#he carves a space for bison in his home and heart

[deathandnonexistentialdread]

KantBison is too complex for the.plot to handle and in this essay

[skoulsons]

“Joel?”

“Upstairs.”

He started to take up wood carving. He spent a week earnestly making this spare room into something he could use for the hobby. It had enough wall space to hang the guitars he made, and he built some shelves for the wooden animals that didn’t make their way to other random shelves around their downstairs. The closet has enough room for any extra supplies, and the windows offered the perfect amount of natural light for his work.

Ellie entered the room, Joel’s back to her as he softly hummed while working on a new little project. “Hi,” she greeted, coming up behind his chair and peering over his shoulder.

“Hey, baby girl,” he smiled, resting his arms on the table and turning to her. “Goin’ out?”

“Yeah, Dina and Jesse want to meet at the Tipsy Bison for some food.”

Joel nodded, a hesitant smile. He trusted those two, but his heart always dropped to his stomach when he couldn’t see Ellie. Nothing would happen to her as she was just walking three minutes away to the establishment, but he still worried. “Good. Good, I’m glad you’re hanging out with them.” He was. She was making friends. She was bonding with other people. She was laughing again. It was good.

“Joel, I’ll be fine,” she reassured, trying to calm his obvious nerves that always surfaced when she left the house. He breathed in, preparing a response, but she spoke again, kneeling beside his chair to be more level with him. “What’re you working on?”

He smiled proudly. Whether she was genuinely interested or not, he loved these moments with her. Getting to talk about wood carving was nice, too. He lifted the creature up, twisting it back and forth. “A lion. Mane is being a pain in the ass though. Can’t quite get it right.”

“You made a fucking detailed elephant, I think you can manage a lion’s mane.”

“Maybe so, kiddo.” He lifted the knife again to start picking at the mane again.

A minute of silence passed as she watched him tentatively carve away at the lion’s mane. He had everything else down, down to the detail of its paws. She sighed. You should stay. “I should go, they’re probably waiting for me,” she said, using the arm of his chair to push herself up.

“Hey-“ he called, his hand finding hers on the arm of his chair. He dropped the knife, turning towards her. Ellie rolled her eyes and squatted back down beside him.

He grabbed the opposite side of her head, bringing her head close and kissing the hair above her ear. A second one, always. “Be safe,” he whispered into her hair.

If there were around anyone, she’d be way too embarrassed over this. But in the comfort of their home? She relished in it.

“Always,” she promised. She squeezed his hand once, letting go as she pushed herself up completely and headed for the door.

Every damn door in the house creaked, and this one was no exception. She pulled the handle towards herself as she backed out of the room, eyes still on Joel.

“Love you, kiddo,” he called, the creaking of the door abruptly stopping as Ellie paused.

I love you so much. She rested her head against the door briefly, smiling to herself. She sighed again, contentment lingering on her breath. “Love you, too.”

[caelum-in-the-avatarverse]

Katara's still reeling after learning about bloodbending. Aang tries to help. 

~~~

This one's gonna have discussion of how bending can kill people and allusions to death and stuff, just fyi.

Enjoy!

~~~

“Teach me how to heal?”

Katara blinked a few times and looked up at him. It took her a few seconds to focus on his face. “What?”

“Teach me how to heal,” Aang said again, and then he added, “please.”

She blinked again. “Why?”

Because you cried for hours last night. Because you kept apologizing to Yue. Because your hopes were completely shattered. Because I know how badly you wanted to learn Southern-style waterbending. Because one of your greatest heroes turned out to be the worst kind of villain. Because you’ve been staring at a field of fire lilies all afternoon. “You taught me how to fight...for obvious reasons. But...I know I’d prefer healing over fighting. And...I think we both could use it.”

Katara graced him with a weak smile. “Okay,” she said, straightening up. She already looked better at the prospect of a goal - a mission, something to make the world a better place. “Give me your arm.”

