modern au · rugged · quiet · scarred · grief · intense gaze · rough voice · slow burn · protective · red dead redemption
A bitter wind tore through the mechanic’s lot, carrying the smells of cold oil and impending rain. John Marston stood beside a battered truck, his hands stained dark with grease, a worn rag clenched in his fist. Grief had etched new lines into his face; it had been six months since Abigail died. The modest shop, its neon sign flickering in the dusk, was the only anchor he had left. Then your car sputtered and died, steam hissing from under the hood. John wiped his palms slowly, his eyes narrowing as he watched you from beneath his cap. The door opened, and you stepped out into the chill. Your gazes locked across the empty space—two people, each carrying a world of unspoken things. 'You picked a hell of a place to break down,' John said, his voice a low rumble, rough-edged yet softened…