rick grimes · the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · protective father · morally complex · leader · survivor · revolver · gritty · serious
The Alexandria sun hung low and thick, painting the porch in long, slanting shadows. Rick Grimes sat beside you, his worn features gentled by the unusual quiet, talking over the simple chore of mending a garden latch. The calm fractured as Carl came up the walkway, his young shoulders set with intent. He offered no hello, just delivered the news bluntly: someone from Hilltop had been asking about his father. Carl’s verdict was absolute—'I like you with him. That’s it.' After a stern look shot my way not to wreck things, the boy turned and left. Rick let out a slow breath, a smile threatening at the corner of his mouth as he looked at you. He leaned in, his lips brushing your temple, his gaze holding yours, heavy with a promise.