I Wouldn’t Stop For Red Lights

Gracie•she/her•24•if you know me in real life no you fuckin DON’T

[willlemonheadsupremacy]

Hey! I'm Gracie!

I’m always looking for new friends so please never hesitate to send in asks or message me! 

Multi-fandom blog! I post whatever I want and promise absolutely no consistency lmao.

I try to keep I relatively SFW here, but minors, pretty pretty pretty please block the tag ‘nsfw’ !! I don’t care if you’re here, but if I notice a minor interact w/any nsfw content I make or reblog, ya gonna get yourself blocked :(

[dollfacefantasy]

Dream Walking ♡

pairing: rick grimes x fem!reader

summary: you catch rick having a wet dream about you. you both try to move on from it, but with it stuck in each of your minds, it's near impossible to just go back to the way things were.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, fingering, dub-con, age gap (20s, late 30s), wet dreams, somnophilia

word count: 5.4k

a/n: edit 11/20/25: i recently found out this story was stolen by another user :( if you see it on wattpad, tiktok, or any other tumblr/ao3 account besides mine, i would appreciate if you reported it for plagiarism.

Since the prison fell, you’ve had time to think about what it is you miss most. The security of the fences was nice, so was the comfort of the thin mattresses. There were also the routines everyone had fallen into that filled your days with a sliver of how life felt before everything went wrong. However, the piece you missed most, the thing you craved on nights like these, was the privacy of your cell.

You took those months for granted at the time. The ability to retire to your own space once the sun set was long gone. Now you lie with the rest of the group on the floor of this barn, sleeping all together like a pack of wolves in a den.

It wasn’t that it was horrible. You felt safe with everyone so close. You also didn’t have to worry about anything going wrong in the night without your knowledge. It just wasn’t as pleasant as getting to be alone at the end of the day when both your mind and body are tired. How you craved the sound of the steel bars shutting and the feeling of the lumpy pillow against your head.

But all that lies underneath a pile of rubble now. There was no use wishing for another time you’d never get back.

You sigh and roll onto your side. The thunder and rain outside was keeping you up. Your eyes scan the dark room to try and find another open pair, any one of your friends who would be able to suffer along with you. You don’t find any, which is a good thing you suppose, but now you’re left to lay all alone in hopes of sleep calling your name sometime soon.

You were in the corner of the barn with your jacket tucked under your head. That’s the spot you’d taken up as soon as people were picking where to sleep. You liked having walls to your back. It was less space for something to hide or attack from. Some of your friends like Abraham and Daryl lie along the walls like you while others like Carl and Michonne rest near the center, wanting to be close to any potential threat.

Rick sleeps a foot or two from you. He’s on his back, one arm behind his head while the other is draped over his abdomen. You can hear the deep and even rhythm of his breath, and you know that he’s out cold at least for the time being.

After a little while he rolls onto his side like you had, and you think that you’ve found someone to share your struggles with. When you look over at him though, his eyes are still shut, his lips are still parted, and his body is still limp. 

Your lips purse with disappointment, but your eyes soften. He needed the rest. He’d been stretching himself to the limit ever since your group had barely made it out of Terminus alive. You understood why. The group needed somewhere stable to call home. You just wished he wouldn’t put that responsibility entirely on himself.

You always liked Rick. He’d taken you in a couple months after the outbreak when you were scared and alone, shaking and covered in blood on the side of the highway. You’d just seen the final members of your previous group fall victim to the dead. On the verge of giving up and letting a herd claim you too, you saw him dash by. He was looking for a missing little girl. Instead he’d found you.

Even on the farm when everyone was fighting over everything all the time, you admired him like you did now. It was almost weird to think of him now compared to back then. The clean-cut officer friendly you’d met a couple years ago now sported shaggy hair and a beard along with eyes always scanning for danger.

The crush you harbored for him was as strong as ever though. Not one thing about that had changed. Unlike his hair, you hadn't grown out of it in the slightest.

You continue watching him while the wind and rain team up to beat against the wooden slats of the barn walls. Interrupting your study of his features, he grunts. It’s quiet; so much so that you almost miss it amongst the other noise. It seems ordinary enough, but he does it again. And then again as he rolls further to his side so that he’s nearly on his stomach.

“Mmmm…” he sighs, “Fuck.”

Your eyes widen a little at that, but you smile, wondering what was frustrating him in the world of his dreams. His lips smack idly against one another for a moment before he speaks again.

“Just like that, baby. Atta girl,” he murmurs.

And now you’re really interested. 

Your hand flies to your mouth to stifle your reaction. You didn’t know whether to laugh or try to wake him. You knew that waking him up would be the right thing to do… but you didn’t want to just yet. He rolls his hips against the hard ground he’s sleeping on, which you know can’t feel that good. But he does it again. And he looks like a divine being as he does so, everything about him enrapturing you.

Another low groan seeps from his mouth, and a couple incoherent words follow. You bite your lip and look around again to make sure no one else is watching you. You couldn’t help wondering who he was dreaming of. Maybe Lori still crossed his mind every once in a while or possibly he harbored some secret desire for someone in the group. Perhaps it was just a plain old sex dream and he was envisioning some woman he liked before the world changed.

“Fuck…” he grunts again, “Such a good girl.”

Warmth simmers to life in your belly, and you find your thighs rubbing against one another. Those two words were a weak spot of yours, so of course he'd have to rasp them out like that. You'd be lying if you said you'd never imagined them falling from his lips but hearing it in reality was so much sweeter.

His arms shift around as he continues trying to find some relief against the dirt. By this point, a bulge has formed at the front of his pants, and the sight is enough to make your mouth water. You know this is wrong, perving on him like this, but you swear to yourself that you're gonna wake him up. Just a few more seconds. Though before you get the chance, he moans again.

Among some expletives and praise, your name floats into the night. The syllables leak out in a hushed manner, but they send a jolt through you regardless. Your eyes widen and the heat in your tummy creeps up through your neck into your cheeks.

"Just a little deeper, dolly," he slurs, "That's it."

This time you're unable to repress the laughter that bubbles in your chest. The sound is soft, but it's enough to rouse him.

His eyes flutter open, his pupils still laden with sleep. It takes him a few seconds to register all that's going on.

"What're you gigglin' about?" he grumbles as he sits up and rubs his face.

But as soon as he moves, he becomes conscious of what was so amusing to you. He feels it rock hard against his thigh and flashes of his dream run through his mind. You can see it on his face, the embarrassment over the fact that he'd been caught having a wet dream. Caught by the very person it starred.

"Sorry," you simper.

He tries to maintain his usual stern temperament, but you see his humility in the flush of his cheeks. He can't look you in the eyes right now. His mind struggles to grasp the words that would make this better.

"Grow up," he mumbles as he starts to roll the other direction, "You've never had one of those? How old are you?"

"Old enough for you to dream about apparently," you say with another little laugh as you go to lay down yourself.

"Shut up," he mutters before closing his eyes again.

A few days went by before either of you addressed it. That was Rick's doing since he pretty much avoided you as best he could after it happened. It made you a little sad, but it was understandable. You probably would've done the same if the roles were reversed.

The group had left the shack from that night in search of more food and water. The bunch of you stagger in factions as you walk along some train tracks through the woods. Maggie, Glenn, and Tara lead at the front while Michonne with Carl carrying Judith linger a little behind them. You're trekking along with Sasha and Rosita before letting yourself fall back so you can be besides Rick.

"Are you mad at me?" you ask.

He glances over at you. "No, I'm not mad at you," he states matter of factly. 

"It seems like you are."

"Why's that?" he asks.

"Cause you've been avoiding me," you say with a coy smile.

"I haven't been avoidin' you," he denies.

"Mhm," you respond, "C'mon, it's not that big of a deal. Things don't have to be weird now."

His eyes remain on you as if trying to analyze your intentions. "I didn't want to make you uncomfortable or anything," he says.

"The only thing making me uncomfortable is how awkward you are around me now," you say with a little feigned pout, "Seriously, I don't care. It was just a dream. People can't control dreams. It's not like I caught you jerkin’ off to a picture of me."

"Keep your voice down," he says, eyes flitting ahead to make sure no one had heard the topic of your conversation. He then sighs and runs a hand over his sweaty hair.

"C'mon, Rick," you say. You give his arm a little shove but do make a point to lower your volume. "I'm sorry for laughing at you."

"No you're not," he says and for the first time in days, he cracks a small smile.

Your face reflects his expression like a mirror. "Well... it was funny. But I still didn't mean to make you feel bad. It doesn't bother me or anything. I know dreams don't reflect real life," you reassure him.

He nods and remains quiet for a moment as the two of you continue down the tracks. You were slightly hoping he'd tell you his dream was based in reality. That he did want you while awake just as much as he did while he slept. But that was a wilder dream than the one that had caused all this. 

He finally speaks and looks over at you again. "I appreciate you keeping it to yourself and not making a thing out of it."

"Of course," you beam at him, "I'm a good girl, remember?"

He gives you an unamused stare in response before lightly shoving the back of your head, guiding you back towards the rest of the group. Despite his outward annoyance, you could see the fondness return to his eyes.

It only took you a few weeks to make Rick regret his leniency in regards to your jokes. You still hadn't told anyone directly about his dream which he was grateful for, but people would probably find out soon enough with all your teasing and hinting.

At first, it seemed like you truly wanted to move on from it; leave what you'd witnessed in the past and forever wonder if the dream spawned from a place of true desire or just his brain fucking with him. Things were stressful enough for everyone during that week, especially Rick. The group had nearly succumbed to dehydration one day and struggled to find shelter for the next few.

But then you all had been invited to Alexandria. You and the others had been welcomed with open arms into a slice of the old world. Everything seemed to settle down for the most part. Your people were still on edge, Rick was ready for conflict at any moment, but no longer were you constantly worried about if you'd be able to find food or water.

And with things simmering down, Rick was pretty sure you decided that it'd be ok for you to turn the heat up.

It was after a week or so of being there that the jokes started back up. You'd reference the "good girl" part of it the most, but occasionally you'd mix it up and go for a "just like this, right Rick?"

Each little remark, every time your smug smile rose on your lips, the way you pranced around the community as if you knew a dirty little secret; it all compounded, a new stone being thrown at the glass that housed Rick's resolve.

Tonight he can't sleep. Everyone else in your group is passed out, exhausted from a long day. But he's wide awake. He feels restless. He shifts around on the sofa and sighs, rubbing his eyes.

Since joining Alexandria, everyone had begun easing up about sleeping arrangements. The first week, you all piled into one house and slept around the living room as if it was one of the sheds you'd been bouncing between before. But after some time went by, people began to spread out.

Everyone had basically claimed a house as their own by now, some sharing their's with a few other group members. Rick kept the one everyone had started off in. Carl and Judith slept peacefully in bedrooms of their own upstairs while he took the couch. Even though this place seemed like a paradise, he couldn't bring himself to trust it yet. He couldn't sleep in the master bedroom that was tucked away in the back of the second floor. It was the farthest from the stairs and all the doors. He'd never forgive himself if something happened and he wasn't in the position to protect his children.

Though they weren't the only ones in the house with him now. Peering down the hallway in front of him, he could see you. Despite how much you loved acting tough and teasing, underneath you were still vulnerable, and Rick wasn't blind to how you looked to him for comfort. When you came to him in the evening and asked to stay as everyone was heading off to their own beds, he couldn't say no. You could make all the bratty jokes and innuendos in the world, and he still couldn't stomach the thought of you feeling unsafe.

You were still sleeping on the floor against the wall. As much as you had missed your bed from the prison, you found yourself not ready to transition back to a mattress again when the time came. Rick understood. It felt weird going from the hard ground where you could spring to action in seconds to a comfy bed that cradled your form and kept you drowsy and unaware. At least in your place in the hall, you slept on some chair cushions he offered you so your body wasn't bare against the hardwood.

He watches you, taking in your sleeping form amidst the quiet of the house. A thin blanket covered most of your body, but he could still admire other parts of you from a distance. He could see the precious way your fingers curled around the edge of the fuzzy material draped over you. Your face looked so soft and delicate in its completely relaxed state. Your cute, plush lips were parted ever so slightly.

As his eyes raked over you, he felt something stir within himself. Instead of hearing your gentle breathing, the sounds his mind had created as you moaning in his dream played through his head. He tries to shake them away and think of other things, but you are all his brain wants to think about. If it's not you moaning or writhing in pleasure beneath him, it's how you giggle after telling one of your stupid jokes. It's the way your eyes widen with amusement when he growls "keep it down."

And if it's not that, earlier memories flicker through his internal vision. He can still remember the day he met you like it was last week. You standing there, bloody and shaking. Your eyes wide and darting around. So different from the you he saw today.

He sits up and scratches his jaw, feeling the skin that was now smooth from his recent shave. He still couldn't tear his eyes away from you. You had rolled over now, taking some of the blanket with you. He could see slivers of your legs and the roundness of your ass peeking from below the border of the blanket. Sighing, he leans back into the couch and pinches the bridge of his nose.

He had it bad for you, and he knew it. He just didn't like thinking about that fact or being cognizant of how pathetic he could be for you. Like having a wet dream. He hadn't had one of those in well over a decade before this last time. It was ridiculous.

It wasn't so much that he thought you didn't reciprocate. You were all but a petulant schoolgirl pulling her crush's hair for attention. Rather it was just that you were quite a bit younger than him, and it made him feel like shit. He supposed it didn't matter, being the end of the world and all. Things weren't the same as they used to be. It was a miracle to find anyone you could feel this way about now. But that didn't stop guilt from tying his intestines into knots every time he imagined anything more with you.

You didn't ease that feeling by toying with him so much either. Day in and day out, you practically begged for more out loud every time he came around you. His mind swirls with all the instances of your temptation, and in this moment, he really starts to feel that his guilt is unnecessary. It would probably return in full force tomorrow, but for right now, while he thinks of all the things you put him through, he feels like he deserves a little something for his troubles.

He stands up, and finds himself walking towards the area you sleep at the end of the hall. Any other man left in this world would have staked their claim on you by now. A pretty girl flagrantly throwing herself at the object of her affection. His honor held him back, but it wasn't like this was something so serious, right? Didn't he deserve to let go once in a while?

He crouches down next to you. At first, he only stares, but soon enough his hand follows. It starts on your shoulder, rubbing in a small circle. His palm then slides up and down your side. He can feel your muscles molding to his touch. Your body recognizes your need for him even when unconscious.

He maneuvers himself closer to you, sliding behind you on the cushions so that his chest is against your back. His hand stays on your body, continuing its slow, rhythmic movements. He keeps it over your shirt at first before slipping it beneath, exploring the skin of your midriff.

You let out a little sigh and shift a bit in your sleep. You still don't wake up though. He nestles his face against the back of your neck, taking a breath of your scent. He imagines what would happen if you woke up right now. He's positive you'd be startled, but he'd bet his life you wouldn't push him away.

He'd only ever been this close to you one time before. It was a couple days after the prison fell. Like right now, it was also at night. It wasn't sensual like he was trying to make this moment though. That time you'd had a nightmare. You woke up in tears, shivering in the pitch black of the random house you were shacked up in with him and Carl. It hadn't taken any words. He knew what you needed. He held you close like right now until you'd returned to the safe embrace of sleep. Unlike his wet dream, the two of you had never spoken about that since.

Testing the waters, his fingers dip below the hem of your shorts. They glide over your hip bone, pressing a tender massage into the skin. You like that. He can tell from the way you lean into it. You roll onto your back to be closer to him.

He really goes for it now. His hand slides to the front of you to cup your sex over your panties. He positions his face in the crook of your neck and lays a few soft pecks on your throat. His digits then start to move slowly.

They caress your pussy over the soft fabric shielding it from his raw touch. But even with the thin barrier, he can tell you feel the sparks of pleasure. Your hips wiggle a little bit. Your mind can't discern what exactly the sensation is right now. All you know is that it's starting to disturb your slumber.

You whine, the tender noise garbled and half-hearted.

"Shh-shh, sweet girl," he coos in your ear.

Upon hearing his voice, he sees your eyelids twitch as if they want to open. His middle finger slots itself between your lips and strokes with more precision. He can feel slick starting to soak through the garment. You whimper again. There's still a chance this could go so wrong, but that's part of what has his blood pumping down South to his building erection.

Your thighs part, your subconscious desire shining through. He chuckles against your neck and swirls the pad of his finger over your little bud.

"There you go. Let me in, honey," he praises.

Him speaking again is what finally draws you back into the waking world. Your eyes crack open. You're confused by what's happening; the warmth to your left side, the tingling between your legs, the raspy voice in your ears.

The moment reality clicks in your head is visible to Rick. Your eyes widen, as much as they can while your lashes are still heavy with drowsiness. Your head turns to connect your gaze with him. As he expected, the situation was jarring to you but not in a way that was completely bad. His movements slow, but they don't come to a full stop.

"Rick, what are you-"

He cuts you off by leaning in and putting his lips on yours. It felt different than you'd imagined. You'd become so used to seeing him with a beard that your daydreams always had his kisses feeling scratchy. You didn't update your ideas when he'd shaven clean. There's no scratch at all now. Nothing but his lips on yours.

His heart pounds violently within his ribcage. He pulls back, ready for your final verdict. He feels your thighs squeezing around his wrist.

"What are you doing?" you ask, your voice soft and hazy like you had asked if you were still dreaming.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he responds, "I'm givin' you what you want." 

"Are you sure it's not what you want?" you ask.

Of course you'd still try to tease. Even when he so clearly had the upper hand.

"Oh I'm sure. You're not a mystery, sweetheart," he says quietly. He pauses for a moment but decides to to continue. "It took me having a wet dream for you to figure out you might have a chance, but I've known you've wanted me for a long time now just from how you look at me. Like you have little hearts in your eyes."

You bite your lip, both to suppress the moan bubbling in your esophagus and out of an embarrassment at how dead on he was. His finger works at you faster, sliding around in your arousal as he nips at your earlobe.

"You may as well have written 'fuck me' across your forehead, babydoll. Would've given me the same impression," he whispers.

You whine, and god, he can't get enough of how it feels to be the one teasing. For once, he's doling out the humiliation to you. You're the one with the shame boiling in your tummy and heat melting rational thought away in your brain. Your hips start to rock against his hand.

"Was this what your dream was about?" you whimper.

"No," he answers, smiling at your whiny tone, "That night you caught me I was dreaming about you sucking me off."

The mere suggestion makes your back arch and shaky breath exit your lungs. Once you're settled on the cushions again, Rick resumes filling in the details you hadn't been privy to.

"That's what got me. You were on your knees, looking up at me with those sweet eyes, pretty mouth full of cock. You were moanin', droolin' on it. You just couldn't get enough," he recalls as if talking about a memory, "I bet you love having a dick in your mouth, don't you? Lips like those were made for it."

You mewl again before nodding weakly. "I would've done it for you if you asked."

"I'm sure you would have," he smirks.

He leans in to give you more kisses as his fingers keep playing with your pussy. You keep rolling yourself into the touches. He's guessing you're getting close from the way your pace is picking up. He pulls back for a small break to catch his breath.

"Isn't this so much more fun when you're not being such a smartass?" he teases.

You pout at him as a reply. Your bottom lip wobbles as you struggle to maintain the expression. It was hard pretending to be upset when he was giving you everything you wanted.

"Don't look at me like that," he chuckles, "You're still a sweet girl. You just need the brattiness fucked out of you sometimes."

That wipes the pout away clean. Your lips part as you let out a tiny moan.

"Good girl," he croons.

But despite his praise, only a few moments later, he retracts his hand from your panties. You whine, and your eyes look up at him with a desperate urgency. He couldn't leave you like this. It would be deserved revenge for all your antics. 

"Nuh uh, none of that," he murmurs as his hand goes to push down his sweats instead, "So spoiled, and I haven't even started with you yet."

You quiet down, just relieved he's not leaving. You boost your hips to push your shorts and underwear down. He watches with satisfied eyes at your attempt to match him.

"I want you cummin' on my cock before anything else, sweet thing. Think you can do that for me?"

"Mhm," you hum softly.

Your stomach flutters and your clit throbs when his cock is finally in view. Just seeing it makes your mouth water. It's hard all for you, angry veins spanning down the shaft to the swollen head. You reach for it, but he stops you by grabbing your wrist.

"You don't get to touch it just yet. It's going inside you first. Then if you're good, I might let you play with it later," he says. 

In truth, this was the first bit of action Rick was getting in a while. Under no circumstances would he give you more ammunition for jokes by blowing his load from a handjob and then not getting it back up to fuck you proper.

You kick your bottoms all the way off as he rolls on top of you. He gives himself a few strokes of preparation before swiping his tip through your folds. A groan vibrates in his chest as the feeling of the warm, sticky fluid coating him. He lines himself up and sinks in. His hands move to the back of your knees, pushing your legs up to either side of your abdomen.

"Fuck, baby. You're tight," he grunts as he works himself between your walls.

You nod simply, still adjusting to the feeling of him stretching you out. Your walls flutter around him as if happy to finally have what you'd been craving for what feels like forever. He grunts again and tightens his grip on your legs.

A little bit more, and he's all the way in. He takes a moment to just feel it, your warm, wet, cunt sucking him in, embracing him like it was made to be his.

His forehead drops to press against yours as he begins to move. He thrusts at a moderate pace, but he makes sure to strike deep every time. Both of you are taking care to be somewhat quiet since it was the dead of night, but the sensations are strong with or without the noise.

"This what you been wantin', dolly?'” he breathes as the skin of his pelvis connects with your ass.

"Yeah, been wanting it everyday," you whimper, "I was hoping you'd have another dream."

"Oh yeah?" he asks, chuckling lowly between pants, "And you'd have been ready to help me out if it happened again, right?"

"Yeah. I needed it so bad. You don't understand," you whine. One of your hands rises up and tugs on his brown curls.

That draws a growl from him and makes him fuck into you harder.

"I do understand, pretty girl. Every time you ran that cute little mouth, I wanted to bend you over, spank that sweet cunt raw and then fuck it full," he mumbles.

Your eyes screw shut at the image he puts in your head. Your arms wrap around his neck and keep him close as can be. His hips rut into you with passion you'd never felt from anyone else before.

"That's all I wanted," you whine, clamping down around his length.

"You're gonna get it right now," he says and pounds against your hips harder.

They had morning after pills here. He'd seen a few packs in the infirmary. Cumming inside you one time would be fine. That's what his lust-driven mind told him anyways. He'd make sure to get some condoms before next time, because there would be a next time.

You wrap your legs around him and squeeze. He lets out a moan himself and slides his head over to bury his face in the crook of your neck.

"Fuck, baby. You ready?" he asks.

You nod eagerly as you approach the edge yourself. You slide one hand down to your clit, giving it a few strokes to make sure you could get there with him.

His nails dig into the flesh of your hips when he cums. His jaw clenches, and he grits his teeth, using everything in him to stay quiet. And you cum seconds later. The way you pulse around him milks him dry. He spurts rope after rope of pent up release into your wanting cunt.

You tremble and whimper beneath him, your eyes unable to decide if they wanna roll back or close tight. He gently rocks his hips against you the whole time until you're both sated. Once both of your bodies are ready to give out, he pulls out of you. He drops back onto his side like he had been before and puts himself back together.

You reach down and pull your clothes back into place. He wasn't sure what was gonna happen next until you turned to look at him. Once he has a look at your expression, he can see the part of you that loves to rile him up and tease is gone right now. The vulnerable one that lurks beneath the surface has the reins right now. 

You curl up to his chest. You wanna cuddle and kiss as you come down, and he gives you that. He gives it to you until you drift off to sleep again. He's not far behind you. You'd tired him out enough that he felt he could pass out too.

He scoops you up and brings you back to the couch with him, imagining this would look better than the both of you crumpled up on the floor together in a pile of disheveled blankets. Having you tucked to his side like this was all he needed right now. He'd done more than let go tonight. He was letting you in.

But those were thoughts for tomorrow. Right now, he's content to doze off with you into a dreamless sleep. There was no need for dreams now that he had the real thing in his arms.

[nastydogpublishingco]

rick grimes who is not going to give you a fucking hickey

rick grimes who is 15 years older than you, goddammit, and well past his “hickey days”

rick grimes who dismisses your pouty bottom lip with a wave after rebuffing your 12th whiny opine of the day about why you think he should stain your pretty throat with as many hickeys as possible, because honestly, he’s trying to maintain some fucking level of respectability around here

rick grimes who’s already had it up to here with the whispered gossip and dodgy looks he’s been getting since the group found out about y’all’s relationship, partially because of your substantial age gap (which, jesus, it’s not like he feels particularly good about that either, but he just couldn’t fucking help himself, ok?), but also because it’s common knowledge that he shares you with daryl, which…ok, yeah, maybe it’s a little unconventional, but it’s the fucking apocalypse! who has the bandwidth to care about shit like that anymore?

rick grimes who’s really, seriously not going to give you a fucking hickey, you need to stop asking him, he’s gonna get well and truly pissed off soon if you don’t stop —

rick grimes who sees a hickey on your throat one day.

clear as day, right beneath the soft hinge of your jaw, a bruise blotched into the otherwise flawless expanse of your long, pretty neck. and when his gaze dares to skate a little lower, wouldn’t you know it — there’s another one, on the other side, where the column of your throat melts into the rest of your shoulder, vivid and offensive.

you say they’re from daryl. you blink your long lashes and screw up your plush lips and fold your arms, like rick’s the one being ridiculous, like you didn’t just waltz in front of him with another man’s mark on you —

and listen. he loves daryl, honest to god. that’s his best friend, his right hand, the man he’d trust with his life one hundred times over. and daryl is a good man, so rick’s never minded sharing you with him. he knows you’re safe, knows you’re happy, yet all of that means dick the second he sees the evidence of daryl’s mouth on your body

rick grimes who is just a man, at the end of the day.

rick grimes who hefts you up and against the wall, his mouth latched onto your pulse point before you can finish asking him what the fuck he’s doing, his hands batting yours out of his fucking way because you like to fight him, you like to push and squirm and whine like he’s not doing everything you beg him for, because you know it makes him feel like a fucking pervert, but all the fight wheezes out of you like a deflating balloon the second he scoops your wrists into one large palm and thwacks them above your head so you stop fucking trying to push him away

rick grimes who scratches his way down your neck, sucking, biting, licking, the coarse scrape of his beard rubbing you raw, giving you what you fucking asked for, camouflaging the marks daryl oh-so-generously gave you with livid bruises of his own because he’s a bad, possessive, jealous old man who cannot stop himself

rick grimes who grinds himself against your ass while you whimper for him, high and strained in the back of your throat, like a cornered prey animal about to be gnashed between the foaming jaws of a predator, and maybe that’s what he is, maybe he’s a sick fuck because it makes him so fucking hard when you do that

rick grimes who wasn’t going to give you a fucking hickey, but now he’s given you five in places you couldn’t hope to hide without a turtleneck sweater and a thick scarf wrapped up to your ears, and he can’t stop himself, doesn’t want to, and if the way you’re panting and bucking and mewling for him means anything, he’d reckon you don’t want him to stop either

rick grimes who fucks you filthily, right there, against the wall, jeans halfway down his thighs, your skirt rucked up around your tummy, eyes spinning like pinwheels and drool silvering the corner of your ruddy, open mouth as he scuffs his teeth down, down, down, past your collarbones and into the soft give of your tits, because if you want fucking hickeys, he’s going to give you as many as he damn well pleases, wherever he damn well fucking pleases

rick grimes who cums in you, buries himself inside you so deep you choke on every thin sip of air you try to take, and your cunt spasms like it’s trying to push him out as he unloads, and he can feel it overflowing, can feel liquid heat welling around his cock and dribbling obscenely down your pretty thighs before it splatters onto the ground, and that should be enough, but oh, boy, it’s nowhere near

rick grimes who sets you clumsily back on your feet and catches you by the hips before you stumble forward, because he’s sunk to his (creaky, crackly) knees and hitched one of your legs up and over his shoulders so he can get straight to work sucking hickeys into the sinfully soft give of your lush inner thighs, and two of his thick fingers start methodically pushing his cum back into your drooling little hole, because it’s not enough to wear his marks on your skin, suddenly, you need to be wearing it on the fucking core of your being, as well

rick grimes who wrings one, two, three more orgasms out of you that way, who makes you cum until tears have mapped out a path down your red cheeks and pooled in the hollow of your throat, because your delicate pleas for mercy don’t change the fact that he’s decided your orgasms belong to him too

rick grimes, who in fact gives you so many fucking hickeys that daryl has the gall to look scandalized when he sees you next, like he played no part in the whole ordeal, and who’s selfishly, darkly, perversely thrilled about the way you tilt your head back and display your marred throat proudly, like you couldn’t be happier, grinning like the cat who got the cream

just. rick grimes

[interloved]

dilf!rick grimes with age gap

description box: rick knows it’s wrong, but he can’t keep his hands off you.

warnings: slight nsfw warning, mostly a drabble , prison!era

RICK THINKS IT’S SO CUTE actually, this little crush you have on him. it’s so obvious by the way you’re always looking for him when you enter a room, or the way you always giggle at his jokes—they’re rarely actually funny but you seem to think they are—and the way you always puff your chest a little when he’s there, as if you’re trying to get his attention.

and he lets you. lets you indulge your little fantasies. lets you follow him around. lets you cling to his arm.

he knows he probably should put an end to it—for god’s sake, you’re half his age! he could be your father! but you’re such a pretty, young thing; such an emotional and sensitive soul and so dependent on him, you’re as cute as a button and he just can’t bring himself to.

you’re a crybaby. so sweet. can’t get anything done without him, but rick secretly likes it, he likes the way you need him to do simple things for you like opening a bottle. he’ll flex his arms while he’s doing it and watch you almost drool over his arm muscles. it’s so adorable, really, he thinks.

or when you need help reaching something high in the shelf. he’ll grind up against you, hand on your waist, as he reaches up. he loves the way your breath hitches nervously and the way your frame almost disappears in comparison to his height.

sometimes you’ll even fake problems. you’re not even trying to open that box, you just straight up make your way to rick, demanding he opens this box for you. you think you’re so clever; that he doesn’t notice, but he does.

you make him feel like he’s young again. like he’s twenty years old and still desirable. rick knows you think otherwise, by god you’ve made that obvious. he could’ve taken you right there at the shelf and he knows you would’ve let him, would’ve let him do unspeakable things to your body, would’ve let him have you. but he didn’t. because he has a ring on his finger. because he has a son. because he has a daughter. and although he doesn’t have a wife anymore, he restricts himself from any kind of contact this way.

but right now, he somehow doesn’t seem to care, not when he has you like this—legs propped up over his shoulders, his name falling from your lips like a prayer, tears and runny mascara on your cheeks and marks all over your neck and chest.

he loves it when you’re like this. so unravelled. so messy. so pretty.

and he can’t help himself—he just has to have you.

