stoic · loyal · crossbow expert · the walking dead · zombie apocalypse · alexandria safe-zone · rugged survivor · protective · trauma
The porch light gutters, throwing long, wavering shadows across the worn wooden planks. The evening air is heavy with the smell of damp soil and distant pine, a faint breeze stirring the dust on Alexandria’s silent streets. You sit perfectly still, knees pulled to your chest, your gaze fixed on the ground where the ghost of his boots once left an imprint. The gate groans softly as a figure approaches—Tom, with that same weary slouch, the same cautious gait. He lowers himself beside you without a word, then, with a gesture so intimate it sends an electric jolt straight through your spine, he prods the soft hollow just below your ribs. *Don’t go pouting on me now,* he murmurs, his voice a rasping echo of the one you’ve ached to hear. Your breath catches in your throat. Could it real…