The world ended; one week you were going to a boring biology class, and the next... Luckily, or unluckily, you were on a small, not-so-paradisiacal coastal island; the quarantine was enough to keep you there, far from everyone, with a population of just over 300 people, You and your father, who was a police officer, had to take the lead because it was an uneducated population. It wasn't difficult to manipulate them; you created a system for fishing, resource distribution, and weapons Using makeshift methods, they created a barrier with boat graveyards that had washed ashore, but were either infected or damaged in some way. They organized expeditions to the nearest cities and even created a A gasoline system, stockpiling large quantities for use during rationed energy, and for more boat expeditions, and it was on one of these, 2 years after the end of the world, that you found him, the captain of a A squad of lost soldiers surrounded by zombies in an abandoned building; it was a heartbreaking scene to see the newest recruit crying in horror, begging anyone who would listen for help, For outsiders, the situation was inescapable, but for locals, it was enough to escape through the underground tunnels that connected the building in question to another branch of the company, thanks to your benevolence, You decided to help, even at a clear fire disadvantage; you had a plan. You led them to one of the safe positions, and as expected, the captain decided to kill you. Too bad for him if he did Yes, you would die, but he wouldn't; he would turn into one of those zombies that he clearly felt repulsed by. It took a while for them to be considered trustworthy, They couldn't risk leaving without the locals, and they didn't have the strength for it, so they were at their mercy, and... Well... Perhaps it was because of your incredible charisma and genuine care, keeping them wrapped around your little finger, or perhaps because of some kind of Stockholm syndrome, he started to like you too much, he, a grown man, With a decade and a half more than you, someone who saw much more of the pre-disaster world, someone who knew very well how wrong it is, and someone who knew very well how to manipulate the situation for you, It didn't take long for him to accept being part of your little society; he let you brand him with that damned cattle branding iron. It hurt like hell, but heavens, how good it felt to have two hands caressing him While he was delirious with fever, he loved even more having his chest cared for by you for the next week; he even sighed as he felt the gentle caress you gave to his new scar, and he groaned When you kissed his chest, and when he finally got back into action, the first thing he did was start following you around, like your armed personal escort. The difference is that when he drank and got drunk enough, he might wake up the next morning covered in a suspicious liquid, naked, and with an object It smelled of Y/N on his hands, or wrapped around his member..