Sokka and Toph left them to it and stuck to the other side of their campsite, Sokka drawing out diagrams for sky bison armor while rattling off ideas, and Toph practicing her metalbending and telling Sokka that, as much as her skills were progressing, she would not be able to created mounted arrow-launchers, nor would they be able to train Momo to use them in time.

Katara spent the better part of an hour tracing her finger up and down her and Aang’s bodies, talking about the twelve standard meridians and chi flow and applying waterbending as a conduit. Aang soaked the information up like a sponge, watched Katara sink her focus into healing, and all the ways you could fix a person.

But eventually her words trailed off halfway through an explanation of how waterbending could keep a person’s heart beating, and she stared at her fingers hovering over Aang’s chest. “It’s...not so different, is it?” she whispered.

Aang took her hand in his. “It’s very different, Katara.”

She shook her head. “I just...can’t believe someone would use waterbending for something so evil.”

“I know,” Aang said gently. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s - we’re supposed to be better than the Fire Nation. Waterbending isn’t evil, it’s good.”

“No bending is good or evil,” Aang said. “It just...is.”

“I’ve never seen firebending used for good,” Katara said dryly.

“Kuzon used to make shapes with it,” Aang shrugged. “People, animals. They’d dance around the campfire. It was cute.”

She looked unconvinced.

“Anyone who knows enough about the human body to heal it is also going to know how to hurt it,” Aang said. “Bending is just an ability, it doesn’t have morals. What’s good and evil is people’s choices on how to use it.”

Katara sighed. “I guess I’m just...so used to the idea of fire being the element that causes pain,” she said. “I never thought water…”

Aang hesitated - but she looked so lost, and she’d cried so much last night, and he cared about her so much. He glanced towards Sokka and Toph, saw they were still engrossed in their own conversation, hopefully far enough away that Toph’s hearing wouldn’t pick anything up. He leaned closer to Katara and said, very quietly but all in a rush, “Airbending can be used to suck the breath right out of someone’s lungs.”

It took a moment for it to sink in, but when it did she stared at him, horrified. “...What?”

Aang hunched his shoulders a bit. “Yeah.”

“You can - ”

“I can’t,” he said immediately. “That’s - it’s forbidden, and even if it wasn’t I wouldn’t want to know how! But it’s...definitely possible. There were old stories. Legends.”

She took another moment to process it. “That’s... awful, Aang.”

“Yeah,” he said, and with a rueful grin added, “there’s reasons why we’re pacifists.” If you listen hard enough you can hear every living thing breathing together, Hue had said, back under the banyan-grove tree. The old Swampbender had no idea how true that had been for Air Nomads.

“I’d never heard that about Airbenders,” Katara said.

“It’s not like it was common knowledge,” Aang shrugged. “We didn’t even talk about it amongst ourselves much. I don’t think anyone even actually knew how to do it, just that it was possible.” Maybe a skilled master could have figured it out on their own, but none of them would ever have attempted it. And now there was definitely no one who knew how to do it - maybe no one who even knew it was possible, if Katara’s reaction was anything to go by.

If Aang never said anything about it, maybe no one would ever know again.

Aang had been grieving the loss of his people and the destruction of his culture for months, but if the knowledge of the asphyxiation technique disappeared, it would be one loss he wouldn’t mourn.

“Even knowing it’s possible is scary,” said Katara, who’d bloodbended a whole human fifteen minutes after learning the technique was possible.

“But we didn’t, Katara. We could, but we didn’t. It’s not the power that’s evil, it’s the choices you make in how to use it.”

Katara mulled it over. Eventually, she nodded, and they spent a long, silent moment gazing out over the field of fire lilies. The flowers were just as red and beautiful as they’d been in another field, several islands behind them now. Katara held a hand over the nearest flower, slowly moving her wrist and her fingers, and the lily’s petals opened and closed a few times, it’s leaves shifting in slow wavy motions.

