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Joel knew he fucked up the moment he saw that clock hit 12. The drive from his work was excruciatingly longer than usual. He thought maybe flowers could help ease some of your anger, just barely, but that was enough to make him feel a little less guilty. He drove to several different gas stations after noting that every grocery and florist store was indefinitely closed for the night.
He was lucky to find one gas station that had bouquets. They were a bit pricey but he disregarded that fact, putting his stinginess aside and picked out your favorite kind. He promised he’d be home early tonight, and he broke that. Money was the least of his worries in that moment. He quickly drove home, and upon arriving rushed inside.
—
You sit up in bed and sigh at the sight of him, in complete disbelief. His eye bags more visible than ever, his clothes dirty and wrinkled, but he had still managed to remove his boots before coming up the stairs knowing how much you hate dirty shoes into the house.
He walks up to you holding a bouquet of roses, his breathing a bit heavy to show that he hurriedly climbed the stairs. “Happy Anniversary” he spoke gently with sunken sorry eyes. An expression so guilty yet soft, that it was difficult to remain upset with him. “It’s past midnight Joel. It already passed.” You mutter in a quiet yet sulky tone. Joel runs his hand over his face with a sigh and nods, “I know, I tried everything I could to get out of work baby, I really did” his voice loaded with honestly.
You look down at the flowers with a soft hum, “How did you get flowers this late at night, everything’s closed..” your expression turning a bit more confused as you looked up at Joel awaiting his response.
He simply shakes his head, “Don’t worry about it.” he responds, and you take them from his hands. You sniff them and look up at him more intently, realizing that he must have gone through even more hell today just to get flowers at nearly 1 in the morning. Just for you. You place the flowers down on your nightstand and hold your hand out to Joel. “Com’ere” you whisper.
Joel’s body is hesitant, “M’sweaty, I’ll go wash up first-“
“I don’t care” you say, this time it didn’t matter.
With that he climbs into bed and lays in your arms, you hugged him tight as he buried his face into your neck kissing it gently. “I’m sorry baby.. I really fucked up tonight” he mumbled against your skin. You shut your eyes and hush him, “Shh you didn’t.. I appreciate the flowers” you spoke lightly with a forgiving kiss to the top of his head.
Joel sighed at the feeling and continued to pamper your neck and jaw with soft apologetic kisses. His hands rub at your sides as he continues to whisper “I’m sorry”s against your skin, promising that he’ll make it up to you.
Joel knew he fucked up the moment he saw that clock hit 12. The drive from his work was excruciatingly longer than usual. He thought maybe flowers could help ease some of your anger, just barely, but that was enough to make him feel a little less guilty. He drove to several different gas stations after noting that every grocery and florist store was indefinitely closed for the night.
He was lucky to find one gas station that had bouquets. They were a bit pricey but he disregarded that fact, putting his stinginess aside and picked out your favorite kind. He promised he’d be home early tonight, and he broke that. Money was the least of his worries in that moment. He quickly drove home, and upon arriving rushed inside.
—
You sit up in bed and sigh at the sight of him, in complete disbelief. His eye bags more visible than ever, his clothes dirty and wrinkled, but he had still managed to remove his boots before coming up the stairs knowing how much you hate dirty shoes into the house.
He walks up to you holding a bouquet of roses, his breathing a bit heavy to show that he hurriedly climbed the stairs. “Happy Anniversary” he spoke gently with sunken sorry eyes. An expression so guilty yet soft, that it was difficult to remain upset with him. “It’s past midnight Joel. It already passed.” You mutter in a quiet yet sulky tone. Joel runs his hand over his face with a sigh and nods, “I know, I tried everything I could to get out of work baby, I really did” his voice loaded with honestly.
You look down at the flowers with a soft hum, “How did you get flowers this late at night, everything’s closed..” your expression turning a bit more confused as you looked up at Joel awaiting his response.
