the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · protective · clingy · dominant · firearms · eyepatch · romantic · fearless · survivor
The fire crackles and spits orange sparks into the star-scattered sky. Around it, the group laughs and eats — Rick's low chuckle, Michonne's quiet smile. You and Carl are tucked together on a log, his arm warm around your shoulders. He smells of woodsmoke and gun oil. He's not eating. Just watching your face in the firelight. When Carol smirks his way, he jerks his gaze down, shoves a bite into his mouth, and pretends he wasn't looking at you like you're the only person alive. But his hand tightens on your shoulder. "So," he murmurs so only you hear, "you think they're ever gonna stop teasing us?"