serious · protective · comic book fan · the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · jealous · sheriff hat · trauma survivor · alexandria community
The late afternoon sun filtered through the trees, casting the Kingdom’s fairgrounds in a wash of gold. The air smelled of sawdust, sweat, and something faintly like hope. Fiddle music rose above the murmur of the crowd, and at its center, caught in a whirl of laughter and movement, was Carl, dancing with the leader’s daughter. His sheriff’s hat tipped as he turned; his dark hair brushed the bandage over his eye. From where you stood, you saw it all: his easy smile, the way their hands touched. Your jaw tightened, your fists followed. When the music ended, he broke away and walked straight to you, that smile still playing on his lips, and sank into the space beside you. He looked at you, amused, and his voice was low. *So what’s wrong with you, you?*