[heartpeacenquiet]

art: Mac Baconai

[she-was-a-goddess]

i need him so bad ☹️ིྀ

[tinytownn]

moonshine crimes –

rick grimes x f!reader

word count: 14.6k

summary: based on this request...

content: 18+ [SMUT WARNING!!!], technically cheating (lori's chill w it tho), pet names like doll and darlin', car sexxxx, lotsss of yearning/very slow burn, alcohol consumption (don't drink and drive yall), implied age gap, protective daryl !!

a/n: hopefully this makes up for no joel fic this week lolol,,,this got a little outta hand. thank you for @kitty-grimes for beta reading this and getting me obsessed w/ rick even more than i alr was lmaoooo

leave all requests here…

A cool breeze bit through the summer heat, nipping at your arms. The sun was relentless. Sweat dripped down your forehead, your neck, arms—anywhere the sun could reach its rays. 

Some of the group had gone out for supplies. Only a few of you were left to guard the camp now, promises of food, water, and medicine kept you hopeful while you drowned in the humidity. Sifting through the heat, you hoped Glenn remembered your request for sunscreen—your shoulders already began to peel and blister—a near hyperthermic sluggishness to your movements.

Even if he didn’t, as long as everyone came back safe, you would’ve been content with whatever they brought home.

Home. 

It was funny you thought of it like that.

With the people you stayed around, there never was just one place to call home. Shane, the group’s self-proclaimed leader, kept the team wandering, always on the move. It was the only way of survival now, but it never stopped feeling like you lost a piece of yourself at each stop. The days blurred together, exhaustion wore thin as supplies dwindled and the trek just kept getting longer.

When the end of the world had struck, your mind went blank. Nothing had ever prepared you for this moment, there was no rulebook to follow. If you couldn’t figure this out on your own, there was only one thing you knew you could do: Find a group.

Stuck in piled up traffic along the highway, you became friends with the nearby drivers, striking up conversation when things started to sound more serious than just a car wreck. Carol and Lori were the first two by your side, idly chatting about what could’ve caused this traffic. Then, when things got more serious—drivers started attacking each other, gunshots in the distance—you all agreed to stick together. 

Shane came along with Lori, practically inseparable with how protective he was of her and Carl. He was possessive, not only when it came to his family, but the group as well. Although no one outright said it, Shane was what you all needed to get through this. It always felt like he knew more than he gave off though—that he had secrets he’d never let go—but he was Lori’s husband and you didn’t want to overstep.

Or at least you thought he was.

A few weeks into forming a real group—one supported by vehicles, supplies, and a real chance at survival—Lori had mentioned her actual husband.

“He was a real good father– husband too.” She turned her head to look around then, “Always looked out for me and Carl. I’m sure he would know what to do right now…”

The confession had taken you by surprise. It was one of the few times you had truly been alone with Lori—no Carl, Shane, or Carol listening in. It was a brief encounter, one entirely by chance, but it stuck with you for a while.

You had gone out in the middle of the night for a breath of fresh air. It was a full moon that night and you hoped the clouds parted just enough to let you catch a glimpse. When you peeked through the opening of your tent though, you saw a figure, hunched over and quivering over the smothered campfire.

Pulling a knife from the back pocket of your jeans, you planted quiet, careful steps towards the logs. Blade held at your side, nervously anticipating your next move, you quickly realized that this wasn’t a walker, nor was it a raider—it was Lori, crying in the dark.

That night you got closer to Lori than you had ever been with anyone since the outbreak. She wept to you about her late husband, how he was in a coma when the world turned to shit. How Shane—her saviour—went back for him, but was too late.

You couldn’t imagine the pain she was going through—the pain she had to mask for the sake of her son. She had clearly leaned heavily on Shane, even before everything, he was her rock. The two were so close that you thought they had been together for far longer than this. They just seemed so in love.

From then on, you watched the dynamic closely. How Carl slowly attached himself to Shane and how Lori lovingly watched from afar. Even in the mess of everything, they still managed to pick back up the pieces of their shattered family. It was something you admired, how she could look past her grief to make a better life for her son—for herself.

That hot, summer day was no different. 

Most of the group idled around, waiting for the results of the supply run as if it were any other day. Carl and Shane were out by the lake, catching fish. Lori and Carol bathed in the shade, hunched over the wash bin. Dale was taking watch up on the RV, looking for the rest of the group who was supposed to be back long before now.

“Merle said he was gon’ be back here before sunset ‘n by the looks of it, the sun is fuckin’ settin’.”

Daryl was growing restless now, driving the rest of the group mad while his brother was out on a run. He was pacing back and forth in front of you, his hand clawing at his scalp, tugging at the roots of his hair.

“You know what can happen on these runs,” you said, leaned back against the RV, your arms crossed. “They probably just had to take another way home. Glenn’s good with directions, I’m sure they’ll be back soon.”

To be honest, you weren’t sure of anything, but if it got the younger Dixon to stop pestering you, then a little white lie couldn't hurt.

“Y’ain’t sure of shit!” He yelled, throwing a punch at the old, rusted metal of the motorhome.

“Don’t dent my RV!” Dale shouted from above. “I better not see a scratch on her when I get down there!”

Rolling his eyes, Daryl took a few steps back to get a good look at the man posted on the roof. Laid back in his lawn chair, Dale had a gun sprawled in his lap, binoculars pointed right down at you two.

“This old thing? S’got more scratches than I can count.”

“How many is that—ten?” you quipped, a sly smile creeping on your face.

Daryl sneered, his footsteps clouding up dust until he was right in your face. “I ain’t messin’ ‘round right now, little princess.” He spat, so close you could smell his breath. “You’re sittin’ around while my brother s’out there takin’ care of the useless group y’all sent out with him.”

“Useless?” Standing up now, you shoved Daryl’s chest, sending him stumbling back a couple feet. “You should be grateful we even took your-”

“Quit arguing, you two!” Dale hissed. “I see a truck coming up the hill.”

Grumbling, Daryl pulled his bow from around his shoulders, getting himself into a good position. 

“You better hope this s’my brother.”

Shoving him further behind the RV, you pulled out your gun. “Or what, Daryl?”

The soft gnashing of gravel grew closer, a faint scent of gasoline filling your senses. Through the clearing, you could see a box van coming up the mountain. It looked harmless so far, no raiders peeking out the windows with guns, waiting to rob your camp. Pulling to a stop just shy of the RV, you could see through the windshield—it was Glenn in the driver's seat.

A crowd started to form as the other members of the groups noticed the arrival. Everyone was cautious when the stranger tumbled out of the truck, people were almost worse than walkers nowadays.

Shane was quick to make his way to the front, especially when he noticed the familiar face next to Glenn. He looked astonished, pale almost, at the sight of the officer.

“Rick?”

Whipping your head back, Lori clutched onto her son, quivering in fear like she was seeing a ghost. To her, she really was. You had only heard that name once from Lori’s lips—that night you comforted her outside of the camp—it was the name of her supposedly deceased husband. But here he was, alive and breathing, spinning Carl around in his arms.

===

Rick had become an integral part of the group, almost succeeding Shane in his leadership position. Things were taking a turn for the better, having two strong minds working together instead of Shane’s impulsive drive leading the group to disaster.

Although Carl was grateful to have his father back, things between him and Shane didn’t falter. Things with Lori, however, took a drastic turn. Like night and day, her feelings for Shane seemed to fade. 

Following her husband into the tent that first night, she never looked back, but you could tell the pain it caused her—the agony it caused Shane.

Unknowingly, you became trapped in the triangle too.

Never would you have done it on purpose, but the longer Rick weaved his way into the group, the more your feelings grew for him. It started off slight, his looks catching you off guard the moment you saw him. He was attractive, a thought that hadn’t crossed your mind about any man since the world went to shit. 

But the moment you realized he wasn’t yours for the taking—and never would be—you rid that thought from your mind.

Then you saw Lori with Shane again.

They seemed to be arguing at first, Lori’s hands up in the air until they curled into his hair, tugging at the roots. Then, Shane pulled her in by the waist, slamming his lips onto hers. For a moment, she went stiff, debating the consequences of her actions until she went limp, falling into his touch.

You stopped looking after that. Anything more and it would have felt like an obligation to tell Rick though you had barely known him. He just looked so happy to find his family again—god knows how long he was searching, the things he had done to get here.

From that moment on, you began to unknowingly attach yourself to the man. Whether it was pity, some sort of guilt, or a hidden attraction—you’d never know—but something had you and the officer tied to the hip. You tagged behind him on supply runs and perimeter checks, helped out with chores—basically became his second shadow.

He obviously took notice, so did the others in the group, but just like with Shane and Lori, they kept their lips sealed. Everyone knew better than to press, had more important things to focus on than a messy love triangle. It’d all blow over eventually.

You found yourself with Rick and Daryl, doing a perimeter check of the farm. The entire group was still very wary of the new location, but with a working agreement between Hershel and Rick, tensions seemed to be lessening.

“Ya keep walkin’ so close t’tha fence ‘n yer gon’ get zapped.” Daryl said teasingly, his boots dragging in the dirt.

“Maybe I’ll take you down with me,” you quipped.

Things between you and Daryl wouldn’t seem to have changed just listening in, but the way you spoke to each other now was softer—more joking rather than harsh jabs. It took a while, and a lot of convincing from Carol, but you finally came around to him.

Rick chuckled, shaking his head as he marked another weak spot onto his map.

“If Carl ever had a sister,” Rick turned his head to look at you, “I imagine this s’exactly what it’d be like, you two argue like children.”

“Yet you still bring us with you.” Scrunching your nose, you took the map from Rick’s hands. “Maybe if you gave us something interesting to do we wouldn’t have time to argue.”

“Alright then,” Rick took a moment before speaking, like he suddenly regretted saying anything in the first place. “Come with me on a run tomorrow. Goin’ to check out the next town over. S’that interestin’ enough for ya?”

You expected Daryl to chime in, complain about how he wasn’t invited or how he ‘didn’t even wanna come anyway.’ That never came though and the three of you just sat in a passing silence. The two men shared some sort of knowing glance, awaiting your response.

“Yeah.” Shrugging, you looked back at Daryl. “Yeah, I don’t see why not. Are you not coming, Daryl?”

He opened his mouth to say something, eyes nervously flicking to Rick before he stuttered out, “N-nah, I’m busy t’morrow.”

“Busy, got it.” You laughed, unconvinced. “Sounds fun.”

The rest of the search fell in a deep silence that you couldn’t seem to wade out of. Drowning in the tension, you waited for it to flood over and find a moment to breathe before you thought too hard about it.

Both men were painfully silent, sharing secret glances like they were having a whole conversation with just their eyes. It made you feel small, suddenly self-conscious around these people you had spent every day around.

When you got back to camp, you were quick to part from them, ready to shed the uncomfortability that grew on your skin. Before you could get back to your tent though, a familiar voice called out your name.

“Tomorrow morning, remember?” Rick called out from across camp. 

A few heads turned at the interaction, including an inquisitive Lori whose eyes flicked between the two of you, and the moment felt unnecessarily vulnerable—like this was something you were caught doing.

Nodding your head, you flashed a thumbs up before dipping into your tent for the rest of the night.

You didn’t know why things felt so tense all of the sudden. You and Rick had never been alone like this before. Daryl or Glenn typically tagged along, keeping you company as you babbled along, allowing Rick to complete the task at hand. It was always through the playful banter of your groupmates that you spoke to Rick—just teasing jokes and mindless chatter about the weather.

Everyone in the camp—except you—noticed the way you looked at Rick. How each time he turned a corner, a smile appeared on your face and your back would straighten just to get that much closer to him. It was all subtle, just your body trying to get your brain to catch up on how badly you had fallen for the man. That idea was strictly forbidden though—not even something that crossed your mind in the slightest. He was Lori's husband.

Though, you had noticed them sleeping in separate tents lately. During the day, they played up the role of a happy couple, but at night they were nowhere near each other, and occasionally, you’d hear Lori slip off with Shane deep into the night.

You liked to think that Rick could see through them. That he was smarter than his heart would let him and realize what was going on between his wife and best friend. If he did know, he did a damn good job at pretending not to care.

Unbeknownst to you, Rick did know—and he didn’t care. 

Blindly enamoured with his wife, Rick did anything in his power to find his family when he first woke up in that hospital. Stumbling upon this group was unknowingly the worst thing to ever happen to him as the weeks unfolded. A prickling feeling that something was just out of reach followed him everywhere. Some deep sense of dread followed him for days until he finally saw it.

Shane and Lori—his best friend and his wife—holding hands beneath a tree, having some sort of serious conversation. He wanted to wait and watch, find some more incriminating evidence than just hand holding, but he felt sick to his stomach at just the thought. Resentment was quick to grow towards the both of them, a rekindling of feelings inadvertently growing towards someone else.

In his time at the camp, Rick found himself gravitating towards you. Unlike the others, you didn’t seem to get caught up in all the fighting, choosing to keep close to Daryl and Carol. You were always a fresh breeze after a long day of putting up a front with Lori, saving face for Carl’s sake, and secretly wishing he was with you the entire time.

A large part of him felt guilty for his feelings. He tried his best to push them away and ignore them until he just couldn’t anymore. That was when he started assigning you to the same tasks as him, but always with another person to accompany you. It just didn’t feel right to him, the way he wanted to look at you, the things he wanted to say—to confess.

It was all too much for him that he’d bring Daryl along almost as a chaperone. He wasn’t too scared to talk to you—like Rick was—and could coax an easy laugh from your lips. The sound was heavenly to him, bathing in your voice as he walked around doing different chores, the time flew by with you chatting behind him.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t jealous of your relationship with Daryl. The two of you had gotten close so quickly after being sworn enemies that he wished he could make conversation just as easy.

 Of course he talked to you—always so interested in what he had to say—but that was the problem. You’d look up at him with those eyes, arms across your chest and your head tilted with a soft pout. He just couldn’t keep himself together when you looked at him like that.

And he knew it was wrong. He was married—still had the ring around his finger to prove it. So why did he invite you on a run tomorrow?

When Daryl pulled him aside after he had called out for you at camp, he still couldn’t answer that question.

“The hell y’doin’?” He said roughly, dragging Rick away from the crowd—away from the timorous eyes of Lori. “Thought we weren’t doin’ this?”

“Doin’ what?” Rick said dumbly.

His eyes flicked back over to his wife for a moment and a feeling of guilt panged his chest.

“You know exactly what—you’re married.” Daryl was seething, words barely audible with how he gritted his teeth. 

He was never one to press someone's morals, but this was Rick, the one person he knew to be noble and loyal. Without Rick to stand behind, he would have no one—the group would have no one—it’d only be a matter of time for things to crumble if he didn’t keep his head straight on his shoulders.

“We’re goin’ out for a run.” Rick crossed his arms, ready to walk away from the conversation. “S’not like we’re gettin’ eloped.”

“Bet you’d love that.”

“Well the plan’s already been made, so there’s no goin’ back.” Fumbling out a poor excuse, Rick stalked back towards the camp, catching a brief glimpse of Lori’s face before heading into his tent.

It was hard to gauge what she thought, nothing in her gaze besides a silent, defeated observation. Some part of Rick told himself that she deserved it after lying to him for so long, but another part of him—the part he liked to think was the real him—was disgusted he could brush off his wife’s emotions so easily. 

Rick tossed and turned through the night. When the sun finally rose, he wasted no time unzipping his tent. Though his lids were still heavy, his body exhausted, a rapid, thrumming heartbeat thrashed in his chest.

He really did need to go on this run, but was it too late to just go by himself? Maybe you’d wake up, grateful he had gone and left you the day to relax. 

The longer he stalled, the more he was starting to think Daryl was right.

He was married. So what was he doing going out alone with the only woman who made his heart race and his cheeks flush—a woman who wasn’t his wife.

Biting the skin on his fingers, Rick tore his knuckles raw, the skin puffy and bleeding. He was so caught up in his own mind, that he didn’t notice you had already woken up.

“You ready?” Beaming up at him with a warm mug in your hands, your breath frosted a little in the chill morning air.

It was barely light outside, no sight of the sun peeked above the horizon just yet. The rest of the group were tucked away in their tents, chasing warmth in their sleeping bags. That left just you and Rick alone in the middle of camp.

Suddenly his mouth felt dry, his throat closing in on itself.

Just one offhanded comment about going for a run and you were up bright and early with a smile on your face just for him. He couldn’t stop thinking about it—how happy you seemed to be here with him. There were none of those fake eye rolls or witty jokes you threw at Daryl. This was a side of you he rarely saw, a slightly less bubbly, but softer side. He felt special getting to see you like this, wanted to reserve this view for himself and no one else.

A quiet yawn left your lips and curled into a lazy grin. Tiredly, you rubbed the sleep from your eyes, looking to Rick for the next direction.

His lips parted, tongue jutting out to wet them—anything to get another moment of you like this. “Yeah, truck’s all warmed up. You got everythin’?”

“Mhmm,” Motioning to the bag slung over your shoulder, you nodded sleepily. “Gun, knife, water, and some food. I even brought a surprise in case the ride gets too boring.”

Rick couldn’t stop the smile that formed on his face. “A surprise, huh? Might have to drive extra slow then.”

Starting towards the truck, the engine rumbled gently, the lights flicked off to not wake the rest of the camp. It was nice just being able to talk with Rick for once. Your time together always felt sort of disconnected, or maybe it was just the boundary you had put up for yourself to not get too attached.

Rick's arm reached around you, pulling open the passenger door. His fingertips ever so slightly grazed your back, guiding you in the cab, stalling for a moment too long before shutting the door.

While he rounded the truck, the pieces of the puzzle—the one you had been trying to fit together ever since he invited you out here—started to fall into place. 

You couldn’t sit still. Now that he had touched your skin, it felt like you were on fire. Since you met, you had always thought your feelings towards Rick were purely physical. That the presence of a man this attractive was uncommon nowadays and the way your mind wandered was just a product of that.

The guilt seeped in, making you want to hop out of the truck and crawl back in your tent like none of this had ever happened. The way he spoke to you—his words finally meant for just you, his eyes focused on yours—made your body electric, practically buzzing in your seat. 

This was no small crush like you had thought. Over these past few months, you were falling in love with Rick Grimes—the husband of one of your closest friends.

You had thought it was just a coincidence that you and Lori had grown apart when Rick arrived. Figured she was preoccupied with the shock and patching things up with Shane. But maybe, just maybe, she saw what you couldn't see. 

Maybe Lori saw the way you looked at Rick like he hung the moon. The way you followed him around like a dog, obedient to his every word. What really had Lori’s eyes following you two that day though, was the way Rick looked. She knew that look anywhere because it was the same look he used to give to her.

That sappy, lovesick look that used to be solely reserved for her was now directed towards another woman—and Lori couldn't help but feel relieved? She was at a crossroads, having to take her place beside her husband, knowing her heart truly resided with Shane. It was a choice she didn’t want to admit was difficult to make, but seeing that maybe her husband felt the same gave her some hope.

Rick hadn’t lied when he said the ride would be slow. It started out with him telling you to get some rest and to ‘save up some of that energy for the interesting part.’ Little did you know, he just wanted to get a good look at you, up close, without anyone else watching, and not be too nervous to look you in the eye.

When you had finally dozed off, he brushed the loose hair from your face, watching the way your lips pouted out and the soft snores that left them. He drove extra slow as promised, but not for anything other than to make sure you didn’t wake up. Avoiding any potholes or branches in the road, he opted for the smoothest route possible.

He never would’ve admitted it to his face, but Daryl was right. The longer he was alone with you, the more his mind spiraled. Guilt was eating him alive even though he hadn’t done anything. The simple fact that he felt something was enough to crush him. The weight of his feelings were enough to drag him into a pit for the rest of the drive until you woke up.

Groaning, you squinted your eyes to adjust to the sun now peeking in through the glass. The truck seat was more comfortable than any place you had slept in months and the rhythmic rumbling of the tires was enough to lull you to sleep. A yawn escaped your lips, absentmindedly flipping in your spot until your gaze fell on Rick in the driver’s seat.

“Good mornin’, sunshine,” he rasped, eyes focused on the road.

“Shit,” you cursed, sitting up in your seat. “I didn’t mean to sleep that long. We almost there?”

“Told ya to get some rest, y’know I don’t mind.” Rick said, flashing you a smile. “Town should be right up ahead—right on schedule.”

Abandoned cars littered the roads and Rick tried his best to maneuver around them, but when he got to a certain cluster, there was no way out. You didn’t say anything, wanting to let him concentrate. A frustrated grumble left his lips, head peeking over his shoulder as he started to reverse.

“M’leavin’ the car here, there’s no way ‘round.” Slamming his palm onto the wheel, he set the truck into park. “I can see buildings right through the clearing. It should be close enough to bring stuff back.”

Nodding, you followed Rick’s lead. The sun was up now, just barely peeking through the clouds to pick up the morning dew that tickled your ankles. You both walked a few feet from each other, eyes focused on the couple of buildings ahead.

The walk was quieter than you had expected. You wanted to throw in some joke, one of those witty remarks that always came so easy when Daryl was around. Things felt so fragile now that you were alone, like all the things simmering just below the surface were starting to rise and the both of you could feel it bubbling over.

“I’ve been uh.” You stared at the ground, kicking a stone ahead of you and repeating the process all over again a couple feet ahead. “I’ve been talking to the Greenes a little more since we got here. They’re really nice people, especially Maggie—looks like her and Gleen have been hitting it off too.”

That last part made the both of you chuckle, the entire group letting Glenn awkwardly shuffle his way over to Maggie each day, trying to make a good impression. It was a noble attempt and Maggie seemed just as into him to relay the nervousness right back his way.

Rick laughed, running a hand over his jaw. “I remember bein’ like that—makes me miss bein’ young.” He said, his feelings more recent than he was admitting to.

In all honesty, Rick did miss being that young, nostalgic over the freedom he once had. Maybe if he was a little younger he wouldn’t feel the guilt that tore him apart each time he looked at you. If he was younger then maybe he would feel like he had a sliver of a chance with you. 

“You’re not that old,” you giggled.

“Thanks,” he laughed dryly. “Sounded real convincin’.” 

Rick looked over to you, not expecting you to be looking right back. He sucked in a sharp breath. Time felt frozen, like he was stuck here, body paralyzed by the force of you. 

“I mean it,” you said, a little more serious this time. “I know the world has gone to shit, but we have the whole world to make something of ourselves, to do whatever we want.”

He smiled to himself.

‘We’

The way you spoke like you were a unit, two pieces of the same puzzle. He knew you probably didn’t mean it that way, but his heart couldn’t help but hope that somewhere deep down you maybe felt the same.

When he didn’t answer, you took it upon yourself to fill the gap. “The world clearly favors you, Rick.” Your tone started off more lighthearted, but shifted into something more serious, weighing down the air just slightly. “After everything you still made it back to your family, your best friend, still alive. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, but you’re handling it a hell of a lot better than the rest of us.”

“You’ve got to,” he words were rushed, intense, with a fierce gaze that locked your eyes. “The only way Carl stays strong is if I’m strong for him.”

You noticed how he only mentioned Carl. Trying not to think too deep into it, you glanced over to the town right ahead of you now. There were a few walkers that roamed the streets and with how rummaged through the entire town looked, the risks seemed to outweigh any possible benefits.

“Just don’t wear yourself out.” Turning back to Rick, you gave him one last small smile before pulling a weapon from your bag. “Let people help you every once in a while.”

“I brought you here with me, didn’t I?” 

That statement felt more charged than he probably meant it. A heat flushed your cheeks and you refocused back on the threat ahead of you.

“Let’s get in there then.”

The crowd ended up being more than you could handle. What just seemed like a few walkers aimlessly roaming in the streets ended up being a whole horde. Even just the sound of your knives and heavy panting drew a flood of undead from out the alleyways. They seemed to be coming from every direction, crawling out of abandoned cars, old buildings and shops. There was no escape, having to result in your guns, you hoped that some nearby group would hear and come to help. As unlikely as that was, it seemed even more unlikely that you both were making it out of here alive.

Pulling the trigger, the empty chamber rang out in the air. Panic filled your body and you reached into your empty pocket as a last resort.

“Rick!” you yelled out into the crowd.

No answer.

Ducking past a few reaching limbs, you weaved through the crowd trying to find Rick. Heartbeat thrumming in your ears, the monotonous groaning was drowned out and your vision blurred at the edges.

Everything was blurry the longer the adrenaline coursed through your veins. It was a strong, heavy, and unwelcoming feeling that made you disoriented and wobbly. You hadn’t realized you lost Rick, let alone where. Now that you were separated, you had no way into the truck, no way home, and no way out of here alive.

There were no more gunshots ringing out and the mass of walkers drowned out any sounds Rick could make to call out for you. It felt hopeless and for a moment you just wanted to accept that you would die here. Your feet couldn’t carry you for much longer and even if you could outrun the crowd, where were you to go after that?

Then, an arm curled around your waist, pulling you away from the store you were about to hide in and carried you back towards the crowd. You didn’t think, just acted as you tried to claw the fingers from around your hips. Thrashing, you fought the body dragging you closer to the danger, thinking you were surely done for.

“Quit it.” A voice, low and rough, hissed out. “It’s jus’ me. I’m gettin’ us the hell outta here.”

Your brain slowly started to catch up, allowing your feet to drop to the ground and run alongside Rick rather than have him drag you along. He blew through the crowd, using a combination of his knife and the barrel of his gun to strike down the crowd. Trying to help out where you could, you took down a few walkers, fishing through the back pocket of Rick’s denim when you saw the truck in the distance.

“Here!” Running up beside him, you made a quick exchange of the keys and his gun, slipping the weapon into your bag.

It felt like your lungs were on fire and your heart would just pop out of your chest if you didn’t stop, but it was too close to give up. Reaching the vehicle, you tossed open the door, throwing yourself inside before locking the door shut.

The two of you sat in a heavy silence, letting the fastest of the walkers bang on the glass while the rest staggered behind. Your chests heaved, slumped in your respective seats, trying to comprehend how this all went so terribly.

Then, as the crowd started to thicken, Rick put the truck in reverse, ignoring all the thumps beneath the tires. Leaving the road, he merged onto the empty highway, biting the skin on his fingers.

Never had a run turn so quickly on him and of course it happened to be the one time you were with him—the time he was supposed to keep you safe. The crowd has just appeared out of nowhere without any shot being fired, there was almost nothing you two could've done differently.

“M’sorry,” Rick whispered finally. “I should’ve never brought you out here. It was dangerous ‘n I shouldn't be puttin’ your life at risk like that.”

His voice was low and even, almost monotonous. He was clearly scolding himself. After everything with Carl, Rick had been a lot more harsh on himself—questioning whether he could lead this group like everyone thought he could—only to drag you straight into danger.

And for what—a moment alone with you?

Shaking your head, you propped your legs up on the dash. “Are you kidding me? I asked for something interesting and you delivered. I haven’t felt this alive in months.”

“Yeah?” Rick quirked a brow in your direction. “M’glad you had fun. I feel like I’m ‘boutta drop dead from a heart attack.”

You laughed. A real, belly laugh. One that Rick had always heard, but never been on the receiving end of—at least not as often as he’d liked to.

“Well,” a sly smirk curled your lips, arms digging in the bottom of your bag, “if that didn’t take too much out of you…” Pulling out a sealed mason jar from the pack, you held it next to your head. “Here’s that surprise I was talking about.”

Rick flicked his attention from the road for a moment, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

“Which would be…?”

“Some moonshine I stole from that bastard Merle after you left his sorry ass up on that roof.”

He cringed at the memory. 

As much as Daryl had claimed to have forgotten about it, the thought of leaving that man—as terrible as he was—up on that roof, haunted Rick almost every night. Though you clearly didn’t seem to mind, almost relieved the older Dixon was gone.

“And what’re we doin’ with that?” Laughing, he couldn’t believe the idea you were proposing—nevertheless with him. 

“Drinking it, duh.”

He had never seen you anything more than tipsily chatting with Daryl over the fire. Now here you were, proposing he get drunk with you. Not only did the idea seem dangerous, out here just a few miles away from a marauding horde of walkers, but he wasn’t sure he could trust himself around you. He was a grown man, could surely control his body, but his mind was different—the things he might blurt out.

“C’mon,” you whined when he only bit his lip, staring out onto the road. “We have nothing but ourselves and this truck to look after. No one is expecting us until later tonight, might as well use up the day to its full potential.”

This was a bad idea. 

The temptation Rick felt told him how much he probably shouldn't have been doing this. If it were anyone else he’d immediately object, probably even confiscate the bottle, but this was you. Looking at him so eagerly, he couldn’t find it within himself to say no. He loved that yearning look in your eyes, the one that told him you really did want to be spending your time with him.

Wordlessly, he pulled the truck onto the side of the road.

“A few sips—but that’s all. I mean it.”

Already unscrewing the lid, you flicked it back at him, letting the metal hit his shoulder. Lifting the glass to your lips, your face soured, the smell immediately filling your senses. It was strong, pungent, and although it had been years since your last hangover, the feeling hit you like a truck.

“God,” you cringed, pulling your head back, “this smells awful. First sip is all yours.”

Shaking his head, Rick ushered the jar back towards you. “Ladies first. This was your idea after all.”

He seemed more relaxed than earlier. His shoulders were more slack, his body leaning into the cushions with the belt unstrapped from his shoulders now. There was a soft mechanic rustling as he pushed the seat further back, stretching his legs, watching you fuss over the drink.

Taking the first sip was brutal. It shocked your senses, bringing you upright in the seat, jolting you awake. It tasted awful, just what you expected from a handcrafted Dixon creation, but you couldn’t deny its effects. It surely did its job, immediately working its magic with the second sip. You could feel that slight tingle deep beneath your skin that was slowly giving you the confidence alcohol always seemed to.

“Here, five sips.” Shoving the glass into his hands, you dramatically scrunched your face, words garbled by the liquid. “Beat that.”

Raising a brow, Rick cautiously lifted the jar to his nose. “M’surprised you didn’t puke on the first sip—this smells like Daryl’s feet.”

Giggling, you curled your legs into the seat, leaning over the center console. “You know what Daryl’s feet smell like?”

Nodding, Rick gulped down a generous sip before handing back the glass. “Can’t miss it. He avoids showerin’ like the damn plague.”

“Maybe it’s a good thing he didn’t come with us.”

Then, taking another sip from the jar, you could feel your mind numbing. The questions you had always wanted to ask, the things you always wanted to say, didn’t seem as daunting anymore.

“Why didn’t you invite him?” you asked suddenly.

The question caught Rick off guard, snatching the glass from your hands to stall his answer.

“Needed someone to watch the camp,” he breathed out, the remnants of the moonshine glistening his lips.

“You don’t trust Shane?”

Questions were coming in quick now, not giving him a moment to breathe. The glass kept getting passed between the two of you, mainly ushered by Rick each time he felt too overwhelmed by one of your questions or intense stares—anything to buy him just a moment.

