hannah paula @gunslinginggoblin - Tumblr Blog

Come to me

summary : Arthur gets back to camp earlier than expected and takes care of your injury. pairing : Arthur Morgan x f!reader rating : mature (mdni) word count : 6.9k tags : fluff. A bit of angst. Reader is injured. Mentions of blood and wound stuff. Allusion to nudity. Kissing. Takes place in chapter 3. Reader isn't described except that she wears a dress and has long hair. Pics are mine (except for the needle one). Title from the song Come to me by Mark Lanegan and PJ Harvey. English isn't my first language sorry for the possible mistakes.

a/n : I hallucinated this a long time ago and needed to get it out of my mind and out of my wip list. This can be read as a stand alone, or as a follow up to Kiss me like you never did before (in my head it's the same reader). Thank you to my precious @thedilfdiaries for reading this for me, for the kind words and the constant support, and for saving the ending with your briliant ideas, you are the sweetest and I love you forever and always💖. Hope you'll enjoy. 🫶🏼

The soft morning sun is rising above the woods, slowly chasing the night away. A light breeze refreshes Arthur’s face as he stands next to his mare, the animal’s muzzle disappearing behind a patch of grass. Arthur chuckles at the sight, hands reaching for his satchel, absentmindedly looking for something better to feed his horse. It’s been a long ride back to Clemens Point, she deserves it. The last couple of days on the roads left him exhausted, starving. He’s got lucky again: just a little bullet graze on his forearm. Nothing to worry about. It wasn’t supposed to take that long for him to be done with this job. But some unplanned things happened, forcing him to wait a couple of days, making sure the trouble wouldn’t follow him to camp. Now he is taking his time to come back. He’s already reached the north of Lemoyne before sunrise, opting to ride most of the night to avoid the unbearable heat. After letting his horse rest for a few more minutes, Arthur jumps on the back of the animal, heading down to Ringneck Creek.

The yelping of the foxes running around makes Arthur’s mare agitated. He pats her back, soothing her, as he rides until the fringe of the woods surrounding the creek. Arthur slides off his saddle, leaving his horse running down the small hill, enjoying the fresh grass of the pasture. The river flowing down the rocks coming from below the tree line creates a melodic rhythm. The light morning breeze makes the leaves shake a little. It’s peaceful. Refreshing.

He remembers coming here with you a little more than a week ago.

Arthur was about to leave camp for the day when he spotted you waiting underneath a tree near the horses, early one morning.

“Got some time to kill?” He asked, nodding towards the book in your hand.

“I was waiting for you to wake up.” You replied cheerfully.

“I am all ears” Arthur stepped closer to his horse, tightening his saddle on the back of the animal.

You got up from the chair, and slowly walked around him. “Pearson is asking if we can get some food… said we could go to the general store or… we could go hunting, doesn’t matter we just need something to keep everyone fed. He told me to ask you to take me there” You never asked Arthur to take you anywhere before. So you were trying not to show how nervous you were.

“Ain’t nobody else to take care of this today?” Arthur asked back, harsher than he intended to.

“Why? Are you on your day off?” You joked.

“I was… I was supposed to go fishing.” He mumbled, nodding towards the fishing rod strapped to the side of his saddle.

“Fishing?” You exclaimed, incredulous. “Arthur Morgan… I would never have thought of you as a skilled fisherman” you teased him, your playful eyes never leaving his reddening face.

Arthur scoffed, slightly embarrassed… a skilled fisherman… “I am not… it’s just.. Javier showed me this place a couple days ago and… I reckon it was a pretty nice spot. Calm. Just me and my horse…”

“Oh…” you let out, understanding he would rather spend some time alone, unable to hide your disappointment. “Well it’s okay Arthur, I’ll ask Charles to take me to town, he is supposed to come back later this morning. Enjoy your morning Mister Morgan” you said with a soft heartbroken smile, slowly walking backwards to the camp.

Arthur noticed it right away, the shadow of sadness painted across your features, mentally chastising himself for being so damn awkward.

He called out your name as you were turning on your heels and walked towards you.

“Wanna come with me ?”

