Nari

23. She/Her. I'm just out here reblogging fanfic like it was my pre-destined purpose 🤩✨💞 Status: I'm here

[dirtylittlediary]

still alive? - rick grimes

pairing : rick grimes x reader

warnings : angst, swearing, SLIGHT SPOILERS FOR SEASON 9 AND TWD : TWL ( i changed some stuff lmao) !!!!! mentions of smut, some spicy scenes but no smut this time folks (apologies), reader is basically living Michonne's life you think abt it (but with a slight twist) basically pure sap

word count : 8k

summary : Rick and you got married in the middle of an apocalypse- a unconventional scenario, but Rick didn't care. You were his great love after Lori. When a strenuous situation forces him to blow up a bridge with him on it- everyone believes he is dead. For years you live with that truth. But what happens when you find out he isnt ?

a/n : I've been CRAVING a rick and daryl reunion (amc give them back to me) so this is basically this mixed in with x reader ( also this lowk sucks....)

Your husband is dead.

That is the truth you lived with every morning when you open your eyes and blindly reach over to his side of the bed, expecting to find him curled around you, and every night when you closed your eyes and buried your face into the jacket he had left behind, his smell fading with every sleep.

No one warned you it would be so hard. That having to live with the constant reminder that your husband had blown up infront of you would have lasting impacts. That you would be left to raise Judith and Asher- your son whom Rick had never gotten to know- on your own. Well, not entirely on your own. You had Daryl- when he was around- and Michonne, who loved those kids like her own, and not to mention everyone else in Alexandria.

it really does take a village.

Your brother- Aaron- was also helpful. He would take Judith whenever it would get too overwhelming, and he never got uncomfortable when you cried, unlike Daryl who would tense up beside you and apologize for not being able to find Rick's body.

That's another thing that never sat right. His body.

Daryl was out there, day in and day out. For six whole years, searching for his best-friend. And he found nothing.

Nada.

Zilch.

Not even a boot, or his gun. Surely, if he had been blown to bits, you would've found pieces of him.. right ? That thought lives in the back of your mind like a splinter you can’t dig out.

You saw the bridge go up.

You felt the heat on your face.

You heard yourself scream.

But you never saw him die.

There’s a difference.

You tell yourself it doesn’t matter. Fire like that doesn’t leave survivors. Not in this world. Not after everything you’ve already lost. Hope is dangerous. Hope gets people killed.

Still.

Every time the gates creak open, your heart stutters. Every time a distant engine hums on the road beyond Alexandria, you freeze. Every time Daryl comes back from one of his long, silent trips, you search his face before he even dismounts. He always shakes his head.

Six years.

Judith barely remembers the sound of her father’s voice. Sometimes she’ll sit on the porch steps and ask you what he was like before the world fell apart. You tell her he was brave. That he tried. That he loved harder than anyone you’ve ever known.

Asher doesn’t ask. Asher just watches. He has Rick’s eyes. The same sharp blue that misses nothing. The same crease between his brows when he’s thinking too hard. Sometimes he stands with his hands on his hips when he’s frustrated, and it steals the breath from your lungs. Rick never held him. Never counted his fingers. Never felt the weight of him on his chest in the middle of the night. You remember the day you told Rick you were pregnant. The way his entire face softened, like the world hadn’t ended after all. The way he pressed his forehead to yours and whispered,

“We’ll make it. For him.” For him. You press your palm to Asher’s head sometimes when he sleeps, just to ground yourself in the proof that something good survived. But at night, when the house is quiet and the grief creeps in, your mind drifts back to that bridge.

To the way the river swallowed everything.

To the way there was no body.

You try to picture it logically. The explosion. The fall. The current. Maybe he sank. Maybe he was carried miles away. Maybe—Maybe.

You hate that word.

It's late when Eugene bursts through the door. You're sitting on the couch with Judith and Asher, both children curled up in your side as you read them a book, their soft giggles wafting up into the room.

"And, i'll huff, and i'll puff, and i'll-"

Three hard knocks on your door cut you off the, sounds rough and harsh. Judith jerks against you, looking towards the door.

"Mom ? What was that ?" She says, shifting towards her sword. You stop her, grabbing her arm.

"I'm sure it's nothing, baby." You say as you get to your feet, gulping. You move towards the door cautiously when the pounding starts again.

"Please, open the door ! This is a matter of utmost importance and it requires your immediate consultation, Miss Grimes !" You frown, and finally tear open the door.

"Eugene ?" The tall man stands there, his face blotchy and red, his little brain trialing down his back and his shirt clinging to his chest with sweat. The cool night air wafts in through the door, and Eugene half-heartedly waves as Judith and Asher- who are peeking their heads around the corner. "What is it ?" He clasps his hands together, fidgeting.

"I was in the radio room, as one is, trying to fine tune the satellite parts to increase our range and I seem to have haphazardly stumbled into an unknown frequency with which i was able to briefly converse-"

"Cut to the chase, Eugene." You snap, shaking your head. Eugene freezes and he looks down.

"It was Rick." He murmurs, and you squint, unable to hear him.

"What ?"

"It was Rick." He says louder, his eyes staying lodged to the ground.

The world tilts.

It doesn’t spin. It doesn’t crash.

It just… tilts.

Your ears ring, high and sharp, like the moment after the bridge exploded. Like your body is bracing for impact.

“That’s not funny.” Your voice comes out wrong. Too calm. Too thin. Eugene’s eyes snap up, wide and almost offended.

“I would never fabricate such a claim, especially not one of this emotional magnitude.” Behind you, Judith has gone very still. Asher steps closer to your leg. You swallow.

“What did he say?” Eugene drags a shaky breath through his nose.

“The signal was weak. Intermittent. But the voice pattern, cadence, Southern inflection— ninety-three percent probability match.”

“Eugene.” He flinches.

“He said…” Eugene hesitates, like the words themselves are fragile. “He said, ‘This is Rick Grimes. If anyone from Alexandria can hear me… respond.’” Your knees nearly give out. Judith makes a small sound.

“Mom?” You can’t look at her. You can’t look at either of them. Because if this isn’t real— if this is some cruel trick of static and grief and desperate men listening too hard for ghosts— you won’t survive watching their faces fall.

“You’re sure?” you whisper.

“As sure as one can be without a visual confirmation,” Eugene says carefully. “The transmission cut out shortly thereafter. However, I am attempting to reestablish contact as we speak.”Your heart is pounding so hard it feels like it might crack your ribs.

Six years.

Six years of burying him in your mind. Six years of telling your children he died a hero. Six years of waking up alone and forcing yourself not to hope.

You take a step back, bracing your hand against the wall.

“You could be mistaken,” you say, but you’re not talking to Eugene. You’re talking to yourself. “It could be someone else.” You close your eyes. You remember Rick standing in the doorway of this very house, hat tipped back, exhaustion in his eyes but fire in his spine. You remember the way he’d say the name of this place like it was sacred.

Alexandria.

Home.

You open your eyes and look at Eugene.

“Take me to the radio room.”

------

The walk feels endless.

Every step is heavier than the last. The night air is cool, but your skin burns. Daryl appears out of nowhere halfway down the street, like he sensed the shift in the air.

“What’s goin’ on?” he demands. You don’t slow down.

“Eugene made contact.” Daryl goes rigid.

“With who?” His voice is already breaking. You don’t trust yourself to say it. Eugene answers for you.

“Rick Grimes.” The name hangs there. Daryl’s breath leaves him in a sharp exhale, like he’s been punched. Inside the radio room, everything smells like dust and metal and old hope. Daryl is trailing behind you, watching you carefully, as if he's ready to step in the second you break down. Eugene rushes to his equipment, hands flying over switches and dials.

“I’ve kept the frequency isolated to avoid external interception,” he mutters. “We shall attempt a broad call.” He gestures to the microphone. You stare at it. For six years, you’ve spoken to Rick in your head. In the quiet. In the dark. In the space beside you in bed. But this?

This is different.

Your hands are shaking when you reach for it. You press the button. Static crackles, loud and overwhelming. You force your voice to work.

“This is the Alexandria safe zone,” you say, voice shaking despite your effort to steady it. “Rick, if you can hear me, respond.”

Nothing.

Just the low hiss of an unstable frequency. Eugene twists a dial.

“Signal degradation is significant. We appear to be receiving but not transmitting at an equivalent strength.”

“What does that mean?” Daryl demands.

“It means,” Eugene swallows, “he may not be able to hear us.” Your stomach drops.

Then— A crackle. A breath. And his voice. Faint. Distorted. But his.

“…—don’t know if this thing’s workin’…” The world stops. You reach behind you, and Daryl immediately takes your hand, squeezing it softly. “…If anyone from Alexandria can hear me…” Static cuts through, sharp and violent. The sound warps, then clears just enough. “…been moved. North. They call it a relocation initiative.” Your pulse pounds in your ears. Daryl’s hand tightens around you. Rick’s voice comes through again, strained, like he’s speaking low so no one else hears him. “…tried before. Didn’t make it far. They’re stronger than I thought.” The signal wavers. “…If you’re still there… if you’re still alive…” Your knees nearly buckle. He exhales — shaky, exhausted. “…Seattle.” The word hits like a gunshot. Static surges, swallowing the rest.

“Rick!” you shout into the mic. “Rick, we can hear you! We’re here!” But your voice disappears into nothing. More crackling.

Then, faintly—

“…don’t come lookin’… it ain’t safe…” The line screeches. Silence. Dead air.

"No." You gasp. You scramble forward, and Daryl slings his arm around your waist, pulling you backwards as Eugene runs forward. Eugene frantically adjusts knobs.

“Attempting reacquisition— hold, hold—”

"No,no ! Please, he could still be there ! Just let me- Let me talk to him !" You shout.

“Ma’am, I assure you I am exerting maximum technical proficiency—”

“Eugene!” Your voice cracks on his name.

Static hisses. Then nothing. Just empty, merciless silence.

Daryl’s arm tightens around your waist as your legs threaten to give out. “Hey,” he mutters, rough and low near your ear. “Easy.”

Easy.

There is nothing easy about hearing your dead husband’s voice after six years and losing it again in the span of thirty seconds.

Eugene flips another switch, sweat beading at his temple. “The signal has either terminated or moved beyond our current reception range. I am attempting a frequency sweep—” The radio bursts suddenly with a violent shriek of feedback. All three of you freeze. Then—

“…—attle…” It’s barely there. Torn apart by interference. You lunge for the mic again.

“Rick! We’re here! It’s me— it’s—” Daryl winces as the sound fractures into static again. Rick’s voice pushes through one last time, thin and strained, like he’s fighting the air itself.

“…for years…” crackle “…tried to get back…” hiss “…if you can hear this—” The line warps. “…I didn’t stop.” Your breath leaves you in a broken sound. “I didn’t stop.” The words echo in the tiny room.Then— Dead silence. Eugene slowly lowers his hands from the controls.

“It’s gone,” he says quietly. The finality in his voice slices deeper than the static ever could. You stare at the radio like it might breathe again. Like it might crackle back to life and say it was all a mistake.

Nothing.

Just the empty hum of a lost signal. You stare at the speaker like it might breathe again.

He’s alive.

He’s alive.

Daryl exhales like something inside him just broke and healed at the same time.

“He’s alive,” he says roughly, almost to himself. And then he turns to you. "Sweetheart, he's alive." You nod, and break down, launching yourself into his arms. His arms lock around you like if he lets go, you’ll shatter. Years of grief pours out of you in violent waves. Years of waking up alone. Years of telling Judith bedtime stories about a father who wasn’t coming home. Years of pressing your hand to Asher’s chest just to remind yourself something of Rick still existed in the world. And he’s been out there. Trying to get back. Your knees finally give, and Daryl lowers you with him, both of you hitting the floor hard. You clutch at his vest like it’s the only solid thing left in the world. Across the room, Eugene quietly turns off the equipment, giving you space. Even he has tears shining behind his glasses. Daryl clears his throat.

“He’s somewhere in Seattle,” he says. “That’s what he said.”

“Seattle’s far,” You whisper. Yeah. It is. You stand slowly, pulling both of them with you, and look back at the silent radio. Six years ago, you watched your husband disappear in fire. Tonight, you heard him fight through static. You press your palm flat against the table, steadying yourself.

“He told us not to come looking,” Daryl says carefully. You let out a shaky laugh, something fierce flickering beneath the grief.

“He always tells me that.” Daryl studies you. He knows that look. He’s seen it before — on Rick. The stubborn one. The I’ll-burn-the-world-down-for-my-family one.

“What’re you thinkin’?” he asks. You look at Daryl.

“I’m thinking,” you say, voice still fragile but no longer breaking, “that for six years I learned how to live without him.” Your gaze drifts back to the radio. “But I never learned how to stop loving him.” Silence fills the room.

“He’s alive,” you say again, softer now — like you’re testing the words. “And if he’s alive… then I have to bring him home.”Daryl’s jaw tightens. Not in protest. In resolve.

“You’re gonna go,” he says. It’s not a question. You nod.

“Yes.” Seattle is across the country. Seattle is dangerous. Seattle is impossible. But so was surviving six years without him. "And I need you to stay here." You say. Daryl's shoulders tense.

"No. No way-"

"Daryl." You say. "The whisperers are still a threat- and I can't leave Judith and Asher with Aaron if he already has Gracie to take care of. It would be too much." You sniffle, shaking your head. "You're my best-friend, Daryl. You're their uncle. I wouldn't trust anyone else with this." Daryl stares at you like you’ve just shot him.

“No,” he says again, firmer this time. “Ain’t happenin’. I ain’t lettin’ you cross half the damn country alone.”

“You think I want to?” Your voice wavers, but you don’t back down. “You think I want to walk into whatever took him without you at my side?” He doesn’t answer. Because he knows the truth. You step closer.

“The Whisperers are still out there,” you press. “You know that. If something happens here while I’m gone— if Judith or Asher—” Your voice cracks. Daryl’s jaw clenches so tight it trembles.

“You’re the best fighter we’ve got,” you whisper. “And with Michonne gone with Vergil, I have no other option. Daryl, they trust you. Judith listens to you. Asher watches you like you hung the moon. If I take you with me, I leave them exposed.” He looks away, shaking his head.

“This ain’t fair.”

“No,” you agree softly. “It’s not.” For six years, Daryl searched rivers and forests and abandoned highways for a ghost. He carried that guilt like a second skin. You know what this is costing him. But you also know what it will cost if you don’t go.

“He told us not to come looking,” Daryl mutters. You give a broken half-smile.

“He also told me to stay behind when the Saviors attacked.” A breath leaves him, almost a reluctant huff.

“Never did listen.”

“Not when it comes to him.” Silence stretches between you. Eugene clears his throat awkwardly from across the room.

“If I may interject, a journey to Seattle would require considerable logistical planning. Supply caches, mapped routes, potential alliances—”

“I’ll go alone.” you cut in. “Light. Fast.” Daryl’s head snaps back toward you. You step forward and grab Daryl’s hands, forcing him to look at you.

“I need you here,” you say, and this time your voice is steady. “If something goes wrong out there… if I don’t make it back…” His fingers tighten painfully around yours.

“Don’t,” he warns.

“You have to promise me,” you push through. “You protect them. You tell Asher about his dad. You make sure Judith remembers every story.” His eyes shine, furious and wet all at once.

“You ain’t dyin’,” he says roughly.

“Neither is he,” you answer. That hangs in the air. For six years, you thought the story ended on a bridge in flames.

But it didn’t.

It stretched across states. Across silence. Across static.

Seattle.

-----

It was a painful goodbye. Asher clung to your leg as you made sure all your guns were loaded and daggers and knives Michonne had left for you were all safely tucked away, as Judith watched silently from the doorway. Without a word, she walked over to you and gave you her hat- Carl's hat, that was Rick's before him- and your heart gave a tortured squeeze at the thought of being able to bring Carl on this trip with you.

Sweet, kind, Carl.

You kisses her head and hugged Asher, before turning away from Alexandria all together, Daryl standing behind them.

They'll be safe, You told yourself.

At first, you managed to find a car and drive most of the way, but you ran out of fuel and had to go looking. You got caught between a group of fifteen walkers in the gas-station as you were looting for food, and ended up dropping your gas contained on the floor as you made a run for it.

The sound of the gas can hitting the tile floor still echoes in your ears.

Clang.

Then the wet, horrible slosh of fuel spilling out behind you as you sprint for the exit, boots slipping on cracked tile and old blood as you hold onto Carl's hat/

“Shit—” you gasp, shoving through the shattered glass door just as the first walker slams against it from inside the station. Their hands claw through the broken frame. You don’t stop running until your lungs burn like they’re filled with smoke.

Fifteen walkers. Too much to fight your way through alone.

You lost the gas.

You lost the car.

But you didn’t lose yourself.

Yet.

You press your back against the side of the building, chest heaving, heart pounding so violently you can feel it in your throat. Six years of survival taught you something important. Panic gets you killed. You force yourself to breathe.

In.

Out.

Rick used to do this with you. Hands on your shoulders. Slow voice. Calm and steady like he was grounding you to the earth itself.

“You’re still here,” he would say. You close your eyes.

“I’m still here,” you whisper now. You move fast after that. Find another vehicle. Older model truck. Half-burned interior. But it starts on the second try when you hotwire it — something Rick had taught you years ago in case of emergencies. You almost smile at that.

Almost.

The road stretches endlessly north and west. Town names blur together on broken highway signs. You sleep in the truck for short stretches. Never long. Always with your gun resting across your chest. You don’t dream of walkers. You dream of fire. And of Rick’s voice, broken through static:

I didn’t stop.

------

Three weeks into the journey, your contact of the walkie Eugene gave you to speak to your kids has come to a quiet halt. You've gone out of range.

You hit what used to be a military-controlled zone. Or maybe still is. You don’t know until the first warning shot hits the dirt beside your boot when you step out of the truck.

“Stay where you are!” a voice shouts. You freeze. Slowly, carefully, you raise your hands.

“I’m not armed!” you shout back, even though you very much are. “I’m looking for information!” Silence. Then footsteps. Three armed guards emerge from behind abandoned shipping containers. Military-grade gear. One of the guards tilts their head.

“You’re far from home.”

“I’m looking for Seattle.” That gets a reaction. Not visible fear. Not aggression. Recognition.

“You shouldn’t be here,” one of them says quietly. Your stomach tightens. “You’re heading toward the Containment Research Military zone,” one of the guards says, voice low like he’s not sure he should even be saying it out loud. “We just call it the CRM now.” Your stomach tightens. “You don’t go in there unless you have clearance,” another adds. “And even then… people don’t always come back out."

You think about Rick’s voice through static.

“What are they doing there?” you ask. The first guard exhales slowly.

“That depends on who you ask.” He shifts his rifle against his shoulder. “They started as a government survival coalition. Organized cities. Controlled supply chains. Protected large populations.”

“That sounds… good,” you say cautiously. He doesn’t smile.

“Yeah,” he says. “It did. At first.” Silence stretches between you. Then he continues. “Then the disappearances started.” Your blood runs cold. “People who caused problems disappeared,” he explains. “People who resisted authority. People who had skills they wanted. Doctors. Engineers. Survivors who knew how to lead groups.” Your pulse thunders in your ears.

“They call it relocation,” he says. “But nobody outside ever sees where relocated means.” You swallow hard.

“People who go in,” the second guard says quietly, “become assets. Workers. Test subjects. Soldiers, sometimes.” Your stomach turns violently.

“You don’t leave once you’re inside,” the first guard continues. “Not unless they decide you’re useful enough to send somewhere else.”

“Or,” the second guard adds, voice even lower, “unless you’re too dangerous to keep.” The words settle over you like a weight. Rick said they were stronger than he thought. Not stronger than walkers. Stronger than people. You think about how he sounded. Tired. Older. Like someone who had been surviving instead of living.

“What does Seattle have to do with it?” you ask. The first guard hesitates.

“That’s one of their main operational zones now. High population density. Controlled infrastructure. Easier to monitor and contain large groups of survivors.” Your jaw tightens.

“They don’t call it a city anymore,” he says.

“What do they call it?”

“Expansion territory.” Your chest feels tight. Like you can already feel the distance between you and Rick stretching again.

“How do people survive there?” you ask. The guard studies you for a long moment.

“They don’t survive,” he says. “They adapt. Or they disappear.” You nod once. Then you reach into your bag slowly and pull out a ration pack, offering it to them as thanks. They don’t take it immediately.

“Lady,” one of them says quietly, almost respectfully. “You sure you want to go in there alone?” You think of Judith wearing Carl’s hat. Asher sleeping with Rick’s old jacket clutched to his chest. Daryl standing in the doorway, pretending he wasn’t crying when you left. And Rick’s voice.

I didn’t stop.

You straighten your spine.

“Yes.”

-------

You manage to get into Atlanta unscathed- scaling over a wall after covering your truck with foliage to keep it hidden. You move like you were born for this world. Quiet. Efficient. Invisible. The wall around Seattle’s outer perimeter is taller than anything you’ve climbed since the world ended — reinforced concrete, topped with barbed wire and sensor cables that hum faintly in the night air. You study it for a full five minutes before moving. Watch the patrol lights sweep left. Count the seconds between rotations. Three minutes and twelve seconds. Enough time. You sling your bag tighter across your shoulder and move. You don’t rush. You never rush in enemy territory. Rick taught you that. Slow is alive. Fast is dead. You find the drainage pipe first — old infrastructure they never fully replaced. Rusted metal, narrow enough that you have to pull your shoulders in tight to squeeze through. You climb.

Hands burning against rough metal. Boots scraping softly. You pause halfway up when a patrol drone hums closer overhead, its red scanning light sweeping the alley below. You hold completely still. Don’t breathe. Don’t move. Don’t think.

The sound that follows f is a low, rising whine.Then— Alarm sirens. Not walkers. Not random chaos. Systemized. Mechanical. Military. Your blood goes cold. Red lights begin flashing across the skyline, bathing the streets in pulsing emergency glow. You freeze on the rooftop. Then, over the citywide speakers, a voice cuts through the night.

“Attention. Consignee Grimes has escaped.” Your heart stops. The words echo across the buildings like thunder. “All units, secure perimeter. Repeat — Consignee Grimes has escaped.” Your stomach drops violently.

Grimes.

You don’t move at first. You can’t. Because Consignee is not a prisoner name. It’s not a soldier name. It’s a number name. A possession name. Your hands start shaking. Then you’re moving before you even consciously decide to. You slide down fire escapes, jump rooftops, and cut through alleyways toward where the soldiers are converging — toward the outer wall you just crossed. Boots pound pavement somewhere ahead of you. Voices shouting orders. You slow your breathing.

In.

Out.

You follow them. Three CRM soldiers rush down a narrow street, weapons raised, helmets reflecting red emergency light. You keep to the shadows. They’re talking.

“He was scheduled for processing tomorrow—”

“Doesn’t matter. Command wants him alive.” Alive. Your chest tightens painfully. They round a corner near the outer wall — the same section of perimeter you entered through. You see him then. And your world tilts.

Rick is there. Tied with zipties.

One soldier has him pressed against the concrete wall, arm twisted behind his back. Rick is breathing hard, chest rising and falling fast, hair longer, beard thicker, face gaunter than you remember — but his eyes are still burning with that same stubborn fire. He’s still fighting. Even now. Even with three soldiers surrounding him.

“Stop resisting,” one of them snaps. Rick doesn’t answer. Just tries to shift his weight to throw the man off balance. Your vision blurs violently.

You move, without thinking.

Fast.

Silent.

The first soldier never hears you coming. You take him down with a chokehold, twisting sharply until he collapses unconscious against the wall. The second turns too late. Knife out. Quick slash across the inside of his wrist where armor doesn’t protect him. He drops his weapon with a shout of pain. Rick goes still when he realizes someone is fighting beside him. But he can’t see your face yet. The third soldier raises his rifle. You kick it sideways before he can fire. Then slam him into the wall hard enough to knock the wind out of him before driving your elbow into his throat. Not enough to kill. Just enough to disable. You hear the snap of zipties coming apart. The officer collapses, gasping. Silence falls except for the alarm sirens and your own ragged breathing. You shove your boot in his face and he falls unconscious. You stumble backwards, chest heaving.

"Baby ?" Your heart falls out of your chest. You had almost forgotten that he was there, and his voice almost sends you flying towards the floor, relief crashing through you adrenaline filled body. You turn towards him.

Rick is slumped against the wall, clutching his ribs, a confused and pained look on his face. He has a new scar on his nose- likely from a break- and his hair and beard and more tattered with gray than you remember. But it's him.

"Rick." You sigh in relief. You barely have time to think, to move, before he's on you. His arms come crashing around you in a bone breaking- embrace, his head dipping into the crook of your neck, his hands roaming the small of your back and your waist before finding purchase on your ass as you're backed up into a wall. He's shaking, his hands trembling, his breath ragged against your ear. You don't hesitate and wrap your arms around his neck, drawing him in as you reach up on your tiptoes. "You're alive." You manage, throat tight. You hate to admit it, but you had had your doubts. Even after hearing him on that radio- your heart still pulled towards the comfortable truth that you had settled for, and seeing him here, alive and in your arms, wipes out any and all cushiony lie you had built for yourself. There's nothing but the empty- the constant fall into the pit of truth. Rick pulls away from you slightly, his hands drifting up to tangle themselves in your hair as his eyes drink you in.

Rick can't stop his hands from shaking. God, the feeling of your skin beneath his palms is a heavenly feeling, and he has to blink hard to shake the dirty thoughts out of his mind as his thumb drags along your cheek, remembering all the lonely nights he spent- just him and his fist- trying to mimick the softness of your palms around him, but only being met with the harsh callouses on his own.

He missed you. Jesus, he missed you so much. His eyes drift down, searching your stomach, still halfway believing he'll find the baby bump there- as if he hadn't been gone for as long as he knows he was. His lips part as he tries to say something - anything - but he can't find the words. He catches a tear as it falls out of your eye, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

"God, I love you." He manages through his pants, his eyes scanning your face. He's waited years to be able to say that to your face, yet the words seem insignificant and unworthy now as he stares at you.

And then he finally seems to notice the hat on your head, and he swears his knees could give out. His hat- that he had given to Carl and that Carl had given to Judith- sits on the top of your head.

That means Judith is alive, he reminds himself, nodding slowly.

His hand lifts — almost reverent — and his fingers brush the brim of the hat like he’s afraid it might vanish if he touches it too firmly. Sirens flare louder in the distance, reminding both of you that this moment is stolen. Rick straightens slightly, instinct and urgency seeping back into his posture. But his thumb keeps moving against your cheek, like he still needs the contact.

"We have to go." He gasps, looking over his shoulder. "They're going to be on us any second." He mutters. You grab his hand.

"I have a truck- stashed just behind the wall." You say, and he smirks at you.

"Of course you do." You spin in his grip, and his hands land on your waist, helping hoist you up. He presses his hands into your ass as you scale the wall, and he laughs to himself at how normal this feels- like he's helping you get above the the wall back at Alexandria before Negan and everything went wrong. You jump over the wall and he follows suit, landing feet first in the dirt. You jog over to the truck and rip the foliage off, before going to jump in the driver's seat when he beats you to it. You roll your eyes and jog around to the passenger seat, before Rick reverses the car with a screech and you go barreling down the road, leaving Seattle in your rear-view mirror.

----

The ride back to Alexandria is long - but shorter than you'd like it to be. You have so many questions bubbling in your chest, like- How did that blast not kill you ? and, Why the hell did you not come back sooner ?

But all those thoughs go quiet the second his hand reaches over and finds your thigh, hand rough yet gentle as he palms it softly. Tears prick at your eyes as you look down at it, your chest going tight.

His hand.

Solid. Warm. Real.

For six years that seat beside you had been empty. For six years you drove alone. Now his thumb moves slowly against your thigh, like he’s grounding himself the same way you are. Rick keeps his eyes on the road, jaw tight, but his fingers curl slightly — testing, reassuring. The truck barrels down the dark highway, trees blurring past, Seattle’s glow shrinking in the rearview mirror. The further you get, the more the silence inside the cab shifts.

Not awkward.

Heavy.

Full.

You finally look at him properly. He’s thinner. The lines around his eyes deeper. There’s a scar along his jaw you don’t recognize. His knuckles are split and healing wrong. He looks like someone who’s survived too many things alone.

“How?” you ask quietly. He knows what you mean.

“The bridge,” he says, exhaling slowly. “Blast threw me clear. Knocked me out. When I woke up… they were there.”

“CRM.” He nods once.

“They said they were savin’ me. Said the world needed rebuilding.” His jaw tightens. “What they meant was control.” Your stomach twists.

“Why didn’t you come back?” The question slips out softer than you intended. Not accusation. Just ache. Rick’s grip on your thigh tightens slightly.

“I tried,” he says immediately. “God, I tried. First year I fought every chance I got. Escaped twice.” He shakes his head. “They got helicopters. Scouts. Infrastructure. Every time I got close to a perimeter, they’d drag me back.” His voice lowers. “After a while… they stop treatin’ you like a man. You become an asset. A number. A consignee.” Your throat closes. “I never stopped lookin’ for a way out,” he continues. “But I stopped riskin’ it when I realized somethin’.”

“What?”

“If I died tryin’ to escape reckless… I’d never see you again.” Your breath stutters. “So I waited,” he says. “Watched. Learned their routes. Learned their systems. Waited for the right crack.”

“The radio,” you whisper. He nods.

“Found a weak signal tower during a work rotation. Knew it wouldn’t last long. Didn’t even know if it’d reach Virginia.”

“It did.” His eyes flick to you briefly, softening.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “It did.” Silence settles again — but this time it’s different. Not heavy with grief. Heavy with survival. With almost. With what could’ve been lost forever. Your hand slides over his, lacing your fingers through his without hesitation.

“You have a son, by the way. I called him Asher.” you say softly, like you’re still testing the miracle of it. Rick exhales through his nose, shaking his head faintly. His chest goes tight and he bites on the inside of his cheek, gulping.

“Yeah ?" He asks.

"Yeah." You nod. Rick blows out heavily.

"I thought-" he laughs at himself, shaking his head. "I thought maybe he had-" He can't bring himself to finish it. When he was married to Lori, he watched her go through many trials and tribulations before they were finally blessed with Carl. Including once- after her grandma died- where Lori lost their baby due to grief. In his mind, he had assumed the same had happened to you. In no way would he blame you for it- but he stopped hoping to see a child with your face and his eyes running around if he ever made it back.

“He’s gonna be shy at first,” you warn gently. “But once he decides he likes you, he won’t leave your side.” Rick’s mouth twitches.

“Sounds like his mama.” You roll your eyes, but your heart swells painfully.

“And Judith?” he asks, voice smaller now.

“She stepped up,” you say. “More than she should’ve had to. She carries you with her everywhere.” Rick swallows hard.

“I missed too much.”

“You’re here now.” The words hang between you.

-----

The gates of Alexandria rumble slightly as they open, the truck sitting idle on the road. Rick is chewing at his lip- a nervous habit you've analyzed and catalogued in your head more than once. He looks like he’s about to step into a firing line.

“Hey,” you murmur softly. He doesn’t look at you yet. His eyes are locked on the widening gap in the gates.

“What if they—” He swallows. “What if they’re better off without me?” Your heart cracks clean in half.

“Rick Grimes,” you say firmly. That gets his attention. His eyes flick to you, uncertain in a way you haven’t seen since the prison days. “They never stopped waiting,” you tell him. “Not one of them. They all love you so much.” You gulp. "I love you so much." The gates open fully. Inside, it’s early evening. A few people turn at the sound of the engine. Casual at first. Then someone freezes. You see it happen in a ripple.

Recognition.

Confusion.

Shock.

The truck rolls forward slowly. Rick’s breathing has gone shallow.

“Just drive,” you whisper gently. “Let them see you.” He nods stiffly and eases the truck through the entrance. A woman drops the basket she’s holding. A man stumbles backward like he’s seen a ghost.

And then— Judith. She’s standing near the steps of the house. She goes completely still. The hat is no longer on your head — it’s in your lap now — and when Rick sees her, time stops. She’s taller.

Older.

But it’s her.

His little girl.

Rick doesn’t realize he’s stopped the truck until the engine stalls. Judith’s face drains of color.

“Mom?” she calls softly, eyes never leaving the driver’s seat. Rick’s hands are shaking so badly he can barely open the door. You reach across him and kill the engine completely.

“Go,” you whisper. He steps out like the ground might reject him. Judith takes one hesitant step forward. Then another. Her voice breaks.

“Dad?” It’s small. Hopeful. Terrified of being wrong. Rick makes a sound you’ve never heard from him before. Not a sob. Not a laugh. Something in between. Something pulled from the deepest part of him. Judith's face breaks into a smile but then contorts into a sob.

"Dad !" She yells, and you can hear her little boots pounding on the ground as she runs to him. He kneels down to catch her and she collapses into his arms, the force of it making him tip forward- his hand braced on the back of her head to protect her from hitting.

A swarm of deja-vu hits your chest, and you gulp down the sobs threatening to bubble up as you remember how Rick had cradled Carl that day at the quarry. Judith is sobbing into his neck, fingers twisted tight into his shirt like she’s afraid he’ll evaporate if she loosens her grip.

“You were dead!” she cries. “You were— they said— I saw—”

“I know, baby, I know,” Rick chokes, his voice wrecked beyond repair. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He presses his face into her hair and just breathes her in. Like he needs proof. Like he needs oxygen. His shoulders shake once. Twice. You’ve seen Rick cry before. Quietly. Privately. But this— This is different. This is a man breaking under the weight of getting something back he already buried. Judith pulls back just enough to grab his face in both hands. She’s studying him. The gray in his beard. The scar on his nose. The thinner frame.

“You’re real?” she whispers. Rick nods, tears spilling freely now.

“I’m real.” She punches his shoulder.

Hard.

“You left,” she sobs. His face crumples.

“I didn’t mean to.” And then she throws her arms around him again, burying herself against his chest. He lifts her this time — like she’s still small enough to carry — even though she’s grown. He staggers slightly with the weight and laughs through his tears.