He drew his lips tight, the skin paling slightly. “Shane’s always been…” Taking another sip he took a moment to control himself, or maybe find the courage to say what he truly felt. “Impulsive. Don’t know if I can trust him in an emergency.” Then his last words were hot on his tongue, spitting out fire with every syllable. “Not with my son there.”

Nodding, you curled into yourself, knowing you tugged a thread too loose, letting his emotions unravel. Rick had always been so levelheaded that this was foreign. Sure, he had a lot on his shoulders—the stress was always evident—you had never seen him this unguarded though. He was letting it all out now. Finally bringing you into the space he always bridged so far with his silence. Letting Daryl typically fill the gap, Rick was able to feel close to you for so long without having to actually let you in. Now that the alcohol was talking, his true feelings began to spill over the edge and there was no turning back now.

You kept your mouth shut. Your feelings about Shane had always been the same, and it was hard to gauge if your hatred stemmed from the same place. You knew the things Shane was doing outside of his role as the group’s leader. There was so much you wanted to tell Rick, but it didn’t feel like the time—it never did—just seemed like something that would unnecessarily crush him.

“I agree with you,” Was all you said, letting the cab simmer in whatever this was.

“You see it too, right?”

Your heart stopped, stuttering a few times to catch back up—Could he know?

His words were vague, but deep down you knew what he meant. Feigning ignorance, you pressed your lips thin, lowering your gaze to the floor.

“See what?”

Scoffing, he shook his head, fists rocking against the wheel. “Y’don’t think I notice the way everyone looks at me? Y’think I don’t know my best friend is fuckin’ my wife?”

The words came out so even, so calm, that it frightened you more than any outburst could've. It was like he had rehearsed this. Like the anger bubbled within him for so long he had replayed this conversation in his mind more times than he could count. Instead of confronting them though, he was with you—vulnerable, voice raw and shaking.

“I-’

You didn’t know what to say.

“I’ve convinced myself not to believe it for long enough.” About half the glass was gone now, still switching between the two of you. “I can’t ignore it like it’s not happenin’ right in front of my face.”

Jaw slack, you didn’t know how to react. You and Daryl had spent countless hours on the topic, weighing the options between you, ultimately deciding it was better for Rick—and the group—to keep this a secret. Knowing he was aware the entire time made you wonder how he could keep it together for so long.

“I’m sorry we never said anything- that I never said anything…” Drawing a blank, your mind clouded—fuzzy from the alcohol but also from how broken Rick looked in front of you.

His head was heavy, eyes focused on his lap so intently that you were waiting to see smoke from the hole he had burned through the seat. Never had he been this vulnerable with you. Things with Rick were always surface level, light hearted conversation that left you in a lovesick daze. Now, this was just as real as your feelings for him, and once again you just wanted to tuck it all away and let this hot feeling of awkward shame leave your shoulders.

“That ain’t your job, darlin’.”

The nickname slipped off his tongue smoothly and although he had never used such a term of endearment towards you, it almost felt natural leaving his lips. Still, you felt the heat of it on your cheeks, starting to spread lower as the alcohol took its hold.

Nodding, you bit the skin on your lips, debating how to diffuse this tension. 

You both looked out onto the empty road, letting the silence clear your minds. For the first time tonight, you wished it wasn’t just the two of you here. That Daryl or somebody was here to relieve the tension, chime in and save the day whenever your feelings for Rick had your head too clouded.

“Yeah, but I still mean it, I really am sorry,” you said anyway, deciding speaking what was on your mind was better than nothing at all. “It’s not right. You woke up in the hospital, came all the way back here, just for her to act like she’s the one making the difficult decisions? I don’t get how you’re not furious, how you can just pretend everything is fine-”

The alcohol had you rambling now, a slight slur in your words the faster you spoke, your hands flailing around.

“It’s because I’m not pretendin’, sweetheart.” 

He cut you off politely, a deep, gravelly chuckle leaving his lips. There was a subtle blush on his cheeks, the alcohol affecting him too. Surely not as much as you, but it did guide the truth out easier, letting him get closer to you than he ever thought he could.

“What?” you gawked, dumbfounded.

Shaking his head, he smiled softly. It wasn’t a genuine smile, just one of those placeholders that said something like ‘ya caught me’ or a sarcastic ‘surprise!’ 

“S’not worth stressin’ over.” Raking his hands through his hair, he tried to distract you from just how misty eyed he was getting. “Can’t change what’s happened ‘n I’ve got more important things to focus on.”

“Cheers to that,” you nodded, handing him back the jar, “but you can’t just ignore it forever, Rick. You don’t know what that would do to you.”

Though you desperately wanted to lift the mood, you couldn’t help but express your concerns for the man. You knew first-hand the toll it took looking on from the sidelines. When Rick first got here, you experienced it everyday, watching him go off with Lori while your feelings got stronger and stronger. Even now, with the alcohol coursing through your veins, you don’t think you could ever form the words to tell him. This felt like the perfect opportunity with him so disconnected from his wife—but would that make you just as deceitful at her?

“Y’don’t gotta worry ‘bout that.” He leaned back in his seat now, seemingly more relaxed. Turning his head to you, he had a lazy smirk splayed on his lips, body caving into the exhaustion you both felt. “Been through a lot of heartbreak in this life. This surely ain’t the worst of ‘em.”

“Really?” Turning to him, fully intrigued, you leaned further over the console. “Thought you would’ve been the one breaking hearts,” you joked playfully.

Scoffing, Rick reminisced for a moment. “Then y’got the wrong image of me, darlin’. Wasn’t no athlete or anythin’ back then. Jus’ barely enough sense to get me outta highschool.”

“Sounds like you’ve changed a lot since then.”

“Glad to know ya think of me that way, doll.”

You both just stared at one another, the remnants of the past half hour swirling around both of your minds. It was strange for Rick to be this vulnerable, but with you it didn’t feel so bad. You wished you could’ve said more, found the words through the haziness of your mind and say something to truly heal the broken man in front of you. You just didn’t expect him to be so open with you. How much he didn’t care. It all caught you so off guard that anything you might’ve rehearsed in your head flew out the window.

His words were sharp talking about the situation, but any time he led back to you he always softened his words. Those nicknames kept tumbling off his lips like he couldn’t stop himself, like now that he got the first one out unquestioned, it was something he was addicted to.

“I really do,” you urged, trying not to let your feelings drive your words too much. “I think what you’ve done for the group is amazing. We never would’ve found somewhere like the farm without you.”

His tongue jetted out to wet his lips before he ran a steady hand over his jaw. "You're awfully sweet, darlin’, but you shouldn’t be thankin’ me after today.”

Scrunching your eyebrows, you lightly shoved his shoulder. “God, you’re such a drunk sap, Rick. You’re really still thinking about that? Shit happens, it could’ve been anybody-”

“But it was you.”

The words tumbled out faster than he could stop them, his eyes widened, heart frozen in place. He had just dug himself a hole, and by the look you gave him, there was no getting out.

Your lips were dry, stomach churning with bad moonshine and an unnerved tension. His words weren’t making sense, all this mindless babbling he’d done tonight, it just wasn’t Rick. That didn’t mean you hadn’t liked it though. His words were the closest thing you’d had to quelling that thought in your mind that maybe your feelings were reciprocated.

Breathlessly, you tried to repress your nervousness. “And I’m fine, Rick– barely even have a scratch on me.” You huffed out a sigh. He had been beating himself up over this all day when he should’ve just been grateful to be alive, and unharmed at that. “Just be in the moment for once. Enjoy being alive.”

The curls tossed atop his head, the back of his arm coming up to wipe the alcohol that dribbled from his lips.

“Can’t do that no more, sweetheart,” he sighed, taking a moment to lean back, really take a look within himself. Whatever he’d seen must’ve been too much because he reached for the lid, tightening the old rusty cap back on tight. “Got a whole group of people relyin’ on me to keep ‘em safe, can’t be wastin’ time livin’ in the moment. Even this…” he gestured to the jar, your empty bags, “I shouldn’t be doin’ this…”

His palms splayed wide, stretching his long fingers, nervously tapping them along the steering wheel. You watched them curl around the leather, the roughness of his hands audibly scratching against the threads. It sent a wave of heat through you, your legs crossed and the cab closed in tighter.

“It’s just one drink.” That was a little bit of an understatement. “It’ll be our secret– even Daryl won’t know.” That was the truth—no matter how difficult it was going to be keeping your mouth shut around the shaggy haired man.

It wasn’t the drinks Rick cared about, or the failed supply run. He was only worried about saying the wrong thing—ruining all of this. Nothing else mattered to him in this moment except you, but that confession was also the one thing that could ruin it all.

He fumbled with the ring on his left hand, the one he found himself wearing less and less now. He didn’t know why he chose to put it on that morning. Maybe he had expected this all along—the temptation he would feel—knew he would need some reminder of why he shouldn’t be doing this.

“Thanks,” he mumbled quietly, staring into his lap.

He had ruined it.

Rick had finally been able to talk to you alone, make you laugh, and he had gone and squashed the moment while drowning in his own self-reproach.

Then, it was slight, but fingertips crept up his bicep, wrapping around his shoulder. He looked to you to make sure he wasn’t imagining it. You gave him a soft, sympathetic smile. With nothing else to offer him but your presence, you fought through the shakiness of your hands and the haze of your vision.

You were definitely drunk now. It wasn't enough to set off any alarms by the time you got back to camp, but right now, kneading the warm, solid muscle of his arms was enough to tell him your mind was a little cloudy. 

Throughout the conversation, you had migrated closer and closer to Rick until you could almost feel his breath on your skin. He was hot to the touch, the tip of his nose and cheeks a bright shade of pink, and his messy mop of curls stuck to his forehead. Closing the gap, you could even feel it radiating off onto your skin.

Rick swallowed the lump in his throat, feeling your breath that crept up the side of his neck. You were swaying, leaning on your elbows across the center console—no longer interested in what you had been talking about, the weight of it seemingly gone from your mind. 

“I think…” Fingertips trailed his skin and you watched him shudder under your touch. “You should smile more…”

Your tone caught him off guard, more sultry and suggestive than you had been all night—than you had ever been. 

He shifted, not uncomfortably, but stiffly, weighing his options of how to move further. You were obviously drunk and your out-of-character behavior was definitely a product of that. As much as he wanted to convince himself you felt the same, that these were pent up feelings finally coming out within the heat of the moment, he knew it was wrong. 

“Sweetheart,” he shuddered, shutting his eyes as if he’d wake up from a dream. “I think we should get back to camp.”

Frowning, you jutted out your bottom lip, wet and slicked from the last of the moonshine. Your pupils were dilated, no longer flickering away from his gaze but holding it, strong and steady, tempting him closer.

“M’serious, Rick,” your words were more slurred, hands trailing lower. “Don’t like seeing you like this…thought I could cheer you up today.” Crackling in your throat, your voice got less and less confident and tears started to well in your eyes. “And I just made everything worse…”

His jaw went slack, your confession taking him by surprise. This whole time, you had been skating through this conversation just the same as him, treading on thin ice, too scared to make one wrong move. Now as the alcohol boldened your moves and softened your mind, it didn’t take long for the ice to break, dragging you beneath the surface.

“Oh darlin’,” he cooed, pulling you further into his chest, letting you grip onto his shoulders. “Such a sweet little thing…y’don’t have anythin’ to worry ‘bout.”

Your limbs were crumpled in the seat behind you, awkwardly twisted so you could bury your face in the crook of his neck. He could feel the hot, sticky tears that clung to his skin, the vulnerability that sunk in with each dig of your nails. 

“What’s got ya so worked up, doll?”

He was trying to be gentle and soft to not let you see how much his heart broke at the sight of you trembling in his lap. His hands roamed your back, tracing little shapes onto the skin from over your shirt, pinching the fabric between his fingers.

“I-It’s not fair,” you hiccuped.

Your drunken state had flown through all the stages so quickly: A bashful tipsyness that led into more thoughtful conversation, letting you both speak your truth until that unavoidable sappiness bled through the cracks and had you like putty in his hands.

“You work so hard.” Your voice was muffled in his neck, fingers desperately grabbing at the curls on the back of his neck. “Why do you let everyone run over you like that?”

This caught him even more off guard, the way you cared so earnestly. The way you sobbed into his neck like this had kept you up for nights, taking his problems just as personally as you own, had him reeling.

“Shhh…breathe, darlin’, breathe.” He smoothed a hand over your hair, shushing your sobs while you hiccupped into his skin. “Y’don’t gotta worry ‘bout me. S’long as the group’s safe—as long as you’re safe—I don’t mind takin’ a few hits.”

You lifted your head, shaking it frantically, cupping Rick’s face into your hands. Squishing his cheeks in a little, he looked at you, face scrunched and lips pouted. 

“I just wanna see you happy again– like when you first got here.” Your back stiffened, trying to bite back the anger from your voice. “The way she talked about you…I-I don’t know how she could do that.”

Your words held a certain discretion to them, like even after all this you were too nervous to breach this topic. This was meant to be a good time. You had brought the moonshine in hopes of getting closer with Rick, letting the alcohol dull your senses until you were no longer too nervous to talk to him. 

Whenever you and Daryl drank, it was never like this. The two of you would have lighthearted conversation, maybe wander down to the lake and playfully splash water at one another. You didn’t realize with so much hanging on this moment, all the time you had spent stressing over making it perfect, that you’d crumble the second the liquid touched your lips. Alcohol clung to your insecurities, peeling back the layers until that was all you could see.

The apples of his cheeks pinched between your palms. He couldn’t help the laugh that rippled from his lips with the sight of you, so fixated on making everything right. Truly, things couldn’t have been more perfect for him within this moment. This was the closest you’d ever been and though you grabbed him with a force that made his face sore, he wouldn’t trade this moment for the world.

Hearts pounding in sync, neither of you understood the weight of this moment, both sharing the hot, cavernous shame that buried itself within—wedging its way between you.

The grief Rick felt over his crumbling marriage was complicated. At first it tore him from the seams, pulling each thread until he was left a scrap of fabric on the floor. Then you came along and Rick started to notice the effect your presence had on him. What started with mindless babbling on supply runs or perimeter checks, slowly, unknowingly, let you weave the pieces of him back together.

“Y’don’t gotta worry ‘bout all that,” he cooed, tucking a sliver of hair behind your ear.

He wanted to say more. Wanted to tell you that he was that happy again—when you were around. He wanted to tell you that he didn’t care about his wife anymore not only because she had cheated, but because he had feelings for someone else—for you.

Instead, he only let himself say what the silver band on his ring finger allowed.

“Don’t go stressin’ over this old man’s problems, yeah?” Copying your movements, he carefully wiped the edges of your eyes, holding your face in his hands just gently enough he could excuse the action.

Leaning into this touch, you let your lashes flutter against his palm. Nodding against his skin, you breathed in his scent—the remnants of the alcohol on his lips and that deep, musky pull from the crook of his neck. 

Your small hands still held his arms, fingers creeping along his skin—feeling, tracing, memorizing—you felt him shudder beneath your touch. Readjusting his hips, Rick felt the denim on his legs getting more confined and he reached for his belt. Shifting the buckle, he tried to relieve the tension, but you just kept creeping closer.

He felt disgusting. Here you were, confiding in him, pouring your heart out to show you cared, and all he could think about was the blood rushing between his legs. His grip on you had tightened, palms greedily splayed on your waist, resisting every twitch to pull you onto his lap.

You didn’t say anything else, the moment felt busy enough with all the tension coming to a standstill. Though there were no words, the slow, lazy movements fused between each other were enough to speak for itself. Pure want filtered through every action and Rick found himself holding his breath in anticipation.

He saw you glance once, twice, at his lips. Jutting out his tongue, he slipped them beneath his teeth, maybe to dissipate the tension, or maybe to stop himself from giving in.

“Rick…?”

God, you were irresistible right now.

With spit-slicked lips and tear-puffed cheeks, you looked the closest to fucked out Rick had been able to see you outside of his imagination. 

He cleared his throat, grumbling out a soft string of curses. “Yeah, doll?”

Your eyes held a certain seriousness he hadn’t seen from you all night. He gave you his full attention, his heart beating fast with uncertainty. 

“M’sorry I got too drunk,” you slurred out sleepily, a gentle yawn leaving your lips.

Rick chuckled, shaking his head. He squeezed your cheeks between his palms and they almost disappeared with how his hands swallowed your face. 

You were so different now compared to just a few minutes ago. Like a cat, you curled up in his lap, claiming your territory. It was a cramped spot, huddled up between his chest and the steering wheel, but you didn’t seem to mind. 

His breathing shallowed the closer you pressed and he tried to fill his mind with thoughts that would stop the bulge from growing in his jeans. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable. If you saw how he truly felt about you, the way his body just couldn't resist, maybe he’d never get to see you again.

He smoothed his hands over the outside of your thighs, putting your legs on either side of him. “Ain’t nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout, darlin’.” You smiled into his neck. “Been havin’ a real nice time with ya…s’been a while since I spoke my mind. Nice to know someone cares.”

That last part was quietly whispered into your ear. Wriggling your toes excitedly, he felt the vibration of you humming contentedly against his neck.

Pulling back your head from the crook, he saw your cheeks dusted a rosy pink. They matched his and the heat of the cab that painted droplets on his forehead. Both of you were breathing heavier now, stickily clung to one another with desire hot on your tongue.

“I’ve always cared, Rick,” you pouted, almost offended. “You just never let anyone in.”

He hummed in response, lips pressed thin.

Rick knew you were right. Even Daryl, his right-hand-man, was oblivious to most of the things that raced through the man’s mind. There was so much he had lost—so much he felt he could never obtain—that the grief of it all was too much to speak out loud. 

“Want you to talk to me,” you whined, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “S’not fair how they treat you.”

Your head dipped low, stealing a gasp from Rick’s lips when you started to gently nibble at his collarbone. He sat there, frozen, his fingertips pressing further into your skin the more you licked. Your nose nuzzled the fabric of his shirt, breathing him in deep. A trail of kisses were planted from his pulse point to that soft, sensitive notch behind his ear. Your breath ghosted the shell of cartilage, feeling him twitch with every graze of your lips on his skin.

“T-thank you, darlin’.” He was fighting for his life now—one look away from bursting a blood vessel. “Awfully sweet of ya.”

Watching the Adam’s apple bob in his throat enticingly had your tongue flicking out, licking a stripe down the middle of his throat, feeling the groan he fought back. 

With the way he was holding on, you’d definitely have bruises where his hands sat on your hips. He was gripping onto you like a lifeline, the only thing keeping him from drifting away. You weren’t sitting on his lap anymore, but he had it so you were just slightly hovering above him, trying to lessen the temptation he felt. His hips would still twitch upwards with each sloppy kiss you left on his neck though, chasing friction like it was his only will to live.

You didn’t respond to him anymore, just happily sucked along the skin of his neck, feeling the goosebumps rise on his skin. His large hand closed down on the back of your head, sliding up your scalp until he had a firm hold of your hair.

“You’re killin’ me, doll.” His voice was low, guttural, with a breathiness at the end that sounded like he was pleading with you. 

Still, you didn’t look up, didn't even respond, just kept exploring the underside of his jaw, tugging helplessly at his curls. Getting a more hardened grip, he dragged your head to face him. 

“Look at me.” He demanded.

His words weren’t harsh, just firm.

Eyes blown wide and jaw slack, Rick couldn’t help but stare at your kiss swollen lips. He could feel every splotch on his skin where your touch still lingered—how much he had to pretend he didn’t want more.

“We can’t be doin’ this.” Repeating Daryl’s words from earlier, Rick tried to scold himself out of wanting.

“Do what?” you asked, playing dumb.

It was clear you knew what you were doing. It was what you had always wanted to do, but never had the shield of apathy to hide behind. Your embarrassment fizzled away with your sobriety, leaving you an empty husk of pure want—and Rick the target of your desires.

Lacing your fingers with his, you didn’t give Rick a moment to stop you. Didn’t give him the chance to tell you this was a bad idea.

His left hand covered your entire vision, his palm spread wide in front of your face. Cracks and scars littered the skin, hair curling between his knuckles and brushing roughly against the softness of your skin. Hand barely wrapped around his thick wrist, you toyed with the wedding ring on his finger, a cloud of guilt and anger clouding your senses.

You wanted to rip the damn thing off. It felt like some sick joke he was married—if you could even call that facade a marriage. It didn’t feel like she deserved him, but at the same time you wanted to understand the grief she was going through, and somehow process how she could do this to him. She was your friend, and you wanted to believe there was something redeemable under all the mistrust she created.

Rick stared at the band with you, both your eyes lingering on the metal, an unspoken conversation shared within the silence.

Cautiously, your eyes flickered to his, trying to read the mix of emotion in those icy blues. Then, slowly, you pressed a gentle kiss to the tips of his fingers, starting from thumb to pinky. He drew in a sharp breath, eyes not leaving yours as you worked your way across his digits. Lips pressed to his pinky, you trailed back, painfully slow, dragging the tip of your tongue over his ring finger, swirling around the tip.

He stifled a moan as you popped the digit between your lips. The band cooled your lips the further you took him, letting your eyes meet his in a deadly hold.

“Fuck,” Rick sighed, tipping his head back against the seat. “Y’don’t know what you’re doin’ t’me.”

He set you down on his lap, your plush thighs flush against his denim clad legs. You could feel him through his jeans and the way he tried to shy away from you. 

“I told you I had a surprise,” you giggled into his ear, bashfully hiding your face in your hair.

You wanted him bad and Rick could only resist for so long. The more he tried to pull away, the more of yourself you gave to him—it felt like an endless back and forth.

“You’ve been plannin’ this then, huh?” He rasped.

His guilt began to simmer and the realization that you wanted him just as badly—plus the grinding of your hips—dimmed any doubt he had before. A slight cockiness smoothed over his tone with you so desperately pawing at him, crying in his ear for more.

Nodding, you looked up at him through fluttering lashes. “Wanted you for so long.”

You whined, pulling yourself closer to him. His hands smoothed down your back, twisting the hem of your shirt around his fingers until he skated a light, feathery touch along your skin. 

“Yeah?” He laughed a little at your eagerness, the way you couldn’t hold yourself back anymore. “Coulda told me sooner, darlin’. Woulda taken care of ya.”

Pressing your hips down even harder, Rick took hold of your waist, stilling your movements. The pads of his fingers tapped gently against your side, beckoning your attention. Eyes blown wide, you looked up at him, lips parted like you were drooling over the sight of him.

“You want that, hmm?” Even with you crawling on top of him, nudging the buckle of his belt, there was a part of him that still needed to hear that yes. A deep, gaping part of him that still didn’t believe you could want him in this capacity, that in his position as a leader he had somehow swayed your thinking. “Wan’ me t’take care of ya?”

Impatiently, you clawed at the collar of his shirt, stretching out the fabric, trying to pull it over his head.

“Mhmm,” you nodded exaggeratively, your tongue poking out to wet your lips. “Please, Rick, that’s all I want.”

Well if you were gonna ask so nicely…

He smiled, washing away that last shred of doubt with that persistent look in your eye.

“Okay, sweet girl.” He glanced over his shoulder, wishing there was somewhere else other than the front seat of this truck he could be having this moment with you. The seat was cramped, your legs tangled in his lap, pressing against the steering wheel with a certain discomfort. “C’mere.” He lifted you onto the center console, guiding his seat back, and widened his stance for you to sit comfortably between his legs.

Happily, you perched yourself in front of him again, roaming your hands over the expanse of his chest. You tugged yourself closer, allowing yourself to get lost in the scent of him, letting your face absentmindedly brush against his skin.

“Wish this coulda been somewhere more special,” he started. Teeth grazed the shell of your ear, biting the lobe and tugging the skin harshly, making you whimper. “Been thinkin’ of this for a while, doll…” His hands slipped up the legs of your shorts, cupping your ass beneath the fabric, toying with the hem of your underwear. “How soft your skin feels in my hands…how good you’d taste. Feels like a dream jus’ gettin’ to touch you.”

You tossed your arms over his shoulders, bucking into his touch. Forehead pressed against his, you whined, wanting more of him. You placed your lips on his, tugging him closer and pushed deeper into the kiss. His lips were warm just like the rest of him, skin cracked and rough on the edges, reminding you that he was really here. Hands firm, he held you like it was something he owned, something he couldn’t live without. 

Brushing your tongue over his bottom lip, he gave you a false sense of control, letting you explore him eagerly, shamelessly circling your hips. You were chasing your own pleasure through the confines of your shorts, moaning into his mouth each time you felt him brush up against you.

If he weren’t so close, Rick could’ve lived in this moment forever, letting your bodies meld into one another. He couldn’t fool himself though—he wasn’t getting any younger. It had been a while since he’d felt like this, been this close to somebody. Though his mind was cherishing this moment, taking it all in one breath at a time, his body was chasing a fast release, his balls tightening with each roll of your hips.

“Slow down, doll” he chuckled, hands resting on your hips, stilling your movements. “M’not goin’ anywhere.”

That made your head dip low and cheeks flush in embarrassment. It had been so long since you’d been intimate—spent so much time daydreaming over this man—that the moment you got the opportunity you were rutting up against him like a hormonal teenager.

You softly mumbled out an apology, hips twitching with need as you tried to give him some space.

“Jus’ a little eager, ain’t that right, darlin’?” His fingers held tight on your jaw, cheeks slightly pinched together. Your eyes were glassy, lips pouted with a pent-up frustration that made his cock twitch beneath the denim. “Ain’t nothin’ t’be ashamed of.”

Nodding, you smiled, pawing at the loops of his belt, tugging his hips towards you.

He curled his fingers more sharply around you, cupping your heat, feeling the damp, sticky wetness through the fabric. Your body was a stripped wire, feeling every touch times ten, flashing sparks with each graze of his fingers.

Rick was so gentle with you in his words. You could feel through his touch that he wanted nothing more than to strip you down and claim you as his. His mind was a complicated thing though, always had been, seeking confirmation with every interaction. He didn’t move his lips or wander his fingertips until he had found the spot that made you shudder, moving on to claim the next piece of you, lapping up your sounds like praise.

He turned you in his lap, pressing you back flush to his chest. You could see out onto the street now, fingers curling around the leather of the sterling wheel while you tried to ground yourself. Lifting your hips, he popped the button of your shorts, sliding the fabric down your legs until they pooled at your ankles. 

Sucking in a breath, he groaned out a low string of curses, taking in the view of your soaked undergarments. Looping the waistband over his thick digit, he snapped the elastic back onto your skin, watching you flinch forward.

“Stop teasing.” You pleaded, arching your back, chasing his touch. “Please.”

The sound of your desperation, those salty tears rasping your voice, had his fingers moving even slower. He wanted to hear you beg. Wanted you sobbing in his lap until your tears soaked the denim, just pleading for a taste of his cock. But you were so sweet with your tear stained cheeks and puffy lips, asking for him so nicely. This time he’d let you off easy, figuring he’d savoured the moment long enough.

“Okay, darlin’.” His thick middle finger breached the hem of your underwear, pressing up the seam between your thigh. “Easy now.”

You were thrashing against him, bucking against the empty air. He kept you still though, one arm wrapped over the front of you, pressing down on your hips. His head dipped next to yours that was lulled back onto his shoulder, eyes squeezed shut with an impatient scrunch of the nose. His stubble scratched your skin and you could hear his stuttered breaths while he looked down at your core fluttering around the tip of his finger just barely grazing your entrance.

Collecting your wetness onto his fingers, they glistened in the light, matching your slick coated thighs. Pulling the rest of the fabric from your thighs, he brushed his thumb against your clit in a long, slow stripe. Again, you arched your back up off of him, tipping your head back with an unrestrained moan.

That was the sound he was looking for.

Latching his fingers onto the bud, he pinched, watching you squirm beneath him. Once again, you flooded his ears with that melodic sound, the unspoken praise perking up his ears.

“Rick…” you sighed, reaching down to his wrist, urging him for more.

Pressing down firmly, he traced slow, lazy circles onto your clit, watching the way your face scrunched in pleasure. He took in every subtle nuance, matching his fingers to the pace that had your eyes rolling to the back of your head. With full control, he used his leg to guide you along his slick coated fingers, slinking his hand to brush against your entrance. 

“Fuckin’ soaked,” he said in awe. His movements were quick, dipping the tip of his fingers between your walls before retreating with a squelching ‘pop’. “Y’hear that? She’s jus’ beggin’ f’me.”

You babbled incoherently, all thought going to the chase of your hips after his fingers. Rick forced his fingers past your lips, garbling the words on your tongue as he pressed the pads further down your throat. You gagged around him, spit bubbling up through your lips. He experimentally dipped his fingers even further back, testing your limits for just a moment before retreating, letting a string of spit connect him to your gasping lips.

He could do this all day if you’d let him. Looking at the way you twitched in his lap, mind numb, body pliant, you honestly might’ve let him. Watching you writhe in pleasure, chasing after his touch, having you call out for him—it was all too much.

Rick was studying—learning the ins and outs of your body in case you ever gave him the honour of touching you like this again. He could ignore the discomfort in his pants if it meant he got to hear those pretty moans on your lips just a little longer.

Eyelids fluttering open., you cried out his name again. “Need you,” you mewled. 

“Y’got me, doll,” he whispered huskily. “All of me– jus’ gotta tell me what you need.”

“Your cock,” you said shamelessly. 

You were always bold, cracking crude jokes that made the group stifle a laugh, maybe even roll their eyes. This was beyond any of his expectations though. This was pure, blatant desire—all directed at him—tumbling off your lips one confession after another.

“S’all yours,” he rasped coarsely. 

Your little fingers tugged on his belt, haphazardly unlatching the clasp the moment he gave you the go ahead. You were beaming, practically buzzing, to get your hands on him. Palming him through the fabric, you pulled down his jeans. Leaving him in just his boxers, the plaid fabric stared back at you intimidatingly, doing little to conceal the rest of him.

Shy fingers poked through the opening, carefully pulling out his length. He held his breath, watching you in awe, a crazed look in his eye while you lazily stroked his cock. Letting out a shaky groan, he couldn’t stop his hips from twitching up into your palm or they way needy moans filtered through his lips.

Rick was a giver—would’ve let himself go untouched if that’s what you wanted. You seemed to be enjoying his pleasure just the same though, taking in those beautifully parted lips and messily scattered curls. 

As much as he wanted to collect himself—focus on your pleasure—he was content with letting you take, take, take, his cock further and further into your palm, wrapping another hand to compensate for the girth.

He was big. Enough to make you a little nervous through your brazenness. The length of him was average, a perfect six or so inches that curved deliciously to his flushed tip. Wrapping your hand around him though, the base of him was wide, the tips of your fingers barely meeting back together. 