It didn’t whither or dehydrate under her hand, but when she released it, the lily suddenly fell limp to the ground, unable to stand upright anymore, leaves and petals haphazardly splayed. Katara blinked. “I...must have hurt it somehow,” she realized, frowning. “Maybe I burst something inside.”

“It’s okay,” Aang said quickly. “It’s not like you bend plants much.”

“...Yeah,” Katara said after a moment. “You’re right, I don’t.”

At least it wasn’t a person, Aang didn’t say, because now was not the time to bring that up.

“They’re just flowers,” Katara said quietly. Sadly. She stared out at the fire lilies again. The field looked like a massive army of little red soldiers.

They were quiet again, for a little while. On the other side of the camp, Toph was telling Sokka that two horns was enough for Appa and they didn’t need to give him any more on his helmet no matter how cool he claimed it would look. It would not look cool, it would look stupid. She didn’t know much about looks but she knew for a fact she would be able to feel the stupid.

Finally, Katara sighed. “She didn’t even teach me any actual Southern-style waterbending.”

Aang wrapped an arm around her shoulders and thought of the way the nuns raised at the Western Air Temple had been able to walk around on the ceiling, perfectly upside-down with the rest of their home, how they’d laugh at anyone who attempted to mimic them, and how jealously they’d guarded that unique art. “I’m sorry, Katara.”

~~~

Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are appreciated.

Meridians are the paths chi flows through in the body, according to traditional Chinese medicine. I think when Katara attends that healing lesson, the dummy Yugoda is demonstrating on has the meridians carved into it. Also why did no one ever teach Aang healing I think he would've loved it and also I think healing deserves a bit more in-depth exploration as an art. The fantasy genre tends to just treat healing as another thing in the characters' bag of tricks and I'm getting tired of it.

Also I've spent all these years wondering "how did Sokka manage to make armor for Appa they didn't have a forge and we just see him working on it like once but it didn't make sense" and while I was writing this I was like "oh wait Toph can metalbend, duh."

It seriously kills me that Hama doesn't seem to have actually taught Katara any actual Southern Water Tribe techniques. Everything they talked about had to do with Hama learning to survive in the Fire Nation and pulling water from unconventional sources. No moves, techniques, or philosophies. So sad.

Also I kinda headcanon that Hama died very shortly after her arrest of either an aneurysm or a heart attack or something. It was Katara's first time bloodbending and she was under a lot of stress. :( I also don't think that the Gaang is aware of this - I think they high-tailed it out of Hama's village immediately. A bunch of disappeared villagers return home in the middle of the night with the old innkeeper in chains saying she's a witch who controlled them somehow and these strange kids saved them? That would probably launch an investigation, or at the very least a lot of questions, and no one knows Hama and Katara are Waterbenders. Bad enough some of the prisoners probably saw Toph bending her space rock into a key. The Gaang wasn't gonna wait around for someone to poke around the inn and find a flying bison.

Regarding asphyxiation, unfortunately for Aang, there actually is surviving literature regarding that old Airbender tale - a few mentions in anthropological texts, a few recorded bits of folklore, and some Sozin-era anti-Air Nomad propaganda. Fortunately, these records are really only known in academic circles, and even there it's pretty obscure knowledge. So just as long as no well-read martial arts experts with a deep appreciation/obsession over Air Nomad culture suddenly obtain airbending abilities, the knowledge of asphyixiation techniques is safely unusable! :D *cough*gdiZaheer*coughcough*

[arthurmorganuniverse]

A Place For Us

Pairings: Arthur Morgan x F!reader

Word Count: 4,434

Summary: Arthur has let you tag along on his latest hunting trip. Only you’re now caught in a snowstorm and need a way to keep warm. (AKA the ole’ sharing a bed trope)

Warnings: Poorly written smut ahead my friends. Tread carefully. Also, I twist property law to suit my purposes. Law aficionados, look away. 

Notes: Might make this a series of drabbles or something for this particular pair. Like, one about when they go hunt the bison. Might have Arthur get her the white Arabian. Maybe when they get back to the main camp they keep buying stuff to take back to “their” cabin, etc. Let me know if I should! 

