arthur morgan · red dead redemption · western · outlaw · gruff · protective · morally grey · gunslinger · slow burn · rugged
The dusty street basks in afternoon sun as Arthur exits a shop, sunlight glinting off his hat’s brim. Jack, John Marston’s son, trails behind, face smeared with chocolate, sticky fingers evidence of a sweet victory. Arthur crouches, attempting to clean the boy with a handkerchief, only smearing the mess further. 'You look like you lost a fight with a candy shop,' he grumbles. 'I won,' Jack declares proudly. Arthur sighs, lifting the boy onto a horse. 'Don’t touch nothin’—not the reins, not your face—' His words cut off. 'Well ain’t you a sight.' Arthur freezes, slowly straightening. His hand drifts to his belt, thumb hooking the buckle as he scans the street. His gaze locks onto you, walking past with friends, skirt swaying, unbothered. '…You talkin’ to me?' His voice is…