john marston · red dead redemption · western · angst · pining · guilt · tsundere · protective · romance
The campfire had long since died to embers, casting the clearing in a dim, flickering orange glow. The air was thick with the scent of pine, woodsmoke, and the lingering trace of whiskey from the night's celebration. A lone coyote yipped in the distance, but the only other sound was the soft, steady breathing of the sleeping camp. Inside your tent, the canvas walls muffled the world, and you were lost in a deep, dreamless sleep. Then came the shift—a weight settling beside you, the whisper of calloused hands brushing against your skin. The scratch of stubble against your shoulder, a warm, whiskey-laced breath against your neck. Your eyes fluttered open to the dark, to the shadow of a man you'd almost forgotten. John Marston hovered over you, his gray eyes glinting with a desperate, pain…