“I don’t want to be a burden Arthur if you want to get some quiet…”

“You won’t be a burden. And… Well. I want you to come with me.”

“Arthur… I…”

“You don’t know how to fish?”

“I don’t but…”

“I could teach you… ain’t easy but… maybe it will help us bring back more food for Pearson. So what do you say?”

“Okay… let me borrow a rod, I’ll be right back”

He watched you running off to your tent, feeding your horse a carrot. Nice save… he thought as you walked back to him, smiling so bright it made his heart clench. The two of you spent the morning trying to catch something… to no avail. You both promised not to mention this to anyone, feeling very lucky that the whole camp wasn’t awake enough when you got back in the middle of the morning, saddles full of provisions you bought at the general store…

Arthur smiles at this memory, taking the small path down to the creek, but he stops dead in his tracks when he notices a woman getting rid of her skirts on the shore… He is very grateful for standing up on the hill, surrounded by vegetation, so he won’t spook the nymph taking advantage of the coolest hours of the day in this peaceful clearing. As he’s about to take the path down the hill, something catches his attention : the horse drinking a little further down the stream, and the dark brown saddle. Arthur squints his eyes… and yes. It’s you, slowly walking in the water, your back facing him. He immediately steps to the side, hiding behind a bush tree. He takes off his hat and holds it against his chest, face flushed, breathing erratic. He could blame it on the ride but the way his heart beats right now reveals that it is the vision you just offered him, the white of your wet chemise glowing in the morning light, the fabric sticking to your skin, kissing every curve of your body, that gets him so flustered.

Peering above his shoulder, Arthur notices you can’t see him, not from where you stand… If he is silent enough, he should be able to find his mare in the pasture below, and hit the road without getting spotted… But as his eyes find your swimming form in the water again, he can’t look away. He sneaks out of his hiding place, a branch scratching his forearm in the movement, and stands there, above the little hill, admiring you. Your hair is adorned with droplets of water sliding down, creating an ephemeral crown made of the fragilest diamonds. He watches you moving so gracefully, without a care in the world for who could come across you in these woods. It should worry him. It’s a wild land after all. But he knows you enough by now to trust your ability to protect yourself.

He debates, for a slow moment, as he leans against a tree, the sun caressing his face, the sight of your beauty bringing back dreams of the night his lips finally touched yours, if he should take this path down to the river and join you. It would be nice if you could share a moment alone before returning to camp, before the outpouring of joy about a job well done and worries about the darker future ahead of the gang will inevitably fall upon him as soon as Dutch will hear the hoovesteps of his mare crossing the threshold of their temporary home. He never felt like he deserved them, these congratulations, even after all these years endorsing his role as Dutch Van Der Linde’s enforcer, his most trusted man. It has always sounded like a curse to him when he thinks about the cold bodies piling up in the wake of his leave.

His chest constricts at the thought, but the sight of you diving under the waterline makes it easier for him to breathe. He missed you. More than he has the right to. His hand twitches by his side, finding its place on his gun belt, a desperate gesture supposed to ground him. He can’t just show up like that after sneaking up on you. He shouldn’t disturb your peace.

He should leave, before you can see him up here… he wonders what you would say about him watching you. You would have all the right to feel offended, to call him out for violating your privacy… but a part of him wonders if you would feel flattered, maybe your heart would beat as fast as his, knowing that he would have loved to join you in the water…

You are swimming back to the shore now, facing him, blinded by the sun coming from behind the hill. Your sparkling skin captivates him… What the hell are you doing? He mutters to himself as he gathers the courage to step away from the creek and leave you alone.

Arthur is about to turn around, sighing to let out his frustration, when he notices it. Red. Red stains the immaculate white of your chemise, slightly diluting as it spreads on the fabric.

It tears him out of his thoughts immediately.

It seems to surprise you too, enough to make you run out of the water.

You sit on a rock near your discarded clothes, the barrel of your gun shining bright next to you as you quickly rummage through the pile.