You and Arthur had been on the road for several days now hunting down something he called a “Ghost Bison.” While you were excited that he’d asked you to come along, you hadn’t ever traveled this far on horseback before. Your ass felt permanently glued to the saddle and you were exhausted. Not to mention that the skies were looking rather ominous today, dark clouds signaling a storm on the way.

You hadn’t mentioned anything to him, of course, since you didn’t want to mess this up and make it so he’d never invite you along again. The two of you had never really had much of an opportunity to spend time alone together before, and although you were terrified that you’d make a fool of yourself, it had been too good of a chance to waste.

Even so, despite you keeping your complaints to yourself, he still seemed to catch on easily by himself. He stopped and camped regularly enough, making sure you ate and drank plenty and got moments to stretch off of the giant Shire you’d grabbed on the way since it was the only one big enough to handle carting everything back. 

Judging by Arthur’s frequent glances towards the sky, he also was beginning to share your worries about the storm. You were getting closer to where the bison was rumored to be, but finding shelter from the inevitable snowstorm was going to be difficult. Your meager tents were not going to get the job done.

Finally, after yet another full day in the saddle, and with the clouds looming above signaling the snowfall would hit at any moment, the two of you came across a decent looking cabin. To find anyone out this far into the mountains was a miracle, and you just hoped the folks living here would give you shelter without anyone resorting to violence. Hell, you’d even sleep in the small barn off to the side, no arguments. Anything was better than trying to risk the coming storm in the small tents you had.

Arthur silently signaled you to hold back while he walked towards the house. You did as you were told but brought your revolver out just in case. 

“Hello? Anybody home?” Arthur called out as he raised his hands up. “Weapons are away. Just looking for a dry spot to sleep tonight!” The weapons were technically away, although the both of you had your fingers at the ready. 

He rapped on the door, and after a few moments of silence tested the doorknob. It opened easily and he peeked inside, keeping his hand on his holster in case anyone was trying to get the jump on him. Finding nothing, he finally gestured to you to follow. 

You hitch the horse to the porch and walk inside, surprised to find the place looking somewhat decent. It was a little dusty, but the overall appearance of the place was clean and well kept. After poking around in some cupboards, you see that the kitchen is fully stocked, which could be helpful if this wasn’t a trap. After further inspection, you also find a massive bed in one of the rooms, covered in at least four quilts and even some fluffy feather pillows. Both the living room and the bedroom boasted a good sized fireplace as well. All in all, this place seemed almost too good to be true. Where were the owners? 

“You look like you’re thinkin’ what I am, so I’m gonna go take a look around outside, see if I can’t find our host,” Arthur stated as met up with you in the kitchen. “Stay around the cabin and keep your gun handy.” 

“I will. Be careful.” 

Arthur nods and squeezes your shoulder when he passes on his way to the door. He shuts it quietly behind him as you stare vacantly at the space he’d just left. You could still feel the weight of his hand on your shoulder, heavy and comforting. You blush at your stupidity, acting like a little girl just because some fella touched her innocently. Never mind that he’d never touched you before. 

You shake it off and keep your hand on your holster as you wander around the house, taking stock of anything that might be valuable. There wasn’t much, as it seemed whoever lived here was more of a practical soul, even if the everyday things were made to be comfortable. There were no womanly touches to be found, but the person did enjoy plush linens and good sturdy furniture. You’d even found an enormous copper tub in the other room, along with a huge stash of sandalwood soap. You hoped you get a chance to use it, as you hadn’t had a proper wash in four days. There was only one bed in the house, leaving sharing the bed the only option so you would feel better about sleeping next to Arthur if you knew that you at least smelled okay. 