“You got heavy,” he manages. Judith sniffles.

“You got old.” That pulls a broken laugh out of him. You finally step closer, unable to stay back any longer. Rick looks up at you over Judith’s shoulder, and the expression on his face nearly undoes you.

Wonder.

Gratitude.

Disbelief.

“She’s taller,” he says softly, like he’s still catching up to reality.

“She wouldn’t stop growing,” you murmur. Movement begins around you. Doors opening. Footsteps approaching. Whispers turning into gasps. But Rick doesn’t look away from Judith. His thumb brushes under her eye, wiping tears away the same way he used to when she was little.

“I thought about you every day,” he tells her. Judith’s lip trembles.

“I talked to you,” she admits. “When I was scared.” Rick closes his eyes briefly at that.

“I heard you,” he whispers. You don’t know if he believes that. But she does. And that’s enough. Judith finally shifts slightly in his arms, and that’s when Rick’s eyes lift past her shoulder. They land on the doorway. On a small boy standing half-hidden behind it.

Dark curls.

Wide blue eyes.

Watching.

Rick freezes.

His breath catches again — softer this time. Quieter. More fragile.

“Asher.” you say gently. "C'mere, baby." The boy moves towards you, crashing into your legs. He doesn't go any further, small fists curled in the fabric of your pants as you run your hands through his curls. He just stares at the man holding his sister. Rick slowly lowers Judith back to her feet but keeps one arm around her shoulders, like he’s anchoring himself. He doesn’t rush forward. Doesn’t overwhelm. He just drops back down to one knee. Eye level.

Rick almost throws up. He's staring at his second-born son, and a realisation hits him so fast he swear he could swoon. Those eyes, that nose, that subtle pout. Not only does he look like Rick..

He looks like Carl.

Like the face he'd drawn over and over for six years but could never get it right.

He looks like the little boy who was supposed to beat this world- and the thought tears him in half.

“Hey,” he says softly, trying to school his voice to be neutral and not the whiny, crying mess he assumed it would be. Asher shifts his weight.

“Mama , is that him?” he asks you quietly. Your throat tightens.

“Yeah, baby. That’s him.” Rick swallows hard.

“I’m your dad,” he says, voice trembling despite every effort to steady it. Asher studies him for a long moment. Then his gaze drifts to the hat in your hand. Then back to Rick.

“You were gone a long time,” he says matter-of-factly. Rick nods.

“Yeah,” he admits. “I was.”

“Why?” The question hits harder than any accusation ever could. Rick doesn’t look away.

“I got hurt,” he says honestly. “And some bad people wouldn’t let me come home.” Asher considers that. Then asks the most important question of all—

“Are you staying now?” Rick’s face breaks all over again. He opens his arms slowly.

“I ain’t goin’ anywhere.” There’s a pause. A breath. And then Asher runs. Small arms wrapping around Rick’s neck. Rick gathers him in like something sacred, one arm still around Judith, the other cradling his son.

And for a moment— It’s just the four of you.

Just for a moment. Because seconds later -

CLANG !

The sound of metal hitting the pavement startles you, and you spin around. Daryl stands there, his motorbike - which he must've been pushing through the streets- lays sprawled at his feet. His chest is heaving, his eyes blown wide behind his hair. Rick is still on his knees, both arms full — Judith clutching his side, Asher wrapped tight around his neck. Daryl is standing ten feet away like he’s seen a ghost claw its way out of the grave. Rick looks up slowly. Their eyes meet.And everything goes quiet.

Six years.

Six years of searching riverbanks. Of tracking footprints that led nowhere. Of sleeping in the woods because he couldn’t stand the thought of giving up. Rick stands slowly, careful not to jostle Asher too much. Judith steps back but keeps hold of his hand. Daryl's eyes snap over to you, quickly giving you a once over to make sure you're not injured, and his chest caves.

"You did it." He breathes, more to you than anyone else. "Y-You found him." Your throat tightens.

“I told you I would,” you whisper. Daryl lets out a broken huff of something that isn’t quite a laugh. His eyes drag back to Rick — slow, disbelieving, hungry for proof. Rick shifts Asher slightly on his hip and steps forward.

“Hey, brother.” That does it. Daryl’s face crumples in a way you’ve never seen before. Not even when the prison fell. Not even when they lost Glenn. This is different. This is something resurrected.

“You sunnuva bitch,” Daryl chokes out. Rick’s mouth twitches despite the tears sitting heavy in his eyes.

“Yeah.” Daryl closes the distance in three long strides and stops just short, like he’s afraid if he touches him, Rick will dissolve. Daryl’s hand comes up fast and grips the back of Rick’s neck, pulling him into a crushing hug — awkward around the kids but fierce all the same. Rick holds him back just as tight.

“I looked,” he says, and there’s something raw in it. Not anger. Not quite relief. Something that’s been festering for years. “Every damn day. I looked.” Rick’s face crumples.

“I know.”

“You don’t know,” Daryl snaps suddenly, emotion ripping through him. “You don’t know what it was like comin’ back without you. Tellin’ her—” He gestures toward you. “Tellin’ the kids.” His voice fractures on the last word.

“I’m sorry,” Rick says, and there’s no pride in it. No leader. No sheriff. Just a man. “I tried to get back. I swear to you I tried.” Daryl’s jaw works. Daryl pulls back abruptly, wiping at his face with the back of his hand like the tears offended him.

“You’re an idiot,” he grumbles. Rick huffs a soft laugh.

“Missed that.” Daryl’s eyes flick to the scar on Rick’s nose. The gray in his beard. The weight he’s lost.

“They do this to you?” he asks, jaw tightening. Rick’s expression darkens just slightly.

“Later,” he says. “We’ll talk later.” Daryl nods once, sharp and protective. Then he looks at you again — really looks at you.

“You okay?” he asks. You nod.

“I’m okay.” His shoulders finally drop a fraction.

“Told you to stay,” he mutters under his breath.

“You never win that argument,” you reply softly. A few more Alexandrians have gathered now, whispering, staring, some openly crying. Rick looks around at the familiar homes, the porch lights, the walls he helped build. He swallows hard.

“This place still standin’?” he asks quietly.

“Because of you,” Daryl answers without hesitation. “Because of what you started.” Rick shakes his head faintly.

“No,” he says, glancing at you. “Because of them.” Judith squeezes his hand tighter. Asher rests his head on Rick’s shoulder like he’s decided this is safe.

And for the first time since that bridge exploded — Rick doesn’t look like a ghost. He looks like a man who found his way back. Daryl bends to pick up his fallen bike, clearing his throat roughly.

“C’mon,” he says gruffly. “You can have your reunions with the rest of 'em later. Aaron and Carol went up to hilltop to check on the Kingdom people settling in-"

"What happened to the kingdom ?" You wince.

"Long story." Rick looks at you one more time — something soft and overwhelmed in his eyes. You step into his side without hesitation. You heart twinges with guilt- you know that later you'll have to tell him. About the Whisperers, Tara and Enid, about the people you've lost...

But for now you just let him be. You let him enjoy these moments of peace, eagerly awaiting everyone else's reactions when they see the right and honourable Rick Grimes- back from the dead.

a/n : this is lowk shit but hey ! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE comment and reblog and PLEASE I cant stress this enough- leave me requests my inspiration and imagination is drying up here

[kunarchist]

This is not shit at all. This is precisely what I needed in a Rick reunion ahhhjj.

[kyrasworldd]

⨾𓍢ִ໋. the lakes pt4

warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, mentions of cannibalism, gore, murder, kidnapping/hostages, whole load of angst w/ fluff, age gap (readers in their early 20s), themes of guilt, paranoia (just the usual rick emotions basically), mentions of other characters (Daryl, Michonne, Glenn etc) , pet names (sweetheart), y/n used, major character death

pairings: rick grimes x gn!reader - s5, ep 3 - 8

word count: 9.2k

songs i listened to while writing: the lakes, illicit affairs, gasoline, knife prty into the void , cigarette duet, this love, Tchaikovsky: swan lake op.20, dagger, nude

a/n: it seems the chapters just keep getting longer and longer each time LOL. I actually finished this so much quicker than i thought but like i said before, i’ll definitely not be as active due to my exams </33 I PROMISE smut is coming I know y'all are sick of me.

moodboard - p1 - p2 - p3

The peace that had been found in the group was gone as soon as it had came. To think you could have one good night in a time like this was a stupid thought anyways.

You stand with your back against one of the frontal pews, arms crossed over to stop yourself from fidgeting as you wait with Michonne, watching over Carl as Rick had intended with baby Judith situated at your hip, just in case anything happened.

At the sound of the door creaking open and footsteps hollowing down the aisle, you turn your head, watching the two siblings and Rick make there way back into the church, Sasha quite obviously making a beeline for the priest. You weren't surprised.

Something wasn’t adding up here. Bob was gone, and so was Daryl and Carol. Since you had came here, you had felt it too… the feeling of being watched. At first, you thought it was paranoia, something your head wast tricking you into believing, not wanting to believe that you were safe here. But, you were right, and there was only one person you could figure to blame for it.

Nothing however could’ve prepared you for what he was about to admit.

You watch in disbelief as he collapses against the alter, deservedly beginning to sob at the admission of the horrendous act that he had committed, the one that had dammed him to hell in the same place he had once provided sanctuary. He had turned his people away, left them to be torn apart at the hands of the walkers, left women and children to die out there. It was nauseating.

‘Jesus christ.’

You can’t help but mutter, the irony of it not coming to your attention as you turn away, holding Judith closer to you as you refrain from lashing out at the man. From the moment you had seen him on that rock, you knew there was something off about him. And this had just proved it.

‘Theres someone outside lying in the grass.’

The alarmed tone that Glenn carries and the infamous whistling you had heard from the terminants, the sound that had drove you to brink of insanity has you turning again, looking around to the others in the group with a sense of fear before moving to check it out.

You lean down at haste, carefully passing the still sleeping Judith into Carl’s arms and telling the boy ‘to stay right here’ in a hush before reaching for your blade and following behind Rick, consequences be dammed.

‘Jesus christ!’

You repeat again, this time a lot more seriously as you take in the sight before you, seeing Bob layed out on the floor with his leg now amputated and sasha wailing for her partner, immediately rushing down to the floor to check he was alive.

Slaying a walker that was making its way towards the group, you catch sight of whats now smeared upon the church’s walls, a large and bloody ‘A’ signifying the return of the terminants, leading you to stumble back slightly at the meaning of the letter.

They’d came back, they’d done this to Bob. You knew that if there was anybody they were going to kill here first, it was most definitely you.

‘get inside!- go!’

Rick shouts from besides you, cocking his gun up and shooting to whoever was hidden within the woods, grabbing you as you stumbled and pulling you back into the church, helping Abraham securely look the doors to make sure that they wouldn’t be getting in anytime soon.

Your breaths quicken from the realisation of what was happening, backing away from the door as rapidly as you could, retreating down the aisle of the church as you stare at the door before you. This couldn’t be happening. You’d fought so hard to get away from them, and now they were back, evidently so with Bob whimpering behind you.

The mention of Gareth’s name from Bob, now awake had you turning on your heel, catching Rick’s eyes as you did and walking over slowly as Bob continued to recount the events.

‘He’s in pain, do we have anything?’

Sasha looks back urgently, moving Bob back to the floor, not wanting him to move anymore than he had too. What the terminants had done to him was terrifying, but they were going to return, and when they did, you were sure they were planning so much worse.

‘Theres pill packets in the back- i’ll go.’

You respond promptly, needing to do anything to put your mind off of the situation, even if it was going into the back to grab some pain killers. Your hands were still shaking as you returned your gun to its holster, turning away from the group as you moved towards the back of the church.

But as Bob pulls down his shirt, revealing a rather nasty bite into his shoulder, you stop, looking back at the group as you stood further away, seeing that the medication was in-fact no longer needed. He was going to die anyway. He’d been bit.

‘Jim lasted almost two days, before we left him.’

Glenn joins the conversation, hushed in the circle as you begin to speak about what exactly you were all going to do about Bob. You knew Sasha wasn't going to let him go, at least not yet. But, it was inhumane to draw it out and let him turn into one of them. Something had to be done.

Before you can speak on the matter, Abraham cuts in, just as he always seems to do.

‘Time for a reality check.’

His voice rings out into the silence, leading you and the rest to turn to him, a small brow lifted as you do, especially with how he was stood to attention in the middle of the aisle, a rifle situated on his front.

‘We all need to leave for DC. Right now.’

‘Daryl and Carol are gonna be back. We’re not going anywhere without them.’

Rick responds, a little unsure before beginning to walk towards the man as you all begin to watch Rosita pack her things, walking towards her partner, readying herself for whatever was to come their way.

‘I respect that, but there's a clear threat here to Eugene. I need to extract his ass before things get any uglier. So if y'all won't come, good luck to ya’.’

‘Are you serious?’

You retaliate, cocking your head towards the man as he speaks before letting out a small scoff and turning away. This was unbelievable. The terminants were coming, and with that you needed him and Rosita to stay, needed all the people you could get to make sure that everybody had a chance of surviving this. After the speech he had given last night, you’d think he’d be the most likely to see that. No, all Abraham cared about was getting Eugene to DC. It was selfish.

‘Serious as can be sweetheart, we’re leavin’.’

On that note, he diverts, making his way towards the door of the church alongside Rosita who would always follow after him, no matter the cause.

‘You leavin’ on foot?’

Rick questions, anger rising as he watches Abraham strut down the aisle, the frustration clear in the way his teeth clench after he speaks, glaring ahead at the back of Abraham.

‘We fixed that damn bus ourselves.’

Abraham matches his tone, his anger also rising as he turns to meet you and the group again, holding the rifle in his hands tighter at his chest, doing nothing but glaring right back at the man as he strides forward.

‘There are a lot more of us.’

‘You wanna keep it that way? You should come.’

He fights back, definitely not one to back down from a fight, especially when it came to Eugene and the matter of DC. But neither was Rick.

‘Carol, saved your life. we saved your life.’

‘Well I am trying to save yours. save everyones!’

His voice rising makes you flinch, looking between the two men with a mix of fear and frustration as they begin to fight. You didn’t need this. You all needed to stick together. This wasn't the way.

‘We’re not going anywhere without our people.’

‘Your people took off.’

‘They’re coming back.’

‘To what? Picked-over bones?!’

Abrahams voice raises again, making you step forward to try and stop what you knew would turn into something a whole lot worse.

But Rick lashes out first, reaching to grab the rifle that Abraham held to try and show some of the authority he had left as leader. But Abraham wasn't having it.

‘Do not lay hands!’

He shouts again, leaving you to stride over quicker, trying to take Rick’s hand to move him away but he shrugs you off, not even turning to see who had tried to stop him. He knew it had to be you, but he wasn’t going to let Abraham walk out of that door, not tonight, not when you all needed him.

‘Hey. Hey. Stop! Now!’

Glenn steps in for you, breaking the two men up, looking between them both before stepping closer to Abraham, knowing if he had to get through to one of them right now, it was him.

‘Do you really think you're gonna be any safer leaving right now, in the middle of the night?’

He asks, staring up at the man who's breaths quicken with the anger he's feeling, still glaring right at Rick who does the same, the two men still seething with the events that had just played out.

‘Yeah.’

He responds instantly, turning his head down towards Glenn and nodding to himself, a little shaky in his movements as he grips his rifle precariously, looking from Glenn to Rick before nodding again and repeating his words more definitively.

‘What about tomorrow? We need eachother for this. We need each other to get to DC.’

Glenn begins to plead, stepping closer to the man as he steps away, looking towards his partner before back at Glenn, weighing up the options he had been given in his head.

‘I have an idea.’

Tara steps forward, looking from you and Rick to Abraham and Glenn, a little shy but meaning what she has to say.

‘If you stay just one more day and help, I'll go with you to DC. No matter what. Okay?’

She looks back, meeting your eyes to which you nod, thanking her quietly for her help. But Abraham has to ruin it.

‘Glenn and Maggie too.’

Rick is quick to respond, immediately shutting Abraham down to nobody's surprise and making you sigh, turning away from him and walking down the aisle to lean against one of the pews. returning to where you had been before, letting them figure it out for themselves.

‘Eugene, let’s go.’

Abraham calls out, lifting your head up from where you stood to the man who sat across from you, looking rather depressed for somebody who was about to save the world.

‘Eugene. Move it.’

‘I don’t want to.’

‘Now.’

He doesn’t put up an argument, stepping up from his seat in the row and moving towards Abraham, stepping past Rick and Glenn as he does so, head hung low to say that even he didn’t want this to be going down the way that it was.

‘You’re not taking the bus.’

Rick’s voice is rougher now, lifting his head again as Abraham turns, the two men going back to this glaring competition they had going.

‘Try to stop me.’

‘Rick-’

You call out quietly as you watch him walk towards Abraham, knowing exactly what was about to happen and lifting yourself from your place amongst the pews, Glenn stopping the two men before you could and moving them apart.

‘You stay… You stay and help us, and we will go with you.’

He declares, nodding his head towards his wife who stood at the front of the church.

With that, Abraham finds it in him to agree to half a day. It's not what you had wanted, sure, but it was something. Something that would hopefully mean that you could all now survive the night, especially with the threat that was looming within them woods.

You fidget subconsciously as Rick talks of the plan you were going to act out tonight. It's a surprise that your shirt hasn't given way by now with the amount of picking you had been doing at its threads, pulling the thread round your fingers until it snapped under the pressure.

Feeling eyes on you, you look up, noticing how everybody was feeling the same nervousness you were beginning to feel at the fact you were going to have to fight these vicious people once again.

‘You up for this?’

Rick asks, voice a little softer as he notices your uneasiness the most, stepping forward carefully so that all you can see is him.

You nod softly, meeting his eyes as you do before looking to everybody else and taking a gentle gulp before you speak.

‘If they’re after anybody here they want the most, it’s me.’

You begin, voicing what everybody was thinking, even Rick. They had wanted to kill you before, so what was stopping them from doing it now? You didn’t know exactly why they’d kept you alive for so long, maybe it was for fun, locking somebody who had already been through hell into a stingy container, driving them to the brink of insanity before eating them for whatever they could give. But you’d cut their game short and escaped. You guessed they wouldn’t exactly be pleased with that.

‘So we kill them first.’

Rick replies after a moments silence, staring down at you with the upmost seriousness, taking his hand and caressing the side of your face for a short moment before letting it drop and turning back to the group, his hand now rested in your own instead.

‘We’ll kill them first.’

‘Well, I guess you know we’re here.’

The sound of Gareth’s voice makes you shudder, the familiarity of it having you grip your gun tighter at your side, standing beside Rick and nodding softly as he looks back at you, checking you were still okay to go through with this.

‘And we know, you’re here… And we’re armed. So, there's really no point in hiding anymore.’

You hear his voice drill on from inside the church. Hearing him speak your name after a moment, how he knew you were there makes your stomach churn, holding your pistol impossibly tighter as you wait for Rick’s signal to move in.

‘We’ll hit the hinges.’

Gabriel grunts towards one of his men, all stood before the door that Carl and Judith were behind, ready to blow it open. But not for long.

Rick fires first, taking out the two men who stood at either side of the door with ease as you stand by Michonne in the darkness, staying as quiet as you possibly could as Rick emerges from the shadows and responds to Gabriel’s plea.

‘Put your guns on the floor and kneel.’

He demands, gun held up to the only man left standing as Gareth whimpers, holding what was left of his fingers as he does as Rick says, telling his men to do the same. He watches mercifully as you and the others come into view, holding your own gun up to his face alongside Rick and Sasha.

‘No point in begging, right?’

Gareth manages to stutter out, lifting his head up to Rick as he kneels at the mans mercy, the plan he had now in pieces as he held his now three fingers in his other hand.

‘No.’

Rick replies, voice remaining steady as he looks down at the man who had imprisoned you, the all mighty leader of Terminus who had tried to kill him and everyone he loved, now knelt before him so goddamn cowardly.

‘Still, you could’ve killed us when you came in. There had to be a reason for that.’

He tries to reason, shaking with fear as he looks up at Rick, doing exactly what he claimed he had no point in doing. Begging.

‘We didn’t wanna waste the bullets.’

Your eyes meet Ricks for a split second, gun aimed at right at Gareth’s head in the same way that Sasha held hers from behind as he spoke. It took everything you had in you to not shoot him right in this very moment. After everything he and his people had done to you, it wasn’t like he didn’t deserve it. But Rick was going to make sure this dragged out. For all your sakes.

‘We used to help people. We saved people. We- we saved y/n!’

His head spins round, just for a second, bringing you into the conversation as a last resort, meeting your hardened gaze before returning back to Rick. The way he tries to justify what he had done makes you feel sick. He hadn’t saved you, far from it. Gabriel was going to say anything to get him out of this, you knew that, and so did Rick.

‘Things changed. They came in and…’

The pain of his blown-off fingers leads him to stop, doubling over in pain as he lets out a whimper, trying to catch his breath before returning to meet Rick’s cold gaze.

‘After that…’

He shrugs, becoming jittery as he tries to get himself out of this situation, trying to find a way to make Rick level with him, even if it was through you.

‘We let y/n live for a reason. Let you all live for a reason. You don’t have to do this, we can walk away.’

Rick scoffs at that, a weak smile making its way onto his face as he turns his head away from the man before him, meeting your own bitter expression from the words that Gareth spoke and hating the way that this man was making you feel. He had to end it.

‘And we’ll never cross paths again… I promise you.’

‘But you’ll cross somebody else's path.’

Rick finally speaks, looking away from yourself and tilting his head back down to Gareth, not an ounce of sorrow on his face, even as he whimpered. This man didn't deserve any amount of mercy, none whatsoever.

‘You’d do this to anyone, right?’

His face contorts as he lifts his gun, just for a moment, leading Gareth to meet his stony look, aimed right at the leader before returning it back to his side.

‘Besides, I already made you a promise.’

With that, he takes the Machete situated at his hip and swings it into the side of Gareth’s neck, killing the man in an instant and creating a spray of blood to squirt out of his neck, covering you and Rick completely as he swings again and again and again.

Coming out from one of the pews, a woman emerges, having believed she had escaped the massacre that was happening around her until she saw your face.

You reach for your weapon, discarding the gun that was held in your hands and grabbing the trusty dagger instead, taking the woman that you recognised from your time at terminus and dragging her into the aisle by her hair, gripping the strands tighter as she screams.

You settle atop of her quickly, holding her down with your weight and against the church’s musty carpet before taking your knife and stabbing it right into the centre of her chest, watching viciously as she lifts her body in a fraction, letting out a gasp of air at the pain.

But you go again, taking the blade out and pushing it through her throat this time, the sickening crack of bone and muscle heard as you drag the blade through her skin. pushing it further and further up her throat until she stills.

But even then, you don’t stop.

You remember the days you had spent out in the forests alone. The day you had came to Terminus and believed you had finally found sanctuary. The days you spent locked away in that container. The days where you had to kill to survive.

As the thoughts raced through your head, you continued to stab, over and over again into the unmoving body of the woman, paying no mind to the blood that was now slick on your skin, covering the most part of your hands and face as you stabbed, and stabbed, and stabbed.

You let out a ragged breath when you finally drop the knife, letting it clunk against the aisle floor and besides the unrecognisable face of the woman you had just murdered, letting your breaths return to their natural pace as you lift your head, meeting Rick’s also bloodied, murderous face.

This was no longer the officer friendly you had met at the Alabama camp… and you were no longer the same old poet who spent their days daydreaming about him by the lake. The apocalypse had shaped you both into what you both happened to be now… murderers.

‘It could’ve been us.’

Rick murmurs, looking around to the others in the group who were slowly realising what they had done and witnessed, the guilt beginning to creep up on them.

‘But it wasn’t.’

You speak, taking your knife and placing it back to where it was held at your hip and moving off of the woman, wiping your face with the front of your shirt before meeting the eyes of those around you and following after Rick.

---

‘Rick.’

Bob calls weakly, making Rick turn to meet the bed-ridden man and sigh, turning back to yourself and Carl with a soft smile.

‘i’ll take her.’

You whisper, before Bob cuts you short, his thinning smile coming upon his face as he speaks.

‘As much as I like seeing y/n hold her, let her stay. I trust her.’

The smile that was already situated on your face grows at his teasing, rolling your eyes half-heartedly before letting Rick step forward and leaving the room alongside Carl and Sasha, leaving the two men and Judith to talk amongst themselves in his final moments.

You stand to the side as Abraham and the others get ready to leave, Judith now sat contently at your hip as you watch over carl, stood nearest to the bus whilst Abraham and Rick talk about the plans of the trip.

‘This group should be there for it. You should be there for it.’

Abraham continues, trying his best to convince Rick and the others to join them on the trip to DC, a contrast to the man who wanted to leave without you guys the previous night.

‘We will.’

You speak up after Maggie, lifting Judith up softly as she coos against you, looking down at Carl and returning the gentle grin that sits on the young boys face before looking back at the others in the group.

Watching as they all gather onto the bus, you step forward, stopping Glenn and Maggie for a second and looking between the couple.

‘Be safe.’

Glenn smiles tenderly at the words you speak, realising that maybe you had softened up to him from the conversation he had had with you a few days prior, feeling quite happy with himself that he had.

‘We will, keep this one safe aswell.’

He responds, tilting his head towards Judith at your hip before giving you a light hug and heading onto the bus with Maggie.

You hadn’t exactly had many friends, even before the apocalypse… but maybe Glenn could be a friend.

But even with the others heading off to DC, it seemed that your group could never catch a break.

You’d been awoken in the middle of the night, groaning lightly and moving closer to Rick who had also been forced awake, the both of you looking up at whoever had decided to wake you up this early in the morning. They must’ve had good reason, or at least you hoped that they had.

‘You’ve gotta see this…’

Michonne’s voice rings out in the silence of the church, making sure to keep her voice low, not wanting to wake anybody else except you and Rick. The look on her face leads Rick to sit up knowing that whatever had happened must’ve been serious as he makes his way into the centre of the church alongside Michonne, you following closely behind, reaching for your knife instinctively.

Daryl emerges from the shadows, a little confused at the sight of beaten, lifeless bodies strewn across the surroundings of the church but still, stepping closer, another beginning to emerge from behind him. At the unfamiliar face, you and Rick to both take out your weapons and point them at the boy.

Michonne shakes her head, eyes falling onto you and Rick before Daryl speaks, his voice weak and scratchy as he talks.

‘t’s alright, he's with me.’

‘Where's Carol?’

Rick asks, paying no mind to Daryl’s words as he continues to point his gun at the younger boy besides him, inching closer. You’d dealt with enough problems in the days prior, and if somebody didn’t explain what was happening, there’d be another dead body in the aisle.

The look on both of the mens face ahead of you says everything you need to know, slowly but surely putting down your knife, keeping it by your side just in case and moving closer, watching as Daryl looks down at the floor, clearly upset at the mention of his friend. Something had happened, you were sure of that. But it was far too late to talk about it now, he needed rest, they both did.

‘C’mon… we’ll talk in the morning.’

You murmur, reaching to take Daryl’s hand, but he moves back, lifting his head back up to meet your own before returning back to Rick’s hardened gaze.

‘We’ve gotta problem.’

For the entirety of the following morning, you spent your time going over what seemed to be another plan, arming the church with what little materials it had and deciding how you would get Beth and Carol back from this newly emerged Grady group.

The ride into the city hadn’t been as difficult as you had fought it to be, now settled in a desolate building on the outskirts, going over the plan for a final time as you stood in-between Daryl and Sasha, watching as Rick crouched on the floor, pointing to the map he had drawn out as he spoke.

‘At sundown we fire a shot into the air. Get two of them out on patrol. Then once it’s dark enough that the rooftop spotter won’t see us, we go.’

You scantly shift as he talks, your hand rested lightly upon your elbow as you look between the others in the group, catching Tyreese’s watchful eye for a second before looking back at Rick.

‘We cut the locks on one of the stairways, take it to the fifth floor. I open the door, Daryl takes the guard out.’

‘How?’

‘He slits his throat.’

Rick lifts his head, meeting Tyreese’s gaze that had once been watching you and responding to the question asked as if it wasn’t already the obvious. But not everybody in this group was a killer, especially not Tyreese.

‘This is all about us doing this quiet, keeping the upper hand.’

He tries to reason, looking to the others in the group and letting his eyes linger on you for a moment longer, checking to make sure you were still okay with this before carrying on.

‘They’re not expecting us.’

With that, he continues to go through the plan to which you listen intently, rubbing the dry patch of skin on your elbow subconsciously, a little nervous on how this plan you had formed would play out. You could only pray it would run as smoothly as the terminants had, but you had a feeling that it wasn’t going to this time. You’d had more than enough luck these past few days, it wasn’t going to last for much longer.

‘Tyreese, Sasha, take them. Daryl and y/n, you take care of whoever's in the kitchen. I got dawn.’

He finishes by drawing another cross on the map, showing you exactly what rooms they would be entering and when, making sure that you all knew exactly what to do.

‘If they’re smart, the rest of them will give up. Then it's six on three. Seven on three once we get a weapon to Beth.’

‘Twelve on three, the wards will help.’

Noah speaks up, lifting his head to meet Rick’s eye before turning to the rest of the group, assuring that you all had the upper hand in this situation like Rick had previously stated.

‘Best case scenario, this goes exactly as we’ve planned it, right? What about worst case?’

You can't help but ask what everybody's already thinking, turning your eyes away from Noah and to the rest of the group, eventually looking down at Rick, hoping that he had the answers you also so desperately needed.

‘All it takes is one of them cops going down the hall at he wrong time and well, we’re fucked.’

‘Lot of bullets flyin’ around.’

Tyreese adds, looking from yourself and back to the rest of the group, an uneasy feeling beginning to accumulate at the thought of this plan going sideways.

‘If that's what it takes…’

‘Its not. If we get a couple of her cops, alive, out here, we do an even trade. Theirs for ours. Everybody goes home.’

The plan Tyreese had began to formulate honestly didn’t sound that bad. But people always get hurt in a world like this, that was just the honest truth. It was hard to accept, but it was true.

‘That might work… but people are always gonna get hurt, no matter what way we go.’

You respond before Rick can, shifting again on your feet as the others return to look at you, biting your lip as you think of what plan to go through with.

‘You say this Dawn, she's jus’ tryna keep it together, right?’

Daryl asks, nodding his head towards Noah as he questions, earning a nod from the boy.

‘Trying and doing are two different things.’

‘You take two of her cops away, what choices does she have?’

You think into what Daryls saying realising that he did in fact have a point. If you took two of the cops, she’d have no choice but to return Beth and Carol with the state that the hospital was in. It just made sense.

‘Everybody goes home. Like he says.’

With all eyes falling back on Tyreese, it seems that his plan is the one you're going to be going through with after all. But maybe that was the wrong decision.

Rick’s whistle leads the two cops to turn around, met with your group, outnumbered with the five guns now held up at their faces.

‘What do you want?’

The female officer asks first as you inch forward, holding your gun tighter in its grasp as you look between her and her partner before back at Noah, eyes staring straight ahead at your targets.

‘Whatever this is, we can help.’

The male officer speaks up this time, voice a little shakier than the authorial tone he held against Noah before, looking between Daryl and Rick as you, Sasha and Tyreese move closer from behind.

‘You do what we say, we don't hurt you.’

Weighing up their options, the male officer gives in first, putting up his hands compliantly and turning his gun to the sky as he obliges Rick’s command, looking towards his partner who begins to retract her weapon in the same way.

‘Good. Now turn around. Put your guns on the floor, and kneel.’

Rick’s voice breaks through the silence as he strides forward, gun held up to the two, showing his authority as they do what he says, leading Daryl and yourself to cover the man and move to the front of the officers as they turn and kneel, pointing your gun at the female.

With their submission, you search the woman from behind, placing your gun back in its holster as you take her ammunition and weapons, finding the zip ties they had used on Noah and passing one to Daryl before tying the woman's hands behind her back.

‘Get up.’

You grunt as you take her tied hands in your own, leading her to grunt in response at the plastic that was now tightened at her wrist bone, following your orders and standing, doing just as you had asked. Six against two didn't seem like a good call to make.

‘Can I ask you something?’

The male proceeds with caution as Daryl drags him up, turning his head back to Rick who he had guessed to be the leader of your group, making him walk over and meet the mans gaze with his own bitter expression.

‘The way you talk… The way you carry yourself… Were you a cop?’

He asks, even in a situation like this, earning a small scoff from yourself to which he glances your way at the sound before looking back at Rick, hoping for his question to be answered. But the look on Rick’s face is all he needs to know that his assumption was correct.

‘Believe it or not, I was too.’

On account of Rick turning his head away, Noah begins to talk, his head tilting towards Rick as he speaks.

‘That's Lamson. He’ll be down for this. He’s one of the good ones.’

‘Shit!’

You shriek as a car comes into view, its tyres squeak deafening as it makes a beeline to the group, trying to grab the female officer you had captured as you begin to shoot but failing as she slips away. The gunfire from the people within the car leads Tyreese to grab you, pulling you behind the bin that him and Sasha had fallen behind, peeking your head out as you shoot back at the officers in the car that were taking your hostages.

As they quickly get into the back and begin to drive away, you move out from your cover and let out a round of shots at the retrieving vehicle, aiming for the tyres as you do but they end up turning the corner before you can continue.

Without thinking, you chase after the car, gun still held at your side as you sprint down the alley. That is of course until you see the metal box, stood to attention in the middle of the lot, surrounded by melted down walkers, flies buzzing around the corpses as they crawl across the almost liquefied tarmac.

The sight is downright disgusting, but you continue to move alongside Rick, gun held up as the group makes their way across what was once a parking lot. The sound of the cars door opening and the officers from earlier racing has you returning to your sprint, following after your captives as they try and make a run for it.

But the growing sound of walkers with no sight of Daryl has you and Rick turning back, leaving Sasha and Tyreese to grab the other two officers as you go to find the other man.

