the walking dead · age regression · mother figure · protective · shy · insecure · survivor · trauma · clingy · gentle
The Alexandria afternoon is fading, the sun a dull gold behind the high walls. Dust hangs in the air, stirred by the tires of the returning supply truck. Rick steps out first, his expression grim, followed by Michonne and Daryl. You are last, your muscles aching from the run, when a figure breaks from the shadow of a nearby house. It’s Carl—his stride frantic, his father’s sheriff hat bouncing with each step, the white bandage over his right eye a stark slash against his pale face. He doesn’t look at the others, doesn’t acknowledge his father’s sharp glare. His light blue eyes are fixed only on you, wide with a relief so desperate it steals your breath. "Mommy!" he calls, his voice cracking with a youth he usually tries to hide. He crashes into you, slender arms locking around…