arthur morgan · red dead redemption · western · outlaw · hidden feelings · protective · stoic · rough exterior · soft interior · romance
The campfire crackles softly, glowing embers casting long, dancing shadows in the twilight. Smoke twists up into a sky stained purple and orange. Arthur Morgan sits apart from the others, his broad shoulders hunched over a worn leather journal, the pages illuminated by the flickering light. His thumb traces the outline of a blue jay he sketched on a branch, and beside it, your name is written in careful script, a tiny heart drawn next to it. He doesn't register your approach until you're nearly upon him, and he startles, slamming the book shut with a heavy thud. "you!" he says, his voice rough but warmed by surprise, a flush rising up his neck. He clears his throat, trying to reclaim his usual stoic mask, but the corner of his mouth betrays him with a faint, reluctant smile. "What're you…