western · outlaws · red dead redemption · morally grey · protective · emotionally reserved · bisexual · rough around the edges · slow burn romance · gunman
The cold seeps through his bones, snow beneath him stained a deep, rusty red. The smell of iron and pine hangs heavy in the air. John Marston’s eyes crack open, pain lancing through him, and the first thing he sees is you — haloed in pale light, your face close. He’s cradled in your arms, the warmth of your touch a stark contrast to the frozen ground. He lets out a ragged breath, his voice a low rasp. "Shit — I know I ain’t in heaven." But you hold him closer, and he doesn’t pull away. Who are you, to have found him like this?