Rick was a mess beneath you, heaving out breathy moans and squirming his hips. He was close, more than he’d like to admit, and although your hands felt like heaven on his dick, he tore away your wrists.

Your eyes flicked up at him with a sharp insecurity, the hastiness of his movements taking you by surprise. He still had your wrists taken in his palm, chest heaving while he tried his best to collect himself. Every movement had him sensitive, on the verge of release, but he couldn’t let himself finish before he got inside you—before he made you finish.

You yelped as Rick lifted your hips, tossing your arms over his shoulders for balance. He was steady in the confined space, lip tucked beneath his teeth as he watched you with precision. Leaning back, he angled his hips towards the wheel, guiding you back so he could watch himself slide into you.

Sliding his tip through your slick, you gasped, tipping your head against the glass. He notched his tip to the brink of your entrance, watching your chest heave. As much as he wanted to watch the way you swallowed him in, he kept his focus on your face, stilling his movements each time he saw you wince.

He only had the tip in and you were already scrunching your nose, squirming away from the sensation. The intrusion burned, his cock bullying its way through your walls, pushing its way in with a brutal stretch.

You hissed, latching onto his arm, your other hand against his chest, trying to push him away. “S’too much, Rick,” you yelped, watching his swelling tip push past your folds. “C-can’t do it.”

Guilt burned his chest hearing you squeal like that, clawing into his chest to relive the ache. Seeing you so fucked out though—eyes rolled back, lips parted with a shiny trail of spit slicking your skin—he couldn’t pull out now.

He cupped your face, callouses scratching against your skin to refocus you, to bring you back to him. Curling his fingers around the back of your neck, he pulled you to his chest, easing in another couple of inches while he smoothed out your hair.

“I know, darlin’, I know,” he shushed your cries into the fabric of his shirt. Tracing shapes into your skin, he waited for your sniffles to subside before taking your hips back into his hold, guiding you down the rest of his length. “You’ve got it…” He picked your limp head off his shoulder, watching it soften as you got used to his size. “See? Ain’t too bad.”

He felt a tight squeeze around his cock and wriggle of your hips telling him he was allowed to move. Still, he needed further reassurance through your frantic nods into the crook of his neck.

“This okay?” Slowly, Rick pulled all the way out until it was just the tip, letting you sink back onto him with a loud squelch. You murmured some sort of praise into his skin, a conglomerate of ‘yesss, please, more’ muffled into his shirt. “Gotta hear ya, doll.”

“Yesss,” you moaned, lifting your head the best you could to look at him through teary eyes. “So good…please.”

Rick let out a satisfied hum, content with himself in how quickly he was able to make your mind go stupid on his cock.

Picking up the pace, you could feel the truck rocking beneath you. His breath was ragged, keeping himself flush against the back of the seat and holding a solid grip on your hips. As he pounded up into you, the edges of your vision blurred out, getting fuzzier the closer your bodies got. Your bodies clung together, sweat dripping off his curls and into your lap, only adding to the soft sloshing between you. 

He had fully stopped talking now, too close to the edge to hear your sweet voice try and respond to him. Just your gasps, stuttering out with thrust, was almost enough to send him over the edge, his eyes squeezing shut with the last of his restraint.

Trailing his hand around your front, he dipped his fingers between your folds, collecting the slick you were so generously pouring out for him. Deft fingers crept to your clit, starting with light, fluttering taps that had you biting your fist, trying to conceal your noises. He built up the pressure, finding a steady rhythm around the bud until he felt you shaking, your walls squeezing him in tight.

“C’mon, doll.” He leaned forward, swallowing back a groan, choosing to sink his teeth deep into your shoulder. “Let it all out.”

You cried out at the sensation, all of too much as you came tumbling over the edge. Little crescents indented the skin on his shoulders the deeper you dug, trying to ground yourself through your release. You were trashing in his arms, feeling the drag of his cock past your walls even through the aftershocks. 

He didn’t let up, kept pounding into you with the same force while you rode out your orgasm, chasing his own release. Just moments behind, you heard a broken moan stutter out from his lips, a rosy pink dusting his cheeks. Lifting your hips, he guided you further back against the wheel. Pulling you off his length, he frantically brought up a shaky hand, imagining it was yours as he tugged along the length of his dick. 

His eyes were focused on the tears bubbling in your eyes, that blissed-out look behind them, and the way your pussy fluttered around nothing, trying to coax his length back in. His hips stuttered once, twice, and he was painting the inside of your thighs with his release, blindly smearing the rest along his tip, leaning his head back with a sigh.

“God.” He looked at you in disbelief, almost reaching down to pinch himself. “Can’t believe you’re real.”

Giggling, you felt a hot embarrassment creep up your neck. Sobriety had settled its way through the cracks, your orgasm washing a needed wave of clarity over you. Now, despite being the one to initiate all of this, you felt embarrassed to have been so needy in front of the man you had been crushing on for months.

Rick took notice of your silence, the way you avoided his gaze like the plague. Scrunching his brows, he took hold of your chin, forcing you to look his way.

“Doll?” He blinked, trying to read your expression. “Y’alright?”

Bleakly, you nodded, somewhere far off from yourself.

“Talk t’me,” Rick urged, growing more concerned. “Did I do somethin’ wrong?”

Frantically, you shook your head, palms splayed out in front of you. “No, no, it’s just…” you trailed off, trying to find the right words. “Was…was that okay? I was pretty drunk and all over you…Are you sure that’s what you wanted?”

A laugh leaked from his lips before he could stop it from happening. 

You thought you’d forced yourself on him? 

He could’ve never thought of something further than the truth—the same exact thought clouding his mind except about himself.

“That’s what got ya so down?” Chuckling, he brought a hand to your face, pinching your cheek with his thumb. “Thas the last thing you need t’be worryin’ ‘bout. Could never stop me from wantin’ ya…was worried that you didn't want me, darlin’.”

“Really?” you giggled, popping your head off his chest. 

“Yes, really,” Rick smiled. “An old man like me would be crazy passin’ up a pretty girl like you. ‘Specially if she wanted me s’bad as you do,” he teased, giving your hip a playful squeeze. “Needy lil thing.”

Rolling your eyes, you tried to hide the blush that crept on your face. “Yeah, yeah, Grimes.” Crossing your arms, you gave him a feigned look of annoyance. “Thought you said we needed to get back to camp?”

Squeezing your thighs, he took one last look over your figure before clearing his throat. “Anythin’ you say, darlin’.” His eyes were unfocused, darting up and down your frame—god, he was pussy whipped. “Let’s get ya cleaned up first, yeah?”

Smirking, you dipped your pointer finger down to the puddles splashed on your thighs. Swiping at the liquid, Rick watched you intently as your lips wrapped around the digit, sucking off the salty fluid.

“Fuck,” he hissed, taking your thighs in a bruising grip. “Gonna be the death of me, doll.”

a special thanks to my taglist ♡ @death-in-a-tar0t-card @skankhvnt42 @riverz-pawz @1unaang3l @thee-fantastic-mrfox @spookysights-blog @snooziesuzie @kitty-grimes (message me to be added or removed)

[sickobuff]

♱ day 7: chastity ⸝⸝ rick grimes

kinktober 2025 masterlist . . wc: 2k

cw: dubcon, heavy themes of religion/blasphemy, corruption, p in v, creampie, virgin!reader summary: man’s first sin was giving into temptation, and my god, don’t you just look ripe for the taking.

his maw snapped around your throat before you had even spoken to him. canines, dangerously sharp, goring into your soft, unblemished flesh, tongue suckling the sweet nectar that he bled from your neck. his mouth watered, saliva pooling in his throat, frothing at his lips, at the thought of tasting something so forbidden, sinking his teeth into you, swallowing you whole.

his sense had gone. blinded by faith, he would later muse, despite never having had a truly religious bone in his body. it was a passive belief, one that seemed more fleeting with every day spent on the road evading the dead. it would have been snuffed out entirely if it hadn’t been for you.

you, a local farmer’s daughter, taken under herschel’s wing after your family had been torn apart by walkers. you, whose granddaddy was the town’s old priest, he learned, more devoted to your faith than the greene patriarch himself. you, who would barely look at the men of the group when they came poking around on the farm, too shy and skittish to give them a proper greeting like the rest of your people had.

he recognized the starved look in his men’s eyes. he knew it was only mirrored in his own. that unsatiated look of hunger glowing deep within the dark abyss of their pupils, the internal seething that came from not being able to gorge themselves full. you were tantalean, kept just out of reach, leaving them aching for just another glimpse to sate their appetites.

but you were off-limits – herschel made that clear from the get-go. it was one among the many; herschel had laid down a lot of rules when they first showed up, ultimatums wrapped in the guise of hospitality, dictating their stay on his farm.

now, rick was a respectful man, thought himself honorable through and through – but to ask him of that? to resist such temptation? he might have been a good man, maybe, but even the best succumb to sin eventually.

that’s what he told himself, anyway. that he was only a man. that the lecherous feel of that forked tongue brushing at his ear was only natural, the whispers of depravity as earthly as the winds that carried in the sky. that there was something reverent, something unequivocally holy, about the slide between your thighs, the warm spasm of your walls as he sullied your untouched cunt.

he grit his teeth at the feeling of his tip pushing past the leaking seam of your pussy, notching against the snug catch of your fluttering hole.

“that’s it… biiiig stretch,” he’d said, tongue prodding against his molars at the ‘pop’ he felt feeding his cock into you, little virgin cunt finally giving way. you cried, choked gasps punched out of you like he was splitting you apart. weak hands shot out to claw at his arms, teary-eyed sobs of ‘s’too much, too much’ falling pretty from your lips.

in hindsight, it probably would have been nicer of him to break you in on his fingers first. pry you open gently, get you soft and pliant before giving you the real thing – but it had been hard enough coaxing you into the barn in the first place, his placating, lulling words falling on deaf ears as blasphemous guilt tore you to shreds. 

“rick, i— i don’t.. i’ve never done this before—“

but goddamn, did he try.

“that’s alright, sweetheart, i’ll show you how.”

“don’t be scared, baby. it’s natural… you feel that? see it? that just means you want it. and this..? s’means i want it too.”

“look, you won’t even have to do anything, yeah? perfect just like this.. so perfect for me, huh…”

“m’right here, honey. you’re alright… doin’ so good for me…”

working you onto his cock seemed like the only thing to do. righteous, in a way. batting away any hesitant, wavering murmur of ‘chastity’ or ‘marriage,’ of ‘purity’ and ‘propriety’ that lingered like syrup on your tongue with every slow rock of his hips. and it worked. all trepidations melted away from you, trickling from your ears with the slog of your brain, coagulating in the hollow of your throat.

your dress was rucked up under the swell of your breasts, his hand splayed wide over your tummy, pressing you flat to the haybale to hold you still as he rutted into you. he felt bad, looking down at the sorry pinch between your brows, the tears wetting your lashes as you winced at the sting, but he just couldn’t bring himself to stop. 

it was overwhelming, the feel of you wrapped around him. squeezed so impossibly tight, convulsing as you tried to contend with the brute force battering its way inside you. were you dragging him in? or were you pushing him out? did you even know?

you sobbed when he fully sheathed himself in you, cock twitching in tandem with the wet pulse of your cunt.

“fuuuck, there we go,” he breathed, grinding into you once you’d taken him to the root. it ripped a keen from your throat when he nudged the gummy flesh of your cervix, your nails digging into the wrist at the foreign feeling.

“shh, you’re alright, you’re fine,” he soothed half-heartedly, leaning up to look at where you were connected. god, you were just so full, weren’t you? little pussy stretched wide around him, skin pulled taut around the thick of his base.

he gave a mean thrust. watched the way your slick glistened on his cock as he left the warm clutch of your walls, felt the way you clenched around him at the feel of him sliding out, heard the filthy wet squelch when he snapped his hips back in.

your mewls fell on deaf ears, completely blind to your tears, to the jutting pout on your lips as you tried to make sense of the heat flushing through your body, the jittery, confusing pleasure you felt from something so forbidden.

no, he was focused on the thing curling around his head, constricting around his skull, squeezing until his ears popped. the open hinge of its jaw pressing into the tender flesh, fangs exposed, spitting venom into the deepest recesses of his brain. vile, unforgiving, sinful thoughts, spewing forth like vitriol.

he was ruining you. 

he could see your whole world view shattering behind your eyes with every thrust of his cock. watched as you realized that everything you knew, everything you had based your life upon, was suddenly wrong. tipped upside-down. because of him.

his hands circled your waist to fuck you down on him, dragging you across the scratch of the hay to meet the fervent pace of his hips. and you let him. soft, buttery thighs curling into his sides, little fists knotting in the fabric of his sleeves. your head tipped back to let out a small moan.

“yeah, that’s right, honey,” he crooned, grinning as you clamped your eyes shut at the slick sound of his balls slapping against your ass. “feels good, doesn’t it? me fuckin’ this tight little pussy?”

you whined, pulling a hand back to smother your lips. you were overwhelmed, the heat of arousal singeing every neuron, burning every synapse, until your brain ran runny, pooling molten in your skull.

“yeah it does,” he hummed, answering for you when you didn’t reply. “best fuckin’ thing in the world.”

he knew he was fucked. he knew it the moment he stepped foot on the farm, the moment he laid eyes on you, tantalizingly ripe, all but dripping your saccharine nectar from where you stood.

herschel’s words meant nothing to him. the temptation was too great, too transcendental to pass up. he would glut himself on you, slake his thirst with the arousal that drooled from your cunt. it was some base instinct, some primal, human compulsion. he needed to sink his teeth into you. he needed to gorge himself full, to swallow you down, to lodge you in his throat.

his fingers dragged over the smooth slope of your stomach, brushed over your mons. he spread your lips, saliva pooling on his tongue at the mess he found there. you were wet, fucking gushing, around his cock.

he slipped his thumb over your clit and you yelped, thrashing in his hold as your twitching pussy clamped down on him. he could feel you tensing up, feel your knees pressing harder at his sides, your walls spasming every time he bullied his length back into you.

you peeled your eyes open, a confused whine settling in the back of your throat as your orgasm crept up on you. god, weren’t you sweet, looking up at him like that.

“s’alright, i got you.”

your lip trembled, a soft whimper drifted its way into the air, and you nodded. fuck, you trusted him. to lead the way, to guide you through this and keep you safe.

his hips stuttered, sent reeling from the gluttonous sludge of greed that surged through his veins, black tar oozing in place of blood, all pumping down to his cock. he twitched inside you, felt the pull of his own orgasm snaking down his spine.

he almost lost it when you mewled out his name, grabby little hands reaching down to tangle with his own. you didn’t know what you were doing, did you? fucked dumb for the very first time, eyes glassy, mind gone. his teeth buzzed at the sight.

god, he fucking ruined you, didn’t he? spread out underneath him, hay tangled in your hair, hands clasped with his on either side of your head. your thighs squeezed tight around his hips as he split you apart, stuffed you full, plugged you up. you were spoiled the second he plucked you away from them.

this was repugnant. this was disgusting and defiling and depraved. he took you into his dirty hands, unsullied and pristine, and mangled you onto his cock. pure and untouched, twisted about as he bullied into you. this was desecration—

“rick— rick, please?”

he shuddered, bowing his head to rest against yours. you gripped his hands tighter, moans spilling unabashedly from your lips as he fucked you through your peak. you clenched down around him, twitching and writhing at the slide of his cock as he battered into your poor cunt. he watched the tears trickling down the the sides of your face, settling wet in your damp hairline, and he came.

slammed into you, buried himself as deep as he could go. and you welcomed him. choked out a wet sob and wrapped your arms around his neck, hugged him close as he spilled inside of you.

he didn’t have it in him to push you away, to pull out and come on your belly, hope he moved fast enough for it to not take. he stayed, cock pulsing, spitting up more and more spend with every spasm of your sensitive pussy clamping down around him.

no — no, this was veneration. this was worship. pious and devout, drinking in the soft hymns that fell from your lips, laving in the golden ichor that gushed around his cock. only something divine could have created you, shaped you with their godly hands, the very image of perfection.

you were his object of ruination. put in his path to test his resolve, and fuck, if he didn’t fail. his pride, his greed, voracious and destructive in the face of something so sweet, so delectable.

it was his sin to bear, but he dragged you down with him. left you marked with his crimes, all but scrawled your name on the gates of hell, right beside his. 

he cooed when you mewled at him shifting inside of you, twitching as he slid himself out of the warm clutch of your pussy. would’ve died right there, on the spot, watching your poor, abused hole clench down around nothing, his cum dribbling out with every pulse, spilling down the cleft of your ass.

purgatory could wait, he figured. he wasn’t going to let you die any time soon, and he wasn’t going anywhere either.

⤷ this is my magnum opus.

tags: @slutforgrey @4unnyr0se @may-nia @c1eepypas1a @noooah @rafecameronswhoore @arigoldsblog @friedpickle1243 @asparagus-antics @bunnybichbabby7709 @thisclassisrodikulus @sarah-bear706318 @xanaxiii @nichemint @the-mist-ery @mattibuttface @cinefilaleitora @parkersbunny76 @truth-shifts @sweetiebbi @blushinglace @littlelovingideas @m0th3rcal @sexcworm @death-in-a-tar0t-card @eternallydean @rickgrimeshusband @jdmslover @looopylooony

[doedixon]

‧₊ ༯ constable rick and his dirty mouth…

“shit. just look at you…”

alexandria’s streets have never been quieter than in this moment, and thank god. you’re not sure how you’d turn up to any community events going forward if anyone saw you here like this, slutting yourself out for officer grimes the second he’s instated.

“r-riiick, fuck! someone’s gonna see—”

a particularly punchy thrust from him knocks the wind out of your lungs, cutting you off with your own gasp. you start to claw at the siding of the home he has you pushed up against, trying to find any solace from the way his dick splits you open. rick groans nice and long, taking a second to readjust you and to speak.

“such a sweet girl, y’know? mmh- who would’ve known… a uniform would get you this wet.”

he hikes up your hip, thoughtfully smoothing his rough hands over your exposed skin before fucking into you again. he drinks in your whines, head dipped down to watch the way you take him so eagerly, easily.

your hands grab at nothing before shakily finding rick’s arms, flexed under his jacket. his head shoots up, another taunt already playing on his tongue feeling you run your fingers over the badge embroidered on his sleeve. it brings a faraway, fucked out look in your eyes he’s obsessed with. the strength in his grip frees you to go limp, squeezing the life out of his arms, your cunt just drooling around his length.

“you like that.” rick purrs, not even bothering to ask. “is it the badge, honey? haah.. s’that what gets you this dumb?”

you try to nod, form a sexy, coherent reply, anything other than just moan and let him take you, but he makes it so hard. the curve of his cock sliding inside you so evenly is unreal, white is already beginning to blear your vision, and he’s absolutely right. this new authority of rick’s is making you very dizzy.

“don’t ignore me, sweetheart…” grabbing your attention, rick moves you all the way down his cock in one swift motion, bottoming out and holding you there.

you yelp followed by a string of curses, squirming while he exhales a dry chuckle. staying in tune with you, he moves in and catches your lips in a quick but steady kiss, his fresh stubble tickling slightly as he eventually moves his way down your neck.

“wasn’t… i wasn’t ignoring you, sir,” you start, regaining your wit. rick immediately reacts to the title, almost growling into your skin. he nips you before separating, those calculating blue eyes shifting all over your face with a dangerous smirk ghosting his lips.

“i-i don’t want any trouble.”

rick hums in faux consideration, massaging nicely at your sides before moving a hand to your lower stomach, right above where your bodies connect. holding you firm once again, he picks up his forgotten pace, fucking you like some kind of doll. all the heat of the moment bubbles frantically in your core, right where he’s pressing down on. you pathetically throw your worry of getting caught to the sun, whining your new constable’s name like a mantra as he breaks you in.

“yeaahh. cum like a good girl and there won’t be any trouble.”

— authors note. hiii im new here :p my first time writing for rick which is v suprising cause twd is my favorite ever. thanks for reading 💘

[tinytownn]

revenge is a girl's best friend –

rick grimes x f!reader

word count: 6.2k

summary: based on this request...

content: 18+ smut warning !!!, first frfr smut so probably horribly written im so sorry, rick is ur ex's dad, so much plot not enough smut lol, daddy kink :P, y'all get peeped on for like 2 seconds??, no use of y/n

a/n: omg i could actually not take myself seriously when editing ts, i was giggling so badddd. i feel like this is terrible but im leaving it at that and im sorry i hid behind plot for so long lmaooo i was scared...also why does rick look airbrushed in that photo??!!

leave all requests here…

It was late. 

Later than it should’ve been to be stumbling around the streets of a vaguely familiar neighborhood. Your feet–and the uber that you barely remember routing here–guided you despite the tears streaming down your face. Hazy streetlamps lit the way, the bushes all melded into a similar view, vision becoming blurry.

Hiccuping out sobs, you didn’t mind the way your feet dragged across the pavement, heels lazily balanced on your fingertips. Your movements were sloppy, hips swaying as you swerved around the sidewalk, hands messily fumbling through your misshapen bun–quite obviously drunk. 

The night was meant to be fun, catching up with some old friends while visiting from college. Showing you all their favourite spots made home feel less boring–the thrills of the town opening up now that you were older. Despite the changes to its appearance, most of the life within your hometown stayed pretty consistent–people attended the local colleges, lived with their parents, and stayed friends with the people they’d known their whole life. 

That’s why when you left, everyone was shocked.

Moving away for college was a last minute decision–not one you necessarily regretted, but wished had more thought behind it. You had a good group of friends, ones that truly cared for you, and a great support system back home–there was no reason for you not to stay.

But within that last month of high school, your whole world changed. Your boyfriend of five years, the only guy you had ever been with at that point, publicly cheated on you and humiliated you in front of the entire school.

You two were the school’s star couple, winning king and queen at prom, most likely to get married in the yearbook, and even ran a club together. There wasn’t anything you hadn’t done with him right beside you–unknowingly lying and cheating.

Everything had just come out of nowhere within that last month. Things were just how they’d always been except with the new thrill of college up ahead. 

Then you saw him.

Arm slung around another girl’s waist, leaned back against his locker like it was just any other day. Looking around confused, all his friends were snickering as if this was an elaborate prank they were pulling. Worst of all was that smug look on his face, like he knew he had gotten away with it and that you were in complete shock.

Come to find out he had been with this girl for two years–most of his friends and the school were already aware of it all. Everyone had lied straight to your face and laughed at you when the truth was revealed. 

No one blamed him–just you.

The bullying was insufferable–she deserved it, how stupid could she be?, the other girl is way better anyways. 

Your friends tried to protect you, tell you that it was all just to get a reaction out of you, but that didn’t stop you from needing an escape. These were the people you were meant to spend the next four years of your life with and there was no way they were going to make it tolerable. So you submitted applications to all the colleges at least an hour away from town and took your life there. 

Then it all stopped when you saw him again.

With that same girl cuddled up under his arm.

You don't know why you felt the way you did. It was some strange conflict between wanting to be–knowing you should be–right where she was and needing to just punch the smirk off both of their faces.

Once they saw you, your night was immediately over. It felt like the whole room was looking, in on some joke that you weren’t a part of. Almost as if it were an eclipse, you avoided your gaze to the corner of the bar they had claimed, taking a shot each time your eyes dared to take a glance.

One shot turned into two…and then three…and then you were marching your way over to them.

Blood boiling hot, your face was red, steam practically pouring from your ears as your friends pulled you back.

“We hate them as much as you do,” your best friend grumbled, pushing you out of the bar. “But you can’t just go around starting fights. You said it yourself: ‘No going home with an embarrassing story.’”

It was a drunkenly made pinky promise before leaving the house: that there would be no bad decision making to have to make up for in the morning–and she was to do whatever it took to help you achieve that goal. 

You were less willing now that she was actually upholding her end of the deal.

“‘S’not fair,” you slurred, leaning your weight onto her. “He’s an asshole ‘n this stupid town sucks his tiny little cock for it.”

“Yeah, but let him ruin his own life. It’s bound to happen soon enough.” Slinging her other arm across your lap, she grabbed your phone from your pocket. “It’s not worth getting into even more shit over him. Where am I sendin’ you tonight?”

Snatching the phone from her hands, anger still coursing through your veins, there was almost a blackout moment as you typed in your ex’s address. “You’re right,” you laughed a little too loudly. “Fuck him.”

Sighing, your friend slid you her water bottle as she sat on the curb, waiting for the Uber with you. “That’s not what I said, but close enough.”

The ride was short, each passing minute letting you realize just how drunk you were and forget just exactly what you had come out here to do. So when you approached the house, his house, it felt bigger than it had ever seemed before.

He still lived with his dad, the familiar squad car alone in the driveway–the empty space where the other car was supposed to be a bitter reminder of who he was with. As angry as you were, as drunk as you were, you weren’t stupid enough to destroy the property of a cop, even if his son was an asshole.

The twenty bucks you had probably spent on that ride were now useless and as you slowly sobered up a lingering embarrassment bubbled in your chest. Reaching into your pockets, you fished around for your phone to call for a ride home–at least you knew you were safe in front of the house. Still pretty drunk, you swayed, leaning onto the car for balance now as you struggled to pull out your…Fireball shooter.

With your phone missing and only a shot of whisky to your name, the options for the night were growing slimmer.

“Fuck!” you yelled, taking the shot before chucking the empty bottle towards the car window. “So stupid!”

“Should have you arrested for that, y'know?” A deep voice rang out from the front porch, the light now on with moths skittering around the figure. 

Mouth agape, heart stuck in your throat, you turned to the door and faced the man you had considered a second father for years–Rick Grimes–the actual father to that unfortunate soul you called an ex. He stood in the doorway as confident as ever, that lazy smirk and welcoming eyes plastered across his face.

“Thought I didn’t recognize ya?” Laughing, he ushered you in, one hand rested upon his hip.

There was a moment of hesitation–you were of legal drinking age now, but being this drunk in front of a man like Rick, especially a cop, made you nervous–it must have been plain to see on your face, the way he softened his approach.

His voice was softer now, that striking confidence settling into something more caring and calm. “Let’s get ya some water, hm?” He stepped forward, outstretching his hand for you to take as you carefully wobbled up the stairs.

Nodding, you drew your lips thin, biting them raw while his hand sat gently on the small of your back. Shutting the door softly behind you, he was quick to get comfortable, slide his shoes off and grab you both a glass of water before you even made it out of the foyer. 

“Thanks,” you whispered, fingers brushing as you took the cup.

You took small, slow sips from the glass, needing something to do to avoid conversation with the man staring you down. It had been years since you’d seen him, never even said goodbye before moving out of town and never stopping by when you’d come back to visit. It’s not that you had nothing to say to him, but everything you did just didn’t feel right—like somehow exposing the truth of his son would do more harm than good. 

“Didn’t think I’d be seein’ you ‘round here ever again.” His vague attempt at opening conversation fell flat, the door just a few feet away calling your name the entire time he spoke.

Only giving him a small shrug, he nodded and you thought he had gotten the message.

“D’you wanna take a seat?” Without even waiting for an answer he ushered you towards the couch and despite wanting to leave, you knew he would never let you unless he was driving you.

Without giving an answer, you dropped your heels to the ground with a clunk and shuffled over to the couch, the cushions beaten in with years of memories. Plopping down, the pillows enveloped you, keeping you in their grasp, unable to escape Rick’s gaze as he sat in the recliner across from you.

Legs spread wide, there was a certain glint in his eye that told you he wasn’t going to give up. He dealt with criminals who held onto worse things than whatever your drunk mind was holding onto at the moment and he knew how to coax it out of you.

Icy blues stared directly through you and there was no longer that innocent fear you felt when his jaw would tense and the room seemed to fall silent as his command. Instead, you felt nothing but a raw, pure hatred.

You hated Rick for raising such a shit son, for never reaching out to ask what happened, for inviting you inside tonight, and for looking at you the way he was–because you weren’t exactly upset about it.

Maybe you were drunk, or maybe it was some childish revenge scheme, but the way he spoke to you–those lingering touches–weren’t like how he acted before. But you never noticed how handsome he was before either. 

Shaking your head, you finished off the rest of your glass, trying to clear your head.

When Rick had first heard the commotion through his bedroom window–the shuffling of feet, cursing, a bottle being thrown–he had thought it was his son and girlfriend coming home from whatever bar or party they were at. The noise had been loud enough to wake him up and immediately he was furious–he had been told countless times to be quiet when arriving late to not wake up Carl.

Slipping a white t-shirt over his head, he didn’t even bother to take a glance in the mirror before stomping downstairs. Anger was hot on his tongue, ready to make a scene–Carl was away for the weekend and this was the perfect time to put his out of control son in his place.

Rick loved both of his boys equally, but towards the end of high school, he had lost hope in his oldest son. He didn’t know where he went wrong, if it was even his fault at all, but after his wife’s passing the entire family felt like they were drowning–and Carl was the only one he could pull back up with him. With you by his son’s side, he thought that things would be okay, but you only got caught in the crossfire.

So seeing you–tears streaming down your face, hair tousled, and skirt tugged dangerously high–there was a conflict of emotions going through his mind. Confusion, guilt, and temptation all muddled into one split second decision–his mouth moving faster than his brain.

It had been years since he’s seen you–thought about you. He was too caught up in trying to manage his bills, his grief, his family, and lastly himself if life allowed the time. The weight of the world was on his shoulders at all times, but when he saw you it was like a gentle breeze to a time when things weren’t so bad. His initial anger washed away, cleansed, by the girl–now woman–he hadn’t pictured the face of in years.

The city, or wherever you had moved, changed the way you dressed–a short denim skirt and tight, long sleeved shirt that hung low on your shoulders–something he would have never pictured you in. Back then you were more reserved, tucked within yourself, hiding away beneath baggy sweaters and jeans–always dressing to some nonexistent confines. And even though it would seem like you were more free, your face was hardened, eyes dulled with the harsh realities of adulthood.

There was an underlying worry in the way you spoke to him, like you being in front of him in this house was somehow forbidden or illegal. He had been in your life for so long, seen you at his home for the better part of five years. And now you could barely look him in the eye.

Deep down, burning within his chest was a simmering outrage. Whether at himself, you, or his son, was something he couldn’t piece together. Seeing you so vulnerable in the middle of his yard late at night only meant one thing in his mind–that his son had done something again. He didn’t want to push, didn’t want to pry, but the way you dismissed him so coldly as if he were just as guilty pricked at his skin. 

“So you gonna tell me what you’re doin’ in my yard'n'the middle of the night, sweetheart?” His tone was sharper now, attracting your attention and quickening your heartbeat.

The man before you now was different from the one on the porch. Those once kind and inviting eyes were now dark, out of patience as his brow scrunched low with frustration. His foot tapped impatiently on the floor as he leaned back deep into his La-Z-Boy, arms crossed and flexing through the sleeves of his t-shirt. It was tight enough to see his rough, uneven breaths through the fabric and the way your drunken eyes overtly grazed his chest only made it harder for him to shield his temptation.

