e. @evevelovesvv - Tumblr Blog

Feels like home

summary : you are doing home renovation and can’t stop yourself from working. Arthur helps you slow down. pairing : husband!arthur morgan x wife!reader rating : general word count : 2k warnings : none. It’s fluff. Kissing, mention of a head injury, established relationship. Mentions of the gang crumbling down. It's post canon in my head, no tb. Title inspired by the song Feels like home by Caamp. Arthur pic is mine, the others are from pinterest. English isn’t my first language sorry for any mistakes.

a/n : just a little fluffy fic i wrote back in november to celebrate my baby @thedilfdiaries. Thank you for being so kind and caring and for holding me tight when everything falls apart. I love you forever and always ❤️💙✨🫂 I hope you guys will enjoy it 🥰

The bright light of the sun pierces through the windowsills, the cold wind caressing the side of your cheek gently as you catch your breath, cursing through gritted teeth. You hit your head. Again. While attempting to get the curtains back in their places, the rack fell from the wall.

Arthur told you to wait for him so he could nail them back up there. But you didn’t listen. After finishing the last repairs on the old cupboard at the corner of the room, you stayed admiring your handywork. Almost a week of cleaning and painting and sanding down the wooden floor. It looked pretty now, much better than when you first entered this house. Sleeping downstairs in the kitchen while the multiple coats of paint were drying was definitely worth it. But it just lacked the finishing touches and you were too impatient to wait for your husband to come home from work.

Plopping down on the chair you used to access the ceiling, you exhale a deep sigh, patting your head in search of any sign of blood, or swelling. You find none. Just the dreadful feeling of almost knocking yourself out persisting at the pit of your stomach. You feel dizzy though. And nauseous. And your heart rate doesn’t want to slow down. Maybe you should get downstairs, get a glass of water, and lay on the bed for a minute or two. You’ll get enough time to clean and put everything back in its place before Arthur comes home.

The freshly polished wooden floor creaks underneath your bare feet, the warmth of the fireplace invading the first floor. You take the stairs, left hand firmly gripping the railing. The last thing you want is to fall down the stairs now and let’s be honest you definitely could when you are in such a state of fatigue. It always brings more clumsiness.

But you seriously don’t know how to rest and it has always been a problem for you. You always have to keep yourself busy, a new project to avoid letting your anxiety take control of your brain. It has been sewing, cooking, reading, gardening, cleaning, making endless jars of jam with summer fruits. And now renovating the house you and Arthur bought a couple years ago, after you finally got free from the gang, after Arthur found the strength to cut the ties that were binding him to a certain death.

He promised he would come and find you, the day he dropped you at the train station, a handful of scrunched up dollar bills and a few coins held firmly in the palm of your hands. You pleaded for him to come with you, to give up on this silly plan to try to turn things around, to make Dutch realize his mistake, to save this family. Arthur got off the train before you had the time to get an answer out of him, the feeling of his lips pressing against yours a memory that lived with you until you were able to breathe again, months later, getting out of your job as a saleswoman in a new kind of department store, based on the same ones they got in Paris. You wrote and wrote and left letters across the country for him to find. But without any answer you started to lose hope. Until that evening when he appeared, right in front of you, standing on the pavement, golden hair shiny under the flickering street lamp, the smell of the first autumn rain filling your nose. You forgot about your umbrella and ran to him, your muddy boots floating in the air as Arthur took you in his arms before pressing a kiss to your lips. “What are you doing here?” You mumbled, tears falling from your eyes. “I promised I would come and find you, didn’t I?” He replied, a smirk on the corner of his mouth as you hugged him tighter, afraid to let him go for even a second, closing your eyes and praying for it to finally be real, and not another dream you always had during these long months. This time it was true.

“What are you doing here?” The words you said in disbelief all those years ago echo through the room as you watch your husband standing in the doorway, brushing the dirt off the sole of his boots and throwing a huge sack of potatoes on the kitchen floor.

“Thought I’ll finish earlier so I could help you with the bedroom darlin’” Arthur says as he brushes past you, kissing the top of your head, right on the spot where the curtain rack hit you. You wince, dodging your head down.

Arthur frowns behind you, wondering if he was too rough.

“What’s the matter with you?” He blurts out, rounding the table’s corner to get a good look at your face. The way he stares at you cuts off all attempts at a lie.

“Hit my head with the curtain thing…” you reply, a defeated exhale escaping your mouth.

Arthur throws his head backwards, as if he was expecting it.

“I know” you simply say, watching him coming back behind you to inspect any damage to your head. He gently pushes the strands away before gesturing for you to untie your hair down.

“Ain’t bleeding. Maybe you should put some ice on it. You could have waited for the first snow” he jokes, his hand sliding down to cup your cheek. “I think you’ll be alright darlin’ but you need to slow down”

“I know… I just…I guess I am not used to… just… lay around and wait for you all day”

“Well…Cant’really blame ya for that, I reckon I’ve never been good at laying around either but… you deserve some rest. I ain’t saying you have to stay seated and be bored all day but you need to take it easy. I don’t want you to exhaust yourself.” Arthur’s eyes scan your face in worry, his thumb brushing your cheek down to your chin.

“Okay. I’ll try to get more rest.” You offer with a soft smile.

“Good” Arthur leans forward to press a kiss on your lips.

“Now come on let’s get it over with this bedroom” you say as you lean away, interrupting his attempt at deepening his kiss with a loud clap of your hands.

“I think you ain’t hearing me out” Arthur sighs, following you closely, his hands seizing you by the waist before you can climb upstairs.