Rick gets there first, taking out one of the walkers with ease and cocking his gun to another officer as he steps aside, putting his hands up in mercy as Daryl tells him not to shoot. But you don.t hear, bashing your gun into the side of the other officers skull and knocking him clean out on the floor, earning a disapproving look from the two men between you. Taking a deep breath, You shrug, seeing no problem in what you had just proceeded to do and instead, pointing down at the unconscious man between the three of you.

‘Threes better than two, right?’

‘Your friend, what's his name?’

You ignore the woman you now knew as Shepherd as she talks, just in the way that Daryl does, the two of you walking ahead as you make your way through the building you had settled within earlier on.

‘I need to talk to him. Your plans are going go get me and my friends killed.’

‘Tough shit, we’re not telling.’

You gruff in response, gripping your gun tighter once again and hoping what you had said would shut the woman up. The plan was already going wayward, there was no way you were changing it now.

‘We aren't the right cops you want to trade with.’

You turn at that, along with Daryl, Tyreese and Sasha, locking eyes with the woman immediately and seeing that she was in-fact being serious, the look of desperation strewn across her face making that clear.

‘Dawns running Grady into the ground. A bunch of us want her out and she knows it. Pretty sure she knows we want Lamson to replace her too.‘

‘Dawn dosen’t know that.’

‘She might. And shes smart. So theres a good chance you can’t make this deal work and that’ll leave us all dead. But if you let us go, We’ll take care of Dawn ourselves, and we’ll let your friends go and this, is over.’

You step forward, about to make a comment until the other officer who had been awfully quiet cuts in before you, his eyes staring straight ahead, not looking to his friends for help or your group as he verbailses his own opinion.

‘No, we’re not gonna do that.’

‘Do you want to die?’

‘No… I just need you to shut up right now.’

You shift under your feet, you all do as you wait for the man to continue.

‘You can make this work. But you got to be able to talk to her.’

He lifts his head up at that, meeting Daryl’s gaze as he does and leading Sasha to make her response, rifle held possessively to her chest.

‘Noah told us all about her.’

‘Ive known her for eight years, ma'am. I know this woman. And my only interest is peaceful resolution, not dying, and sleeping in my bed tonight.’

You sigh as he turns to you now, pinching the bridge of your nose and weigh up the little options you and the group had left. It was either you go in there, guns a blazing and take back Carol and Beth or, you do this the smart way, the way the officer was recommending and the way that would hopefully result in much less casualties.

‘Please, let me help you. Please.’

You stand closely behind Rick as him and the officer talk, watching with your gun at the ready, situated in its holster, just in case.

‘She’ll tell you she won’t make a deal. She’ll tell you she won’t compromise. But she will. She always does.’

‘How can you be so sure?’

You ask, staring down at Lamson now tied to the pole behind him, having him look up and meet your blank stare before responding.

‘I know she will. Just…just know who you’re talking to.’

You turn at that, looking towards Sasha and Tyreese who had only just made their way back in tp the building and then over at Daryl and the other officers, making sure that everything was still going smoothly.

‘Probably headin’ out in the next 10 minutes or so. Anythin’ you need before we leave?’

Rick asks the man as he crouches before him, still making it known that he was in charge as he maintains eye contact but a little softer with his tone of voice as as he slowly begins to trust the officer.

‘Actually, a little water would be great.’

‘I’ll get it.’

You grunt from behind, making your way over to Sasha in a few strides and taking a bottle from the woman.

Upon Rick’s leave, you crouch down to Lamson as he looks towards you, meeting your stare and thanking you for the bottle. But you don’t let him take it just yet, moving the bottle away before he can grasp it and speaking, voice hushed over so that nobody else would be able to hear.

‘Rick might trust you, but I don’t. So, I’m only gonna say this once.’

You begin, inching a little closer to the man as an act of silent intimidation.

‘You try anything and I mean anything, you’re dead.’

Watching him flinch at the words you speak, you shove the bottle into his chest, picking yourself back up from the floor and walking away.

But he just didn't listen. and rest assured, he was dead.

‘He wouldn’t stop.’

Rick begins, looking between you and Daryl as he makes his way back into the building, a few feet away from the other officers and the rest of the group as the three of you begin to speak quietly on what had happened to Lamson.

‘I did warn him.’

You mutter, cocking your head back to the other officers before looking back at Rick and Daryl, shrugging softly. Daryl watches closely at your nonchalance to the man’s death, realising just as Rick had that you definitely weren’t the same person they had left behind at the farm. You were fiercer now, still reserved but stronger. He supposed that was what surviving alone would do to you.

‘This change things?’

Daryl asks, face twitching as he asks, a common thing with him for him to do, earning a sigh fro yourself at how terrible the plan was going.

‘It has to.’

You shift on your feet the same way that Daryl does, looking back to the two officers now tied up to the chair in the same way that Rick does before Daryl pulls you both back into conversation.

‘Maybe not.’

Your eyebrows furrow, so does Ricks, a little confused on what Daryl was getting at here.

‘She said the plan wont work. The guy who did is dead. Maybe we gotta rethink this.’

‘They also said the cop in charge didn't have no love for him. Maybe you did her a favour.’

‘He’s right.’

You agree, keeping your voice low so only the two men between you could hear, looking from Daryl to Rick as you try and work out what to do next.

‘I don’t know if they’ll play ball.’

‘Let’s find out.’

With that, you move out, turning to the officers at the back of you and walking alongside Rick before stopping and letting the female officer you now knew to be Amanda Shepherd talk.

‘He was a good man. He was attacked by rotters. Saw it go down.’

‘You’re a good liar, huh?.’

You quip, cocking your head towards the woman, having her look away from Rick and towards you with a slight scoff.

‘We’re hanging by a thread here. He was attacked by rotters. Thats the story.’

‘You said the trade was a bad idea. What changed?’

“Lamson was our shot. So it’s this, or you go in guns blazing, right? You don’t want that.’

You turn your head away at that, knowing the woman was right before setting your eyes back on her face, letting Daryl take the floor.

‘If this is sum bullshit your spinnin’, things go south-‘

‘I know! I know the good ones from the bad. Let us help you.’

‘Funny, cause Lamson said the exact same thing and he was supposed to be a good one, right?’

You respond, not being able to help yourself. You didn’t trust this woman, not for one second. The last time you didn’t trust somebody, you had pretty good reason for it, that was clear now. So, she was either genuinely going to help you or, she was lying through her damn teeth.

It wasn’t like you had a choice on believing her anyway.

‘What about you?’

Rick finally speaks, lifting his hand in short gesture, pointing to the other officer besides Amanda and striding over, standing opposite him now.

‘You wanna live? How much?’

You take note of how he doesn't respond straight the way, turning your head to Daryl, the both of you weighing up the man before he doubtfully breaks the silence on Amanda’s accord.

‘Dawns afraid she’ll look weak in-front of us… Thinks it'll tip things against her. Hell, it will. She’ll see this trade as a rip off if she thinks you took out one of our guys. So, its a good thing Lamson got aced by rotters.’

With that, Rick turns away, looking back at you and Daryl for conformation to which you both nod. The plan was on.

It wasn’t long until you were all inside Grady, following closely behind Rick as he led the way, keeping your hostages at arms length as you walked the halls of the silent hospital.

The plan was going as great as it could be, but you still carried that bad feeling about it, leading you to be a little fidgety in the way you turned at any noise you heard, catching Daryl’s attention and leading him to lean into you as you walked.

‘We’ll get ‘em back, no matter the cost.’

His words of quiet reassurance have you nodding in response, biting the insides of your cheek and meeting the man’s sullen gaze before coming to a stop at the end of the corridor.

The voice of what you had guessed to be this dawn woman cracks through one of the officers radios.

‘Holster your weapons.’

She requests and Rick asks you all to do the same, hesitantly placing your piece back in its holster at your hip and looking to the man you loved one last time before stepping through the double doors.

‘They haven't been harmed.’

Rick calls out first as the two other officers you had came into contact earlier stand with the woman, your captives however still at your side, ready to make the trade.

‘Where's Lamson?’

She asks the inevitable, earning Shepherd and Licari, your own hostages to reply just in the way that you had planned for them to do so.

‘Rotters got him.’

‘We saw it go down.’

‘I'm sorry to hear that. He was one of the good guys.’

Dawn speaks once again, clearly upset with the news that she had been given as her eyes begin to well with tears, noticeable even from the metres away that you stood. You just hoped that these emotions she suddenly felt wouldn't get the better of her.

‘One of yours for one of mine.’

Her voice is steadier now, ready to go through with the trade like you had proposed and leading you take a sigh of relief at her acceptance. Maybe this wouldn’t turn bad after all.

‘Move.’

Daryl gruffs, leading Licari into the middle of the hallway as Carol is rolled forward by one of the remaining officers in Dawn’s team, passing her to Daryl and back to the safety of your group. Now all you needed to do was get Beth back.

‘C’mon.’

You tut, leading Shepherd back to her group as Dawn moves Beth forward, meeting the younger girls eyes as Dawn lets go, giving her a softened smile as you take her hand, thankful she was okay and leading her back to the salvation your group had for her.

‘Glad we could work things out.’

‘Yeah.’

Rick grumbles, looking back at Dawn for a moment, wanting to leave this place as soon as possible and get back to the church now that you had Carol and Beth.

However, her asking for Noah leads you all to stop in your steps, Rick turning back first to the woman with a confused look on his face, just like you now held. She couldn't be serious, could she?

‘That wasn't apart of the deal.’

Rick traces back, walking up to the woman with his hand instinctively coming to the gun held at his hip. You knew the plan couldn’t have gone this perfect, when did it ever.

‘Noah was my ward. Beth took his place and i’m losing her so, I need him back.’

Shepherd tries to step in but she's immediately shut down by Dawn, her dismissiveness to the officer leaving an eerie silence in its wake.

‘My officers put their lives on the line to find him. One of them died.’

‘He ain’t stayin’.’

Daryl responds for Rick, pushing the boy behind him, making sure that nobody would be getting caught up in this mess again. You were going to get out of here with Noah, carol and beth. That was final.

‘He's one of mine you have no claim on him.’

‘He’s not something you can claim. He's just a boy that wants to go home.’

You step forward, meeting the woman's hardened gaze head on as you stand beside Rick, just as Daryl had done, building a wall behind the others. She wasn’t taking Noah.

‘Well, then we don’t have a deal.’

She shakes her head towards the three of you, resting her eyes on Rick for the final time, a little frightening as she stares Rick down.

‘The deal is done.’

Ricks voice raises at the woman as you reach for your gun at your hip, ready to fire if needs be as Daryl does the same with his bow.

‘It’s okay, its okay-’

‘No.’

You immediately shut Noah down as he tries to move forward, not wanting any more problems for the group. You weren't going to give him up just because this woman had a sick ‘claim’ on him, it was immoral.

But he doesn’t move back, stepping between you and Rick and taking out his weapon, looking between the two of you as he does before finally passing his piece over.

‘I’ve gotta do it.’

‘It’s settled.’

But out of what you supposed was pity, Beth steps out from the group, hugging Noah tightly as he turns back to her. The two had clearly built some sort of relationship in their time here, a trauma bond of sorts, the same sort of thing you had built with Michonne. You couldn’t help but feel for her in a way, aswell as Noah. This was completely unfair… but if it was what Noah wanted, you surely couldn’t stop him and neither could Beth.

‘I knew you’d be back.’

Dawn murmurs as Beth moves away, making you look between her and Noah, quickly coming to the sickening realisation that Beth was also coming to see as-well. There was a reason that Dawn wanted Noah to stay.

With her words, Beth steps towards the woman, hatred coming off of her in waves as she sees that Dawn is just like the other male officers here, maybe even worse. That was why she hadn't stopped them, she wasn’t frightened to speak up, far from it. She’d been doing the same disgusting thing to Noah that they had been doing to all the other poor women that never left this place. Beth had to do something about it, she had to put an end to it, once and for all.

‘I get it now.’

Her voice shakes but she remains steady in her stance, a contrast to the frightened girl you had shared the same feeling of loneliness with at the farm. For a moment, you were proud of her for stepping up. Until the gun went off.

You flinch at the sound, eyes widened in shock as Beth falls to the floor, having no care for the blood that had shot back onto your face, only caring for the body of the girl you had tried so hard to save now laid upon the hospital floor.

You reach for your weapon impulsively, tears welling in your eyes and beginning to blur your vision as you move. But Daryl beats you to it, putting a bullet straight into Dawn’s head and leading her to fall to the floor alongside Beth.

You shake as everybody holds up their weapons, Shepherd shouting for everybody to hold their fire, not needing anymore deaths then there already was. You’d seen enough for today, your heart broke for Maggie, for Daryl, for everybody.

‘It’s over.’

Shepherd follows up, looking to the three of you, clearly wanting you to put down your weapons. But the events that had followed mean’t that you most certainly weren't going to, nobody was. Beth was dead, but so was Dawn.

‘It was just about her. Stand down.’

Her voice breaks in a fraction as she looks back to the officers on her team, having you look down at Beth’s body that laid lifeless before you, a small tear falling down your cheek before looking back to the other officers, gripping your gun tighter.

You move away first, realising that holding a gun up to these officers would do nothing but waste time. You had to get out of here, and fast. So you turn to Rick, seeing that he was also affected by the events that had went down, shaking in the same way that you were and turning away from the group, leading you to move closer to him, needing some sort of relief right now.

Carol held Daryl as Rick held you, embracing for a short moment and passing his hand through your hair, gently stroking the pieces that fell in a way to calm him and yourself as he turned away from Beths body, burrowing his face into the top of your scalp, not wanting to see the horrific sight for another second.

‘You can stay. We’re surviving here.’

You shake your head against Rick, letting yourself cry away from prying eyes as he turns from your embrace, still holding you but looking at the others, shaking his own head in response before replying, his voice raspier than before.

‘No. I’m takin’ anyone back there who wants to leave as-well.’

But nobody else except Noah steps forward, decidedly staying in the place that they deemed as safe enough to stay, not knowing any better.

Nobody spoke as you retreated, nor did they speak as you made your way out of the hospital, too heartbroken at the young girl’s death to even form a sentence.

Daryl had taken her body and you had let him, carrying her out as he knew Maggie would want. You just didn't expect to see her so soon.

You watch alongside Rick as Maggie falls to the floor, wailing at the sight of her little sister who she had hoped to be alive now dead in the arms of Daryl Dixon, the same man who had tried so hard to protect her before the officers had taken her away.

The guilt ate at you more and more as you watched the woman cry for her sister, turning away and trying to collect yourself in the best way that you could. But her cries couldn't be cut out, the painful sound ringing over and over in your head, leaving a few tears to stream down your face at the sound, pinching the bridge of your nose as you try and force yourself to stop the emotions from taking over you.

You barely knew Beth, but you knew Maggie. So, seeing and hearing her so distraught provoked these emotions of sadness inside of you that you had tried so very hard to rid yourself of.

Your bad feeling about the plan had been spot-on after all.

©kyrasworldd 2026

@rickgrimes-cupid @twd-bee3 @kitty-grimes @rottingwaif52 @cottagebabyy @lovestriuck @rosey1981 @shtgshdrnit

[kyrasworldd]

⨾𓍢ִ໋ the lakes pt3

warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, mentions of cannibalism, whole load of angst w/ fluff , isolation, age gap (readers in their early 20s), themes of guilt, paranoia (just the usual rick emotions basically), depression from reader, mentions of other characters (andrea, michonne, glenn etc) , pet names (darlin, sweetheart), y/n used 2x,

pairings: rick grimes x gn!reader - s5, ep 1 + 2

word count: 6.5k (longest ive ever written…)

songs I listened to while writing: the lakes, void, tomorrow never came, i know the end, western nights, john wayne, mirrorball, how to disappear completely, the yawning grave, i dont wanna live forever

a/n: i’m sorry this took so long guys just wanted the best of my ability for you all <3 I’ve got exams coming up pretty soon so updates may be a little slower over the next few months :(

moodboard - p1 - p2

‘y/n?’

Glenn voices, eyes struck straight ahead at your bleak and beaten face, unbelieving that it was actually you, even under all the suffering that was now presented by the grit and wear that surviving alone and here had put onto your face.

‘you’re- you’re not real.’

Your voices breaks through the minute silence between you and the group, shaking your head to further progress the emotions you were feeling, further implying that the sight of them was making you spiral. You decidedly turn to the figure you were pressed against, a ragged and weak gasp falling from your broken lips as you recognise the man to be none other than Rick, eyes eventually following onto Daryl and a man you definitely didn't recognise from the farm.

‘no- no, you’re not real.’

You repeat, hanging your head down and towards the floor as you try to rid yourself of this nightmare, deeming that your mind was playing one of its sick tricks again and grabbing the hair to the sides of your scalp, grasping the strands firmly within your grip. The pain of the strain on your skin does nothing to stop the delusion you believe you are seeing upon opening your eyes, it's Rick you see before you and not the everyday red steel frames that you were imprisoned in.

‘y/n, now ain’t the time- we’re here, this? them?… t’s real.’

Rick finally voices, words definitive and clear as he grasps your shoulders tight enough now to show that he was real, that he was there, with you again. His head tilts in signal at the words ‘them’, the direction having you turn, looking to the other three men around you, Glenn and Daryl themselves still in a significant shock at the sight of you alive.

‘look at me darlin’… we gotta go.’

His voice, quieter this time, leads him to tilt his head further down, levelling with you in this intimate moment with no care for the men that were seeing it play out. The use of the pet name, one he had used on you before had your brows lifting an inch, cracked lips parted as you calmed, properly taking in the sight of the man before you, a sight you had imagined of seeing for oh so long. As he calms you best as he could, your brain weaves its way out of the blur between reality and deception, coming to see that this was all in fact real.

‘Rick?…’

Your lashes flutter with the new wetness formed, sniffling softly as your head tilts to him, his hand coming up towards your face hesitantly, scared that any sudden movement would have you retreating, just as you would with a wounded deer.

As soon as he sees that you’re relatively stable, he moves away, eyes following to Glenn to watch you for precaution while he peers around the sides of the shipping container, moving to what was left of one of the many cars in this place and checking for whatever ways he could find to get you and his crew out of here in one piece. Rick would be dammed if he let you die here now, not after he’d just found you, not ever. You do nothing except stand right where he had left you, body only having the energy to move when its necessarily needed and still very much in shock that you had been found by what was once your people. The loneliness you had written of in what was once your journal back at the farm was nothing compared to the loneliness you had come to feel in the months you were left to survive by yourself with nothing and nobody to save you. In all honesty, you had started to miss the group you had been once so insistent on leaving.

So much so when Daryl glanced over, having Glenn and the other man lead you out of the area on Rick’s command, you felt grateful you were back with somebody again. Getting out of here, even in group was tremendously difficult. With that, you knew even if you had gotten out of that container, you would’ve never made it out alive, at least not without Rick and the team.

‘stay close’

Glenn’s voice rings through the gunfire, looking towards Rick who continued to fire the rounds he had and ushering you towards what was left of a rather rusted train carriage, taking out walkers as they went. You moved with the practiced ease you had learnt, driving the knife the man you now knew to be Bob had passed you into the skulls of the dead coming at you and the team, the efficiency of your skills surprising Glenn, even in the moment, as this was not the person he once knew.

Whatever you had been through, what they’d all been through, had led you to develop these skills you were now acquitted with. He seemed to realise now why Rick had taken a liking to you before… he had seen the potential, long before any of the others had.

Hearing Rick’s voice at the back of you, you reel round, watching as a larger group of people begin to scramble out of the corroded box of metal, ripping your blade from the skull of another walker, now layed unmoving on the ground beneath you. Even in the midst of the chaos, your eyes roam, and as they do, Michonne instantly notices, a sense of relief flashing across her face at the fact that you were still alive, even after everything that had gone down in that herd.

This was no time for reunions. You move with efficiency, slashing and stabbing the walkers that dared to cross your path, adrenaline surging faster than it had for days, or however long you had been trapped. For now, you were acting on the pure need of survival, to get out of here, away from the danger you had been caught up in and with the man you had searched miles and miles for.

‘lets go- move!’

You hear somebody shout, looking over your shoulder to the group that was now scrambling to exit. You rush over, having been here far too long to wait around. The first opportunity to leave this place, you were going to take. But not without Rick.

‘we’ve gotta go.’

Taking his arm, you tug him back, coursing through the little crowd of walkers that were left to roam and arriving at the fence. With the help of the man that had been shouting before, you’re over, moving at haste towards the woods you had once survived in by yourself. The woods that had became your only friend in times that you needed it most. But these woods had betrayed you, led you to terminus. But they’d also led you here, with your people.

‘right here.’

Daryl points down at the buried dirt with him and Rick moving down towards it and digging vigorously at the hardened earth. Nobody had spoken in the short time since you had left, especially not Michonne and especially not you. The news of your survival had came as quite as shock, mostly to the members that knew you well and that has what led this silence to now drift between you all, as-well as the events of cannibals you had so narrowly escaped.

The ginger man from earlier speaks up once again, making you believe he did this quite a lot as you take into account all the new people since the farm. There was many you didn’t recognise, such as the one that was talking now but as-well as that, ones who were no longer here. You wondered what must’ve happened while you were away, what had led the group to terminus, led them back to you, led Rick, back to you. But the thought was cut shory at the feel of a hand upon your shoulder, making you flinch at the impact and grasp the knife you been given with tighter force, turning to meet the face of Michonne.

Even with the newest additions of wear upon her front, you could still recognise the woman from who she had been before. When her and Andrea had left you back at the old warehouse, you had felt betrayed, sickened at the feeling of being left behind once again. Now that she was here, with her hand rested gently upon your shoulder in a way to express her sorrows for what had happened, no words were needed to be spoken. You understood her completely, and you forgave her.

‘Rick, we got out. its over we- we found them.’

Feeling Glenn’s eyes upon you, you turn away from Michonne, meeting the eyes of the others around you, wary and cautious in the ways you had learnt on your own. However, you fall back, looking down at Rick who's looking straight back at you, a minor furrow in his brow as he thinks of what to do next.

You’d gotten alive, you all had. But seeing you there, confusion and hurt withered into your features, bruises and cuts adorning your once unblemished skin, looking to him as if he wasn’t really there. He’d wanted to kill every last one of them. Needed too. Not just for the groups sake, but for yours.

But as you looked at him now, almost begging to stay, to not return to the place that had locked you away in a measly container, away from any form of life, he stopped. Still clutching the pistol within his hand, he thinks of how distraught he’d been with you gone, how he had thought you were dead and how you were here now. If they went back, what if it went wrong? What if they went back to kill them all and you were caught in the crossfire? He couldn’t lose you again. Not to them. Not to anybody.

As if on cue, he hears a rustle behind him, directing his head and coming eye to eye with another, Carol.

Daryl surges forward in an instant, taking the woman in his arms. You’d guessed in that they must’ve built some sort of connection with you being gone, a lot of people had after all. You noticed how Glenn and Maggie seemed a lot closer, Michonne and Rick too. Something had happened whilst you weren't there, something terrible. It was almost as if Carol had been gone in the way that you had… maybe not for as long, but there was definitely something that you needed to be told here.

---

Seeing the child you had wondered so much about led a smile to come upon your face, unfamiliar but true as you watched the family reunite with each other once again. You wandered what must have happened to Lori also, seeing that the baby was here brought a broken down peace. Watching as Rick held his baby girl, cradling her head softly as Carl spoke, he looked up towards you, just as he always had and always would now that you were back.

Thanking the man that had protected his daughter, he makes his way over. The smile upon your face softens as he does, meeting his eyes in the moment as he holds the baby closer to him, looking from the child and then to you.

‘come ‘ere’

He whispers softly, taking you by your shoulder to pull you into him. He's soft in his movements, not wanting to frighten you anymore than you had been as he holds you close, not caring for anybody else that was to see.

The cry that falls from your lips is quiet, only heard for Rick and the child as he holds you closer, kissing the baby’s forehead before your own, letting you cry softer into him. Your hot tears dampen the top pocket of his grimy jacket, mixing itself in with the blood and dirt that now adorned its leather.

The tears, now stained at your cheeks were foreign, a new emotion returning from the numbness you had learnt to feel with nobody there to express them too. He was here now, here with you, allowing you to let go in his arms.

With his head rested upon your own, he turns, looking towards the sky that was starting to fill with smoke, smoke from the place that had no return.

‘we should go… somewhere far away from here.’

He begins to talk, a slight rasp in his voice as he shifts away, looking away from the darkness that enveloped the clouds and towards the group, keeping you close, like he wished he had before.

Passing the baby to his eldest, being careful to not disturb the child, the group makes their way towards the track, heading somewhere, anywhere, away from Terminus.

That place had brought too much trouble, for you especially and he’d be dammed to see you back there again. So they moved, following the tracks they had came on and walking towards whatever was to come. Whatever it was, he would face it head on, just to keep you and his children safe. It was all about survival now… and if that mean’t killing somebody for it, for you? He’d do it in a heartbeat.

‘im sorry.’

The words from his mouth, as quiet as they might have been catch your attention in the stillness of the night, head perched up by the tree behind you and meeting his eyes through the flicker of the fire before you.

You didn't speak. This conversation was going to happen, whether you liked it or not.

‘couldn’t keep you safe, Lori safe- i know that now.’

He continues, voice breaking slightly at the mention of his ex-wife before recovering quickly, shifting uncomfortably around the leaves that littered the forest floor.

‘I'm sorry.’

He repeats again, voice loud enough for only you to hear as he looks from the ground and back at your eyes, the same irises he had once dreamed of in the loneliest of nights, letting the silence take over. Only for a second.

‘I waited y’know.’

Your tone matches his, hushed and fragile around the fire, sparks flickering off in small motions off of the burning bark as you turn away, head tilting down towards the ground and mirroring his own expression.

You think back to the farm and how it had all went down. Andrea had found you after that night, perched on an overgrown log that stretched across the lake, blood scattered across your tattered clothes, a contrast to how you had been seen to her before. You sat with your back to the woman, clutching a blade in your left hand , sat at your side with your eyes staring straight ahead, watching the stream silently.

You thought if anybody returned, it would be Rick, and It would be here. The lakes.

At the sound of a rustle behind you, you turned, clutching the knife back in your hand tighter, holding it at your front, eyes observant and hands trembling with the fear that ran back through your bones. You hoped it was Rick, knowing you were alive and knowing you’d be waiting in the spot your love had been set. But that had only been a fantasy, and Andrea emerged, crushing the last hope you had.

After that day, you painfully came to the conclusion that whatever Rick and you had started that night, was gone, lost in the stream, floating away before you could grasp it again.

‘Andrea found me though, then Michonne.’

You continue after a moment of reflection, fingers subconsciously twinkling with the threads on the end of your filthy shirt as you briefly recounted the events for Rick. You didn't want to talk about it, it was a memory you wished to never think of again. But it infected your brain, even in what was supposed to be the comfort of sleep, a constant reminder of being left behind, not just by Rick, but by Michonne and Andrea, by everybody.

‘Then I lost them.’

The finality in your tone has Rick sighing, descending to the floor you found yourself upon, not to press, to show he was here, even if he hadn’t came back then.

‘You’re here now… all that matters.’

He comforts quietly, making sure to keep his voice gentle, not wanting to frighten you anymore than you were, even trying to hide it, he could tell. He takes your hand into his own at that, delicately kissing the skin he had praised months ago. The action has you lifting your head, meeting the mans eyes, blue irises reflecting back at you, holding the same love they had held back at the farm, as intimate as it had been then, now.

You nod at the words he speaks, signaling that you didn’t want to speak on them anymore. You would tell him in the end what had happened, just as he would tell you what had gone on while you were gone, you both knew that. For now, you needed rest. So, he shifts tenderly, shoulder meeting your chin and allowing you to rest your head upon the fabric of his jacket, the one he killed in for you.

Looking at the fire before you now, it reminded you of the times you had been sat up against a tree like this one, a fire before you as you were numbly met with a sleep that never came, only distant hallucinations of the ones that were gone from your life. This was the first night you hadn't been properly alone, the first night you were warmed… and it wasn't at the hands of the fire.

The sound of Glenn’s voice next to you as you wander the woods the next morning makes you jump, earning a small chuckle from the man as he begins to walk alongside you, the rest of the group moving along into their own morning conversations.

‘you alright now?’

He asks, his voice gentle, still wanting to be wary with everything that had happened. He knew the two of you had never been close before : sure, you’d shared a few conversations at the Alabama camp and the farm but, not enough to count the two of you as more than fellow survivors. He wanted to change that now.

You nod in response, mirroring the person he knew well, leaves crunching beneath your feet as you walked, a gun, given to you by Rick, now situated in your hand to ‘keep you safe’, replacing the dagger, a weapon that had once been your only safety.

‘y’know… he really worried about you while he was gone’

Glenn follows up, knowing the topic of Rick would catch your attention as the two of you strolled through the forest, voice a little lower than before, not wanting anybody else to pry into the newfound topic.

You meet the boys eyes for a second, checking if he was really telling the truth before letting out a soft sigh and picking up your pace in the slightest of motions, watching Rick with Daryl in-front of you.

‘seriously, he did.’

His voice is a little more serious this time, wanting you to know that he was being sincere in what he was saying. You didn’t have many friends here, Rick had been your only friend really, apart from Michonne. But, Glenn thought speaking about Rick and how he had been while you were gone might help build a connection, even if it was starting off small and hesitant from your side.

‘After Lori died… he was a bit, lost. Scared me a little, but Michonne and Hershel? they helped him. I think Michonne said something about you and he just- he found hope again.’

He continues to talk, even with no response. Just knowing that Rick had thought about you should have brought some peace, right? Seeing how worried Maggie had been after the prison had fell brought him immense peace, so he hoped even hearing about Rick would do the same for you.

Just as you’re about to respond, Rick turns to the group, ushering the load of you over to keep close, not wanting anything to go sideways out here. So you follow, just as you always had with him. As you do, you look back at Glenn and offer him a soft smile. It’s only little, but it’s there, and he returns it, watching as you walk over to greet the man you were closest too. The same feeling he felt looking back at Maggie.

‘help! somebody help!’

The shout has your eyebrows shooting up, turning to look back at Rick who holds his palm up to the back of the group, waiting, just in case.

But Carl’s insistency to help whoever was asking for it led you to grunt, looking to Rick in a way to tell him that you needed to do something and so, you did.

You get there first, reaching for your blade on instinct, never mind the gun situated at your waist and driving the blade through one of the few walkers skulls, the crunch of it a familiar sound as you pull it out, squirts of blood flicking off the blade and onto your face as you move to the next, taking the walking corpse by its collar and helping Michonne kill the walker with the back of her rifle, the force of it having the roamer fall to the ground.

You both turn at the exact moment, eyes zeroing in on the figure that lay upon the rock, the same man who had been shouting for help just moments before, looking down at the group, still shaking with fright.

‘come on down.’

What seems to be a priest obeys, jumping down carefully from the rock and looking around sheepishly as he comes face to face with Rick, clearly afraid of the man by the way he continues to shake.

You grimace as he vomits, turning away at the sight. You’d seen far worse things than sick since the start of the apocalypse, but the sight still had you feeling a little woozy.

After he thanks you all and states his name, you cut into the conversation, still stood beside Michonne as you speak, voice clear and assertive, contrasting the timidness you once held.

‘you got weapons?’

Gabriel chuckles at that, but the seriousness upon you and Michonnes face has him quickly stopping, looking from the two of you towards the rest of the group and then back to yourself before gulping.

‘do i look like i have any weapons?’

‘she asked a question.’

Rick cuts in almost immediately after, tilting his head up to the man that stood before him, showing his authority, doing well to frighten him.

‘i don’t have weapons of any kind… the word of god is the only protection i need.’

You stiffle a laugh at that. Even after all this time, people still believed in god? You stopped believing in that man a long time ago. What sort of ‘god’ would put you through all the shit you had for sleeping with a married man?.. Sure, what you had done was wrong, but not enough to justify what you had been through out here.

‘sure didn’t look like it.’

Daryl speaks, putting his own two pence into the conversation as he stares Gabriel down, calculating what his intentions may be as he did for everybody he now came across.

‘I called for help. help came.’

‘I came. I ain’t no god.’

You respond, shutting down his cheery tone of voice as he speaks of the saviour he still truly believed in. With your words and the rest of the groups uneasy faces, he becomes nervous again, breaths returning to their uneven rhythm as he looks around, making eye contact with Rick once again, feeling even more nervous under his look of disproval.

This man wasn’t as good as he claimed to be. There was no way. Surviving out here for so long and not even having killed a walker, never mind a living, breathing person, was too good to be true. But, he had a church, somewhere you could all hole up, even if it was only for a short amount of time. It was somewhere.

You hadn’t stepped foot into a church in years. Quite frankly, you couldn’t even remember the last time you had actually been in one. Your family had been just like any suburban American, gathering at your local church every Sunday, dressing all prissy and clean to pay your respects to your lord and saviour. That memory had been buried so far into your head that you almost forgot that it existed, until now of course.

You walked down the rows carefully, gun held out in-front of you, just in case, as the others searched the building, checking for any traps or signs that this place wasn't safe, that Gabriel wasn’t who he made himself out to be. Fortunately, there were none.

The echo of Rick’s whistle takes you out of your head, retreating back outside towards the others in the group as you stand beside Michonne and Glenn, watching intently as Rick talks with one of the newer members of the group, Abraham, about… leaving?

‘we just got here and you’re leaving?’

You cant help but ask, clearly confused on the situation at hand here. You hadn’t spoken to Abraham yet, nor the others you’d seen him closely accompanied by, but to talk about leaving when you’d just found somewhere decent enough to stay… it seemed absurd.

‘Sweetheart, with all due respect, you don’t know shit.’

Abraham responds, no real malice in his tone, just frustrated with the situation at hand. But Rick turns, palm moving away from his daughter’s head and meeting Abraham’s gaze just as sternly as he was looking back at him.

‘can’t you take a breath? Washington ain’t waitin’ on you.’

