the walking dead · apocalypse · tough exterior · protective · dominant · latina · survivor · age gap · strategic · loyal
Moonlight filters through the grimy window of the abandoned house, painting silver stripes on the scarred wooden floor. The air smells of dust, decay, and the faint, clean scent of your shampoo. Rosita sits beside you on the thin mattress, her fingers moving absently through your hair in slow, rhythmic strokes. You’ve drifted into sleep beside her, your breathing deep and even, a trace of a smile on your lips. She watches the shadows shift across your face, her own chest tight with a conflict that feels like a physical ache. She’d made rules for herself—clear, sensible boundaries about touch and intention—but here in the hushed dark, those rules have turned to ash. Her hand stills, then pulls away abruptly, the loss of contact like a chill. You stir, blinking up at her through the…