, I remembered Merlin existed in the last month or so,

(watched it like four- five years ago, but I kinda wanna rewatch it now)

And so I went ahead and checked out the fanart and stuff, and I want more fanart of Merlin and Arthur. So I did some. To start with I was planning on learning how to draw Colin Morgan and Bradley James, then stylizing from there but like....

Most characters you can recognise from the hair and outfit anyway.

SO I did them in..

CHIBI STYLE

Because...?

I can.

>:D

HEH

[kirbybecomesastarwarrior]

10. What's an AU that would be interesting to explore with your OC?

Needless I went off the rails with this one! LMAO

This became an excuse to draw Celarthur/Merthur content in different scenarios & and outfits. And I had too much fun with the designs of each one.

Sun King & Moon Queen AU:

Basically, I was watching Lego Monkey Kid and this happened! I really wanted to do something that really got the essence of the show. If you watch the show you can really tell I kinda (or a lot) based it around the Lady Bone Demon & Sun Wukong. And of course some classic Chinese folklore...

It is a total rom-com scenario, with the Moon Queen betrothed to the Sun King... they but heads at first then slowly but surely fall in love.

Sleeping Beauty/ Fairy Tale AU:

This one was really made for young Sir Arthur & Celestine... I couldn't help it guys it was such a classic movie. Malfience icon (she's definitely be Morgan in this Au).

Especially when I was looking for dancing references I kept looking at the sleeping beauty reference dance sequence the most. (for a project to be revealed later still a secret) So I had to give a shoutout to that of course, love how it turned out!

Super Paper Mario Au:

I think this one is my favorite one I always got emotional for Count Bleck & Tippi's backstory. Their love story is quite similar to theirs....they just fit the characters so well.

In all honesty, if Sir Arthur didn't have Meta to ground him... then he definitely would have become like "Count Bleck." Oh but just like Tippi Celestine would still love and forgive Arthur anyways.

~

And here is an Au relevant to the plot of KBASW... I did wanna draw out more scenarios relevant to the plot of KBASW but then they kept leaking out to spoiler-ish territory.

Next Scenario Happy Ending Route. (Basically, Celestine & Arthur are running the GSA and this is a daily occurrence~)

They still have to wait for...(Kirby is lost for a while and is found by Meta and of course baby imprints on him and he's still Meta's) They become this obnoxiously flirty-loving couple... MK's seen this since he was a kid so he's desensitized. They do get work done I promise ~ (LMAO)

@kirbyoctournament

Keep reading for spoiler content/ Special thanks

~

This is where Celestine finds a cure for her " broken warp star" situation. They basically gave Gala the same isolation treatment (because he was supposed to be the galaxy's savior~). But Celty (secretly visits him as often as she can to ensure he isn't lonely.

After this time Celestine finds Meta in the Fountain of Dreams (before anyone could find him). The Ancients were so preoccupied with Gala that they weren't even montioring the fountain.

Basically, no one knew that Meta Knight was born but Celestine & Arthur. He's raised in secret at the temple. (They make a cute little family together ~) And Celestine would set up secret little play dates for the both of them.

A few years passed and then BOOM!

They manage to catch Icarus in his crimes for "forcibly creating another astral from Void." (Kirby was always going to be made but he came out too early due to Icarus' involvement.)

Morpho still takes his life but they manage to trace it back to Uther... The people are now questioning the Acients in their decisions and soon fall out of power due to the controversy. To save face they crystalize Sir Uther... (HA) but that doesn't help them at all~

It was during this time that Celestine properly revealed herself as Merlyn... WHAT!? Another blunder blew up in their faces...and the people immediately began to rally behind her. The popularity of her good deeds as Merlyn is what gets her into the seat of power.

Leaving Celestine in charge of the GSA (finally left in the right hands!) And of course, she takes Arthur with her as her right-hand man and well I think the GSA would become more of a light-hearted place after that.

(Morgan leaves, she doesn't fit into this hippie-dippy-happy place but she's not evil per se... she kinda just travels around as she pleases and she does find her happiness being a wanderer.)

