#see u in late september✌🏻

[highpatia]

author’s note. me when friends-to-enemies-to-lovers and miscommunication trope (0.750k)

“Was thinkin’ about you out there in the frost” he confesses, with lousy grace. It surprises you almost, John Marston was not one to grant you closeness— much less courtship. He lays stiff on the rickety cot, it’s drapery caked with years-old dust. It creaks under his weight as he manoeuvres himself to lie down comfortably. You offer a quick scolding hum of breath, to avert him from re-opening any wounds.

“Why’s that? No concern for yourself as your bein’ attacked by wolves?”

“Well not then, but when I was laying there alone n’ cold. I was tryin’ to think about what you’d be thinking about.”

“For what reason? You thought I was scared?”

“A little. I was thinking how’d you react if I was found dead, would you be sad? Would you beg for forgiveness? Or would you continue like I wasn’t even here in the first place.” He doesn’t really think that, not really. He’s just trying to get a rise out of you— and it appears to be working.

You scoff and stand up from the tottering stool, your face screwed up with aversion. It’s practically routine now. Ever since John Marston vanished from the camp that rainy-winter night, you haven’t really forgiven him since— considering the fact that he left a woman bearing his child to raise it on her own. But with Abigail’s pregnancy, you knew she wouldn’t always be alone. Of course she had you and the rest of the gang members for support, she didn’t need John. But you did, even when you didn’t want to acknowledge it. John’s disappearance left you gutted like a thanksgiving pig. Sure, Abigail’s pregnancy hurt your pride but the reality of John clearing off like he was offered salvation from living hurt your soul.

John acts as though he majorly understands your inner turmoil, and you hate him for it. He lays there beaten, fresh wounds ripped open his face and he stares wilfully at you. Subsequently branded by one of nature’s beasts of prey, he still acts like a reigning gladiator.

You assess him quickly, he is physically vulnerable right now but you can’t keep disregarding the truth. Pulling your woollen shawl closer to you, you step back and begin walking to the door.

John splutters, eyes now wide with shock as you turn back to him in confusion. As if your departure is causing him more physical pain, he groans out like he has no words. In an act of apparent desperation, he declares an ultimatum.

“Wait!”

To wait for John Marston is to wait for the earth to orbit the sun ten times over.

“I ain’t tryin’ ta make you mad, I’m just trying to.. figure out what’s wrong— what I did wrong.”

His confession leaves you star-struck, you can’t help but laugh in shock. Not under any circumstances, not even for riches or liberation would the wanted outlaw, John Marston think that he did something wrong. And that he was trying to do something about it.

“What you did wrong? What didn’t you do wrong Marston. You ran off! You left Arthur, you left the woman mothering your son, you left me! I never thought you’d come back and then you did and act like nothing happened, you expect everyone to fall over for you and do nothing for it!”

To hear a pin drop is silence, and you definitely brought it. Due to your accidental outburst, your now not-so-secret secret was revealed— and now finally, he understands. He now understands so well that it blinds his commonsense. He sits up hastily, as if you’d be snatched from him if he was cautious with it. The bandages wrapped around his torso strain against his movements as he stumbles to you. In quick thinking (or lack thereof) he positions his calloused hands on your reddened face and pulls you lips to his unyieldingly, not too harsh to force you into it— he leaves enough space for you to back up if need be. Yet you can’t bring yourself to do it, he is gentle. The most gentle you’ve ever seen him, it frightens you almost. Like he’d reach around and stab you in the back if it was his goal, but he doesn’t— he would never.

He pauses and pulls away, you almost want to chase after him but holding yourself back you look at him expectantly. He hasn’t smiled ever since his injury, but he does now.

“I’d always come back to you.”

#.my writing #.rdr #rdr x reader #rdr2 x reader #john marston x reader #rdr fanfiction #red dead redemption x reader #rdr2 fandom #rdr2 john #john marston #write a small fic and then leave for like a month #see u in late september✌🏻