As his hungry eyes roam down your wet silhouette, the chemise sticking to your skin, he reckons it feels wrong to stay there, he should go, but worry gnaws at him, and he just wants to make sure you’re okay. He crouches down, trying to stay out of your sight, and observes intently the way you peel the skirt off, revealing your bare thighs… What he sees next isn’t doing anything to reassure him… You wince and curse as you take a bandage in your hands, and bring it to your mouth to tear off the right amount of fabric.

Arthur isn’t happy about this. As he finally takes his eyes off you, he whistles for his horse, not caring if you'll notice him standing there anymore. He puts his hat back on his head, trying his best to calm down the blood boiling in his veins. The gang can wait. He has a more important task to do right now. He walks down to the animal, and disappears behind the trees.

The echo of a horse riding away makes you turn around quickly, worried about someone appearing behind the bushes. You spot a tall shadow melting away under the morning sun, the rustle of the tree leaves the only indication of them standing here a couple of minutes ago.The area is still safe enough, no need for you to jump on your gun. It was probably just someone passing by, probably someone who wanted to come here to fish and didn’t want to disturb you… And if it was an ambush… they would have attacked you already… and if someone followed you here…you would have known. You are safe. No need to overreact.

It’s been a little more than a week since you came here for the first time, when you went fishing with Arthur the day before he left…and you’ve come here every morning since then, enjoying some peace far enough from camp where the fear of getting caught by the Pinkertons starts to seize everyone’s attention. It’s a beautiful place, but considering your poor fishing skills and the lack of collaboration from the aquatic creatures, you decided to come here to bathe, read and enjoy the fresh air.

Tying the old gauze around your thigh, you let out a deep breath. Despite your best efforts, the gash opened again on the parts the knife cut you more firmly… You thought you wouldn’t need stitches, trusting your body to heal itself with a bandage tight enough… This was stupid. It could get infected…

You tried your best to keep it clean but now… now you aren’t sure what you are doing anymore. But there ain’t no doctor around… and with the men out for a job, you can’t spend your days injured and useless…

Finishing your handy work, you gather your clothes, put them back on, the dry skirts getting humid at the contact of your wet body, the blood stain on your chemise covered by the brown fabric of your dress. Nobody will see you injured, nobody will ask questions.

As you ride back to camp, each bump on the road making you wince in pain, you think about Arthur… you’ve been thinking about him since the moment he left, wondering where things stand between you two since the kiss you shared that night under the stars… You haven’t brought it up yet, and you are cursing yourself for it. You got close to opening up to him the day he took you fishing but something inside of you told you to wait, afraid to make a mistake and scare him away… But you miss him and you wonder if he misses you too. You realize that Arthur wouldn’t be very happy about your reckless behavior… bathing alone in the woods, injured… not properly taking care of your wound…but he won’t know anything about this. You still have a couple of days before he gets back to camp. You will heal before then.

The sun is setting down on the edge of Flat Iron Lake, the last rays of yellow light piercing the shade of the trees surrounding the camp. The sound of Javier’s guitar accompanies the cheerful laughter of the rest of the gang, as you discreetly give the content of your untouched plate to uncle, the old man silently thanking you, peering above his shoulder to make sure Pearson didn’t notice anything.

You take the path up to your tent as soon as you hear his name being shouted by John. Arthur is finally back, earlier than expected. You suspected it when you noticed Charles and John’s horses in the early afternoon. Arthur would come back soon enough. You struggled to hide your nervousness all evening, busying yourself with some laundry, trying to sew up your torn dress, the one you wore when you got injured on that job… You can’t let Arthur know or else he won’t let them take you out for a score ever again.

As you rush through the tents, you peer above your shoulder. The outlaw doesn’t even have the time to get off his saddle, and he is already solicited by the whole gang. Everyone gathers around Arthur, little Jack holding out his hands towards his uncle to greet him. Arthur gives him an old copy of wild west heroes, and turns over to Dutch, to hand him a pile of dollar bills. Dutch’s lips turn into a huge grin, and he gives the younger man an embrace, shouting to Sean to get some whiskey out of the crates.

