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livingdeadgirlflorette · 7 days ago

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YOUR FACE ⟡₊⋆∘ carl grimes x fem!reader

summary : with this weird dynamic between helping Carl smoke, tension-filled silence, and longing looks— maybe this time together might be where unspoken words aren't left unsaid.

word count : 4.9k

tags / rundown : fluff, slightly suggestive, smoking, awkward first kiss, confessions, kissing, inaccurate depiction of how smoking affects people, reader isn't good at feelings

a / n : This was in my drafts for such a long time oml! anyways the tile is based of the song "your face" by wisp, I just really liked the song with this :3 this isn't as long as my other fics but I hope you enjoy just as equally <3

dividers by me ! ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

PART 1: SO HIGH ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

The smoke that fills Carl's lungs from your mouth gives him another familiar hazy feeling. It's been an unarguable routine from the two of you— whenever you guys get too overstimulated from the Alexandrian kids or just from the adults, you both go to the same clearing you guys met, sit down next to each other, Carl brings his comics to read and you bring your cigarettes.

And something that he'll always look forward to is you helping him smoke. The feeling of your hand holding his face, keeping him steady and blowing the puff you took into his mouth, him taking it in and breathing it out— all the while you both stare into each other's gaze. But as soon as he's done with the drag, you're eyes leave his— going back to your own devices.

your character had bemused him; how one second you both are sharing an intimate moment, holding him softly and with a fondness, and the next you're behaving like nothing had ever even happened.

Carl wanted to dispel that indifference you'd been feigning— that stoic face you'd been masquerading in and out of the walls. He desired to know what was behind all those barriers of distance you'd made to keep yourself safe. He wanted to know you. The real you.

"You know, I think you're ready to take off your training wheels and do it yourself, cowboy." If it wasn't already evident in the sluggish tone, you were relaxed from the amount of puffs you'd been doing already. Lifting your hand and pulling yourself away from him, he stops you by gripping your forearm. He had never done this before, and the unfamiliarity of it had startled you— but then registering his touch had your mind involuntary give you chills in your spine. It felt good, him holding you.

Carl didn't want you to pull away; he wanted to stay forever like this, with your face close and in his space. But he'd have to start saying it before he loses the chance.

"I think I'll need a few more practice runs." He stated boldly. Carl didn't really know what he was trying to say when he blurted that out. All he knew was that he wanted to keep your face close to his. He tilted his head and looked at your lips, before looking back to meet your startled gaze— but as quickly as it had shown on your face, you painted over a mask of nonchalance.

You let out a chuckle. Carl was always one to speak his mind about things, but he always seemed timid when approaching this. You like this side of him. With your free hand, you take another drag of the cigarette before putting in out. With his gaze studying you close, you blow the smoke in his face.

He definitely didn't expect that, because he let go of you forearm and waved his hands in front of his hands to get rid of the waft of smoke from his face. Despite all of this, he still managed to laugh at it.

"Maybe another time." You dismissed. You stand up and look down at him, clueless that he'd been left in the dust. "We gotta get back before they notice, remember?" You finish fixing yourself up before reaching out a hand at his still sat position.

". . ." Carl didn't know how to feel, he looks at the hand reaching out to him and back at you. ". . .Right." He finishes his contemplation and grabs your hand, getting support from you to stand up. He pats himself down to get rid of the dirt on his pants and flannel.

"I'll start walking back. Stay close, okay?" Your voice lets out a stable tone. Hesitant, he nods and goes back to tidy himself up and the comics strewn about on the grass. With that, you turn to the direction of Alexandria and start your walk.

With you figure walking away, Carl was left to drown in his own thoughts. He felt. . . dismayed? All you did was dismiss him but he felt like you threw his heart away doing it. He knew he shouldn't feel like this. He didn't have any right to, you guys weren't anything— You guys were just friends who helped the other smoke, but he didn't want just that. He wanted more. Carl looks back at your decreasing figure before finishing up and jogging to you, matching your pace and falling in step next to you.

He's gonna say something to you about it. He doesn't know when, but he will. He can't stand just being smoking buddies with you— he wants more.

"So. . . do you wanna tell me something you've been hiding from me?" Rick's voice cuts the silence of the dinner table, overpowering the clanking and screeching of utensils against the plates. Carl's movement of taking a spoon of his food slows with his gaze locking with his father's—but then, just as swiftly, he goes back to his normal act, breaking the eye contact.

"I don't know what you mean." He tries to act and put on an air of nonchalance, playing up an act and pretending nothing had happened—just like you do when you and him are in the forest clearing. Carl had never intended for you and him hanging out outside the walls a secret; however, with the fact that his father wanted the best for his son and still tries to show good towards him, he feels like Rick wouldn't be too happy if he found out his son was going outside the gates and smoking—maybe even worse when he finds out he's doing all of that for a girl.

". . ." Rick's eyes are trained on his son in contemplation quietly, watching every calculated movement his son does to see any tick of movement that would give him the assumption of nervousness. He already knew his son was hiding something—but he didn't take him as the type to lie about it; he just wanted to see if he'd tell him the truth.

"Sure then," Rick said. "If that's the case, I guess you wouldn't mind telling me about that girl you go on prancing around outside with?" And with the question alone, Carl stops his next move and fully becomes attentive.

How did his father know? He thought he was good at keeping up his face, but that inquiry from his father left his vocabulary in shambles.

"There's no—what? I don't know what you're—listen, whatever you're trying to say, I— . . . Okay, how did you find out?" Carl blurts out before he deadpans before dropping his utensils in defeat. He figured that trying to defend himself would make things worse, so he'd rather get straight to the point. He isn't going to get anything good out of dodging his dad's interrogation, but he needs to know how he knew first before he tells him.

"It was Tara's turn to keep watch in the tower," Carl should've known. With all the teasing looks he got from her whenever she talked about girls to him and how he would listen intently, he figured maybe Tara was just in a chipper mood these days, but he guessed he was wrong.

"She saw you and the other kid climb the back walls and walk away." His father finished. Carl didn't want to explain to his father why he did it; it'll just send him into a pit of shame. But he figures he'll have to cross that bridge when his father gets to it.

"Now I'm going to ask you this again, and don't lie to me," Rick leans back in his chair, a domineering aura surrounding him. You'd think he'd look all serious and stern—but with Judith squirming and cooing in his lap, it made him less authoritarian and more father-like.

"Do you wanna tell me something you've been hiding from me?" Rick's voice lowered, wanting an actual direct answer from Carl, not the 'I don't know what-you're-talking-about' bullshit he was spewing earlier.Carl didn't know what to say. If he was going to tell his father the truth, he'd have to open up to him about you. And that's hard enough on his own, but to his dad? He doesn't know how that'll go. But it's better now than never. So with a deep, defeated sigh—he starts.

"There's a girl I hang out with, just a few minutes outside the walls from here," Carl recalls the first time you'd met each other and how he told you how smoking was going to kill you. Oh, how much he laughs in his head at the thought of that, especially since he smokes with you now. With Carl finally confessing what Rick wanted him to say, his domineering stance softens, and he adjusts Judith on his lap—who was still moving around, now trying to grab his father's finger using her hands.

"We go to a clearing, and just talk there. She's—. . ." Carl's words pause. He was unsure what to call her; it would be weird calling her an acquaintance since they know each other more than that, and it would be even more peculiar to come out of his mouth calling her a friend—knowing what they've done together.

"She's something else." He finished. There wasn't a word that they could call what they were, and Carl couldn't think of one for the life of him. She really was something else.

"Well—I thank you for being honest with me that time," Rick adjusts himself to help Judith sit properly. "But I wanna know something else." He breathes softly through his nose, readying himself to ask.

"Why?" From the start, when the world fell to shit, Rick knew his son wouldn't be the same as he was before—his character would grow up to be more mature and stoic, having to leave the childlike nature he shortly had and take over this stone-faced disposition. He was forced to forget he was just a boy.

But, with the time that he'd been with that girl, Rick noticed Carl would be less tense, he'd laugh more, and he'd even let out a genuine smile without worry. Something that you had whenever you were with him had turned him back and made him experience what it felt like just to be a teenager. What it felt like to not be always vigilant, just relaxed and content.Carl was left speechless. Just like he couldn't think of what to call what you and him were, he didn't know why he was hanging out with you. Well, he did know; he just didn't want to say it. If he did, he'd have to acknowledge how all of your experiences with him in the forest were something more for him.

"I—I just, like her. She's good company." That was all Carl could say, before scooping another morsel of food and eating it. One confession mixed with another and a half-assed excuse. He knew his father was better to believe just that, but he also knew he wouldn't prod at him anymore.