He simply shakes his head, “Don’t worry about it.” he responds, and you take them from his hands. You sniff them and look up at him more intently, realizing that he must have gone through even more hell today just to get flowers at nearly 1 in the morning. Just for you. You place the flowers down on your nightstand and hold your hand out to Joel. “Com’ere” you whisper.
Joel’s body is hesitant, “M’sweaty, I’ll go wash up first-“
“I don’t care” you say, this time it didn’t matter.
With that he climbs into bed and lays in your arms, you hugged him tight as he buried his face into your neck kissing it gently. “I’m sorry baby.. I really fucked up tonight” he mumbled against your skin. You shut your eyes and hush him, “Shh you didn’t.. I appreciate the flowers” you spoke lightly with a forgiving kiss to the top of his head.
Joel sighed at the feeling and continued to pamper your neck and jaw with soft apologetic kisses. His hands rub at your sides as he continues to whisper “I’m sorry”s against your skin, promising that he’ll make it up to you.
summary : it was no secret to you that arthur was insecure about his looks. only he didn't expect you to get emotional over it.
cw : sliiight angst (?) but good ending, fluff, arthur is insecure, reader tries to comfort arthur, happens after they made love
credits : got the header from pinterest, i have no clue who the artist is i'm sorry :(
wc : 1.6k (i keep writing short stuff help)
a/n : i doubted posting this at first because i lowkey hate it, but then i remembered the purpose of my blog is to share my writings and not let them rot away so.... here we are. (ó﹏ò｡) i didn't know how to tag this tbh, it isn't too angsty but eh, it's not all fluff either... but anyway. thank you so much for the support on my last post, every note means the whole world to me ♡⸜(˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝
For once, you felt at peace.
In your life as an outlaw, this was a rarity. But all thanks to him, the impendence of an uncertain tomorrow blurs, and whatever turmoil held your heart hostage at the moment instantly faded.
All thanks to Arthur Morgan.
You were laying on his chest, both breathless after an intense lovemaking session that served as stress relief for both of you.
What initially started as friends sticking together through thick and thin soon turned into something more. Something beautiful that none of you were expecting, but welcomed warmly nonetheless.
Well, how could anyone blame you? The man was handsome, and kind. Had the right amount of sass to keep things interesting. You should've known this would be a brew deadly for you; or maybe you were simply in denial to avoid another heartbreak, unnecessary added turmoil.
Your eyes were closed, your expression so peaceful and full of bliss that anyone who saw you would think you ascended to heaven and returned anew. Which you sorta did. All thanks to him.
You feel fingers running through your tangled locks, tenderly reaching for your scalp, scratching it gently.
Oh, how you adored the way his rough hands would soften just for you.
"You okay?"
Another thing you adored about him. How attentive he was, making sure your every need was met.
It was nice, to feel like the center of someone's world. Even more when that same person was the center of yours.
You give him a tired, raspy hum, opening your eyes to see his blue ones already waiting for yours on the other side.
"Mhm... Very okay."
He gave you a soft smile and his chapped lips met your forehead.
"Good..."
You couldn't help the giddy smile that graced your face, an overwhelming surge of affection taking over you.
You keep quietly gazing at him. You often did that, to Arthur's incomprehension.
Don't get him wrong; he absolutely loved studying you, like he would study the next sight that would find itself captured with controlled pencil strokes in his journal. And well, you often were the sight in question.
But him? Why would you admire him as if he had hung the moon, and all the stars, just for you? (Not that he wouldn't have done it if given the chance, but that's besides the point.)
He was confident in many things about himself... his physical appearance though, wasn't one of them.
You'd often tease him about how you'd let him stare at you as long as he wanted, but that he'd often shy away and make you stop when it came to him. Told him it was not fair. To you. To him too.
"You're quite the sight yourself." You'd tell him.
But no matter how many times you'd repeat these words, or use other words to convey the same message— that he was the most handsome outlaw in all of America... that will never even begin to crack his thick skull. Just like now.
