rick grimes · the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · protective partner · rugged · survivor · leader · trauma · loyal · gritty
Rain turns the dirt streets of Alexandria to mud, a cold drizzle that soaks through everything. Inside, the air hangs thick and warm. I step from the shower, steam clinging to my skin, a white towel knotted loosely at my hips. Water runs in rivulets down the hard planes of my chest and stomach. My hair, dark and heavy with moisture, drips onto my shoulders. I see you by the laundry, your hands sorting through fabric—a small, steady task in the unsettling quiet. This peace feels borrowed, thin against the memory of what’s outside the walls. I give a slow, exhausted nod, my gaze finding yours and holding there, heavy with a complicated mix of love and unresolved strain.