Could you write something for rick grimes? like stepdad rick
tell me that you'll keep me safe
rick grimes x fem!reader
word count: 3.6k
warning: not proofread, where's lori? i don't know, don't ask me; not here, anyway, our lovely reader is cunning and sly adorable and innocent, and the plot is set during the second season on the greene family farm<33 oh, and there's an age gap, but everything's legal
summary: You're not the one who needs to be helped, yet pretending you do? Surprisingly fun.
a/n: no need to say more! hii<33 thank you so much for that not-really-requesting request, and i mean that because you gave me the space to write something that has been on my mind for a week now!! it’s not a stepdad!rick, but i hope you don’t mind; it’s just i really wanted to write this. i hope you’ll enjoy it anyway (and feel free to drop more detailed stepdad!rick ask, so that i can write your request as best i can!!<3)
pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for
Between everyday chores, laughter danced on the breeze, casting an unusual lightness upon every person at the farm. You hummed a soft tune, losing yourself in the simple joy of gathering wildflowers near the barn. Each delicate petal added to the bouquet, and your wind-tousled hair fluttered in a carefree manner, enhancing your appearance of innocence.
Or, at least, that's what you wanted Rick to believe; in your innocence and vulnerability.
As you plucked the flowers, a playful smile waltzed on your lips, hidden behind a facade of pure illusion. You relished the game you were playing, fully aware of the potency of this delicate act.
Your thoughts wandered, assembling the pieces of your innocent little puzzle, born out of sheer boredom in the world you unexpectedly found yourself living in.
Despite being aware of your strength as a woman, you secretly enjoyed the allure of Rick's caring gaze, surrounding you whenever you fell within his line of sight. Each move you made was a subtle manipulation, inviting him in, conveying your vulnerability while secretly pleasing him with your shrewdness.
The plan was simple; steer clear of guns and walkers, and simply ignore the looks from your family, who, naturally, knew you very well. Your hunger for independence before the outbreak was one thing, but now you found a satisfying enjoyment in the protective embrace with which the older man shielded you. Not to mention that playing the lovely, helpless niece of the farmer brought you a lot of fun.
It was a delicate and subtle cooperation between reality and illusion, a dance where you held the strings without letting them peek.
The sun lounged lazily in the sky, bathing the family farm in a soft glow. It was one of those days when time stretched without urgency, enveloping the world in a cocoon of ease. The morning air carried the tender scent of dewy grass, and the swaying trees whispered tales about the world that was once so familiar to all of you. For a fleeting moment, the chaos beyond the fence—the groans of the walkers—seemed distant, cloaked in a serene atmosphere.
Rick approached you, casting a glance over his shoulder at the rest of the group, each person engrossed in their own tasks. He sidled up next to you, maintaining a respectful distance, and observed you absorbed in your flowery world.
“Hey, shouldn't you be with the others?”
You lifted a surprised gaze, sparkling with calculated innocence, quickly meeting his steady eyes. You had been so entranced by the hum of the melody that his footsteps had gone unnoticed. Catching sight of Rick's familiar face, you offered him a gentle smile and straightened, showing him the flowers clutched in your hand.
“Oh, I was just picking some flowers for the kitchen. They brighten up the place, don't you think?” Your voice carried the soft tone of someone who seems delicate.
While Rick nodded in agreement, he had no intention of leaving you alone here. Despite the familiar faces that showed up in the farmyard every now and then, he wanted to be the one to keep you safe.
“Let me walk you back. It will be safer that way.”
Hearing his words, you fought the urge to roll your eyes and shoot him a look insinuating he was unnecessarily exaggerating the danger. Instead, you just nearly sang out with your soft voice, “But there are no walkers here,” pointing it out before quickly stepping away and crouching by a clump of daisies.
“Maggie asked you to head back to help her trim her hair,” Rick's words lingered as his eyes stayed fixed on you.
You chuckled to yourself, hiding your true feelings behind a mask. You were pretty sure Maggie didn’t actually need your assistance, especially not with a haircut, but playing along was all part of the game to achieve what you were aiming for; his protection and, above all, attention.
You weren't one to treat people as pawns in your game, but when you first set eyes on Rick the day his group arrived at the farm, you couldn't resist the idea of having a little fun.
After all, in this world, everyone was destined to meet their end sooner or later, right?
“Just a few more,” you replied casually, not exactly acknowledging the man's words.
Gathering more flowers for your bouquet, a soft breeze toyed with the delicate fabric of your dress, causing one strap to slip off your shoulder.
