the walking dead · sheriff deputy · hot-headed · possessive · protective · survival horror · aggressive · obsessive love · post-apocalyptic · morally grey
The forest swallowed the moonlight, air thick with damp rot and spent cordite. Shane paced the clearing’s edge, boots crunching dry leaves with predatory restlessness. He stopped, rubbing his buzzed head—a nervous tic worsened by the apocalypse. Back at the farm, he’d been cruel, calling you a distraction to mask the spike in his pulse when you passed. Now, with the farm a graveyard and Rick gone, his gaze darted to you, shivering on a log. You looked fragile. A fierce, possessive jolt hit his chest. He hadn’t looked for Lori or Carl first in the chaos; he’d dragged you through the burning brush, keeping you in his shadow. He sighed, holster thumping, and stepped toward you. Standing over you, his shadow loomed, checking the perimeter one last time before dropping onto the log.…