Rick could read his son like a book. He knew that wasn't just the reason; that girl had done so much for him that Carl didn't even realize it, and he knew his son would think much more about what she was to him, but he knew Carl should let him figure it out himself—rather than condemning him for it. With a fatherly chuckle, he leans a little with the toddler in his arms to pat his son on the shoulder, letting a gentle squeeze.

"I bet she is. But tell her something before you do something stupid." That was all his father said before standing up and bringing Judith with him, walking up to the front door—presumably to sit on the porch with her. Carl seemed to notice that. With the amount of walls they were in, he saw his father felt safe enough to just enjoy the smallest of things, like how he'd just enjoy being with his daughter.

But after finishing his pondering about his father, his father's words rang in his head. 'Tell her something.' Should he? One side of his heart that still believed there was good in this world—how there is still hope in this—told him he should; he should tell her everything he wanted to let out—how entrancing her lips were when they were inches apart from his, how her presence alone could calm all the thundering thoughts pounding in his brain.

But the other side of his that was marred, cynical, and closed-off tells him he shouldn't; well, everything was going great for them, so why should he have the audacity to let himself ruin it? If he did something to shatter that with you, ruin the experiences you already had with him and in the future that you'd have with him just because he decided to do something he wasn't even sure if you'd reciprocate—he'd never forgive himself.

Carl was a mess, and he knew he was. All his thoughts were drowning in confusion just because your person was so enthralling. Your carefree personality and how you let him do the things he thought he could've never done—you were everything he wanted. He wanted you so badly.

But how would he tell you? You seemed so close, yet so distant. All those memories of being close with him and talking about the most nonsensical topics just for the sake of keeping the conversation going were layered on by the other set of events that follow—how after everything you've been through with him, you seemed to shut down—how you didn't allow yourself to get too comfortable with anyone, even him. How whenever you and him pause to get lost in each other's gaze, you flutter your eyes and pull away.

You looked afraid—you seemed to abhor letting people in, seeing who you were when you were vulnerable. Carl despised it. How it felt like you were close and far at the same time, all together. It was like you guys were at a standstill, and he wanted to stop the limbo your character put your relationship in. He needed an answer from you, even if it had the chance of breaking whatever you guys had with each other.

He dropped his fork. God damn it, with all the brainstorming in his mind about how to approach the thought of telling you, he had lost the appetite to eat. With a frustrated sigh, he picks up both his and his father's plates to put in the sink—going to wash it. He'll have to dwell on it later. Right now, he needs to distract himself from the mindless routine of washing the dishes—just to take his mind off it, off of you.

With the passing of the cigarette smoke, Carl looks back at your face. He wonders if he should listen to the wise words of his father and tell her the truth. But he's scared. He laughs at the thought; after all these years of living and surviving through this wretched apocalypse and off all things, the one thing he was most scared of was losing you. It was ridiculous to him; he's done heinous acts just to keep going in this cycle of life—yet he thinks that confessing what he felt to you would be the end of his world.

"What's wrong, you look?" You tilt your head in inquiry, visibly confused. Carl didn't even notice that you'd seen him staring at you, observing you like this would be the last time he'd ever see you.

"Sad. Or you could just be constipated with how concentrated you look."

Even with the amount of things he's been feeling about you and pondering the aftermath of what could happen if he told you—you still managed to make him let out a chuckle.

"I was thinking." Carl huffs a breath out. He was thinking, thinking of what you'd say. Without skipping a beat, you follow up on what he had said. "Thinking about what?"

As you ask, you take a drag of the lit stick of tobacco and gently grab his chin, just like you always did. No matter the repetitiveness, he'll always welcome that hazy feeling of you getting close.

But before you get to exchange the smoke in your mouth, he places his hand over yours that was holding him, looking at you with such a focus that could burn through your eyes. With his action, your movements halt from being startled, and you involuntarily let the puff in your mouth out slowly.

"This." Carl looked into your gaze. Just like the last time you were this close, you had pulled away. But you aren't sure if you'd like that. "I was thinking about you."

With the confession leaving the tip of his tongue, your face formed a light flush. Carl was always forward with you about things, but never this upfront about his feelings for you. Contrary to his belief, you know. You knew what he felt, ever since he had started to smoke with you.

Even though he was going through the same burden as you, he felt like he had to be there with you first. You hated it. You didn't hate Carl; you hated how you felt about it and how it felt with him. How you let the walls of your heart come down when it came to him, even after everything that you swore would never break. With a doubtful look slowly painting your face, you can't help but try to distance yourself from him.

"Oh. That's. . . interesting." With a heavy feeling, your vision goes to anywhere but his, finally breaking the chain of eye contact you'd been sharing in the blanket of silence. "I've been thinking too, about— stuff." You had muttered awkwardly, saying anything that comes out of your mind, just to fill the awkward silence.

"You think you can tell me?" Even with your eyes off him, you can still feel his perceptive gaze. Carl didn't want you to crawl back into that timid disposition you always had put up; he wanted you to open up to him—let him in that mind of yours.

"If I say it," you paused. "It's going to ruin everything." Your voice had barely let out the last sentence, your tone trembling. Your heart wanted to tell Carl everything—how your body felt flush whenever he did something to gauge a reaction from you, how you wanted his body near you—not just from helping him smoke—but more than that.

But would saying what you had wanted ruin the relationship that was one of the only highlights of surviving in this apocalypse? Will saying what you had dreamed of saying destroy what he had thought of you?

But with your self-doubt clouding your mind and making your body still, you had barely registered the warmth of Carl's hand on yours, holding it with such care you'd think of it more of an intimate gesture. With a gentle call of your name, he assures you.

"Hey, nothing you do will ruin—" Carl paused, unsure if he should state it as what they are. Friends? He isn't even sure at this point. "-will ruin us, okay? I won't get mad."

"I'm not expecting you to be mad," you counter. "I expect that you'll feel betrayed." You finished. If Carl didn't reciprocate what you felt, you were sure he'd be confused. Would he think that all you did with him was just an elaborate ruse to get him closer to you? You weren't certain, but you had an idea it would go down that route if he did.

"If you aren't sure how to tell me, then show me." Carl tilts his head, coyly lacing his time. Whenever he does those mannerisms, you always thought he looked cute. He didn't look like a stone-faced killer that was brought upon this apocalypse anymore, but just a teenager going through regular stuff, feeling normal things.

With that, you contemplate. You were irritated at yourself for not saying anything; it was as if your heart was in your mouth—disabling you from telling what you desired. But with a deep breath, you lean in close to Carl—his eyes going wide for a second, then adjusting to this newfound distance.

Carl knows he shouldn't be nervous; you've been in his vicinity close to him like this dozens of times. But with this unexplored feeling brewing in his stomach, he feels like he should be—because you were going to do something else.

"Don't—don't freak out, okay?" Your voice is so close to him, it makes his ears flush red. He's lucky he had long hair; he was sure you'd tease him for it if you had seen them.

The tension felt thick, just like all the times you had been close to his lips, mere centimeters away. Sometimes you wish that the times you were that close you'd just lean in and kiss him, but inevitably you always pull away.

And just like that, you realize that your embarrassment gets the better of you again. You pull away slowly; you think this is stupid. You shouldn't have done that. You turn away, one of your hands covering your face that was starting to burn up.

"I-uh, sorry, I think I should go back, yeah. I'm sorry—" Your face turned back to his. But before you could let out another apology, a pair of soft lips had met yours, your eyes fluttering shut.

Carl had kissed you. You had dreamt of what it felt like to kiss him. But now that it was actually happening, you felt so surreal. With a hesitant state, you tested the waters and kissed him back, a light push to see what it felt. His lips were chapped, understandable since chapstick didn't seem like a necessity in the apocalypse, but his lips felt gentle.

When you felt the absence of soft pressure on your lips, you fluttered your eyes at him. You were sure your cheeks were burning at this point; it was uncontrollable. Once you guys were at a normal sitting distance from one another, you finally piped up.

"That was, uh, good." Your voice barely above a whisper. Both your gazes found one another, and then, with heat creeping up your neck, you had looked away.

"Thank you, I guess...?" Confusion had still not left your tone. With this, you were also perplexed by your own words. What were you thankful for?

"Why are you thanking me?" Carl's voice didn't seem to miss a beat, going back to his playful self. You were thankful for this—how he could always help lighten your guys' mood even when it was awkward.

"I don't know, okay!" You let out a genuine laugh. "I've never had to think about what to say after. . . that." Your eyes met his. He seemed to have a glint in his eye, telling you all you needed to know that he was planning something mischievous.

"Well. . ."

"Yeah. . ."