Nightmare is still a problem but Nightmare Enterprise is never created, so it's not as widespread. So it's managed and the galaxy is thriving under Celestine's control. And of course, Arthur & Celestine confess their feeling for each other yada yada yada....

And of course, Kirby defeats Nightmare and that's it~

Despite this happy ending Meta Knight never meets Jecra & Garlude as a result of this. Along with Kirby never going to Dreamland or meeting everyone; Fumu, the cappies, no nothing. And the need for Star Allies no longer exists.

~

More content on these two to come and guys let me know which Au scenario you like more (reblog, leave a comment... maybe I'll expand on it more fun content to come)

I also wanted to thank everyone for getting me through round two I hope you all continue the support for next week's voting poll ROUND THREE!

Thank you for riding this wave with me!

Hope you all have a wonderful day!

@lulu-chaos-incarnation I just also wanted to thank you for being such a loyal fan. I really appreciate you I know I went a little crazy on the AUs but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless! :D

[arthvrmvrgan]

Arthur Morgan x Male!Reader Hcs

Hey!! I wanted to make another hc list cuz the last one did so well! I made this an x male!reader because as a gay trans guy, there really isn’t too much when it comes to male readers. I just wanna make other people who feel the same and myself feel happy and represented!

Also to add Arthur is autistic in this

Warnings: Mention of vomit

Though he maybe aversive to touch with others, arthur is SUCH a cuddle bug with his partner. When they first start out he’s shy and will hold your hand or wrap his arm around your shoulders.

but once it’s long term arthur gives you big bear hugs, hands around your waist, holding you close by the fire, and of course those soft kisses <3

When he’s drunk, he pulls you onto his lap, smothers your face in kisses, and yells about how much he loves you.

Arthur also gets shy when it comes to talking about his interests. If you mention something like drawing or horses, he’d make a small comment or addition to the conversation. But once he’s comfortable enough, he’ll infodump for hours about horses to you!

Just hold him close, let his head rest on your chest while you pet his hair and he infodumps, and he’s in heaven!

Some pet names he’d call you would include: “Darlin, Sweetheart, My prince, My man, Hun, and Sunshine” :3 When you call him any pet name, his heart melts and his legs feel like jelly

He loves giving and receiving praise! He’ll whisper in your ear “good boy” just to mess with you cuz he know it makes you BLUSH! But he’ll also be like “atta boy!” or “yup, that’s my boy.”

The first time you praised him, it felt really odd for him. He hadn’t been praised like that ever since he’d been with Mary. It felt so foreign but so…good.

His big ol’ heart skips a beat when you tell him how proud you are of him, or how he looks so handsome in that new shirt you got him. He feels like the happiest man on earth

Now unfortunately, times weren’t as accepting as they are now. You and Arthur knew it had to be kept secret for fear of what might happen. You two don’t feel any embarrassment at all, just a need for a safety. The gang knows about you two, most of them accepting you with welcome arms!

You also help Arthur out more with errands, jobs, and chores. Ever since an incident were Arthur worked his way up to illness like vomiting, you’ve made it your duty to lay off the weight on Arthur’s shoulders.

If he needs help with the hay bales, you’ll be right next to him holding one. If he’s going out on a stage job from alden, you ask if you can tag along!

Arthur has gotten better with accepting help or rest, but not so much asking for it. You still encourage Arthur to request help if he needs it, and how he’s not weak for doing so.

There have even been times where you’d yell at Dutch and Strauss to leave Arthur be for a bit.

He’ll sometimes doodle little drawings of you in his journal as well as writing lovey dovey passages about you and putting “A<3Y/N” with a big heart too. He’ll even just doodle random hearts while spacing out and thinking about you..

He gets so excited to see you, even if you can’t tell. The way his eyes light up like a big puppy dog’s as he speed walks over to your horse to greet you and give you a welcome back kiss

He also penguin pebbles and finds random stuff that reminds him of you!! Whether it be a cigarette card, a flower, or even some artifact or object he found…he WILL give it to you!