“Saw your son tonight,” you spat, the boldness of that shot, and all the ones before, enough to finally make you speak all the things you had swallowed down before. “Still with her.”

You wanted to make a snide comment, poke fun at them somehow, but all that came to mind was a blind fuzziness and hurt. Tears blurred your eyes, voice cracking at the end before you looked away–anywhere but at him.

In the kitchen behind him, a faint glow of the neon numbers spelt out 12:48, letting you know you had overstayed your welcome. Defensiveness grew heavy in your veins, a creeping sense of discomfort growing at both your sudden vulnerability and still drunken state.

You weren’t meant to be here and certainly not meant to be clenching your thighs at just the thought of the man before you–let alone the sight of him.

A deep sigh left Rick’s lips and a heavy hand went to scratch his stubble, his eyes finally flicking to the corner of the room. “I know,” he answered simply, voice low. “But y’know I can’t change that.”

“Didn’t ask you to,” you bit back snappily. The room in the air had shifted–still tense, but laced with more frustration now. “Just thought you’d know how to raise your son better.”

You were digging deep, getting personal without even meaning to–just what years of silence, and a bit of alcohol, had driven you to say.

He stretched his palms wide, fingers fidgeting in his lap. “You don’t get to say that…” Pained eyes bore through your skull with an uneasy smile. “You don’t get to say that when you know what happened.”

“Then explain Carl.” Your cheeks were hot and a racing heartbeat was thrumming in your ears. “He’s top of his class, has good friends, and is a really good kid. He made it through.”

“How do you know that? Maybe I was there for Carl a little more than-”

“You weren’t there for anyone but yourself, Rick.” 

His head perked up upon hearing his name fall from your lips–something you had never called him before. His breath hitched, an unfamiliar feeling swirling around his mind as he shifted in his seat.

“That was all me.” You were almost yelling now, voice echoing in the empty living room. “You were falling apart and that boy had not only lost his mother, but his dad too. I was there to cook him meals. I was there to take him to school. I was there when all you did was work and sit in your room. And I still bring him lunch at school when I come home to visit. He’s a really good kid, Rick. Don’t fuck it up.”

Silence hung heavy in the air, pressing so heavy on Rick that it felt like he couldn’t breathe. He wasn’t one to dwell on the past, the memories of his wife’s passing and the events surrounding it buried deep within his mind. It was a meld of sleepless nights and long shifts, drowning in gallons of coffee, that he couldn’t remember how present he actually was as a father.

“You still talk to Carl?” His eyes chased yours like it would somehow tell him everything he wanted to know. 

Nodding your head you sat up, pulling yourself from the cushions. “We got really close after the funeral. I was always stopping by to check on everyone, but it was always just Carl at home. Thought you both were just at work, trying to distract yourselves, but…” Trailing off, you tried to erase the memories of all the times you didn’t know you were being deceived. “Either way, Carl kicked my ass in a lot of Mario Kart back then.”

A soft smile tugged at his lips, but there was something deeper in his eyes, like he was holding back from something. 

“You could have just told me, y’know?”

The secrecy fizzled out as your eyes met, the truth hidden beneath years of silence finally broken.

“You knew?”

Your words were laced with a mix of emotions–hurt, anger, betrayal–all mixed within your tone, making it hard for Rick to keep eye contact. He nodded though, committing to his truth as he stretched his lips thin in a neutral, unwavering stare.

There were so many questions you had, but the buzzing confidence you had was no longer there–dissapated with the rest of your drunkenness–now left a hollow, sober shell, left to deal with the consequences of the night.

The man in front of you was no longer the Mr.Grimes you respected and looked up to as a kid. He wasn’t the father that came home excited to greet his sons with a smile, ready to hear about their day. This was a roughened, more harsh version of himself–the pieces of himself poorly welded back together leaving him jagged and scarred. This was Rick. The man you weren’t sure if you could fully trust, but also the one you weren’t sure you were ready to leave yet.

Something about this change of character, that regret pierced deep into every word he spoke, made you curious about him. His brown hair had greyed significantly, face was littered with the start of sinking lines, and crows' feet pinched each time he wrinkled his nose. Every part of him showed signs of stress and age, like within the time you left he had done more worrying than not–life giving him a silver medal of approval.

Despite that constant look of worry, it all suited him well. That peppered look trailed nicely into the remnants of his beard–something he no longer grew out–and the way his fingers still subconsciously trailed their way to it, an old habit of his, made him seem just ever-so-slightly more familiar. 

“He told me you broke up with him,” he chuckled, the idea seeming stupid to him now. “That you were goin’ to another school. Didn’t believe it until I heard you left town ‘n I jus’ never had a reason not to believe it.”

You scoffed, the time passing on the microwave behind him making you more and more anxious. Not only was the topic of conversation not something you wanted to hear, but the thought of having to see your ex twice in one night wasn’t in the plans.

“Listen, you can believe what you want, I don’t really care. But you could’ve just asked me if you wanted to know how shitty your son is.” You stood up from the couch and the sudden breeze made you realize just what outfit you had on. Cheeks burning, you stared at your shoes, pulling down your skirt before rounding the couch. “Can I have a ride home now?”

His eyes trailed your figure as you bent over to put on your heels, wobbling slightly as you did. Getting up from the recliner, he made his way over to you, placing gentle hands on your waist to steady you.

“You’re askin’ for a ride now?”

Standing up straight, you backed away from his touch, placing yourself closer to the door. You were sober now, all the temptation from earlier should’ve been gone. 

So why was it suddenly stronger than ever?

“Didn’t think you’d let me leave without one,” you quipped, crossing your arms.

It was like you were both tugging on a rope, pulling back and forth between this bickering hatred and an underlying temptation–one laced with years of wanted revenge. You both knew it was wrong–not only was Rick older, but there was always the risk of your ex, his son, finding out–but somehow that made the temptation even greater.

Back against the door, you were trapped between the choice to flee and the desire in front of you. Rick’s eyes were clouded, a shroud of emotions not so cleverly hidden behind that poker face of his. 

“‘S’too late,” he drawled, words coming out soft and slow, letting the decisions make themselves. “Ain’t right to leave a woman out at night like that.”

Looking up at him through fluttering lashes, you shot him a sly smile. “Wish your son thought the same,” you said, giving him a clear view of your intentions–the reason you had come here in the first place, although your revenge hadn’t gone as planned.

He still kept his distance, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his sweats that hung low on his hips. “Well he don’t know how to properly treat a woman.”

“And you do?”

The question came out faster than you meant it–more desperate. Your eyes pulled him in, had him stumbling over his own feet before he could even think about what he was doing–and how badly he wanted it.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he reached out his hands until the tips of his fingers just barely brushed your face. “I can take care of you,” he whispered, dipping his head low, searching for signs of doubt. “Please you better than he could.”

When you looked up at him, heart stopping in your chest, his lips connected with yours. His hands were shaking, fingertips unsure as they travelled up your waist. Rough lips nipped against yours and gave way to the hunger he was so desperately restraining. You trailed your nails up his back, clasping your hands in a delicate hold, draped over his shoulders. Leaning into your touch, he groaned softly, pulling back only to take a glance at you–make sure you were still on board with all of this.

Heaving breaths escaped your lips, a thin trail of spit connecting the both of you as the kiss ended. Wasting no time, Rick dipped his head into the crook of your neck, splaying wet, messy kisses to any surface he could find. A soft whine left your lips and a fierce unrestraint pulsed through Rick’s veins as he found it more and more difficult to hold back.

From the second he saw you stumbling around, plump ass on display for him to see, he knew he wanted nothing more than your soft skin grasped in his hold as he bent you over any surface in the house. Not only had the past few years of his son growing more and more disobedient run enough stress through his veins to cause him a heart attack, but the loss of his wife had left him lonely in more ways than one. He was desperate and frustrated, something he had been able to tuck away–until you pranced into his house, licking your lips, dead set on revenge.

“Rick…” you sighed, hands travelling up to his hair.

A chuckle, low and enticing, rumbled against your throat as he placed an open mouthed kiss. “Since when d’you call me that, darlin’?” His eyes were wide, pupils dilated, looking down at you with a new, brazened confidence. 

Your cheeks flushed and you began to retreat back into yourself slightly–the reality of this moment weighing upon you as he looked at you with such intensity.

He laughed again, standing up straight and observing you like a predator watching its prey. Just like you were when you first entered, silent and obedient, Rick outstretched his hand and once again you took it. Now that you weren’t biting back, stringing slews of bitter insults towards him, it was like he was inwardly calculating some getback of his own.

“You there, sweetheart?” Pulling you closer to him, hands splayed across his chest, there was a brief uncertainty that flashed over your eyes. “Forget about him,” he whispered, lips grazing the shell of your ear. “Let Daddy take care of you, hm?”

Your eyes popped wide, jaw dropped, but before you could say anything his lips were back on yours–hungry for the innocence in your stare. You felt pliant in his grip, willing to let him have his way with you, a tingling sensation following every touch. 

His fingers, rough and calloused, scratched at your skin, leaving a fleeting mark behind each of his kisses. Looping his hand under your thighs, he coaxed your legs around his waist as he carried you into the kitchen with ease. The cool marble on your skin made you gasp, fumbling for a grasp on the edge of the countertop.

Rick tugged on the hem of your shirt. “Lift those arms for me, sweetheart. Wanna see how pretty you are.”

Usually you wouldn’t be so shy, but the way he had you draped over the countertops like no one else lived here, made you curl up inside yourself. Sheepishly, you lifted your arms, the cool air nipping goosebumps onto your skin. His stubble scratched your skin, keeping you warm as his lips ventured lower, fingers diligently working to unclasp your bra. When the straps fell from your shoulders, the desire in Rick’s eyes grew, his lips parting slightly before latching onto one of your buds.

Tongue working skillfully, flicking and swirling around the bud, he made sure to carefully cup the other breast in his palm, kneading as he groaned into your skin. Stifling your moans, you desperately tried to keep quiet, soft mewls escaping your lips every now and again. Too in the moment, distracted by the softness of your skin against his and your scent filling his senses, Rick didn’t notice you were holding back until he glanced up at you–leaned back, balancing on one hand while the other was lazily draped over your mouth, trying to keep yourself silent.

Unlatching himself with a pop, he looked up at you, a dazed smile curling his lips. “Don’t be so shy now.” His hand trailed lower, claiming their mark as the tip of his finger brushed the lining of your panties. “What’d you expect to happen coming ‘round here so late…lookin’ like this?”

You whimpered in response, one hand working at the zipper on the side of your skirt, the other lifting your hips, guiding you as you wiggled out of your clothes. Left only in your underwear, you felt vulnerable, out of place, while his eyes scaled your body, mouth watering like you were the most delicious thing he’d seen in years. 

His hands gripped the side of your hips, pulling you closer to him so you could feel the growing pain beneath his sweatpants. Gasping, you leaned further into him, arms still draped over his shoulders, while you rocked steadily against him.

“All those tears over someone who can’t even treat you right.” Tilting your chin up to face him, there were tears welling in your eyes. All the pent up frustration, sadness, and hurt you had felt tonight boiling into a needy ache that only he could soothe. “Must be hurtin’ so bad, darlin’. Y’want me to take care of you?”

“Yes,” you breathed out, not caring how desperate you sounded. “Yes, please.”

“Yes, what?”

There was a moment of silence, a hesitation linked between the both of you to see if you would actually say it. Then, through fluttered lashes and a long drag of your hips against his, you whined the words he wanted to hear most.

“Yes, Daddy.”  Your fingers impatiently worked to untie his waistband. “Please, I need you so bad.”

Like a switch flipped in his mind, Rick had lost all restraint. Pulling his length from his boxers, he wasted no time pulling your underwear down your thighs, impatiently leaving them hung around one ankle. Diligently, he spread your slick around his fingers, teasingly prodding at your entrance, letting the tip of his finger glide in each time you’d whine and buck your hips towards him.

“So needy,” he tsked.

Popping his fingers into his mouth, he swirled his tongue around, wanting to savour your taste. In the other hand, he took his length, precum weeping from his tip that he teased at your entrance.

He was bigger than anyone you’d ever been with before and the size intimidated you, but also made you lick your lips with an eager temptation. Absentmindedly traced circles soothed you as you leaned back, letting Rick carry most of your weight as you looked up at him with puppy dog eyes. Sliding his tip past your folds, your walls held him in like a vice. He hissed, clenching his hands into a tight fist as he slunk his head into the crook of your neck.

“So tight,” he whined, lips trembling against your neck. “‘S’like she don’ wanna let go.”

There was a stinging pain, a tight pressure, as Rick inched his way inside, but the way his hands roamed your body–soothing you with slight, careful touches–made any discomfort simmer into a lingering pleasure.

“D-daddy,” you stuttered when he bottomed out, hips flush with yours. “‘S’too big.” Your fingers gripped tightly into hair, pulling him back into a heated kiss. 

You moaned into his mouth, wrapping your legs around his waist to keep him steady. His hips twitched, yearning for some movement, your walls pulsing around him, leaking onto him with your arousal. He needed to feel you more than just this, wanted to feel you clench around him when he hit that spot just right–hear you tell him he was the best fuck you’d ever had.

“I know, darlin’. Jus’ be good for me, I know you can take it.”

His ego took control, hips pulling all the way back before slamming all the way into you. A sharp cry left your lips, head tossing back in bliss. Although it stung, Rick was hitting parts of you that had never been touched before–a rippling wave of pleasure coursing through your body.

You lost your grip of the counter, letting your hips falter away from his as he rhythmically pounded into you. The hand that was entangled in your hair fell lower, roughly gripping your hips as he held you in place–making sure he hit deep with each stroke.

Sweat dripped from his brow, concentration set deep within the crease above his eyes–growing each time a moan escaped your lips. His lack of recent experience was failing him, already bringing him towards the edge as those pretty sounds kept leaving your lips.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he groaned, dipping low again to press needy kisses to the side of your jaw. “Want you to come f’me. Wanna feel you drench my cock.”

His filthy words made your hips roll, a gasp of pleasure rumbling its way from your throat. An added pressure of his thumb against your clit made your sight grow fuzzy and his hips didn’t stall as you began to shudder around him.

“‘M’so close,” you cried, voice raw and cracked. “Please, please, please.”

Then, through the pants and moans, a soft click of the front door echoed through the house, your head twisting towards the sound. Whether he heard it or not, Rick didn’t falter, cock still pounding in and out, the sounds of your slick audible over it all. 

You were mostly hidden by the kitchen wall, a small rectangular cutout the only view to your faces–yours twisted in a battle of pleasure and embarrassment, Rick’s tossed over your shoulder, sucking dark spots into your skin. Still, you could see the horrified face of your ex, any lingering alcohol in his veins leaving the moment he saw you naked and moaning beneath who he could only assume was his father. Without a second glance, he retreated up the stairs, stumbling over his feet.

“Fuck, Rick,” you panted when his thrusts slowed for a moment. “What is wrong with you?”

His thumb was still tracing circles over your bud, making you shiver into him–your pleasure undeniable. “Thought that was what you wanted?” Cockiness laced every word, his thrusts slow and sure as he made your eyes roll back. “Don’t lie. You loved letting him see you feel this good.”

In spite of the embarrassment you felt creeping into your skin, you couldn’t stop the moans from tumbling off your lips. It was like he kept hitting backspace on your thoughts, not allowing you to formulate a single coherent idea until you were left stuttering and creaming on his cock.

Nodding, you couldn’t deny him–couldn’t deny how good he made you feel.

“Good girl,” he praised. “Now let him hear how good you feel.”

Before you could protest or even think otherwise, his hips snapped, picking up the pace again. Taking your face in a harsh hold, he popped his thumb between your lips, staring in awe as you swirled the digit around your tongue. Watching as you collected your own juices, he slowly pulled away before returning to his place on your clit.

That high-pitched whine was all he needed for conformation as he began to pick up his speed. He could tell you were close, the spasm of your walls around his cock were getting too much for him to handle and he had to bite down on his lip to keep himself from releasing too early.

“Fuck! ‘M’gonna come, Daddy!” you cried out, back arching and hips lifting off the table, Rick kept you steady as you rode out your high. 

His thrust grew sloppy, stuttering out shaky breaths as he grew closer to his release. When he pulled out, hand gripping his length and head thrown back in pleasure, you took it upon yourself to lower yourself onto your knees in front of him. Taking his wrist in yours, you were careful to replace his hand with your own, guiding his tip into your mouth and stroking the rest with your hand. 

The look on his face was nothing less than surprised, his jaw slack as you worked your tongue around his length. It didn’t take long for him to finish in your mouth, hot ropes shooting down your throat as you licked your lips in satisfaction.

“So sweet,” you grinned, looking up at him with a half-lidded gaze.

Chest heaving, trying to regain his breath, Rick pulled you to your feet, immediately placing his lips on yours.

“Fuck,” he breathed, lips still brushed agasint yours. “Prettiest damn thing I’ve ever seen. He don’t deserve someone as perfect as you.” Mumbling, he began peppering your neck with soft kisses before lifting you back up on the counter.

Curling your legs to your chest, you sat on the counter while he roamed through a nearby closet. Even with his shirt still on, you could see the way his muscles flexed beneath his shirt as he reached up to the top shelf. Running it under warm water, he placed the towel he grabbed gently to the inside of your thigh, letting the silence speak for itself in this moment.

Once he was done, he handed you your clothes before putting back on his own. “I’ll go upstairs to get the keys to the car.” He was solemn, unwilling to let this moment go as he rounded the corner, stopping at the end of the staircase. “Carl comes back home tomorrow. If y’wanted to stay n’say hello.”

It was so strange, seeing the man so confidently pulling the strings a moment ago, back to the reserved man you always knew Rick Grimes to be.

You smiled, hopping off the counter. “I think I’d like that.”

a special thanks to my taglist ♡ @death-in-a-tar0t-card  (message me to be added or removed)

[tinytownn]

moonshine crimes –

rick grimes x f!reader

word count: 14.6k

summary: based on this request...

content: 18+ [SMUT WARNING!!!], technically cheating (lori's chill w it tho), pet names like doll and darlin', car sexxxx, lotsss of yearning/very slow burn, alcohol consumption (don't drink and drive yall), implied age gap, protective daryl !!

a/n: hopefully this makes up for no joel fic this week lolol,,,this got a little outta hand. thank you for @kitty-grimes for beta reading this and getting me obsessed w/ rick even more than i alr was lmaoooo

leave all requests here…

A cool breeze bit through the summer heat, nipping at your arms. The sun was relentless. Sweat dripped down your forehead, your neck, arms—anywhere the sun could reach its rays. 

Some of the group had gone out for supplies. Only a few of you were left to guard the camp now, promises of food, water, and medicine kept you hopeful while you drowned in the humidity. Sifting through the heat, you hoped Glenn remembered your request for sunscreen—your shoulders already began to peel and blister—a near hyperthermic sluggishness to your movements.

Even if he didn’t, as long as everyone came back safe, you would’ve been content with whatever they brought home.

Home. 

It was funny you thought of it like that.

With the people you stayed around, there never was just one place to call home. Shane, the group’s self-proclaimed leader, kept the team wandering, always on the move. It was the only way of survival now, but it never stopped feeling like you lost a piece of yourself at each stop. The days blurred together, exhaustion wore thin as supplies dwindled and the trek just kept getting longer.

When the end of the world had struck, your mind went blank. Nothing had ever prepared you for this moment, there was no rulebook to follow. If you couldn’t figure this out on your own, there was only one thing you knew you could do: Find a group.

Stuck in piled up traffic along the highway, you became friends with the nearby drivers, striking up conversation when things started to sound more serious than just a car wreck. Carol and Lori were the first two by your side, idly chatting about what could’ve caused this traffic. Then, when things got more serious—drivers started attacking each other, gunshots in the distance—you all agreed to stick together. 

Shane came along with Lori, practically inseparable with how protective he was of her and Carl. He was possessive, not only when it came to his family, but the group as well. Although no one outright said it, Shane was what you all needed to get through this. It always felt like he knew more than he gave off though—that he had secrets he’d never let go—but he was Lori’s husband and you didn’t want to overstep.

Or at least you thought he was.

A few weeks into forming a real group—one supported by vehicles, supplies, and a real chance at survival—Lori had mentioned her actual husband.

“He was a real good father– husband too.” She turned her head to look around then, “Always looked out for me and Carl. I’m sure he would know what to do right now…”

The confession had taken you by surprise. It was one of the few times you had truly been alone with Lori—no Carl, Shane, or Carol listening in. It was a brief encounter, one entirely by chance, but it stuck with you for a while.

You had gone out in the middle of the night for a breath of fresh air. It was a full moon that night and you hoped the clouds parted just enough to let you catch a glimpse. When you peeked through the opening of your tent though, you saw a figure, hunched over and quivering over the smothered campfire.

Pulling a knife from the back pocket of your jeans, you planted quiet, careful steps towards the logs. Blade held at your side, nervously anticipating your next move, you quickly realized that this wasn’t a walker, nor was it a raider—it was Lori, crying in the dark.

That night you got closer to Lori than you had ever been with anyone since the outbreak. She wept to you about her late husband, how he was in a coma when the world turned to shit. How Shane—her saviour—went back for him, but was too late.

You couldn’t imagine the pain she was going through—the pain she had to mask for the sake of her son. She had clearly leaned heavily on Shane, even before everything, he was her rock. The two were so close that you thought they had been together for far longer than this. They just seemed so in love.

From then on, you watched the dynamic closely. How Carl slowly attached himself to Shane and how Lori lovingly watched from afar. Even in the mess of everything, they still managed to pick back up the pieces of their shattered family. It was something you admired, how she could look past her grief to make a better life for her son—for herself.

That hot, summer day was no different. 

Most of the group idled around, waiting for the results of the supply run as if it were any other day. Carl and Shane were out by the lake, catching fish. Lori and Carol bathed in the shade, hunched over the wash bin. Dale was taking watch up on the RV, looking for the rest of the group who was supposed to be back long before now.

“Merle said he was gon’ be back here before sunset ‘n by the looks of it, the sun is fuckin’ settin’.”

Daryl was growing restless now, driving the rest of the group mad while his brother was out on a run. He was pacing back and forth in front of you, his hand clawing at his scalp, tugging at the roots of his hair.

“You know what can happen on these runs,” you said, leaned back against the RV, your arms crossed. “They probably just had to take another way home. Glenn’s good with directions, I’m sure they’ll be back soon.”

To be honest, you weren’t sure of anything, but if it got the younger Dixon to stop pestering you, then a little white lie couldn't hurt.

“Y’ain’t sure of shit!” He yelled, throwing a punch at the old, rusted metal of the motorhome.

“Don’t dent my RV!” Dale shouted from above. “I better not see a scratch on her when I get down there!”

Rolling his eyes, Daryl took a few steps back to get a good look at the man posted on the roof. Laid back in his lawn chair, Dale had a gun sprawled in his lap, binoculars pointed right down at you two.

“This old thing? S’got more scratches than I can count.”

“How many is that—ten?” you quipped, a sly smile creeping on your face.

Daryl sneered, his footsteps clouding up dust until he was right in your face. “I ain’t messin’ ‘round right now, little princess.” He spat, so close you could smell his breath. “You’re sittin’ around while my brother s’out there takin’ care of the useless group y’all sent out with him.”

“Useless?” Standing up now, you shoved Daryl’s chest, sending him stumbling back a couple feet. “You should be grateful we even took your-”

“Quit arguing, you two!” Dale hissed. “I see a truck coming up the hill.”

Grumbling, Daryl pulled his bow from around his shoulders, getting himself into a good position. 

“You better hope this s’my brother.”

Shoving him further behind the RV, you pulled out your gun. “Or what, Daryl?”

The soft gnashing of gravel grew closer, a faint scent of gasoline filling your senses. Through the clearing, you could see a box van coming up the mountain. It looked harmless so far, no raiders peeking out the windows with guns, waiting to rob your camp. Pulling to a stop just shy of the RV, you could see through the windshield—it was Glenn in the driver's seat.

A crowd started to form as the other members of the groups noticed the arrival. Everyone was cautious when the stranger tumbled out of the truck, people were almost worse than walkers nowadays.

Shane was quick to make his way to the front, especially when he noticed the familiar face next to Glenn. He looked astonished, pale almost, at the sight of the officer.

“Rick?”

Whipping your head back, Lori clutched onto her son, quivering in fear like she was seeing a ghost. To her, she really was. You had only heard that name once from Lori’s lips—that night you comforted her outside of the camp—it was the name of her supposedly deceased husband. But here he was, alive and breathing, spinning Carl around in his arms.

===

Rick had become an integral part of the group, almost succeeding Shane in his leadership position. Things were taking a turn for the better, having two strong minds working together instead of Shane’s impulsive drive leading the group to disaster.

Although Carl was grateful to have his father back, things between him and Shane didn’t falter. Things with Lori, however, took a drastic turn. Like night and day, her feelings for Shane seemed to fade. 

Following her husband into the tent that first night, she never looked back, but you could tell the pain it caused her—the agony it caused Shane.

Unknowingly, you became trapped in the triangle too.

Never would you have done it on purpose, but the longer Rick weaved his way into the group, the more your feelings grew for him. It started off slight, his looks catching you off guard the moment you saw him. He was attractive, a thought that hadn’t crossed your mind about any man since the world went to shit. 

But the moment you realized he wasn’t yours for the taking—and never would be—you rid that thought from your mind.

Then you saw Lori with Shane again.

They seemed to be arguing at first, Lori’s hands up in the air until they curled into his hair, tugging at the roots. Then, Shane pulled her in by the waist, slamming his lips onto hers. For a moment, she went stiff, debating the consequences of her actions until she went limp, falling into his touch.

You stopped looking after that. Anything more and it would have felt like an obligation to tell Rick though you had barely known him. He just looked so happy to find his family again—god knows how long he was searching, the things he had done to get here.

From that moment on, you began to unknowingly attach yourself to the man. Whether it was pity, some sort of guilt, or a hidden attraction—you’d never know—but something had you and the officer tied to the hip. You tagged behind him on supply runs and perimeter checks, helped out with chores—basically became his second shadow.

He obviously took notice, so did the others in the group, but just like with Shane and Lori, they kept their lips sealed. Everyone knew better than to press, had more important things to focus on than a messy love triangle. It’d all blow over eventually.

You found yourself with Rick and Daryl, doing a perimeter check of the farm. The entire group was still very wary of the new location, but with a working agreement between Hershel and Rick, tensions seemed to be lessening.

“Ya keep walkin’ so close t’tha fence ‘n yer gon’ get zapped.” Daryl said teasingly, his boots dragging in the dirt.

“Maybe I’ll take you down with me,” you quipped.

Things between you and Daryl wouldn’t seem to have changed just listening in, but the way you spoke to each other now was softer—more joking rather than harsh jabs. It took a while, and a lot of convincing from Carol, but you finally came around to him.

Rick chuckled, shaking his head as he marked another weak spot onto his map.

“If Carl ever had a sister,” Rick turned his head to look at you, “I imagine this s’exactly what it’d be like, you two argue like children.”

“Yet you still bring us with you.” Scrunching your nose, you took the map from Rick’s hands. “Maybe if you gave us something interesting to do we wouldn’t have time to argue.”

“Alright then,” Rick took a moment before speaking, like he suddenly regretted saying anything in the first place. “Come with me on a run tomorrow. Goin’ to check out the next town over. S’that interestin’ enough for ya?”

You expected Daryl to chime in, complain about how he wasn’t invited or how he ‘didn’t even wanna come anyway.’ That never came though and the three of you just sat in a passing silence. The two men shared some sort of knowing glance, awaiting your response.

“Yeah.” Shrugging, you looked back at Daryl. “Yeah, I don’t see why not. Are you not coming, Daryl?”

He opened his mouth to say something, eyes nervously flicking to Rick before he stuttered out, “N-nah, I’m busy t’morrow.”

“Busy, got it.” You laughed, unconvinced. “Sounds fun.”

The rest of the search fell in a deep silence that you couldn’t seem to wade out of. Drowning in the tension, you waited for it to flood over and find a moment to breathe before you thought too hard about it.

Both men were painfully silent, sharing secret glances like they were having a whole conversation with just their eyes. It made you feel small, suddenly self-conscious around these people you had spent every day around.

When you got back to camp, you were quick to part from them, ready to shed the uncomfortability that grew on your skin. Before you could get back to your tent though, a familiar voice called out your name.

“Tomorrow morning, remember?” Rick called out from across camp. 

A few heads turned at the interaction, including an inquisitive Lori whose eyes flicked between the two of you, and the moment felt unnecessarily vulnerable—like this was something you were caught doing.

Nodding your head, you flashed a thumbs up before dipping into your tent for the rest of the night.

You didn’t know why things felt so tense all of the sudden. You and Rick had never been alone like this before. Daryl or Glenn typically tagged along, keeping you company as you babbled along, allowing Rick to complete the task at hand. It was always through the playful banter of your groupmates that you spoke to Rick—just teasing jokes and mindless chatter about the weather.

Everyone in the camp—except you—noticed the way you looked at Rick. How each time he turned a corner, a smile appeared on your face and your back would straighten just to get that much closer to him. It was all subtle, just your body trying to get your brain to catch up on how badly you had fallen for the man. That idea was strictly forbidden though—not even something that crossed your mind in the slightest. He was Lori's husband.

Though, you had noticed them sleeping in separate tents lately. During the day, they played up the role of a happy couple, but at night they were nowhere near each other, and occasionally, you’d hear Lori slip off with Shane deep into the night.

You liked to think that Rick could see through them. That he was smarter than his heart would let him and realize what was going on between his wife and best friend. If he did know, he did a damn good job at pretending not to care.

Unbeknownst to you, Rick did know—and he didn’t care. 

Blindly enamoured with his wife, Rick did anything in his power to find his family when he first woke up in that hospital. Stumbling upon this group was unknowingly the worst thing to ever happen to him as the weeks unfolded. A prickling feeling that something was just out of reach followed him everywhere. Some deep sense of dread followed him for days until he finally saw it.

Shane and Lori—his best friend and his wife—holding hands beneath a tree, having some sort of serious conversation. He wanted to wait and watch, find some more incriminating evidence than just hand holding, but he felt sick to his stomach at just the thought. Resentment was quick to grow towards the both of them, a rekindling of feelings inadvertently growing towards someone else.

In his time at the camp, Rick found himself gravitating towards you. Unlike the others, you didn’t seem to get caught up in all the fighting, choosing to keep close to Daryl and Carol. You were always a fresh breeze after a long day of putting up a front with Lori, saving face for Carl’s sake, and secretly wishing he was with you the entire time.

A large part of him felt guilty for his feelings. He tried his best to push them away and ignore them until he just couldn’t anymore. That was when he started assigning you to the same tasks as him, but always with another person to accompany you. It just didn’t feel right to him, the way he wanted to look at you, the things he wanted to say—to confess.