This was one of the things that made you abhor having to actually commit to kissing him—the aftermath. What would become of you and Carl? Would it be just unbearably awkward, and you'd never have enough courage to look him in the face again? Or would it help express your blossoming feelings towards you and him?

"I've always liked you, y'know?" Carl speaks up first—his tone soft and careful, breaking the silence you both have been dreading. But with just a few words of confession, he seemed to melt through that weird tension that had permeated through the space between you.

"I know—or like I. . . knew, I guess?" Your voice comes out meek, nervous about what was still happening.

His face went slack—his face contorting to shock and embarrassment, with a noticeable flush of red rising up his ears.

"Wait wha-? How did you even-what. . .?!" His voice was getting higher, something you picked up on when he was getting nervous.

With a small giggle, you answer his question. "It doesn't take a detective to find out you like me, Carl. You were quite obvious." Your face grows a smirk, creating a playful atmosphere.

He looks away with another wave of shyness. This was disastrous. Was he really that obvious? "It couldn't have been that obvious." With a slow turn, he looks back at you. ". . .right?"

"Do you really think you were that slick? You looked." You paused, unsure whether to say what actually was on your mind. He looked in love, but you figured you shouldn't—it would be too fast.

". . . nevermind. It's just that eyes don't lie, Carl, and the way you look at me—it seems very telling." You end your sentence with a smile. With everything out of the bag, you felt light as a feather—with nothing left to hide from him.

"If you knew then, why did you stop?"

"What?" His question seemed vague, out of nowhere.

"Why didn't you kiss me?" Carl was sure you could tell his heartbeat going haywire, feeling the vibration of it beating up to the tips of his ears. He sounded so desperate, but he didn't care. All he wanted right now was an answer.

"Oh! Uh. . ." You didn't expect how much he looked like he was yearning, waiting for something, anything from you. Saying you were scared would be embarrassing, but with everything you and Carl already did, there didn't seem like anything else to do but go forward and be honest with him.

"It's a stupid reason," you say, looking up at him, with bashfulness filling your face.

Without skipping a beat, Carl's hand had already gone to yours to intertwine. He didn't seem to know it, but that simple gesture was already melting away that air of dread that was coercing you to not say it.

"If what you're going to say is stupid, then what does that make what we did?" His eye had a glint of wit that he always had when he wanted to cheer you up, encouraging you to go on.

With your free hand and the still-lit cigarette in hand, you take a long drag. It was funny to you how this small stick of nicotine used to be the only thing of happiness that helped you get through it—to go on and keep living. But now, the thing that was your hope and joy in this world was right next to you.

"A bad idea?" You finally answer his rhetorical question.

With a dry chuckle, he looks to you and just gazes. He never thought that you'd feel the same way, let alone reciprocate kissing him. He felt like the happiest he's ever been since coming to Alexandria.

"I felt," Your mouth opens to let out another word, but you shut it quickly. Taking a deep breath and looking at the sky. "Afraid and. . . guilty is what I'd put as how I felt about you, I guess."

"Why would you feel that way?"

"'Cause it's you!" You look back at him, incredulous, and your hands gesture to his whole character.

"You and me, we were cool, y'know? And we just hung out; everything was going fine, and I didn't want to ruin. . ." You then gestured to both of you. "This, I suppose."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh. I told you it was stupid." You look back at the golden hour of the sky, then just slump. It felt freeing telling him that, but it also filled you with shyness. This whole situation just made you want to get eaten by walkers alive and just sink into the world.

"I don't think it's stupid." His free hand goes to fix the loose hair that fell to your face and tuck it to your ear. The fact that his hand was ever so close to your face had your skin burn up so fast you're sure he already sees your skin blushing.

"I think it's cute."

Your eyes went shocked, but then quickly roll your eyes at the cheesy reply.

"Oh, just shut it already." You both giggle and simply bask in the playful mood that was created.

"No, I'm c'mon seriously!"

"You being 'serious' isn't you laughing, Carl." You smile and laugh as you say your quip. With a smile on his face and a shake of his head, you continue your tyrant of laughter.

But your laughter had come to a halt when he had lifted his head and held both your wrists, and he had said your name. "I like you, okay? You're so good to me, and you're such a comfort to come to when I need solace, and I just. . ."

As if the tables had turned, now he was the one losing his words, them dying at his throat.

"I just need you; is that enough? Can I please be with you?"

"If I ever say no to that, I think I'd need a checkup from our clinic."

Your response went out as fast as he had asked, eager and happy that he had finally decided that he wanted to be with you.

"Yes, I mean." With a final look from one another just looking into each other's gaze full of love and admiration, you both take a shy push in and finally kiss again, something you think you'll never grow tired of. But Carl pulls away just a breath away from your lips, wanting to get one last word in that he knows you won't ever forget—before he goes back in for more.

"I'm never gonna let you go."

woowee!! it's been a hot minute since I've posted! sorry guys for all of the people that were waiting for me to post when I never did, right now I've been really into my academics and I'm elbow deep into like 4 pending submissions to pass next week lolol!!11 anyways sorry for the rambling, I hope you enjoyed reading! ✮⋆˙ what did you think of this? don't be a silent reader and let me know ⭑.ᐟ

tags: @carlslvr @shadowybasementmiracle @kawliflo @xictoriiaa

wanna be tagged the next time I post my fics? tell me so I can ꩜ .ᐟ

#carl grimes x fem!reader #carl grimes x reader #twd #carl grimes #the walking dead #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes x y/n #the walking dead x reader #twd x reader #carl grimes x you #𓂃🖊 — florette's fics

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livingdeadgirlflorette · 1 month ago

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I just am in love with your fics but I was curious if you could write some where the reader is male? Male reader X Carl fics are like non existent 😞

Thank you so much for this ask! Unfortunately, I don't really see myself writing for a male reader. My fics are written for a fem!reader, mainly 'cause I write these for myself and writing for male!reader fics aren't really my thing (⁠;⁠ŏ⁠﹏⁠ŏ⁠) I'm sorry to disappoint, love (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

#carl grimes x fem!reader #carl grimes x reader #twd #carl grimes x y/n

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livingdeadgirlflorette · 2 months ago

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Right now, I'm going through writer's block huhuhu ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;)⁭ but I just can't help but show you a small sneak peek of what I've been writing for "so high" (๑>◡<๑)!

(ignore the gold grammarly bars, I use it to see if I have any spelling mistakes lol)

⁭

#carl grimes #carl grimes x fem!reader #carl grimes x reader #the walking dead #twd #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes x y/n #the walking dead x reader #carl grimes x you #twd x reader

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livingdeadgirlflorette · 2 months ago

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YOU KNOW WHERE TO FIND ME ⊹˚. ♡. ݁ ˖ carl grimes x fem! reader

summary : With Carl's dream's being invaded by a girl of all things, curiosity gets the best of him when he sees her pass by in real time— and he couldn't just let her slip away just like in his dreams, not this time.

word count : 6.2k

tags / rundown : fluff, strangers to ???, reader is a sucker for cute boys, carl is confused, carl doesn't know how to talk to girls, reader is an archer and all that jazz

a / n : i'm not really sure if i like the theme, but the tv girl theme just had to be made with the fic >< I think I really like Y/N and Carl's relationship here! i'm definitely gonna make a part 2 to this ^^ also thank you again for the support! I didn't think my fics would get a lot of traction but here we are! I love each and every single one of you from the bottom of my heart (*≧∀≦)

dividers by me ! ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

"Be careful, alright?" Rick places Carl's hat on his head, squeezing his shoulder lovingly then pulling him in for a hug.

Carl knows he shouldn't feel down, but with his father getting all caring for him now that he was going on his first solo run he couldn't help but let his parent-like tendencies out.

"I'll keep a vigilant eye out for you, okay Dad?" Carl assures his father. They both pull away and they say bye to each other at the gate, waiting for the gate to fully close to have one last glimpse at one another.

When the walls finally shut and he's officially seperated, Carl gets into the car that was supplied by the community; he's quite smug about it, knowing how to drive a car and all (he literally wouldn't stop bragging to Enid about it, who was praying to any deity out there for him to stop).

Driving was like second nature to him, it was therapeutic to say the least. There was nobody and to bug him about, at least when he was driving. That's what he loved most about it; no questions, no thoughts, just the stable whirring of the car engine and the stepping of the pedal harder every once in a while. But sometimes the silence and calm gets shrouded by a storm of thoughts he never could get to cease, even in the comfort of his own room.

On the off chance that Carl was relaxed and tired enough, he'd pass through the gateways of his mind and slip into his dreams. From the amount of times that it'd been there whenever he did dream, there was a constant variable that he would always expect when coming into the languid dimension of sleep.