That’s all for now! If y’all wanna send in your arthur or just any other rdr hcs, feel free! I also wouldnt mind writing more arthur hcs so please feel free to send me rqs!

[mawecking]

i was… sketching some catified micah n arthur fights for my next rdr2 warriors au but i kept finding refs of cats smooching instead n my dad said yeah just draw them cuddling or some shi so i did. i never thought i would end up drawing mediocre toxic old cats yaoi i kinda despise myself . Had to post them separately from the next official post ..

worst drawings ever underneath. ok warning ends here

also thank u cat!micah truthers … u were my biggest supporters on the last post i Really enjoy drawing him as Pathetic and ugly as possible i wanna do more of Him at some point

[red-doll-face]

Snow Angel 10

Chapter 10: adamant Series Masterlist

low - medium honor Arthur Morgan x fem. Reader

Arthur has been living by himself, laying low (for real this time) somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. After the whole Pinkerton and Micah debacle, he has been hiding away, waiting for it all to blow over, occasionally getting letters from the people who still know that he’s alive. He’s been alone awhile and at first, he thought he could handle a little loneliness. He has been wrong before. Lucky for him, you look like the perfect thing to break up the monotony.

Warnings: depictions of a panic attack. PLEASE AVOID if that would end up harming you i beg !!! dubious consent, arthur’s mental health is kind of not so good…VERY low honor Arthur, darkish fic, a bit of naive reader. Reader has dated and period typical ideals, not very good ideas about men and marriage… if you want reader to be strong and a fighter… this is not for you sorry. suggestive themes. I am being serious when I say that arthur is bad at handling this situation. he does not think he has done anything wrong. if youve been reading so far you know that that is BAD. please do not read if you can't handle it, im putting a giant RED FLAG on this WC: 4753 SNOW ANGEL DROP TN??? everybody say thank you to @emerald-ranch CHAPTER 10 !!! we did it !! it took me a while to churn this out and get it to a place that i liked. im still not even sure i like it LMAO thank you for all of the lovely little niche questions i get about my strange snow angel arthur, he is everything to me and i love to speak him into existence. first time writing angst soooo Tags: lots of angst todayyy, no TB, weird but not that toxic relationship, Arthur being a menace.Arthur being rude as always just… low honor arthur as a warning lol You and Arthur clear the air.

“Caught me a little bunny, pretty one too,” you can feel his excitement behind the fabric of his pants, his belt digging into you uncomfortably. Arthur’s features, although covered in shadows from the dusk drawing in, still reflect his anticipation. He takes his hat off, his hand drags his hair back, damp with sweat, darker than the usual lighter brown. Some of it still flops over into his face anyway. 

Your hands push at his shoulders weakly, whining as he dips down to kiss you, the warmth of his breath fanning over the roundness of your cheek, you can feel the scrape of his stubbly hair on your face, the dimple at the tip of his nose brush over you. 

“Arthur, please, I just- I wanna go home, you won, you got me,” he hums, running his tongue over your neck, his arms prop his body up over yours, keeping you warm in the cold chill. He covers you well enough, shields you from the winter with his frame, wide and heavyset. You can feel the rumble in him when he says ‘you’re damn right, I did,’.

The sky is a pretty shade of purple, a little like lavender. You look up, feeling his body tilt to one side, held up on his elbow, his other takes the opportunity to roam over your body. “We can go to our home, Arthur,” you try to pull at his desires, but he won’t have any of it. 

“Wanna see my prize first,” he says between puffs of air, his tongue pacing over the delicate skin of your neck. His hands tug your skirt upwards while you try and keep your legs closed. His hands grip the fat of your thigh, dipping under the dainty fabric of your stocking. Between his legs is the rather stiff press of him and his arousal. You don’t like how easy it is for your body to respond to just the notion of him taking you like this, like an animal.

His rough fingertips skim over the mark he left on you, the one your mother saw. 

