HIGHWAYS & BYWAYS ⊳ arthur morgan x reader

━ vii

After a pleasant walk of roughly ten minutes through the forest, you reach a small creek, where Arthur suggests you stop. He seems more eager than you are to teach you how to shoot a bow, and quite frankly, his enthusiasm is infectious. Before you know it, he's standing in front of you, rambling about every little detail that firing an arrow requires.

"Feet at shoulder width apart." Arthur instructs, hiding a smile when you awkwardly shift into position. He hands you the bow, then guides you to hold it up so that your arm is in a 90 degree angle.

His touches on you are soft but firm, and placed with thoughtfulness in just the right spots to avoid you feeling uncomfortable. "Now, hold the string with either two or three fingers. The arrow's gonna go..." He pauses, reaches into the quiver strapped to his back, retrieves one of said arrows and places it so that its end sticks between the two fingers you've set on the string. "...here."

"What am I gonna kill with this?" You joke, to which Arthur shakes his head.

"From the first try, probably nothin', unless it's standin' right in front of you."

Once that is said, realization hits — Arthur is right in front of you. Close enough for you to feel his breath lightly fan your face and close enough for you to feel just how damn warm he is.

"Ah, talk about convenience." You quip, then pretend to want to aim the bow at him, but he's quicker, retreating behind your back.

You giggle, but say nothing.

"This okay?" He inquires, polite as always, hands hovering just above your frame. The more time passes, the more your hypothesis of him being a hybrid between a gentleman and a cowboy turns truer. You nod.

He gently grabs you, palms warm and calloused set upon the soft skin of your upper arms. Arthur angles you a bit to your right. "How 'bout that tree over there instead? It ain't got no legs, so I reckon it won't run from you."

You chuckle, pretending to dislike the so-called compromise he offers you, but agree with a nod, finally.

"Now, when you tug the arrow back, you're not gonna want to use your arm..." He adjusts your hold on the bow with a tap below your elbow, which lets you know you ought to lift it. His fingertips brush over your right shoulder blade through your shirt. "But your back muscles."

You nod, pulling the string enough to feel it tense against your fingers.

"That's it." Arthur praises, then seems to stop for a second, hesitating. He reluctantly takes a step closer, his barreled chest flush against your back. "Now close one eye, aim at the tree, inhale." His voice is low, bordering on whispers, every spoken word rumbling in his chest and against the back of your neck. You do as he says, drawing in a breath. "Let go when you exhale."

The arrow makes a sharp, almost hiss-like sound when it pierces the air and lands in the greenery somewhere near the tree.

You relax your arms, letting them hang by your sides as you stare in defeat at where you'd lost sight of the arrow. Not even close.

"Not bad." Arthur speaks up. You want to turn around and tell him that your pathetic attempt is not deserving of any praise, but he's quicker, and adds: "In two or three years time, you'll be able to shoot a movin' target too."

He thinks he can tease you in such a manner and get away unscathed?

Thoughts whirring with potential smart replies, you turn around to face him, surprised at how close he really is. Your mind freezes. You could easily kiss him if you leaned forward just a few more inches — but you shouldn't. In an attempt to overplay your invasive thoughts, you instead slap his chest lightly and shake your head. Coming up with a smart reply is suddenly impossible. "Jackass."

"Come on, (y/n), I was jus' teasin'." Arthur puts up his palms as if to demonstrate his lack of ill intentions. "Care to try again?"

"To provide you with more stuff to make fun about?"

He smiles sheepishly. "Maybe."

You bite your lip to keep in a grin, then gesture for him to give you another arrow. He complies, gives you the whole quiver and hangs it over your shoulder.

You try again, and graze the tree bark this time. Progress, albeit only a little, is a welcome change. Arthur trots a bit further away, leaning his shoulder against another tree as he watches you wordlessly.

After three more fired arrows, one of them finally hits the target, and actually stays there.

You celebrate your victory with a giggle and look at Arthur, childish joy in your gaze. He's smiling at the sight too, before his expression shifts into one of surprise. He lifts his hand, puts his index to his lips, then nods at something behind you.

You follow the direction with your eyes, frowning as you glance at the creek, the greenery around it, the arrow stuck in the tree, and below it — a rabbit!

You whirl around, looking at Arthur for guidance, but he only shrugs and gestures towards the animal, as if he were telling you to go on.

You crouch, loading another arrow, starting to slowly approach the animal. The leaves below your feet rustle, and the rabbit is dashing off before you can hope to try to shoot it.

Goddamnit.

"I reckon starvation's more likely than you killin' anythin' anytime soon." Arthur pipes up, and you huff in defeat.

It's not like you have a choice.

"You said we're all out of canned peaches. Any better ideas?" The argument seems to be compelling without the context Arthur quickly provides.

"...how's a diner sound? There's one near Armadillo." You have to admit that it sounds far better than any rabbit you could hope to hunt down. And as if his suggestion wasn't compelling enough, he then adds: "It ain't more than an hour away, either."

"You already had me at diner, Arthur."