You continue your search, rifling through a little writing desk until you find a series of letters. 

“Well, well. Good to meet you, Elijah Foster,” you mumble as you read the address. You skim through the letters to find any hints of what kind of person lived here, hoping it was someone that Arthur wouldn’t have any trouble dealing with. 

Based on the stack of letters, it was a single man with no family, as he often complained about having to live alone. He mostly wrote back and forth with some friend of his talking about the good ole days and swapping homestead advice. It sounded like he was just an old man. 

You wander towards the back door and poke your head out, listening for anything suspicious. There was nothing more than the usual sounds of nature, which could be both good and bad. Still, you trusted that Arthur could handle himself, so you won’t too worried. Instead, you take note of the chicken coop and large garden that could prove to be handy soon, then head back into the relative safety of the cabin. 

Moments later, Arthur comes in through the back door, blowing into his hands to warm them.

“Found an old fella out near the well. No wounds or nothin’. Was probably doin’ chores and his heart just gave out. I buried him not too far away.” 

You nod and show him the papers you’d found. He quickly glances through them, coming to the same conclusion you did. 

“I’ll go carve his name tomorrow. I want to head back out to this shed I saw on my way back right now. Looked like a smokehouse, so we might find something for supper.” 

“Sounds good. If not, there are lots of things here in the kitchen too. Dear Elijah sure loved his food,” you chuckle, waving Arthur off as he heads back outside. 

With the news that it seemed safe to stay, you let your guard down a little bit, peeling off your filthy jacket and hat. You set them off to the side, wondering if you could convince Arthur to stay long enough to do some laundry. You were sure he needed some clean clothes too. 

Upon inspection, the wooden stove seems in perfect working order and already has a stack of kindling and wood ready to go next to it. You set the kindling inside and light it up, knowing it will take a while to get to a good temperature for even cooking. While the stove warms, you hum and go through the cupboards as you try to figure out what to make for supper. Arthur comes stomping back inside moments later, arms filled with goods and grinning happily. 

“I was right about the meat. He had a whole root cellar going on underground. Found some ham, bacon, and some sort of sausages. The best part is the place was filled with home canned goods and even some fruits and vegetables. Got some peaches and apples, even found some eggs and butter. Figured we could do with a little treat.” 

“We can make all kinds of stuff with that! I am starving right now, so we’ll make something quick. Maybe the sausages and a potato hash? Might have the stuff to make some fry bread with it. Then maybe a cobbler for dessert. We’ll save the bacon for breakfast and make some fried apples too.” 

“If you say so,” Arthurs deadpans and settles all of his finds on the dining room table. 

You quirk an eyebrow at him. “You still don’t believe that I can cook.” 

“Didn’t say that, Miss. Just haven’t seen any evidence to support your claims.” 

You should probably be offended, but a smiling and teasing Arthur was such a rare treat that you could only bring yourself to blush and smile back. 

“I’ll show you. Out of my kitchen, mister. You should get both of the fireplaces going. The chill is really starting to hit this place.” 

“Good idea. I’ll get the tub filled too. Try not to burn my food, woman.” 

“So rude. Now, where did I put that poison?”

Arthur laughs as he heads outside. You focus on cooking while he comes in and out, carrying loads of firewood and huge buckets of water. The poor man was certainly getting a workout today. You were sure he was looking forward to a bath now. 

Dinner was nearly done by the time he joins you in the kitchen, poking his head over your shoulder to look at the cobbler you were putting together. 

“The man sure liked his comforts. That bed is big enough for four. I think the two of us will be plenty comfortable.” 

You were glad he couldn’t see your face, as the reminder of where you’d be sleeping tonight must have made you resemble a tomato. You stick the cobbler in the oven to avoid looking at him and begin to dish out the sausages, potatoes, and bread you’d put together for supper while Arthur continues looking through the cupboards. 