Michonne speaks, trying to diffuse the situation as she watches Rick, not wanting any more trouble than they would need. But Abraham doesn’t back down.

‘We take a breath, we slow down. Shit inevitably goes down. They need Eugene.’

‘is somebody gonna fill me in here or what?’

You huff lightly, looking between Abraham and Michonne with the same confusion from hearing him the first time. What the hell did they want in Washington?

‘Right- this man you see here?’

Abraham starts, earning a huff from Rick and Daryl but still, tilting his head to the man with a rather odd haircut that stood to the side of the church, lifting his head up on the account of his mention and looking from his friend to you.

‘He knows exactly what caused this mess, and his scientist friends in Washington are gonna help us get outta it. So, we’re takin’ that short bus, and we’re leavin’.’

‘we need supplies. no matter what we do next.’

Michonne cuts in again, facing the man head on. And even with the little information you now knew, you agreed with her.

‘shes right. We need water, ammunition , food.’

You list, looking to the group before back at Abraham, watching Rick step up and head into the church, leaving the discussion no longer up for debate.

‘short bus ain’t goin’ nowhere. Bring you back some baked beans.’

‘How’d you survive here for so long?’

Rick asks, wandering down the carpeted aisle of the church, holding the baby at his hip and getting straight to the point with Gabriel.

You stand off to the side, leant against one of the many wooden pews besides Michonne as you let them talk, observing the conversation quietly.

At the mention of a stocked food bank, your head perks up, looking from Michonne to the two men as they talk. If there was anything you needed now, it was food. Daryl’s squirrels weren’t going to last forever, that was for sure.

‘i’m coming too.’

You speak up as whos coming on the run is decided, making Rick shake his head almost instantly and turning away.

‘you’re stayin’ here, with Carl and Judith.’

He replies, checking the ammunition he has left in his rifle before putting it back by his side and looking towards Sasha and Bob.

‘How many rounds you got?’

You seethe as he disregards you, lifting yourself up from the row and walking towards him, too fast for Michonne to stop you and making him look at you as oppose him.

‘i’m coming with you.’

You repeat, eyebrows furrowing slightly in objection as he turns to look at you, meeting your defiance head on with his own. He wasn’t gonna put you in danger, not for some damn food cans that was for sure.

‘y/n- don’t make it difficult. you ain’t comin’.’

He gruffs in slight annoyance, but his face reveals his concern. You know he dosen’t want you to get hurt, but you could handle this. You weren’t the same person he met back at that Alabama camp, you could fend for yourself, you had fended for yourself, and if they needed help from anybody with walkers from now on, it was you.

‘i’m coming.’

He wasn’t winning this argument.

‘this it?’

You ask, earning a nod from Gabriel as he walks up the curb, leaving you to look back at the group as you observe the food bank’s exterior, looking over its peeling paint and worn and rusted sign that read ‘McQuarrie Family services - Food Bank and Thrift Store’ as he spoke.

Opening the door, Rick immediately puts up his rifle, leading you to do the same with your own as the six of you observe the desolate building, the stale stench a familiar scent from the times you had scavenged by yourself.

At the sound of walkers in the distance, he moves up his hand, a signal to start moving, slowly and carefully. You do, looking back at Michonne and Sasha as you tread lightly, minding your way past broken glass and crumpled up paper that was now strewn across the wooden floor when he signals for you to move forward.

Your empty hand comes up on instinct to your nose at the smell of rotten corpses mingled into a pit of water , having found its way into the hole through the gaps in the roof, spotted by Michonne.

‘we’re really gonna have to go down there, aren’t we?’

You groan, taking in the ugly sight below you, earning a sigh from Bob that was now stood beside Sasha, the five of you all looking down at the food that could be seen on the flooded shelves, Gabriel stood to the side and grimacing at the smell of it as you all were.

‘told ya’ not to come.’

You roll your eyes at Rick’s remark, placing your gun back in its holster at your waist and moving to climb down into the pit. The things you had to do for food.

In-between Michonne moving the shelves, you grab your blade, lunging it into the front of one of the walkers heads and pulling it back out with the same speed, watching it fall back into the grimy water as you all move to try and get the food as quickly as possible.

The sound of waves splashing and wood collapsing in the midst of killing leads your brows to furrow, turning your head to the direction of the sound and watching with confusion as Gabriel scrambles through the water, seemingly trying to escape a specific walker that had its eyes on him.

‘for fucks sake.’

You grumble under your breath, watching the man now backed up against one of the walls to the further sides of room, hyperventilating in the same way he had been when you found him. Catching the groups attention, Rick makes a plan, leading you to knock down one of the shelves in-front of you and for him to make his way over and get Gabriel out of the mess he had annoyingly gotten himself into.

Thanks to Gabriel, the walkers are everywhere, surrounding you from all angles and leading you to come face to face with one. Taking your blade, you drive it through ones skull before moving at haste to smash the brains of another.

You take a sigh of relief as the last one is killed, leaning against one of the shelves as you shut your eyes for a split second, taking some much needed respite until you hear Sasha shout bobs name, leading you to grab your blade again and move to help the man.

As the last walker falls down onto a pole, you grab a crate, passing it immediately to Sasha and watching as she smashes it into the roamers head before fully killing it off, taking your last sigh of relief as she checks over her partner.

‘Do you miss the sword?’

Rick asks from behind you and Michonne as you all pull the food you had found along the road, leading you to smile at the mention of the weapon you had once seen the woman acquainted with.

‘you were a killer with that thing.’

You joke half seriously, turning your head up to the woman as you think back to the times you had spent with her and Andrea. The winters had been long, but the summers you spent alone had been longer.

She shakes her head at your quip, looking away to hide the smile on her face before responding to Rick’s question and continuing to roll the crates along the path.

‘It wasn’t really mine… found it, at the very beginning.’

‘how’d you get so good?’

He continues to ask, pulling a conversation out of the woman, something to fill the time as you make your way back to the church.

‘it was just me, and them, out here. Same way y/n is with their blade. Just, learnt.’

She replies, catching your eye for a moment as you both remember the times with Andrea, the time where they had lost you to the crowd of walkers. Even with both your skills, the herd had been too big and you had been lost. Remembering that led to a silence, the memory something neither of you had chosen to speak on, atleast not yet.

‘it wasn’t a life… not like today.’

Michonne breaks the silence, looking back at you and Rick with a soft smile as she continues to speak, trying to lighten the mood again.

‘stumbling around in three feet of slime for some peas and carrots, thats living.’

You chuckle at that, you all do, turning the corner back to the church and moving to welcome the rest of the group with the food you all well and truly needed.

‘I miss Andrea, I miss Hershel. But, I don’t miss what was before. I don’t miss the sword.’

The mention of the woman the two of you had been closest to in them seven months of surviving caused a slight ache to form in your chest. You didn’t know what had happened to her, nor Hershel, but from the way Rick and Michonne’s faces had both dropped, you figured it hadn’t had been good.

‘she’s a real pretty baby, huh?’

You speak as you sit besides Rick, a softened smile depicted upon your face as you all sit around and eat, a sense of normalcy falling back onto the group.

He returns your smile at your words, passing the baby girl into your arms and letting her rest on your chest as you rest together, situated with a paper plate of variety canned vegetables and beans with a glass of communion wine from the hands of the pastor himself.

‘yeah, yeah she is.’

He replies to your words of praise to his daughter, pressing a kiss to your cheekbone as you hold her before resting his head upon yours and looking around to the rest of the group. Moments like these are what he continued to live for, what you all continued to live for… and he wasn’t gonna take them for granted.

Taking a baby carrot from your plate, you make a small ‘aa’ sound, taking the wet, canned vegetable between your fingers and feeding it to Judith who rested at your chest, taking the vegetable into her mouth with a gummy smile. The sight of you with his child, feeding and laughing with her warms his heart, leading him to press another kiss to the top of your head before watching Abraham make a toast, leading the two of you to lift your head in tandem to the man.

You lift your glass up at his words, smiling gratefully at the term ‘surrvivors’ as you rest against Rick, finally feeling peace. You used to believe that surrviving was for the unlucky ones, that it was just a punishment for all the wrong you had done… but now, you knew that it wasnt.

Surviving was for the strongest, surviving meant living and living, was the greatest gift of all if it meant you were here with people like Rick to help you through it. Being a survivor was for the lucky ones.

At the mention of this roadtrip of Abrahams, Judith coos, leading you to press a soft kiss to her head, shifting the bundle of life in your arms and looking back at the man, watching him as he talks alongside the rest of the group.

With his words of safety in DC, you begin to rethink all of this, looking up at Rick and seeing that he is also. Meeting his eyes, you nod lightly, agreeing with what the man is saying and looking back to baby Judith who coos at the tension between you both.

With all eyes on Abraham, he looks from the two of you both to the rest of the group, thinking for a moment before meeting the eyes of Abraham that lay situated on him.

‘Save the world for that little one. save it for yourselves. save it for the people out there…’

He nods towards the door, making you think back to Andrea, Jim, Dale, everybody you’d lost in the end of the world. If there was any chance of stopping it, any chance of ensuring Rick and all the others in this room would continue breathing, you’d take it without a second thought.

At the sound of Judith cooing against you again, Rick chuckles, earning a breath of laughter from yourselves and a few others in the room as he turns to look down at her,

‘what was that?.. I think she knows what im about to say.’

He speaks, turning everybodys attention away from Abraham and onto himself. His voice softened in the moment as he tilts his head down to you, smiling sweetly before turning to Tyreese and back at Abraham with the same expression.

‘She’s in. If she’s in, I guess i’m in.’

The words he speaks leads to a small commotion: a smile from yourself, a laugh from Tyreese and a clap of approval from Glenn who smiles giddly with Maggie at the three of you all cuddled up together besides the rows of the church.

You finally had the chance to live again, the idea of starting something new, the chance to finish this once and for all. And with that, you were so very grateful to be surviving.

©kyrasworldd 2026

@kitty-grimes @rottingwaif52 @cottagebabyy @lovestriuck @rosey1981 @shtgshdrnit @twd-bee3 @rickgrimes-cupid - ask to be added here !

[kyrasworldd]

⨾𓍢ִ໋ the lakes pt2

warnings: mentions of attempted suicide, reader + rick going insane, hallucinations, mentions of cannibalism, whole load of angst w/ fluff , isolation, age gap (readers in their early 20s), themes of guilt, paranoia (just the usual rick emotions basically), depression from reader, mentions of michonne, andrea, jim etc

pairings: rick Grimes x gn!reader - s2-s4

word count: 3.4k

songs I listened to while writing: the lakes, same ol' mistakes, who is she?, it almost worked, dagger, western nights, tongue, this is me trying

a/n: Thanks to my beloved writers server i've decided to make the lakes a series!! Im so excited to write this for you guys I have high hopes for this fic and where its going to go <3

moodboard - p1 - p3

You remembered how it had been before this. Waking up to the sound of crickets chirping in the early morning, having the ability to wake up knowing you were somewhat safe on the farm that your group, no matter how much you disliked being with them, had found sanctuary on. You'd really taken that for granted.

You were left behind, surrounded by the walkers that invaded what had became your home these past few weeks, only company being Andrea as you both made your way out with the little rounds you had left. Michonne had came through like the last gift god was willing to give, more so for Andrea than yourself but still, you were thankful.

You knew why this had happened, of course you knew why. It was the raft of god, condemning you to hell for what you had done, for laying with a married man. You had been unlucky, and that continued to follow after the fall of the farm.

The little relief you had felt with Rick that night meant nothing now, surrounded by walkers at all sides, Andrea screaming your name as the two of you were on either sides of the horde.

Locking eyes with Michonne as she held Andrea back, you knew the choice she had made. As always, it wasn't for you. To believe that even for a second that it could've been was foolish, when had you ever been first pick after all?... you surely weren't to Rick, that being clear when he had left you behind and now, you weren't to Michonne.

The days blended into each other after that, always alert for what was coming, walkers or basic threat, anything set you off now. It didn't take long for you to realise nobody was coming to save you, Andrea and Michonne weren't coming back, why would they? Nobody ever came back, at least not for just you. Back at the CDC, you were mean't to die there, you wanted it more than anything. But Dale had came back for Andrea and you had put in your piece, spoke your truth on how the world would never be the same, how it was better to go out on your own accord. But the old man had shut you down, spoke about Jim and how he wouldn't have wanted this for you and so, had you walking out the building with him and Andrea. You wished you'd never left, wished you'd died there because everything that had followed after the CDC proved the point you had made that day, the fact that the world you were living in now would only get worse.

Maybe it would be better to let go, let the walkers rip you limb for limb as they should've done before all of this. You'd been so close to using your last round and driving a bullet into your skull, the impact of it killing you once and for all on your own accord. That was until you saw him.

'Jim?'

You whisper, barrel of the corroding gun still pressed gently against your roughened skin, head cocked to the side as you try to make out the figure before you.

'you need to get up.'

The voice mutters towards you, a little incoherent but you can still make out the words enough to turn your head again, peering up to the man you now recognised to be Jim, sickly pale in the same way he had been when you left him.

'I'm not listening to a dead man...'

You laugh this time, but the noise comes out dry, scratching at the insides of your throat from the lack of appearance in these past few months. Turning to squint up at him again and seeing the pity he held in them lifeless eyes, you sigh, dropping the gun and letting the pistol bounce once against the forests fallen leaves and leaning back defeatedly against the hollow trunk at your back.

'happy now?'

You murmur, looking up from your gun which lay unused at your side and he's gone, leaving you all by yourself once again.

It had been a while since Rick had seen you in his head.

After Lori's death he'd lost it, shouting up at walls he seen the woman's face in, scaring not only his son but everybody else around him. The prison had became his own personal hell, trapping him within its walls and the visions of you and Lori along with it. Their leader, the man who had hauled them through everything so far, gave them hope, was quite frankly losing it. And it wasn't stopping there.

Rick thought back to the first time he had heard you, the crackle of your voice coming through that broken old telephone down where Lori had passed and how his body had jolted, frozen in place at the sound of your rasp.

'what happened Rick?

You'd asked, and all the man could do was cry, whimpering into the phone as he fell to the floor, tattered cord tangling with his movements.

'm'sorry y/n. m'sorry, 'm so sorry'

He repeats over and over, needing to apologise, not just for leaving you behind but for what he had done to you, having you feel the way that he had also felt just to completely avoid you on the following days after the event. He hated himself for it every single day, now more than ever as you cried quietly into the phone, mirroring his own sobs which broke between the words he tried to speak.

'I was gonna' end it- thought I could keep ya' both alive n I-'

He stops, teeth clenched tightly in his mouth, stopping himself from crying even more than he should've been. But he just couldn't, he was breaking, and you weren't there to pick up the pieces. You were gone, and so was Lori. That was more than enough to send him into this state of psychosis.

The days after the phone call, it had only gotten worse. Watching Lori turn into yourself was what had him fully break, crying loudly for you to go away , taking out his gun in a fit of hysteria and scaring off the group that had came to him for help, now ushered away by Glenn. He was losing it, and he couldn't do anything to stop it. All the group could wonder was why he had called your name in the midst of this breakdown and not his late wife's. Michonne, stood off to the side, had her head bowed low, hiding the guilty expression on her face as she remembered what had happened to you in the end, a memory that was all too familiar.

Hershel had gotten him out of that hole after he had found him outside the next day, wandering out of the prison fence and talking to himself incoherently. Hershel knew something had to be done after michonne had came to him, explaining how she had been with you before all of this. Putting the pieces of the story together, Hershel knew he had to help. The people needed their leader, Glenn couldn't live up to Rick, no matter how hard he would try, he just couldn't. So, Hershel had to get him back.

Hershel was no man that judged, Rick knowing that well enough spoke of his troubles, helping the older man understand why he was out there and that there was an answer in all of it. Hershel met him halfway, telling him the half-truth on what michonne had mentioned about you still being out there, still fighting with nothing left to fight for and with the news of your survival, Rick made his way back.

He had hope again. With the protection of the prison and having it turned into a real home after the Governor's leave, him, Michonne and Daryl tried their hardest to look for you. The group searched across the entire state for any signs to where you might have gone and where the Governor may have been hiding, holding out hope for his own sanity and Michonnes.

You wouldn't be found. At least not until God had deemed your suffering enough.

After the brief encounter with Jim, you did what you could to keep going, even when it pained you to do so. You knew if you were to put the barrel to your head again, your brain would conjure up another person you spent your days missing, a sick way to keep you alive, even if there wasn't many options on the list of people to visit, you couldn't bare for one of them to be Rick. Instead, you kept going, killing lonesome walkers that stumbled across your path down the Georgia roads until you were stopped at a railway track, observing the area as you always did now and stepping onto its tracks.

You figured staying on the tracks was safer than the woods you were accustomed to now. Before, you would've said the opposite of that statement. But before, you had the safety provided by Michonne's two chained walkers, even with how sick it may have been, it was nothing compared to what you'd seen in these past few months of survival. You'd only survived now out of either sheer luck or severe punishment. Either way, you supposed you were to be grateful.

Walking slowly down the tracks, you noticed a sign, moving closer to the slab of wood held up by a rather weathered pike and reading the words that were there before you.

Sanctuary

for all

Community

For all

Those who arrive

Survive

Maybe it was sheer luck after all.

The first night after the prison had fell, Rick had dreamt of you.

He wasn't sure if he was dreaming at first... the pain in his side remained, still rested atop of the couch him and carl had found the night before, having to adjust by themselves for now.

You walked steadily towards him, bringing light to the darkness of the room. He hastily adjusted, rubbing his tired eyes and looking upwards to not only see yourself, but Judith, cooing softly against your unblemished chest. You looked the same as you had the last time he had seen you, not through altered visions his mind had conjured but from the farm, purely you.

'Rick... your face.'

You observe, voice laced with concern as you lean forward towards him, delicate fingers grazing against the coarse cuts which were now etched onto his face, blood dried and cracking whilst you held Judith closer.

You felt so real. Rick could feel the heat of your skin against his own, a feeling he hadn't felt since that night... how he had missed it. He lets his eyes flicker shut at the notion, his own hand coming up to take the hand held closest to his face and hold it, squeezing just once to test that you were really there. Really with him in this moment, with Judith.

'you've gotta wake up Rick... Carls worried'

you whisper softly after a few seconds of shared silence, squeezing back into Rick's hand with a tender smile, one which was broken around its edges but there, for him.

He shakes his head at the words you speak, letting his eyes flutter back open and onto your face, taking it in while he still can, holding your softer hand to his own.

'jus'... let me stay for a little longer, please.'

He whispers, pleading now as he looks up, thumb caressing the skin atop your knuckle languidly, scared that if he applied too much pressure, you and Judith would disappear.

'you need to wake up... keep Carl safe.'

He reachs for your hand as it slips but you're gone, leading him to lose his balance and fall off of the shabby couch. He gasps for air, rasping as the pain of his injuries immediately hit, throat itching harshly at itself. He reaches for Carl, trying his absolute hardest to speak the boy's name as he cries, the sound of his snivels tearing him further apart than the dream of you and Judith had already done. However, Carl drops his weapon with the lack of response from his father, sobbing harder as he begins to speak.

'I can't... I was wrong. Just do it.'

He whimpers, Rick's strained hand outstretched to him , voice clawing its way out of his scratchy throat before he finally gruff.

'Carl... don't go outside. Stay safe.'

He struggles on the words but, he continues, doing what you had said and keeping Carl safe. He couldn't lose anybody else.

With that, he turns over again, collapsing against the floor and silently praying that you will return through his slumber again.

Terminus was anything but sheer luck.

The track to the sanctuary had been longer than you had hoped, avoiding at all costs other groups, knowing the trouble they brought from fleeting experiences along the way. You dealt with it when you had too, no regret, just the need to survive by any means necessary. Was that not how people got by now?

Walking through the gates of Terminus and seeing the laundry baskets and hampers already had you feeling uneasy. The domestic life this place was already beginning to offer felt too good to be true. After being on your own for so long, the ruminating thoughts had switched off. But now, they were in overload.

What if this place is wrong? What if Rick and everybody are already here? What happens if you turn the corner and the place has been overrun with walkers?.. knowing your luck, you really wouldn't be surprised.

But even with all the thoughts, you turned, clutching onto the last of your weapons - a small and dainty pocket knife situated in your jacket pocket. You knew it would do nothing if there was a horde but still, you were prepared.

And there there was, a woman, mid 50s maybe, stood opposite a burning grill, cooking what you had guessed at the time to be deer with a welcoming smile on her face.

'Hi, I'm Mary. Looks like you've been on the road a while.'

She speaks, the smile on her face turning pitiful as she looks over your appearance, catching the bruises and cuts, as-well as the rips and dirt on your once clean clothes. But with no response from yourself, she sighs softly, voice still soft as she speaks again.

'Let's get you settled with a warm plate. Welcome to Terminus.'

'that deer?-'

clunk

After finding Michonne and Daryl, Rick made a beeline for Terminus, knowing that if there was somebody the group had holed up after the fall of the prison, it would be this place.

The events of the night before were still replaying in his head. The feel of his teeth sunken into human flesh, hand held tight around his blade as he stabbed the man who touched his son. It'd all happened so quickly, in a fit of rage, he had let Carl, Michonne, Daryl, all of them, see how far he had fallen into the darkness.

He knew none of them blamed him, how could they when he practically saved them?... Nevertheless, knowing his son now rested with Michonne inside the stationary car restless with the memories of his father acting the way he had had him feeling a whole lot worse.

With his back against the car, he reached into the inside of his jacket pocket, doing his best to not ruin the pages of the journal but then failing miserably.

'shit'

He grunts frustratedly, moving to wipe the remnants of blood smeared across his hands against his already browning shirt. To think that the shirt had once been white was slightly amusing.

He picks up the journal once again, specks of red now smeared slightly across its front which Rick just sighs at the sight, no energy for anything else, leaning back further against the car as he opens it up.

When the prison had fell, he'd been insanely grateful to himself that he had slipped the journal into his jacket pocket earlier on into the today, thinking he was to be going on look out into the night. But of course, that was cut short.

He can't help but smile weakly as he always does at the first few pages. Light sketches which had been done by yourself back at the farm, are what were depicted on its pages, some of the farm's appearance but most being sketches of himself.

He flicks again, fragile pages crinkling against his nimble fingers as he reads the poems, finding his favourite towards the end of the journal and staring down at the words for a few seconds. He remembered the first time he'd read this piece of yours, the night after the fall of the farm, curled up in a deserted car with Carl on his lap and needing some peace during this time. It did nothing to calm him, at least not then. It however, did now.

‘if i follow you to the river,

would you come and bring me peace?

will you stay with me forever?

will you chase me in my dreams?

if i throw it all in the river,

if i let my thoughts run free,

would you stay here forever?

would you come be lonely with me?’

Delving back into the old memories, he hadn't noticed that he had began to cry, not until Daryl placed down his crossbow, metal clanking against the rusted car's metal and knocking rick out of his trance.

He sniffles, grasping the book and closing it shut as he moves to put it back into his tattered jacket pocket, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand quicker, not wanting the man to see him like this, no one for that matter. But Daryl batted no eye, handing him a much needed rag to wipe his face, no words needed just, a shared look, a look that mean't that he knew. He knew.

You didn't fight it. What was the point of fighting against four walls of steel? The pain from where you had been hit on the back of your head was gone now. Once again, you were left to your own devices, trapped in a container in a place disguised as good. God really fucking hated you huh?

You weren't sure how long you'd been here now. Long enough for them to chuck in small amount of foods you refused every once in a while but, not long enough for them to kill you. What sort of sick torture even was this? If they were going to eat you, why not just do it now? You wondered for the 100th time, staring at the same red walls as you had for the past however many hours.

Something was happening though. The day before, all you had heard was gunfire, banging on the container for help that never seemed to come but then, it was gone, leaving behind its eerie silence with it.

You were about to doze off, it being the only thing you really could do to take your mind off the current situation at hand until the sounds outside of the container grew again. But this time, it wasn't just gunfire.

You banged louder than you had all the previous times, voice breaking from the lack of water as you shout for help again, praying that somebody, anybody, would get you out of there.

The screech of the container's lock moving up had you stilling, fists bunching up incase of any threat that was to come your way. The adrenaline running through your bones was running faster, prepared to attack for any reason deemed necessary. Prepared to run. Hide. Anything.

So, as soon as the door swung open, you attacked blindly, pouncing onto the man before you, voice too broken to scream, just a cry coming out weakly.

Yet, he pushes back, having you stumble into the hands of another, catching his own breath doing so.

‘please- jus’ , let me go'

You fall against the second man, squinting at the sun you hadn't seen for much too long, eyes flickering shut in defeat as you weakly beg. It was the first time you'd ever even done so. Your voice was weak, barely audible with the sound of gunfire and walkers all around you.

But they heard, heads turned up, especially Rick’s which was to the back of you when Glenn, stood in-front of the two of you, realised who exactly they'd let out.

‘y/n?’

© 𝘬𝘺𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥𝘥 2026

@rickgrimesismyboyfriend @rottingwaif52 @kitty-grimes @lovestriuck

[kyrasworldd]

⨾𓍢ִ໋ the lakes pt1

warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI !, smut w/ fluff + angst, porn w/ too much plot, reader is a #loner like myself, age gap (readers is in their early 20s), cheating , suggestive, mentions of shane, lori, etc , somnophilia, slight obsession from reader (theyre just a lil yearner), confused lovers,

pairings: s2!rick grimes x gn!reader - s2, ep4

word count: 2.2k

songs I listened to while writing: the lakes, illicit affairs, visions of Gideon, your best American girl, crush, the river ...

a/n: this is my first time writing smut in a while so pls, dont judge <_>. i personally really like this fic (kinda proud of it) so i hope you guys like it! i left the ending ambiguous but if people want a p2 i might consider doing it. also finally proof read LOL. confirmed series <3

moodboard - p2 - p3

You didn’t belong. You never really had and even as the world came to an end, you still couldn’t fit into the group, even at the stakes of your own survival. To the group you were seen as weaker, you knew how they thought, had been with them so long to know exactly how they were thinking and for some, it made them feel inferior, leaving them to disregard you when it came to group conversations and more.

The only person who had ever had your back apart from the family you had lost so early on was Jim. Back in Atlanta he had been like a brother for you, somebody you could always rely on but, he had gone too, just like they all had. But lately, you had found yourself coming into conversation with Rick a whole lot more than you had used too.

Since your arrival at the farm, Rick had come to acknowledge you more. You still found it hard to understand why but, you weren’t unhappy with the change, far from it in fact. It was nice to have a man like rick looking out for you, an older authorial figure, it was comforting, a feeling you hadn't felt from anybody in a long, long time.

And as ricks life slowly began to unravel around him, there you were, looking to him with them deep set of eyes. You were a temptation he knew that he wouldn’t be able to resist for long, not with the stress of what Lori and Shane had been and not with the pressure on how a leader should guide his people instead of continuing to let them down, again, and again.

On the days where the refuge of the farm had gotten too much to bare, you found yourself nearing the swamp, never too close to the walkers but close enough to hear the calming sound of the stream. It wasn't as if anybody would notice your disappearance on camp anyway… to them, you were invisible, an extra mouth to feed and you hated how it had started to make you feel, so much so you were genuinely starting to consider the offer Shane had placed infront of you a few days prior.

You spent most your days on the farm drowning them out, sitting by the stream writing whatever you could in your journal. Recently, the pages of your journal had only been on Rick... little poems on how sweetly he had spoken to you, quick sketches of his face peppered with salt and pepper stubble as the sun set on the farm… you knew it was silly and most of all, you knew it was wrong. But, could anybody really blame you? Rick was a handsome man and there was no harm in fantasising a little, right?

but it wasn't just a fantasy.

Rick had began to notice your drifting away from camp, disappearing in the early mornings or into the late hours of the night. But this evening after Lori had finally decided her secrets were worth telling, he acted on impulse, needing to clear his head and walked down to where he knew you would be hiding.

The snap of a twig in the growing darkness of the greene’s woods made you jump, clutching your well-used pocket knife in your twitching hand as you turn, heart racing faster than it had in months.

‘only me darlin’’

rick says gently, making you aware of his presence as he moved slowly towards your smaller form, not wanting to scare you. A hint of a smile finds its way onto his face, just noticeable in the only light of the moon creeping through the tree branches.

You sigh softly, letting your grip, still held tight, against the ruggedness of your pocket knife drop inside your pocket, closing the journal which lays beside your feet and beginning to stand. He looks even more beautiful in this lighting and you hate yourself even more as you are already making a mental note of this image of him in your head, stored away inside your brain for the nights you want to get off to something you wished didn't have to be somebody already claimed.

‘I know , I shouldn’t be out here… I'm sorry’

You already begin to apologise, a common habit of yours seen already from Rick at camp. You're not able to meet his eyes, to ashamed from what you were just thinking and instead, move o return back to camp. However, he stops you, reaching out and taking your smaller hand in his own. He’s surprisingly warmer against your numbed skin and the feel of another’s skin against your own is foreign but, nice. He lets his thumb move against the skin, just below your own ever so softly before meeting your eyes and gently, taking his other hand to cup your cheek, providing more warmth for your bleak skin.

For a second, Rick dosen't think about Lori. Or Shane. Or the family that he had here. The only thing that can form inside Rick Grime's head is how it finally felt to hold your face in his palm, how it had felt so right. The amount of nights he had imagined himself doing this, letting his thumb graze against your lips and taking you right where the both of you stood. What scared him the most was that he nearly had.

‘should be gettin’ back to camp, t’s dark.’

With that, he drops his hand, retreating the piece of flesh as if it has been burned to the touch and placing it back into his warmer pocket, retreating away from yourself. before the silence between the two of you is broken by the sound of your voice cutting through it.

‘i'm leaving rick.’

You announce, leading the man to turn back, right eyebrow slightly raised in confusion as his eyes skim over your softened features once again, taking them in as the seriousness of your words slowly start to sink in.

‘shane wants to go and- and so do I. I don't belong here rick, y’know that better than anybody. i'm causing problems and you, you don’t need that, not from me, not now’

You admit, words slightly hoarse as they come out your throat but still, you hold your ground. It was the right thing to do, you were sure of it and you knew that deep down, he was too. You couldn’t continue to stay in a place where you knew you weren't welcome and stirring problems... it would never work out for you, you didn't expect it too, Not when the man you loved too dearly wasn't yours.

‘don't be tellin’ me what i need y/n, you dont- you dont have to leave, especially with- with Shane. You aint cousin' no problems, not for me.’

Rick begins to explain, words coming out a little more frantic than he had hoped they would as he found himself placing his own hand across yours again, eyes focused to your face once again. If anybody was causing problems it was Shane, he should be leaving by himself, not dragging you down with him. He wouldn't allow it.

‘Let's get you back to the farm and, we'll- we’ll talk about this, properly.’

his thumb moves in its regular motion against the crease of your own as he had done before to soothe you, to try and make you believe in what he was saying. But it just wasn’t cutting.

‘I'm sorry Rick, i'm going’

You let go of his hand with that, holding what little self respect you had for yourself left and walking away from the conversation, back to the camp. In the morning you would be gone, set off down the highway with Shane, away from the group who had never accepted you as their own but also, departed from the one man who’s soul had been torn apart onto your pages at the hands of yourself, now to be carried with you for however long you were to survive without him.

The thought had your body running cold but, you dismissed it, climbing into the little space you had been given in your tent and setting off to bed. Tomorrow, you would be rid of this farm, rid of all the bad luck you had been carrying with you and onto these people but most of all, rid of Rick.

He just couldn’t see you go, not without the goodbye he so desperately needed.

You didn’t know how long you had been asleep. A few hours, a few minutes. It didn’t matter now. The feel of somebody’s colder fingers tracing against your now warmer skin had led you to stir, a slight movement made half-asleep, welcoming the fingers that were now moving upwards of your inner thigh. You hadn’t fully woken up yet, hadn’t fully opened your eyes but, the feel of hard lips pressed against your pulse point and the pressure of another body on your own led you to awake this time.

‘Rick?, what- what are you’m doing’

you murmur as the man creeps on top of you, sturdy hands moving to press your thighs apart and you cant help but moan softly when he does so, the feel of his growing erection pressed against your most needed area feeling exquisite and, you couldn't help but feel the need for more. This was crazy, this was wrong… but you weren’t about to back out now, and neither was he.

‘dropped that lil book of yours, had a quick read- couldn’t let ya’ leave all riled up now could i?’

He whispers with a soft grunt, belt buckle clinking against itself as he begins to rid himself of his trousers, needing to feel himself inside of you like he had wished for so long, craved for so long.

You must have completely forgotten about the journal, left it by the swamp after your talk with Rick. Fuck. He must’ve seen everything from the small doodles to the poems written on how the temptations building between the two of you were coming to much to bare, itching to get out of your skin and be acted on. Before you could even ask about what he had read, he pushes inside of you without any warning, body immediately irking up into him and a pathetic whimper falling past your lips before you could stop it.

‘God-‘

Is the only word you can fathom as he settles his thick, pulsating cock inside of you, relishing the feeling of how he felt around your tightening walls before letting himself move against them, pleasuring the both of you with it.

‘couldn't let you go- not without doin’ this...'

He grunts against you, burying his face up against the cuff of your neck, teeth grazing your pulse point before settling down onto it lightly. His hands move on impulse up your body, touching whatever he could feel as his movements into you came into a regular rhytmn, a rhythm which had you whimpering softly beneath him.

‘s’good. knew you’d be- always knew’

He admits lowly into your ear as he kisses up your neck, body consumed by the fire and no longer caring for the burns he would receive, only the feel of you beneath him and the noises which had him hurling towards his finish faster than he had been expecting. He speeds himself up in a second, touching you in the places you needed the most so you would come and finish with him, needing to feel you squeeze around himself.

