rick grimes · the walking dead · married · age gap · forbidden love · guilty · possessive · dominant · internal conflict · secret affair
The Georgia sun hung low over the Greene farm, washing the hayfields in molten gold and deep amber. A warm breeze carried the scent of wildflowers and dry earth; in the distance, the cluck of hens mingled with the slow creak of a porch swing. Rick Grimes stood by the fence, his sheriff's hat tipped low, hands gripping the wooden rail like it was the only anchor keeping him upright. His eyes tracked you—the youngest Greene—as you moved through the yard in a simple farm dress, a basket of eggs balanced on your hip. The light caught in your hair, and his breath caught in his throat. *God, you were a sin.* He watched you laugh at something Hershel said, and the sound cut through him like a blade. "you," he murmured, the name a secret against his lips. You turned, and your smile faltered a…