“There must be forty pounds of beans here. Could feed an army. Would be good with some of that bacon.” 

“I am not making you any beans if I’m supposed to be sharing a bed with you, Arthur Morgan.” 

“That’s probably smart thinkin’,” he chuckles, sitting at the dining room table as you set the plates down, along with a pitcher of water he’d pumped earlier. 

You roll your eyes as Arthur playfully makes a big show of sniffing his fork before he takes a bite. Your smile quickly turns smug as his eyes widen. 

“Now why in the hell have I been eating Pearson’s slop if you can cook like this?” 

You giggle and take a bit of your own food, pleased as he starts to dig in with relish. 

“Pearson would never give up his job. Besides, this is pretty simple. Hard to mess up sausages and hash. The real test is my cobbler.” 

Arthur grunts, shoving an entire half a sausage in his mouth as he chews happily. The meal soon became a quiet affair as your hunger caught up with you as well, and the two of you went to work devouring every bit quickly. The cobbler went by just as fast, with Arthur’s moan of delight being compliment enough. 

Once your bellies were full with nary a crumb of leftovers in sight, the both of you leaned back into your chairs, sighing in contentment. 

“Pearson can keep cooking for the rest of them, but I’ll only eat if you cook for me. You’re not gonna let me starve, right? You’ll cook for me again?” Arthur asked as he rubbed his belly, his soft smile sending your insides fluttering.  

“You’re ridiculous. Yes. If we happen to be in camp at the same time and Pearson won’t kill me for using his supplies, I’ll cook for you again.” 

Arthur helps you bring the dishes to the sink and even dries them while you wash. The easy way that the two of you work together makes you feel like you’ve done this millions of times. 

When everything is clean, Arthur heads to the bedroom while you sit down on the sofa near the fire and begin pulling off your boots. They have a couple of new holes after this trip, making you cringe a bit. You’ll have to find a new pair before these fall apart completely. Arthur comes out a few moments later, carrying one of his union shirts. You were very familiar with those shirts, as they were usually fairly tight on him and highlighted his impressive back muscles. 

“Thought you could use something to wear to bed. You can take the bath first.” 

You accept the shirt, knowing the thing will probably reach nearly to your knees and cover you well enough. 

“You sure? You’ve worked hard, so I don’t mind waiting.” 

“Nah, it’s alright. The water will be dirtier for you if I go first. Little thing like you can’t hold much dirt.” 

You snort over your shoulder as you head to the bathing room. “You’d be surprised.” 

You strip quickly once you shut the door behind you, glad that you wouldn’t have to put any of those clothes back on when you were done. Everything you had was filthy. You didn’t even have a clean pair of bloomers to wear. The coals under the tub had kept the water nice and warm, and you sighed as you slid into the blessed comfort. Arthur had even set out a couple of washcloths and a bar of soap on the end table near the tub. 

As you wash the days of grime away, you peer out of the window and see that the snow is finally coming down hard. It’s probably a pretty good guess that the two of you might be snowed in here for a couple days unless Arthur wants to tough it out. You really hope he doesn’t. 

You quickly finish up in the tub, wanting to leave Arthur with plenty of warm water, and dry off, wringing your hair out as best you can. You slip on the shirt and take a little sniff, pleased that it smelled like Arthur. Looking around, you find an unopened container of tooth powder, so you wet a washcloth and do your best. 

You take a deep breath and open the door to find Arthur lounging on the sofa, his boots and hat already off, and he was near to dozing off by the looks of it. He cracks open an eye as you step out, then slowly sits up straight, staring at you wide-eyed as you shyly stand there. 

“It’s all ready for you,” you mumble, the cold air reminding you of just how exposed you are right now. 

Arthur audibly swallows as his gaze travels from your hair drying wildly and loose, to your bare legs, glimpses of your thighs poking from underneath his shirt if you shifted. 

