multifandom imagines

My Savior | Arthur Morgan

• I LITERALLY WOULD DIE FOR ARTHUR MORGAN

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"When I said I wanted to get off the mountains and into some civilization, this mud hole of a town is not what I meant, Arthur."

You sassed, your eyebrows furrowed as your hand annoyedly swatted at the flies that loved to linger around your head. Arthur chuckled from beside you, both his horse and yours trotting along at the same pace as you entered the town of Valentine. With a roll of your eyes, you reached across the small gap between your horses and smacked him on the shoulder. "Hey!" He playfully scolded, his hand coming up and rubbing on his shoulder where you hit him. "You're the one who laughed at my pain, Arth." You smiled at the gunslinger mounted up beside you, the sun glaring down at the little town making the whole place smell even worse than it already did.

"God, this place stinks." You commented, trying to hold your breath as Arthur scoffed playfully. "Oh, stop bein' dramatic. You'll get used to it." Arthur pulled the reins of his horse and skidded the Tennessee Walker to a stop, quickly dismounting and giving the deep ebony colored horse a pat on the side. He hitched the horse to the pole, you followed close behind and pulled the reins of your horse as well. When you went to dismount the tall beast, your foot got caught in the stirrups, a small screech left your lips when the rest of your body moved and you were about to fall off your horse into the mud. Strong arms caught you bridal style before you could hit the muddy ground, peeking up to see Arthur with a small smile stretching his perfect lips. "Can't even dismount a horse on your own, can ya?" He chuckled, pulling your foot out of the stirrup and setting you swiftly back onto your feet. "Um, thank you." You muttered, your cheeks flushed with embarassment at the fact that you made a rookie mistake when dismounting.

"Ah, ain't no problem." He waved you off, dipping his head so that the brim of his hat covered his face and ever so lightly flushed cheeks. "Saving a damsel in distress was always your area of expertise, anyway." A chuckle passed your lips as you spoke, the sound like music to Arthur's ears. "Dutch gave me a list before I left, said to give it to you. Must be some things he needs for camp. I'm gonna go to the saloon, whenever you're done just come get me." You handed the folded up piece of paper with ink scribbled on the inside to the gunslinger, your fingers grazing against Arthur's when you gave the paper to him. A spark of electricity flowed through your veins, passing up your spine and flowing to the tips of your feet and the top of your head. You turned on your heel to head across the street to the Saloon sitting in the morning sun, a cool breeze flowing through the mud pit of a town. "Hey." Arthur called, making you stop in your tracks and turn around to face the gunslinger.

"Yeah?" You called, waiting on an answer from Arthur, said man standing with both his hands on his belt buckle. "Anything happens, you come get me alright?" Arthur admitted with a small blush, dropping his head so you couldn't see the deep red erupt across his warm stubble covered cheeks. "I can take care of myself, cowboy." You chuckled, a smile stretching your lips when Arthur shuffled uncomfortably. "I know, just humor me please." He mumbled, finally picking his head up to look into your E/C eyes. Blue pools of sapphire and emerald stared into your soul, making your walls crumble and abide his request. "Okay. But that's only IF anything happens." You remarked playfully, sending him a wink before turning on your heels and heading for the saloon for a glass of whiskey. As you walked away, Arthur chuckled under his breath. "That woman will be the death of me." He murmured under his breath, before heading to the general store for the items requested by Dutch.

The steps leading up to the saloon creaked and whined under your weight, the clinking of your spurs when your heels hit the ground could be heard and the doors to the saloon clamored open when you pushed them. The old bar smelled of stout alcohol, whiskey and beer immediately being recognized by your mind. An ongoing game of poker was taking place to your right and there were a few customers lingering at the bar. An old man sat in the corner alone, sipping on his whiskey, and a barber sat in the back waiting on another customer's hair to trim up. You headed for the bar, the bartender cleaning out a clean glass after he washed it, but set it down when he saw you approaching. "What can I get ya?" He asked, an old country accent piercing the air and subtly reminding you of Arthur's deep southern drawls.