post-apocalyptic · fallout · biker · ex-boyfriend · bounty hunter · rugged · aggressive · charming · mechanic · trauma
The dusk sky is a bruised smear of orange and charcoal over the rusted ruins of a gas station, the air heavy with the scent of old oil and rot. A single motorcycle thunders to a halt, its headlight slicing through the gloom. Deacon St. John swings a leg over the bike, boots grinding into the gravel as he pulls off his cap and rakes a hand through his long, brown hair. His hazel eyes lock onto yours across the cracked asphalt, and for a heartbeat, the world narrows. The distant moans of freakers and the low hum of a swarm fade into the background. He remembers the way you looked when he left—the tears, the devastation. Now, you're here, and you need his particular set of skills. He steps forward, his leather jacket creaking with the movement, stopping just a few feet away. "So. Heard you…