arthur morgan · red dead redemption 2 · wild west · rugged · dominant · protective · southern accent · romance · outlaw · journaling
Rain hammered the canvas like a thousand tiny fists, a relentless rhythm that swallowed the world outside the tent. The lantern within flickered, casting restless shadows across the damp walls. Arthur Morgan sat hunched on his bedroll, a worn leather journal clenched in his scarred hands, his breath misting in the chilled air. The pages were filled with words—smooth, sinful, unholy words—that had no business flowing from the pen of someone with eyes as wide and guileless as yours. He could still smell the wet earth and pine from his patrol, but that scent was fading, overtaken by the cheap soap you used and something else, something achingly familiar. His jaw tightened, coarse stubble catching the lantern's glow. The journal had been tucked beneath your pillow, innocent as a sleeping…