‘rick- rick im gonna,’

‘yeah, yeah- let go f’me’

he grunts again, sweat glimmering off of his skin, reflecting off the candle light inside of your oil lamp, the only light inside of the tight space of your tent. and as your eyes flickered open, resting upon his own blue ones, you saw past the unbridled lust and instead, the love that was beginning to bloom between the two of you. it was wrong but it was there, something that couldn’t be mistaken and as you found it, your body let go, letting out a cacophony of moans under his palm, eyes still held onto his own in a trance like state, not being able to pull yourself away from the bright blue iris’s that you had sketched so many times before.

Rick found himself leaving a few minutes after the two of you came down, a little lost in his way after the incredible orgasm he had felt but also the other feeling he had felt, one he had known you had too and one that would stick with him a whole lot longer than the fleeting feel of pleasure.. but what was he to do with that new found information? He had a wife, a son. This had been wrong, something he should have never acted on. But he had and now, in just a few hours, you were going to leave him behind and Shane would do the same for Lori.

Everything would be okay again, his family, so broken now, would be fixed again. But what if he didn't want that? If he was to lay next to his sleeping wife and son and read through the pages of your journal for the rest of his life, would that be fair? would that be right? that, that is what he would now have to decide for himself.

© 𝘬𝘺𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥𝘥 2026

@rickgrimesismyboyfriend @kitty-grimes

[stuckinthesun]

Rick Grimes x Reader // 6x11 angst

Warnings: heavy angst, cheating, mention of a panic attack

Don’t actually yell at me if you get upset I warned you

You were on wall duty the night Rick and Daryl brought back some guy they called ‘Jesus’. You had signaled for the gate to be opened and watched as they drove the car in, parking it.

Rick climbed out of the drivers seat just as you finished descending down the ladder, and you quickly jogged up to him giving him a quick peck, “Hey, glad to see you’re back okay.”

“Yeah,” He sighed, clearly tired and frustrated. He gave you a half smile before helping Daryl lug the unconscious man away.

That was the last time you saw your long term boyfriend till very early the next morning. You were on your way home from finishing your shift to find many of your group rushing into your house, weapons drawn.

Alarmed, you instantly took off into a sprint, entering the house right after Maggie and try pushing your way up the stairs.

“Wait Y/N,” Abraham says as you try to move past him, he has his back to you, gun trained on something, and your heart sinks.

“Abe, move.” You easily duck under his arm, and when you stand up you’re instantly confused.

The man from last night is sitting on the stairs, holding a picture and looking extremely confused. Carl, Daryl, and Glenn all have their guns out and pointed at him, but look extremely pissed.

You notice movement behind Carl and that’s when you see it, that’s when you understand.

Rick, standing there, pants undone and struggling to get his shirt on, with Michonne standing behind him in almost the same state. In the doorway of your bedroom.

You just stand there, probably looking stupid, staring at the man you love very obviously come out of bed with another woman.

Rick stares right back at you, his eyes wide, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, until eventually, “Y/N-“

“Daryl, move Jesus to the dining room.” You cut him off, not even thinking just acting. Just going on instinct, remembering that there is a crowd of your family here and that you can’t, you won’t, do this now.

Daryl does as you say without question, grabbing Jesus by the back of his coat and hauling him down the stairs. The rest slowly follow him, sparing glances at the three of you as they go.

Once everyone is out of the general vicinity Rick tries again, “Y/N-“

“No.” You say calmly, looking at the dust on your shoes. It’s more appealing than their guilt and shame, “I want my things out of there at the earliest convenience.”

You turn around and start walking down the stairs, but a hand grabbing your arm stops you, “W-wait, Y/N we can-“

“Don’t!” You yell, the barely held back tears finally forming, and you yank your arm back, “Don’t you touch me! Don’t you ever touch me again!”

You don’t really remember much after that, the panic attack that took over completely removing your memory.

But somehow, you ended up outside, curled up in Maggie’s arms, crying your heart out.

Men are assholes even in the apocalypse🙄

[sc3ptre]

welcome back 🥹

would you ever write for Rick Grimes?

A little more tenderness.

Paring: Rick Grimes x fem! reader ft. 🪸

Masterlist | Who am i? | REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

A/n: Thank you lovely! and why not? Might aswell try some new things. Also working on a masterlist!

Genre: Angsty fluff.

Warnings: none

Era: Post Woodbury prison. Early season 4.

Word count: 0.8k

Rick watched Carl closely as he helped him with the pigs out on the prison's front yard. His son seemed different, avoidant, unusually quiet and when the ex-sheriff caught sight of you at a distance, watching the two of them, the pieces started to fall into place.

“Are you gonna tell me what happened,” Rick said, his voice calm but edged with steel, “or do I have to ask her?”

Carl stopped, hesitating. He turned around just enough to glance your way, then looked down again, getting back to work immediately. He shook his head.

“Nothing” the kid muttered.

His dad sighed. “Let’s try that again…without the lie.” he paused “Carl…she’s been your best friend practically since the start, besides…you wouldn’t be out here helping if she wasn’t busy and I’m pretty sure she isn’t.”

It was no secret Rick had distanced himself from his family after fleeing the farm and through the long, unforgiving winter that followed. His tension with Lori took over his ability to make rational decisions when it came to the baby and Carl’s sudden need for independence and likeness to violence, made it hard for him to regain that father-son complicity they used to have. Then Lori died and you walked out of that cellblock with bloody hands, holding the baby he thought would be the embodiment of his best friend’s and ex-wife’s betrayal. 

He was on the edge then, teetering, close to losing himself entirely if not already doing so but you pulled him back. You kept him grounded, made sure he didn’t lose his way as a leader with the group but most importantly, as a father. You watched over Carl and Judith like they were your own and even now, with a prison full of people and responsibilities, you held him accountable. Not just for their safety but for their hearts.

The ex-sheriff didn’t realise he’d been staring until Carl’s quiet sigh pulled him back.

“I slipped up,” Carl muttered, eyes fixed on the ground. “And now she hates me”

Rick blinked, thrown “Hates you?”

Carl gave a small, miserable shrug “Pretty sure”

Even with the confession out, Rick could tell something was still stuck in his throat. His son caved under no pressure at all, that’s how he knew it was weighing down on him.

Carl’s voice dropped even lower. “I accidentally called her…mom” he paused and winced at his own words. The silence that followed felt too loud, almost accusatory. “It–It just happened, we were having fun and laughing, and…I don’t know. It’s stupid”

Rick’s face mirrored the one you’d worn when Carl had called you mom. It was far from disgust, nor rejection, just sheer surprise laced with some guilt. You had loved Lori, despite everything. Taking care of her kids had never been about replacing her and for Rick, accepting your help was never supposed to shift the way he saw you but somewhere along the way, his gaze softened, a little more tender now, without meaning to be. 

Before he could even answer, the crunch of gravel underfoot broke the silence and there you were. Your smile settled something in his chest, even though he was sure it wasn’t meant for him.

“Morning” you greeted, eyes flicking to Rick for a brief nod before landing on Carl, his followed. “Can I steal him for a second?”

Carl’s eyes silently pleaded with his dad not to agree, but Rick knew this was something the two of you had to work through yourselves. So he nodded, taking the shovel from his son’s hand. “Go”

Carl’s steps were hesitant at first, dragging slightly through the dirt. As he passed you, you ruffled his hair like you often did. 

“Nice try. Go inside,” you said gently “I’ll be there in a second”

You both watched him walk off, and only once he was far enough that voices couldn’t carry, you spoke. “He didn’t do anything wrong” you began softly, reassuring his father “He’s been doing his chores, pulling more weight than anyone his age should and hanging out with the other kids… even though he kinda hates it for the first 2 hours–”

“He told me,” Rick cut in with a nod. His voice was low, unreadable. He didn’t know what else to say, or whether he should be apologizing for putting you in that position in the first place. After a pause, he added,  “Are you okay?”

“Are you?” you echoed softly.

He nodded, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes “He thinks you hate him”

“He knows I don’t” you shook your head with a faint shrug. “It happens. I don’t have enough fingers to count the many times I called my art teacher ‘mom’ growing up” A small smile tugged at your lips before fading. “It just caught me off guard, that’s all. He’s confused. Things are changing fast and now that this place is starting to feel like a home…”

“He’s looking for the thing that’s missing,” Rick finished quietly.

You nodded.

He sighed, gaze dropping to the ground for a moment before meeting yours again “Yeah” he nodded to himself “I don’t think he’s the only one that’s confused”

[radioshepard]

So…

[kitty-grimes]

there’s a lack of established relationship fics with rick! that man is a romantic! he would be fluffy and caring as hell! that’s my request 🥰

♡ something for you ♡

pairing: rick grimes x fem!reader

summary: rick comes home from a long supply run with something special just for you <3 

content: softie!rick, fem!reader, pre-established relationship, alexandria safe zone, smut, a lot of plot before the porn, the porn is worth it though, fluff, a smidgen of angst (just a little bit i promise)

warnings: 18+, gore and blood, loss/grief (canon typical, don't fear), p in v sex, oral sex (m receiving), oral sex (f receiving), use of nicknames: sweetheart, darlin’, baby, honey, pretty girl, (idk what else he be calling you all sorts sweet names though) etc.

word count: 6.8k (omg)

author’s note: eeeep my first request ever! and such a good one- rick being sweet and caring is my favorite version of him (and totally the truth if you ask me). it’s a little longer than i had originally planned, but i hope this is sort of what you had in mind <3 

(also, i just feel like its important to say that i have always been an em dash stan, i would never use chat gpt or any kind of ai in any of my work. this, and my other work i have yet to post is absolutely riddled with em dashes and semicolons and i refuse to let ai take that from me). 

Tag list: @siriusblackloml @twd-bee3 (love y’all hehe), message or comment to be added!

You stare up at the ceiling with dry, tear crusted eyes as you try to keep your mind from vividly imagining every worst-case scenario Rick could be in right now. He and Daryl are away on a long supply run- two weeks across state lines. (Did state lines even really exist anymore? You didn’t care either way. Rick was far). Alexandria was in dire need of essentials: medical supplies, non-perishables, and most of all- ammo, as Eugene was still in the process of getting the ammunition manufacturing under way.

There was almost nowhere within a hundred miles of your community that hadn’t already been picked-over by your people (or others). You wanted to go with Rick instead, insisting that Daryl needed to stay back to keep an eye on things at home. It didn’t matter what you said or how you tried to frame it, Rick wouldn’t budge. Not after what happened last time you went outside the walls. 

~~~~

6 months ago

What was supposed to be a quick supply run up the road to a nearby library in search of books for the kids in the community had turned into almost four days up on a roof by yourself. You were stranded up there with a sprained ankle, a concerningly large (and badly infected) cut that spanned nearly the whole length of your back, and the building was surrounded by walkers.

You’d encountered a small herd of the damn things, far too many for one person to take on. In hindsight, your backpack was loaded down with more books than you should have been carrying; the weight didn’t make for easy fleeing. While desperately trying to find somewhere to hole-up until the walkers pass, you spent too much time checking over your shoulder for danger than looking in front of you. It happened fast, you tripped, hard, over a fallen tree (there goes your ankle) and then stumbled backwards into what looked like a case of broken beer bottles (hence the absolute mess of a cut down your spine) and you were quickly more screwed than you were to begin with. 

Panicking, your eyes flit over your surroundings. You spotted a fire escape in an alleyway between the two closest buildings and pathetically shimmied your way up, ankle already swollen, blood rapidly dampening your shirt. You began to feel dizzy, vision blurring, the sound of walkers below you becoming muffled. Then, just... nothing. 

After waking up from what you assumed was unconsciousness (for how long, you weren’t sure), the first thing you heard was the incessant moaning and groaning of the dead. You suppose they hadn’t given up on you being their next meal. This realization had you springing into action, and then promptly being humbled by your still-swollen ankle and a stinging pain down your back. Taking a deep breath and moving a little slower, you hobbled across the expanse of the building’s roof. You found a weak spot in the roof with just enough give to stomp through with your good foot. You squat down, carefully sliding your way through the small hole; you hit the hard wood of the second floor, gaining only a few more cuts and bruises in the process. You cleared the small building and to your surprise (and your advantage), there were no walkers inside. 

You searched around for something, anything, that would make noise until you found an old clock. It was dusty, you weren't sure it would still work, but you wound it up and waited for the alarm to go off before tossing it out a window as hard and as far as you could, praying- to what? You weren’t sure, nothing really. More so just some wishful thinking that the noise would draw the walkers away from the building long enough for you to make a run (or make a sorry limp) for it. 

For the first time in a long time, something finally went in your favor. All but two walkers were drawn away by the ringing clock, leaving just enough of an opening for you to crawl out the window, quietly killing the two stragglers with your knife. Your trek home is fuzzy in your memory now, but you limped all the way back to Alexandria, collapsing once you finally reached the gates. 

~~~

Which is why, of course, if Rick has any say in the matter, (and he absolutely does), you don’t go on runs on your own anymore. 

Rick never wants his protectiveness over you to come off as controlling, in fact, controlling you is nearly the last thing he wants to do. Your ferocity is one of the qualities he cherishes most about you. In some ways, he thinks that part of you is what makes you feel like part of him. The things he’s done, the things he’s had to do- it never scared you, never once did it make you question him. 

His leadership always had a quiet sort of confidence to it, never overbearing, never taking advantage of his position in your community. Rick really doesn’t want to control you, (not outside of the occasional bedroom shenanigan anyway). He doesn’t want Alexandria's walls to feel suffocating, to make you into some kind of caged little bird. You need to go out there sometimes, so does Rick; it keeps you both grounded. 

However, there are some things he simply has the final say on. So, he made you a compromise- you can go on runs if Daryl or himself are present. Daryl is the only other person on this earth that he would trust to keep you safe. You can keep yourself safe, he knows this, he’s seen it himself. Rick also knows how it works now, out there, outside the walls. Quite frankly, when you’re out of his sight, he’s rendered close to useless- unable to focus on community duties of any kind when he knows you’re out there, when he knows what could happen… what will happen eventually. 

You often think back to the night with the claimers. You remember it vividly- the sun had just begun to rise, soft hues of deep blue and orange tinging his bloodied beard. He looked sort of beautiful in a backwards, tragic way. Rick was horrified with himself, terrified that he’d tarnished himself for you, for Carl. What he didn’t know was that if anything, his actions made your admiration for him grow; a warmth for Rick burgeoned within you that night. You’d all hardly moved an inch since it all went down, the gnashing of his teeth, the unrelenting slash of that machete, all of your breath labored, all of your hands shaking. Hours passed, and the post-chaos silence that was initially comforting was now starting to ring in your ears. You ensured that Carl had his gun in-hand and a knife on his hip before locking him in the car. 

You nodded toward Daryl, he returned the gesture- a silent directive ensuring that someone was alert, watching Rick and Carl’s back. Rick was too zoned out to notice you trek just a few yards into the trees behind where the car were parked on the road. You found a small puddle with just enough moisture to dampen a rag or two; you quickly, quietly stepped out of the woods, back to the others. Daryl’s head whipped around at the snap of a twig, cross bow drawn immediately. His weapon was lowered with the same swiftness when he saw it was you. You nod at each other again. 

You gingerly approached Rick, waiting patiently for him to focus on what was in front of him rather than that bleary-eyed distant stare that he hadn’t seemed to kick just yet (understandably so). Softly, barely audible, you speak, “hey,” his gaze unmoved.

You smile weakly, “hey… Rick?” 

Still, nothing. 

“Honey, hey, c’mon,” you whisper as you take his sticky, reddened hand into yours and press the cold rag directly onto his knuckles. 

He inhales sharply, eyes flitting over your face and briefly over your shared surroundings. No danger detected. “I’m good,” he says plainly, almost as a hopeful affirmation to himself than an honest exclamation. 

“I know,” you assure him, “but we’ve gotta get you cleaned up, yeah?” you wipe his hands reverently, tugging the rag tightly along each finger one by one, scrubbing hard under his nails- you always were thorough when it came to him. He closed his eyes and for a moment it looked like maybe he was relishing your ministrations, morbid as they may have been. 

He followed your lead, tilting his head in all the right directions as you tended to his face, his jaw, and a few loose tendrils of blood crusted hair. 

He says your name quietly, “thank you,” a moment passes, he repeats himself, “thank you.” You shake your head with a fond expression, bringing your hand up to fix his now-clean hair and trace his jaw affectionately. His lips twitch upward ever so slightly at your wordless exchange. Rick thought to himself that maybe this night hadn’t damned him after all, that maybe you weren’t afraid of him after what you saw him do. 

To you, that night didn’t make him cruel-natured, evil, or damned- in fact, it made you think of him quite the opposite. Rick had been willing to sacrifice a piece of his humanity, his sanity that night in order to protect Carl, Daryl, and you. 

And it was nights like these, nights where he was gone, that you found your mind wandering off to unwanted places like that. You hated how cold and empty his side of the bed felt, so you opted to sleep right in the middle of the mattress with one of his pillows pressed up against your back to give yourself the illusion of him still being there to hold you. 

You hated how quiet your shared room was without his heavy breathing and occasional snoring, so you’d cracked your window to let in just enough nighttime noise from outside to soothe you to sleep. 

You know Carl missed him too, that he worried while his dad was away. Judith, young as she may be, can sense you and Carl’s shared anxiety; she cries more than usual, isn’t as easy to put down for a nap, won’t even finish her bottle sometimes. Same-day-return, nearby runs were nothing for your group at this point. It was the long ones, like the one Rick was on now-  two weeks away from home in a town hundreds of miles away- that really tore at your resolve.

You’d been counting, it had been 13 days already, meaning Rick (and Daryl) should be coming home tomorrow. Your mind started to reel. Will he be on time? Will he be later than expected? Will he come home at all? If he does come home, will he be injured? Will he come home alone, defeated? Or will Daryl be with him like he should? A myriad of unfortunate outcomes plagued your imagination. Last time Rick was gone this long, the energy in the house was low and defeated. This time instead of dwelling or repeating your past mistakes, you made yourself (and the kids) busy; you wanted to give them something to distract from the unknown of tomorrow.

Although it might have been a bit juvenile for Carl at this point, you planned a ‘slumber party’ for him and Judith. You’d cleared the living room and lugged a mattress down the stairs, plopping it in the middle of the floor. Gathering all the blankets, pillows, and sheets you could find in the house, you made a sort of makeshift fort- unintentionally, maybe even subconsciously mimicking some of your tent-like setups from being on the road together before Alexandria. 

As night fell, the three of you piled onto the floor-mattress-situation together and by the light of a few gas lanterns, you dramatically read the entirety of Percy Jackson: The Lighting Thief out loud for them (mostly for Carl, as baby Judith was almost immediately soothed to sleep on your chest by the low thrum of your voice.) You’d come home with the whole series on your run-gone-wrong, you figured you might as well make some use of the books you found that day after everything you'd gone through to retrieve them. Carl was engrossed with the story from start to finish. He asked questions, gasped at moments of tension in the plot, and for a while it seemed as though maybe he’d allowed himself to fade into that fictional world, even if only for a moment. This warmed your heart in a way Carl would probably never realize. 

You were an elementary school teacher before all of this. You remember when The Lightning Thief came out, you remember how excited your students were to buy it for themselves at the Scholastic Book Fair. You remember reading it to them during story time on the worn-out rug on your classroom floor. You try hard not to think about the fate of all your kids you taught over the years, where they might (or might not) be now, if they turned or not. You shake your head as if to rid yourself of those thoughts and shift your focus back to the words on the page. 

As you softly utter the final sentences of the book, Carl groans, “that’s it? There has to be more. There’s more right?” 

You laugh, “yeah, yeah buddy there’s more.” 

“Do you have the rest of the books? How many more are there? I-if you don’t have the books, do you remember them well enough to at least give me a summary?” Carl rolled around on the mattress in distress as he rambled on and on. You hadn’t seen him act like this much of a kid in ages. If he’s acting like a kid (which he is a kid after all), then that must mean he feels safe- and if he feels safe with you, you’re doing something right. 

Earlier, you’d put the rest of the books in the series in a stack discreetly under the couch (which was pushed awkwardly up against a wall in order to fit the mattress-fort-situation on the floor).

“It’s your lucky day Carl Grimes” you say as you reach back to grab the stack of books from behind you. A wide grin stretches across his face as he takes the stack from your hands. He thumbs over each cover one by one, reading the blurbs and looking up at you every now and then.

“Do you want to hold on to them for me?” he asked, softer now, since Judith was fast asleep. 

“Why’s that? I thought you might stay up all night tonight reading the next one. Book two is…” you shuffle through the novels, “this one, Sea of Monsters. Between you and me, it's the best one.” 

“I was actually hoping maybe you’d read it to me, like you did tonight. It was fun, you do good voices for everyone and… I don’t know, it's nice to just listen I guess. It's kinda like watching a movie again,” He says, almost vulnerably. 

The teacher that is still somewhere within you wants to encourage him to read for himself, that it was important for him to learn. But you knew what was more important was that Carl wanted to spend time with you; you didn’t let him see, but a few tears welled up in your eyes then. Not letting them fall, you grin to yourself, satisfied, as though the hell you went through on that run was worth it for this small, fleeting moment right here. 

“I’d love to. Maybe tomorrow when your dad gets back, we can all start the second book together, does that sound good?” Carl's face dropped a little bit. You shouldn’t have mentioned Rick, not when you had successfully distracted everyone tonight. It's like your mind couldn't help but bring him up, willing him to come home, speaking it into existence. 

“Yeah, I think he’d like that.” Carl says plainly. 

A few silent moments pass before you speak up, “listen buddy, let’s get some rest, yeah?” 

“Yeah, thanks again for reading tonight. It was cool.” Carl attempts a smile in your direction before taking his hat off, covering himself with a quilt, and rolling over onto his pillow. The moonlight shone through the living room windows as you dim the lanterns and tuck Judith close to your chest, getting under the mess of pillows and blankets yourself. Carl’s soft breathing and the occasional coo from Judith cause your eyes to flutter shut on their own, and for the first time in two weeks, you fall asleep almost instantly. 

~~~

The following morning, (and after briefly glancing outside, it was still the middle of the night; the sun hadn’t even begun to rise) you wake up abruptly to the sound of wood creaking and boots thudding across the floor upstairs. What was Carl doing awake so early? Maybe he wanted to go and sleep the rest of the night in his room. You rub your eyes and look to your left to find Carl fast asleep next to you.

Someone was in the house. Quietly, you move Judith off of your chest and prop her up on a pillow, shushing her softly while grabbing your gun that laid on the floor next to where you slept (as normal as things feel sometimes, you’ve never found it in you to sleep unarmed, and in a moment like this, you’re grateful to have not let your guard down.) 

You inch up the stairs, careful not to make a sound. The noise was coming from your room, shit. Okay, breathe. Breathe. You try to lower your own heart rate a bit before moving up the last few steps. 

Gun drawn, you round the corner of the upstairs hallway and take a deep breath before kicking open the door to your room; what you find makes your heart drop, hard. 

Standing in front of you was Rick, throwing his hands up in surrender, bearing that fond, affectionate, and slightly cocky smile at you. You place your gun onto the dresser before all but throwing yourself into his chest. 

“Easy there sweetheart, it's just me,” he breathes, lowering his hands from his surrender to engulf you in a hug. His grip around you was firm, one hand around your waist, the other petting over your messy bed head. He pressed a series of lazy kisses to the top of your hair as your body slowly shifted from fight or flight (well, full blown fight) to safe, relieved, home. 

You bury your face into his shoulder, breathing him in. He smelled like Rick, a mix of the woody outdoors, sweat, and something warm (if warm smelled like anything, it was him). 

“What are you doing home so early? I thought you wouldn’t be back till after dinner tonight… an-and what are you doing creeping around our house like that? I almost shot you, you know that?” you ramble, your condemnations deeply unserious. 

“Daryl and I, we couldn’t get any rest knowing it was almost time to come home… figured we’d just go ahead and take off, drive through the night instead of waitin’ for the mornin’. Got on the road before sunset yesterday. I was thinkin’ I’d be able to surprise you this mornin’, but someone,” he pinched your hip, “is too light a sleeper, soiled my little plan,” he smirks down at you, your chin on his chest, head angled up toward him. 

“And what was this little plan, Mr. Grimes?” you giggle a little bit, mind still reeling from the fact that he’s here, he made it home. 

“I’d wanted to let you sleep a while,” his southern drawl drawing out that last word, “do my best to make a quiet breakfast for us,” he rubs your back softly, his fingers mindlessly trailing over the long raised scar there, “I’d wake you up, doin’ my best to keep the kids asleep and take you out to the porch to eat with me, catch up while we watch the sun rise,” you roll your eyes, he was so corny sometimes (as much as you always pretended you don’t, you loved it, and he knows it). 

You think to yourself how nice that would have been, waking up to the scratch of his beard on your cheek as he whispered something sweet in your ear to wake you. You play with the collar of his shirt, messing with the fraying seam as you exhale, mumbling into his chest “missed you Rick.”

“Missed you too honey,” he cradles your face in both hands now, leaning down to press a firm, chaste kiss to your lips, “missed you so much. Thought about you every day,” he says, lips still on yours as he speaks. You smile into the kiss, he does too, and you just stay there for a while, lips lightly touching, hands roaming, both of your breathing becoming heavy quickly. You graze your hands down his front to fumble with his thick belt and holster. 

“Needy girl, hmm?” Rick says affectionately. 

“Oh c’mon, like you’re not just waiting for your chance to pounce,” you smirk at him knowingly. It is sweet that he tried to wait though, what a gentleman, you think to yourself. He cranes his neck back in a weak laugh, a silent way of saying, ‘ya caught me.’ You unbutton his shirt, tossing it to the floor along with his belt (which thudded a little louder than you would have liked. The thought unspoken, you both wanted the kids to stay sleeping for a while). Your hands greedily graze over his now bare shoulders, squeezing his biceps, raking your nails down his front. 

He leads you to your shared bed and plants a sloppy kiss to your temple, sitting you up against the headboard and getting on top of you in the process. His voice low and gravelly, he moves his face up next to your ear, his beard (slightly grown out from his time away) scratching against your cheek,  “I know you like it when I spell things out for you baby, I can do that for you,” he nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck, breathing you in and exhaling hot breath over your chest. “Want me to talk you through it? You like when I talk a lot huh? Been missin’ my voice, missin’ me?” That all-too-familiar confidence slowly lacing his words again. As annoying as it might be, you’re just happy he’s acting like himself, it tells you that maybe nothing particularly traumatizing happened on the run. Maybe it did, who knows. What you do know is that he’s here, now, with you. 

You nod at him and maintain eye contact as you say, “Mhmm,” sighing sweetly. 

“Could you be more clear, baby? What is it that you want?” He taunts, smirking, he wants to hear you. 

“Talk me through it Rick, need to hear your voice. Need to know you're really here. Whisper in my ear, do whatever you want, j-just talk to me, yeah?” you admit. You became desperate much quicker than you’d planned on. But fuck it, two weeks is too long. 

“You taste so good you know,” he kisses you, licking his way into your mouth, this kiss much naughtier than the last, “your lips,” he bites down on your neck, “and your pussy,” he runs his large hands up under your sleep shirt (one of his shirts), “but your skin,” he groans from deep within his chest, “even your skin tastes good,” his hands rake up and down the sides of your torso, like he can’t find the perfect spot to settle down. 

You open your mouth to thank him for the compliment, but he cuts you off, “how do you want it honey? What does my sweet girl want from me, hmm? I’ll give you anything, you just say the word,” he babbles into your chest, nipping and biting the skin around your breasts as he upholds his promise of letting you hear him. He’s needy. He continues to lovingly bite your shoulders, your collarbones, your neck, you’re so distracted you forgot there was even a question to be answered, “I’m waiting, baby,” he says feigning impatience. 

“Just want you,” your voice breathy and quiet, again- trying to make sure Carl and Judith stay asleep so you can enjoy yourselves for a while. 

“Quiet that pretty little head of yours. Matter of fact, I’ll do that for you. Just lay back baby. Just lay back and listen to me, okay? Can you do that for me?” His words are like honey, sweeter, somehow. He looks at you like you’re the most precious thing in the world when he speaks to you. 

“Yes,” you answer more pathetically than you intended. He makes his way down to your clothed sex. Gently parting your legs so he can settle in between them.

“Yes, who?” He asks, smirking up at you, massaging your thighs as he waits for your answer. 

You aren’t sure what response he’s looking for. You’ve learned he’s quite fond of a yes sir, or a, yes daddy, on a rare occasion. But most of all, he loves to hear his own name- because, of course he does. 

“Yes, Rick,” you look straight into his tired eyes as you say his name, twirling one of his curls around your finger.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he says. My girl rolls off his tongue like he’s said it to you a hundred times- and at this point, he has. You’d been together since around the time the prison fell, just after. Your stomach churns, butterflies so intense it would almost feel like anxiety if you didn’t know better. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of the pajama pants you had on (also his), and looks at you sweetly before asking, “may I?”

The fact that he even asks at this point is something you find so endearing about him, he was so reverent with you, always. You nod at him, lifting your hips to help him get you undressed. He tosses them onto the nightstand and kisses up your inner thighs, licking a stripe from your knee to your pussy, teeth grazing along the way. He blows cold air along the stripe he just licked, you arch your back at the sensation. 

He drags his finger up and down your pussy lips, never touching the entrance, and strategically avoiding your clit, teasing motherfucker, “I promise I’m gonna reward you, for all of your good behavior while I was gone baby. Do you trust me? Do you think I can reward you well? Give you what you need?” He’s just talking to talk, but you’re eating up every word like it's your last meal. 

“I know you will,” you say earnestly. 

“That’s right. That’s fuckin’ right,” he threads his fingers up the back of your neck into your hairline, tugging. He nearly growls, but you’ve never minded his possessive side, you find it quite attractive actually.  

He kissed below your belly button, hands splayed wide across your stomach, squeezing everywhere he touched “thought about you every damn second I was gone, you know that?” You nod, he accepts your wordless response this time. He finally stops teasing you and presses his whole mouth to your sex. Tongue darting in and out of your seeping entrance, nose pressed flush to your clit, stimulating it as he moves his face against you. You cry out quietly and lace your fingers through the soft locks of his hair, holding on for dear life. He separates himself from you for only a moment to take a breath before diving back in. He licks featherlight ministrations onto your clit with his tongue, the barely-there sensation nearly throwing you over the edge. He inserts a long, thick finger into you, a humiliating squelching noise ensuing when he adds a second. You untangle your fingers from his hair to cover your face.

With his free arm, he takes both of your wrists in one hand, pulling them away from your face. Talking into your pussy, muffled, he says, “no ma’am, I want to see you. Can’t miss a single second of this.” He wasn’t lying, you’re not sure he has so much as blinked since you two have been in his room together this morning. Your eyes roll back into your head, he’s devoted to you.

“Rick, I- I’m,” you stutter.

“I know sweet thing, let go, I’ve got you.” He releases your wrists and places one hand on each hip, hiking your legs over his shoulders so he could bury his face impossibly deeper into you. Using the flat of his tongue, he sends you into complete euphoria. You whisper his name over and over, hands fumbling around to find purchase on him, you land back in his hair, tugging, more like yanking at the strands. He groans into your pussy as you pull and tug from the roots of his hair.

Hugging your leg and leaning his cheek against your inner thigh in a lazy, boy-ish sort of way, he sighs “fuck, you’re perfect. I could do that all day,” he pauses, nibbling the plush skin of your thigh, “actually, can I? You want more honey? I’ve got more to give, been too long, need some more of ya,” he doesn't even let you answer before he connects his mouth with your pussy again. You haven’t even finished riding out your first orgasm before he starts working you up for the second time. 

“Rick, Rick, hey, f-fuck,” you struggle with your words as he eats you out again, “Rick!” he doesn’t let up, only quickens his pace at your pleading with his name, “f-fuck, Grimes! Cut it out!” He instantly pulls back, replacing his tongue with his thumb as he draws lazy circles over your sensitive bud. 

He frowns, directing a childish pout toward you, “hey, what did I do to make you call me that? You never call me that anymore,” he’s so cute. He's referring to you calling him by his last name, something you did before you two were doing anything worth mentioning. Calling him by his first name didn't come until later, oddly enough.

“I was just trying to get your attention, and it worked,” you stutter, “I- I’m close again I,” you lose your words as he picks up the pace yet again. He effortlessly inserts two fingers into your entrance and instantly finds that gummy sweet spot, putting all his focus there. 

“That’s the idea,” he smirks, “sorry baby, I’m a little selfish. I wanted one more out of you, can you give me that? I’ve been so sweet, so good to you. Don’t you think so?” He doesn’t give you time to answer before asking, “did you miss me enough to give me another one? Hmm?” God his voice really does do things to you. 

You moan, high pitched, sugar sweet moans, breathier with every passing second. He knows what you need, so he leans up and kisses you slowly and sweetly as he continues to rut his fingers against your g-spot, the friction of his palm stimulating your clit. Unfortunately for you, it was his kiss that ultimately sent you over the edge. You were so much sappier with him than you'd like to let on (this matters to you for no reason at all), but it's still so embarrassing. You moan into his open mouth as you come for him again. Mumbles of Rick, and please, and love you, love you so much, thank you, spill from your pretty lips. 

He makes sure you’ve finished completely before pulling his fingers out. He slowly separates his pointer and middle finger into a peace sign shape, making a lewd scene of your juices connecting his fingers together. He uses his free hand to grab your face gently, angling it so you can look him right in the eyes as he puts his them in his mouth, groaning low and deep as he licks the taste of you off of his own fingers. 

“Such a good girl, y’always are. Thank you for lettin’ me do that darlin’, I really did enjoy myself,” he says with that devilish, yet adoring smirk of his. He kisses your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, and your chin before pressing a final, sweet, slow kiss to your lips, “I love you, you know that?” He whispers into your ear. 

“I do,” you say, blissed out and a little dizzy, “I love you too, y’know that?” You drawl, mimicking his accent with a loving smile on your face. You attempt to gather yourself after back-to-back orgasms and try to do something other than just lay there and be pretty. 

You motion for him to take your spot, he positions himself eagerly and comfortably, sitting up against the headboard as you had been just moments before. You kneel between his legs and fold your hands in your lap, this alone makes him groan, palming his own length at the mere sight of you. Your hair, even more disheveled now, falls over your shoulders as you lean forward to place your hand over his, “let me?”

“When you ask so nicely, how could I say no?” He smiles at you, cupping your face and rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone. You palm him through his underwear, he’s stretching the fabric so tight you can see the faint outline of a vein. You start to salivate just thinking about having him in your mouth again. You never liked giving head before Rick, it always felt like an unfortunately necessary step to getting fucked, never something you actually enjoyed. With him, you craved it.

You untuck him from the restraint of his underwear, tugging them down his legs. You bend over, arching your back at an irresistible angle in order to have your face level with his cock. You give him a look he’s come to know all too well. You cup his balls, massaging them for a moment before making kitten licks up his length from the base to the tip. When you get to the tip, you savor the salty droplets of precum beading at his slit. You take the head of his dick into your mouth, sucking and hollowing your cheeks out. You want to tease him like he teased you, but it seems like the act of pleasuring you was more than enough foreplay for Rick.

He threads his large hands into your hair, one hand alone engulfing nearly your entire skull. He scratches your scalp gently as you work to take him all the way, giving you sweet words of encouragement with each inch you take. When his tip hits the back of your throat, you relax, breathing through your nose so he can intrude further down your throat. Making sure to focus on relaxing, your nose finally hits his abdomen, nuzzling into the messy, rough curls down there; his whole length inside your mouth now. He moans, a little breathier this time (you secretly like him like that). He tightens his grip on your hair, yanking you up off of his cock.

You scoff slightly, you’d barely gotten started, “what the hell Rick?”

“Sweetheart I’m uh- I’m a lot closer than you might think,” he laughs, you blush. The thought of him being that close just from pleasuring you has you hot all over again. He pets your hair sweetly before speaking again, “wanna make sure I’m able to give you what you really need,” he thumbs across your cheek with a gentle caress, “How do you want it, pretty baby? How can I make you feel the best? I’ll do it however you like.” He’s sort of begging. You sort of like it. God, you missed him. 

You look at him in a mischievous sort of way, “lemme get on top, you’ve done quite enough old man,” you giggle, knowing he equally loves and hates when you call him that. 

“Yeah, we’ll see if you’re still laughin’ once this old man is stuffed inside of you, won’t we darlin’,” he pinches your hips, all love, no malice. You climb on top of him, straddling his hips as you rub yourself along his length a few times before putting him right where you want him. 

“Take your time honey, I know it takes you a second to adjust, it's been a while, I’ve got you,” he holds up the weight of your body like it's nothing. You slowly sink down onto him, yelping a little bit when he bottoms out, a small, barely-there tear falls down your cheek. He notices (because, of course he does), and swiftly kisses it away, licking the salty liquid from the side of your face.

“You okay pretty girl?” He checks in. 

You sniffle a little bit, “yes, yeah s-sorry. Just so full, f-fuck. I..” you groan slowly as you sit all the way on his cock, allowing him to stretch you out before moving up and down.

“Not laughin’ now are we?” He says into your ear, he’s so sexy, “you’ve done enough sweets, let me do the work, let me make you feel good” he’s so sweet. And somehow, without removing his cock from your sweet cunt, he flips you so you’re underneath him, both legs now slotted over his shoulders, strong arms caging you in, “I know what you need, I know best, you said it yourself baby,” He has you nearly folded in half in this position, hitting it at an angle that’s resulting in some alarming sounds from you.

“Look at you, I wish you could see yourself. You look so beautiful when you’re all fucked out for me, how are you baby? Tell me, tell me how good it is. That’s it, say my name,” he’s babbling, you can tell he’s getting close as his movements start to falter.

“I love you, love you- love you… f-fuck,” he mumbles into your open mouth, tongues and teeth clashing. You reach your high just before he spills into you, your legs are trembling, your breath shaking. He repeats your name over and over, burying his face into your neck, between your breasts, leaving kisses everywhere he can. 

He continues to pepper your sensitive skin with kisses, beard scratching along the way, leaving a buzzing sensation in its wake. He smooths your hair down as you catch your breath, collapses onto you, engulfing you in his embrace and rolling over so you’re splayed on top of him, nearly lifeless. He giggles at your exhausted state, continuing to run his fingers through your hair, scratching your scalp, kissing your cheek.

“Breathe with me,” he says, inhaling for a few moments, exhaling for longer. Again, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. He does this until you’ve fully caught your breath, you look up and meet his gaze, you can almost feel his blue eyes burning into you right now. 

“Please don’t leave for that long again,” you ask, earnestly, tracing patterns on his jaw and down his neck “y-you can go sometimes. I know you have to but, just maybe not for that long. It's hard on me, n’ I think it's hard on Carl and Judith too.” 

“I was thinkin’ the same thing honey. I won’t. That’s too long to be out there now, Daryl thinks so too,” he kisses your cheek, “but uh,” he leans over the side of the bed to grab his pants, what for? You wonder internally. 

“I brought back somethin’ for you, hopefully to make up for it, for me bein’ gone so long,” he digs into the pocket of the jeans he’d been wearing and pulls out a small carved wooden figurine- two cats nuzzling one another. Instantly, your eyes welled up at the gesture. 

Before all of this, you had two cats. They were everything to you, you were sort of one of those pretty, young, crazy-cat-ladies in the making. Your cats loved each other, they snuggled with one another every day, they both slept with you in your bed every night. You missed them dearly, and Rick knew this- you’d confided in him a few times about how you wish there could have been a way for you to save them, bring them along somehow. You took the figurine from his calloused hands and rubbed the pads of your fingers against the smoothed wooden texture. 

“Reminded me of your little guys you talk about,” Rick spoke softly, rubbing your back gently, “it also sorta reminded me of us,” he was smiling now, “I’m the bigger one, obviously-” he nudges you, trying to keep the moment sentimental but lighten the mood all the same. 

“Thank you,” you look at him with bleary eyes, “seriously, thank you. This is- this is really special to me,” you stare at the figurine for a moment longer before leaning over, giving it a home on your nightstand. 

You two had been upstairs a little longer than you both had realized, the sun was rising now. Giving each other a knowing look, you clean up, get dressed, and head downstairs to give Carl and Judith the good news, daddy’s home. 

The four of you had a rather domestic day, everyone in town giving you both the day off from chores or tasks to just be together for a while.  That night when it was time to wind down, as promised, you started reading the next book for Carl- his dad did enjoy it, your silly voices, the drama, he relished every moment of it. What he reveled in more than anything however, was seeing you just slot right into this family, your family.

[grave-robbedd]

Inferno :: abandon all hope, ye who enter here

[aronyflo]

[kitty-grimes]

wowieeeee

[kitty-grimes]

★ no more games ★

part 2 to playing games

pairing: rick grimes x fem!reader

summary: rick finally takes it upon himself to have you the way he wants. read part 1 here!

content: age gap (rick is in his late 30's reader is in her early-mid 20's), gentleman!rick, fluff, smut, fluffy smut, porn with plot, i can't help myself, the smut is worth it i promise, rick is a munch, alexandria safe zone, no use of y/n

warnings: 18+, explicit sexual content, p in v sex, oral sex- m receiving, oral sex- f receiving, dirty talk, use of pet names (baby, honey, sweetheart, etc.)

word count: 7.6k

author’s note: PART TWO IS HERE <3 smutty smut as promised. everyone can thank @twd-bee3 for the initial request that inspired this two-part fic! and a HUGE thanks to @tinytownn for beta reading this. you are the GOATTT. reblogs always appreciated :3

You pull away for a moment to catch your breath, Rick’s grasp still firm on either side of your face. You touch your lips softly with your fingers, feeling a little shy. 

“I-uh,” you stutter, Rick’s panting distracting you from your thoughts. 

“Everything okay, sweetheart?” Rick asks, the nickname disorienting you even more. 

You nod. 

“You sure?” He pushes.

You reassure him by kissing him again, climbing on top of his lap and straddling him. The already-hard bulge in his jeans is making you giggle into his mouth. 

“Listen, I’ve been thinkin’ about you – this – for a while. Cut an old man some slack, will ya?” Rick teases. 

“No more day dreaming then,” you palm him through the thick denim, getting even more excited when you feel how well endowed he is. 

Rick’s breath catches in his throat, huffing out a needy moan against your cheek. His breath is hot on your skin. Suddenly, he grabs both of your wrists in one hand, stopping you. He takes a deep breath, almost as though he was re-centering himself before speaking. 

 “Be patient for me, honey,” he whispers, pressing his lips to your forehead, “wanna do this right.” You lean further into his touch, grinding your hips down onto him– wanting more. This makes him close his eyes and groan. 

“What d’you mean?” You ask with a shamelessly cute pout on your face. Rick wonders if you’re making this impossible on purpose. 

Knowing her, she definitely is, Rick thinks to himself.  

“Don’t want you thinkin’ this is all I want from you,” he squeezes your upper thigh, grazing over the zipper of your jeans as he says this. 

You feel a little disappointed at the thought of not getting to jump his bones right this second. You also admire how sweet it is that after all this time, Rick still wanted to try to take things slow with you.

“Okay, yeah” you say, trying to mask the fact that this is ever-so-slightly bruising your ego-- but you can’t help but blush at his reasoning. You card your fingers through his curls, holding intense eye contact with him. He leans in close to your ear, continuing to massage your thighs.

“You know I want you,” he says, voice low and gravelly, “I just don’t want to mess this up.” He’s earnest. 

“I know,” you say, matching his sincerity. 

“Let me do this right. Wanna take you on a date, pick you some flowers, a version of something normal, something nice. Yeah?” He sounds almost nervous as he says this. You sort of find it endearing. 

“That sounds really nice, Rick. I’d love that,” you say, leaning forward to give him a sloppy kiss on his scruffy cheek, earning a toothy grin from him. 

“Alright, then.” He says, sighing contently. He envelops you in his arms now, pulling you forward to lay on his chest. 

The two of you relish in the moment for a while, the comfortable silence calming your system. Any anger or resentment you felt towards him before this evening was slowly melting away. You don’t want to let him in too quickly, but you don’t want to shut him out either. 

Maybe he’s right about taking things slow, you ponder internally. 

The sun has nearly set now, you’d almost fallen asleep. However, you don’t want to overstay your welcome. You yawn and sit upright, still on his lap. 

“I should uh- be gettin’ home soon,” you say as though you have anyone waiting on you– you have a house to yourself in Alexandria. You peel yourself off of him and head towards his front door, bending down to put your shoes back on. 

He stands too, stretching his arms above his head (his exposed, curly happy trail distracting you for a split second). 

“Got places to be?” He asked, thinking maybe your night shift on the lookout had slipped his mind.

“Nope,” you say with a pop, “just thought you might enjoy an evening to yourself without the kiddos for once. Didn't wanna intrude.” 

A quiet moment passes. 

“I’d like it if ya did,” Rick says, a boyish look on his face, C’mon, just a little while longer?” he asks, grabbing both your hands and rubbing circles on your palms with his thumbs. 

You leaned against his door frame, staring up at him with a love sick look in your eyes. You debate with yourself for a moment, trying to figure out how to avoid pouncing on him if you’re here a second longer. 

Then you think to yourself- How could I say no to him when he’s looking at me like that?

“What’re we gonna do?” you ask. In that moment, you realize you and Rick have never really ‘hung out,’ before. There wasn’t time for anything like that until very recently. 

“You play cards?” He asks. 

“Used to, yeah,” you reply. 

“I found a deck on a run not too long ago. Carl wasn’t interested in learnin’ how to play anything, but I’m holdin’ on to ‘em hoping someone will indulge me,” he raises his eyebrows at you with a soft smile. 

“Can-do, Grimes,” you take off your shoes, again. 

