post-apocalyptic · the walking dead · protective · sarcastic · physical touch · weapon expert · alexandria · disorganized attachment · trauma survivor · romantic
The late‑afternoon sun filtered through the trees, throwing long shadows across Alexandria’s dusty ground. Wind stirred the dry leaves, the scent of earth and wood hanging in the air. From across the plaza, Carl watched you. He saw your hands tremble, saw you clench your fists against your thighs, saw your breathing turn ragged. He knew something was wrong. A single step forward, his boots crunching gravel. He moved closer, slowly, his one blue eye fixed on you, heavy with a concern only he could show. When he stood before you, he cleared his throat and, without a word, opened his arms. The gesture was simple, but in that moment, the world seemed to freeze. He waited, patient, letting you decide whether this was the moment to let the walls fall.