Finally, he clears his throat and picks up the clothes he had handy, holding them in front of his lap as he hurries past you. The door closes behind him without another word. You quirk an eyebrow at the door, then shrug and bank the fire in the main room before heading to the bedroom. 

The bedroom is sufficiently cozy, with the fire a gentle heat now and the windows weatherproofed. You slip under the covers on the right side, knowing Arthur will want to be on the left and closer to the door. After that it’s just a matter of trying to remember to breathe despite how nervous you were. 

You lose track of time and the warmth seeps into your bones, making you drowsy, and you close your eyes for a few moments. Eventually, the gush a cold air hits your face as Arthur enters the room and quickly shuts the door behind him. 

The room is suddenly filled with the scent of sandalwood as the freshly bathed man settles his things around. You can hear him putting his guns on the nightstand before the bed dips a little and the blanket is moved to allow him to slip underneath. 

The bed is big enough that you aren’t touching each other, but you can feel the heat of his skin and he settles onto his back next to you. 

“Night, Arthur.” 

“Night.” 

You nervously listen to his breathing, your heart going crazy being in such an intimate setting with a man and not being allowed to touch. Eventually, you heard him drift off, and allowed yourself to follow soon after. 

~

You were so damn warm. Too warm. The air around you nearly stifling your ability to breathe. Your eyes flutter open and you sleepily look around. It’s barely morning, just a hint of light showing through the window. 

There’s a heavy weight across your back and waist, so you peel the blanket back to peer under. Arthur has molded himself to you during the night, his legs tangled in yours and his arm across your waist. His skin is so unbelievably hot, and you guess that’s what woke you up. Your shirt had been ridden up a little too high for comfort, but at least you weren’t completely exposed. 

This was nice, though. You knew the proper thing to do would be to sneakily climb out of his tangled limbs, but it was so good. It had been a long time since you’d felt this safe and secure. 

Your plan was simply to fall back asleep like this and deal with the awkwardness in the morning. As you closed your eyes and began to let the heaviness of slumber take you over again, it seemed like a great plan. 

Until he shifted in his sleep, pulling your hips closer to his lap and settling something hard and warm against your backside. 

Suddenly all the blood in your body pooled downstairs, making you throb and dampen as you realize what that is and how close you are to it. 

You slowly peer over your shoulder and see that Arthur is still fast asleep. And apparently having a great dream, judging by the twitching appendage that was being rocked against you ever so slightly. 

You bite your lip and debate stopping him. Waking him up and acting like nothing was wrong was probably the polite thing. A good girl would even smack him and demand he apologize for acting like an animal even in sleep. 

No one had ever said you were a good girl. 

Your hips seemed to move of their own volition, pressing harder against his erection as his movements sped up. The massive hand that had been gripping onto your waist slowly slid up until it was cradling one of your breasts, somehow gentle with them in sleep. Arthur grunted and pressed his head into your neck, nipping at the skin lightly. 

You couldn’t hold back the moan as Arthur suckled a little harder on your neck, and you felt the jolt as he woke up, stilling almost instantly. 

“...Y/n?” 

He was trying to pull his arm off of you, but you clutched it hard. 

“I’m so sorry. Fuck, I’m just gonna...” Arthur tried to pull away again, but you tugged him closer, peering at him over your shoulder. His breath hitches and you know what he sees. Your lips chewed from trying to keep quiet, hair mussed and bite marks on your neck. Debauched. 

“Arthur, please.” 

He gulps and settles back, letting you bring his hand back up to your breast. 

“You really want this? I don’t think I’ll be able to stop once I start.” 

You hum and wiggle your butt against his erection, pleased to hear his whispered curse. 

“I want this. Want you.” 

You can feel him nod behind you, then he slides his hand slowly down your body, reaching underneath the shirt that was now bunched up to your waist.

“Easy girl, I got you,” Arthur mumbles as his hand reaches your core. 

“Darlin’ you are soaking wet.” 

His fingers part your folds, circling around to gather up your essence on them before slowing slipping one inside. 