“All you had to do was say you liked it. I know you did. You like everything I do,”

“I-No, I…I couldn’t-” You couldn't make it stop. Couldn't make your body stop reacting to him is what you want to say. But to say so would admit that some part of you liked what he did. You snap your mouth shut like a coin purse. You can’t bring yourself to say such a thing. Not that his ideas deserve to be validated. He gives you a knowing look which sends a tremor down your spine, your legs shifting nervously. 

“Quit your lying’, girl, you ain’t fooled me yet. Shouldn’t be ashamed, sugar; I might be a bastard but I ain’t the worst thing coulda happened to ya,”

“I’m not trying to…I told her not to say anything,” you whine and push again at his shoulders but he doesn’t budge. 

“Mhm, how come I don’t believe that for a second,”

Either way, he drops his mouth to your neck, sucks another painful mark just under your ear, the sensitive skin tingles with sensation, pulling pain from your nerves. You tilt your face away, you can’t get him to stop. You can hear the wetness of his tongue moistening your skin before he's sucking a deep red mark, which will be another bruise on your skin. You pull at his hair, but you’re held down just as easily while he nips away.

Your back arches, your skin tingles. A lewd whimper is all you have to offer, keening for him. The quiver inside you isn’t mindful at all. Pure reaction, pleasure rising to the surface. 

 He gives you more than one this time, leaving them at his leisure. He's ripping your blouse open next, so he can leave more on your breasts. The soft flesh is alight with nerves, rippling desire through you. 

“Think you’re starting to like it, angel,” you still your body, disconnected from its actions, which until then was moaning, clutching his shoulder for dear life. The tide of your emotions rises higher though, ice cold water crashing down on the pleasant warmth gathering on your lower belly.

Like you’ve stepped in front of a wagon train, the panic sets in, more than any other time before now. A shameful part of you; an awful desire that burns for Arthur somewhere inside of you, wants him to keep going. To make good on all of his promises. But it’s too difficult to indulge that part of you. The shock of what happened in your family’s home is too much. It drops on your head like an anvil or a blacksmith's hammer. You’re entirely too aware of how your father’s blood dripped over his own fingers. Your mother crumpled to the ground as she watched Arthur take you away. 

“I don’t-don’t want to do this right now, please,” It’s maybe the first time you cry at his insistence. And the first time you’ve been utterly clear about what you do and don’t want. In the most explicit terms possible. You feel the tears well up in your eyes. You cried like this when he first told you what he wanted. They drip down the sides of your face. You hadn’t been able to stop him on the first night. And after he made you all too aware of how things work between a man and a woman, you hadn’t tried to, overwhelmed with how good he was at dragging pleasure out of you. But now, it’s like the world has come closing in and there’s nothing that can stop it from swallowing you whole. Not after what he did, simply because your father thought to stop him from taking his only daughter away. 

Your breathing comes far too quick. Your head feels like it's full of air and it begins to hurt. The cold stings your finger tips. You have no regard as to what your face looks like, letting it bunch up in what is probably an unsightly expression of your reactive sobbing.

“Hey, hey, I-” He’s no longer using that husky tone with which he usually addresses you when he gets like this. It’s trying to be soothing but a certain panic underlines his words. You can see him take his hands off of you, as if he’s burning you with every touch. But he still keeps you underneath some of his weight, his mouth opens as if to say something else, furrowed brows 

“Get off…Get off me,” you push at his shoulders and at first he doesn't move an inch. When you don’t immediately feel his weight move from pinning you down, your sobbing becomes volatile. Struggling to breath through your tears and your desperate wails, you inhale faster but it still feels like it's not enough. Thrashing mindlessly at him, uncaring of his anger or his punishments, is what makes him ease off of you a little. 

“Woah, easy,” he tugs your skirt down, shielding you from the cold as much as he can without touching you but you can’t stop yourself from being consumed by the physical reaction your shock evokes from you, wrenched from you. Like a child and their toys infected with scarlet fever. 

