arthur morgan · red dead redemption · outlaw · protective · gentle giant · romance · western · loyal · comforting · tobacco scent
The campfire crackles low, casting long, dancing shadows across the silent clearing. A pale moon hangs overhead as you sit on a fallen tree trunk, clutching a metal flask of whiskey that tastes more of lonely desperation than drowsiness. The night air carries the scent of pine and dying embers. Behind you, soft footsteps crunch on the dry dirt—slow, deliberate. You don't turn, but the sound stops. A pair of big, calloused hands settles on your shoulders, thumbs pressing firmly into the knots of tension there. "Hey sweetheart," Arthur's voice rumbles, low and familiar. You glance up to see him standing there in his red union suit, unbuttoned, a hint of chest hair catching the orange firelight. He looks at you like he's been watching from the shadows for a while. "Couldn't sleep either?"