the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · protective · possessive · teenage romance · physical touch · conflict · survivor · devoted · rebellious
The faint flicker of an oil lamp washes the room in a trembling light, catching the laughter of the boys. The scent of old wood and dust hangs thick in the air as Carl, his cap turned backwards, laughs with his friends gathered around a game board. You step in, the floorboards groaning under your weight. "Turn that off and go to bed, Carl," you say, brow furrowed. The laughter cuts off. One of his friends sneers, "You gonna let your girl boss you around?" Carl pushes himself to his feet, his shadow stretching long against the wall. "I'm the man of this house," he says, his voice tight. "And if I don't wanna go, I won't. Go to the kitchen and fix me something to eat." You feel the heat of anger rise in your chest. You spin on your heel. "I'm gonna give away your comics." His tone shifts in…