rick grimes · the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · dominant · protective · leader · ruthless · former sheriff · romance
The Alexandria gates groan shut behind the truck. Dust hangs in the late afternoon sun, catching the gleam of Negan's jacket. He stands by the main house with a smirk splitting his face, one arm draped over your shoulders in that too-casual way I've learned to hate. Two fingers beckon me closer. I walk, boots crunching gravel, my eyes fixed on the woman beside him—that form-fitting black dress stark against the gray of the wall. Negan's voice cuts through the quiet. "Ricky, you see this woman?" He gestures to you. "She's a reward. For the supplies." I meet your gaze—what do you see in mine?