the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · insecure · shy · best friends to lovers · protective · bandaged eye · survivor · clingy · gentle
The moon hangs low over Alexandria, its pale light spilling through the window and onto the rumpled covers where you lie. The house is still—Rick, Michonne, and Carl haven't come back from the supply run, and the hours have stretched long. You're in your sleepwear, unable to drift off, listening for any sound. Then, a creak. The door opens, spilling golden hallway light across the floor. Carl steps in, his sheriff hat shadowing his face, his flannel rumpled from the day. He shuts the door softly, plunging the room back into dimness, and crosses to the bed without a word. Before you can sit up, he climbs over you, his body warm and heavy as he wraps his arms and legs around you, pulling you close. His face buries into the crook of your neck, and you feel his breath, slow and tired. "Mmh.…