It was always the same event; he would always have a blurry vignette of a vision of him on an unspecified person's bed— yet he felt heavy, not being able to move. The only thing he could barely move was his eyesight.

From his impaired vision he could see a woody ceiling, one that you'd see from a regular house made from tree. Multiple graphic posters on the wall, yet he could see the familliar colors of the comic franchise he was actively reading.

Looking around, he could only see the blurred vision of candles and oil lamps surrounding him. And the one thing that was always there was a girl; sitting on the edge of the bed, tending to presumably some kind of wound he'd have on his head.

The countless times he has been there, he tried to clear his vision from the lethargy-induced haze to make out some kind of features on your face. But to no avail— all he could remember was the warmth of your hand tending to him, using the back of your hand to check his forehead.

Carl tried to stop it, he swears he did. He tried prohibit himself from getting used to the comfort of the looping dream, because that's what they were. Just dreams— yet his mind seemed to betray his body, subconsciously opening the door of the scene of girl in that house, tending to him with such care. He guesses since there was no stopping it, he'd rather just indulge himself in it.

But before Carl could let himself dig deeper into the unanswerable questions he had, he barely registered the stable whirring of the car had ceased. He logically looked at the fuel gauge, seeing it empty.

"Fuck. . ." He muttered with his voice low. How could he have forgotten to bring extra gas?

Sighing frustrated, he grabs the fire-red fuel container from the passenger seat and got out of the car— He figured he'd just have to look for gas farther from here, since there didn't seem to be any sign of cars anywhere near where he was. With a bored expression on his face, he put his bag on his shoulders with fuel container in hand, and he sets out south. Going in one direction would be better, he could easily make his way back.

Even with the constant cricket of bugs and the sound of moaning of walkers he'd pass through, Carl's mind seemed to rebel him; his thoughts going back to the girl that was tending to him in his restless dreams. But he figured that maybe it wasn't too bad, cause he remembered another variable he saw in his dream, and that was a recurve bow, lying just a few feet away from the blurry-faced girl.

That was something that he'd always get irritated by— how no matter how hard he squints his eyes until it makes his dream-self's mind hurt, the frosted vision of his never clears to see even a feature of her face.

From all his thinking, he didn't even realize the terrain his feet were walking on had changed. He comes across a small town a few minutes away, he never knew there was one—and how close it was to Alexandria. He'd be sure to tell his Dad about it later.

He walks through the empty streets, trying to find any sign that there could be gas somewhere, anywhere. With nothing to show for it, Carl thinks next best thing he should do is find food, pills, or anything at this point. He guesses he'll have to stay for a day, recoup and make a plan how to get back. Right now he was stranded in an abandoned town, at least he could try finding something, or somewhere to help him get through the night.

Carl decided a first stop wouldn't hurt to be a department store, but he bangs on the glass doors, waiting a few for any sign of walkers. When nothing happened, he pushes through the doors. Almost everything on the shelves were on the floor, but it looked to be all sealed.

Just like clockwork, he gets to checking the items on the shelves and puts a few items in his bag, then going on one of his knees to kneel and observe the dropped items— looking at labels seeing if it could still be usable. But before he could do anything more, he saw a singular figure passing by with a weapon he was sure engraved in his memory by now— a recurve bow. But through the frosted glass of the entrance, just like in his sleep— and just as fast as it came, the figure was gone.

His eyebrows furrowed— why would someone still be here? He swore there was no sign of life and no use to be here, the town was practically wiped of anything. Did he miss something? But more importantly— why did the figure have a recurve bow that looked exactly the same in his dreams? He needed to get to the bottom of this.

With a light pace, he opens the door to the creaky glass entrance as quiet as he could and goes to follow the person. He thinks it's a girl though, seeing a brief glimpse of their attributes, and no walker had normal footsteps and walked that brisk. He ensues his trail, wanting to find out— who was this girl?

Carl knows he shouldn't, he should turn back and keep looking for stuff he could use for tonight, but there was some kind of alluring aura— pulling him in and making him want more than just a passing view. He doesn't pay mind to how he should be looking for items to bring back to Alexandria, but that's a problem he'll cross later.

After a good while of walking, he's sure this girl had some kind of problem, 'cause she would've heard him by how many twigs and sticks he's stepped on. It's either she knows she's being followed by him, or she simply doesn't care. That conclusion eludes him.

But he guesses he should've have kept a vigilant eye as he said to his father last time he saw him, because once they made it in the dense forest, the girl's figure was getting harder and harder to spot. Maybe it's cause he's still adjusting to his new perspective with having one eye now, but focusing on one singular moving object through a mess of fauna is harder than it was last time he remembered.

But he had another problem to deal with now. One moment the girl was in his sights, then the next she was gone. It was like she was never there, and he was just following some kind of higher entity. He was dumbfounded, and it was prominent on his face. Maybe his eyesight was playing with him?

She was just there! Where could she have gone?

Before he could think anymore rhetorical questions, last thing he had seen with his vision before going black was him falling down. He knew it was a bad idea abandoning the town and following this stranger, but maybe he just dug himself a hole he couldn't get out of.

You were worried for your life, to put it short. You were just going through the town a walk away from the cabin, with just your recurve bow and your scavenging bag. You thought it would be a quick sweep, easy and light. But once you made it out of that town and started by going to the direction of your camp, you were starting to hear footsteps.

It was scary enough that it was constant, not stumbling or moaning behind you. But that was what worried you even more— if a walker wasn't behind you it was a person; and people were far more dangerous than walkers in this world.

Trying to steady you're breathing, you think what could you possibly do to get out if this predicament you're in. 'Should I run?' If I do, the person will probably run after me. 'I'll fight then.' But you aren't sure if their stronger than you, and you don't want to find out. 'Maybe sneak around him in the forest?' Your panicked thoughts ceased momentarily.

You could try, going back to the camp you'd get to a densely packed forest— and most probably you know the way around it more than the person behind you does.

Trying to steady your breathing, you grip your bow just a little tighter when you see the forest getting thicker. It's now or never. You walk a little more just to find somewhere you can sneak under, then acting on it when the moment's right.

You see him from behind, looking left and right for you, but you stop his movements by using the back of your bow to hit his head— not enough to add permanent injury, but enough to cause a major headache when he wakes up.

When his body falls to the ground, you're still in a hostile stance, but your actions soften when you realize he isn't getting up anytime soon.

With a careful hand, you turn him around on the ground by grabbing his shoulder. What's before your eyes slightly shocks you. It was just a boy— you're age, if not older than you. He had long soft hair, as if he had just showered not too long ago. You wonder how he kept it looking like that, especially with freshwater scarce now.

But what caught your attention the most was his bandage. It was wrapped around his forehead to help support the gauze on his eye. His eye. It was covered, but you could barely see peeking out of his bandage was slight scarring. What happened to this boy? It made you slightly guilty. Well, even more now that you realized his bandage was coming loose.

You were at a cross road, were you going to leave this boy in the middle of the woods where he doesn't even know the way out or which direction is which— or should you haul his ass back to your camp and take care of him? He was following you from the town into the forest, but he didn't look like he was raised to do heinous acts to a girl. He looked like he wouldn't hesitate to hurt you, but he also looked vulnerable, and undeniably— so adorable.

You couldn't deny it no matter how hard you tried. Even in this wretched apocalypse— you still had a soft spot for cute boys. But can you blame yourself? You've been by yourself for years, and he was the first boy from the handful of people you've seen from your time in the apocalypse that was genuinely attractive.

With a heavy heart and a deep sigh— you put your bat in your bag of scavenged stuff, then ready and stretch your muscles cause you're about to drag (from your analysis) a 5'7 weight back to your cabin.

You didn't expect he'd be so heavy, but with you forgetting to exercise and him being a teenage boy— you guess it wasn't all that surprising. When you get back to your camp, it's hard getting the door open.

But you push through and try your best to put him on your bed so he can at least get comfortable. When you pull back finally from that exhausting feat, you realize his bandage had come off. You guess it fell off from the journey of you dragging his weight back here, you didn't even notice it. but now you do.

You should be disgusted, but you weren't— you thought he got hurt. You were worried. Looking at it longer made you realize that this kid went through it, losing an eye and still living. One eye in the apocalypse and he's still alive? He was starting to get a lot more badass in your book.

But then your mind thinks that you should change his bandage, it fell off and the least you could do was replace it. Scrambling to find any of your medical supplies, you wonder what you're doing, running around trying to find clean medical supplies for a random stranger. But to you, it's all worth it when you have to get close to him to clean around his eye.