His soothing does work a little, now that you know he’s stopping, that he’s covered your legs. You sniff and writhe, your fingers grip at his upper arms. You can finally blink through your tears to see his expression, worry clouded with something you’ve never quite seen. The pull of his mouth tugs towards a guilt he’s never shown you before. 

You’re starting to breathe way too much, all of the air makes you dizzy and the cold still burns your lungs but you don’t care, letting the pain ground you. Your arms wrap around yourself to cover your breasts, trying to fix your ruined shirt to no avail. The frustrated fumbling of your fingers has Arthur softening more, but his voice still intonates with his natural authority.

“Sweetheart, you need to slow down. Jus’ breathe, you’ll be alright,” his commanding voice controls you more than you thought it would. He sits back on his haunches, hoping the distance might do you some good, crowding you isn’t in his best interest. You gasp for air, sitting up a little with the space he’s afforded you.

Arthur comes closer to calm you when he notices you can’t seem to do it all on your own. He’s slow, shushing you, his hand pets your hair, down behind your ear, to the side of your neck. He keeps his eyes low, the warmth of his hand helps you a little, so does his own rhythmic breathing, slow and steady.

He doesn’t say much for a minute or two, a ‘that’s my girl,’ tingles your ear, warms you up. You sigh, trying to regulate your breathing, appreciating his help but still feeling frightened and confused. Especially when you consider that he is the source of all your troubles. Arthur is close enough so you feel body heat, his fingers brush your tears away. Sweet in this gentle moment. How could you stand to take comfort from a man who shot your father? Who could have missed, who could have killed him? As always, you doubt that you’re right in the head. Something must be broken within you.

It’s hardwired though. Arthur is all you have left now. The only one here with you.

He doesn’t seem excited in the same way he was before. The adrenaline from his chase dies in your blood, leaving behind the residue of stress, a headache forming. The pace of your heart does slow down now, the puff of the air in your lungs. He watches you with an odd expression. Glad that you’ve calmed down but still disappointed. Perhaps with you, having ruined his plan of taking you, of spreading your legs in the snow, burying himself inside of you. If things hadn’t gone so wrong today, you might have let him.

The thought makes more shameful tears drip down your face. Despite any calm summoned from you, you still feel the curl of disgrace, laying in your tattered shirt underneath this man, shrinking away from his stare.

“What's wrong? Did I hurt you?” You can at least appreciate that he is worried about you, even if he has no clue why. You can see a fear in his eyes that he tries to hide from you, a fear that he’s caused you real pain. At least you know now that if you had done more screaming and crying, he might have stopped that day. You didn't think him to be so thick as to not understand why you are as emotional in this moment as you are. 

“Arthur, no, no, I just- I don’t want- I want to go home…now,” You had wanted to come away from this moment, maybe just a bit touched at how he had helped you through your foolish hysterics. But as always, some part of Arthur balances it out. 

“Just tell me why you was cryin’. I know that ain’t all of it,” He narrows his eyes. Your jaw drops, unable to hide your outrage. Your anger, which you keep in check most of the time, pushes at the lid of the pot you stuff it in. Every single grain of it threatens to spill out. Your fingers scrunch, your face does too. 

“Shooting my father and then hunting me like an animal; pushing me in the dirt for- for your desires- that’s not enough?” You realize now that dusk is here and it’s colder in this dark valley than it was before. You move to stand, he’s upright before you and he does try to help but you refuse him. Unfortunately, your anger hasn’t been honed into a point sharp enough to cut. It’s only wet and girlish, it makes you cry and tremble, your throat thickens unpleasantly.

“You did what you wanted with me, like you always do. But my family… I never wanted-” You wobble onto your feet, closing his coat in front of your chest. You should never have indulged him. You should have bitten and chewed and snarled and spat until he left you alone. 

You aren't sure why you didn't. You suppose it felt nice to have a man notice you, to call you pretty. To want you in some way other than to just ignore or to leer at disgustingly like the lonely trappers at the trading post, even when they were friends of your father. How pathetic of you. 

