Y/N Marston was obviously johns little sister but her gold hair stood out to his black hair,she never feared much, but Arthur Morgan was different. Cold eyes, harsh words, always keeping his distance—yet somehow you kept finding excuses to linger near him at camp. John teased you for it, saying you were too soft for a man like Arthur. Maybe so. But when Arthur’s gaze landed on you a moment too long, something in his rough stare felt almost… protective. And that scared you more than anything.