“Arthur!” you protest as he leads you through the dining room, stopping right before the fireplace where your old mattress is set on the floor, the dark orange carpet protruding from under your temporary bed.

“Let’s just… sit down for a moment” Arthur lowers himself down on the floor, and lays on the mattress, taking you by the hand and forcing you to sit next to him.

“We’ve been sitting down enough” you reply as you try to get up.

“Don’t” His arm circles your waist and he pulls you back to his chest.

“It’s not fair Arthur!” You giggle as you feel yourself falling down. Your head rests against his right shoulder, and you nuzzle your face in his neck, pressing a kiss on his stubbled jaw as you settle against him.

“See? It ain’t’ so bad” Arthur sighs, feeling his back relaxing after a hard day of labor.

“Yeah… It ain’t so bad if you lay down next to me” you concede, closing your eyes, lulled by the sound of you and your husband breathing in sync.

You jolt awake an hour later, the sun disappearing silently on the horizon, your body still wrapped in Arthur’s arms, the warm tartan blanket covering you both. You nudge Arthur’s side with your elbow and he slowly stirs awake under you, scratching his beard and stretching his arms above his head.

“I think you should stop running around and exhaust yourself mister Morgan” you joke, your smile mirroring Arthur’s as you vainly attempt to rearrange his hair.

“Yeah… yeah… at least I ain’t clumsy when I am tired”

“No, just grumpy” you retort.

“But this…It won’t get me killed”

“Oooh I beg to differ my dear”

“It ain’t the first time I find you on the verge of passing out after you refuse to take it easy”

“Oh yeah?”

Arthur hums, laying back down as you reposition yourself on the bed, head lying at the center of his chest.

“Remember that day I saved you from being crushed by Pearson’s crates?” He asks, looking down at you with a cocky smirk.

You smile fondly, the memory coming back to your mind as he finishes his sentence.

You had been on cooking duty for a week straight, Pearson having cut his thumb while skinning a deer. He kept barking orders around and you were the only one calm enough to take it on the chin and carry on with your task, that’s why Miss Grimshaw asked you to help him out. Balanced on the side of the wagon, arms up in the air to catch the bag of supplies you were aiming for, you didn’t notice the crate that was about to fall until it hit you right on top of your head, the blow way less intense than expected thanks to Arthur’s arm holding up most of its weight. You remember the embarrassment you felt as you tried your hardest not to cry in front of him, immediately turning around to hide your face from his scrutinizing eyes. You brushed it off, feeling the pain reverberating through your skull, losing balance on your way to your own tent. Arthur was right behind you, arm linked with yours as he guided you through his tent instead and forced you to sit on his cot, and take a deep breath. You let the tears fall freely as he left you to get some ice, and placed it in a cloth, holding it out for you to put on the painful spot. He traded tasks with you for the rest of the day, finishing chopping meat for dinner as you fell asleep in his tent, definitely overworked. You came and found him after you woke up, thanking him with a smile, your hand gently squeezing his, your heart beating loudly in your chest as you realized you were infatuated with the man for a while now, and this new found affection for him would only grow stronger with each passing day. Arthur’s blush would have betrayed him if it wasn’t for the darkness surrounding you both. The next morning, he was surprised to find his clothes neatly folded and the fresh scent of soap filled his nose as he put them on. The type of soap only a fine lady like yourself would use to wash her clothes even in such a wild environment. He said nothing about it but the gesture made his heart melt, and from that moment he knew that he would only be more grateful for your kindness as the two of you started to get closer.

You listen to Arthur recall the same memory from his point of view with a bright smile on your face, chiming in to correct the little exaggerations he adds to get a reaction out of you.

“He had a lot of stuff to carry around for a cook that always did the same sickening recipe” you conclude as you sit up, Arthur moving to do the same behind you.

“I am glad we don’t have to suffer from his cooking skills anymore”

You nod and he helps you up, the two of you standing in the middle of the room staring at the mattress lying unceremoniously on the wooden floor.

“You know what darlin’? Let’s put that mattress back where it belongs” Arthur crouches down to pick up the inert thing and carries it around without any difficulty.

“Wait! Let me help you” you offer, following him upstairs. You have to admit you wouldn't be of any assistance but you had to try; just to see him showing off a little more, his arms muscles bulging through his shirt as he lifts it effortlessly and throws it on the iron wrought bed. You enter the room silently, admiring your husband putting the bed at the center of the wall again, then pushing the dresser back where it is supposed to be.

“There we go” Arthur finally says as he unrolls the carpet at the bottom of the bed and dusts off his hands.

“Perfect” you smile, heart beating faster as you watch him push his hair off his forehead, already moving on to the last task.

“I thought I told you to wait for me” Arthur mumbles, a nail stuck between his lips as he lifts the curtain rack with one hand and puts it back in his place. 4 little hammer hits on the nail’s head later, and the curtains are sliding along the racks without any trouble.

“I wanted it to look all nice and ready for when you’d finish your work” You stand up from the chair and walk to him, your hand sliding along his back as you get on the tip of your toes to kiss his cheek.

“You are even more stubborn than me, woman” he huffs.

“As if it isn’t exactly why you are married to me?” You tease him, fingers dancing on his chest as you start unbuttoning his shirt.

“I gotta confess that’s exactly what makes me crazy about you”. Arthur murmurs before tilting your head up and kissing you passionately.

a/n: thanks so much for reading. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated 🫶🏼

my masterlist | my bestie’s masterlist

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

e.