“We gotta celebrate!” Everybody cheers, and gathers around the fire, corks are flying to the ground and Javier starts another joyful song. You hesitate, for a second, to join them and share this jubilation moment with the gang. But Arthur’s eyes find yours across camp, and you panic, hurriedly pushing the flaps of your tent open and hiding inside.

Arthur excuses himself and strides to your side of the camp in an instant, not caring about what people will say about him acting so desperate to see you : they’ll be too drunk to remember by the end of the night. He doesn’t announce himself, barges into your tent, barely giving you the time to adjust the side of your half undone dress.

“Arthur… What are you doing here?” you manage to ask, eyes wide in surprise, putting your clothes back in place.

He turns around, leaving you a minute to put yourself back together.

You weren’t expecting him to come see you this quickly, he was pretty avoidant before he left so you figured… Maybe he didn’t want to see you at all. But now that he is standing in front of you, hands resting on his waist, head tilted down, you start worrying.

“Thought you would come and say hi earlier, wasn’t expecting you to flee as soon as you’d spot my horse” he states as he turns around, watching you trying your best to sit down without wincing in pain. He sees the way you frown immediately, eyes avoiding him. You don’t want to give yourself away, and it makes him mad that you could be so determined not to ask for his help.

“I wasn’t… fleeing… Just felt a little tired, thought I could go to bed earlier for once” you lie, joining your hands on your lap and giving up on the idea of moving.

“Right. Yeah sure… I could use an early bedtime myself, might go and do just that too… Just wanted to check on you first, see if something was wrong…” Arthur mumbles, walking a step closer to your sitting form.

“Nothing’s wrong” you reply a tad too quickly, insecurity weighing on your voice. It’s too high pitched for you, and Arthur sighs, knowingly.

“You ain’t going to make it easy on me, aren’t you?” Arthur frowns and throws a brown package on your mattress. You scan the item, hands patting the fabric wrapped around it.

“Is that for me?” you ask, a little taken aback. If it’s a gift, he doesn’t seem very happy to give it to you…

“It’s for your leg” Arthur says harshly, standing right in front of you.

Your eyes grow wide as your hands stop on the package. You open it slowly, before looking up at him. It’s a sewing kit, in decent shape. It looks pretty clean, and you’ve never got the chance to see one in this condition, unfortunately used to borrowing some embroidery needles from Mary-Beth to patch up the wounds of the men. They’re thin enough to do a decent job, sure, but they’re too small.

You sigh, contemplating your options. You could confess, now. Tell Arthur that you’re hurt, that you got stabbed during your last job, a moment of distraction, resulting in your flesh being cut by the hand of a thief worse than the bunch you roll with. Better a knife than a bullet. But you chose to lie again instead. You feel like Arthur will beat himself up for not being there to protect you that day, for leaving instead of taking care of you, and you’re not going to let him feel guilty over your recklessness.

You clear your throat, trying your best to sound convincing “I don’t understand what you’re talking about Mister Morgan. My leg is perfectly f…”

Arthur cuts you off with a pleading whisper of your name. “Don’t lie to me… I know you are injured, let me just …” He crouches down in front of you, his hand resting on your knee.

“I am telling you I am fine Arthur… it’s just a scratch.” You blurt out, pushing his hand away. As you get up from the bed, a sharp pain stabs you right in the thigh, making your leg wobble.

Arthur hesitates for a second to catch you, but the look you give him suffice to dissuade him. He clearly isn’t welcomed any longer…

“Alrigh’. Just a scratch. Well… I’ll leave you now but you keep this. Just in case. If you don't need to use it on you at least you’ll have it in case you need to patch me up”

You just nod, watching Arthur stepping aside and heading for the flaps of your tent. You want to fall back down on your bed, and start taking care of your wound but Arthur is surprisingly slow at going out. You think about the gash on your thigh, notice the way you shake just holding that pair of scissors in your hand…. You can be stubborn all you want, you can’t do this alone.

You let out a deep sigh, sitting down as best as you can, gathering the skirts of your dress up your leg.

Arthur notices movement in the corner, and stops, his hands stilling on the canvas.

“Arthur…?” you ask in a feverish voice.

