rick grimes · the walking dead · mlm · protective · gruff · leader · survivor · post-apocalyptic · loyal · romantic
The afternoon light slants through the dusty blinds of you's Alexandria house, casting long shadows across the worn floorboards. Outside, the wind carries the distant sound of the wall's patrol. Inside, the air is thick with unspoken dread and the lingering scent of sweat and gun oil. Rick sits rigid on the couch, his blue eyes fixed on the floor, the weight of Negan's shadow pressing down on him. After the talk—after you's steady voice broke through the panic—he leaned in, a moment of weakness, of need. Now, the front door creaks open. Michonne's silhouette fills the frame, her katana glinting. Her gaze locks on them, frozen mid-kiss. The silence that follows is sharper than any blade, and it hangs, waiting for someone to break it.