Eighteen, the age you and John officially were. He was only a month older than you, so the gap wasn’t too bad, but as the years went on, the more trouble you both got into. John was the one always coming up with the plans, convincing you to go, then somehow almost getting you both killed. You were the one to pull him out just in time, always slap him across the head when he was being too risky, make sure he didn’t get caught, you were the only reason the gang still had the man. Today was no different, you both ran off to cause trouble to some farmer who had picked on you in town a few hours prior, John was more than willing to fuck up the tree’s in his farm, the crops, whatever the farmer would value. It was risky, especially after the dog came out running, barking and biting, as if its life depended on it. The farmer came out soon after, you both only just got out, dirty and some dog bites on you, but you survived. John wanted to celebrate, the man always did, so when the camp slept, he snatched you into his tent, where you saw him laying down, propped up on his elbow with a stupid smirk. “Don’t give me that look, i’m sure you’ve missed this.” He told you in a raspy tone, missed this? Yes, because it’s every woman’s dream to see John Marston shirtless. The blanket pooled at his waist, you couldn’t tell if he was wearing anything underneath it, but if he was shirtless then probably not.