WOLFISH ⊳ arthur morgan x reader

Ch. XXXII

Part of you didn't want to dismount, or ever let go of Arthur. But you knew better than to put him through the torture of the teasing glances of his gang members, so you got off the horse along with him the moment you had arrived at camp.

Thankfully, the prying, curious gazes could be avoided under the cover of darkness. The little comments, however? Not so much.

"We have gotten miss (l/n) back!" Dutch announced as he strode amongst the tents and caravans, which immediately silenced the whispers. You, Arthur and John followed him towards a campfire. "And this time, without any losses."

"Don't think there were any losses when you got Arthur outta there either." A young, black fellow that had been sitting by the campfire spoke up with a quick, but warm voice that practically radiated wit. "Getting rid of Micah was a bonus.

"Besides, we always said we was gonna throw a party when he dies!" Another girl with blonde hair and a wide grin added. Karen, was it?

"Miss Jones!" The woman you recognized as miss Grimshaw scolded.

Amused snorts from the people that had also began approaching the campfire followed. Arthur also chuckled, but his attention was directed towards you for the most part. He took note of your longing stares at Pearson's cauldron, and leaned down to ask you a question you'd been dreaming to hear all night.

"You hungry?"

You nodded your head eagerly, which earned another smile from him. "Yes."

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You had to admit that there was something oddly calming about sitting by the campfire, your knee lightly grazing Arthur's, who was sitting beside you, radiating warmth in the chilly night air. Lobo was laying down at your feet, head set on his paws as he dozed off. Your second bowl of stew had gone lukewarm in your hands since you had also started partaking in the lighthearted conversation.

Javier was idly playing his guitar, a song in Spanish you could understand bits and pieces of, but didn't pay too much attention to.

"A few more like her 'n missus Adler, and women'll take over the damn world!" One of the men, Bill, you believed, said. You couldn't tell if the comment had been made with ill intentions or not, but quite frankly, you couldn't care less. All that mattered was that Arthur was safe, that Lobo was safe, and that you were safe.

"You're wrong, my dear friend." Dutch answered from the periphery of the campfire, but his voice sounded so clear that he may have very well been sitting right next to you. "A few more like her and Sadie, and there would be no world left!"

Some of the men laughed, but Arthur only glanced down at you and smiled - perhaps the goofiest, most lopsided smile you'd ever seen gracing that gorgeous face of his.

You answered with a similar expression, warmth exploding in your chest. You hoped this would never end.

You could've sworn you heard a gravelly voice call out something among the lines of an invitation for poker, which lured a good percentage of the members away from the fire, towards a nearby wooden table.

Only Dutch and a few others had stayed behind. The leader was looking at you and Arthur both thoughtfully and knowingly. You realized that perhaps showing your gratitude would be adequate.

"Thank you, mister Van Der Linde." You spoke up, having finished your last bit of stew. "For everything you've done. "

"Nothing worth mentioning." He answered, and for the first time, you felt as if his sweet tones were genuine. "We save fellers that need savin', feed fellers that need feedin', and we shoot fellers that need shootin'. It's what we do."

"You're good people." You looked at him, and then at Arthur. You had to refrain from grabbing the hand he had rested in his lap and giving it an affectionate squeeze. "All of you."

The gang leader gave you a curt nod as a response.

With that, Dutch also wandered off, leaving you with Arthur, Javier and just a few others around the campfire. You couldn't stop a tired, but nonetheless satisfied sigh from leaving your lips.

"I think I'm going to go to sleep, if that's alright with you?" You told Arthur after a few seconds of silence, forcing yourself to stand up. With languid steps, you made your way to a washing basin, where you saw others had left their plates of stew as well, and followed their example.

"Sure." Arthur answered and trotted after you almost like a puppy. When you turned around to face him, you saw something that bordered on anxiety in his gaze. "You can...um, sleep in my caravan. If you want to. 'F you wanna sleep with the other women, 's fine too."

"Arthur." He straightened up when you said his name softly, rolling back his shoulders as he watched you. A laugh threatened to bubble up in your throat - his innocence when it came down to such mundane matters was more than adorable, but you figured you'd spare him the embarrassment of saying it out loud. "We've shared a bed before. What exactly makes you think..."

"Dunno, figured you might be tired, n' all that."

"If anything, you're being foolish, mister Morgan." You giggled, then took his big, calloused hand in yours. He blushed at that, frantically looking around before staring down at the dusty ground. You brushed your thumb over his palm. "Lead the way."

He gladly did.

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You hadn't managed to fall asleep, but you should've expected it. There was just too much you wanted to tell him, and quite frankly, you would gladly battle with your tiredness over and over again if it meant you could hear Arthur's low, soft voice as he talked to you.

Your head was on his collarbone, one of your legs hooked around his, one hand splayed out on his lightly clothed chest, the other playing with his hair. You mentally thanked whoever had come up with the ingenious idea of creating leather flaps to provide you with privacy, albeit only flimsily so.

"What're you gonna do now?" Arthur asked, every world rumbling in his chest as he spoke. His eyes closed when you traced soft patterns over his bearded jaw. "Become an outlaw?"

"Don't think I have much of a choice anyways." You answered, nestling against him when he had silently urged you to do so by pulling you even closer.

"Javier told me. About Cathy, I mean. 'M sorry." Your head and hand raised and fell when Arthur inhaled shakily, but deeply. "If I only I hadn't-"

Fighting the fact that he considered himself guilty for her death would be futile, you knew that. But perhaps that thought could be gently coaxed from him, in time. Perhaps everything he loathed about himself could be loved away, though you heavily doubted it, you were willing to try. In time.

"It's not your fault, Arthur. It's not anyone's fault but the O'Driscolls'." You argued, and placed a chaste kiss on his shoulder.

Arthur fell silent. He stared up at the ceiling of his tent, though you couldn't tell if it was out of embarrassment or with the purpose of clearing his thoughts. After a few seconds, he put his lips to the crown of your head, whispering softly, but sincerely: "You're too kind to me."

"Maybe you're too harsh on yourself." You planted a kiss just below his jaw, working your way upwards - punctuation to your sentence, evidence that you had very much meant what you'd just said. "Maybe you should..." Your lips reached the corner of his mouth. "...accept the goodness that comes to you more openly."

"Not like there's much goodness to speak of." He responded with a grin, tilting his head towards yours, so that his breath was now tickling your lips when he whispered. His eyes found yours, and that shy grin of his grew cheekier, reminding you of the bared fangs of a wolf. "But I reckon I can try."

"That's perfect." You grinned back before pressing your lips to his.