It was all too much for him that he’d bring Daryl along almost as a chaperone. He wasn’t too scared to talk to you—like Rick was—and could coax an easy laugh from your lips. The sound was heavenly to him, bathing in your voice as he walked around doing different chores, the time flew by with you chatting behind him.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t jealous of your relationship with Daryl. The two of you had gotten close so quickly after being sworn enemies that he wished he could make conversation just as easy.

 Of course he talked to you—always so interested in what he had to say—but that was the problem. You’d look up at him with those eyes, arms across your chest and your head tilted with a soft pout. He just couldn’t keep himself together when you looked at him like that.

And he knew it was wrong. He was married—still had the ring around his finger to prove it. So why did he invite you on a run tomorrow?

When Daryl pulled him aside after he had called out for you at camp, he still couldn’t answer that question.

“The hell y’doin’?” He said roughly, dragging Rick away from the crowd—away from the timorous eyes of Lori. “Thought we weren’t doin’ this?”

“Doin’ what?” Rick said dumbly.

His eyes flicked back over to his wife for a moment and a feeling of guilt panged his chest.

“You know exactly what—you’re married.” Daryl was seething, words barely audible with how he gritted his teeth. 

He was never one to press someone's morals, but this was Rick, the one person he knew to be noble and loyal. Without Rick to stand behind, he would have no one—the group would have no one—it’d only be a matter of time for things to crumble if he didn’t keep his head straight on his shoulders.

“We’re goin’ out for a run.” Rick crossed his arms, ready to walk away from the conversation. “S’not like we’re gettin’ eloped.”

“Bet you’d love that.”

“Well the plan’s already been made, so there’s no goin’ back.” Fumbling out a poor excuse, Rick stalked back towards the camp, catching a brief glimpse of Lori’s face before heading into his tent.

It was hard to gauge what she thought, nothing in her gaze besides a silent, defeated observation. Some part of Rick told himself that she deserved it after lying to him for so long, but another part of him—the part he liked to think was the real him—was disgusted he could brush off his wife’s emotions so easily. 

Rick tossed and turned through the night. When the sun finally rose, he wasted no time unzipping his tent. Though his lids were still heavy, his body exhausted, a rapid, thrumming heartbeat thrashed in his chest.

He really did need to go on this run, but was it too late to just go by himself? Maybe you’d wake up, grateful he had gone and left you the day to relax. 

The longer he stalled, the more he was starting to think Daryl was right.

He was married. So what was he doing going out alone with the only woman who made his heart race and his cheeks flush—a woman who wasn’t his wife.

Biting the skin on his fingers, Rick tore his knuckles raw, the skin puffy and bleeding. He was so caught up in his own mind, that he didn’t notice you had already woken up.

“You ready?” Beaming up at him with a warm mug in your hands, your breath frosted a little in the chill morning air.

It was barely light outside, no sight of the sun peeked above the horizon just yet. The rest of the group were tucked away in their tents, chasing warmth in their sleeping bags. That left just you and Rick alone in the middle of camp.

Suddenly his mouth felt dry, his throat closing in on itself.

Just one offhanded comment about going for a run and you were up bright and early with a smile on your face just for him. He couldn’t stop thinking about it—how happy you seemed to be here with him. There were none of those fake eye rolls or witty jokes you threw at Daryl. This was a side of you he rarely saw, a slightly less bubbly, but softer side. He felt special getting to see you like this, wanted to reserve this view for himself and no one else.

A quiet yawn left your lips and curled into a lazy grin. Tiredly, you rubbed the sleep from your eyes, looking to Rick for the next direction.

His lips parted, tongue jutting out to wet them—anything to get another moment of you like this. “Yeah, truck’s all warmed up. You got everythin’?”

“Mhmm,” Motioning to the bag slung over your shoulder, you nodded sleepily. “Gun, knife, water, and some food. I even brought a surprise in case the ride gets too boring.”

Rick couldn’t stop the smile that formed on his face. “A surprise, huh? Might have to drive extra slow then.”

Starting towards the truck, the engine rumbled gently, the lights flicked off to not wake the rest of the camp. It was nice just being able to talk with Rick for once. Your time together always felt sort of disconnected, or maybe it was just the boundary you had put up for yourself to not get too attached.

Rick's arm reached around you, pulling open the passenger door. His fingertips ever so slightly grazed your back, guiding you in the cab, stalling for a moment too long before shutting the door.

While he rounded the truck, the pieces of the puzzle—the one you had been trying to fit together ever since he invited you out here—started to fall into place. 

You couldn’t sit still. Now that he had touched your skin, it felt like you were on fire. Since you met, you had always thought your feelings towards Rick were purely physical. That the presence of a man this attractive was uncommon nowadays and the way your mind wandered was just a product of that.

The guilt seeped in, making you want to hop out of the truck and crawl back in your tent like none of this had ever happened. The way he spoke to you—his words finally meant for just you, his eyes focused on yours—made your body electric, practically buzzing in your seat. 

This was no small crush like you had thought. Over these past few months, you were falling in love with Rick Grimes—the husband of one of your closest friends.

You had thought it was just a coincidence that you and Lori had grown apart when Rick arrived. Figured she was preoccupied with the shock and patching things up with Shane. But maybe, just maybe, she saw what you couldn't see. 

Maybe Lori saw the way you looked at Rick like he hung the moon. The way you followed him around like a dog, obedient to his every word. What really had Lori’s eyes following you two that day though, was the way Rick looked. She knew that look anywhere because it was the same look he used to give to her.

That sappy, lovesick look that used to be solely reserved for her was now directed towards another woman—and Lori couldn't help but feel relieved? She was at a crossroads, having to take her place beside her husband, knowing her heart truly resided with Shane. It was a choice she didn’t want to admit was difficult to make, but seeing that maybe her husband felt the same gave her some hope.

Rick hadn’t lied when he said the ride would be slow. It started out with him telling you to get some rest and to ‘save up some of that energy for the interesting part.’ Little did you know, he just wanted to get a good look at you, up close, without anyone else watching, and not be too nervous to look you in the eye.

When you had finally dozed off, he brushed the loose hair from your face, watching the way your lips pouted out and the soft snores that left them. He drove extra slow as promised, but not for anything other than to make sure you didn’t wake up. Avoiding any potholes or branches in the road, he opted for the smoothest route possible.

He never would’ve admitted it to his face, but Daryl was right. The longer he was alone with you, the more his mind spiraled. Guilt was eating him alive even though he hadn’t done anything. The simple fact that he felt something was enough to crush him. The weight of his feelings were enough to drag him into a pit for the rest of the drive until you woke up.

Groaning, you squinted your eyes to adjust to the sun now peeking in through the glass. The truck seat was more comfortable than any place you had slept in months and the rhythmic rumbling of the tires was enough to lull you to sleep. A yawn escaped your lips, absentmindedly flipping in your spot until your gaze fell on Rick in the driver’s seat.

“Good mornin’, sunshine,” he rasped, eyes focused on the road.

“Shit,” you cursed, sitting up in your seat. “I didn’t mean to sleep that long. We almost there?”

“Told ya to get some rest, y’know I don’t mind.” Rick said, flashing you a smile. “Town should be right up ahead—right on schedule.”

Abandoned cars littered the roads and Rick tried his best to maneuver around them, but when he got to a certain cluster, there was no way out. You didn’t say anything, wanting to let him concentrate. A frustrated grumble left his lips, head peeking over his shoulder as he started to reverse.

“M’leavin’ the car here, there’s no way ‘round.” Slamming his palm onto the wheel, he set the truck into park. “I can see buildings right through the clearing. It should be close enough to bring stuff back.”

Nodding, you followed Rick’s lead. The sun was up now, just barely peeking through the clouds to pick up the morning dew that tickled your ankles. You both walked a few feet from each other, eyes focused on the couple of buildings ahead.

The walk was quieter than you had expected. You wanted to throw in some joke, one of those witty remarks that always came so easy when Daryl was around. Things felt so fragile now that you were alone, like all the things simmering just below the surface were starting to rise and the both of you could feel it bubbling over.

“I’ve been uh.” You stared at the ground, kicking a stone ahead of you and repeating the process all over again a couple feet ahead. “I’ve been talking to the Greenes a little more since we got here. They’re really nice people, especially Maggie—looks like her and Gleen have been hitting it off too.”

That last part made the both of you chuckle, the entire group letting Glenn awkwardly shuffle his way over to Maggie each day, trying to make a good impression. It was a noble attempt and Maggie seemed just as into him to relay the nervousness right back his way.

Rick laughed, running a hand over his jaw. “I remember bein’ like that—makes me miss bein’ young.” He said, his feelings more recent than he was admitting to.

In all honesty, Rick did miss being that young, nostalgic over the freedom he once had. Maybe if he was a little younger he wouldn’t feel the guilt that tore him apart each time he looked at you. If he was younger then maybe he would feel like he had a sliver of a chance with you. 

“You’re not that old,” you giggled.

“Thanks,” he laughed dryly. “Sounded real convincin’.” 

Rick looked over to you, not expecting you to be looking right back. He sucked in a sharp breath. Time felt frozen, like he was stuck here, body paralyzed by the force of you. 

“I mean it,” you said, a little more serious this time. “I know the world has gone to shit, but we have the whole world to make something of ourselves, to do whatever we want.”

He smiled to himself.

‘We’

The way you spoke like you were a unit, two pieces of the same puzzle. He knew you probably didn’t mean it that way, but his heart couldn’t help but hope that somewhere deep down you maybe felt the same.

When he didn’t answer, you took it upon yourself to fill the gap. “The world clearly favors you, Rick.” Your tone started off more lighthearted, but shifted into something more serious, weighing down the air just slightly. “After everything you still made it back to your family, your best friend, still alive. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, but you’re handling it a hell of a lot better than the rest of us.”

“You’ve got to,” he words were rushed, intense, with a fierce gaze that locked your eyes. “The only way Carl stays strong is if I’m strong for him.”

You noticed how he only mentioned Carl. Trying not to think too deep into it, you glanced over to the town right ahead of you now. There were a few walkers that roamed the streets and with how rummaged through the entire town looked, the risks seemed to outweigh any possible benefits.

“Just don’t wear yourself out.” Turning back to Rick, you gave him one last small smile before pulling a weapon from your bag. “Let people help you every once in a while.”

“I brought you here with me, didn’t I?” 

That statement felt more charged than he probably meant it. A heat flushed your cheeks and you refocused back on the threat ahead of you.

“Let’s get in there then.”

The crowd ended up being more than you could handle. What just seemed like a few walkers aimlessly roaming in the streets ended up being a whole horde. Even just the sound of your knives and heavy panting drew a flood of undead from out the alleyways. They seemed to be coming from every direction, crawling out of abandoned cars, old buildings and shops. There was no escape, having to result in your guns, you hoped that some nearby group would hear and come to help. As unlikely as that was, it seemed even more unlikely that you both were making it out of here alive.

Pulling the trigger, the empty chamber rang out in the air. Panic filled your body and you reached into your empty pocket as a last resort.

“Rick!” you yelled out into the crowd.

No answer.

Ducking past a few reaching limbs, you weaved through the crowd trying to find Rick. Heartbeat thrumming in your ears, the monotonous groaning was drowned out and your vision blurred at the edges.

Everything was blurry the longer the adrenaline coursed through your veins. It was a strong, heavy, and unwelcoming feeling that made you disoriented and wobbly. You hadn’t realized you lost Rick, let alone where. Now that you were separated, you had no way into the truck, no way home, and no way out of here alive.

There were no more gunshots ringing out and the mass of walkers drowned out any sounds Rick could make to call out for you. It felt hopeless and for a moment you just wanted to accept that you would die here. Your feet couldn’t carry you for much longer and even if you could outrun the crowd, where were you to go after that?

Then, an arm curled around your waist, pulling you away from the store you were about to hide in and carried you back towards the crowd. You didn’t think, just acted as you tried to claw the fingers from around your hips. Thrashing, you fought the body dragging you closer to the danger, thinking you were surely done for.

“Quit it.” A voice, low and rough, hissed out. “It’s jus’ me. I’m gettin’ us the hell outta here.”

Your brain slowly started to catch up, allowing your feet to drop to the ground and run alongside Rick rather than have him drag you along. He blew through the crowd, using a combination of his knife and the barrel of his gun to strike down the crowd. Trying to help out where you could, you took down a few walkers, fishing through the back pocket of Rick’s denim when you saw the truck in the distance.

“Here!” Running up beside him, you made a quick exchange of the keys and his gun, slipping the weapon into your bag.

It felt like your lungs were on fire and your heart would just pop out of your chest if you didn’t stop, but it was too close to give up. Reaching the vehicle, you tossed open the door, throwing yourself inside before locking the door shut.

The two of you sat in a heavy silence, letting the fastest of the walkers bang on the glass while the rest staggered behind. Your chests heaved, slumped in your respective seats, trying to comprehend how this all went so terribly.

Then, as the crowd started to thicken, Rick put the truck in reverse, ignoring all the thumps beneath the tires. Leaving the road, he merged onto the empty highway, biting the skin on his fingers.

Never had a run turn so quickly on him and of course it happened to be the one time you were with him—the time he was supposed to keep you safe. The crowd has just appeared out of nowhere without any shot being fired, there was almost nothing you two could've done differently.

“M’sorry,” Rick whispered finally. “I should’ve never brought you out here. It was dangerous ‘n I shouldn't be puttin’ your life at risk like that.”

His voice was low and even, almost monotonous. He was clearly scolding himself. After everything with Carl, Rick had been a lot more harsh on himself—questioning whether he could lead this group like everyone thought he could—only to drag you straight into danger.

And for what—a moment alone with you?

Shaking your head, you propped your legs up on the dash. “Are you kidding me? I asked for something interesting and you delivered. I haven’t felt this alive in months.”

“Yeah?” Rick quirked a brow in your direction. “M’glad you had fun. I feel like I’m ‘boutta drop dead from a heart attack.”

You laughed. A real, belly laugh. One that Rick had always heard, but never been on the receiving end of—at least not as often as he’d liked to.

“Well,” a sly smirk curled your lips, arms digging in the bottom of your bag, “if that didn’t take too much out of you…” Pulling out a sealed mason jar from the pack, you held it next to your head. “Here’s that surprise I was talking about.”

Rick flicked his attention from the road for a moment, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

“Which would be…?”

“Some moonshine I stole from that bastard Merle after you left his sorry ass up on that roof.”

He cringed at the memory. 

As much as Daryl had claimed to have forgotten about it, the thought of leaving that man—as terrible as he was—up on that roof, haunted Rick almost every night. Though you clearly didn’t seem to mind, almost relieved the older Dixon was gone.

“And what’re we doin’ with that?” Laughing, he couldn’t believe the idea you were proposing—nevertheless with him. 

“Drinking it, duh.”

He had never seen you anything more than tipsily chatting with Daryl over the fire. Now here you were, proposing he get drunk with you. Not only did the idea seem dangerous, out here just a few miles away from a marauding horde of walkers, but he wasn’t sure he could trust himself around you. He was a grown man, could surely control his body, but his mind was different—the things he might blurt out.

“C’mon,” you whined when he only bit his lip, staring out onto the road. “We have nothing but ourselves and this truck to look after. No one is expecting us until later tonight, might as well use up the day to its full potential.”

This was a bad idea. 

The temptation Rick felt told him how much he probably shouldn't have been doing this. If it were anyone else he’d immediately object, probably even confiscate the bottle, but this was you. Looking at him so eagerly, he couldn’t find it within himself to say no. He loved that yearning look in your eyes, the one that told him you really did want to be spending your time with him.

Wordlessly, he pulled the truck onto the side of the road.

“A few sips—but that’s all. I mean it.”

Already unscrewing the lid, you flicked it back at him, letting the metal hit his shoulder. Lifting the glass to your lips, your face soured, the smell immediately filling your senses. It was strong, pungent, and although it had been years since your last hangover, the feeling hit you like a truck.

“God,” you cringed, pulling your head back, “this smells awful. First sip is all yours.”

Shaking his head, Rick ushered the jar back towards you. “Ladies first. This was your idea after all.”

He seemed more relaxed than earlier. His shoulders were more slack, his body leaning into the cushions with the belt unstrapped from his shoulders now. There was a soft mechanic rustling as he pushed the seat further back, stretching his legs, watching you fuss over the drink.

Taking the first sip was brutal. It shocked your senses, bringing you upright in the seat, jolting you awake. It tasted awful, just what you expected from a handcrafted Dixon creation, but you couldn’t deny its effects. It surely did its job, immediately working its magic with the second sip. You could feel that slight tingle deep beneath your skin that was slowly giving you the confidence alcohol always seemed to.

“Here, five sips.” Shoving the glass into his hands, you dramatically scrunched your face, words garbled by the liquid. “Beat that.”

Raising a brow, Rick cautiously lifted the jar to his nose. “M’surprised you didn’t puke on the first sip—this smells like Daryl’s feet.”

Giggling, you curled your legs into the seat, leaning over the center console. “You know what Daryl’s feet smell like?”

Nodding, Rick gulped down a generous sip before handing back the glass. “Can’t miss it. He avoids showerin’ like the damn plague.”

“Maybe it’s a good thing he didn’t come with us.”

Then, taking another sip from the jar, you could feel your mind numbing. The questions you had always wanted to ask, the things you always wanted to say, didn’t seem as daunting anymore.

“Why didn’t you invite him?” you asked suddenly.

The question caught Rick off guard, snatching the glass from your hands to stall his answer.

“Needed someone to watch the camp,” he breathed out, the remnants of the moonshine glistening his lips.

“You don’t trust Shane?”

Questions were coming in quick now, not giving him a moment to breathe. The glass kept getting passed between the two of you, mainly ushered by Rick each time he felt too overwhelmed by one of your questions or intense stares—anything to buy him just a moment.

He drew his lips tight, the skin paling slightly. “Shane’s always been…” Taking another sip he took a moment to control himself, or maybe find the courage to say what he truly felt. “Impulsive. Don’t know if I can trust him in an emergency.” Then his last words were hot on his tongue, spitting out fire with every syllable. “Not with my son there.”

Nodding, you curled into yourself, knowing you tugged a thread too loose, letting his emotions unravel. Rick had always been so levelheaded that this was foreign. Sure, he had a lot on his shoulders—the stress was always evident—you had never seen him this unguarded though. He was letting it all out now. Finally bringing you into the space he always bridged so far with his silence. Letting Daryl typically fill the gap, Rick was able to feel close to you for so long without having to actually let you in. Now that the alcohol was talking, his true feelings began to spill over the edge and there was no turning back now.

You kept your mouth shut. Your feelings about Shane had always been the same, and it was hard to gauge if your hatred stemmed from the same place. You knew the things Shane was doing outside of his role as the group’s leader. There was so much you wanted to tell Rick, but it didn’t feel like the time—it never did—just seemed like something that would unnecessarily crush him.

“I agree with you,” Was all you said, letting the cab simmer in whatever this was.

“You see it too, right?”

Your heart stopped, stuttering a few times to catch back up—Could he know?

His words were vague, but deep down you knew what he meant. Feigning ignorance, you pressed your lips thin, lowering your gaze to the floor.

“See what?”

Scoffing, he shook his head, fists rocking against the wheel. “Y’don’t think I notice the way everyone looks at me? Y’think I don’t know my best friend is fuckin’ my wife?”

The words came out so even, so calm, that it frightened you more than any outburst could've. It was like he had rehearsed this. Like the anger bubbled within him for so long he had replayed this conversation in his mind more times than he could count. Instead of confronting them though, he was with you—vulnerable, voice raw and shaking.

“I-’

You didn’t know what to say.

“I’ve convinced myself not to believe it for long enough.” About half the glass was gone now, still switching between the two of you. “I can’t ignore it like it’s not happenin’ right in front of my face.”

Jaw slack, you didn’t know how to react. You and Daryl had spent countless hours on the topic, weighing the options between you, ultimately deciding it was better for Rick—and the group—to keep this a secret. Knowing he was aware the entire time made you wonder how he could keep it together for so long.

“I’m sorry we never said anything- that I never said anything…” Drawing a blank, your mind clouded—fuzzy from the alcohol but also from how broken Rick looked in front of you.

His head was heavy, eyes focused on his lap so intently that you were waiting to see smoke from the hole he had burned through the seat. Never had he been this vulnerable with you. Things with Rick were always surface level, light hearted conversation that left you in a lovesick daze. Now, this was just as real as your feelings for him, and once again you just wanted to tuck it all away and let this hot feeling of awkward shame leave your shoulders.

“That ain’t your job, darlin’.”

The nickname slipped off his tongue smoothly and although he had never used such a term of endearment towards you, it almost felt natural leaving his lips. Still, you felt the heat of it on your cheeks, starting to spread lower as the alcohol took its hold.

Nodding, you bit the skin on your lips, debating how to diffuse this tension. 

You both looked out onto the empty road, letting the silence clear your minds. For the first time tonight, you wished it wasn’t just the two of you here. That Daryl or somebody was here to relieve the tension, chime in and save the day whenever your feelings for Rick had your head too clouded.

“Yeah, but I still mean it, I really am sorry,” you said anyway, deciding speaking what was on your mind was better than nothing at all. “It’s not right. You woke up in the hospital, came all the way back here, just for her to act like she’s the one making the difficult decisions? I don’t get how you’re not furious, how you can just pretend everything is fine-”

The alcohol had you rambling now, a slight slur in your words the faster you spoke, your hands flailing around.

“It’s because I’m not pretendin’, sweetheart.” 

He cut you off politely, a deep, gravelly chuckle leaving his lips. There was a subtle blush on his cheeks, the alcohol affecting him too. Surely not as much as you, but it did guide the truth out easier, letting him get closer to you than he ever thought he could.

“What?” you gawked, dumbfounded.

Shaking his head, he smiled softly. It wasn’t a genuine smile, just one of those placeholders that said something like ‘ya caught me’ or a sarcastic ‘surprise!’ 

“S’not worth stressin’ over.” Raking his hands through his hair, he tried to distract you from just how misty eyed he was getting. “Can’t change what’s happened ‘n I’ve got more important things to focus on.”

“Cheers to that,” you nodded, handing him back the jar, “but you can’t just ignore it forever, Rick. You don’t know what that would do to you.”

Though you desperately wanted to lift the mood, you couldn’t help but express your concerns for the man. You knew first-hand the toll it took looking on from the sidelines. When Rick first got here, you experienced it everyday, watching him go off with Lori while your feelings got stronger and stronger. Even now, with the alcohol coursing through your veins, you don’t think you could ever form the words to tell him. This felt like the perfect opportunity with him so disconnected from his wife—but would that make you just as deceitful at her?

“Y’don’t gotta worry ‘bout that.” He leaned back in his seat now, seemingly more relaxed. Turning his head to you, he had a lazy smirk splayed on his lips, body caving into the exhaustion you both felt. “Been through a lot of heartbreak in this life. This surely ain’t the worst of ‘em.”

“Really?” Turning to him, fully intrigued, you leaned further over the console. “Thought you would’ve been the one breaking hearts,” you joked playfully.

Scoffing, Rick reminisced for a moment. “Then y’got the wrong image of me, darlin’. Wasn’t no athlete or anythin’ back then. Jus’ barely enough sense to get me outta highschool.”

“Sounds like you’ve changed a lot since then.”

“Glad to know ya think of me that way, doll.”

You both just stared at one another, the remnants of the past half hour swirling around both of your minds. It was strange for Rick to be this vulnerable, but with you it didn’t feel so bad. You wished you could’ve said more, found the words through the haziness of your mind and say something to truly heal the broken man in front of you. You just didn’t expect him to be so open with you. How much he didn’t care. It all caught you so off guard that anything you might’ve rehearsed in your head flew out the window.

His words were sharp talking about the situation, but any time he led back to you he always softened his words. Those nicknames kept tumbling off his lips like he couldn’t stop himself, like now that he got the first one out unquestioned, it was something he was addicted to.

“I really do,” you urged, trying not to let your feelings drive your words too much. “I think what you’ve done for the group is amazing. We never would’ve found somewhere like the farm without you.”

His tongue jetted out to wet his lips before he ran a steady hand over his jaw. "You're awfully sweet, darlin’, but you shouldn’t be thankin’ me after today.”

Scrunching your eyebrows, you lightly shoved his shoulder. “God, you’re such a drunk sap, Rick. You’re really still thinking about that? Shit happens, it could’ve been anybody-”

“But it was you.”

The words tumbled out faster than he could stop them, his eyes widened, heart frozen in place. He had just dug himself a hole, and by the look you gave him, there was no getting out.

Your lips were dry, stomach churning with bad moonshine and an unnerved tension. His words weren’t making sense, all this mindless babbling he’d done tonight, it just wasn’t Rick. That didn’t mean you hadn’t liked it though. His words were the closest thing you’d had to quelling that thought in your mind that maybe your feelings were reciprocated.

Breathlessly, you tried to repress your nervousness. “And I’m fine, Rick– barely even have a scratch on me.” You huffed out a sigh. He had been beating himself up over this all day when he should’ve just been grateful to be alive, and unharmed at that. “Just be in the moment for once. Enjoy being alive.”

The curls tossed atop his head, the back of his arm coming up to wipe the alcohol that dribbled from his lips.

“Can’t do that no more, sweetheart,” he sighed, taking a moment to lean back, really take a look within himself. Whatever he’d seen must’ve been too much because he reached for the lid, tightening the old rusty cap back on tight. “Got a whole group of people relyin’ on me to keep ‘em safe, can’t be wastin’ time livin’ in the moment. Even this…” he gestured to the jar, your empty bags, “I shouldn’t be doin’ this…”

His palms splayed wide, stretching his long fingers, nervously tapping them along the steering wheel. You watched them curl around the leather, the roughness of his hands audibly scratching against the threads. It sent a wave of heat through you, your legs crossed and the cab closed in tighter.

“It’s just one drink.” That was a little bit of an understatement. “It’ll be our secret– even Daryl won’t know.” That was the truth—no matter how difficult it was going to be keeping your mouth shut around the shaggy haired man.

It wasn’t the drinks Rick cared about, or the failed supply run. He was only worried about saying the wrong thing—ruining all of this. Nothing else mattered to him in this moment except you, but that confession was also the one thing that could ruin it all.

He fumbled with the ring on his left hand, the one he found himself wearing less and less now. He didn’t know why he chose to put it on that morning. Maybe he had expected this all along—the temptation he would feel—knew he would need some reminder of why he shouldn’t be doing this.

“Thanks,” he mumbled quietly, staring into his lap.

He had ruined it.

Rick had finally been able to talk to you alone, make you laugh, and he had gone and squashed the moment while drowning in his own self-reproach.

Then, it was slight, but fingertips crept up his bicep, wrapping around his shoulder. He looked to you to make sure he wasn’t imagining it. You gave him a soft, sympathetic smile. With nothing else to offer him but your presence, you fought through the shakiness of your hands and the haze of your vision.

You were definitely drunk now. It wasn't enough to set off any alarms by the time you got back to camp, but right now, kneading the warm, solid muscle of his arms was enough to tell him your mind was a little cloudy. 

Throughout the conversation, you had migrated closer and closer to Rick until you could almost feel his breath on your skin. He was hot to the touch, the tip of his nose and cheeks a bright shade of pink, and his messy mop of curls stuck to his forehead. Closing the gap, you could even feel it radiating off onto your skin.

Rick swallowed the lump in his throat, feeling your breath that crept up the side of his neck. You were swaying, leaning on your elbows across the center console—no longer interested in what you had been talking about, the weight of it seemingly gone from your mind. 

“I think…” Fingertips trailed his skin and you watched him shudder under your touch. “You should smile more…”

Your tone caught him off guard, more sultry and suggestive than you had been all night—than you had ever been. 

He shifted, not uncomfortably, but stiffly, weighing his options of how to move further. You were obviously drunk and your out-of-character behavior was definitely a product of that. As much as he wanted to convince himself you felt the same, that these were pent up feelings finally coming out within the heat of the moment, he knew it was wrong. 

“Sweetheart,” he shuddered, shutting his eyes as if he’d wake up from a dream. “I think we should get back to camp.”

Frowning, you jutted out your bottom lip, wet and slicked from the last of the moonshine. Your pupils were dilated, no longer flickering away from his gaze but holding it, strong and steady, tempting him closer.

“M’serious, Rick,” your words were more slurred, hands trailing lower. “Don’t like seeing you like this…thought I could cheer you up today.” Crackling in your throat, your voice got less and less confident and tears started to well in your eyes. “And I just made everything worse…”

His jaw went slack, your confession taking him by surprise. This whole time, you had been skating through this conversation just the same as him, treading on thin ice, too scared to make one wrong move. Now as the alcohol boldened your moves and softened your mind, it didn’t take long for the ice to break, dragging you beneath the surface.

“Oh darlin’,” he cooed, pulling you further into his chest, letting you grip onto his shoulders. “Such a sweet little thing…y’don’t have anythin’ to worry ‘bout.”

Your limbs were crumpled in the seat behind you, awkwardly twisted so you could bury your face in the crook of his neck. He could feel the hot, sticky tears that clung to his skin, the vulnerability that sunk in with each dig of your nails. 

“What’s got ya so worked up, doll?”

He was trying to be gentle and soft to not let you see how much his heart broke at the sight of you trembling in his lap. His hands roamed your back, tracing little shapes onto the skin from over your shirt, pinching the fabric between his fingers.

“I-It’s not fair,” you hiccuped.

Your drunken state had flown through all the stages so quickly: A bashful tipsyness that led into more thoughtful conversation, letting you both speak your truth until that unavoidable sappiness bled through the cracks and had you like putty in his hands.

“You work so hard.” Your voice was muffled in his neck, fingers desperately grabbing at the curls on the back of his neck. “Why do you let everyone run over you like that?”

This caught him even more off guard, the way you cared so earnestly. The way you sobbed into his neck like this had kept you up for nights, taking his problems just as personally as you own, had him reeling.

“Shhh…breathe, darlin’, breathe.” He smoothed a hand over your hair, shushing your sobs while you hiccupped into his skin. “Y’don’t gotta worry ‘bout me. S’long as the group’s safe—as long as you’re safe—I don’t mind takin’ a few hits.”

You lifted your head, shaking it frantically, cupping Rick’s face into your hands. Squishing his cheeks in a little, he looked at you, face scrunched and lips pouted. 

“I just wanna see you happy again– like when you first got here.” Your back stiffened, trying to bite back the anger from your voice. “The way she talked about you…I-I don’t know how she could do that.”

Your words held a certain discretion to them, like even after all this you were too nervous to breach this topic. This was meant to be a good time. You had brought the moonshine in hopes of getting closer with Rick, letting the alcohol dull your senses until you were no longer too nervous to talk to him. 

