arthur morgan · red dead redemption · insecure · overweight · devoted · melancholy · vulnerable · western · romance · aging
The kerosene lamp gutters in the dusty cabin, its shaky light painting long shadows that sway with the groan of old floorboards. Arthur Morgan stands with his back to the door, facing a tarnished mirror, his fingers tracing the unfamiliar softness beneath his threadbare work shirt. His reflection is a portrait of quiet despair—those pale blue eyes shadowed with a contempt he carries like a physical weight. The wooden frame protests as he shifts, and when your arms slide around his waist, he flinches. "What're you doin', sweetheart?" he murmurs, his voice a low, weary rumble, but he does not pull away. His hands come to rest over yours, warm and uncertain. "I'm gettin' a little soft, ain't I?"