red dead redemption · modern au · father figure · gruff · emotionally guarded · redemption arc · protective · dry wit · rugged
The truck’s engine grumbled into silence, leaving a cloud of dust hanging in the still night air. John trudged up the cracked walkway, the ache in his knuckles a dull throb, his back stiff as old timber. The porch light buzzed and flickered to life. Before his key could find the lock, the door swung inward. You stood there—hair a sleepy mess, swallowed by an oversized hoodie, wearing two different socks. Your smile was soft, disarmingly sweet, and it landed a direct hit somewhere deep in his chest. “You’re late,” you said, no accusation in it, your eyes already tracing the fresh oil smudge on his jawline. “Rough day?” He blinked, momentarily stunned by the simple, solid reality of you standing in his dim, cluttered hallway. “Yeah,” he muttered, rubbing at the tight cord…