WOLFISH ⊳ arthur morgan x reader

Ch. V

[I'm not one for lengthy author's notes, but sorry for taking so long! I somehow ended up getting stuck on this chapter in particular, mainly because I'm desperately trying not to rush their relationship. Sorry again, and thank you for being so patient♥️]

After you'd dabbed away the blood on the frontside of your shoulder, you were more than keen on getting some rest.

That was, however, much easier said than done, considering the fact that you hadn't bandaged the injury, and not washed out the blood from your shirt either.

And the fact that you were quite sick of bring the damsel in distress, in spite of not being given much of a choice. Goddamn wolves.

Biting your lip, you stumbled onto your feet. Your stomach's scarce contents already felt like they were rising, your head boiled with heat and pulsated with your heartbeat. Bloodloss and its many perks.

You had already let yourself get bitten by a wolf, acted like a goddamn fool in front of this man not once, but twice, and if there was one last thing you were most certainly planning on not doing, it was passing out. Or throwing up.

With that in mind, you swallowed down the cottony feeling in your mouth (as well as your pride — or what was left of it), and approached Arthur's campfire languidly. A few miscalculated steps and movements later, you could proudly announce that you'd collapsed somewhere near it and him. There was also Lobo brushing against your shins, though you'd barely felt the dog pass you by.

"Do you— do you have a bandage...?" You stuttered out. Your pride must've been in the negative by then. Arthur's gaze had found its way onto your face, and while it could have been your imagination or the lightheadedness, you could've sworn there was a slight trace of genuine worry flashing on his expression.

"You look like you might need more than just one, but yeah." He dug through his satchel, then you tossed something. Luckily enough, he'd figured your reflexes were little to nonexistent by then, and had aimed for your lap.

"Thanks." You said, picking it up unrolling some of it, and turning away from him, you slipped the button down shirt off your right arm entirely. Languidly, you started wrapping it around your shoulder, stopping every few seconds to gather yourself. For some reason, even making circle motions with your hands felt nauseating.

When you finally were done with it, you slipped your arm back inside your shirt, and buttoned it up all the way.

For some reason, even the slight bit of pressure from the bandage already felt calming. Soothing. You set your hand over the juncture of your neck and sighed in relief.

"Better?" Your head whipped around when the man — Arthur — asked you that. He'd already collapsed on top of a blanket, laying on his side, facing away from you. You'd been half-expecting him to be staring at your naked back, so to be completely honest, that was a relieving surprise.

"Yeah. Thank you. For everything." You began, scouting the ground for a place that looked at least a bit more comfortable and clean than the rest. There, a bit closer to the campfire.

You dropped to your knees, then let yourself collapse onto the ground, sucking in a breath after your injury stung from the impact. You closed your eyes and curled up, bringing your knees closer to your chest. You weren't to keen on sleeping on the bare ground — but then again, it's not like you had much of a choice. And not like you favored no rest at all over rest of horrible quality.

You were more than glad when you felt Lobo curl up behind you, warm fur brushing up against your back.

With the assurance of your pet's presence, you found it somewhat easier to drift off to sleep. Your breaths were getting shallower, world around you going dark before you knew it.

"You ain't sleeping on the grass, ain'tcha?"

Out of instinct, you reached for your rifle, but restrained yourself from going further. You weren't exactly used to hearing human voices while out in the wild, but you had been lucky to remember that day's events even in your sleepy daze.

"Can't exactly be picky." You answered, and wanted to shrug, but quickly realized you probably shouldn't.

Silence followed, accompanied by a sigh. You didn't even need to look at the man to know he was pinching the bridge of his nose. "There's an...old coat in the saddlebags. 'S more of a rag than anything now, but...it's better than sleeping on the ground, ain't it?"

You hadn't even dared of hoping for him to offer you anything at all, especially after everything he'd done for you, but it seemed like you were underestimating him. An outlaw wouldn't be doing this, a voice on the back of your mind told you, and part of you desperately wanted to agree. Whoever this Arthur you'd stumbled across was...he seemed like a good man. A grumpy one so far, admittedly, but so far, unusually kind.

"That's..." you struggled to find the right words, and then decided to opt for an approach that contained little to none. He'd be thankful for silence, you supposed.  "Thank you, mister Callahan. You're too kind."

You sat up, then forced yourself to stand. Lobo lifted his head at the sudden movement, and tilted his head as he watched you drag yourself towards Arthur's horse.

"I wouldn't be too hasty with my judgement regardin' strange men I just met in the woods if I were you." Came the answer that shut the voice in the back of your head right up.

You dug through the saddlebags' contents, stumbling across rifles and a lot more rings than a man could ever wear (and had to admit you were tempted to take one, but ultimately refrained). Until you pulled out a blue fabric, plastered with wool on the inside. Even holding it in your hand felt inviting.

You only found a piece roughly big enough for your torso to lie on, and decided you'd be more than happy with that. There were ripped strings on its sides, from what you guessed had been stitches.

You cuddled the fabric closer to your chest and walked back to the spot you'd previously chosen. Without too much of a hassle, you'd already set yourself down on top of it. It wasn't the peak of comfort, obviously, but it was a much welcome upgrade from the bare floor. It smelled slightly of gunpowder, but you didn't mind.

"Goodnight, mister Callahan."

"G'night."