He doesn’t say anything, just ties the knot of the tent’s flaps and walks back to you, a sigh of relief escaping his lips.

The relief is short lived. Arthur watches intently, heart beating loudly in his chest as you lay down on the bed, revealing your wound to him.

“Jesus Christ woman… I thought you were alright… that’s … that’ doesn’t look alrigh’” Arthur curses as he inspects your thigh, staying afar at first.

“It ain’t quite as bad as it looks” you seeth, jaw clenched as his warm hands inspect the flesh surrounding your bruise now. It’s swollen, a little purple and the gash is a deep shade of red, blood coagulating in the middle.

He touches your leg a little too harshly and you hiss.

“Why didn’t you tell me anything sooner ?” He snaps as he sees your face scrunched up in pain.

“I thought that I could deal with it by myself”

“Well clearly you did a great job…” He mutters with a disapproving look.

“I don't need a scolding Arthur. I just thought stitches weren’t necessary.” You notice the way he scoffs, and feel the need to explain yourself further, despite the evidence that you made the wrong choice… You know you should have told something sooner. ”I took care of it… It isn’t even that deep, I swear, but I guess I must have moved too much or rode too early and now… ouch” you whine as he presses a cloth to wipe the blood stains off your skin.

Arthur pulls back, jaw clenched, upset for causing you pain.

“I am sorry. I guess you did a decent job keeping it clean. Now don't move, I’ll bring warm water to deal with this… And you're gonna need something strong to handle the pain” He states as he gets up from your bed, rolls up the sleeves of his shirt and heads outside.

You throw your head on your pillow, and cover your legs again, counting the minutes until Arthur returns. He comes back with a bucket full of warm water and more clean cloths you put to dry on the washing line earlier this afternoon.

He carefully washes his hands, then pushes his hair out of his face and washes his hand again, looking at your laying form nervously… He patched up the others multiple times, he usually tends to his own wounds, he even pulled a bullet out of his own side once … But this is different, you look so… delicate and your skin is so soft, he doesn’t want to damage your body with his rough hands and tenuous surgical skills.

You observe Arthur frozen in place, silently looking at you, wondering if maybe he intends to sew you up by the sole power of his mind.

“Arthur? Are you okay?” You ask him, pulling him out of his trance.

“Ah shit, I forgot the rhum… wait here” He cusses, already moving towards the exit.

“Wait! I got a bottle stashed somewhere” you yell as you lean over the edge of your bed, pulling out a brown bottle from an old leather box with a groan.

Arthur whistles as he takes it from your hand.

“I guess you’re spending too much time with Miss Jones” he jokes, dusting off the label.

“I won’t let Karen’s bad influence get to me” you laugh. “It’s for colds and emergencies… though I wasn’t expecting to use it for myself” you admit sheepishly.

Arthur gets rid of the old cork and sniffs at the content of the bottle.

“Where the hell did you get yourself some fine rhum like this one” he manages to say as he suppresses a cough, the warm and heady smell of the alcohol burning his nose.

“Me and Karen stole some bottles from a store when we went in town the other day” you reply proudly, head high, a wicked smile on your face

Arthur shakes his head disapprovingly, but he can’t help but smile too.

Your face heats under his gaze, and you almost forget why you asked for his help, if it wasn’t for the way you suddenly hiss in pain as your thigh muscle contracts.

Arthur hands the bottle to you, and you take a generous swig, the burn in your throat making you understand this whole gig won’t be very pleasurable. You hope the alcohol will make you feel dizzy enough to numb the pain, and the unstoppable thrill coursing through your body at the thought of feeling Arthur’s hands on your skin again. Maybe the sudden dizziness taking over your body is caused by Arthur’s presence rather than the acrid taste of the rhum.

Arthur starts picking up the tools, and asks you to pull up the edge of your skirt and gather it above your waistline. You pick up the fabric with shaky hands, suddenly feeling self conscious. You already showed him your naked legs earlier but it was just for a quick glance.

“I won’t look more than necessary, don't worry” he reassures you, settling down on the floor.

“I'd rather have you looking at me so you don’t butcher my thigh, mister Morgan” you tease, trying to lighten the mood, pushing your hair back behind your shoulder and readjusting your leg to expose your wound to him.