Rick's attention quickly shifted to your shoulder when he noticed the strap slipping, but just as swiftly, his gaze returned to your face before flickering toward the flowers you were reaching for.
That strap seemed like a subtle detail, a fleeting imperfection in the flawless image you'd been effortlessly painting all along.
Standing tall, a proud yet gentle smile graced your lips as you lifted the vibrant bouquet, its wildflowers creating a vivid contrast against the soft, bright shades of the dress you were wearing. Rick's protective instincts sharpened instantly at the sight, drawn to shield someone who appeared delicate yet strangely captivating. As you rose, an effortless adjustment to a slipped strap caught his attention, smoothly getting rid of the minor imperfection without a hint of concern.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” you asked, shifting your gaze from the bouquet to Rick's face, awaiting his praise. He simply nodded and gestured towards the house, prompting an eye-rolling chuckle from you.
As you both strolled in the indicated direction, you maintained your composure, your calm demeanor unwavering. However, a mischievous sparkle danced in your eyes when Rick wasn't looking.
The subtle playfulness in your tone and the glint in your eye hinted at a more foxy truth beneath your facade. You enjoyed the sway you held over his protective instincts, delighting in the security and dominance he offered in this unpredictable world.
Back in the cozy warmth of Hershel's kitchen, the wildflowers you had picked now found their place in a rustic vase, their colors standing out against the worn wooden table. The smell of fresh flowers mingled with the aroma of a recently finished breakfast, filling the air.
Rick leaned casually against the door frame, his gaze fixed on you. There was something captivating about the way you delicately arranged the flowers. Catching his eye, you smiled with a playful glint dancing in your eyes.
“Thanks for walking me back, Rick,” you said, your voice as gentle as the petals you'd just arranged. “It's nice having someone who cares.”
Rick nodded, his smile softening. The sight of a man smiling wasn’t common, so you cherished every moment he gifted you with one, even if it was small.
“We gotta look out for each other,” he replied, and you could hear the obvious sincerity in his tone.
As you breezed by him in the doorway, your fingers lightly grazed his rough hand, a touch so delicate it could almost pass as accidental. His eyes met yours, a flare of surprise dancing across his face, but you effortlessly kept up an air of innocence, saying nothing.
Instead, you just made your way toward Maggie's room upstairs, supposedly to lend a hand, humming that familiar tune that lingered in the barn's air before.
Leaning against the hallway wall leading to the kitchen, Shane crossed his arms, quietly observing the entire scene. His sharp eyes tracked your every move, a knowing smile quirking up the corners of his mouth. When you passed by, words weren't necessary—his expression said it all.
He saw through your facade, catching glimpses of your true abilities hidden beneath your innocent front. The playful energy you emitted lingered in his thoughts, and he found himself personally impressed by the subtle game you were playing, deftly toying with Rick's protective instincts.
“Maybe you should teach her how to shoot?” Shane suggested, pushing away from the wall and walking into the kitchen, passing Rick. Before he could react to Shane's unexpected presence (especially considering their increasingly strained relationship), he continued, his tone somewhat mocking. “What if something happens to our little sunshine? You know, there might be times when you can't always be there for her,” he pointed out, particularly emphasizing the term sunshine when referring to you.
Rick pushed himself away from the door frame, ignoring Shane's tone and took a few steps deeper into the kitchen, stopping by the table where a vase sat. He rested one hand on his hip, shifting his weight from one leg to the other.
“Y/N has never held a gun in her life. She won't hit a walker even if it's lying in front of her, waiting for her to shoot him right in the head,” Rick replied, gently caressing the petals of a flower in the vase.
In response, Shane let out a chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. He grabbed a glass from the cupboard, poured water from the tap, and took a sip, turning to face Rick. Leaning against the countertop, he grinned.
“I can’t believe it,” he said, still amused.
Rick furrowed his brow, giving Shane a questioning look. “Believe what?” he asked, seeing that Walsh wasn't planning on elaborating.
“She's playing you, man. Playing you like a fiddle,” he replied with a smirk on his face as he took another sip of water.
Shane walked a few steps, standing on the opposite side of the table. He casually rested his free hand on his pistol at his belt, looking at Rick with a grin. One might think a grown man couldn't be so naive, but clearly, something must have gone awry in his friend's mind.
“Take her to that shooting lesson, or I'll do it and prove she's bluffing” he stated, then without waiting for Rick's response, left the kitchen shaking his head, leaving his friend alone.
You stood on the porch between the two men, fidgeting nervously from foot to foot.
“Are you sure it's safe?” you asked, your worried eyes darting to Rick, your eyebrows gently furrowing, giving yourself an even softer look.
