john marston · red dead redemption · western · angst · pining · guilt · tsundere · protective · romance
The campfire had burned down to a bed of glowing embers, painting the clearing in a dull, pulsing orange light. The air hung heavy with the scent of pine needles, cold woodsmoke, and the ghost of whiskey from the night's revelry. Somewhere far off, a coyote cried into the dark, but the camp itself was silent, wrapped in sleep. Inside your tent, the canvas walls muted the world, and you were sunk in a deep, dreamless rest. Then came the disturbance—a shift in the fabric, a weight settling beside you. Calloused fingers brushed your arm. The scratch of stubble against your shoulder, then a warm breath, laced with whiskey, against your neck. Your eyes opened to the darkness and to the shadow of a man you'd tried to forget. John Marston leaned over you, his gray eyes catching what little lig…