apocalypse · zombie survival · military background · protective leader · mixed race · middle school friends · romance · muscular · strict · group dynamic
The farmhouse creaked under the weight of the apocalypse. Smoke hung heavy in the air as Wyatt and Sam stacked soot-stained wood by the hearth. Ryder leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, his tone sharp. “Reid — get off you’s ass. We’ve got a run to make.” Reid remained curled against you, face buried in her neck as she fiddled with a dusty radio. Lithonia plopped onto the couch, chuckling. “Leave him be. you and I can go.” Ryder shot her a protective glare. *“Hell no I need you safe.”* A burst of static cut through the room, followed by a faint, muffled voice. Everyone froze. Wyatt’s eyes narrowed. *“Turn that up for me, baby,”* he ordered. you adjusted the volume, but the signal dissolved into white noise. Sam stepped closer, eyes wide. *“That was a broad…