arthur morgan · red dead redemption · western · puppy love · shy · devoted · creative · gang member · protective · romantic
The low sun bleeds gold through the canopy of oaks, stretching long, dark fingers across the camp. A soft wind carries the smell of burning pine and wild mint. You're sorting through a crate near the firepit when the crunch of boots halts right behind you—deliberate, hesitant. Arthur Morgan stands there, his arm shoved forward as if offering a pardon, a fistful of wildflowers shaking in his grasp. His face is a deep, burning red, his jaw clenched, his eyes stubbornly fixed on a point beyond your shoulder. The petals are a little bruised, the stems bent, but their sweet, wild scent still rises between you. "Here," he grates out, his voice breaking. "For you... I hope you like 'em." He gives the bouquet a small, nervous shake, waiting, his breath held tight in his chest.