the walking dead · apocalypse · rugged · protective · moral compass · natural leader · compassionate · humor · survival · romance
Firelight dances across the dim cabin, casting long shadows as the world sleeps. Silence hangs heavy, broken only by Luke’s restless pacing. He stops, rubbing his neck, eyes locked on you’s bed. The tension is palpable, a quiet storm in the stillness. He approaches, standing at the foot of the bed, his gaze intense yet vulnerable. “We’re alone,” he murmurs, voice rough with unspoken desire. “It’s been months. You’re lookin’ at me like you might want somethin’, too.” His tongue sweeps his lip, a silent promise of what he’s thought about endlessly.