~~~

You and Rick enjoy a few beers while you play Gin Rummy. For just a moment here with him at his kitchen table, you forget about the dead outside, you forget about any fight that inevitably awaits– all you can think about is if he’s holding onto the ace of hearts you need to win this game. 

“Y’know, there was a time not too long ago… that I didn’t think I’d ever get to do this again,” he says, voice low and a tinge vulnerable. 

“Do what?” You ask. 

“Just- this. Wasn’t sure I’d ever see a day where I was able to stop long enough to play cards again, have a drink or two,” he fiddles with the bottle cap from his beer, “Or enjoy someone’s company.”

 Anytime he starts to talk like this, you just listen; if Rick Grimes is opening up, you want to give him the space to do so. You move slowly, like he’s some stray dog and you’re trying to avoid scaring him off. 

The admission hits you like a truck. It’s as though he’d read your mind. 

“I get that,” you fiddle with the two remaining cards in your hand, “I’m having a really nice time, Rick,” you say, trying to assure him you were more than okay with not going any further than this tonight. 

His eyes scan the cards in his hand, grunting before begrudgingly discarding exactly what you’ve been waiting for. The ace of hearts. You try to mask the look of excitement on your face. 

It’s your turn now. You eagerly pick up his ace from the discard pile, join it with the two other aces already in your hand, and lay them down on the table. 

“Gin!” You say, excitedly. 

“Shit- I knew you were waitin’ on that card. Shoulda’ held onto it a little longer, dammit,” Rick hated losing, but he loved seeing you happy. 

“What do I get for winning?” You say with a devilish smirk on your face. 

Mustering every ounce of self-restraint he has, Rick lets out a soft laugh and scoots his chair out from the table a little bit, patting his thigh. 

You all but prance over to him and sit nicely on his lap, eagerly waiting for your reward. 

“Winners get kisses,” he says before greedily attaching his lips to yours. This time, you instantly part your lips for him, begging for him to explore you with his tongue. He obliges, licking and moaning shamelessly into your mouth. His hands wander all over your figure, mapping you out, memorizing you. 

God, if he kisses you much longer he won’t be able to stick to his plan– Rick is nothing if not a man of his word. He pulls back from the kiss, a large hand still tangled in your hair. Your pupils are blown out and your lips are sweetly swollen from his kiss.

He takes a mental picture. If this is how she looks now, imagine how she’ll look stuffed full of my cock. 

Rick internally scolds himself for the lewd thought. 

“I think I’m gettin’ sleepy, Rick,” you say truthfully. It was getting late, and the beers had caught up to you. He scratches at your scalp now and you nudge into his palm, almost cat-like. 

“I know, darlin’. Let me walk you home?” He asks. 

“I’d like that,” you say, smiling. 

You were about halfway back to your house when Rick laces his fingers with yours, squeezing once interlocked. The action makes your stomach tighten, even in your tired state. 

He walks you all the way to your front door step and gives you a chaste, sweet kiss on the lips. A kiss that said, there’s more where that came from, I promise. 

~~~

Over the course of the next week, you and Rick are like a couple of giddy high schoolers– sneaking around Alexandria between shifts to steal kisses from one another where no one can see, winking or smiling at each other from up in the watch towers. He’s even been coming to your porch every evening just to tell you goodnight and to, “see your pretty face one last time today.” 

~~~

It had been a little over a week since your conversation with Rick now. You were nearing the end of your shift in the garden when you heard a familiar pair of boots knocking against the pavement in your direction. Without turning around to face him, you speak. 

“‘Afternoon, officer,” you say, wrist deep in dirt as you turn the compost over. 

“How’d you know it was me?” He asks, genuinely curious.

“Those damn boots, they give you away every time,” you crane your neck around to look up at him from your crouched position. His thumbs are looped into his gun belt and that constable uniform is tight in all the right places. You make sure to keep eye contact, not letting your gaze go below his belt for long. 

Focus. 

“I was wonderin’ if you were free this evening after you finish up here?” he asks. He knows the answer, already having looked at your schedule.

“I sure am, what do you have in mind?” You ask, wondering if tonight could entail this so-called-date he promised. 

“I’ll come pick you up at 7, is that enough time for you to get ready?” 

“Plenty. I’ll see you then?” You try to hide how excited you are, playing it as cool as you can. 

“Yes ma’am.” He affirms, walking away with a little more pep in his step than before. 