“I can’t make any promises” Arthur laughs and takes a deep breath, hands getting closer to your skin.

You both let out a shaky exhale at the same time, and you freeze when you feel him clean the injured area with some balm first, very slowly. When it’s done, Arthur tries to put the thread in the needle. He is so nervous and shaky that he can’t even see what he is doing.

“My fingers are too big I can’t…” he sighs, frustrated. If it was for himself he would have thrown that needle to the ground already. But he needs to be more patient, for you.

He tries again, before you grab the needle from his hand and sit up, brows furrowed as you pass the thread through the eye on the first try.

“Hey it’s okay Arthur.” you whisper as you give it back to him, fingers wrapping around his wrist to force him to look at you.

“I don’t want to hurt you even more darlin’” He exhales, shoulders slumping down, clearly handling this whole situation with great difficulty.

“I am not made of sugar Arthur, I’ll be okay.” You reassure him kindly, holding his gaze as you talk slowly. “Just… do whatever you need to do, I don’t want it to keep opening and bleeding forever, it needs to heal. And I trust you.” You let go of his hand, realizing the way you leaned over him, your face so close to his that you see the way his throat trembles as he swallows, trying to gather the courage to stitch you up.

“Okay. Lay back down. But y’let me know if it’s too painful ‘kay?” he says as you lean back on your pillow, face buried in the soft fabric. You trust him, he can do this, he convinces himself, offering you a shy smile.

You nod, focusing on the frame set on your bedside table, the worn out canvas thread hanging up above your head, the patches of wild clovers peaking through the wooden plank at Arthur’s feet. Anything, anything to avoid thinking about the pain as he starts sewing the wound, threading the needle through your skin. It’s not a very profound cut, but it’s a long one. You bite your lower lip as soon as the cold metal touches your skin, refraining yourself from screaming. Arthur asks if you are okay and you just nod, tears streaming down your face, the pain almost unbearable. You knew it would hurt, but this is even worse than what you were expecting. Soon, the dull ache is replaced by some kind of numbness, you ask Arthur to stop, pick up the bottle again and get some more alcohol in your system.

“You good?” Arthur asks, the back of his hand caressing your forehead softly. The way you look at him tugs at his heart… Hell he hopes he’ll never get to see you in such pain again. “Won’t take too long now, I’m almost done” he whispers soothingly, stopping himself from kissing you to make it all go away.

You shiver at his gentle touch and the genuine concern his blue eyes show. “I am ready Arthur. Let’s get this over with”

Slow and steady, one hand firmly pressing on your skin around the gash, making sure the stitches aren’t too spaced out, avoiding to leave you with an ugly scar, Arthur finishes his handy work, before delicately wrapping your thigh in a clean bandage.

“Might hurt for a while, and bleed a little around the stitches for a couple of days. Y’gotta keep it real clean okay? If you notice any weird color change, y’call me, I’ll take you to the doctor”

You don’t look at him immediately, too busy calming your breathing. Arthur’s hand finds your face, he cups your jaw and brushes the tears sliding down your cheeks with the pad of his thumb. He calls out your name softly, asking if you are okay and you just hum back, feeling your heart beating in your thigh.

“I’ll go into town tomorrow morning, I’ll grab you something better than this to help with the pain..” he says, head tilting towards the bottle at your side.

“You don’t have to… I can…"

He says your name again as he tilts your head up, holding you by the chin. It’s a warning this time.

“You ain’t gonna do anything. I’ll take care of it”

“Okay”

Arthur’s hand falls down on your naked thigh, he brushes the edge of the bandage, the tip of his fingers caressing your skin, raising goosebumps as they trail down to your knee. He rests his hand there for a moment. “You did good, you’re very strong” – He says softly, the praises falling from his tongue warming up your cheeks. – “You didn’t even scream… you should have seen Marston when we fixed his face… even with a shot he yelled like a baby” he laughs, and you join him, smiling. “But you better take it easy now okay? I’ll ask someone to cover for your chores”

“You should ask Karen… she owes me a couple of favors” you reply smugly.

