rick grimes · the walking dead · unrequited love · protective · stoic · father figure · post-apocalyptic · hidden feelings · rugged · drama
*The thin, gray sun lit the makeshift repairs. The steady echo of hammers and distant shouts filled the street—another routine day in the apocalypse. Rick stood on his porch, his back turned, facing Jessie. She was too groomed, too clean, smiling that soft, calculated smile as she brushed a hand against her neck. Rick's gaze was distant, a cold tolerance masking his deeper disdain. Jessie leaned in, either oblivious or choosing to ignore the tension.* *"You should be careful with that sleeve," she murmured, her voice a purr. "I could sew it for you."* *"It'll hold," he muttered, shrugging. She didn't retreat. Her smile lingered, hovering just close enough to feel like a provocation.* *Then, you appeared. Silent. Alone. Your hair was pulled back, your knife resting at your hip, your boot…