Whenever you and Daryl drank, it was never like this. The two of you would have lighthearted conversation, maybe wander down to the lake and playfully splash water at one another. You didn’t realize with so much hanging on this moment, all the time you had spent stressing over making it perfect, that you’d crumble the second the liquid touched your lips. Alcohol clung to your insecurities, peeling back the layers until that was all you could see.

The apples of his cheeks pinched between your palms. He couldn’t help the laugh that rippled from his lips with the sight of you, so fixated on making everything right. Truly, things couldn’t have been more perfect for him within this moment. This was the closest you’d ever been and though you grabbed him with a force that made his face sore, he wouldn’t trade this moment for the world.

Hearts pounding in sync, neither of you understood the weight of this moment, both sharing the hot, cavernous shame that buried itself within—wedging its way between you.

The grief Rick felt over his crumbling marriage was complicated. At first it tore him from the seams, pulling each thread until he was left a scrap of fabric on the floor. Then you came along and Rick started to notice the effect your presence had on him. What started with mindless babbling on supply runs or perimeter checks, slowly, unknowingly, let you weave the pieces of him back together.

“Y’don’t gotta worry ‘bout all that,” he cooed, tucking a sliver of hair behind your ear.

He wanted to say more. Wanted to tell you that he was that happy again—when you were around. He wanted to tell you that he didn’t care about his wife anymore not only because she had cheated, but because he had feelings for someone else—for you.

Instead, he only let himself say what the silver band on his ring finger allowed.

“Don’t go stressin’ over this old man’s problems, yeah?” Copying your movements, he carefully wiped the edges of your eyes, holding your face in his hands just gently enough he could excuse the action.

Leaning into this touch, you let your lashes flutter against his palm. Nodding against his skin, you breathed in his scent—the remnants of the alcohol on his lips and that deep, musky pull from the crook of his neck. 

Your small hands still held his arms, fingers creeping along his skin—feeling, tracing, memorizing—you felt him shudder beneath your touch. Readjusting his hips, Rick felt the denim on his legs getting more confined and he reached for his belt. Shifting the buckle, he tried to relieve the tension, but you just kept creeping closer.

He felt disgusting. Here you were, confiding in him, pouring your heart out to show you cared, and all he could think about was the blood rushing between his legs. His grip on you had tightened, palms greedily splayed on your waist, resisting every twitch to pull you onto his lap.

You didn’t say anything else, the moment felt busy enough with all the tension coming to a standstill. Though there were no words, the slow, lazy movements fused between each other were enough to speak for itself. Pure want filtered through every action and Rick found himself holding his breath in anticipation.

He saw you glance once, twice, at his lips. Jutting out his tongue, he slipped them beneath his teeth, maybe to dissipate the tension, or maybe to stop himself from giving in.

“Rick…?”

God, you were irresistible right now.

With spit-slicked lips and tear-puffed cheeks, you looked the closest to fucked out Rick had been able to see you outside of his imagination. 

He cleared his throat, grumbling out a soft string of curses. “Yeah, doll?”

Your eyes held a certain seriousness he hadn’t seen from you all night. He gave you his full attention, his heart beating fast with uncertainty. 

“M’sorry I got too drunk,” you slurred out sleepily, a gentle yawn leaving your lips.

Rick chuckled, shaking his head. He squeezed your cheeks between his palms and they almost disappeared with how his hands swallowed your face. 

You were so different now compared to just a few minutes ago. Like a cat, you curled up in his lap, claiming your territory. It was a cramped spot, huddled up between his chest and the steering wheel, but you didn’t seem to mind. 

His breathing shallowed the closer you pressed and he tried to fill his mind with thoughts that would stop the bulge from growing in his jeans. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable. If you saw how he truly felt about you, the way his body just couldn't resist, maybe he’d never get to see you again.

He smoothed his hands over the outside of your thighs, putting your legs on either side of him. “Ain’t nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout, darlin’.” You smiled into his neck. “Been havin’ a real nice time with ya…s’been a while since I spoke my mind. Nice to know someone cares.”

That last part was quietly whispered into your ear. Wriggling your toes excitedly, he felt the vibration of you humming contentedly against his neck.

Pulling back your head from the crook, he saw your cheeks dusted a rosy pink. They matched his and the heat of the cab that painted droplets on his forehead. Both of you were breathing heavier now, stickily clung to one another with desire hot on your tongue.

“I’ve always cared, Rick,” you pouted, almost offended. “You just never let anyone in.”

He hummed in response, lips pressed thin.

Rick knew you were right. Even Daryl, his right-hand-man, was oblivious to most of the things that raced through the man’s mind. There was so much he had lost—so much he felt he could never obtain—that the grief of it all was too much to speak out loud. 

“Want you to talk to me,” you whined, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “S’not fair how they treat you.”

Your head dipped low, stealing a gasp from Rick’s lips when you started to gently nibble at his collarbone. He sat there, frozen, his fingertips pressing further into your skin the more you licked. Your nose nuzzled the fabric of his shirt, breathing him in deep. A trail of kisses were planted from his pulse point to that soft, sensitive notch behind his ear. Your breath ghosted the shell of cartilage, feeling him twitch with every graze of your lips on his skin.

“T-thank you, darlin’.” He was fighting for his life now—one look away from bursting a blood vessel. “Awfully sweet of ya.”

Watching the Adam’s apple bob in his throat enticingly had your tongue flicking out, licking a stripe down the middle of his throat, feeling the groan he fought back. 

With the way he was holding on, you’d definitely have bruises where his hands sat on your hips. He was gripping onto you like a lifeline, the only thing keeping him from drifting away. You weren’t sitting on his lap anymore, but he had it so you were just slightly hovering above him, trying to lessen the temptation he felt. His hips would still twitch upwards with each sloppy kiss you left on his neck though, chasing friction like it was his only will to live.

You didn’t respond to him anymore, just happily sucked along the skin of his neck, feeling the goosebumps rise on his skin. His large hand closed down on the back of your head, sliding up your scalp until he had a firm hold of your hair.

“You’re killin’ me, doll.” His voice was low, guttural, with a breathiness at the end that sounded like he was pleading with you. 

Still, you didn’t look up, didn't even respond, just kept exploring the underside of his jaw, tugging helplessly at his curls. Getting a more hardened grip, he dragged your head to face him. 

“Look at me.” He demanded.

His words weren’t harsh, just firm.

Eyes blown wide and jaw slack, Rick couldn’t help but stare at your kiss swollen lips. He could feel every splotch on his skin where your touch still lingered—how much he had to pretend he didn’t want more.

“We can’t be doin’ this.” Repeating Daryl’s words from earlier, Rick tried to scold himself out of wanting.

“Do what?” you asked, playing dumb.

It was clear you knew what you were doing. It was what you had always wanted to do, but never had the shield of apathy to hide behind. Your embarrassment fizzled away with your sobriety, leaving you an empty husk of pure want—and Rick the target of your desires.

Lacing your fingers with his, you didn’t give Rick a moment to stop you. Didn’t give him the chance to tell you this was a bad idea.

His left hand covered your entire vision, his palm spread wide in front of your face. Cracks and scars littered the skin, hair curling between his knuckles and brushing roughly against the softness of your skin. Hand barely wrapped around his thick wrist, you toyed with the wedding ring on his finger, a cloud of guilt and anger clouding your senses.

You wanted to rip the damn thing off. It felt like some sick joke he was married—if you could even call that facade a marriage. It didn’t feel like she deserved him, but at the same time you wanted to understand the grief she was going through, and somehow process how she could do this to him. She was your friend, and you wanted to believe there was something redeemable under all the mistrust she created.

Rick stared at the band with you, both your eyes lingering on the metal, an unspoken conversation shared within the silence.

Cautiously, your eyes flickered to his, trying to read the mix of emotion in those icy blues. Then, slowly, you pressed a gentle kiss to the tips of his fingers, starting from thumb to pinky. He drew in a sharp breath, eyes not leaving yours as you worked your way across his digits. Lips pressed to his pinky, you trailed back, painfully slow, dragging the tip of your tongue over his ring finger, swirling around the tip.

He stifled a moan as you popped the digit between your lips. The band cooled your lips the further you took him, letting your eyes meet his in a deadly hold.

“Fuck,” Rick sighed, tipping his head back against the seat. “Y’don’t know what you’re doin’ t’me.”

He set you down on his lap, your plush thighs flush against his denim clad legs. You could feel him through his jeans and the way he tried to shy away from you. 

“I told you I had a surprise,” you giggled into his ear, bashfully hiding your face in your hair.

You wanted him bad and Rick could only resist for so long. The more he tried to pull away, the more of yourself you gave to him—it felt like an endless back and forth.

“You’ve been plannin’ this then, huh?” He rasped.

His guilt began to simmer and the realization that you wanted him just as badly—plus the grinding of your hips—dimmed any doubt he had before. A slight cockiness smoothed over his tone with you so desperately pawing at him, crying in his ear for more.

Nodding, you looked up at him through fluttering lashes. “Wanted you for so long.”

You whined, pulling yourself closer to him. His hands smoothed down your back, twisting the hem of your shirt around his fingers until he skated a light, feathery touch along your skin. 

“Yeah?” He laughed a little at your eagerness, the way you couldn’t hold yourself back anymore. “Coulda told me sooner, darlin’. Woulda taken care of ya.”

Pressing your hips down even harder, Rick took hold of your waist, stilling your movements. The pads of his fingers tapped gently against your side, beckoning your attention. Eyes blown wide, you looked up at him, lips parted like you were drooling over the sight of him.

“You want that, hmm?” Even with you crawling on top of him, nudging the buckle of his belt, there was a part of him that still needed to hear that yes. A deep, gaping part of him that still didn’t believe you could want him in this capacity, that in his position as a leader he had somehow swayed your thinking. “Wan’ me t’take care of ya?”

Impatiently, you clawed at the collar of his shirt, stretching out the fabric, trying to pull it over his head.

“Mhmm,” you nodded exaggeratively, your tongue poking out to wet your lips. “Please, Rick, that’s all I want.”

Well if you were gonna ask so nicely…

He smiled, washing away that last shred of doubt with that persistent look in your eye.

“Okay, sweet girl.” He glanced over his shoulder, wishing there was somewhere else other than the front seat of this truck he could be having this moment with you. The seat was cramped, your legs tangled in his lap, pressing against the steering wheel with a certain discomfort. “C’mere.” He lifted you onto the center console, guiding his seat back, and widened his stance for you to sit comfortably between his legs.

Happily, you perched yourself in front of him again, roaming your hands over the expanse of his chest. You tugged yourself closer, allowing yourself to get lost in the scent of him, letting your face absentmindedly brush against his skin.

“Wish this coulda been somewhere more special,” he started. Teeth grazed the shell of your ear, biting the lobe and tugging the skin harshly, making you whimper. “Been thinkin’ of this for a while, doll…” His hands slipped up the legs of your shorts, cupping your ass beneath the fabric, toying with the hem of your underwear. “How soft your skin feels in my hands…how good you’d taste. Feels like a dream jus’ gettin’ to touch you.”

You tossed your arms over his shoulders, bucking into his touch. Forehead pressed against his, you whined, wanting more of him. You placed your lips on his, tugging him closer and pushed deeper into the kiss. His lips were warm just like the rest of him, skin cracked and rough on the edges, reminding you that he was really here. Hands firm, he held you like it was something he owned, something he couldn’t live without. 

Brushing your tongue over his bottom lip, he gave you a false sense of control, letting you explore him eagerly, shamelessly circling your hips. You were chasing your own pleasure through the confines of your shorts, moaning into his mouth each time you felt him brush up against you.

If he weren’t so close, Rick could’ve lived in this moment forever, letting your bodies meld into one another. He couldn’t fool himself though—he wasn’t getting any younger. It had been a while since he’d felt like this, been this close to somebody. Though his mind was cherishing this moment, taking it all in one breath at a time, his body was chasing a fast release, his balls tightening with each roll of your hips.

“Slow down, doll” he chuckled, hands resting on your hips, stilling your movements. “M’not goin’ anywhere.”

That made your head dip low and cheeks flush in embarrassment. It had been so long since you’d been intimate—spent so much time daydreaming over this man—that the moment you got the opportunity you were rutting up against him like a hormonal teenager.

You softly mumbled out an apology, hips twitching with need as you tried to give him some space.

“Jus’ a little eager, ain’t that right, darlin’?” His fingers held tight on your jaw, cheeks slightly pinched together. Your eyes were glassy, lips pouted with a pent-up frustration that made his cock twitch beneath the denim. “Ain’t nothin’ t’be ashamed of.”

Nodding, you smiled, pawing at the loops of his belt, tugging his hips towards you.

He curled his fingers more sharply around you, cupping your heat, feeling the damp, sticky wetness through the fabric. Your body was a stripped wire, feeling every touch times ten, flashing sparks with each graze of his fingers.

Rick was so gentle with you in his words. You could feel through his touch that he wanted nothing more than to strip you down and claim you as his. His mind was a complicated thing though, always had been, seeking confirmation with every interaction. He didn’t move his lips or wander his fingertips until he had found the spot that made you shudder, moving on to claim the next piece of you, lapping up your sounds like praise.

He turned you in his lap, pressing you back flush to his chest. You could see out onto the street now, fingers curling around the leather of the sterling wheel while you tried to ground yourself. Lifting your hips, he popped the button of your shorts, sliding the fabric down your legs until they pooled at your ankles. 

Sucking in a breath, he groaned out a low string of curses, taking in the view of your soaked undergarments. Looping the waistband over his thick digit, he snapped the elastic back onto your skin, watching you flinch forward.

“Stop teasing.” You pleaded, arching your back, chasing his touch. “Please.”

The sound of your desperation, those salty tears rasping your voice, had his fingers moving even slower. He wanted to hear you beg. Wanted you sobbing in his lap until your tears soaked the denim, just pleading for a taste of his cock. But you were so sweet with your tear stained cheeks and puffy lips, asking for him so nicely. This time he’d let you off easy, figuring he’d savoured the moment long enough.

“Okay, darlin’.” His thick middle finger breached the hem of your underwear, pressing up the seam between your thigh. “Easy now.”

You were thrashing against him, bucking against the empty air. He kept you still though, one arm wrapped over the front of you, pressing down on your hips. His head dipped next to yours that was lulled back onto his shoulder, eyes squeezed shut with an impatient scrunch of the nose. His stubble scratched your skin and you could hear his stuttered breaths while he looked down at your core fluttering around the tip of his finger just barely grazing your entrance.

Collecting your wetness onto his fingers, they glistened in the light, matching your slick coated thighs. Pulling the rest of the fabric from your thighs, he brushed his thumb against your clit in a long, slow stripe. Again, you arched your back up off of him, tipping your head back with an unrestrained moan.

That was the sound he was looking for.

Latching his fingers onto the bud, he pinched, watching you squirm beneath him. Once again, you flooded his ears with that melodic sound, the unspoken praise perking up his ears.

“Rick…” you sighed, reaching down to his wrist, urging him for more.

Pressing down firmly, he traced slow, lazy circles onto your clit, watching the way your face scrunched in pleasure. He took in every subtle nuance, matching his fingers to the pace that had your eyes rolling to the back of your head. With full control, he used his leg to guide you along his slick coated fingers, slinking his hand to brush against your entrance. 

“Fuckin’ soaked,” he said in awe. His movements were quick, dipping the tip of his fingers between your walls before retreating with a squelching ‘pop’. “Y’hear that? She’s jus’ beggin’ f’me.”

You babbled incoherently, all thought going to the chase of your hips after his fingers. Rick forced his fingers past your lips, garbling the words on your tongue as he pressed the pads further down your throat. You gagged around him, spit bubbling up through your lips. He experimentally dipped his fingers even further back, testing your limits for just a moment before retreating, letting a string of spit connect him to your gasping lips.

He could do this all day if you’d let him. Looking at the way you twitched in his lap, mind numb, body pliant, you honestly might’ve let him. Watching you writhe in pleasure, chasing after his touch, having you call out for him—it was all too much.

Rick was studying—learning the ins and outs of your body in case you ever gave him the honour of touching you like this again. He could ignore the discomfort in his pants if it meant he got to hear those pretty moans on your lips just a little longer.

Eyelids fluttering open., you cried out his name again. “Need you,” you mewled. 

“Y’got me, doll,” he whispered huskily. “All of me– jus’ gotta tell me what you need.”

“Your cock,” you said shamelessly. 

You were always bold, cracking crude jokes that made the group stifle a laugh, maybe even roll their eyes. This was beyond any of his expectations though. This was pure, blatant desire—all directed at him—tumbling off your lips one confession after another.

“S’all yours,” he rasped coarsely. 

Your little fingers tugged on his belt, haphazardly unlatching the clasp the moment he gave you the go ahead. You were beaming, practically buzzing, to get your hands on him. Palming him through the fabric, you pulled down his jeans. Leaving him in just his boxers, the plaid fabric stared back at you intimidatingly, doing little to conceal the rest of him.

Shy fingers poked through the opening, carefully pulling out his length. He held his breath, watching you in awe, a crazed look in his eye while you lazily stroked his cock. Letting out a shaky groan, he couldn’t stop his hips from twitching up into your palm or they way needy moans filtered through his lips.

Rick was a giver—would’ve let himself go untouched if that’s what you wanted. You seemed to be enjoying his pleasure just the same though, taking in those beautifully parted lips and messily scattered curls. 

As much as he wanted to collect himself—focus on your pleasure—he was content with letting you take, take, take, his cock further and further into your palm, wrapping another hand to compensate for the girth.

He was big. Enough to make you a little nervous through your brazenness. The length of him was average, a perfect six or so inches that curved deliciously to his flushed tip. Wrapping your hand around him though, the base of him was wide, the tips of your fingers barely meeting back together. 

Rick was a mess beneath you, heaving out breathy moans and squirming his hips. He was close, more than he’d like to admit, and although your hands felt like heaven on his dick, he tore away your wrists.

Your eyes flicked up at him with a sharp insecurity, the hastiness of his movements taking you by surprise. He still had your wrists taken in his palm, chest heaving while he tried his best to collect himself. Every movement had him sensitive, on the verge of release, but he couldn’t let himself finish before he got inside you—before he made you finish.

You yelped as Rick lifted your hips, tossing your arms over his shoulders for balance. He was steady in the confined space, lip tucked beneath his teeth as he watched you with precision. Leaning back, he angled his hips towards the wheel, guiding you back so he could watch himself slide into you.

Sliding his tip through your slick, you gasped, tipping your head against the glass. He notched his tip to the brink of your entrance, watching your chest heave. As much as he wanted to watch the way you swallowed him in, he kept his focus on your face, stilling his movements each time he saw you wince.

He only had the tip in and you were already scrunching your nose, squirming away from the sensation. The intrusion burned, his cock bullying its way through your walls, pushing its way in with a brutal stretch.

You hissed, latching onto his arm, your other hand against his chest, trying to push him away. “S’too much, Rick,” you yelped, watching his swelling tip push past your folds. “C-can’t do it.”

Guilt burned his chest hearing you squeal like that, clawing into his chest to relive the ache. Seeing you so fucked out though—eyes rolled back, lips parted with a shiny trail of spit slicking your skin—he couldn’t pull out now.

He cupped your face, callouses scratching against your skin to refocus you, to bring you back to him. Curling his fingers around the back of your neck, he pulled you to his chest, easing in another couple of inches while he smoothed out your hair.

“I know, darlin’, I know,” he shushed your cries into the fabric of his shirt. Tracing shapes into your skin, he waited for your sniffles to subside before taking your hips back into his hold, guiding you down the rest of his length. “You’ve got it…” He picked your limp head off his shoulder, watching it soften as you got used to his size. “See? Ain’t too bad.”

He felt a tight squeeze around his cock and wriggle of your hips telling him he was allowed to move. Still, he needed further reassurance through your frantic nods into the crook of his neck.

“This okay?” Slowly, Rick pulled all the way out until it was just the tip, letting you sink back onto him with a loud squelch. You murmured some sort of praise into his skin, a conglomerate of ‘yesss, please, more’ muffled into his shirt. “Gotta hear ya, doll.”

“Yesss,” you moaned, lifting your head the best you could to look at him through teary eyes. “So good…please.”

Rick let out a satisfied hum, content with himself in how quickly he was able to make your mind go stupid on his cock.

Picking up the pace, you could feel the truck rocking beneath you. His breath was ragged, keeping himself flush against the back of the seat and holding a solid grip on your hips. As he pounded up into you, the edges of your vision blurred out, getting fuzzier the closer your bodies got. Your bodies clung together, sweat dripping off his curls and into your lap, only adding to the soft sloshing between you. 

He had fully stopped talking now, too close to the edge to hear your sweet voice try and respond to him. Just your gasps, stuttering out with thrust, was almost enough to send him over the edge, his eyes squeezing shut with the last of his restraint.

Trailing his hand around your front, he dipped his fingers between your folds, collecting the slick you were so generously pouring out for him. Deft fingers crept to your clit, starting with light, fluttering taps that had you biting your fist, trying to conceal your noises. He built up the pressure, finding a steady rhythm around the bud until he felt you shaking, your walls squeezing him in tight.

“C’mon, doll.” He leaned forward, swallowing back a groan, choosing to sink his teeth deep into your shoulder. “Let it all out.”

You cried out at the sensation, all of too much as you came tumbling over the edge. Little crescents indented the skin on his shoulders the deeper you dug, trying to ground yourself through your release. You were trashing in his arms, feeling the drag of his cock past your walls even through the aftershocks. 

He didn’t let up, kept pounding into you with the same force while you rode out your orgasm, chasing his own release. Just moments behind, you heard a broken moan stutter out from his lips, a rosy pink dusting his cheeks. Lifting your hips, he guided you further back against the wheel. Pulling you off his length, he frantically brought up a shaky hand, imagining it was yours as he tugged along the length of his dick. 

His eyes were focused on the tears bubbling in your eyes, that blissed-out look behind them, and the way your pussy fluttered around nothing, trying to coax his length back in. His hips stuttered once, twice, and he was painting the inside of your thighs with his release, blindly smearing the rest along his tip, leaning his head back with a sigh.

“God.” He looked at you in disbelief, almost reaching down to pinch himself. “Can’t believe you’re real.”

Giggling, you felt a hot embarrassment creep up your neck. Sobriety had settled its way through the cracks, your orgasm washing a needed wave of clarity over you. Now, despite being the one to initiate all of this, you felt embarrassed to have been so needy in front of the man you had been crushing on for months.

Rick took notice of your silence, the way you avoided his gaze like the plague. Scrunching his brows, he took hold of your chin, forcing you to look his way.

“Doll?” He blinked, trying to read your expression. “Y’alright?”

Bleakly, you nodded, somewhere far off from yourself.

“Talk t’me,” Rick urged, growing more concerned. “Did I do somethin’ wrong?”

Frantically, you shook your head, palms splayed out in front of you. “No, no, it’s just…” you trailed off, trying to find the right words. “Was…was that okay? I was pretty drunk and all over you…Are you sure that’s what you wanted?”

A laugh leaked from his lips before he could stop it from happening. 

You thought you’d forced yourself on him? 

He could’ve never thought of something further than the truth—the same exact thought clouding his mind except about himself.

“That’s what got ya so down?” Chuckling, he brought a hand to your face, pinching your cheek with his thumb. “Thas the last thing you need t’be worryin’ ‘bout. Could never stop me from wantin’ ya…was worried that you didn't want me, darlin’.”

“Really?” you giggled, popping your head off his chest. 

“Yes, really,” Rick smiled. “An old man like me would be crazy passin’ up a pretty girl like you. ‘Specially if she wanted me s’bad as you do,” he teased, giving your hip a playful squeeze. “Needy lil thing.”

Rolling your eyes, you tried to hide the blush that crept on your face. “Yeah, yeah, Grimes.” Crossing your arms, you gave him a feigned look of annoyance. “Thought you said we needed to get back to camp?”

Squeezing your thighs, he took one last look over your figure before clearing his throat. “Anythin’ you say, darlin’.” His eyes were unfocused, darting up and down your frame—god, he was pussy whipped. “Let’s get ya cleaned up first, yeah?”

Smirking, you dipped your pointer finger down to the puddles splashed on your thighs. Swiping at the liquid, Rick watched you intently as your lips wrapped around the digit, sucking off the salty fluid.

“Fuck,” he hissed, taking your thighs in a bruising grip. “Gonna be the death of me, doll.”

a special thanks to my taglist ♡ @death-in-a-tar0t-card @skankhvnt42 @riverz-pawz @1unaang3l @thee-fantastic-mrfox @spookysights-blog @snooziesuzie @kitty-grimes (message me to be added or removed)

[lovestriuck]

s5 rick is so fucking hot in his uniform i genuinely might cream my pants

[doedixon]

‧₊ ༯ constable rick and his dirty mouth…

“shit. just look at you…”

alexandria’s streets have never been quieter than in this moment, and thank god. you’re not sure how you’d turn up to any community events going forward if anyone saw you here like this, slutting yourself out for officer grimes the second he’s instated.

“r-riiick, fuck! someone’s gonna see—”

a particularly punchy thrust from him knocks the wind out of your lungs, cutting you off with your own gasp. you start to claw at the siding of the home he has you pushed up against, trying to find any solace from the way his dick splits you open. rick groans nice and long, taking a second to readjust you and to speak.

“such a sweet girl, y’know? mmh- who would’ve known… a uniform would get you this wet.”

he hikes up your hip, thoughtfully smoothing his rough hands over your exposed skin before fucking into you again. he drinks in your whines, head dipped down to watch the way you take him so eagerly, easily.

your hands grab at nothing before shakily finding rick’s arms, flexed under his jacket. his head shoots up, another taunt already playing on his tongue feeling you run your fingers over the badge embroidered on his sleeve. it brings a faraway, fucked out look in your eyes he’s obsessed with. the strength in his grip frees you to go limp, squeezing the life out of his arms, your cunt just drooling around his length.

“you like that.” rick purrs, not even bothering to ask. “is it the badge, honey? haah.. s’that what gets you this dumb?”

you try to nod, form a sexy, coherent reply, anything other than just moan and let him take you, but he makes it so hard. the curve of his cock sliding inside you so evenly is unreal, white is already beginning to blear your vision, and he’s absolutely right. this new authority of rick’s is making you very dizzy.

“don’t ignore me, sweetheart…” grabbing your attention, rick moves you all the way down his cock in one swift motion, bottoming out and holding you there.

you yelp followed by a string of curses, squirming while he exhales a dry chuckle. staying in tune with you, he moves in and catches your lips in a quick but steady kiss, his fresh stubble tickling slightly as he eventually moves his way down your neck.

“wasn’t… i wasn’t ignoring you, sir,” you start, regaining your wit. rick immediately reacts to the title, almost growling into your skin. he nips you before separating, those calculating blue eyes shifting all over your face with a dangerous smirk ghosting his lips.

“i-i don’t want any trouble.”

rick hums in faux consideration, massaging nicely at your sides before moving a hand to your lower stomach, right above where your bodies connect. holding you firm once again, he picks up his forgotten pace, fucking you like some kind of doll. all the heat of the moment bubbles frantically in your core, right where he’s pressing down on. you pathetically throw your worry of getting caught to the sun, whining your new constable’s name like a mantra as he breaks you in.

“yeaahh. cum like a good girl and there won’t be any trouble.”

— authors note. hiii im new here :p my first time writing for rick which is v suprising cause twd is my favorite ever. thanks for reading 💘

[tinytownn]

keep 'em on –

rick grimes x f!reader

word count: 4k

summary: where rick grimes wears glasses and then KEEPS THEM ONNNN (inspired by this post by @walkerfirefly)

content: 18+ [SMUT WARNING], rick is THE munch that man WORSHIPS omg, one toe moment (idk i got carried away), can be seen as a continuation of bnb or a standalone, foggyglassesfoggyglasses

a/n: gonna change my username to ricksfoggyglasses after this post bc OHMYGODDD IM OBSESSED !! as always thank you to @kitty-grimes for beta readinggg and always getting the vision frfr <333 also thank you @twd-bee3 and @cece-says-stuff for some fic inspo earlier !!

leave all requests here…

It was another lazy Sunday morning where the sun brushed through the curtains and soaked you in its playful warmth, kissing your skin from beneath the covers. Without even opening your eyes, you turned on your back, expectantly awaiting Rick’s beckoning arms. When he didn’t pull you closer, didn’t even twitch, you peeked through a sneakily lifted lid. 

He wasn’t there.

Frowning, you whined into the empty air of the room. Part of you wished he would’ve heard you, undoubtedly guilted into crawling back underneath the covers. You knew better though, he had been busy this past week, and you should have expected this. 

It was an urgent case—all hands on-deck—the type of ordeal that made its way into the news. You didn’t bother researching it or asking questions, knowing the last thing he’d want to do was go over details of the case he couldn’t escape.

Even now, in the old, dusty La-z-boy that was supposed to be reserved for early morning coffee, he was working on that damn case. Files littered the table, yellow manilla folders piled in stacks until they toppled into the liquidy rings of coffee scattered around the glass.

He had gotten up early. Earlier than he would’ve liked on what was supposed to be his day off, but he wanted to spend the day with you before you went back to work on Monday. He figured that if he got all this paperwork out of the way before you even woke up, then he’d have plenty of time, and possibly a moment to crawl back into bed with you.

His wish wouldn’t seem to be coming true though. He heard your soft, gentle footsteps as they tiptoed down the hall. 

A tender smile twitched the corners of his lips. “Good mornin’, baby.”

Sluggish knuckles wiped at your sleep-crusted eyes, lips curled into a frowning pout. “You left me…”

Finally, he glanced up from his work. He grinned, pupils dilated while he looked you over: Hair tousled with just his t-shirt on—some old, faded logo of a concert he’d been to—with a pair of oversized slippers that dragged on the floor.

“Had t’get some work done this mornin’.” Patting his thigh, he beckoned you closer. “C’mere.”

Prancing between his legs, you nestled onto his lap, taking interest in the new accessory your lover donned. Limbs curled onto the recliner, you grinned, arms draped over his shoulders, toying with the edges of his ears.

“What’re these?” you gawked, tapping the lens of the black-rimmed glasses Rick had balanced on his nose. As many times as you had been in his room, searched through his things, or even done his laundry, never once had you noticed a pair of glasses. “I didn’t know you had these.”

He jumped back a little, biting back the smile on his lips—it would have only urged you on—while he refocused on whatever he was reading. 

“M’reading glasses,” he mumbled, jotting down a string of bullet points.

“Yeah,” you scoffed. “I can see that. Where’d you get them? They look good.”

You definitely weren’t lying. It was a subtle change, but the way the older man looked with those glasses had your mind wandering. 

Even though you lived with him, it felt intimate seeing him like this—readers tipped on his nose, leaned back in his recliner—as if he was truly at home here with you. The glasses made him look more mature than the uniform he always wore, a change that you didn’t seem to mind.