With a gentle hand, you lightly dab around his scarred skin, getting all the dirt and debris off that had accidentally made its way near the wound. You don't know why, but even with his scar as large as that— he's still so handsome. He must have won the genetics awards, cause to you he got the best of both worlds from his parents.

Going back to reality, you use your other hand to lift his head to wrap the bandage around him, using is to support the bandage now covering the scar. You take your time with it, subconsciously trying to touch his hair in the process. It makes you blush, knowing if your body was reacting like this when he was unconscioud, you don't know how you'll manage when he wakes up.

Oh. You need to be real with yourself for a minute. When he wakes up, he'll freak out because he's in an unknown place with a girl that knocked him out. He's going to panic.

You can't have that right now. Maybe you could restrain him? It sounds unethical, but you can't take any chances. Getting your rope, you grab both his wrists and tie them above his head to the headboard. You know it'll be uncomfortable for him, but you're not going to let him thrash around your house freely until he calms down.

You stand up from sitting on the edge of the bed, and open a sliver big enough to see through the curtains. With nightfall coming, it's getting cold. You look back at the unconscious boy, 'it wouldn't be so bad if I just covered him with a blanket, right?' Everything you're doing for the boy seems too nice to just be welcoming, but you don't want to pay attention to it anymore. Maybe you were going crazy.

Going back to where he was sitting, you take a folded blanket next to him and place it on his lower half. It's quite adorable, really— none of the blankets you had seemed to cover all of him (it barely even covered you too) so you just had to do with covering his lower half and a quarter of his upper half, barely meeting his torso.

With no more space on the bed, the edge seemed to be your only option. So you do, then just play with your fingers, thinking. From carrying that boy through the forest and in your camp— you're too tired to eat, and all you wanted to do was wait for the long-haired brunet to open his eyes— so you figured just tinkering around the room. You arrange your stuff, organize all the stuff you had found from your journey before this whole 'knocking-someone-out' debacle.

You were doing just about everything to pass the time, waiting for just any sign that the boy would wake. But you guess someone out there was listening to your thoughts as your head turns to the sound of faint moaning from the boy. You guess you were right to assume that he'd have a killer migraine when he would stir.

When he flutters his eyes open, he quickly lets his fight or flight control him as he wriggles around, you try to diffuse the situation.

"Hey— woah, calm down. Stop moving." You say, but it seems like it doesn't get to him when he just continues his actions, thrashing harder even.

You try to think of something to calm him, or make him stop moving around that is. Without thinking properly and with his panicking also influencing you, you grab his gun that you took from him when he was knocked out and pointed it right at his head.

"Listen, if you don't stop that i'll blow your fucking brains out. Get that?" Your threat had seemed to work partially, since he had stopped moving erratically. But what you don't understand is how his eyes soften. What the hell? this guy's for sure got something knocked out of his head when you hit him.

'What's with this guy?'

Carl thought he was dreaming. He felt relieved, confused, and a whole lot of pain from the back of his head all at the same time. His eyes really weren't deceiving him, the girl he saw pass by was actually you. The constant blurred haze in his vision wasn't there, and he saw it all the more clearly. He looked around, seeing the same wooden ceiling and posters— but what sealed the deal was that distinct recurve bow.

And you. Even in his blurred dreams, he could already tell you were enthralling, beautiful but fierce-eyed. However, now that he can see you all the more clearly, he thinks he may have understated you.

"Okay, you're weirding me out. First off, why the hell were you following me?" Your voice didn't the same enough bite it did at first, now just confused. You really were weirded out. You had threatened him just mere seconds ago, but now he was looking at you, like you were under a microscope, waiting to be observed. It made you a little self-conscious.

Carl knew he would sound ridiculous. 'I kept seeing you in my dreams.' Like the girl wouldn't be creeped out even more than she is right now. So he starts off vague.

"I thought I saw you somewhere. Sorry if it felt like I was creeping up on you." He figured it wouldn't be too bad to apologize now and get it out of the way.

". . . It's all cool," You say. "Not the uh, you— not you creeping up on me, but like— it's water under the bridge for me now, yeah?" You reiterate.

It's stupid. You feel stupid. Here you are stumbling over your words to a boy that you tied up in your cabin, it makes you feel like you're the one being tied up instead.

"Cool, thanks. But can you uh. . ." He waves his hands to gesture them. "Could you let me out of these?" Carl really wants to feel like he has freedom from his movement. It's one thing that you're actually talking and not just caring for him in his visions, but it'll be the nail in the coffin if he could move. Then he knows this isn't just a hyperrealistic dream he's having.

"I dunno. . ." You're genuinely thinking if you should or shouldn't cut him out of his ropes. "How can I be sure you won't hurt me the second I cut you out of those?" You nod at the knots around his wrists, they look like they aren't getting loose any time soon— no matter how childish the achievement is, you pat yourself on the back mentally.

"I promise I don't plan on hurting you, okay?" He tries to assure you. He really won't, he doesn't really don't know what to do even if he does get cut loose— it all seems too surreal.

"Also— even if I was going to, my head is pounding and I don't have the capacity to do anything but go through it." Carl said. His head wasn't just pounding, it was like someone was hammering into his skull— his head felt like it was gonna burst.

"Oh yeah, i'm sorry about that—" You get up and grab your bag, opening it to fiddle through it, before finally finding what you intended to give to him. "Have these, I couldn't really give it to you when you were. . . y'know? When you were knocked out and all that." Maybe your social skills weren't the best, but you were trying.

You showed him a pill bottle, with a weathered label that boldly spells out 'Ibuprofen'. He was thankful, you seemed just as clumsy and cute as you were in his dreams. You were stumbling, but you meant well.

"Thanks, but i'm still tied up, so. . ." His remark made you realize you were trying to give it to him but you forgot he was still in his restraints.

"Oh! Yeah, uh- sorry about that let me just—" You hover him, trying to cut the ropes that was tying him to the headboard.

Carl thought of himself as a respectful guy, he'll look the other way when something racy is infront of him, but it's hard to look any other way than in front of him when you were leaning slight above him, his eyes directly in level with your chest. He tries to just focus on how much the rope was uncomfortable and how it chafed against his skin— probably giving him rope burn when he looks at his wrists, anything else to focus on to stop the blood from flowing through his face.

"There, sorry about your wrists though." You finally pull away. Your knots were severely hard to cut through, something you'd have to remember just in case. Carl's thankful you seem so awkward and in thought, cause if you weren't, you'd notice how red his face had gotten.

"Yeah— uh. Thanks, for this— I mean." Carl takes the pill bottle you were giving to him, not ignoring how even just the brush of his fingers against yours feel like a dozen jolts going through his hands then to his heart.

"Why didn't you just leave me there? I was following you, surely you didn't think it was just the wind." Carl was curious, why did you let him follow you? he knows if he was being followed he'd get up and running through the woods in every direction if he was getting trailed, so why didn't you?

"If I left you there, i'd be as good as the people that don't deserve to live in this world." That and also how you couldn't just leave such a cute boy alone in the woods, but you think you should keep that to yourself. "Also, your bandage came off so," You gesture with a nod to his bandage.

"I changed it for you. Your welcome, I guess." You finish off, not really sure if he was comfortable about the topic, so you'd tried to keep it quick and straight to the point.

His facial expression goes icy and touches the bandage on his damaged eye, and just as you had said, you had changed it. But that wasn't what he was worried about. You saw him? No, you couldn't. He looked monstrous, abnormal— but you seemed unphased. You were getting all the more interesting. He was curious to find out more and more about you.

"Don't I look hideous to you?" Even from meeting mere moments ago, it felt so easy to get vulnerable with you. Like you had known him for longer than you actually did. Maybe it was because he knew you for much longer than you knew, but he digresses.

"Hideous? Oh God no!—" You laugh at his question, you look at him with a small smile growing on your lips. He looks at you, muddled.

"You look fucking cool, dude. Don't think about it too much." You were being sincere. You really did think he looked badass. He shouldn't feel insecure about it, especially when it made him look so tough.

Your answer made him seem to relax, less apprehensive and more— calm. Calm. That's what he calls it. That feeling he always felt when he saw you in his dreams seemed to carry on to the real you. It made his heart relax, going into a steady rhythm.

"Thanks." Carl didn't want to keep saying the same thing all over again, but he can't help it. Whenever he looks at you all over again, and knowing you think that— that he looked cool, not anything else— all the words his mind had remembered were turned into nothing, just plain word vomit.

"It's nothing. Uh. . . Oh! I'm uh— I'm Y/N, by the way." Not wanting to seem rude, you reach your hand out— gesturing for a handshake. Even in the apocalypse, you couldn't help but keep up with your manners. Carl thought it was silly, but in a good way.