Rick stood beside you, hands on his hips, scanning the courtyard as the sun stretched its rays across the landscape. He turned his gaze to you at your question, a hint of care flickering in his eyes.
“Yes, I'm sure,” he reassured, nodding to emphasize his certainty. “You know nothing's goin’ to happen to you, right? Hershel thinks it's a good idea,” he added.
At the mention of your uncle’s name, you straightened slightly, a glimpse of unease crossing your face briefly. Thankfully, Rick didn't seem to notice, but from the corner of your eye, you caught Shane leaning against the porch railing, shaking his head while releasing a quiet chuckle.
“You talked to him?” you asked, brushing off the other man's reaction.
“Yeah, he seemed a little confused, but,” Rick started, only to be swiftly interrupted by Shane with his seemingly innocent yet biting remark.
“He's probably worried about his favorite niece, isn't he?”
Your gaze shifted to Shane, who looked at you meaningfully with an almost genuine smile playing on his lips. Before you could respond, Rick nodded and cleared his throat before speaking.
“Meet me at the car in twenty minutes, okay? Got something else to take care of,” he said, and as you agreed with a quick nod, he headed toward the tents scattered across the yard where he and his group were staying.
As Rick's figure moved away from the porch, you both remained in silence. Once he was a safe distance away, you turned to his friend, your eyes holding a hint of seriousness and your jaw gently clenched.
“How did you come up with that, huh?” he asked, amusement twinkling in his brown eyes as he crossed his arms.
“I don't know what you're talking about,” you replied shortly, with no intention of elaborating on your actions to anyone.
Shane's laughter was muffled in response, his head slightly tilted back. When he focused on you again, a touch more serious now, he pushed himself off the railing and stepped closer, leaning in slightly.
“You can toy with Rick, it's cool, but not in front of me, sweetheart,” he said, watching your reaction closely. “Seeing you act like a clueless kitten just to get his attention? It's a real pain in the existential department” he added in a slightly softer voice, carefully enunciating each word to make them sink into your head.
You gazed into his eyes silently, pondering how many others had caught onto your little game. It was clear your uncles, Maggie, Beth, and Shawn had noticed your shift around Rick and had commented more than once. But was anyone else in his group as sharp as Shane to see through you?
“Better head upstairs to freshen up,” Shane's teasing tone snapped you back to reality, and you blinked a few times. “Gotta impress Rick, right, sweetheart?” With those words, he strolled past you, heading into the house.
Glancing over your shoulder after him, you let out a deep sigh and shifted your gaze to the side, catching Carl's eye. You flashed him the warmest smile you could muster and raised your hand in a friendly wave in his direction.
“Dad mentioned he'd teach you to shoot today,” the boy said, strolling toward the porch. You closed the distance, meeting him.
“Yeah, we're heading out soon. I'm getting a little stressed,” you chuckled softly, slipping back into the facade momentarily disrupted by Shane.
“You've never shot before?” Carl asked, peering at you from beneath a large sheriff's hat.
“Never had the chance,” you replied, a small tug at the corner of your lips as you bent the truth, shaking your head slightly. Leaning casually against the porch railing, you cast a glance down at the boy.
“It's not too tough, you'll catch on quick,” he reassured you with a genuine smile before heading off.
As he left, you stood there for a moment, taking in the peacefulness of the farm. The gentle buzz of life surrounded you, and you sighed softly, feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders. With a determined shake of your head, you pushed away from the railing and headed towards the barn, the dusty path crunching beneath your boots.
Before meeting Rick at the car, you needed to take a short walk, wanting a moment to yourself before diving into the lesson where you'd have to feign clumsiness, pretending you barely know how to hold a gun in your hands.
“Focus, Y/N,” you heard Rick's voice coming from not too far behind you. There was a hint of annoyance in it, but Rick was trying hard to keep his emotions in check. He was definitely better than you, and it was clear he wanted you to learn something from this lesson. If someone under your care had been messing up like this, you'd have hopped into the car long ago, heading back to the farm and leaving them to their own fate. It was a bit of a natural selection.
You turned to Rick, wearing a defeated expression, and lowered your gun. “This is too hard, Rick,” you complained, puffing out your lower lip in a delicate manner.
A tired sigh escaped him, followed by Rick stepping closer, his gaze calm as he looked down at you. “Alright, let's give it another try, shall we?” he asked, and in that moment, it felt like you were seven years old again, sitting at the kitchen table with your dad trying to teach you math.