You noticed a faint rosy color bloom on his cheeks before he pulled you closer, hiding your face in his chest so you couldn't see him anymore, so you wouldn't realize how much of an effect your unabashedly loving gaze had on him. That didn't please you though. Your mumbled words come out muffled.
"Arthur... wanna see you."
"You've seen me plenty enough, darlin'."
You try to lift your head from his chest but his grip felt like iron. He tried diverting your attention with words.
"Just lemme hold ya like this. Ain't it nice?"
"Mmm yeah but I wanna be able to look at you too."
"There ain't nothing to see, hun. Same old face, same old me."
His words make you groan. Not of annoyance, but more of exasperation. How could you make him see what you saw? Hell— even you weren't the most confident person but... God. If the way he looked at you didn't make you feel like one of those antique goddesses, muses to many who carefully carved them in stone to preserve their beauty. And in many ways you were his muse.
If, regardless of words, Arthur didn't see himself through your eyes, doesn't that mean you're failing your duty as a lover? Do you not make him feel beautiful enough? Are your words empty echoes your actions do not mirror?
Your mind was actively searching for a reason why, a pout adorning your lips and the usual peace in your eyes troubled.
Your silence must have perturbed him because you could've sworn you've never heard his voice sound so small.
"Hey... You mad at me?"
You blink a few times, pulled away from your reflexions and contemplating how to explain how you feel to him instead.
You sit up on your elbow and let your gaze wander down his body; littered with enough scars to scare away your average person. But not you.
"I'm not mad at you... I'm just sad to see you think so unfairly of yourself."
You trace down some faint scars he had on his left rib. Bullet wounds, stabs... He'd seen it all.
"Do you know what I see when I look at you, Arthur?"
He shrugs.
"Some sour-faced idiot?" He attempts to lighten the mood. But your unimpressed glare made it clear he had failed at that.
"No", your gaze drifts back to the old wounds on his side.
"I see a strong man, who's carrying much more than he should."
Your eyes meet his.
"Your body, your scars, your hands, your wrinkles... every possible little thing you could hate about yourself I love with all my being."
You feel Arthur tense up, his body unvoluntarily shifting away from you. He wants to escape this conversation; your words would only mitigate him more on his stance about himself.
His mind screams hate, and your words whisper love. Much softer but all the more powerful.
You shake your head and hold his hand in yours.
"No, you're not escaping this Arthur. Because seeing you loathe yourself tears me apart."
His gaze leaves yours as the realization hit him: you're blaming yourself.
That would explain how sad you'd seem whenever he'd make a self-deprecating joke, or when he'd brush off your compliments about how his new haircut suited him well, or on how nice his new clothes fitted him.
Now all he feels is guilt gnawing at him, reaching for his throat, tightening the hold on it, almost choking him harder than any opponent he'd face ever would. His voice comes out hoarse.
"Sweetheart... y'know I don't mean to hurt you."
You nod and try your best to reign in the emotion that bubbled within you and threatened to spill. But it broke your voice too to hear him sound so pained. You could only manage a whisper as your eyes got glassy.
"I know, baby... I know. It's not your fault... Just wished you'd believe me, y'know? Like I believe you."
The hand of his you were holding starts stroking reassuring circles on the back of your hand. Was it to calm himself? To calm you? Both, probably.
He presses his lips in a thin line as he takes a deep breath, taking a few moments to collect himself.
"... If I had not found you, I know men out there who would fight themselves to death just to have ya. Can't say the same 'bout me. I was lucky enough to experience this at all-"
"Stop it, Arthur. You say that as if you were some... some monster!"
"Well aren't I? Look at me", He shows his bruises as he retorts, "I've killed countless people for God's sake. These ugly scars... they not proof enough for ya?"
You wipe away a tear that had fallen down your cheek without noticing.
"Those scars are a testament to your loyalty... Means you've endured so much yet survived it all."
A soft "tch" escapes him, but the argumentative heat he felt within him died down when he saw how truly affected you were.
He wraps an arm around you and pulls you back to lay against him. His hands, so calloused from his revolver, idly traced shapes on your back.