Yet, nothing about what he did felt disgusting. It was the expectation on you as a woman to reserve these affections for marriage that lashed against the inside of your ribcage. That whispered that it was wrong; it was anything but the pure and gentle lessons you received as a girl. Opening your legs so willingly for a man because he called you pretty, called you all sorts of saccharine praises, was tearing away at you. You hadn't fought him harder and at first you thought it was because there was no point, that he was too strong anyway so why waste the energy? But now, you aren't so sure of that resolve. 

He was handsome in his own way and he didn’t seem like all the boys your mother told you to keep an eye on in case you should marry one day. Lanky and thin, sparse hairs on their chins which they stroked like great beards. He wasn’t a drunken fool or witless boy.

Arthur was a man. He acted like one, he smelled like one, looked like one. He wasn’t afraid to muck stalls, to cook. And he acted like you were married already, like you loved him and he loved you. Perhaps you liked the idea of having a man such as him, a man who didn’t need you to replace his mother’s duties, a man who wanted you to simply be with him. And those glittering moments where you played house with him, sat on his lap and let him kiss you. You could have stayed with him there forever, buried in the snow. You would have been happy if spring’s thaw never came. But now, he stands, with an almost resentful look at your accusatory tone.

Everything has dissolved into a coagulated mess, like spoiled milk. 

“I do what I want with you? The hell does that mean?” He’s more upset now, at the insinuating circumstances. 

“Arthur,” you recoil at the anger in his voice. You don’t even know what you meant particularly but Arthur fishes a meaning out from your words, even if you hadn’t put too much stock into your own words. 

“You’re sayin’ that I violated you, is that it?” his hands rest on his hips as he moves to keep staring you in the eye, you’ve never seen him like this before. Really angry. 

“I didn’t ask to do that with you, I told you to…” It’s like he can sense how noncommittal you are with your own sentiments. Your own certainty doesn't linger with you. As much as you would like it too. He sniffs it out like a bloodhound, throwing the truth in your face. 

“You know what I think? I think- fact, I know. You’re one of those gently reared girls, think they’re better than this, above any of this low down ruttin’ us sinners do. You can’t even say it, can you? All that we got up to. That’s called fuckin’ , sweetheart,” The word curls into his vicious smile. You’re scandalized, can feel how your hands pull his coat even tighter. You don’t think you’ve heard anyone talk like that to you. It’s a dirty word but you suppose that is what it felt like to be with him. Dirty. But that rush, you can’t deny that. The one that shoots up your spine when you remember how it made you feel. 

 “Can’t say you ain’t like it, can’t say you did; and I get it. Ain’t the first time I met a girl like you. But you can’t lie to me,” 

You ignore the hind-brain jealousy that pokes your mind. His words are truer than you want them to be. You said stop once or twice, although you can’t recall too well about things you said. Instead, you told him you belonged to him. You had meant to endear yourself to him. It worked far more than you wanted it to. 

Pretending like you didn’t want him to do what he did protected your own self important image as your father and mother preferred you, not how things really were. And now that you don’t have them anymore, what use was that image? You try to cling to the truth of your old life, crumbling to pieces around you. 

“It’s not just about that. I…I didn’t say yes…I thought you would hurt me, you told me you didn’t want me to fuss. When you told me I had to stay…” you stun him, he seems like he hardly remembers doing that. In that low voice, his startling command. It scared you to the bone then, but it did shake something awake. You had never felt so wanted in your life as that day. Both of you are some type of wrong, you think. Maybe he recognized the same kind of wrong in you.

Carefully, he mulls over what you said. It affects him, you can see how that same guilt settles in the creases of his face. It roots around his eyes, the harsh lines soften. How his boots scuff against the ground. One of his hands scratches at his beard. But all too soon, it’s gone and a resolve hardens on his face, like he’s dashed the guilt away. Made room for something else. 