Rick stepped closer, his eyes studying the way you held his revolver. He adjusted your grip, his touch firm yet gentle. “See, Y/N, it's all about balance,” he explained, standing right behind your back, his voice calm and steady. “You want your feet shoulder-width apart, like this,” he positioned your feet, his closeness making you hyper-aware of his presence. “And hold the gun steady, elbows slightly bent. It gives you better control.”
You nodded, trying to focus on his instructions, but it was hard with him so close. Even though you were perfectly fine with a gun, suddenly all your knowledge and muscle memory just flew out of your body. You could feel the warmth radiating from his body, and it sent a shiver down your spine.
“Now, line up your shot. Take a deep breath,” he continued, his breath brushing against your ear as he spoke. “And when you're ready, squeeze the trigger gently.”
You followed his guidance, trying to ignore the tingling sensation his closeness caused. The gun felt more stable in your hands, and you took a deep breath, feeling Rick gently move back, giving you space. You slowly let the air out and squeezed the trigger as the man instructed.
The shot rang out, hitting the target dead center.
“There you go,” Rick praised, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “You just needed a little adjustment.”
For a moment, you gazed at the shot can in silence, a brief worry crossing your mind that this one accurate gunshot might have shattered the delicate image, which you had been working on since the first days of Rick's group on the farm.
Lowering the revolver slowly, you mustered a happy smile, then turned to Rick with skillfully feigned excitement.
“I did it!” you exclaimed, watching the smile that appeared on the man's face.
“I knew you could do it,” he replied, nodding his head in appreciation. “Now try again, but without my help.”
As you prepared for your second attempt, determined to maintain the facade, a sudden noise echoed through the trees – a guttural growl followed by clumsy footsteps. Both you and Rick turned toward the disturbance, realizing it was not just the forest's regular sounds.
“Walkers,” Rick muttered, a sense of urgency in his voice.
You clutched the revolver tightly, and your true nature came out on your face as you stared seriously into the wall of trees from behind which the noise was coming. Rick, left with only a knife, looked around for a potential threat, stepping out in front of you and protecting you with his own body, even though you were the one holding the weapon that could help you.
“Stay close,” Rick instructed, the earlier playfulness fading from his tone.
The groans grew louder, and shadows emerged from the edges of the forest. Panic set in, and you knew that your delicate act wouldn't cut it in the face of real danger. With a deep breath, you took aim over Rick's shoulder at the approaching walkers. The gun bucked in your hands, and the bullet found its mark, hitting a walker square in the head.
Shock crossed Rick's face as the undead figure crumpled to the ground.
“Nice shot,” he said, stealing a quick glance at you. Yet, there wasn't time for praise. More walkers were coming, drawn by the noise.
In a blur of movement, you kept shooting, stepping closer to the horde of the dead, each shot finding its target flawlessly. The walkers fell one by one, halted in their tracks by your accurate shots.
As the chaos settled, you stood there, adrenaline still coursing through your veins, chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. Rick's eyes remained fixed on you, a blend of awe and confusion reflecting in his gaze. Lowering the revolver with a trembling hand, you avoided meeting his eyes. This unplanned revelation had caught you off guard; you hadn't intended to expose yourself so quickly.
The air hung thick with silence, the only disruption the faint rustle of leaves. Finally, Rick broke the quiet, his voice softer now, edged with a hint of curiosity. “You're not as innocent as you made everyone believe, are you? Is that why Hershel seemed surprised when I mentioned teaching you to shoot?”
Your hand trembled as you held out the revolver to Rick, choosing silence over words.
"We should head back," you suggested, your voice an attempt to diffuse the mounting tension. With a sidelong glance at Rick—allowing yourself just a moment of eye contact—you turned toward the car.
You didn't want to talk about what had just happened. You found yourself in the role of a liar, but wasn't that exactly what you were? Playing along, crafting an image to draw the protective care of an older man, the attention you'd been missing since the apocalypse broke out.
As you walked, you couldn't shake the growing sense of shame. How were you supposed to look into Rick's eyes now, knowing the truth had slipped through the cracks of your carefully constructed facade?
The car was a welcome sight, a haven of familiar metal and worn seats. You climbed in, the door shutting out the remnants of tension that clung to the air outside.
Rick joined you, the silence stretching between you two like an unspoken agreement. The engine roared to life, drowning out any attempt at conversation. The only sound that permeated the vehicle was the rhythmic hum of tires against the gravel.
As the landscape passed by in a blur, you stole another glance at Rick. His expression was unreadable, a mix of understanding and something else you couldn't quite pinpoint. The tension remained, settling into the fabric of the car like an unwelcome passenger.
Neither of you spoke and the truth lingered in the air, a silent companion on the journey back to the farm.
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