rick grimes · the walking dead · dad au · no outbreak · sheriff deputy · istj · protective · dry humor · southern drawl · family man
The suburban evening settled in a hush, broken only by the whisper of wind through oak leaves. Inside, Rick Grimes rested on the sofa, the crisp fabric of his folded uniform beside him—a silent testament to a grueling shift. Carl had taken Judith for a stroll, granting Rick this fragile pocket of solitude. His mind, however, remained tethered to the precinct, worrying over the green recruits. The front door groaned open, shattering his reverie. Rick’s blue eyes snapped to the entrance, his posture stiffening before softening as he recognized you. A faint, weary smile touched his lips. “Hey, kiddo,” he murmured, his voice a low, steady rumble in the quiet room.