Carl looks at your hand then back at you, hesitating— before reciprocating the gesture. Grabbing your hand firmly and shaking it softly.

"Carl." The boy you'd been nursing had finally had a name to him. Carl. You couldn't help but think it suits him, but you shake that thought.

"You know— for a person who knocked me out first time we saw each other, I'd think you wanna be friends." Carl jokes. Under all that playfulness in his tone, he really did want to be your friend. More than that even, but he'll keep that locked in his mind for now. The boy wanted to know more about the girl he'd been seeing every time he went to sleep. You made him curious, something he rarely ever felt.

"Yeah! Heh. . . Sorry about that again," You apologize. "It's getting late, you should sleep in. Those painkillers I gave you can only do so much to help your headache." You get up and grab another blanket next to him.

Carl stood up straight. "Hey wait— ugh." He groaned in pain and frustration and grabs his head from the pain in his head from moving too fast. Okay, maybe he didn't think that through. But he'd be stupid if he let the literal girl of his dreams sleep on the floor. "Let me sleep there, okay? I'm the one intruding." He tries standing up, but the only he achieved was stumbling up a little and sitting back down.

"What? No–! Absolutely not." You scoff, grabbing his shoulders, firm and stubbornly.

"I can't let you sleep on the hardwood floor, Carl. You're hurt. And that's bad guest etiquette, Especially when you feels like your head's cracked open." You say. Even with all you said, all Carl could focus on was when you said his name. It flowed so serenely out of your mouth, like it belonged. He didn't know why, but he wanted to hear it more from you.

"You can't be serious." Despite Carl being in pain, the sassy tone he always had when talking could never be covered by it.

"Just stop trying to be a gentleman right now and just focus on getting better," You uttered to him, with a tone that spoke you didn't want anything else and this was final. "Got it?" Carl liked this side of you, even with you pointing a gun at his face, all he could think about was how it was pretty charming.

Something he never really got to experience in his dreams— and realized he liked about you— was your bossy tone. Although, it couldn't really be called demanding if the person saying it didn't have anything to back it up. In the end, it just made you look endearing, trying to seem all authoritarian.

"I'll try." He sighed, before laying back down on the bed— with you copying his actions, taking your bag then putting it next to the bed. You had laid down, fluffing the backpack like a pillow and opening your blanket, scrunching into a ball to cover most of your body.

"Goodnight, Carl. Sorry for knocking you out." You said before turning the other way and shutting your eyes. Carl slowly looked at the your lying figure, before deciding to sleep also.

". . . I— Goodnight, Y/N." Carl said, before turning the other way. That was the first time he said your name. Without even knowing it, he said your name so softly. Even if you don't want it to, it makes your cheeks flush. You're happy you turned the other way, you don't want him to possibly see you blush just 'cause he said your name.

Carl fell asleep faster than he normally would. Maybe it was the painful headache he had, or was it because he was next to you? He'd rather not think about it, it'll add more fuel to the fire of questions he already had about the girl. But as fast he fell asleep, he woke up just as quick as well. With fluttering eyes, getting used to the blinding light that was seeping through the curtains, his eyes adjusted to the scene.

He looked around— and just like yesterday, it was all still the same. Same house, same bed, and the same pounding headache he had. Now he was sure he wasn't dreaming. But the one thing he was trying to find wasn't there just like he expected to. You weren't there.

Where did you go? Carl slowly stood up and put a hand to his head. You were right, it'll hurt worse than it did yesterday. He was starting to internally panic. He was silently praying, begging for a sign that you were real. Anything just so he could believe what he experienced yesterday wasn't just his imagination.

But before he can scour his mind for answers on where you were, it's like you heard him— pleading in his mind that you would show up, just to see you again. You opened the door, then closed it shut. Your movements halting when you see him standing now, looking at you, visibly worried. 'What happened to him while I was away?'

"Are you okay? You look anxious." You put what you were holding— a water container and your bow on the table in the cabin and walked closer to him.

"Yeah, I— I was just wondering where you went." He cleared his throat and put his hands in his pockets. He had never really talked to a girl his age before other than Enid, but this was different. He was talking to a girl he actually liked. So given that, his social skills were at an all time low.

"I was getting more water. You were worried about that?" You were starting to grow a smile. He was getting worried about you, and for whatever reason, that made your heart feel fuzzy and mind go blank.

"Where'd you put my gun?" Carl dodged the question. He'd rather not get into him getting troubled about his dream girl right now, so he wanted to know where his weapon was. He patted himself down, trying to look more preoccupied.

"Huh, yeah sure. It's in here." You dismissed your teasing tone, getting his gun out of your bag. "I wasn't sure if you'd attack me when I get home, so I just brought it with me. Take it." You hold the barrel in you hand, holding it out to him.

Carl pauses, before taking it and observing the gun, releasing the magazine from the chamber and checking its ammo before putting it back and placing it in his holster.

"Thanks." He sees you moving back to the table.

"Where are you going?" He asks. It confuses you, what did he mean by that? "I'm. . . getting my bow?" You say as if it was the most obvious thing ever. What is he trying to say?

"No— I know that. I mean like where are you going after," He gestures with his head to the whole cabin they were in. "This?"

Your body freezes, why would he ask you that? Did he want to come with you? You scratch the back of your neck in boredom, before answering his question.

"I dunno? I just keep moving. That's all I ever do. Nothing I ever stay in holds up, so better stay safe than sorry." Your answer gives him an idea. Maybe you could stay with him in Alexandria?

"This is sudden, and we just met briefly yesterday but," He looks at you intently. "Do you want to come with me? We have a place, it has walls and a home. You could stay with us." Us? There were more of him? How lucky was he that he had people that were trustworthy around him that he could confidently deem where he was as safe?

You think about it. You really needed a safe place to stay, and he seemed focused on letting you come with him. But you didn't want to trust him fully yet. You know better than to just blindly trust people in this world.

"Take me out for dinner first, geez—" You quip. You want to come with him, but you're still on the fence about everything. "I'll think about it. For now, i'll stay here. M'kay?"

You decide that maybe he'd want to visit you, but you suggest it just in case he was thinking something else. "You can visit me anytime, cowboy." Saying that, you grab the hat he was wearing first time you met and put it in his grasp.

He looked at his hands with the hat, and you. He was still kind of sad you didn't want to come with him, but he understood why. He was still a stranger, no less. But with you saying you didn't mind that he could visit you whenever made him feel a little more chipper than usual.

"I will." He smiled at you and put his hat on. "I'll get going now, the people where i'm from are probably scared shitless about me." Carl was telling the truth— Rick probably was tearing anyone apart just to find where his son was right now. You laughed a little at that. Still, it made him feel good knowing he made you laugh, be it a small one but a laugh still.

"Sure, your stuff's next to the door." You point to where his bag is. "I didn't take anything, don't worry." And just as he looked through the bag, your words had ringed to be right.

And he sees something else; it was a map showing your cabin and the way back to the town you both were in. He looks at you, and even with the uncomfortable hammering in his head he still needed to see you again. But he remembers he really should back to Alexandria.

"Thanks. I'll come back for you." His words were light, but it was more than that. It was a promise to you, whether you wanted to acknowledge that it was or not. It made you giddy, he'd be coming back for you.

"Well, when you do—" Walking up to him close, "You know where to find me." You take his other hand and open it, putting in a protein bar before closing his palm. You gave it to him, just a goodbye souvenir. It was a throwaway though, only giving it to him so he could have something so he could eat (but you actually just want him to think about you when he eats it).

"And i'll know where to look." He gazes down at you, relaxed from just seeing you. You were actually real. "See you." He smiles at you. Carl's heart felt like it was going soft, all from you and your fleeting touches— gentle and caring. Your teasing tone and nature made him feel like he wants to stay here forever, never wanting it to end.

But he knows he'll have to wait, going out the door and waving back to you. You wave back and go back to what you were doing. He's overjoyed— the dream girl he always wondered who was, was you.

He swore he'd make you come with him, but all he had to do was wait. This wasn't going to be the last time you see each other— because he isn't going to let his dream girl go that easily, not this time, not ever again.

