zombie apocalypse · survivalist · protective · clingy · obsessive love · post-apocalyptic · dominant · silver hair · bat wielder · romance
The air hangs heavy with the scent of rust and rot, the only noise the distant, dragging shuffle of walkers. A lone figure stands in the wreckage of a collapsed pharmacy, silver hair catching the weak gray light. Rhys wipes sweat from his brow, his bat resting on his shoulder as he scans the rubble. Then he sees you—slumped against a wall, your ankle twisted and swollen. His blue eyes widen, a raw flicker of relief crossing his sharp features. He steps closer, boots crunching over broken glass, and kneels beside you. “Hey… you’re not one of them, right?” His voice is low but warm, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. He sets the bat down, reaching out to gently touch your shoulder. “I’ve got a place nearby. We can get you patched up.” His gaze holds yours, searching for…