The rest of your shift at the garden is mindless. Your head is elsewhere– busied by daydreams of what tonight could hold. 

~~~

You take your time getting ready for your date with Rick. You took a long shower, scrubbing all the remaining dirt out from under your nails- of course you had a garden shift the same day as your date. 

Date, huh? You talk to yourself in your head. 

Your closet didn’t have much to choose from, it being mostly filled with practical things- a few pairs of jeans, a warm jacket for the winter, and a small variety of plain-colored shirts. 

As you file through your options you find just what you were looking for– a dress one of the Alexandrian women had given you to wear to the first dinner party at Deanna’s. Your group had arrived with only what was on your backs, you’d certainly not made room nor time for dresses before arriving at Alexandria. You still think about how kind she was to give it to you. Even now, it was still the only half-decent thing you owned. 

You put the dress on, admiring yourself in the mirror for a moment as you fix your hair. Seldom did you tend to your appearance these days, you’d forgotten how pretty you can be when you try a little bit. 

A knock at the door pulls you out of your thoughts and your stomach drops. 

Why am I so nervous?

You take a deep breath before stumbling your way down the stairs to the front door, unlocking it to reveal a sweet, smiling, clean-shaven Rick Grimes. 

His hands are clasped tight in front of his belt, holding a mix of wildflowers (and weeds) messily plucked together into a makeshift-bouquet. 

“Riiiiiick,” you draw his name out all sing-songy. The image of him walking around searching for these, squatting down and picking each bloom one by one has you just about melting. 

“These are for you, sweetheart,” he hands them to you, intentionally brushing his fingers over yours during the exchange. You blush, hard. He looks so handsome, it’s rare that you see him like this– a crisp off-white button up and a clean pair of black slacks, his usual boots, curls neatly laying on his neck. 

“Why thank you, sir,” you say, making an attempt at some first-date-formalities with him. Rick’s pants tighten when you call him that, but he decides to save that thought for later. 

“Anything for a pretty girl like you,” he says, stealing a kiss to your cheek, “You look beautiful by the way, this dress is quite nice.” His fingers play with the fabric around your shoulders. 

The two of you stand awkwardly in your kitchen for a moment until you finally break the silence.

“Sorry, I’ve uh- never done this before,” you admit.

“Done what?” he questions. 

“This- a date,” you say sheepishly. 

Rick is beside himself. He could understand not going on any dates in the last year or two, given the apocalyptic circumstances. But, before? He finds it hard to believe that no one has ever taken a girl like you out on a date. 

You can see the gears turning in his head, you interrupt his thinking. 

“–And no, I’m not a virgin. I just– no one from before ever really wanted me for more than just bedroom stuff, I guess,” you trail off, trying to figure out how to explain this to him in a way that didn’t feel totally humiliating. 

Suddenly, he feels all the more grateful for choosing to take his time with you the way he wanted to. He now has the opportunity to show you– for the first time– what it’s like to be treated right. Although Rick knows the point of tonight was to give him a chance to do some much-needed-grovelling with you, the added pressure of this being your first date makes him wonder if what he’d planned would be good enough. He pushes that thought aside as he takes your hands in his. 

“That’s a damn shame, honey. Those boys don’t know what they’re missin’,” he pulls you into his chest, embracing you for a moment, feigning some necessary confidence, “Let a real man show you how it’s done tonight, will you?” 

Your stomach twists into knots. You glance up at him with the most endearing expression on your face, and he can’t help but imagine what other looks of pleasure he might pull from you tonight. 

“C’mon, let’s head out. We’re not goin’ far,” he says, tugging your hand and leading you out the door. 

The two of you walk hand-in-hand toward the large tree that hangs over the lake; you spot a small backpack perched up against the tree trunk. 

“What have you got in there?” You giggle, poking him in the side.

He smiles, clearly pleased with himself that he’s fostered some giddy, girl-ish anticipation from you. He begins to unpack the bag, unfolding a tightly rolled blanket to lay flat on the ground. He pats the corner, gesturing for you to take a seat while he finishes setting up. 

He pulls out a lantern and a book of matches, a tupperware full of some food, a slightly dusty bottle of wine, and a deck of cards. You pull a puppy-dog-pout, eyes almost bleary as you look his way. The way you leap to hug him nearly knocks him over, but he quickly steadies the both of you. 

“Easy, darlin’,” he coos, stroking your hair gently. 

“Rick, this is- this is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me,” you say wholeheartedly. It was the truth. 

“I know it’s not much, but I’m workin’ with what I’ve got,” he admits, “even asked Carol to make us somethin’ homemade to eat. Didn’t wanna have you eatin’ canned beans on your first date,” he says with a hearty laugh. 

You beam at him, his every word making you swoon. 

The two of you enjoyed friendly banter while you ate, the warm glow of the lantern and the faint hint of moonlight cast over the water made for a rather intimate atmosphere.  

Brief touches are exchanged throughout the picnic-ish meal. He’d brush your hair out of your face, or place a hand on your lower back for a moment longer than usual. Though any soft or sweet version of you that existed vanished during your game of Gin Rummy. This was a re-match, and you were determined to go 2-0. 

He let you win this time, but he’d never tell you that. 

After you’d finished eating food and playing cards, he quietly moved up to sit against the tree, opening his legs for you to nestle there. You scoot closer to him– dress riding up a little bit in the process– and press your back to his chest. Being in this position with him reminds you of that night in the barn with Judith, how he’d kissed your head when he thought you were sleeping. 

Only this time you were fully awake; you tilt your neck back to rest your head on his shoulder, leaning to the side to sneak a kiss to his clothed bicep. You don’t see it, but he smiles.

The warmth of the day now long-gone, the two of you opt to pack up and make the short walk back to your house. You walk slowly, wishing the night wouldn’t end just yet. 

“I had a really, really nice time tonight, Rick,” you say sweetly, twiddling your fingers. 

“Me too, baby,” he replies. 

Baby, you think, that’s new. 

“Is this the part where you kiss me goodnight?” You say, always wanting more of him, but vowing to respect his timeline with you. 

He shakes his head no, lips brushing your ear as he speaks, “this is the part where I get what I’ve been waitin’ for,” his grip on your waist tightens as he yanks your hips to meet his. 

“God, finally,” you say, your voice breathy and needy. 

His lips find yours in a desperate kiss, you devour each other– hands everywhere. He grabs the back of your neck, threading his fingers into the base of your hair and tugging lightly. You moan, an embarrassingly loud noise for such a small gesture. 

He takes note of your reactions to every little thing, determined to learn what makes you tick the most. 

One of his large hands splays wide over the side of your face, the other roaming down to tug at the fabric of your dress. 

“As pretty as you look, I’ve been dyin’ to find out what you’re hidin’ underneath this dress,” he teases under the hemline, fingers barely grazing the curve of your ass. 

You tug at the collar of his shirt, then trail your hands slowly down his clothed chest, resting your hands on his belt, “I could say the same to you, Mr. Grimes.” 

He wonders if you know what you do to him when you talk like that. Thankfully, he doesn’t have to hold back anymore. 

“Careful, callin’ me that,” he says, tugging harder at the fabric around your waist. You love how he communicates with you, telling you exactly what he likes. 

“Or what? What are you gonna do to me, Mr. Grimes,” You tease. 

“Alright, that’s enough,” he says, hiking you up with one arm. 

You instinctively wrap your legs tightly around his waist, “smart girl,” he whispers in your ear as he carries you to your bedroom. The words bounce around in your head making you feel dizzy already.

You hold on to him, fingers tugging on his hair as you steal a few kisses (and bites) on his neck while he takes you up the stairs. 

He doesn’t throw you like you thought he might, rather he places you down gently onto your made-bed. He slowly gets down in front of you– the soft thud of each knee hitting the floor causing your skin to erupt in goosebumps– and looks up at you with a reverence you hadn’t quite seen in him before. He pushes your dress up, allowing his hands to roam over the bare plush of your thighs. 

He starts leaving kisses all over your exposed skin. 

“I know it’s not your first time,” kiss, “but it's your first time with me,” kiss, “and that matters to me,” kiss, “I’m gonna show you how this is really done,” kiss, “show you how sorry I am,” kiss, “if you’ll let me,” kiss. 

“Yes, Rick, please,” you don’t even know what you’re asking for, you just want him. 

His hands trail underneath your dress now, grazing over your stomach. 

“May I?” He asks, tugging on the dress. 

“Take it off, please take it off” you beg. 

“Good manners, baby,” he says as he pulls the flowy fabric over your head, “m’so proud of you.” 

You slightly resent the way his words made you instantly wetter than you were to begin with. 

While you had been getting ready for your date with Rick, you knew there’d be a chance that tonight was the night that he finally gave in. You thought it might be funny to wear the same cheeky pair of white, frilly panties you’d teased him with during your Spencer-scheme. You’d been waiting for this moment, wondering if he’d notice. 

And he did. 

“Aren’t you clever,” he says, nudging his nose into your hip bone, breathing you in, “did’ya pick these out just for me this time?” 

You nod, feeling shy all of a sudden. 

“Words, darlin’,” he pinches your waist earning a small yelp from you– he smirks at your reaction. 

Oh, this is going to be fun. 

“Picked these out just for you tonight,” you say, desperate for him to give you more, “thought you might like seein’ me wear ‘em.”

“I think I’d like ‘em even better on the floor,” he says, toying with the elastic at your waist. 

You whimper at his actions, his words, your fingers playing with a few of his misplaced curls. 

“You tell me if I do somethin’ you don’t like,” he breaks for a moment, looking at you for confirmation. 

There was a certain little word that got a reaction out of him earlier, you wanted to test it out again. 

“Yes sir, I will,” you look down at him wearing a knowing smirk. He looks beautiful like this– on his knees between your legs. You regret not having him here sooner. 

He grunts at your words, fingers digging into your skin now. His head tilts to the side ever-so-slightly, inching closer to where you want him most. You feel his breath hot on your core. He spreads you further, pushing your legs apart to give him more access. 

“God, you’re perfect,” he says, biting up your inner thighs, nose almost nudging your clit multiple times. Fucking tease. 

“Rick,” you whisper, your patience wavering.

“You want it?” He asks.

You nod.

“Not good enough. Say it, I need to hear you say it,” he says, voice low. 

“I want it,” you moan, “I want it, Rick, please,” you beg. 

He tightens his grip on your knee, “Mmm, no, sorry. Maybe I wasn’t clear,” he says, “tell me you want me.” 

He presses wet, sloppy kisses to your inner thigh, “or do I have you all wrong?” He drags out his words.

You tug at his hair, trying to pull him closer to your clothed sex, “Yes, fuck, I want you, Rick,” you run your thumb against his cheek, he shamelessly nuzzles his head into your hand.

You continue, thinking maybe he really does need some reassurance. 

“I think about you more than I care to admit,” you say, looking him in the eyes, getting close to his ear, you whisper, “when I’m alone at night,” you lean forward to kiss his neck, “even when I was mad at you,” you bite at his collarbone, “still thought about you, Rick.” 

Rick hums at your affection; he wastes no time getting eye level with your pussy, nudging his nose against your clit through the thin material of those fucking panties. 

“Jesus,” Rick says tauntingly, taking in a deep breath between your legs, “you smell good,” a little creepy, but you loved it. 

“Rick, you’re killing me,” you whine.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry sweetheart,” he says, kissing your bud through the cotton fabric. You’re not sure you’ll ever get used to the pet names with him, each one making your cheeks blush and your stomach turn. 

You start to fiddle with the buttons of his shirt, needing him to take off something. He takes the hint, finishing the job for you– ridding himself of his button up and the plain white t-shirt underneath. You tug at his belt now, silently asking him to do away with his slacks as well. 

He obliges - like always - unbuckling his belt, then undoing his pants and letting them fall to his feet. 

The metal clatter of his belt against the hardwood floor made your core flutter in anticipation. You’re not sure how much longer you can wait, but you do your best to be patient for him– to let him have his way with you. 

Part of you knows that’s what you really want from him. After months of Rick being so wishy-washy with you, you don’t care to lead the way with him– at least not right now. You want him to show you exactly how he wants you. So, you’ll let him do just that (and that’s not to say you won’t give him some encouragement along the way). 

You lean back on your elbows, taking him in in all his glory, and finally, you aren’t feeling so shy with him anymore. 

“This is weird,” you say plainly. 

“Like I said babydoll, we can stop anyti-” he starts; you cut him off.

“No, this,” you gesture to his nearly naked frame on top of you. “You know, I never get to just stare at you,” you say, your hair fanned out on the pillow beneath your head. 

“What d’ya mean, honey?”

“I always have to steal a glance, or act like I wasn’t looking… I never get to just look at you,” you admit. You trace your fingers up and down his toned abdomen, he tenses, muscles flexing under your touch. You gently graze each and every scar that decorates his skin, you even lean forward and leave a sweet kiss to the rather large one on his left shoulder (from where Morgan stabbed him.) 

“I always notice,” he says, looking down at you with a smirk.

“Well, you look good, Rick, what’s a girl to do?” you say, coaxing him with the compliment. He seems to feel the same way as you, his eyes raking up and down your body, caressing every inch of your soft skin with the palms of his hands. 

“You do too,” he says your name, “you’re beautiful, fuck,” he mutters. 

You inhale deeply, letting out a shaky breath, “please just fuck me, Rick–  want you to have me,” you look him straight in the eyes as you say this. As though he’d been waiting for a go-ahead from you, he doesn’t waste another second, immediately latching his lips to your neck and squeezing the flesh on your hips with both hands. 

He kisses his way down your abdomen, leaving small love bites every now and then. Your skin erupts in goosebumps after a particularly hard bite, you inhale sharply. 

“Oh, you liked that,” Rick says, biting you again– this time on your hip. 

You let out pretty, needy little sounds at his actions. 

Before you can speak again, he finally nudges his nose into your folds, grazing over your clit. 

“Fuck, Rick–” you yank his hair (a little harder than you meant to), “shit- sorry,” you dotingly smooth over the spot where you’d tugged. 

“Y’can pull harder than that, honey” and as though to reward you for your action, he darts his tongue out of his mouth, finally getting a taste of you.

I’m so fucked- Rick thinks to himself, feeling immediately addicted to you (as if he wasn’t already). 

He moans into your pussy, the vibrations adding to the pleasure he’s giving you. He leans his whole body into it as he relentlessly eats you out

“What a treat,” he says, lapping the wetness from your core, drinking you in, “you’re soaked,” alternating between your entrance and your clit in a way that keeps you right on the edge. 

“Rick, this feels so good, p-please don’t stop,” you tug on his hair again, knowing now how much he enjoys it. 

He adds two fingers into the mix now, stretching you out in a way that gets you close instantly. His fingers were much larger than yours, and it had been quite a while since you’d had anything but your own hands to pleasure yourself. 

If you were having to adjust to his fingers, you start to feel a little nervous about being able to handle all of him– you’ll cross that bridge when you get there. 

Rick feels you begin to squirm under his touch, so he uses his spare arm to hold your hips down. 

“I-I’m gonna-” your words get caught in your throat as your eyes squeeze shut. 

“I know baby, I know,” he maintains perfect pace with his fingers, giving soft-tongued attention to your clit at the same time, “let me have it.” 

And with that, you reach your high (a little quicker than you would have liked), but he’s had you so worked up all day– it's not your fault. 

He slows his movements as you ride out your orgasm, you rut your hips into his face, gasping moans of his name. 

You catch your breath before speaking, voice quiet and sweet.

“You’re good at that, Rick,” you run your fingers through his hair, nails scratching at the base of his neck. You pull him up toward your face, bringing him in for a kiss. Although he shaved that morning, he already has a 5 o’clock shadow– the new stubble scratching your face (you love it). You taste yourself on his lips and can’t help but swoon a little bit at the way he just ate you like you were his last meal. 

“I’d have you everyday if it were up to me. You’re a pretty little thing, you know that?” He kisses your cheeks, your forehead, your nose. 

Something you find yourself really enjoying about Rick is how much the two of you have been talking during sex. Having an open dialogue like this makes things feel so intimate. Hearing exactly how much he enjoys you, your lips, your hands, it’s giving you a sense of confidence you didn’t know you could have in the bedroom. 

He loved it all the same, each moan, whimper, or whine from you felt like a special reward just for him. More than that, he loved to hear from you– how you were feeling, how much you enjoyed his touch, how long you’ve wanted this. Each admission bolstered his self-assuredness with you, making him determined to please you even more with his next move. 

Your limbs feel like jelly, but you were nowhere near done with him yet. You muster up some much-needed strength before sitting up and tying your hair back. Rick’s eyebrows raise.

“You, here.” You say, patting a spot between the pillows at the top of the mattress. He listens, eager to find out what you’ve got in mind. He sits comfortably with his back up against the headboard, hands lazily laced behind his head as he lets out a content sigh. 

“It’s my turn to show you,” you plant a quick kiss on his lips, “just how bad,” a bite to his neck, “I’ve been wanting this, Rick,” you lick a stripe along his collarbone. His breath stutters. 

“You’re so handsome,” you kiss down his toned abdomen, raking your nails over his chest, “I don’t know why the women here didn’t pounce on you when they had the chance, I would have if I were them.”

“You think this doesn’t count as pouncin’ on me?” He teases with a smile on his face, clearly relishing in your words. You suppose he’s right; this earns him a barely-noticeable eye roll from you. 

“I really do think about you when I’m alone, you know?” You say, as though it’s obvious as you palm his erection through his boxers. 

“What do you think about, hmm?”

“It’s kinda embarrassing, Rick, I don’t know-” 

“What is it baby? Wanna let me in that pretty head of yours?” he strokes your cheek with his thumb, his voice is quiet and reassuring, “I’ve been so proud of you tonight, you’ve been so sweet for me, so open with me, even after everything I put you through,” he says, trying to coax you back to confidence. He loved seeing you be so shameless with him, and he’s greedy– he wants to see that side of you again. 

“I think about this,” you tug at the waist band of his boxers, silently asking him to lift his hips for you. He keenly accommodates you, tossing the plaid fabric onto your nightstand. 

And if feeling him through his jeans the other day had told you anything, it’s that you were right. He was thick. Your eyes go cartoon-wide at the sight resulting in a cocky laugh from Rick– you supposed he’d earned it, just look at him. 

In the moment you felt you needed it the most, your confidence found you again. The feeling quickly turned into smugness at the thought of getting to have Rick like this whenever you want. 

You take him in your hand, your fingers barely wrapping all the way around his length. You thumb over his slit, already leaking with a sticky bead of white liquid. He says your name softly in a mix of moans and heavy breaths. 

You decide that he’s waited long enough, you kiss his tip– your touch light and sweet. You lick up and down the length a couple of times to wet his shaft before fully taking him into your mouth. He’s so thick you hardly have the room to hollow your cheeks out, he’s stuffing your mouth full and you certainly aren’t complaining. 

You stick your ass up in the air, arching your back at a delicious angle as you continue your efforts on him. 

“You look so pretty,” he says, cradling your face in his hand, guiding your mouth up and down his length, “‘m kickin’ myself for not havin’ you like this sooner,” he breathes out the words slowly, holding eye contact so intense you almost want to shrink under his gaze. 

With the world how it is now, you know he means it (as lewd as the context of his admission may have been). Time isn’t promised, you think that maybe both of you regret playing all those games with each other. What’s the point in beating around the bush with someone when tomorrow isn’t guaranteed? 

All of a sudden, Rick pulls you off– a thin strand of saliva still connecting your lips to his cock. It’s a miracle he doesn't finish at the sight of you like this. 

“What’s wrong? W-was I not doing a good job?” You ask, slumping your shoulders in defeat and wiping your mouth with the back of your hand as you talk. 

Rick feels like he’s receiving his first ounce of good karma since this all started. With everything going on, here, out there, everywhere, all you’re worried about at this moment is pleasing him. The fact that you seem to be as lost in the moment with him as he was with you made his heart swell. The thought then makes him sick, feeling as though he doesn’t deserve you after everything he put you through these last few months, ignoring you like that. He shakes the thought away, telling himself this was his chance to make it up to you. 

“Oh– my sweet girl, no. You were perfect,” he hoists you up to straddle him now, that sorry look still on your face, “so perfect, I got close there for a second,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “can’t leave my girl hangin’, can I? Gotta give you what you really want.” 

My girl.

You crack a small smile now, adjusting yourself in his lap so that your wet folds slide over his length. Rick's hands find purchase on your waist, gripping you tight before swiftly picking you up to swap places with him. The strength and speed with which it happens makes you dizzy (in a good way). 

The head of his cock teases at your entrance and you whine, even though he’s hardly given you an inch. 

“You ready, sweetheart? This what you need?” He asks, doting as ever. 

“Yes,” you say softly, barely-there. 

With that, he starts to push into you, slowly, little by little. Your face scrunches up at the stretch, squeezing your eyes shut and digging your nails into his back. 

Finally, when you feel as though you’ve adjusted, you let out a small exhale, opening your eyes to find he’s already looking at you with blown out pupils, jaw slack, eyelids hanging low with pleasure. 

“I was worried for a second there that I wouldn’t be able to take all of you,” you whisper, a needy grin on your face. 

He starts to pet your hair now, almost sympathetically, “oh baby doll,” he presses a kiss to your temple, “I’m only about halfway in,” he smirks, cocky again. He acts sorry, but he most certainly isn’t. 

You close your eyes again, taking a deep breath, trying to relax your muscles. 

“O-okay, I’ve got this,” you say, trying to convince yourself more than anything, “keep going, Rick, I can take you,” you assure him. 

“I know you can,” he says as he pushes the rest of his length in with one leisurely thrust. You yelp, the sting quickly turning into bliss as he continues to say dirty things in your ear, “you’re a smart girl right? I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” 

Your eyes roll back in your head as he begins to move at an even pace now, each slow drag of his cock against your tight walls works you up closer and closer to where you want to be again. Your bodies begin to mold together as though you’d done this a hundred times. This feels wildly unlike anyone else you’d been with before; with each thrust, you start to feel more and more like you were made for him. Unbeknownst to you, the same thought crosses his mind. 

“Turn around,” he says, more demanding than he’d been thus far. You loved it. In an attempt to encourage him to lean into that a little more, you instantly obey, swiftly turning your body over– your stomach now flat on the mattress. 

He splays both hands over your ass cheeks, giving each one a gentle slap and a quick squeeze, grunting low in his throat as he does so, as though he was trying to hold himself back from man-handling you a little harder. His hands clench your hips now, pulling your bottom half toward his pelvis. Your back naturally arches as you bury your face into a pillow, patiently waiting for him to re-enter you. He leaves a trail of kisses up your spine as he lines himself up with your entrance again. 

He pushes in easily this time, you really have adjusted to him quickly.

“There you go, that’s my girl,” he coos, his hard, quickening pace contrasting his sugar-sweet words. You can’t even muster up a response, you just moan pathetic sounds of pleasure into the pillow. 

Keeping one hand on your hip to steady you as he continues to fuck you (hard, now), he threads the other into your hair, angling your head to the side so he can get a little look at you. 

Your eyebrows are upturned, your eyes half-closed, mouth dropped into a small ‘o’ shape as you pant out breathy moans and an attempt at a few words like, “yes, fuck, feels good, Rick, fuck, God, more, please.” 

This is exactly how he’d imagined you’d be– fucked out, needy, perfect for him. 

He feels you tighten ever-so-slightly around his length, your legs beginning to wobble, hardly able to hold yourself up. He intervenes, wrapping a strong arm around your waist, his chest flush with your back now as he maintains a steady pace. 

He’s deep in this position, the tip of his dick repeatedly rubbing up against your sweet spot. Your sweet sounds get a little louder now. 

You reach your hand back toward him, clenching around his flexed thigh. 

“R-Rick, I’m c-close again,” you say, words coming out in the same rhythm as his thrusts. He weirdly enjoyed that. 

“I know baby, I can feel you,” he says, his voice gentle yet commanding the room all the same, “let go honey, I’ve got you.”

The thought of him being this attuned to your body already makes you feel warm. More than anything, his words send you over the edge. You come harder than the first time now, clenching around his cock and gushing all over his length; you’ve made a mess of him. 

The mental fortitude Rick mustered to stave off his own orgasm in order to coax you through yours was an impressive and close-to-impossible feat. He was focused, determined to put your pleasure before his own (tonight, and always). 

When he was sure you’d finished, all the way, he pulled out, jerking himself with one hand and effortlessly flipping you over with the other. 

“Look at me,” he orders, “eyes open,” he starts to spurt his white hot load on your soft stomach, “wanna see your face, my pretty girl.” 

You reach forward to massage his balls as he finishes himself off, his eyes squeeze shut when he feels your soft fingers caress him down there. His mouth falls open to release a series of curses and moans, a few lewd utterances of your name spilling out as well. 

Catching your breath, the sounds of your combined panting echo in your now quiet bedroom. You stare into his eyes with that same lovesick look on your face from earlier. He peppers your face with kisses, his hands never fully resting as they trail gently along the smooth skin of your arms,  your legs, your hips. 

“Let me get you cleaned up, hmm?” he says, just above a whisper. 

“Mhmm,” you agree, eyes closed contently. 

Rick reaches over the side of your bed, searching for his discarded undershirt to use as a rag, (he would make sure to be the one doing that load of laundry). He leans over you now, gently wiping you off, leaving a few sloppy pecks over your skin along the way. 

You open your mouth to speak and promptly close it when you realize what you were about to say. 

Was I actually about to tell him I love him?

You suppose that can happen when you get fucked for the first time in a while, especially when you get fucked like that– all intimate and domestic. You know it’s not time to say that to him yet, but God did it feel natural. Mind slightly clearer now, you draw circles with your fingers on his bicep as you speak. 

“That was… that was really nice, Rick, like- really good,” you continue, “I needed that… with you,” you sort-of regret the vulnerable confession.

All cards on the table, I guess. You bargain with yourself internally. 

“I love to hear that baby,” he kisses into your hair, “I needed that too,” he’s whispering now, “thank you.”

“For what?” You whisper back. 

“For trustin’ me, givin’ me a chance to make this right with you,” he pulls your body impossibly closer to his, “I’ll keep on tryin’ for as long as you’ll have me.” 

His words register with you as a version of commitment, that this wouldn’t be a one time thing, that he wants more with you, more of you. 

“I’d have you forever if it were up to me, Grimes.” You don’t regret your vulnerability this time. 

A toothy grin spreads across his face. You secretly love when you can pull this from him– that innocent, boyish smile that makes it look like maybe, for just a moment, he’d forgotten that the world is falling apart outside. 

“Sounds like a good deal to me,” he breathes the words out as his arms settle comfortably around you now, both of you quickly fading. 

Without so much as a discussion, he stayed with you, holding you close to his chest all night. He couldn’t wait to get a look at you when you wake up tomorrow– a glimpse of how he might start his mornings everyday now. 

THANK YOU FOR READING <3

tag list: @officergrimesloml @rickgrimes-cupid @cr3aturef3ar @twd-bee3 @bees-library3 @thewalkingbred @rickgrimesismyboyfriend @tinytownn @loveregan @kyrasworldd @amethystfawn @pier-four @grimesprincesa

[kitty-grimes]

꩜ playing games ꩜

pairing: rick grimes x fem!reader

summary: the tension between you and rick was palpable- let it simmer too long, and things just might boil over.

content: age gap (rick is in his late 30's reader is in their early-mid 20's), angst, angst with a happy ending, a little bit of fluff (i can't help myself), hurt feelings, swearing, crying, miscommunication, admission of feelings, on the road, alexandria safe zone

warnings: 18+, angst, mild blood and gore, canon typical violence

word count: 7.4k

author’s note: yay i FINALLY finished my next one shot! this one is for my lovely mutual @twd-bee3 based off of this request. thank u so so much bee <3 also- i'm posting this at five in the morning, i'll fix my typos tomorrow :3

another authors note: if you guys like this i would consider doing a part two with some smut... 0_0 comment if interested

tag list: @officergrimesloml @rickgrimes-cupid @cr3aturef3ar @twd-bee3 @bees-library3 @thewalkingbred @rickgrimesismyboyfriend @tinytownn @loveregan

comment or send me an ask to be added to the tag list :3

s5e10 during the storm in the barn, pre-alexandria

The worst part was over, all of your bodies nearly falling limp after holding the barn door closed against the walkers and the storm. Rick and Daryl kept watch while encouraging everyone else to try and get some rest as the weather eased up. Some made their way into a corner, others up against a wall.

The wind and rain persisted and Judith’s cries continued. You rock her back and forth, you make sweet shushing noises in her ear, you even try to hum a soft song for her. Rick sat upright against one of the walls of the barn, knees bent and legs spread wide. 

“C’mere,” Rick whispered as he gestured with his arms open toward you; you scoot closer to him with sleepy, half-shut eyes as you start to hand Judith over. 

Rick shakes his head no before he speaks just loud enough to hear, “both of you, c’mere,” one arm still open wide, his other hand patting his chest.

Desperate to succumb to your exhaustion, you shrug, why not, thinking maybe the physical presence of someone on watch would calm you down enough to get some real sleep. You nod, and move so your back is flush up against his chest, Judith still on yours. Rick wraps his arms around the both of you and lets out a deep, almost relieved-sounding exhale. Eventually, your breathing syncs with his and you lean your head back to rest on his shoulder. You slowly but surely doze off, breaths becoming quiet and even. When Rick was sure, really sure, that you were asleep, he pressed a long, gentle kiss to your temple and nuzzled his nose into your hair for just a moment, breathing you in. 

When his lips met your skin, the sudden scratch of his beard on the side of your face had roused you a bit, your face burning at the sensation. You feel his nose poke around in your hair, you feel the cool air hit your cheek where a faint sheen of saliva was left behind- where he’d just planted a kiss. You want to keep pretending you’re asleep; you’re dying to see what else he’ll do- but you can’t help yourself. A small smile creeps up, signaling to Rick that you’re in fact, not, asleep. 

A pink blush sears across his embarrassed, toothy-grinned face- a look that says: you caught me. 

Rick Grimes, embarrassed? Flustered?

“S’okay Rick,” you utter, barely audible, your eyes still closed, “I don’t mind,” you hug Judith a little tighter, she’s quiet now, and as if to reassure him, you lean further into Rick’s touch; he can feel chest tighten a little bit at the tenderness of the moment. 

With your permission now, he shamelessly moves his strong hands up and down your arms, squeezing out some tension every now and then. Thanks to his redundant, patterned ministrations, you really do fall asleep this time. 

Rick continued doting on you while you slept, never closing his eyes- he was still on watch, just paying a little extra attention to you with his hands in an innocent, comforting way. He wanted to do what he could to help you sleep, it was one of his (many) priorities right now. He was relishing in the moment, that was until he looked in Daryl’s direction to find the man’s eyes already on him. Daryl wore an unapproving, knowing gaze and raised his eyebrows at Rick- to which Rick shook his head insinuating, ‘it’s not like that.’ Daryl laughed to himself. 

Sasha woke and quietly offered to watch the inside of the barn while Rick and Daryl did a brief perimeter check outdoors now that the rain had calmed down. Doing his best not to wake you, Rick slowly got up from behind you, fluffing up his jacket on the floor of the barn to lay you and Judith down on top of it. Once he was sure his girls hadn’t stirred, he exited the barn with Daryl in tow. 

My girls? Rick thought to himself. Get it together. 

The moment they were out of earshot from the barn, Daryl spoke. 

“What’re you doin’ Rick,” he mutters, in his plain sort of Daryl-ish way. 

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” Rick says with a guilty smirk on his face, a mess of leaves and twigs crunching beneath his boots as they walk. The faint groaning sound of a few walkers trapped beneath a fallen tree distracted him for a moment. 

“Rick quit messin’ around with her like that,” Daryl says, more seriously this time. 

“I’m not messin’ around,” Rick tries to think of a way to change the subject, quickly. 

Before he can, Daryl steps in front of him and puts a finger to his chest.

“Does she know that?” Daryl accuses, literally poking Rick.

“Know what, Daryl,” Rick sighs. 

“She know you’re not messin’ around? Have you told her that?” Daryl pushes back. 

“I mean, yeah- well, no. No I haven’t. But, we can’t anyway, she’s too young,” Rick stated, maybe trying to convince himself of his own words as well.

“She’s clearly not too young for you to be kissin’ on her, touchin’ her like that, you know what that shit does to a woman,” Daryl retorts. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Rick trails off, “I’ll leave her alone.” 

“That’s not what I’m sayin’ Rick, n’ you know it,” Daryl doesn’t push any harder than that; he’s not trying to play cupid, he’s keeping Rick in check- making sure you weren’t going to get hurt. 

After that conversation with Daryl, Rick told himself that moving forward, he wouldn’t cross that line with you again. Somewhere within him, he thought maybe you’d be better off with someone your own age, someone who doesn’t have kids, that sort of thing. However, somewhere even deeper than that, Rick truly thought you deserved better- someone who hasn’t done the things he’s done, the things he’s had to do. He promised himself at that moment that he would do everything in his power to try and get over you. 

*brief time skip to a few months later; you and the rest of the group have now settled in at Alexandria*

Rick, Daryl, Glenn, Aaron, and yourself are in an unfortunate predicament on a run. You’d just finished grabbing everything from the list that you could find in a town nearby. Glenn’s backpack was stuffed to the brim with medicine, bandages, and formula- Aaron had hit an absolute jackpot in a church donation closet. Heading back toward home, the group of you walked in the center of the road, a tall tree line on either side of you. The only damper on your collective success being the absolutely agonizing tension between you and Rick. 

You thought your silent treatment toward Rick would be the worst part of this run. That was until a singular walker emerged from the woods, Rick instinctively, mindlessly pulled out his gun and shot it dead. The gunshot drew out a handful more, and before you knew it, there was a small herd forming from both sides of the road. 

Amidst the panic, Glenn dropped his backpack- you watched as it tumbled down into a creek bed behind the tree line, hoping the current isn’t strong enough to send the bag floating upstream. 

Focus.

You tore at walkers left and right, the blade of your machete flinging blood in all directions. Rick was right next to you- backs nearly pressed up against one another- using his axe to take them down one by one, you both doing your best to prevent becoming fully swarmed. Daryl had been forced to break formation, he made a short sprint across the road- now about 20 feet to your left, fighting off the walkers closer to Glenn and Aaron.

You must have been watching the three of them for too long- when you turn your head back to look in front of you, you’re immediately caught off guard by a walker opening its mouth just inches from your face. The sound of teeth gnashing clatters in your ear, drowning out the rest of the groaning and chaos around you. You don’t have the angle to swing your machete, so you do your best to strangle the walker with your bare hands, digging your fingers into its collarbones, prodding through the flesh. At the very least, you were hoping to create some distance between yourself and the reanimated rotting threat snapping its jaws in your face. 

Rick had just finished staving off the majority of the ones surrounding the two of you when he hears you struggling behind him, gasping for air as you finally let out a shout- 

“Daryl! Over here-” you cry out for help, you were in a bit of a desperate predicament, but not so desperate that you’d end your vow of silence toward Rick. Maybe you would die just to prove a point, stubborn all the way till the end, you thought to yourself.

A sharp squelch takes you out of your own thoughts as the walker attacking you suddenly falls limp, an arrow going straight through its head. A cold sting of blood sprays across your face, you wince. 

“Thank you,” you whisper-shout across the road in Daryl’s direction, not wanting to attract more walkers than you already have, he nods back at you. You don’t miss the way Rick lets out a sardonic laugh under his breath at the interaction between you and Daryl. You roll your eyes internally. 

The remaining walkers- still about 20 or so- barrelling their way down the road towards where you stood, trying to catch your breath. A silent exchange takes place, nodding heads toward Glenn, Aaron, and Daryl as though to say, one last push, let’s do this together.

Daryl quickly reloads his cross bow, killing another walker that was approaching you and Rick. Glenn bashes one’s head in with the crowbar he usually kept tucked into a belt loop; Aaron uses his knife, sinking it into the head of the first one that lunged toward him. You wipe your machete in the grass, not wanting it to get too gunked up before these final blows. 

Rick grunted, “I’ve got the rest,” he cocked his head to the side a bit before walking straight into the final wave of them by himself. Without hesitating, Rick starts laying them out, letting out loud, low, frustrated grunts with each slash of his axe. A warm feeling pools in your stomach for half a second before you snap back to reality, immediately feeling disgusted with yourself for letting your mind wander at such a time, over Rick Grimes nonetheless. 

“Rick!” Daryl grunted, loud enough for him to hear, “c’mon,” he gestures to you, “get in there,” nudging you and following your lead.

You run to where Rick is in the middle of the road, immediately slicing your way through three walkers that were rapidly approaching him from behind. Side by side, you and Rick hurl your weapons through the skulls of one, two, three, four, five… you lose count after a couple of minutes, each swing of your machete blurring into the next. It was almost over, but you were quickly losing stamina; with Daryl’s help taking out the last few walkers in the distance with his bow, the group of you had finished off the small herd, taking only minimal damage to yourselves. 

You grab the bottom hem of your shirt and stretch it up toward your forehead, using it to wipe off some of the sweat and blood that was threatening to drip past your brow. Rick’s eyes selfishly trail along your midriff while your face is still hidden behind the shirt, he couldn’t risk you noticing the way just a sliver of your skin had his resolve instantly cracking. He shakes away the thought as though he just remembered why he was so put out with you right now. 

“I had it on my own,” he spits the words toward you, scoffing at Daryl too. 

Daryl tuts back, raising his hands in a mock surrender, “Sure, Rick,” before huffing and walking away. He trailed close behind Glenn and Aaron who were already making their way down to the creek to try and recover Glenn’s bag. Most of the essentials that were needed back at Alexandria were in that bag- leaving you and Rick alone together, both panting in the road. 

“The hell was that?” Rick spouts. 

“What was what, Rick?”

“You know what-” he starts, you cut him off

“You’re just jealous,” scorn lacing your tone. 

“Jealou- Jealous?” Rick blinks a few times, “this ain’t about feelin’s, this is about livin’ and dyin’,” his hands lace behind his head as he paces back and forth in front of you. 

“Right, which is why I called for Daryl,” you say with the same bite, your words hanging in the air- the silence becoming suffocating. 

“Are you shittin’ me right now?” He talks through his teeth at you, crowding your space when he says this, his nose scrunching up the way it does when he starts to get really pissed off. He cocks his head to the side momentarily, as though readjusting his brain to get his thoughts straight before opening his mouth again.

“I’m risking my life trying to protect you- and you’re playing games with me like some little school girl- in a time like this?” he says your name, visibly aggravated. 

This time, his words sting. Maybe that is how he saw you- some pathetic little thing with a stupid crush. You hang your head a bit, slowly losing your edge against him. 

“M’not playing games with you Grimes,” you attempt to hold your ground- your tone much weaker than your words. 

Your backpedaling wasn’t working on him, not right now. 

“D’you think I can’t protect you?” Rick said, a harshness in every word.

“It’s not that, Rick, you know it’s not-” you say, lowering your voice to match his tone. 

“What is it then?” He asks, a moment passes before he pushes again, repeating himself, “what?” His southern drawl makes it sound more like whuttt. 

“I-I can’t do this right now,” you huff, frustrated that you’ve been put on the spot like this. Like some sort of prey, you start frantically looking around for a way out of this conversation with him, now. How does he manage to make you feel so trapped when you’re out in a wide open space like this. You piss yourself off, that you’re allowing him to have this kind of effect on you.

You’re supposed to be ignoring him, giving him a taste of his own medicine after all his cold-shoulder bullshit with you these last few months. Ever since that night in the barn, he's been just, off, with you. What used to feel warm and easy with him now felt confusing. His distance had wounded you. Yet, here you were, giving Rick exactly what he wants- a reaction. 

You turn on your heel and start off in the direction Daryl, Glenn, and Aaron had gone toward the creek- your boots knocking across the pavement. To your dismay, you hear a louder, more determined thud approaching you from behind. 

“I don’t care if you’re mad, m’not lettin’ you go off on your own,” he says, leaving no room for debate. You say nothing- not even turning your head in his direction; you don’t protest either, reluctantly allowing Rick to follow close behind. 

The two of you trudge through the woods without a word, the silence filled by an occasional snap of a twig or crunch of some leaves. You open your mouth a few times- debating speaking- but nothing comes out. You were defenseless. What you’d done was really stupid, even if it did give you your intended result- Rick, pissed off and put out. 

You’re lost in thought when you hear voices nearby- like a magnet, Rick’s hand moves to graze the small of your back before dragging around your waist, fingers hugging your skin. His large hand now splayed on your stomach, he gently pushes you behind him so he can take the lead. He gestures a “shhh” with his finger, his veined forearm grazing your collarbone as he holds firm against you, halting your steps entirely. You felt your heartbeat in your ears at the sudden potential threat (and maybe a little bit because of the physical contact, whatever).

Listening carefully, you both slowly approach the voices, quickly identifying Glenn’s softer tone as he speaks. You both let out a short exhale, relieved as you emerge from the tree line to join your group at the creek. 

You made the mistake of not announcing yourselves- Daryl whips his head around, causing Glenn to instinctively raise his gun toward you and Rick, always ready for danger. In unison, you and Rick raise your hands in the air, you don’t miss the way Daryl rolls his eyes at how in-sync you two are (or how close to one another the two of you were standing), even when you were mad at each other. 

Finally, Rick speaks- not to you, but to the group.

 “Let's head back. It’s gettin’ dark, don’t wanna be travellin' at night,” he strains his neck back with his hands hooked into his belt, looking up at the sky. You were quickly losing daylight. Thankfully, Glenn secured his backpack; you nod in unison with the rest of the group and follow Rick for the miles-long trek back to Alexandria. 

You and Rick walk side by side most of the way home, never exchanging so much as a glance toward one another. As you enter the gates, exhausted from having to make the trip home on foot, you immediately dart away from Rick and the rest, all but making a run for it back to your house. Normally, Rick walks you to your front steps- ensuring you make it all the way home, safe. Tonight, he watches from afar, lurking from where he stood by the entrance talking with Gabriel. He watched until you entered your front door, wondering how long you plan on torturing him.

~~~

About a week goes by, and thankfully there is no news in the Rick department. For the most part, he was staying out of your way and giving you space. You’re sure he’d caught every one of your eye rolls during council meetings, and you’re almost positive that he’d noticed all your shifts moving around to avoid working with him at all, but he still hadn’t gone out of his way to bother you about it. 

~~~

You wake up squinty eyed and grumpy; the sunrise shone bright and unforgiving through your bedroom window. Funny, even now when tomorrow is never guaranteed, you still see the sunrise as unforgiving rather than a gift, or a symbol of a new day. You valued sleep more than almost anything. Old habits die hard, you suppose. 

Thankfully, you’d schmoozed your way into laundry day with Maggie and Tara, insisting that they needed the extra help. What you’d really needed was some alone time with your girls to talk about what happened last week with Rick. 

After eating a quick breakfast, you get dressed and jog over to a grass patch by the lake to begin setting up the clothes lines for drying. You were happy to be the first to arrive, allowing the quiet morning breeze to soothe your ever-racing thoughts. 

Maggie and Tara arrive shortly thereafter, hampers in-hand. Making small talk, the three of you begin to pin up garments one by one, things mostly belonging to other folks in the community. 

You finally get to a small stack of your own clothes, clipping up a few of your shirts, tank tops, and your favorite pair of jeans to the clothesline. At the bottom of your pile were a few small, miscellaneous items- socks, underwear, a bandana-  you pick up a pair of your panties and reach up for a clothes pin when you hear Maggie and Tara behind you talking to a certain blue eyed constable. 

Rick took a greedy look at you as your shirt rode up and exposed your midriff as you reached to hang up your clothes. And he certainly didn’t miss the fact that it was a cute pair of your panties that you were tending to. This is the closest he’s been to you in over a week now. He definitely wasn’t thinking straight. Get it together, he thought to himself. 

“Rick?” Maggie waves her hand back-and-forth in front of his face. He hadn’t heard a word she was saying. 

“Yeah,” he breathes out, “sorry, what were you sayin’?” he asks. 

“Just wondering if you’d add women's shoes to the list for the next few runs? Size 7 or so…mine have a huge hole in the sole, I keep gettin’ cuts and havin’ to go see Denise. You know I don’t like askin’ for stuff, but I feel like I’m wastin’ medical supplies here,” she rambles. 

“Maggie, you can ask for anything you’d like, you know that,” Rick says in that you-can-count-on-me sort of way he has about him. She smiles and thanks him. They continue to talk, you continue your work. 

Rick turns his eyes to you now, testing the waters by giving you a small wave. You refuse to even meet his gaze, turning your back to him and opting to fold some of the already-dry clothes instead. Maggie and Tara’s eyes flit between you and Rick, instantly sensing hostility (from you, mainly). 

Rick nods, accepting defeat, “well, I’ll be seein’ you ladies this evening," Rick says with a smile as the thud of his boots slowly soften in the distance. 

Maggie turns to you, “what was that?” she says, jabbing your side in a sisterly manner. 

“Nothin’, I’m just pissed at him,” you say, plainly. Tara listens intently while folding. 

“Is this still about Jessie?” Maggie asks. 

“Oh my god this is not about Jessie,” you groan dramatically. 

“Then, what is it with the two of you? I haven’t seen you with him in weeks,” Tara chimes in from the bench. 

“It’s about- well, everything,” you grunt, “even before we got to Alexandria. One minute he’s got his arms wrapped around me and Judith in the barn, kissing my forehead and all that crap. Next day, he hardly said a word to me. Then, a few days later he’s all sweet again- brushing my hair out of my face, tending to some cuts on my leg, hand all over my thigh. I mean, what’s a girl to think? Oh- and the day after that? He’s pairing me up with Gabriel of all people to keep watch. Since when do I keep watch? I go on runs- it's what I do. Barely heard from him the entire rest of that week.” 

You ramble on and on, listing each and every excruciating detail that led to you being this upset with Rick. 

“The back and forth- I can’t do it with him. I get my hopes up- everytime. I just feel like he gave me no choice but to start ignoring him,” you sigh, “and the craziest part? He thinks I’m the one playing games.” You emphasize that last part, looking to the girls for some validation. 

Maggie and Tara exchange a knowing look. You question them, “what?”

“Honestly, it kinda sounds like both of you are playing games,” Tara suggests. 

“No way are you guys going to defend him-” you say before Maggie cuts you off. 

“Not defending him. Just sayin’, two can play,” she says, raising her eyebrows at you. 

“Nothin’ like a little competition to get a man springing into action,” Tara adds, smirking. 

You realize there’s more mischief in the girls’ eyes than you’d originally thought. The three of you hatch a plan, albeit a little bit immature- but a plan nonetheless. 

~~~

After looking over the schedule, it worked in your favor that Spencer would be on gate-duty at the same time Rick was meant to take over for Sasha on the watch tower closest to the entrance, giving him a front row seat to your shenanigans. 

As the shift change approached, you preened yourself a bit- plaiting your hair into two neat braids and dusting some dirt off your knees that was still there from folding laundry earlier. Going along with the plan, you gather up some of what you knew to be Spencer’s clothes and place them neatly in a hamper, propping the basket up on your hip. You watched from afar, making sure Rick was settled on the watch tower before prancing over to the gate where Spencer stood with a gun slung lazily over his back. 

“Hi, Spencer,” you smile sweetly at him. 

“Hey, how’s today treating you, pretty?” he asks. He always flirted with you when he had the chance. 

“Not too bad, I was on laundry duty all day. I think I’ve got most of your stuff here,” you bat your eyes and gesture to the basket on your hip, “want me to leave it on your porch for you?” you suggest, waiting for him to notice.

Maggie and Tara suggested you accidentally mix in a cute pair of your underwear with Spencer’s laundry and deliver it to him yourself. The girls knew that anytime Spencer was near you, Rick watched like a hawk- he wasn't subtle about it either. No way would something this egregious go unnoticed by Rick. 

Spencer glances in the hamper as though he was double-checking everything was his when he sees the lacy, white, thin pair of underwear strewn carelessly on top of the neat pile. His cheeks flush and he nervously clears his throat.

“I, uh, think something of yours got mixed in,” he says, looking around- anywhere but towards you. 

Feigning innocence, you sheepishly cover your mouth, plucking the frilly undergarment from the basket and shoving it in the back pocket of your shorts. 

“Oh, my god Spencer, that is so embarrassing. I’m so sorry,” you say, looking down at your feet.

“N-no, not embarrassing at all. They’re cute- I mean, not that you asked,” he fumbles over his words. 

“You think so?” you take a small step closer to him.

“Uh- yeah. I mean- yes?” you almost start to feel bad for using him like this, but then you remember he drools when talking to pretty much any woman even remotely close to his age- you, Rosita, Sasha, Maggie. 

“Maybe I'll save ‘em just for you then,” you wink and start to turn around, first making sure to catch a glimpse of Rick who of course, was already staring at you. Mission accomplished. What was the mission again? You suppose it was a make-Rick-jealous-and-also-hope-he-says-sorry-for-his-bullshit mission.

You sway your hips a little extra as you walk back toward the houses, your lacy underwear still dangling out of your shorts pocket. Rick resents the way his jeans tighten at the sight. 

~~~

The following morning, you prep for your shift- exterior wall maintenance today. You’re normally on these shifts with Abraham, you perform a detailed check on each panel and beam for damage or signs of attempted entry, Abraham writes down the exact locations that need patching or reinforcement on a document that gets passed on to Rick. You’d already planned to ask Abraham to pass on the papers to Rick for you, as you weren’t exactly keen on seeing him today. 

However, when you arrive at the gates to meet Abraham, you’re met with the only face you had hoped to avoid- Rick Grimes, paper packet in hand. You roll your eyes, not caring if he notices. 

“Where is Abraham,” you ask, annoyed. 

“He actually got moved to watch duty this morning,” Rick holds eye contact with you as he tilts his head toward the nearest tower, Abraham (unaware of the conflict between you and Rick at the moment) gives you a squinty-eyed grin and waves from his position on the lookout. 

With a fake smile on your face for Abraham as you wave back, you speak through your teeth, “and who is in charge of scheduling that, Rick?” you accuse. 

“Hmm, must have been me,” he says, a knowing smirk on his face, “guess we’ve gotta work this out then. The walls won’t check themselves will they?” he says, back already turned to you as you both head toward the gate, Eugene opening it up as you approach.

Rick knew you were avoiding him, but he also knew you’d never skip a shift. Was he trapping you? A little bit. Did that fact bother him? Not much. 

You close your eyes and take a long, deep breath in an attempt to center yourself- adjusting the gun slung over your back before taking your first steps outside the walls for the day. 

With Rick close behind, you walk slowly, eyes flitting up, down, left, and right. Each foot drags along, inch by inch, as you begin your thorough perimeter check.

“Right here,” you mutter, pointing to a barely noticeable warp in the welding of a support beam. Rick nods and writes it down. You continue, going counterclockwise around your walled community.

About 5 panels later, you notice a bullet hole that must have been looked-over during the last check. 

“Here,” you point to the hole, looking at Rick to make sure he heard you. He meets your gaze and nods again, jotting down a description of the damage. 

The next 20 minutes or so are quiet, almost calm- you don’t find any more damage to report so you just focus, double checking over places you’d already looked at, anything to avoid the inevitable just a little bit longer.  

“We need to talk.” Rick halts his steps, hands on his hips. 

“What is there to talk about?” You ask, almost genuinely. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” he says your name with a bit of an edge, “maybe your little stunt with Spencer yesterday? We could talk about that,” he stalks toward you, “we could talk about you not showing up to the meeting last week, hidin’ out in the watch tower all night during my curfew rounds,” his presence now overwhelming you, “or maybe we should talk about you riskin’ your life out there- callin’ for Daryl instead of me, me- standing less than 12 inches away from you, just so you could prove some kind of point?” His nose scrunched up the way it does when he gets upset, “where would you like to start, hmm?”

“What do you want me to say? Really, Rick,” you say, eyebrows upturned in desperation. You were cornered and you knew it. You fumble with the hem of your shirt- a nervous habit- as you try to think up some sort of quip to retort with. 

Rick takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment before speaking, “I just want you to tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it,” he says, less malice in his biting words this time. The look on his face softened as he said this, brows unfurling, some of the tender lines around his eyes uncreasing ever so slightly. 

You meet his gaze, shocked at his response- his honesty. For the first time in weeks, you felt like Rick meant what he said to you. 

“Just, please- I can’t play this game,” he points back and forth between the two of you, “it's messin’ with my routine, messin’ with my head.” He admits. 

Your ears may as well have perked up at that final admission- so it was messing with this head, thank god. You think to yourself, feeling mildly satisfied. Walkers begin to groan nearby, snapping you out of your own head, you and Rick both scan your surroundings to find two of them approaching in the distance. In perfect sync (as the two of you often were, despite your efforts against it), you both fire your guns at nearly the exact same time, the walkers dropping limp to the ground instantly. 

You sigh, “can we not do this out here?”, referencing that your conversation was unceremoniously cut short by the undead. 

“You gonna run away from me when we get back in there?” Rick says, teasing, but earnest at the same time. 

“No, I won’t- I’ll uh, can I meet you at your house? Maybe after I eat dinner, if that’s alright?” you say hesitantly. Your resolve deteriorates by the second. 

“Okay,” he says, looking around almost awkwardly, “okay,” he repeats, “after dinner”. 

To be honest, he wasn’t expecting you to agree without at least a little bit of a fight. Regardless, he nods and shuffles around the papers in his hand. 

“Why don’t we finish up out here?” he says kindly, making an attempt at some normalcy with you.

The two of you finish up your inspection of Alexandria’s walls, even cracking a few weak jokes along the way. Rick feels hopeful, considering you hadn’t so much as looked in his direction in weeks. Perimeter check takes up a better part of the morning and afternoon, as each of you are particularly thorough individuals. 

Standing at the gate, waiting for Eugene to roll it open for you both, you feel Rick’s hand slide along your lower back for a brief, barely-there moment as he leads you back inside the walls. He’s testing the waters- that’s for sure- but you can’t help the way your breath falters ever-so-slightly at his touch. 

“I’ll be seein’ you,” Rick says with a wink. A wink? Laying it on a bit thick for a guy that hasn’t even been forgiven yet, you think to yourself, biting back a blushy grin. 

“Yeah, see you later,” you say as nonchalantly as possible before heading home to get cleaned up and have a bite to eat. 