“Am I just supposed to believe you was lyin’ when you said you liked it? I don’t make you talk, darlin’. You might be pretty as a doll,” He looks over your features, over your hair and your pouting lip. “But you ain’t no string puppet. Wouldn’t hurt you, honey, not like that, not how you’re meanin’. It’d do you some good to remember that ain’t true ‘bout most anybody else,” He lets his body naturally intimidate yours, looking down his nose at you.

You don’t know how he can have such a prideful stare. Like he knows he’s right. He pushes the memory of your father, kneeling and gripping his wound to the front of your mind. 

“You didn’t have to shoot him. Heaven forbid my father from trying to protect me from you. Wouldn’t be the first time a father tried to keep his daughter from marrying you. Arthur, why exactly is it your first instinct to go waving a gun around when something goes wrong? I don’t understand what drives someone to do the things you do,” He chuckles darkly, as if you told a morose joke at a funeral. He does let a quiet frustration come over him, a glare gets leveled at you. But he holds himself tightly in his own restraint. Your retaliation against him; he treats it as a minor slight. You cross your arms while he brushes it off. All too good at letting insults slide off his back.

“That makes the two of us. I ain’t been a good man most my life and I ain’t sure I’ll ever be any good at it. I try to be good to you, I do, but maybe it ain’t enough. That’s just fine with me,” He steps closer to you, sensing your shock at his words. He’s back to that prowling wolf from before. His demeanor changes on a dime. He bends at the waist to grab his gloves and hat, dusting the bottom of the brim casually against his coat before placing it back on his head. His gloves are shoved haphazardly in his pocket. “I don’t know if I need that from you, some fairytale love story, where your Pa hands you over to me and I bring you up to the altar dressed like a government boy,” You’re almost afraid of him, how he carries himself. There's a dread hanging in the air around him, a foreboding poke in the back of your head. 

“Used to be an outlaw, around New Austin, Heartlands, all over…” you look at the cold look in his eyes. Colder than the snow that dusts the ground. Frozen stiff like a corpse, but you tremble anyway. He shifts his legs, widening his stance and placing one hand on his belt, next to the shiny revolver. “I’ve killed people, robbed them, or both…done things I wasn’t always proud of. I ain’t too proud of what I done with you neither. Tellin’ you that is…just about as good as bein’ married. Can’t let ya go wanderin’ off knowin’ the truth, now,” Arthur raises his arms in something like a shrug. The nonchalant air about him has that wet anger rising in your throat again.

“You ain’t goin’ back home. Least the home you had. Me puttin’ a bullet in your Pa don’t change that. I’d advise you to make your peace with the fact. I keep havin’ to tell you. I hate repeatin’ myself,” You continue to stare, eyes wide with the realization of his truth. An outlaw. You must be the most unfortunate girl in the state. To walk into the home of a killer. Your thoughts trail back to how he disposed of the body of the man who had tried to rob you. The cold and careless manner of dealing with death was telling then. It screams at you now.

“I-I’m not some belonging for you to collect, for you to hang on your wall. To put up on top of your fireplace, Arthur,”

“No, you’re much more than that,” You aren’t completely sure of his meaning. But it’s something that entails you being with him how he wills it. No better than being chained to his bed, really. He nears you and you do take a wary step backward, a little afraid of the neutrality on his features. He schools his reactions, tells you of his past with no remorse. 

“If you care for me, care for me at all, wouldn’t you- wouldn't you let me go?” you ask but you know his answer, when he finally closes in on you, drags one finger down the curve, the roundness of your cheek. His thumb rests on your lips, his other fingers curl around to almost the nape of your neck. His hand makes you feel entirely too small in his hold. Guides you to look up at him, as your fingers clutch the fur of his coat tightly around you. 

“See, that’s the problem right there,” he has a strange twist to his voice, a light lilt while he smirks down at you, the darkness dipping the shadows across his face into an even darker tone. “I care about you too much. Maybe it ain’t right, can’t say I give a damn either way,” the fragility of this moment isn’t broken until he puts a kiss on your lips that’s a thousand times lighter than the precarious air of this conversation. But you should have known being so restrained isn’t permanent with Arthur. 

