The wild, wild West (Arthur Morgan x f!reader)

CHAPTER 31 - To drunk to think

The camp looked mostly the same, but the mood had changed. Night had fallen, a faint blue tint stretched across the dark sky. There was music in the air, a high pitched, smooth female voice and the gentle sound of a violin.

I had put the book aside and watched how the atmosphere in the camp filled with laughter and conversation. Arthur had explained that the red haired man was Sean, a gang member who had been caught in Blackwater. He didn't seem to happy about his return, but then again, I had never seen Arthur Morgan happy about anything. Satisfied, yes. Amused, sure. But happy? Never. Maybe that was to much to ask for from someone like him.

I stood up. My legs felt shaky and weak after weeks of sitting and lying down. Arthur raised an eyebrow.

„Come on, let's at least join them at the campfire.", I proposed.

„Fine."

He followed me over to the campfire. Even this small distance was exhausting and I was a little out of breath when I sat down next to John.

He looked me up and down for a moment, then he grinned. „Managed to get out of bed finally?"

I huffed. „Someone didn't let me 'till now."

He laughed, a dry, wheezing sound.

Javier started strumming a gentle melody. A few people were talking around the fire, my eyes roamed over the small crowd. Arthur had stopped just behind one of the logs we used as seats. His features were slightly highlighted by the golden light of the flames that reflected off the bottle he was holding in one hand.

Someones melodic voice broke the conversations up. „When I was just a lad, you know. I met a gal from ol' Bordeaux. She had blonde hair and blue eyes too. She let me ride on the ring-dang-do."

Some laughter followed, and the others joined in: „Ring-dang-do, now what is that? It's soft and round like a pussy cat. Got a hole in the middle and it's split in two. And that's what you call a ring-dang-do!"

I grinned when I heard Arthurs gruff voice in the mix of all of the singers, humming along to the melody and loudly singing the refrain. He wasn't a really good singer by any means, but it was so unusual to hear him engage in such a lighthearted activity that I enjoyed it. After I had listened for a while, I got up and stepped away from the group as discreetly as I could. I sat down at the cliff, looking down into the canyon while I listened to the now distant singing. The company was nice, but after weeks of being stuck in bed, I needed some time alone.

I had been sitting there for at least two hours, leaning against a tree, when heavy, familiar footsteps behind me and a low voice that kept humming the melody of the song broke me out of my thoughts.

„Done singin'?", I asked.

„At least I am.", Arthur replied and settled down next to me. He smelled of alcohol and smoke, his voice was a little slurred. His lips curled with the familiar, crooked smile. The soft moonlight and the glow from the distant campfire outlined his features. I was close enough to make out the details of his face, the scar on his chin, a little smudge of dirt on his cheek. The stars reflected like little white spots in his eyes. I glanced up at the sky again.

„It's quite beautiful, isn't it?"

He followed my glance and watched the dark night sky too. „Didn't know you were into stargazin'."

I hummed. „I'm not, usually. But I guess right now is a good time to get sentimental."

„Yeah, it might be."

And then, he leaned forward, closing the distance between us and pressed his lips against mine. They were rough and tasted like the beer he had drunk. His stubble scratched against my chin. I froze with wide open eyes, shocked. Then my hands found his chest, and I pushed him back with all the force I could muster up.

„What the fuck?! Don't ... don't ever fucking do that again." I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and spat on the ground. Then I jumped up, ready to storm off.

„Sorry, I didn't..." He cleared his throat and stood up as well.

I interrupted him. „I don't care. Just don't fucking touch me, Morgan."

My head was buzzing with a thousand vague questions, and not a single one was clear enough to answer it. While I slipped into my tent, I reached up to my lips, tracing the spots that his had touched. It felt so wrong. He had been clearly drunk, too. Was he this desperate to get laid or just wildly disrespectful? He had no right to even think the he could touch me like this.

My heart was racing for some reason, my body felt like it had been electrified. There was the same old anger bubbling in my chest and it took long until it calmed enough for me to fall asleep.

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-853 words