RDR2 ONESHOTS ;; REQ ➥

𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸? ;; 𝘑𝘔

SUMMARY : You and John got sent to scope out a bank job in a lousy town overnight, Things got quiet and you two get to talking.

WARNINGS : mild smut

RATING : feminine reader

The dry grass rustled, disturbed by the strong winds that beat down on the earth- A storm was cooking up, and John wanted to avoid it.

The horses fussed, not exactly enticed by the occasional bullets of rain dropping down on them. It began pouring, desperately covering yourselves with coats as you two took a dingy abandoned trading post for refuge, horses carefully hidden under the trees. 

You could only hope they didn't flee.

"I told Dutch today was the worst day he could've picked. 𝘐 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮!" John spat, pacing in the small space as his boot knocked over a small box of abandoned postage.

You jumped, brows lifting. You briefly flinched, before sitting down on the counter, legs dangling off the edge as your skirt draped over your legs.

"You know how he is." You tried to reassure through a sigh, eyes heavy as you looked over at him. Your best friend, allegedly. You never actually knew what you two were. Enemies, at times; Friends, perhaps.

John shot you a look, before sitting on the counter beside you, turning so he could look outside. You two didn't have the best view of the bank, but it was good enough. No way in hell were you camping out in that weather.

Couple guards. Nothing too major. Must've been a slow week. 

"We leave first thing in the morning." Your name left his lips quieter then the rest of what he said, which made you look at him. He was already glancing at you. After a moment, he went back to his pacing, and you made refuge on the counter.

Closing the blinds, you set up your bedroll on the counter as a sort of bunk. It wasn't the most comfortable but, hey, beggars can't be choosers.

The sound of rain beating down on the building was the only thing between you and silence. Johns rasped breathing and occasional quiet curses were the only thing you could really pay attention to as you stared up at the moldered ceiling. 

Why was he so much more frustrated this time? Had you said something on the ride here?

You opened your mouth to speak, but hesitated, your hands clasping over your ribs as you shut your mouth again. This led John to staring at you, hands laying out his bedroll on the cleanest part of the floor.

"𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵, Lily liver." He slurred through his childish anger.

You peeked over at him, propping yourself up on your elbows as a soft sigh escaped you.

"Does it matter? You're clearly not in a great mood because of this weather." Your sentence made him stall, expression subtly softening. Though, he didn't prompt you further.

You stared each other down for an uncomfortable amount of time, before you broke the contest by laying on your back again, staring at the ceiling.

An awkward silence swallowed the room, rain beating down on the roof as the two of you minded your own business. John eventually broke it, because lord knows he didn't know how to stay quiet.

"I'm not mad at you, if you're worried about that." He reassured, as reluctant as he sounded. He kept his gaze on his bedroll as his fingers nervously twirled a loose string between his pads.

"I know." You replied, silence wanting to strangle your voice. You felt your cheeks flush, your hand instinctively moving to adjust yourself.

This didn't go unnoticed.

"You alright?" He asked, lifting his head to get a good look at you. At your side profile. That nose. The curve of your lips. He knew he was staring for too long, but what other opportunity was he going to get?

You turned your head to find him looking at you already, a subtle frown managing to creep onto your face. "I feel stupid for thinking we were gonna have a fun time on this job."

He absentmindedly huffed a laugh, before quickly clearing his throat as he realized it wasn't the time to be laughing at you. He mumbled an apology, before scooting closer to the counter and sitting against the base of it, his head just below your shoulder.

"Still could. I have cards in my satchel." He offered, to which you softly chuckled, one of your hands reaching to fix your hair, before dipping down to the necklace that hung around your neck.

"Really? And what'll we play?" You endeared him, smiling as you watched the cobweb on the ceiling grow a little bigger. Why did you feel so warm? Around him of all people?

He felt the tension grow a bit thinner, a smile creeping onto his lips as he began to answer, the amusement level in his voice. "Maybe slap-jack. War?" He curiously prompted, his boots shuffling against the floorboards as his spurs gently jingled.

You lifted yourself up, peeking down at him. The noise of you moving led to him looking up, his smile faltering.

"Maybe... Trash?" You quietly added, slightly tilting your head. It was like he was mesmerized, his breathing sounding quicker than before as he studied your amused expression.

"...Listen," He started, choking on his words as he felt his throat close up. He didn't want it to sound negative, but how was he supposed to say this? In what world does this sound... normal? Casual?

Your smile faded, staring as you waited for him to finish.

"You n' I have been friends a while, Right?" He rumbled, looking to his boots briefly before quickly looking up at you, his expression much more pensive now.

You nodded, remaining silent as you let him speak his mind. You adjusted, crossing your arms as your chin rested on your hands, watching him as he turned to face you good and proper.

"I think of you. Often. More than I should, actually." He slightly babbled, flushing as he nervously laughed, tilting his head down as his adams apple became strained.

"You're a beautiful uhm.. You're real nice." He mumbled, hand running over the back of his neck absentmindedly.

A breath escaped you, studying the back of his head for what felt like hours, before using your hand to tilt his face up, his nose a few millimeters away from yours.

"And what else?" You whispered, your hair obeying gravity as it slightly fell, casting a shadow over him. He felt his lower stomach twist with embarrassment, his hand moving his satchel over his lap, hiding what the proximity did to him.

When he stumbled, you softly laughed, eyes crinkling.

"Come on! Don't make me force it out of you. Keep talking." You said, unable to keep up the serious facade that you always struggled with. He however, didn't change much.

"I like you. Not like-- But, Just, 𝘚𝘩𝘪𝘵, You make it hard for me to talk, Alright?" He blurted, looking you in the eye once again as he watched the amusement drain from your expression, your cheeks glowing that lovely warm undertone as your fingers slipped off of him.

You stared. How could you not? Your best friend just outright confessed his love for you, and you were sat here stunned. Do something, for crying out loud. ANYTHING.

Your neck craned, placing a kiss on his heavily scarred cheek, and then another.

"I like you too, John." You softly whispered, your hand leaving him as you rose and laid back down, studying the spiderweb on the ceiling.

It was bigger then the last time you'd looked at it.