A strong hand closes on your hip, drags you into the front of him. His breath quickens, it flatters you how much he likes you so near to him. Your hip aches pleasantly as he squeezes it. Your heart swells, you wish you could will yourself into rejecting him.

“Tell me you don’t want me, honey. Tell me to leave you alone…” You’re stiff as an iron rod when he pulls you to him. You brace yourself on him, hands compelled naturally to lay flat on his chest. Something about the full form of his body is so pleasing to you, the breadth of him against you. The warmth you feel and the strength lying in wait. The smell of him, leather and hide, tobacco and mint. It closes you in. You open your mouth to say something. Anything. 

“Arthur, that’s not fair,” you whine. Your anger might have caused you to lash out at him for once. But you’re back to the docile thing he liked to chase around, too occupied with his body so close to yours to realize that you’ve dropped all pretense of that strong front, that you haven’t answered his question. You wish you could continue being the kind of person who could tell someone like Arthur what he's asking. Strong willed, not so swayed. But you’re moved in the opposite direction by whatever is inside of you, some deep buried want of yours. And the constant tone of knowing that he’s bigger and stronger than you. It’s always there, rain pattering on the roof in autumn. He had no trouble chasing after you like this, in the encroaching dusk. It was more a game than any real challenge.

“Just say it, you keep tryin’ to, don’t ya?” you look away. Why can’t you say it? When he’s inviting you to rebuff him. You look up at him. A knot gets tangled in your insides. Your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth. What is wrong with you?

“You can’t cause you don’t mean it, not when this little pussy gets wet when I touch you, when you kiss me back. You don’t remember when you was touchin’ all over me? Those kisses you put on me?” he teases you, a more smug exhale is what you get. The night weighs on your shoulders like a heavy blanket and so does his reality check. He has a sigh and a faint groan, as if thinking of all that you’ve done with him in the privacy of his home. 

You think to defy him, to spite his words but you can’t when he gives you another kiss. The dryness he licks away. This one is a wet sloppy mess, it doesn’t last long but he’s as right as he knew he was, you melt into it, grab onto him, tilt so he can kiss you deeper. His teeth nip at your soft lips, his tongue rubs over yours. A warm shame fills your belly and crawls up your face. You can’t bring yourself to hate his stupid smug lovesick look, the way he rubs the scar on his chin as he pulls away.

“You like me, don’t you, sweetheart?” He’s mocking you now, he knows the answer just as well as you do but he likes to feel like he’s wrenching it out of you. He’s caught you and he’s holding you up by the ears while you dangle uselessly; a rabbit caught in the hunt. You stare up at him, caught in his pretty blue eyes, the little nicked scar on his nose bridge. You have a very reluctant almost imperceptible nod. Despite the raging heat in you at such an admittance. You like the man who locked you in his home, who wants you to marry him while hardly knowing him, who used to be an outlaw. 

“Even after I shot your daddy? You’re somethin’ else, girl,” he revels in your reaction but with his own version of pity, an endeared expression at your warbling chin and heavy sniff.

A bad feeling curdles in your belly, you bite your lip. You shouldn’t do this. How could you ever do this to your family? Turn your back on them like this? But you didn’t see another choice. Tears bead on your lash line. He has to rub his inevitable victory in your face. You don’t know how you’re going to continue. How you can even stand the sight of Arthur: of yourself. Now that he’s twisted everything out of shape to suit his needs. You should spit on him. Curse him until he gets struck down by the powers that be. 

But you don’t. You aren't sure there’s any end to that. You hope to never repeat this cycle again. Where you try to pull against his control and he overpowers, strong-arming you into doing as he pleases. He gathers your tears, brushes them away. Rough calluses over the little sensory hairs on your skin. 

“C’mon, sweet thing, it’s time you get what ya want, huh? Time to go home.” 

UGH this arthur gets on my fucking nerves but i am so weak for him i hate his corny ass. god dark arthur is just too much for me lmaooo feedback is more than appreciated, please let me know your thoughts im begging wahhhhh