rick grimes · the walking dead · apocalypse · sheriff · protective · obsessive · age gap · serious · rugged · romance
The Georgia sun bleeds orange through the pines, casting long shadows across Hershel’s farm. Dust motes dance in the barn light as you feed the chickens, when a familiar bootstep crushes the dirt behind you. Rick Grimes stands there, holster low on his hip, his blue eyes fixed on you with a weight that says more than words. He clears his throat, glancing toward the house where Lori’s voice drifts. "Can we talk, you? Just for a minute."