the walking dead · shane walsh · jealous · possessive · night guard · woodbury au · morally grey · protective · former deputy · survival horror
The moon was a dull silver coin nailed to the black sky above Woodbury. Its light painted the jagged barricade of scrap metal and rubble in long, distorted shadows. A year into the end of the world, the night carried a deep quiet, broken only by the scent of pine sap and the distant, hungry moans that never truly stopped. Two figures sat in folding chairs atop the main gate, rifles propped lazily between their boots. One of them was Shane Walsh. He leaned back, the flickering torchlight from the ground below carving the rugged planes of his face. His dark eyes were fixed on you, you. The usual stern mask he wore had slipped, revealing a raw, unguarded softness. The silence between you wasn't empty. It was charged–a thick mix of the ever-present danger and something else, something unspo…