“Shit, you are so ready to go. Feel so good. Take one more for me.” 

His hips are slowly grinding into you from behind, betraying how excited he is despite the calmness of his voice. He slowly slides another finger inside as his thumb circles your clit. 

“There’s a good girl,” he groans against your neck. 

You can’t help the little giggle that escapes. 

Arthur props himself up to lean over and look at your face. 

“What is so darn funny? Ain’t polite to laugh while a fellas trying to make you feel good.” 

“I’m sorry, it feels amazing. Really. You’re just so adorable I couldn’t help it.” 

“Adorable?” Arthur crinkles his nose like you’d just insulted him. 

“You talk to me like I’m your horse,” you giggle again, unable to stop it. 

He groans with embarrassment and presses his face back into your neck.

“Just have to make it so you can’t laugh then.” 

He pulls his fingers out, leaving you feeling horribly empty. You can feel him messing around with his own pants, trying to pull and kick them off under the covers. Then he picks up your leg and slings across his hip, his cock now laying heavy against your core. 

He slides it around, coating it before settling it against your opening. 

“Last chance to back out. You sure you want me?” 

“Yes. Do it, please.” 

Arthur slides in embarrassingly easy, grunting and tightening his hold on you as he fully sheathes himself. 

“You are so tight. I’m worried I’m not going to last long,” he mutters as he starts to thrust. 

You are pretty sure you’re not going to last either, because you’d barely started and you could feel your orgasm building up. You could hear how wet you were, every thrust creating an embarrassing squelching sound. He speeds up, his hips slamming into you, and the room is filled with the slaps of skin on skin. You can’t even think anymore, the only sounds you’re capable of making are whining and grunting his name. Arthur leans across your back to kiss and suck on your neck, one of his hands reaching under you to rub your clit.

“You feel so good, darlin’. You’re so tight and wet. And you sound so pretty. Am I making you feel good?”

“Yes! Please, I’m so close!” You moan loudly, thrusting your hips back to meet his.

“Oh god, sweetheart, I’m going to cum soon. I can’t hold off anymore. Cum with me.” He whispers in your ear, biting the lobe, and you let go, screaming his name into the pillow. He thrusts hard three more times and cums with a loud, guttural groan into your neck. You both stay like that, breathing heavily as you come down and he strokes your stomach. After a minute, he finally pulls out, leaving you cringing as you feel yourself spill onto the sheets. 

It’s quiet as you both catch your breath. You can hear Arthur’s heartbeat slowing down as you lay on his chest. You wanted to know what this all meant. If this was just sex for him or if he was sweet on you. You had no idea how to go about asking him without sounding desperate. 

“I can hear you overthinking.” He chuckles into your hair. He leans back and tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“So what’s it gonna be? This a one time thing, or is it more?” 

“I’d like it to be more,” you answer shyly, and he seems pleased with your response as he pulls your closer to him and leans over to peck your lips. 

“Alright. We can do whatever you wanna do. You call the shots here.” 

“Well, I don’t know how smart it is giving me that much power, Arthur Morgan.” 

He chuckles, grabbing a handful of your hair and playing with it. 

“Don’t think I’d mind if it’s you.” 

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence for a few moments before the urge to find the outhouse became too great. After taking care of business and freshening up, you make breakfast while Arthur goes looking through all the papers in old Elijah’s desk. 

“Here, look at this one.” 

You wipe your hands off on the dish towel and hold the paper near the window, seeing that Arthur has found the deed to the property. 

“You know,” Arthur says thoughtfully, rubbing his hand across his beard. “He didn’t have nobody else. It’d be easy as hell to write something up and say he sold it to us. Go to town and have ‘em file it up. It could be ours.” 

You stare at him in wonder. “Really?” 

“Not gonna leave the others in the dust, of course, but we could have a place out here for when we need it. Or to just get away sometimes. Just the two of us.” 

You’re absolutely beaming with you throw yourself at him and he pulls you into a hug, placing a kiss onto the top of your head. 

“A place for us.”