“I didn’t know you were keeping tabs on people like that” Arthur stands up, rolling down the sleeves of his shirt. Hell he ain’t going to tell you this but the fabric is drenched. He never thought taking care of injuries could be so stressful.

“Well, I am keeping her secrets, she can do that for me” you say nonchalantly.

“Secrets?” Arthur exclaims, interested.

“I am not going to tell you Arthur, don’t even try” you warn as you sit against the iron headboard of your bed, trying your hardest to keep your leg still in the process.

“I am sure it’s nothing I don’t already know anyway” He brushes you off, clearly vexed for not being part of the confidence circle.

“Ohhh really?…. Maybe you do know, you have such good observation skills, nothing gets past you, right? Remember that rabbit we tracked for an hour the other …..” you tease him, enjoying the way he starts to act all awkward, clearly embarrassed that you picked up on his hunting struggles that day.

“Sure alright you can laugh. I leave you be with your secrets. But my observation skills got me here tonight, patching you up, so you should be grateful” Arthur says loudly to cover your giggles, regretting it immediately as soon as the words left his mouth. His heart stills in his chest for a long unpleasant minute, the silence stretching the confusion between you.

“What do you mean?” You frown.

“What?” Arthur asks back.

“You heard me just right Arthur”

“I haven’t said anything. I’ll come by to check on you tomorrow” He starts walking to the flaps of the tent, nervously scratching the back of his neck, before waving you goodbye.

“Arthur Morgan” You yell and he stops. “How did you know I was injured?

“Intuition” he replies quickly, trying to sound convincing. You shake your head, not believing this at all.

“You were out of camp when I got hurt. I haven’t seen you in days… Or did you come back earlier and avoid me the whole time?” You ask genuinely fearing that he didn’t want to see you.

“Nah it ain’t like that I…” he starts, hesitating to run out of your tent as fast as he can. He walks around the small space, trying to gather the courage to tell the truth, the sounds of his boots hitting the wooden plank resonating in his mind. For some reason, something in his guts tells him to go sit by your side instead. Maybe it will make you see for yourself that there wasn’t anything… immoral in his actions.

“You?” You press him, losing patience, your eyes scanning his face.

“I …This is just…” Why is he being so ridiculous about this? He can tell you… You won’t be mad at him for being worried about you, right?

“Arthur…come on we ain’t got all night. You won’t get out of my tent without telling me”

“And what are you planning to do to keep me here with an injured leg? Y’can’t exactly run after me…” He smiles, but you move your hand to slap his arm. Arthur stops you before you can touch him, laughing at your frustration.

You plead one last time, eyes reflecting a concern he feels eager to relieve from your mind. He gives in, a deep sigh escaping his lips, followed by his confession.

“Fine. I saw you” He says after waiting a beat, voice lower than you expected.

“You saw me?” You frown, leaning closer to him, not understanding what this is all about.

“Yeah… saw you this morning at the creek” he mumbles, ashamed.

“Arthur Morgan! This…It was you! I knew someone was there!” You gasp exaggeratively, flying backwards until your back hits the headboard again.

“I know I know I have no excuse I wasn’t … I wasn’t spying on you or anything I just… I just happened to take a break there and I didn’t think you would come to bathe here. I didn’t even know it was you at first and I…” He can’t stop the blush spreading on his cheeks as he keeps going with his explanation. He remembers the way your wet chemise hugged your silhouette, the way your skin shone in the morning sun… a skin he had the chance to caress with his rough hands earlier, for a fleeting moment. He takes off his hat, thinking about some formal apology to give you.

Your heart is fluttering in your chest, heat warming up your face. Deep inside you feel flustered by his reaction, the way he starts playing with his hat, not looking into your eyes.

“It won’t happen again… it was just… and I haven’t looked for too long I… that's not… I meant no disrespect, I was just concerned and I… Well I guess I was right cause something was definitely wrong…” He nods towards your leg.

“I am not offended Arthur, it’s okay, don’t worry” you reply with a kind smile.