He felt a tug on his heartstrings when your glossy eyes looked up at him.
"Arthur Morgan, you are no monster and I am no deity of beauty. We're just... We're just us."
He snorts.
"That makes a whole lotta sense darlin'."
"Shut up, smartass", you wipe your nose with the back of your hand, battling the smile that so badly wants to form on your face. "You get what I mean."
"Uh-huh, sure do."
Your glare earns you a chuckle from him.
"Well you will, cause we have some work to do on ya mister. I ain't letting this slide."
You hold him tighter and press a gentle kiss on his cheek, his beard tickling you in the process. So you tickle his ear with a few whispers, each one punctuated with a kiss.
You're beautiful. So handsome. Could stare at you all my life. Can't believe how lucky I've got to be with you. I love you, Arthur.
You feel a new found heat radiating off him, his hands rubbing your sides.
Arthur knew it would take more than a few words and kisses to change his perception of himself. And you knew that too.
But seeing how worked up you've got over it made him realize that he was only hurting the two of you more than anything by being so sour.
It'll take work sure, but he's willing to be more accepting of your words, your unashamed gazes and appreciation. He's willing to open his stubborn mind just a teeny tiny bit.
He's willing to try. For him. But mostly, for you.
And that's all thanks to you.
thank you so much for reading!!! i'm working on a longer nsfw arthur oneshot which hopefully will be my next post, soooo until next time ( ˶˘ ³˘)♡
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would anyone be interested in a country fic where after your father's death, you are forced by your controlling mother into a marriage of convenience with John, a man you barely know and do not love. He has never touched you at all, and despite appearances, you feel like a stranger in your own life—trapped, silenced, and watched. Joel, the man who's building the new home for you and John, notices you. He's older, rough around the edges, and shouldn’t get involved—but he can’t stop thinking about you once you get closer.
At first, Joel tries to keep his distance, but there’s something that keeps him attached to you. The first time you kiss him, it feels like freedom and guilt all at once. You know it’s wrong—you’re married—but Joel makes you feel seen. That kiss is just the start. As things slowly turn into something more—shared looks, stolen moments, the way you both stare a little too long to each other—you both know that if you keep going, it’s going to cost you something big.
What begins as a small affair slowly turns into something that could ruin everything.
— you wake him up since his alarm never does it’s job. “5 more minutes” he groans against your neck, refusing to let go of you despite having to get ready for work.
— you smile as familiar arms wrap securely around your waist, “mm, smells good” his voice rumbles against your neck as he looks at your cooking. he lightly kisses your shoulder, “you spoil me” he hums warmly.
— “where have you been?” he calls out from the couch as you come downstairs. he quickly tugs your arm and pulls you down into his lap. “been watching tv all by myself down here” he huffs and starts to rub your back just the way you like it.
— he listens to you as you rest your head against his chest and tell a story. he brushes a strand of your hair behind your ear which causes you to stop momentarily. “i’m listening darling” he assures while pulling you closer.
— he finally arrives home after a long day at work and slides into bed behind you. “hi beautiful” he whispers into your ear and wraps his arms around you, “m’home” he says while pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.
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— you wake him up since his alarm never does it’s job. “5 more minutes” he groans against your neck, refusing to let go of you despite having to get ready for work.
— you smile as familiar arms wrap securely around your waist, “mm, smells good” his voice rumbles against your neck as he looks at your cooking. he lightly kisses your shoulder, “you spoil me” he hums warmly.
— “where have you been?” he calls out from the couch as you come downstairs. he quickly tugs your arm and pulls you down into his lap. “been watching tv all by myself down here” he huffs and starts to rub your back just the way you like it.
— he listens to you as you rest your head against his chest and tell a story. he brushes a strand of your hair behind your ear which causes you to stop momentarily. “i’m listening darling” he assures while pulling you closer.
— he finally arrives home after a long day at work and slides into bed behind you. “hi beautiful” he whispers into your ear and wraps his arms around you, “m’home” he says while pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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