~~~

As you clear the rest of what’s in your bowl (some kind of vegetable stew that Carol and the other pantry ladies made) you can’t help but start ruminating on all the possible outcomes from your impending conversation with Rick.  

Listen, you’re a pretty girl, but I just don’t feel that way about you.

You’ve got a crush, I get it. It’s sweet, really. But I don’t think it's right to keep leadin’ you on like this. 

Whatever’s goin’ on between us, whatever you think this is, it's gotta stop. 

You’re just too young.  

It’s like you can hear Rick rejecting you in your head 100 different ways- you try your best to ignore your own thoughts as you start to get ready. You wanted to wear something decent, but not so nice that it looked like you were trying too hard. You’re just going over there to talk, iron things out, and leave- nothing more. Your hair was still damp from your shower as you got dressed, leaving small wet blotches on the fabric of your top- a plain, black, fitted long sleeve shirt and your favorite pair of jeans that had just made it through the laundry yesterday, and your everyday shoes. Just as you intended, nothing special. 

In your mind, you’d already made a decision before even talking to Rick- you were done with the games, done beating around the bush with him, done borderline torturing him, just… done.

With that, you decide to head over to his house right on time rather than being late on purpose just to get under his skin (though there’s a part of you that still wants to see him squirm a little bit). But, as aforementioned, you decided you wouldn’t do that anymore. 

The warm evening breeze kisses your skin as your shoes scrape along the pavement. The walk to Rick’s wasn’t far at all, but the trepidation almost drowned you as you approached his front porch steps. Rick is pacing back and forth, occasionally scratching the back of his head. You watch him through his living room window, opting to stare and observe him for just a moment. It’s strangely comforting to you to see that he might be dreading this as much as you are. 

You take a deep breath, and knock. 

He opens the door with a quickness that makes you wonder if he had been waiting there for you. 

You smile and give an awkward wave.

“Hi, Rick,” you say without a trace of a bite in your tone. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” he says, voice all deep and gentle. Man, it had been a while since he called you that. You instantly melt. He closes the door behind you. Maybe he wasn’t so mad after all. 

“Where are the kiddos?” you ask, attempting to break the ice with a casual question. 

“Carl’s with Enid, and I’ve got Judith with Maggie and Glenn for the evening,” he nods his head toward the living room, you follow. Rick sits down on the couch, letting out one of those disgruntled, exhausted-sounding dad noises. You sit as far on the opposite side as you can, leaning your back up against the arm on the couch and scrunching your knees up to your chest. You wanted to disappear right now. 

“Are you feelin’ nervous?” he asks, though it was a rather obvious declaration to you. Before you can answer, he starts again, “I am,” he admits. 

“Oh,” is all you can manage to say, “what for?” 

“I- uh. Listen, I know this is overdue. I know that I should have talked to you sooner, I was… being immature, I know that.” Rick is sincere, “I don’t want this to- I think that we-” he pauses, looking at you like he was silently begging to interrupt him. You don’t, you want to hear him first. 

He starts again, raking a nervous hand through his hair, tousling the curls, “I feel like I shouldn’t feel the way I feel about you. Makes me feel like I’m takin’ somethin’ from you…” your eyes go wide at his admission, cheeks feeling instantly warm. He feels something for you? 

Rick continues, “when you smile extra sweet just for me, the way you stay close to me when we’re outside the walls, you care for my children askin’ for nothin’ in return,” you listen intently to his words, nervously pulling the sleeves of your shirt down over your fingers and fiddling with the seams, “guess I just started thinkin’- if I couldn’t have you the way I want, I shouldn’t have you at all.” He finishes with his head hanging low as he stares between his feet on the floor. 

“Rick, I-” he interrupts you. 

“It’s okay, darlin’,” he says, visibly anticipating your rejection. “I tried, you know?”

“Tried what?” you ask, softly.

“Tried gettin’ over you,” he runs his hands through his hair again, “I know now that it made you upset, the Jessie thing. I wasn’t doing that to hurt you, not on purpose,” he says, “I thought that maybe if I could make myself fall for someone else, I wouldn’t have to feel so bad about fallin’ for you anymore. Maybe you would,” he corrects himself, “this would… just go away.”

“I tried too, you know.” your words sting, “with Spencer.”

“That was on purpose,” he retorts. 

“Was not-” 

“Yes it was,” he cuts you off. “I know you did that to get under my skin. It’s not the same and you know it.” His voice stern. No more beating around the bush, Rick thought to himself. 

“Fine. I did it to make you jealous.” you admit, “you happy?”

“Yes, thank you,” he says, turning his body to face you now, almost like an animal deciding they felt less threatened. He’d bare his vitals toward you, trusting you won’t turn him back into your prey right then and there. 

He continues, guard down, “like I was sayin’, I tried, and I’m still here. You’re still in my head, driving me up a wall all the damn time.” 

“How do you know how I feel?” You say, genuinely shocked, “do you know how I feel?”

Rick shrugs. 

“Have you asked me?” You push back, your tenacity making a brief appearance in the conversation, causing Rick to crack a small smirk. Funny, maybe your bratty, stubborn nature has become a comfort to him. 

“‘Suppose not-” he says, lifting his head to look you directly in the eyes. 

You meet his gaze, raising your eyebrows in anticipation- insinuating that you’re waiting for him to speak next. 

“How do you feel,” he asks, pausing only for a moment before finishing his thought, “about me?”

“Is it not obvious?” You ask sincerely. Here you were, assuming he was privy to the way you’d been fawning over him from the moment you met. 

“Guess not, or I just-” he darts his tongue out, wetting his lips, “-just didn’t think you were bein’ serious,” he confesses. 

Here goes nothing, all cards on the table. 

“You don’t notice the way I stiffen up when you touch me? When you put your hand on my back or fix my hair, you don’t see what you do to me?” you begin to let your guard down too, “I love being close to you Rick,” your eyes well up now, “that night in the barn, with Judith, we- I guess I thought…” you trail off, “I just feel safe when I’m with you. But, you constantly do this push and pull thing with me, one day you’re all over me and the next you can’t even look at me. Imagine how that makes me feel? But I get it, we were out there, I told myself that being together would have only been a distraction. Then we show up here, where there’s walls, and I think, ‘God, maybe Rick and I could have a chance now that we can finally breathe for a second,’ and the moment we arrive, you start flirting with Jessie, in front of me, Rick,” wet, hot tears stream down your cheeks now. 

“Sweetheart,” Rick moves closer to you on the couch now, his large, calloused hand instinctively reaching for your back to soothe you, “I’m s-”

“Dont, Rick,” you all but flinch away from him, “not unless you mean it,” you plead. 

He keeps his hand there, his confident touch unwavering. 

“Honey, I’m sorry. I should have said that to you a long time ago.” He trails his hand up and down your spine, you try hard to resist the way your muscles soften under his gentle ministrations. 

“I didn't mean to be so hot and cold with you, I want you to know that. It was like every time I thought I'd kicked it, I found myself wanting to be close to you again. I told myself I was doing what was best for you by staying out of your way. I thought you’d be better off with someone younger, someone different, someone better.” His voice cracks slightly at that final admission. 

A few moments pass, and you decide it's time to give in. If he breaks your heart, it’ll be your own fault this time. 

“Who could be better for me than you, Rick?” you place a wary hand on his knee.

“Anyone,” he says, but you know he doesn’t mean it. 

“No one,” you correct him, now rubbing circles on his denim-clad knee with your thumb. “I don’t want anyone else, I want you.”

“No more games,” he demands playfully, a hint of sincerity and desperation there. 

“No more games,” you assure him. 

"Give me a chance to make this right?" Rick asks, his breath fanning over your cheeks.

You’re not sure when this happened, but your faces were mere inches from one another now. It was as though you’d been leaning into his every word. His hand slowly moves up your spine, fingers carding through the hair on the back of your neck. You place a hand softly on his chest, tugging ever-so-slightly at the collar on his jacket. 

Time slows, you nod in response to his question as both his hands cradle your cheeks. Your noses bump, and finally, he closes the gap, pressing a firm, sweet kiss to your lips. 

You let out a stuttered sigh, lips still grazing his as you catch your breath. 

“This okay?” Rick whispers, mouth against your cheek. 

“Just shut up and kiss me, old man,” you tease, he wipes away your leftover tears with his thumb.  

Rick takes your words in stride this time, enswathing strong arms around your waist to pull you closer before kissing you longer, harder, and much, much sloppier this time. 

He finally gave in, all the way. And with how precious this moment is, he wasn’t planning on letting you go any time soon.

THANK YOU FOR READING <3

click here to read part two :)

[cultofdixon]

Little one had other plans

Rick Grimes • She/Her Pronouns • Timing is never perfect when it comes to babies coming into the world. Rick just wished the group wasn’t…homeless when his baby decided to make an entrance • ANGST/SFW • TW: Pregnancy & Birth / Anxiety / Unbearable pain

A/N: Really bare with me and TWD timeline

Requested by: Anon

“Rick?” Her voice brought the retired sheriff out of his slumber as he carefully sits up from their shared bed.

“Yes darling?” Rick smiles moving aside for Y/N to sit with him as she instantly locked their arms bringing her head to rest on his shoulder. “Are you feeling alright? Missed yea this morning”

“Uhm. I know we just…hitched and we didn’t talk about certain things especially given it’s the apocalypse and Lori but…”

“Y/N. Please just say it”

“I’m pregnant”

Rick’s silence only brewed the fear and anxiety within Y/N as she was about to pull away when he shifted so that he could pull her entire person into his embrace.

“Are you upset?” Y/N frowns holding onto her husband as he started to rub soothing circles on her back feeling her relax. “Rick—-“

“We’re just…so in love with each other that we couldn’t contain it all.” Rick whispers feeling her tighten around him as he did the same. “So we made another person out of that love” he held her as she sobbed in his embrace.

“We’re happy about this?”

“More than happy darling. We’re safe here. I can’t wait for this chapter with you” Rick smiles bringing his lips to her temple keeping her close as the two wouldn’t separate for a while longer.

~

But the luxury of the prison never lasted…

When Rick reunited with Daryl on the road, after dealing with the claimers…the archer brought it up. Brought up the thought that Y/N could be dead and being met with Rick’s silence was his answer meaning he didn’t want to even think about it.

“We’ll find’em.” Daryl states watching Rick turn to him slowly with a low expression before looking away. “She’s a fighter. May be the size of a planet currently but you know she ain’t leavin’ this earth without fighting to get back to you”

“Did yea just call my wife a planet?”

“Am I wrong?”

“Just shut up and let’s follow the train tracks once Michonne and Carl got some rest”

We will find them

And they do. Thankfully not in the mess of Terminus and Rick was extra thankful after hearing a few things about the cannibals that quickly met their end in the chapel later on.

The Grimes boys will forever be thankful to Tyreese with saving Judith and for both him and Carol finding Y/N moments after the two had found each other. Rick handed his daughter to his son quickly but gentle for Carl to get a good hold of her before he ran over to his partner bringing her in his embrace.

“Thank god you’re alive” Y/N sobbed out as she held onto Rick the best she could given the space they didn’t have. Rick pulled away from the embrace to kiss her firmly on the lips before bringing his gaze to her belly and placing his hands on it. “That’s also a bonus…”

“What? The baby kicking?” Rick asks while his gaze still focused on her bump.

“Yeah…Baby hasn’t kicked since the prison fell. Guess it missed its daddy” She breathed out a laugh listening to his follow in suit. He pressed his forehead against hers still staying in this moment as no one dared to interrupt.

The cannibals

The hospital

Beth…

Tyreese…

So many things could’ve been avoided and now the remaining group found themselves struggling with the fact that this could be the end if they don’t find anything. By anything the essentials for survival. Daryl did his best to hunt what he could find but nothing was turning up. The creek within the forest didn’t carry enough water like they hoped when they first planned to check. But Rosita boiled what they could draw up and insisted it be given to Y/N which the peanut gallery didn’t protest.

“Rick we need to prepare for the worse cause scenario” Carol pulled him aside as the group continued its tiresome walk to nowhere.

“What do you mean?”

“She could go into labor. She is that pregnant where it could just happen without any of us prepared. We need to at least somewhat be”

“Or what?”

Carol didn’t say another word and only gave her friend a stressful look littered with fear of losing Y/N to this pregnancy like they did with Lori’s. They wouldn’t know what to do if Y/N needed a c-section or if she lost a lot of blood. Anything could happen and it didn’t take words for Rick to know he could lose the love of his life.

________

Y/N laid tiredly on the makeshift bed in their shared cell as she hasn’t been able to keep anything down for a few weeks. Typical morning sickness but Hershel had his worry about dehydration, not like Carl hasn’t been hovering making sure his stepmom had water. Rick asked him to keep an eye on her and his baby sister when he tended the garden but he didn’t need to be asked to do such. The two grew close when Lori passed and if she would do anything for Carl, he’d do anything for her.

“If your dad is making you hover. You don’t have to” Y/N said almost exhausted as she sat up in the bed when Carl was once peaking from the curtain now fully entering the cell with another canteen.

“Dad didn’t tell me anything. I’m allowed to check on you if I want to”

“I should be checking on you. You don’t have to worry about me” She states patting the empty space beside her while moving the blankets to cover her legs. “I’m okay”

“I know…b-but I want to…I don’t want to miss anything”

Y/N gave him a confused look gently making Carl look at her as he tried to cover his face with his hat. But then Y/N took his hat off lifting his chin to find his tears.

“Carl…love, what’s wrong?”

“I-I…” Carl choked up a bit feeling Y/N carefully wipe away his tears whenever they spilled from his waterline. “I don’t want to lose you too. I didn’t see…a-anything before and I just—-“

“Carl. We couldn’t have predicted what happened to your mom to have happen and I’m always so deeply sorry you lost her.” Y/N gently held his face feeling him ease into her touch letting her wipe away his tears. “We don’t know what’s going to happen, but I will promise you. I’m going to be okay”

“But you can’t…you can’t promise something like that”

“I’m going to anyway. I’m going to take good care of myself and this baby, knowing damn well my boys are going to help me. I’m not going anywhere love…I’m going to be okay”

________

Something didn’t feel right.

Y/N had tried not to think much of the growing pain in her stomach as she thought it was the lack of food in her system or the mild dehydration she was reaching.

Then when the mysterious water appeared and the debate of drinking such was washed away in the little sense of the rain pouring down on them. Her distressed expression matched those who’ve lost since the fall of the prison hence no one second guessed the feelings. Until Carl took note of it.

“Are you okay?”

“Just a little uncomfortable. Keep her covered or she’ll get a cold” Y/N fixed the coat she was once wearing to cover Judith better as Carl took his hat off to cover her head.

“Are you really sure that’s all mo—-Y/N?”

“Yes, I’m—-“ She stopped herself reaching for Rick grabbing his bicep harshly to indicate how much pain she was in as he quickly addressed the matter bringing her close. “R-Rick I think. I think the baby is coming”

“Well that couldn’t have been poorly timed” Eugene commented only for Abraham to smack him upside the head. “You have any better idea where the pregnant woman should have her baby? In the middle of the road with the rain pouring down on us and unable to see the walkers when nightfall approaches”

“Someone shut his mouth” Rick snapped watching Glenn push Eugene out of the Grimes’ line of sight as Abraham and Rosita blocked his view.

“Nah we got somewhere. Saw a barn on my way back to y’all after searching for water” Daryl states before leading the way as Rick didn’t hesitate to pick up his partner bridal style following the archer along with the others following shortly behind.

Once they got in the barn, everything had to happen again. Going in all different directions. Maggie and Carol took care of getting Y/N situated, prepared while Carl took care of watching Judith while the others swarmed respectfully on the other side of the half wall to give Y/N some privacy while she stripped from the waist down.

“Tell me how you’re feeling. Especially if there’s major changes” Carol stated watching Y/N nod trying to take deep breaths feeling Rick gently brush the hair out of the way of her face watching her look at him through anxious tears.

“Your baby will come perfect okay, okay? Nothing wrong will happen” Maggie’s choice of words confused those who weren’t there when they lost Lori, and especially how they lost her. No one questioned. All the focus was making sure that baby comes out okay while protecting everybody.

It felt like a cue. When the walkers came a banging on the barn doors resulting in almost every muscle they’ve got keeping them closed, Y/N was already in the motions of pushing this baby out only for a smooth sailing to reach a jammed complication.

“H-Hurts. Hurts so much!” Y/N shouted as the growling tuned it out except for Maggie and Carol’s ears as they both were checking what is happening. The baby’s shoulder is stuck and in a perfect world they’d have the tools or the operating room to go to that nuclear option of a c-section. Something they didn’t want to do.

“Y/N you have to stop pushing”

“O-O…I…” Y/N sobbed listening to Carol’s words as she gripped onto the blanket she laid on not finding the words to ask for her husband but the anxiety growing in the situation made Maggie shout.

“Rick we need yea!” That caused a few head turns as the pounding shifted the weaker few against the door.

“What’s wrong? What’s happening?” Rick instantly asks, taking Y/N’s hand into his feeling the bone crushing grip she was producing as he kept his ground a straight face for her.

“Baby is stuck”

“I have a plan but if it doesn’t go well, we could lose them both” Maggie frowns, remembering an old conversation back from the prison with her father about breached babies and if it ever happened to her then one would have to reach into her while another pushed down on her belly to help the baby progress.

“Take me through it. We’ve got this” Carol states turning to Y/N and her worried expression. “Scream. Scream it out. Everybody’s got our back and you will make it. You both will make it”

The growling grew louder along with the blood curdling screaming as Michonne brought Carl into her arms covering his ears while the two kept their ground against the door. He sobbed listening to his mom’s screaming and those from the beginning of the prison sanctuary were all feeling the old anxiety bubble up inside them.

But once it settled…the growling faded and the anxiety dissipated…the screaming stopped…

Rick pressed his lips to Y/N’s feeling the tears roll off his cheeks as he pulls away to look at their baby boy laying on her chest calming instantly to the soft touch his mother brought with the finger grazes.

“He’s perfect…”

“You did it, darling” Rick exhales a chuckle, kissing her forehead and bringing her close keeping his coat to cover their baby keeping him comfortable in her arms.

“We’re okay” Y/N felt the tears pour as she laughs the anxiety out bringing her gaze to her son when he brought himself to look at his brother. “We are okay, like I promised”

Carl felt the tears return in his eyes as Y/N tiredly reaches to wipe away his tears. Rick smiles at the gentle act admiring his little family as he made this declaration a long time ago…

But he’ll never let anything happen to his family.

[b1eedthefreak]

hi!!!! okay i'm not sure if this is up your alley, but i feel like i can never find rick x reader fics that have judith involved in some way?? like rick being infatuated with reader being so good with his daughter or maybe like rick daydreaming about them all being one big happy family?? whatever floats your boat if you're up to writing it tysm!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. Something Like Home

⌇rick grimes x reader

⌇summary: in alexandria, Rick finds himself falling deeper in love as he watches you care for Judith like she’s your own. With each peaceful day, he lets himself imagine a future, one where the three of you are a real family, and this new life finally feels like home

⌇warnings: fluff

⌇word count: 3.5k

a/n “SHE WROTE SOMETHING OTHER THAN DARYL!” the crowd cheered

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An early morning in Alexandria. The sun peeks through the trees, casting a warm, golden glow over the community as the day begins to stir. Rick is sitting on the front porch of your shared home, his boots resting on the wooden step, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he watches you and Judith play in the yard.

You’re kneeling down beside her, brushing a few strands of hair from her face as she giggles, her little hands reaching up to touch the flowers you’ve been showing her. The sight of you, so gentle and caring with his daughter, makes Rick’s heart swell in his chest. He watches you without even realizing it, lost in the simplicity of the moment. Judith looks up at you with pure admiration, and Rick can’t help but smile.

You’ve become everything to him.

He’s never felt so at peace in this chaotic world, never imagined that something so simple as watching you care for his daughter would make him feel so whole. There’s a certain tenderness to it all, your soft smile, the way you talk to Judith like she’s the most precious thing in the world, the way you move through the house with ease, making it feel like a home instead of just a shelter. It’s as if the walls of this place were built for moments like this: you, him, and Judith.

He watches as you help Judith stand, holding her tiny hand and guiding her through the garden. The two of you share a quiet conversation, one Rick can’t quite hear but he can imagine, the soft, loving tone of your voice and the way Judith responds with pure trust and adoration. The way you laugh together, a sound that’s music to Rick’s ears, makes him realize just how much he’s fallen for you, and just how much he wants this to be his reality forever.

His thoughts wander. He imagines this moment stretching on, the three of you sitting in the yard after dinner, watching the stars. Judith growing up, knowing the love of two parents who would give anything to keep her safe, to build something resembling normalcy in a world that’s anything but.

Rick can almost hear the sound of your laughter filling the house, the feel of your hand in his as you move through life together. Maybe one day, they’ll be able to take walks through the woods without fear, or play games in the yard, making up stories for Judith and watching her grow stronger every day. Maybe they’ll have more children, build their own little corner of the world where the horrors of the past can’t touch them.

But for now, it’s enough to watch you with Judith, knowing that this is something real, something worth fighting for.

“Daddy!” Judith’s voice snaps Rick from his daydream, and he looks over to see her running toward him, her little feet kicking up dust as she makes her way up the porch steps. You follow behind, a smile on your face as you catch Rick’s gaze, soft and warm.

“Look Daddy!” Judith’s excitement is contagious, and Rick can’t help but smile as she holds out a small flower in her hand. “I picked it just for you!”

Rick reaches for the flower, his fingers brushing against hers as he takes it. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he says, his voice low and full of warmth.

Judith beams at him, her eyes shining with pride, before she turns to you. “Momma! Did you see? I gave Daddy the best flower!”

You chuckle softly, bending down to give her a kiss on the top of her head. “You did sweet girl. It’s beautiful!”

Rick watches the exchange with a full heart, his thoughts slipping back into that place where he imagines the future. He’s here. He’s safe. He’s found peace in you both.

As you both sit down on the porch, with Judith nestled between you, Rick can’t help but feel the weight of all the things he’s lost. But in this moment, it feels like he’s found something worth holding on to. Something real. Something good.

Later that evening, after dinner, Rick finds himself standing outside, looking out over the fields, his hands tucked into his pockets. The sun is beginning to set, casting a soft orange glow over the land. He takes a deep breath, feeling the cool evening air fill his lungs. For the first time in a long while, he feels like he’s found a place to call home.

You join him on the porch, leaning against the railing beside him. “What are you thinking about?” you ask, your voice soft.

Rick doesn’t immediately respond. Instead, he looks out at the horizon, his mind racing with thoughts of the future. “I was just thinking about how lucky I am,” he says finally, his voice low and sincere. He turns to look at you, his gaze intense. “How lucky we are.”

You smile at him, your heart swelling at the sincerity in his words. “Yeah?” you reply, your voice teasing but full of warmth. “Lucky, huh?”

Rick chuckles, the sound deep and full of affection. “More than I deserve.”

You reach out to take his hand, your fingers intertwining with his as you squeeze it gently. “We’re lucky too,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “You’re a good father Rick. Judith is lucky to have you.”

He smiles, his thumb brushing against your hand as he holds it tighter. “And I’m lucky to have you.”

The two of you stand there for a moment, taking in the peace around you. The quiet hum of the world outside, the warmth of your bodies pressed close together, the feeling of home.

Rick turns to you then, his voice soft but earnest. “I think about it sometimes,” he admits, his eyes full of tenderness. “About the future. About us. Judith growing up… and maybe—maybe there’s more to this. More to us, to her.”

You look at him with soft eyes, a gentle smile on your lips. “I like the sound of that,” you say quietly, squeezing his hand. “I like the sound of a future with you.”

Rick smiles back at you, a look of pure adoration on his face. “Yeah,” he murmurs, “me too.”

As you both sit there, watching the sun dip below the horizon, you can’t help but feel that this, right here, is everything you’ve ever wanted. The family you’ve always dreamed of—one that’s filled with love, laughter, and hope.

Rick, you, and Judith. One big, happy family. Something like home.

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[itsgrimeytime]

When he clarifies things.... || Rick Grimes (TWD)

It had been a long day, one of your longest. It felt like you hadn't slept at all -nothing.

And maybe it was because you hadn't. You were on the move, then, the whole group ready for shelter and food and keeping watch of Judith, you were exhausted.

You were so busy though, you'd just. Forgotten.

Longer and longer it stretched until the group found Alexandria -clean homes and friendly faces (at least friendly than some others you'd known). Something in you felt at ease, watching as people flocked off -safely.

There was a bit of mistrust in the air, but everyone understood what a blessing it was to find a place like this -with beds, with food, with homes.

And yet, you stayed sat -holding Judith close to your chest, something in you rattling, unable to let her part. Like something could get her if you so much as moved. The Grimes household had quickly chosen a house, because well... everyone chose around him, the leader, the guide-

So, you sat on his front porch. Hadn't even picked your own home yet, something in yourself not quite happy with such an idea. You just couldn't.

"Hey," he grumbled out, slow and warm.

"Hey," you muttered, absent-mindedly rubbing at your eyes -tired.

"Ya got a second?" He asked, quietly, before darting to Judith at your chest, and something in him seemed to soften.

"Yeah," you echoed, something in your legs shook as you stood -his hand in yours to help guide you up, "-Yeah, I can talk."

"C'mon," he kept his hand in yours and led you into the house, you adjusted Judith, who was now fast asleep, onto your hip.

This wasn't anything new. Not really. But for it to be so blatant, so domestic... you felt something warm curl into your chest.

"You mind if I...?"

His hands were motioning to Judith, you almost hesitated, but he won you over, hands creeping onto your skin. He gathered her up and disappeared into the hallway for a moment -third door to the right, your mind remarked quietly.

Like you needed to know. And something within you truly felt like you needed to, especially after the prison and almost...

You found a seat on the couch, sinking into the cushions without hesitation -you hadn't felt such a pleasure in a long time. Your eyes almost shut from it, actually.

"Hey," he repeated, meeting your eyes and smiling, a sort of warm smile peering across his lips but concern burrowing into his eyebrows, "-ya tired?"

"You aren't?" you laughed out, pushing your fingers into your temples for a moment -he watched the movement languidly.

"I am," he whispered, chuckling "-just wanted to talk to ya first."

There was something serious in his tone, you stilled in the cushions -eyes shooting open, you pushing yourself into proper posture. Serious.

"Okay," you hummed, attentive, "-what's up, Rick? You're kinda freaking me out."

"No, I, uh," he paused, sitting down on the couch -distant enough to keep your space (something in you wanted him closer), "-you picked a place yet?"

"You mean a house?" you echoed, sort of out-of-it, distant, "-No. I... I haven't yet. Why? Everyone getting all the good ones already?"

Rick seemed to ignore your joke, guiding his eyes straight into yours -you stilled, further, "What if ya didn't? Choose a place, I mean."

"I..." you tilted your head, curiously, "-What?"

"What if-" he started, and he was scooted closer to you on the couch you realized -your hand almost instinctively went to him but you held it back, "-What if you stayed here?"

"Sure," you added, still a bit perplexed, "-as long as there is room with, you know, Carl and Judith-"

"No," he laughed for a moment, and something in you gleamed -pride, "-I mean. Here... with me."

"Rick, I don't-"

"Stay in the same room," he elaborated, "-wake me up f'er breakfast, I want... I want your face to be the first one I see in the mornin' and the last I see at night."

"Oh," you spoke, a little frozen in place, "-with you."

"There ya go," he remarked, scooting somehow closer -grabbing your hands together.

Almost instinctively, you answered, "Yeah, I'd... I'd like that."

He brought your connected hands to his lips, stubble prickling across your skin. It almost seemed to ground you to the moment.

And before you could so much as blink, he pulled you into his side -one quick tug, wrapping his arm around you and pushing into your skin -warm.

You, without hesitation, slunk your head against his shoulder, something about him being all around you -pressed into your side, your nose, your eyes- kept you barely awake. Eyes fluttering.

"Sleep, sweetheart," he hummed, using his other hand to intertwine with yours, "-I'll be 'ere when ya wake up, I promise."

You spoke, muffled, into his shirt, "You sure?"

"You did a great job already, darlin'," he whispered, turning to press a kiss to the top of your head, "-time for some rest."

And that would be the best rest of your life. Or maybe you wouldn't know quite yet, you had a lot to look forward to.

[itsgrimeytime]

When you love him... || Rick Grimes (TWD)

When he loves you (sequel)

rick grimes taglist: @golden-hoax @mgparker

It was a rough day. A really rough day, you had constant nightmares -screaming faces of your family, jaws thrashing and running. Running until the breaths in your lungs burned and sweat dripped down your brow, you were running-

You woke up with a scream on the tip of your tongue, on the edge of-

"Hey," he hummed, groggy but forceful, "-hey, darlin', wake up-"

You came to almost immediately, the pounding, the screaming, the blood- it all went silent, only a mere ache in the back of your head now. When your vision cleared, you saw Rick -leaning over you, hands on your arms, gently shaking you awake.

"Hey," he spoke softly, a gentle whisper, "-hey, There ya are."

"Did I-"

"Light sleeper," he whispered, his drawl low and growly, "-'Heard ya shufflin' around."

Your cells were pretty close, maybe two off from each other but you were still surprised that he heard you from there. Were you loud? Were you screaming? You didn't want to wake-

"I cut you off from a scream," he seemed to read into your silence, "-No one else is awake, 'promise."

"Okay," you spoke, shakily, and, with his hand, he guided you up, "-okay."

His hand stayed there, on the small of your back -rubbing up and down with the gentle push of your breaths. You felt safe then, with his hand there, with him-

You pushed away the thought.

"Do ya wanna talk 'bout it?" He echoed, accent strong from the buzz of sleep in his voice.

"Just-" you started, deflecting, "-Just the same things everyone deals with."

"Just 'cause everyone deals with it," he spoke, more authoritatively -like you'd seen around the prison, "-don't mean it ain't important."

"My family," you relented, something catching in your throat -you hadn't told anybody, "-I watched them... Right in front of me, I was... I was so helpless."

You weren't built for an apocalypse, you knew that the second it started. When you'd come across the farm, you'd never even held a gun nevertheless used one. They had to train you, keep you practicing and make you confident-

You were used to it now, a familiar weight in your hand. Even when you used something else, it was okay, you knew it -you were getting used to this life.

You didn't know whether to sob or celebrate.

"You ain't helpless now," he spoke, hand finding its place on your shoulder -grounding, "-and I know it hurts but you can't change it. You just gotta... keep on movin' for 'em."

"I didn't think I'd make it this far," you confessed wiping at your tears -looking anywhere but at him, "-can you believe that? I thought... After my parents, my family, I thought I would go out just like them. Scared and afraid-"

"You didn't," he consoled, turning your face to face his own -your skin tingled under his fingertips, "-You won't. You survived. You are survivin', they'd want you to survive."

"Yeah, I know," you hummed, brought back to earth, "-I know."

"Plus," he clarified, looking straight into your eyes, "-you ain't alone anymore, alright? So don't, don't think like 'at."

"Okay," you exhaled, your breath a little more stable -he'd brought you down. The heaviness in your shoulders lifted, and something in you shifted -looking at him.

"'Kay," he started, hand rubbing your shoulder one last time -it left an ache in its wake, "-get some sleep, 'be good for ya."

"You too," you whispered, watching as he left -something building up in your chest, a little twinkle. An overwhelming feeling of... of wanting him to stay.

He has a pregnant wife, your brain dinged as you laid back down to sleep -head heavy and eyes exhausted but the thought kept you up.

You didn't sleep a wink.