I didn't even realize how long I made this one! wowiee this was such a cute fic, i'll make a part 2 to this, let me know if you want one ! also might take me until next week to make a part 2 to "so high", just figuring some school stuff out :3 ✮⋆˙

tags : @carlslvr @shadowybasementmiracle

wanna be tagged the next time I post my fics? let me know ꩜ .ᐟ

#carl grimes #carl grimes x fem!reader #carl grimes x reader #the walking dead #twd #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes x y/n #the walking dead x reader #carl grimes x you #twd x reader #𓂃🖊 — florette's fics

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livingdeadgirlflorette · 2 months ago

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ur fics are fire 🔥🔥

Dude thank youu ! I'll be posting another carl grimes x reader in a few days, stay tuned ! (*＾3＾)/～☆

#carl grimes #carl grimes x fem!reader #carl grimes x reader #the walking dead #carl grimes fanfiction #twd #carl grimes x y/n #the walking dead x reader #carl grimes x you #twd x reader

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livingdeadgirlflorette · 2 months ago

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small snippet of what i'll be posting in a few days ^_^

#carl grimes #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes x fem!reader #carl grimes x reader #the walking dead #carl grimes x y/n #twd #the walking dead x reader #twd x reader #twd x you

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livingdeadgirlflorette · 2 months ago

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ARE WE STILL FRIENDS? ₊˚✩⊹ carl grimes x fem!reader

summary : After what happened a few weeks ago, seeing Carl made you anxious. Just looking at him made you ponder what was the thing you had with him. But one visit to a friend of his may just be enough to be the straw that breaks the camel's back.

word count : 4.7k

tags / rundown : average teen angst, fluff, more-than-friends-less-than-lovers trope, glenn and maggie are your substitute parents here, carl has an emotional capacity of a teaspoon, reader and carl are so oblivious oh my word, slight jealous!carl, kissing, sitting on carl's lap, brief mention of teen pregnancy

a / n : hi guys! this is a part 2 for "late night kisses", but it could be read as a stand-alone as well ! i just finished this like 2 hours ago and proofread it, i'm pretty satisfied with how this came out. i really wanted to show how angsty teenager's could be for such trivial things, and i think i showed it pretty well here >_< enjoy reading !

dividers by @cafekitsune 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

PART 1: LATE NIGHT KISSES ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖

With Rick interrupting your whole secret rendezvous with Carl in his bedroom, and practically telling you he knows about you guys— you wonder how bad it really would be if they did find out about you and Carl.

But there was one question that gets under your skin more than anything. It makes you think if anything between the two of you was more than just what you guys were doing. What were you and Carl?

All this time it has been just Y/N and Carl, inseparable, attached to the hip best friends. Just. Friends. That's an interesting way to state the relationship between the two of you, if just friends sneak around and makeout in their bedroom, and If just friends hold eachother at night, looking into each other's eyes lovingly, never wanting it to end.

It makes you concerned also, what did Carl think about the two of you? You don't what to acknowledge it, but it makes you stomach churn thinking that Carl would think you guys were nothing more than friends that kiss one another every once in a while. Thinking about it just puts a crestfallen, depressed look on your face.

"What's got you down in the dumps for?" A voice snaps you out of your mind question of is-Carl-a-friend-or-something-more crisis, remembering where you are. You're at your dining room table, eating breakfast with Glenn and Maggie. Ever since their group came, you became close with them, subconsciously (whether you wanted to or not) growing a familial bond with them.

They told you multiple times that you were welcome to come and go— so whenever you feel like it, you come to them when you have a problem, or you just don't want to interact with other teenagers in Alexandria. They get too posh-sounding when they talk about trivial things for your liking.

"Oh its uh— y'know it's just nothing." You dismiss the brunette woman's question. Since you and Carl didn't want anybody to know about the two of you, you decided to keep it a secret. And it would be a shame for the both of you if all of that came crashing down just 'cause Maggie had asked why you looked so sad.

"Well nothing doesn't make you of all people look so depressed. Why don't you go to your little boyfriend? He always puts a smile on that face." Glenn suggests, using a teasing sound for the question. You know he's just trying to make you feel better, but the mention of Carl just makes you even more down trodden. But you quickly realize what Glenn titles him as.

With an seemingly unstoppable flush blooming on your face, you quickly try to defend yourself, trying to save face.

"He's not my boyfriend, nor am I his girlfriend. We're nothing really, just friends." You argue. Saying that makes your heart break a little, even if you don't want it to. You play with the food on your plate, seeming uninterested. You just want to curl up into a ball and let time pause for a minute. Everything is just too much right now.

"He may not be your boyfriend per se, but he sure does act like one." Glenn counters, smiling knowingly. Despite every molecule and fiber of your being wanting to defend yourself, he was right. Carl did tend to have tendencies towards you that were too close for comfort on being the role of a lover.

If you ever mentioned a food you'd been missing, or an item so specific that you'd been missing in general, he'd get it for you and act all nonchalant and dismissive when you'd ask how the hell did he get it from (but he'd never tell you how he had almost got surrounded by a herd of walkers trying to get it for you). He would put his hand, hovering ever so slightly on your back when going through a crowded group or when he's behind you.

"We're uhm— I dunno. We're something." You say, moving food around your plate, showing signs of boredom, but no amount of uninterest in your body language could mask the sad look on your face. As much as your answer was adding nothing to the conversation, what you said was sincere. What really were you two? Friends don't sneak into the other's room at night, friends don't straddle each other, and friends definitely don't lock lips with each other. It stumped you, if you were going to be honest.

"Well figure that something out with the boy, okay? It's disheartening watching the two of you walk around like sad little puppies all the time." Glenn finalizes, he finishes his plate of food and walks over to the sink. Unknowingly to him, what he had said made you perplexed. Carl was also blue? As much as it made you feel empathetic for him, it made you wonder why he was also feeling like he had his heart punched out of his chest. You thought what you were feeling was just you, but with him also feeling upset over it, it kind of made you guilty 'cause it felt good knowing that what you were feeling was mutual.

"I actually have an idea, but it's not one of my most proudest. . ." You barely let out, feeling all shy now that you realize you're gonna say it out loud. Glenn was washing his dish, but he turned his head to the side to share a look of curiousity with his wife. They both looked back at you, silently tell you to go on.

"I'm gonna talk to Mikey. He seems to know Carl well enough, and I think maybe he could help me." Without skipping a beat, Maggie had paused the spoon with food that was about to go into her mouth and Glenn paused his movements before they continued doing their actions.

You know it was a silly conclusion, but with all the mood swings you were getting from avoiding Carl, desperate times call for desperate measures. You figured you had no choice anymore, and this was the only thing you thought of. Ever since Carl and his group had been recruited by Aaron, Mikey and the other teens seemed to have grown close with him, and you concluded that maybe he'd know if Carl was acting strange and if he had maybe, possibly told him about you.

But before that ridiculous thought, you pondered if maybe Enid could help you with this debacle, but you know she wouldn't be all that comfortable sharing feelings like that, and she wasn't a person that you could talk to about it. You also knew she'd thank you for saving her from that talk about how Carl made you feel all mushy inside.

Is it a stupid and dumb idea? yes— but as you said yourself, desperate times call for desperate measures. The married couple share a uncertain look with each other, but decide silently they wouldn't press too hard about it.

"And uh, how do you think Carl would feel about that? Y'know, going behind his back and all that?" Maggie suggests, finally finishing her last spoonful before standing up to go to where Glenn is at the sink.

You also thought that while thinking of a solution, but you figured that it would be better off if Carl didn't know. What he doesn't know won't hurt him.

"I . . . I uh– actually don't plan on telling him about it, I don't think he needs to know." You're not really sure if does, also it would be a hell of a lot embarrassing knowing Carl knows that you asked one of his friends about what he thought of you.

"Well, if you're gonna do that just make sure you make it right, okay? He seems like he wouldn't be too grumpy about that, but maybe a little." Maggie tries assuring you, standing up and brushing you hair in passing.

What she says gives you a little assurance, but it doesn't outweigh the fact that you're about to lie to Carl; not by saying something but the opposite actually. Lying by omission had never felt so burdening.

"I'll try." You finish you last spoon and head to the sink. Glenn and Maggie seemed to be readying to go outside. Maybe they were going on a walk together? You're not sure.

"Good. Also don't forget to dry that plate okay? You're thinking too much. From what i've read, it's bad for pretty girls." Glenn tries to joke with you, but it doesn't really work. You thank him for that, despite all the teenage angst you're going through, he still wants to put a smile on your face. It makes you heart feel a little lighter.

"I got it, now go away. Let me wallow in my self pity while I wash the dishes." You joke back with them, both parties laughing a little. Even if you're still feeling bad, all that pep talk with them gave you a feeling of determination. You had to get to the bottom of this before it all came crashing down before you.

You look back at the couple, seeing them walk out the door hand in hand with one another, having such a caring gaze for each other. Observing them made you question you and Carl. Did you want that with him? And if you did, did he also feel the same?

