Snake Skin | John Marston

God Knows I Tried

First light broke over the camp, rousing everyone from their slumber. Each person had a job to do—everyone except Y/N. She stubbornly refused the duties of cooking and cleaning, tasks she had little patience for. She longed instead to gallop through flower-filled meadows, chasing game, but those dreams felt far out of reach, especially with all eyes watching her.

Ever since Micah's childish outburst, Dutch had grown more wary of her. She could sense his suspicion, but how deep did it run? Not deep enough to threaten her life or expel her from the camp. What was there to suspect, really? She posed no threat to these people she traveled with.

Deep down, Y/N regretted her decision to stay, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she needed to be there for John.

Emerging from her tent, she stretched, stifling a yawn as the others began to stir. She scanned the camp, where faces that seemed so ordinary were wanted outlaws to the outside world. They were mothers, fathers, and children; friends and family. They made everything feel normal, a comforting facade for someone like Y/N, who was perpetually on the run.

As she stood outside her tent, absorbing the morning's tranquility, she spotted Tilly approaching with two steaming cups of coffee. A smile broke across Y/N's face. "Good morning, Miss Jackson."

"Morning, Colter," Tilly replied, extending one of the cups toward her. Y/N accepted it gratefully.

After taking a sip of her coffee, Tilly tilted her head. "Y/N, when was the last time you got a haircut?"

Y/N blinked in surprise, a bit taken aback. "Why do you ask? Does my hair look bad?"

Tilly smiled, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Not at all! I was just thinking, since you've got the law breathing down your neck, it might be wise to change up your look a bit. Maybe get a haircut or pick up some new clothes. I'm tired of being Grimshaw's errand girl like I'm some kind of slave. That witch can take a long walk off a short cliff!"

Y/N chuckled softly and took another sip of her coffee. "I'll think about it."

With a resigned sigh, Tilly departed, leaving Y/N to finish her drink. Once she tossed the empty cup aside, she noticed Charles and Uncle busy grooming their horses, clearly preparing to head out. Determined to find her place within the gang, even if only for a short while, Y/N made her way toward them.

"Good morning, gentlemen," she greeted, a hint of cheer in her voice.

"It is indeed, Y/N. How are you?" Charles replied, adjusting the saddle on his horse.

"I'm good, sure. You two heading out somewhere?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"Mhm. We're off to do some hunting," Uncle chimed in before Charles could respond. "Not that you'd be interested."

Y/N raised an eyebrow at the old man. "Not interested? I'm a damn fine hunter, old man. I've spent my whole life tracking game out there."

"Mornin'," Arthur called as he strolled past the trio, making his way to his horse. He quickly mounted and prepared to leave.

"Where are you off to now, Morgan?" Uncle asked, leaning casually against his horse.

"Business in town. Dutch has a plan in the works involving the wealthy families of Rhodes. He thinks we might be looking at a ticket out of here soon," Arthur explained.

Y/N nodded, glancing around. "Arthur, have you seen John?"

Arthur pointed toward John's tent. "He's usually up by now, but he might still be sleeping. Why don't you go check on him, Y/N?"

With a determined nod, Y/N rushed toward his tent.

"Hey, do we wait for you?" Charles called out as Y/N hurried away from their presence.

"Yes, please!" she replied, giving a thumbs-up as she strode toward John's tent. Just as she was about to push the flap aside, she stopped and cleared her throat. "John? John, are you awake?"

She figured barging in without warning would be rude; they weren't close enough for that kind of intrusion into one another's privacy.

When she received no answer, she cautiously opened the tent flap, peeking inside. There lay a sleeping John Marston, the blanket draped over only half of his body. A smile crept across her face as she watched his back rise and fall with each breath.

She couldn't help but stare. It was the first time she had seen him at such peace; usually, he seemed tense and slightly agitated.

"I'm awake," he murmured suddenly, catching her off guard. She stepped back from the entrance.

"Sorry," she whispered loud enough for him to hear.

"Y/N," he called softly.

Peeking back into the tent, she saw him slowly sit up, gesturing for her to come in. After a moment's hesitation, she bit her lip and stepped inside. The tent flapped shut behind her, and she hesitantly sat down next to John, their shoulders barely brushing against each other. An intense air filled the small space, but they were both good at pretending not to notice.

John yawned and turned to face Y/N without saying another word.

"Good morning, John," she whispered.

He nodded and took a deep breath.

"Arthur said I should check on you. We're heading out soon. Hunting—" Y/N's voice trailed off as she noticed John's hand moving toward her face, its motion deliberate and slow. She felt a shiver run down her spine as his fingers gently caressed her cheek, then glided down to her neck, igniting a warmth within her that she hadn't expected.

Y/N froze at the touch, her body tensing instinctively. That was the last thing John wanted—to make her uncomfortable. His intentions weren't driven by desire but rather by an innocent longing to feel her skin beneath his fingertips, to connect in a way words couldn't convey. In that moment, it became clear to him just how deeply conflicted his feelings for Y/N truly were.

Locking eyes with her, John hesitated, slowly retracting his hand. But Y/N, sensing the fleeting intimacy, grasped his wrist, drawing him closer and minimizing the space that lingered between them. He was momentarily taken aback by her boldness, yet it didn't take long for him to recognize the weight of the moment. Leaning in, he opened his mouth as if to speak, but the words caught in his throat. Y/N closed her eyes, anticipating the connection she had long desired, just as John's lips were inches from hers. Their shared breath hung in the air, electric with possibility, when a sudden rustle outside his tent jolted them back to reality.

"We're gonna leave without you!" Charles called out, his voice booming as he pounded on the side of the tent. The sudden noise made both Y/N and John jump apart, their moment shattered like glass. Y/N's eyes widened in surprise as she glanced at John, who looked equally startled. Without a moment's hesitation, she scrambled out of the tent, her heart racing.

She offered Charles a nervous smile, one that betrayed her as if she'd been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

As they walked back toward Uncle, who was waiting patiently on his horse, Charles eyed her with a mix of curiosity and concern. "Did you wake him up?" he asked, his brow raised.

Y/N shook her head, shaking off the flush that had crept onto her cheeks. "God knows I tried," she replied, her voice light but her mind still reeling from the moment they had just shared.