“Right… it’s just… I don't want you to think I did it on purpose. I ain’t that kind of man” He is still actively avoiding your eyes, focusing on his boots instead.

“I know.” you place your hand on his, stopping his fidgeting. He lets his hat rest on his thighs.

“Good.” He finally says, looking at you.

You stop breathing for a moment, completely lost in each other's eyes. You want to tell him you wish he would have joined you in that creek, that you’ve been riding out there every day since he took you to this place, that you missed him every minute he was away from camp. But you stay silent, afraid to be too straightforward, keeping your thoughts to yourself a little longer, until the moment feels right.

Arthur clears his throat, reluctantly looking away from your beautiful face.

You want to ask him to stay…but the words get stuck in your throat again, and before you can say anything, you feel his weight lift from the small mattress of your bed.

“I think… Well… I am going to join the others for a while…”

“Of course.” You nod a little too enthusiastically. “Thank you, for coming here tonight, for making sure I was okay, for patching me up.” you smile, heart breaking at the idea of having to stay alone in here while he’ll be with the others.

“Sure. Anytime.” Arthur says, standing up in front of the flaps, rolling one side up, letting the moonlight illuminate his frame. He puts his hat back on his head and bids you goodbye, his silhouette disappearing in the night.

“Goodnight Arthur” You whisper to his shadow as you lay back down in your bed, hiding yourself behind your covers, the sounds of his steps walking away accentuating the longing feeling in your heart.

You sigh, letting your arms fall on your chest. You feel stupid, stupid for wishing he would have stayed at least a little longer, for wishing he would have kissed you good night.

You still remember the feeling of his lips on yours, the night you first kissed in front of the fire, the way your heart beat in its cage, how light you felt when his arm circled your waist and pressed you against him, how hard it was to watch him go after he walked you back to your tent, without adding another word, how stupid you felt already when you realized what you just did… You sigh and close your eyes, hoping that the sleep will make you feel lighter again.

Arthur curses as soon as the light breeze hits his damp shirt… He feels stupid, a heavy weight on his chest leading him directly back to his tent instead of joining the others.

As he sits on his cot, he wonders why he didn't take the opportunity to taste your lips once again, despite how he’s been dying to do so for weeks now, he wonders if it would be too selfish, too foolish to want you.

He doesn’t give himself the time to ponder, the sounds of his spurs echoes through the night again, the sound of Javier’s singing muffled by the noises of the wind moving through the branches leading him back to you.

When the flaps of your tent open again, this time the moonlight lights up your face as you watch Arthur striding through the small tent, bending over your bed to press a single kiss on your warm lips, his hand finding the side of your head, angling you perfectly towards him. You feel like you are floating, the pain erased by the softness of his lips on yours. You open your mouth and welcome his tongue inside, rising from your bed to deepen the kiss.

He doesn’t let you make this moment last, already parting from you, a look of worry covering the fondness in his eyes.

“Arthur” you protest, pouting.

“You need to rest now darling.”

“Okay…” you surrender, smiling as you feel him press a chaste kiss on your forehead.

“I need you to promise me next time you find yourself in any kind of trouble… you come to me alright?”

“Promise” You nod, tears filling your eyes again. You think about what you wanted so desperately to tell him earlier, and now that he came back, now that you got the chance to kiss him again, you aren’t scared anymore.

“Arthur….” You say, voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah?” He murmurs, pushing a strand of hair off your forehead.

“I missed you”

Your heart is pounding in your chest, but the way Arthur’s eyes soften, a little huff of relief escaping his lips, makes you feel like you couldn’t have said it at a better moment.

“I missed you too darlin’” His lips find yours again, and he hopes it is enough to show you just how much he cares about you, how desperate he was to see you again. He slowly parts from you, but before he can step away, you let your hand wander at the back of his neck, caressing his hair, holding him close.

“Promise you’ll be here tomorrow?” You ask, your nose brushing his.

“I promise” Arthur says as he rests his forehead against yours, overwhelmed by your admission, vowing to himself that he’ll never let anything happen to you again, as long as you will let him take care of you.

a/n: thank you so muche for reading, comments and reblogs are always making my day! <3

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