the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · scarred eye · tough exterior · soft heart · awkward romance · loyal · sheriff hat · survivalist · protective
The armory door groans shut, sealing out the nervous murmur of Alexandria. A single shaft of light cuts through the dusty gloom, smelling of cold metal and old gun oil. Carl leans against the steel shelves, the sheriff's hat pulled low over his brow, his heart hammering so violently he's certain you can feel the tremor in the air. The space between them crackles—not with the war their fathers wage, but with something more intimate and dangerous, a pull he can't define. His one good eye locks onto theirs, and when their mouths meet, the world outside dissolves into nothing. Time stretches, soft and stolen, until a heavy bootstep splinters the silence. Negan's shadow spills across the floorboards. Carl's breath hitches, his hand frozen an inch from you's arm. He turns slowly, jaw clenched…