Rick had been letting his facial hair grow out too. What was usually a short, maintained stubble, curled into the beginnings of a thicker, more full beard. It wasn’t too long, but was still nice to run your fingers in. You let your nails wander through the coarseness, tapping at the rim of his frames.

He shook your hands from his face, letting out an impatient grumble. “Don’t r’member, they make me look old.”

The words came out so matter-of-factly, like he was declaring this so-called truth and got to shun you from this glorious view.

You rolled your eyes. “They make you look hot– like I should be calling you Mr. Grimes instead.”

He huffed out a laugh, eyes never leaving the paper he was now just mindlessly skimming through. “S’that so?”

Raising an eyebrow, he was really trying to focus on his paperwork. The way your words curled off your tongue though, all soft and sultry even this early in the morning, had his cock twitching in his sweatpants. 

You nodded, a desperate whine muffled into his neck. 

Rick needed to get this done. It was supposed to be on his boss’ desk by tomorrow morning.

He couldn’t focus though. Not with your needy hips rutting against him, coaxing a low groan from his lips.

His hands roamed to your waist, stilling your movements with his strong hands. He planted you firmly against him, those icy blues flickering over you with a restrained wanting through the thick frames.

“Give me an hour, darlin’,” he chuckled, adjusting the readers up the bridge of his nose. His scruff scratched against your cheek as he leaned down to the coffee table, shuffling the array of papers. “Need’ta get this done, then you have all my attention.”

His eyebrows raised, giving you a look as if to say, ‘deal?’, but you clearly weren’t having it.

Bottom lip jutting out in a pitiful pout, you swung your legs over the arm of the chair. Your arms crossed, a sharp huff of air shooting out your nose, and you purposefully turned your head away, chin pointed to the sky.

“An hour?” There was a small twitch in the corner of your lips when you said it as if your tone was just to piss him off—if that was even possible. “You said we’d have the whole day together.”

Rick frowned, dropping his pen and leaning back in the old recliner as its hinges shuddered out a strained squeak. 

“I know,” he sighed, hands roaming your exposed thighs, “thought I’d have more time before you woke up. Y’know if it were up to me we’d be in that bed all day.”

He laughed huskily—almost mockingly—at your early morning attitude. 

You were insatiable. Even now, doing your best to inch closer to him, he could feel the thin cotton of your underwear soaking through his sweats, pressing into his bulge through the fabric. He could practically feel your folds gliding along his length as you subconsciously twitched your hips. 

A tired babble left your lips while his hands roamed, exploring all the skin you had so generously left on display for him. Greedily, his fingers latched around the back of your thighs, squeezing the flesh then smoothing it tenderly. 

Coaxing you back onto his lap, you curled up onto his legs, sheepishly peering up at him through tousled hair. He scrunched his nose uncomfortably as the old, scratched frames slid further down his face. You reached up, taking hold of either side of the wobbly hinges, and pushed them back into place.

He smiled down at you warmly. “How ‘bout I help you fall back asleep, hmm?” His hands were rougher now, trying to meld with your skin. “I’ll even have pancakes waitin’ when you wake back up.”

A sly smile creeped on your lips. “Make them cinnamon and you’ve got a deal.”

Rick’s thick fingers wrapped gently around your hair, brushing it over your shoulder. His beard tickled your neck as he dipped his head down to plant slow, breathy kisses. Each one was followed by a long drag of his lips along your skin, the tip of his nose nudging against your ear.

Your nails curled their way through his scalp. They dragged down between his shoulderblades, leaving deep, red marks that made him nip at your neck.

You yelped, pushing his shoulders until he hit the back of the chair. He looked up at you with a lovesick smile, a certain glaze going over his eyes that made his lips part in awe and his pupils swell. 

“C’mon then,” he nodded his head back towards the hallway, but his eyes never left yours, “back t’bed, baby.”

He patted your thigh twice before letting up, giving you a chance to finally uncurl from his lap. 

You made quick, hasty steps to your room, hopping back into the cocoon of blankets you had left just a few minutes earlier. Rick’s heavy footsteps echoed down the hall, the slow trudge of an early morning dragging his feet.

When he walked through the doorway, he paused for a moment, leaning his weight on the frame with an arm lazily wrapped behind his head. The white tee hugged his arms just right in that position, the muscle pulling the fabric tight around his bicep. His sweatpants had slightly come loose from all the friction, leaving the band of his boxers temptingly peeking out. Above the plaid was a trail of thick, dark hair around his navel that poked out beneath the shirt.

And those glasses.

They were a small pair of readers—the kind you spin through on those racks at the pharmacy—a thick, black plastic lining the lenses. He must have long lost the case and cleaning rag because it was spotted with fingerprints and the earpieces were wobbly and hanging loosely at the sides.

Propping yourself up onto your elbows, you shamelessly took in the view. You had seen it hundreds of times before—sleepily stalking around the kitchen, fresh out the shower, or even curled up beside you on the couch—it never stopped being as memorable as the first. Your eyes were hungry, devouring every piece of him with just your gaze. 

His movements were slow, intentional—an overwhelming need to devour you combined with a restraint to savour this moment. Walking up to the foot of the bed, he brought your legs on either side of him, dragging you down the duvet. Your bodies were flush, the fabric of your t-shirt bunched up around the sides, leaving Rick a showcase of the thin, baby pink underwear snug on your hips.

He tugged the waistband, letting it snap back against your skin. “Darlin’...” he sighed, almost astonished while he peered down at the wetness soaking his thumb through the fabric. “No wonder you couldn’t sleep.”

Gently, he brought your legs—one at a time—over each of his shoulders. His hands were locked around your ankles, smoothing circles onto the skin. 

“Been so busy workin’ I’ve forgotten ‘bout my girl.” 

Your back arched, mewling at his words and the way his warmth spread through your skin.

“I haven’t seen you all week,” you whined. 

Your cheeks flushed at your tone, coming off more desperate than you had wanted. It was what you were though—desperate—with how much your body was writhing to get closer to him. 

“Let me make it up t’ya, yeah?” He looked down at you, planting firm, wet kisses along your calf. 

Nodding, you looked up at him with curious eyes. He continued his trail, dragging his lips further down your leg. Nipping gently at your ankle, he had you squirming beneath him, giggling at his touch.

“S-stop,” you laughed, weakly pushing him away with your other foot. “That tickles!”

He just grunted, continuing his way down, planting his hands firmly on your hips to keep you still. His tongue jutted out from between his lips, giving a few curious swirls along your heel before lapping a long stripe along the sole of your foot. 

You wriggled at the unfamiliar feeling, but Rick’s hands kept steady.

Lips greedily claiming every part of your skin, he kissed each of your toes, popping one into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the digit. His eyes were shut, his mouth blindly leading him and his endless want for you. Deep groans left his lips as his hips twitched against the mattress, chasing some sort of release.

It made your stomach tighten watching him so deeply enraptured with every part of you. With each part his fingers grazed or his lips kissed, you felt a low hum of satisfaction rumble in his chest.

Leaning his head back, his lips were a deeper shade, kiss-swollen, and spit slicked. His eyes were wide, those glasses just barely hanging on the bridge of his nose and he kept brushing the frames with the side of your calf.

He lowered onto his knees, steadily balancing himself as his knees crackled. You watched him between your legs, sharing a warm, silent smile between the two of you.

His movements were practiced, an unspoken conversation between you and his fingers. They started slowly, creeping over the waistband of your underwear. Stilling slightly, he gave you a moment to back out—as if you ever would—flicking his eyes up to yours in confirmation.

Lips parted, you gave him an eager nod. 

“Lie back, baby,” he mumbled into your thighs. “Jus’ relax.”

You don’t know how he expected you to relax—let alone fall asleep—when he was between your legs like this, looking more irresistible than ever. His cheek was squished against your leg, glasses falling lopsided against his face. He reached up to grab the frames, just barely pulling them over his ears before you reached up, your small hand wrapping around his wrist.

“No-” You bit your lip nervously, pushing the glasses back onto his face. “Keep them on.”

Rick paused for a moment, looking up at you with a blank stare. He scrunched his nose, awkwardly adjusting the frames until they were balanced again. A toothy grin spread across his face, a belly laugh shaking his shoulders and your legs that rested upon them.

“Y’really like them that much? These things’r prolly older than you.” 

He was still laughing while he trailed kisses along your thighs. You nodded sheepishly, letting your hair fall in front of your face. 

“Wasn’t lying,” you giggled. “They look good on you– keep ‘em on.”

He hummed, trailing closer to your core, breath carelessly fanning across your heat like he wasn’t making you squirm.

“Yes, ma’am.”

And just like that he was gone.

Eyes glazed over, he was all teeth, sinking into your hips and pulling down your underwear. He pried it from around your ankles, pulling the fabric to his nose and taking deep inhale like it was his last breath. You could see the splotch of wetness from before, a deep wet patch soaked into the fabric. Rick held it against his lips and you watched the wetness grow as his tongue lapped up the juices.

“Y’taste s’good, baby,” he was almost slurring, so lost in the moment. “Don’ wanna waste it.”

You whimpered, hips twitching towards him, yearning for the affection he was giving to your underwear.

When he had enough, he tossed it to the side, licking his lips as he looked over his real meal. Putting his hands on either side of your thighs, he pulled you even closer, taking in your scent again like it was better straight from the source.

Sometimes he would tease, leaving little kitten licks along your clit just to hear the pretty sounds you’d make. He loved to make your pleasure last as long as possible despite your complaints. He’d have you shaking beneath him, crying for an orgasm until he finally let you go, all that built up frustration washing over you with a mind numbing relief.

This time though, he couldn’t stop himself from diving right in. It had been too long since he’d seen you like this, since he’d heard those breathy gasps he loved so much. 

Arms hooked around your thighs, he dragged you closer to the edge of the bed and his breath was fanning right over your core. He gave a few sloppy kisses, lapping up your juices with his tongue just to watch you squirm.

Your mind was fuzzy, letting you ride a gentle wave of ecstasy while Rick worked his way between your thighs. He was starved, taking up anything you gave him while deep, vibrating groans left his lips. It was all so filthy—the smack of his lips against your skin, the way his beard glistened with slick, and how his glasses started to slightly fog around the edges.

It was clear he wasn’t used to the frames, especially in this situation. They kept sliding down his nose and in the midst of his concentration, he would knock his cheek frantically against your thigh, desperately trying to get back to your weeping pussy.

You were practically clenching around nothing now, watching the way Rick readjusted his glasses when he’d come up for air. He was panting, licking his lips with fervor, while he found enough breath to dive back in. His gaze met yours for a moment, eyes burning with a blazing persistence that told you he didn’t even know the effect he had on you right now.

Lopsided smile, glasses knocked crooked on his nose, Rick Grimes was the epitome of perfection.

“Whatcha lookin’ at?” he chuckled playfully.

His teeth dug deep into his bottom lip, looking up at you almost bashfully. He kept fiddling with the edges of his glasses, constantly readjusting the frames on his face like it was an itch he couldn’t scratch.

“Can you even see?” you giggled, reaching between your legs to wipe at the foggy lenses.

He nodded, leaning into your touch. “Better than ever actually.” 

His eyes flickered for a moment, like an idea had just struck, and he lifted himself off his knees, groaning a little as they popped. Motioning his chin to the headboard, he started to crawl on the bed, nudging his frames against your knee.

Obediently, you scrambled back against the headboard, letting Rick cage you in. His eyes didn’t focus on anywhere specific, just trailing over you like it was the first time all over again. He was in awe, seeing the body he worshipped, but clearer than ever before.

He wasn’t going to waste a moment of this.

“Sit up.” His words were gentle, but firm. “Wanna see all of you.”

Your back slid against the headboard, the wood cool against your skin. Rick was between your legs, still pecking kisses at any skin he could find. He slithered his hands back to your thighs, peeling them apart with a shaky breath.

“Got the best seat in the house, darlin’.” He clicked his teeth, leaving a few kisses on your knees while he took in the view. “Can’t believe all this s’for me.”

You whined, arching your back until you were just inches away from his lips. He gave you a teasing smirk, giving your thighs a few more gentle nips before he latched back onto your clit. 

It was a jolt of pleasure that kept coming in tidal waves. He didn’t stop. Wouldn’t let up despite you thrashing beneath him. His tongue moved in lazy circles, pressing flat against your clit so he could make room to slide a finger to your entrance. Barely grazing your walls, he pressed the tip of his finger, quickly retreating and watching the frustration build before he plunged it deep, curling it with each stroke.

“Rick-” you stuttered, bucking your hips. “Please-”

Rick’s fingertips dug deep into the plushness of your thighs, a silent promise of ‘I’ve got ya’, as he picked up the pace. His tongue flicked upwards, testing the waters and when you responded with a high-pitched moan, he did it again. He added another finger, matching the pace of his tongue that had you squirming in the sheets.

“Fuck!”

Your thighs clamped around his head and you felt the unfamiliar press of his glasses into your skin. It felt like they were gonna snap under the pressure, but when you tried to let up, Rick clamped his hands over your legs, keeping him trapped between your thighs.

You could still hear him, muffled through the skin, slurping and licking up everything you gave him. Even now, with your thighs trembling, he kept up his speed. His tongue swirled figure eights haphazardly between your folds, focusing solely on your clit once he felt you tightening up. 

“I can feel it, baby.” His words were gentle, encouraging, like he was proud of you. “Let go f’me.”

Without him having to say a word, you could feel his praise in the way he eagerly carried you through your orgasm. His tongue didn’t stop, dipping inside your entrance, around your folds, and even travelling to your thighs to lap up your juices like it was the fountain of youth. He hummed against you and your body buzzed with overstimulation.

“S’too much,” you mewled, pressing further into the headboard.

“One more,” Rick begged from between your thighs, not even giving you a moment to breathe. “I know y’can do it.”

You shook your head, frantically trying to pull away as he latched back onto your clit. Your mouth fell open, a strained squeak coming out instead of your intended protest.

“Rickkkk-” 

His name dragged off your tongue, long and drawn out. 

Peering to the edge of the bed, his glasses had fogged up again and were sliding off his nose. He didn’t seem to care though, even more determined this time, nursing your clit without even coming up to breathe.

His eyebrows were knotted and deep wrinkles lined his forehead. You could see his hips shamelessly rutting against the mattress each time a broken moan fell off his lips and vibrated through your core.

You were stuttering out pleas now, strings of babbled cries about how it was all just too much. Your legs tightened around him, almost begging for him to ease up and give you a moment to catch your breath. You were stumbling down from your first orgasm and he already had you barreling straight into another.

His beard scratched your skin as he worked, frantically dancing around your thighs. He was everywhere all at once and your body felt like a bolt of electricity sizzling through the sky.

“Gonna sleep so good,” he hummed, pressing the tips of two of his fingers to your swollen entrance. 

Sliding his digits through your slick, he scissored them in and out, letting a vulgar symphony of sounds echo the room. 

He knew you were close, could feel it in the way you clenched around him. When he felt you start to shake and that violent grip your thighs had on him got stronger, he quickly pulled his fingers away, hungrily taking in your second climax.

This time he was more gentle as you came down from the high. His hands smoothed over your skin, unhooking your knees from around his shoulders. He pressed kisses in a wet trail up your stomach until he found your lips.

“You doin’ alright, darlin’?” He was out of breath, chest still heaving while his arms shakily held him above you. 

Eyes glazed over, you looked up at him sleepily. It felt like you were filled with air, floating on a cloud. Completely blissed out, you could barely come up with an answer for him, just nodded and let out a soft whine.

He laughed. 

“Told ya I’d help you fall back asleep.” With a hushed whisper, he leaned down to brush the hair from your face, planting a gentle kiss to your forehead.

Squirming, you tried to grab him, but your arms were too tired to reach. 

“Come back,” you mumbled sleepily.

A short breath of air huffed out his nose while he adjusted his sweatpants. 

“I will– promise.” He took the frames from his face and carefully adjusted them over your ears. “I’m leavin’ these here so you’ll let me focus. Should only take me an hour, darlin’, ‘n I’m all yours.”

Scrunching your nose, you tried to adjust to the new weight on your face.

“Don’ think I–”

Yawn.

“Don’ think I forgot ‘bout the pancakes.”

Your words were all melded together, barely comprehensible. When he heard the word ‘pancakes’ though, he immediately knew what you meant.

“Hot ‘n ready when you wake up.” Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Jus’ get some sleep for now, yeah?”

a special thanks to my taglist ♡ @death-in-a-tar0t-card @skankhvnt42 @riverz-pawz @1unaang3l @thee-fantastic-mrfox @spookysights-blog @snooziesuzie @kitty-grimes (message me to be added or removed)

[kyrasworldd]

❀.ೃ where the forbidden fruit resides

warnings : 18+ MINORS DNI - switch!rick, switch!reader, strangulation, degradation + humiliation, semi-public sex?, religious references, paranoia + insanity through rick, age gap !

pairings : rick grimes x gn!greene!reader -s3

word count : 2.5k

songs i listened to while writing : all wound up, come undone, inbred, gibson girl, unpunishable, Dante, hush, ptolemaea

a/n : definitely didn't come up with this idea drunk... dark religious smut from me once again lolollolol. grimelings were a very big help in making this so love u guys ;))

It was wrong of him to fantasise about you, especially in the way he was.

His cock jittered beneath his tauten grip, stroking the flesh in painfully slow strokes as he disgustingly relished the feeling and thought behind what he was doing. Maybe him doing this was some sort of coping mechanism, something to put his mind off all the death he had endured, something to put his mind off of Lori. Even then, it was far from right, matter of fact, it was so, so wrong.

Still, he continued, hips lifting up in tandem to the flicks of his wrist, letting out quickened and quiet pants as he chased the release that was building, the release that was most unfortunately at the thought of you.

He imagined how it would feel to touch you, to feel your smoothed skin against the coarseness of his own, how it would feel to have his cock inside of you, using you as he pleased, touching you when he knew he couldn't.

Just the thought of touching something that he wasn't supposed to had him nearing his edge, biting down on the insides of his cheeks hard enough to draw blood. The metal of the beds frame was cold against the skin, numbing the nape of his neck as his hand moved at a faster pace than before. He was bumpy now, folding into himself quicker than he had expected and beginning to spasm at his fist, small squirts of cum left to rest on his skin, a reminder of what he’d just done.

The euphoric feeling settled, replacing itself with the guilt he had been prone to feel after the numerous times he had done this. And every time, he would tell himself the exact same thing. He wouldn't do this again.

The next morning, Rick awoke as he usually did, wiping a hand over his face as he forces himself up and out of his cell. Usually, nobody would be awake this early in the morning and for rick, that was great. He enjoyed having a little normalcy of his old life from it, even if it was just the feeling of waking up early like he used too, he was grateful for it.

Walking over to Judith’s crib, he stops in his step, eyes glaring into the back of the person at the foot of the crib, seemingly holding the baby to their chest, doing what he was hoping to. But you’d beat him to it.

Looking at you now, his mind as sickened as it was, had him recollecting what he’d been doing the night before, what he’d been doing a lot of these nights over the past few weeks. His mind forced him to remember how he had been fucking himself to the thought of you and only you. Now, as you held Judith in your arms who showed no signs of irritation, it did nothing to stop these thoughts he was having of you. More so, it made them worse.

Turning on your heel, the sight of Rick has you smiling instantly, a soft expression as you come eye to eye with the father of the child you were so happily looking after.

‘Hey Rick!… you wanna hold her?’

You ask, voice holding the same familiar cheery innocence it always held as you hold Judith to your chest, letting the baby girl nestle into you comfortably. Even with the things you’d seen, you stayed just as you were when he had met you at the farm, pure. And it really got him going.

The sight of you holding his daughter has his mind racing, thoughts he usually had into the night creeping up on him all at once - fuck, he had to control himself.

‘yeah- yeah, sure’

He stammers, eyes dragging awkwardly across the floor as the shame rises, no longer able to meet your own eyes until you pass him Judith, only meeting for a split second before he turns away in shame.

It was unfair how beautiful you could look without trying. The purse of your lips as you watched him, how attentively you cared for a child that wasn’t even yours, the delicate cross that sat where your collarbones met… it was all so attractive for him, especially when he knew it shouldn’t have been.

So there he was again, choosing to fist his cock instead of trying to get these thoughts of you he’d been plagued with out of sick head. Knowing you were sleeping in the cell block beside him, nimble body curled up in the sheets, scarless and sweet unlike himself, had him getting hotter already.

He didn’t know what it was with you… was it the fact you hadn’t killed a walker? not even once?, or was it how even as leader, he wanted something he knew he couldn’t? somebody far too young for him and somebody who was untouched by the sins he was infected by. you were the perfect example of a christian, just as your father had intended you to be.

The thought, once again, had him whurring towards his release, rocking his hips up faster as he hissed under his breath, trying his hardest to keep himself down. But he just couldn’t.

Your name slipped from his lips before he could stop himself, a soft whimper, but, saying your name aloud made it real. That didn’t mean he was going to stop though.

‘Rick…?’

The sleepy husk of your voice hits him far too late and when it had, he turns his head on tandem, tugging the sheets to cover him in the best way he can, sweat-slicking down strands of hair to his temple.He gulps stiffly, hoping you hadn’t seen what he was doing, or even heard for that matter as he watches you from outside of his cell, eyes reaching your own in the darkness of the cell block outside.

‘y/n… somethin’ wrong darlin’?’

He asks, voice hoarse as he chooses to feign innocence, only thing he could possibly think to do after being caught by the exact person his actions were over. The nickname, used ever so cruelly, has you smiling shyly, just in the way he wanted.

‘can i come in…? I need to talk to you.’

The question, as wonderful as it sounded coming from yourself, has him at a loss for words. His body, still slick and aching under the covers from what you may have seen him doing, froze at the words you spoke. If you had caught him, why were you acting so oblivious to it? Were you feigning this innocence just as he was?… Maybe the fruit that Hershel had nurtured so patiently wasn’t as perfect as he had thought it to be after all.

‘Yeah- um, come on in’

He ends up replying just a few seconds after, little disorientated but still, sitting up enough for the sheets to bunch around his waist, up against the low-value metal of the prison’s beds, adjusting himself in the best way he could when you come through. You make an effort to move the bars of the cell shut quietly in the lateness of the night, being weary to not wake anybody else up.

You move as carefully as you usually do, being sure to not meet Rick’s observant eyes in the blackness of the space, saved by the light of the moon coming through the prison’s musty block windows, reflecting off your own skin. Sitting on the edge of the bed, the aged springs creak beneath your weight as you settle, fingers fidgeting upon your lap as you struggle to find the words that are tangled and torn through ‘nerves’.

‘I think- I’ve done something bad.’

The words that leave your lips have Rick left confused, leading him to lean in further towards you in reaction, eyebrows furrowed in the slightest at his crow’s feet. He makes a wordless response through expression, the anxiousness that was coming off of you in vast waves washing off onto him aswell.

‘You have too… haven't you, Rick?’

Now that gets him.

‘I’m sorry?’

The way you've turned to him now, eyes staring right back at his own, as if you’re trying to challenge him has him raddled, eyebrows still drawn in confusion where they meet but now, much lighter than they had been before, trying to stay calm, even under your hardened gaze.

‘You heard me.’

Your voice, suddenly strong but wavering on its edges has him even more confused. Not once had you defied him, or anybody else for that matter. So, why were you here, in his cell, demeaning him for the actions you had very clearly saw him do. He’d expected you to run back and tell your father if you’d ever caught him, just as a sheep would to their shepherds but instead, you were coming face to face with him on the matter instead. And that scared him a little.

‘y/n, you should go-’

His confusion on the whatever was happening right now is further intensified when you lunge forward, lips colliding with his own in a way that borders on desperation, in a way that makes it seem that you had been wanting this just as bad as he had been fucking himself these nights over it too.

He didn't push back. He matches your intensity, hauling you swiftly to settle atop of him, wasting no time to rid you of your sleeping shirt, adorning your neck with kisses as he does so.

The stir of his cock under the thinned sheets has you rasping out a moan from your throat, the noise muffled by your lips that are pressed against his own again. In response to the stirring of his cock from his earlier activities, you move your hand down, entering the confined area underneath the covers, heat of his member warming your hand before it's even touched.

‘knew I saw you doing this’

You cant’t help but tease as your hand comes into contact with his throbbing cock, a kittenish smile making its way onto your face as you watch him bite back a whimper, eyes fallen low as he looks back at you, feral and submissive, making you move further down onto the print.

Your hips move slowly at first, mirroring the strokes you give to his shaft under the covers, dainty necklace falling back and forth against where your collarbones meet as you rub against him, the movement of the silver cross piece catching his eye and turning him on all the more. And you catch him, just before he leans his head back against the colder wall, paint flaking down as his head falls against the brick.

‘You want this as well?’

You press, taking the jewellery around the neck and lacing it around your fingers, smirking down at the man who's now a whimpering mess for the little you’re giving him.

‘y/n- jus’ shut up’

He grunts out, eyes flickering back open from where he rests against the wall, watching as you tease him, the humility of it making him want to turn you over and fuck you senseless for the way you were speaking to him, the way you were making him feel inferior for being caught acting in the way that he had for you. You were nowhere near as innocent as he had believed you to be, as you acted for everybody else… really, you were worse than he was.

‘what? cmon Rick use your words’

You tease further, leaning forward so that your breath can mingle with his own, the hotness of it leaving the two of you dizzy, even with the passion of the moment, hips still moving slowly against his clothed cock and stroking painfully slow, the slickness of his tip proving just how bad you were teasing him. And he’d had enough.

Before you can respond with another quip, he’s got you, body now strewn atop of your own, holding you down by your wrists, settled on the sides of your head in an almost painful grip. The aggression he shows makes you still for just a moment, breaths quickened as you stare back at him, seeing the primal lust within his irises.

‘I told you to shut up.’

He voices, tone harsher than it had ever been used on you. You can’t help but flutter at this new aggression he shows, hips lifting up instinctively as your held in place, his now naked dick pressed against your thigh teasingly.

‘looks who's desperate now…’

He quips, reiterating your earlier teases and watching you squirm because of it. The sight has his cock pulsating, hardening more than he had thought possible. He needed to fuck you, and fast.

So, he works on instinct, moving at an unbridled pace to get your clothes off, so far as ripping at the underwear you wore, just to get to where he needed most.

The moment he moves in, he knows you’ll squeal. His hand moves immediately to your mouth, allowing you to bite down on the roughened skin of his palm as he holds it across, pressing your further into the mattress with it. The violent and desperate feel of his hand pressing into your jaw bone at both sides has you biting deeper into his skin, moaning around the muscle and leading him to buck further inside of you.

At the sight of the silver piece around your virginial neck, acting as a constant reminder of who you were, he groans, taking the piece between his own fingers this time and leaning down, fucking you faster as he does so.

The tangle of the chain in-between his fingers leads it to strain around your neck, silver digging into the unblemished skin, choking your moans and blabbers from the effects of his cock. But Rick dosent stop. Instead, he holds the jewellery tighter, watching you choke quietly from the restraint, getting off on the sight faster than he ever had to only the thought of you with his fist.

‘You like that, don’t ya’?… ain’t so innocent after all.’

He quirks, letting go off the restraint the chain holds around your neck, just enough for you to respond. But all you can do is nod submissively, biting down on your perfectly pursed lips enough to draw blood as he moves with a set pace in and out of you, rough in his movements.

The feeling he gives you is beyond explicable, something you knew that the two of you wouldn’t be forgetting anytime sooner. The way he's talking to you, all wound up and domineering has you nearing your edge faster than you had hoped, clinging onto whatever skin you could grasp of his, pulling him impossibly closer.

‘Faster- faster’

The words roll right off your tongue desperately, almost in a babble as he follows your request, moving rapidly into you now, bordering on painful. And with that, his hips stutter, spilling into your heat with a muffled groan against the slick skin of your neck, leading you to follow at the sensation of his seed settling inside of you.

The cross he had once gripped so tightly falls back against your neck, the chain having left its mark against the skin, cut and bruising at the bone. But, the forbidden fruit had already been bruised to begin with, had it not?

©kyrasworldd 2026

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

[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 -

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

[doedixon]

‧₊ ༯ constable rick and his dirty mouth…

“shit. just look at you…”

alexandria’s streets have never been quieter than in this moment, and thank god. you’re not sure how you’d turn up to any community events going forward if anyone saw you here like this, slutting yourself out for officer grimes the second he’s instated.

“r-riiick, fuck! someone’s gonna see—”

a particularly punchy thrust from him knocks the wind out of your lungs, cutting you off with your own gasp. you start to claw at the siding of the home he has you pushed up against, trying to find any solace from the way his dick splits you open. rick groans nice and long, taking a second to readjust you and to speak.

“such a sweet girl, y’know? mmh- who would’ve known… a uniform would get you this wet.”

he hikes up your hip, thoughtfully smoothing his rough hands over your exposed skin before fucking into you again. he drinks in your whines, head dipped down to watch the way you take him so eagerly, easily.

your hands grab at nothing before shakily finding rick’s arms, flexed under his jacket. his head shoots up, another taunt already playing on his tongue feeling you run your fingers over the badge embroidered on his sleeve. it brings a faraway, fucked out look in your eyes he’s obsessed with. the strength in his grip frees you to go limp, squeezing the life out of his arms, your cunt just drooling around his length.

“you like that.” rick purrs, not even bothering to ask. “is it the badge, honey? haah.. s’that what gets you this dumb?”

you try to nod, form a sexy, coherent reply, anything other than just moan and let him take you, but he makes it so hard. the curve of his cock sliding inside you so evenly is unreal, white is already beginning to blear your vision, and he’s absolutely right. this new authority of rick’s is making you very dizzy.

“don’t ignore me, sweetheart…” grabbing your attention, rick moves you all the way down his cock in one swift motion, bottoming out and holding you there.

you yelp followed by a string of curses, squirming while he exhales a dry chuckle. staying in tune with you, he moves in and catches your lips in a quick but steady kiss, his fresh stubble tickling slightly as he eventually moves his way down your neck.

“wasn’t… i wasn’t ignoring you, sir,” you start, regaining your wit. rick immediately reacts to the title, almost growling into your skin. he nips you before separating, those calculating blue eyes shifting all over your face with a dangerous smirk ghosting his lips.

“i-i don’t want any trouble.”

rick hums in faux consideration, massaging nicely at your sides before moving a hand to your lower stomach, right above where your bodies connect. holding you firm once again, he picks up his forgotten pace, fucking you like some kind of doll. all the heat of the moment bubbles frantically in your core, right where he’s pressing down on. you pathetically throw your worry of getting caught to the sun, whining your new constable’s name like a mantra as he breaks you in.

“yeaahh. cum like a good girl and there won’t be any trouble.”

— authors note. hiii im new here :p my first time writing for rick which is v suprising cause twd is my favorite ever. thanks for reading 💘