Crescent Smile ~ John Marston Story

✽.✫☽ 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝟸𝟶 ☾✫.✽

(Unedited)
Word count: 3905
{Listen while you read?~I recommend Living on the Sand by Colter Wall }
⚠️Smut warning ⚠️
There will be a warning marking the start and end of the smut if wish to not read it then you can skip it

☽✫.✽✦✽.»»——⍟——««.✽✦✽.✫☾

As the sun sank below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the land, their journey towards the city persisted. However, John, with a heart brimming with concern, resolved to halt their progress for the night at a small could barely pass as a shack in Puerto Cuchillo, near Escalera. Because Dixie, sat loosely in her saddle the woman still stained with dirt, dried blood, greyed soot, and her hands still stinging from the splinters that had yet to be removed, she was teetered on the brink of collapse from sheer exhaustion. In a valiant effort to prevent her from a brutal fall from her horse, John himself stumbled off his, sacrificing his own stability to shield her from the unforgiving ground catching her just in time before she made contact.

She had slept through the night and as the morning unfolded, Dixie found herself seated by the tranquil water's edge, her grip on the knife tight. With meticulous care, she ran the blade across her palms, hoping to remove any lingering splinters. Occasional hisses of pain escaped her lips, as the sharp edges of the wood grazed her tender skin as it left. The sound of approaching footsteps startled her, causing her to accidentally nick herself with the blade. She winced sharply and instinctively placed her palm against her mouth, attempting to soothe the pain with her tongue and prevent further bleeding.

"Sorry about that," John grumbled as he settled down beside her.

"It's alright," she replied, pulling her hand away to inspect the wound. It wasn't deep, and the bleeding had already ceased. "See, all better," she said, showing her palms to the man. However, he could clearly see that numerous splinters still remained embedded in her skin.

Shaking his head slightly, he gently took her knife in his hands and carefully plucked the remaining splinters from her palms. As John held the knife in his hands, he focused intently on the task at hand, his brows furrowed in concentration. He delicately maneuvered the blade, using the utmost care to pluck out each remaining splinter from Dixie's palms. His movements were precise and controlled, as if he were performing a delicate surgery.

Dixie watched in awe as he worked, her eyes fixed on his hands. She couldn't help but notice the strength in his fingers, yet how they moved with such tenderness. It was a stark contrast to the roughness she had come to expect from him. She had always known John as a man of few words, someone who rarely showed any outward signs of affection or concern. But in this moment, as he meticulously removed the splinters from her skin, she couldn't help but feel a warmth spreading through her.

With each splinter he plucked out, Dixie's admiration for John grew. She marveled at his patience and the way he seemed to understand her pain without her having to say a word. It was as if he could read her like an open book, knowing exactly what she needed in that moment. She found herself captivated by his gentleness, a side of him she had a feelings was rare for him to express but yet he shows it to her often.

As John finished removing the last splinter, he carefully set the knife aside and looked up at Dixie. His eyes met hers, and for a brief moment, there was a flicker of something unspoken between them. But just as quickly as it appeared, it vanished, replaced by a familiar stoic expression.