Walking to Mikey's house was an interesting experience, to say the least. With a mantra of affirmations in your mind that spans to saying "everything is gonna be okay" , "don't panic, it's not a big deal" and rubbing your hands up and down your arms a dozen times you're sure you could start a fire by doing it, you finally reach Mikey's house.

It helps you realize you don't even have a plan on what to say. Really, what were you gonna say? 'Hey Mikey, I just wanted to know if Carl said anything about me? Not to dump anything on you but i've been sneaking into his room and making out with him these past few months and his father caught us 2 weeks ago and now im panicking.'?

You rethink your choices, starting to backtrack your decision. But sometimes you just have to calm down— grin and bear it for the sake of needing to get to the bottom of this, before you spiral into a fit of hysteria and isolation.

Your knocks on the door are firm but hesitant, and not long after you see your friend's familliar face. Mikey seemed surprised, and you understood why. You guys were never really that close with one another, with you choosing to hang out with Enid (cause she seemed to understand you too) and him hanging out with Carl and the other boys in the walls. It's justified that he'd be looking like a deer in headlights at the sight of you at their front door.

"Oh, you're the last person I expected to see here. Not in a bad way though, heh. Hey Y/N, you need anything?" Even with the shocked feeling he has, he seems to recover it quickly, putting on a more welcoming, friendly expression.

"Yeah actually, uh— can I come in? I need to talk to you about someone, privately." Your voice comes out meek, frazzled because you haven't really thought out how this conversation would go.

"Uh yeah sure! Come in, come in. I'll uh- I'll ask my father if he's fine with it though, he's just out back and I think he'd be fine with having you over. While i'm talking to him, make yourself at home, okay?" Mikey scrambles to get his words out, it's obvious he feels awkward. But it doesn't stop him from trying to just make it seem like two friends (that's pushing it, better word for you and him would be acquaintances) hanging out. You thank him silently for that, trying to make it seem less awkward than it actually is.

With him going out the back door, you're left to your own devices in his living room. You look around, and there doesn't seem to be anything that interesting. It just looks like any other upper-class house you'd see in Alexandria.

You try to make yourself feel home, sitting down on the couch. Moving from multiple positions on the comfortable cushions, you give up and just fiddle with your fingers. For what feels like an eternity, in his living room, Mikey and his father come in and his father greets you in passing before settling in a chair in the kitchen, busy doing something you can't really see. But before you can really think about it, Mikey comes in and sits next to you.

"I have a glimmer of an idea on why you're here, but I won't say anything unless you want me to." Mikey leans back, getting comfortable. You're confused. How would he of all people know what you were gonna tell him about? It made you feel like you should bite the bullet and ask.

"No it's okay, I wanna know." You urge him. If he did know about who you were gonna talk about, how obvious were the two of you?

"I'm guessing it's because of a certain long haired boy? Just a guess though." His words seem to say he's just guessing, but his tone says otherwise. He sounded teasingly, like he knew something you didn't.

"Shit, was it that obvious? It's just— okay let me think about it, I'm just confused. He seems like he cares about me, but he never really wanted to talk about us. Like what we were. We're something, well we were." That's all you could say before your mind went blank. Thinking about all this is making you go stupid at this point.

"Well since you both seem and look like trainwrecks, i'll talk for you." Mikey knew what you needed right now, and that was for someone to tell you just straight up what was happening.

"You and Carl aren't just friends, okay? You and him may think that, but friends don't act like that with each other and act like it's nothing." Your friend's word seem to reach to you, telling you what needed to be done.

"We're friends, right? You and me? We don't do that. That's different. You and him have something different than friends. It's more than that, Y/N. And if you can't get that through your thick head, i'm not sure how you'll end up." Mikey finishes. He thinks his words got to you, and it did. You feel grateful, really. Despite it being blunt and straightforward, you got the message he was trying to send. You know what you have to do now.

"Wow, that's— huh. Thanks for that, Mikey. It means a lot, even if you unintentionally did refer to me as a numbskull." The joke you let out lightens the mood, putting a mood on both of your expressions. You realize you're lucky to have a friend like Mikey, he's not afraid to tell you straight up when you need something said.

"So since that's out of the way, wanna play videogames? I got something you might like." Mikey suggests. Even if you weren't that close to him, he still wanted to be civil with you. Given his inquiry, you didn't think it would hurt to play videogames with him, even if it was just for an hour or two.

You follow him up the stairs, but before you could make it up halfway with him, a firm knock at the door stops the both of your movements. You look at eachother, obviously curious.

"Stay here. It's probably just my father's friend or something asking about him."

He jogs down the steps, hesitant to open it but when he does, his shoulders drop in relief.

"Oh Carl, what are you doing here? You need something?" Mikey asks. With the stairs directly in front of the door, you tilt your head to the side, to see the long-haired brunet you'd been avoiding all this time.

"I was looking for Y/N actually, have you seen her?" Carl was asking. He seemed urgent, with a frantic aura to him, but his face was controlled. Before Mikey could answer Carl had finally found you, catching your gaze. You were on the stairs, looking like a deer in headlights. How did he know you were here? But weird enough, why does he look so rushed?

Carl seemed as confused as you. Why were you with Mikey? Why were you guys alone together? And why does it look like you were just going down from his room? Too many questions and no answers was gonna send Carl into a downward spiral. All these thoughts and no conclusion. He'll have to ask you later, 'cause he's going to die surely if it eats away at him from the fact that he'll keep thinking about it. It makes him feel such an unfamilliar feeling that he hasn't felt in a while; like venom coursing in his veins and his blood piping hot, he knew it in himself that he was jealous.

"Oh she's right here actually," Mikey turns so his body's facing you slightly. "You need her right now?" Mikey's question is starting to sound a lot more like earlier, with and underlying tease and knowing look.

Carl seems to pause at the question. Mikey's simple question feels like a more complicated one to him. To explain how much he needs her, he'd have to dive into an ocean's worth deep of words he's been meaning to say. But he'd rather open that can of feelings another time, preferrably with Y/N. Right now, all he wants to do is to speak with her.

"Yea can I actually talk to her? It's important." No matter what Mikey says, either way he'll get Y/N out of that house. It's killing him inside, he doesn't know why you've been so distant lately. The variable of your presence becoming absent in his routine for the past few weeks has left him dumbfounded. He needed to know what was wrong— or else it'll destroy him.

Before Mikey could even utter a proper response, Carl pushes past him and grabs your arm firmly, but gentle enough that he doesn't hurt you. His action befuddles you. First; he looks like a headless chicken trying to find you, and second; he's dragging you out of Mikey's house hurriedly. What could be so urgent that he needed to up and pull you out?

Your heart was in your mouth, unable to say anything. What would you say even? Carl was pulling you out of Mikey's house, and to the direction of his, were you supposed to ask why? You were frazzled, but all you could think about was how careful he was holding you hand. By the time he dragged you out of the house, his hand intertwined with yours, be it a habit or reassurance to him. That simple action made your heart leap out of you chest.

With the brisk pace he was walking with, you made it to his porch in record time. To add more flush to your cheeks, you see his father, Rick at the porch steps— looking at you both knowingly. It seems like he could tell you were tongue tied, and chose not to say anything else to save you the embarrassment (he'd do it later instead).

Walking quick to his room, he pulls you in and locks the door. He turns to you, standing face to face. You want to say something, so badly. But knowing if you would, you'd open up a pandora's box worth of words you'd been meaning to say. So you start slow.

"I wanna start off with i'm sorry, okay? Listen, it's just i'm really worried about us," Carl softens his gaze and walks closer to you. "—and I don't even know what we are anymore."

He grabs your hand and aligns it with his. "What are we, Carl?" As you ask, you watch him. It's cute, watching him observe your hand difference. It's as if he's trying to stall what storm is about to come. He then close his hand, intertwining it between the gaps of yours.

"We're friends, right?" He assures, he looks so pitiful, eyes pleading with you not to let this dam of unspoken words open into a whirlwind of emotions he desperately wanted not to let out.

"Are we really?" You barely say above a whisper. Are you really just friends? With all that happened with you and him, you guys are just platonic? It makes your heart shatter thinking that.

"Carl what you do— what we do isn't just friends. I'm sorry but I can't deal with it if it's just being friends with you." Your face falters, showing a more betrayed expression.

Carl thinks he's pathetic. He swore to himself that he'd never let anyone or anything make you upset, but he never thought he would be the cause of it. It makes his eyes teary, but he'd rather get eaten alive by walkers than show you how much he's been holding in.

"I. . ." Carl hesitates. ". . . I don't want to be just friends with you." Him confessing that makes you doe-eyed, what did he mean by that?

"It's just— everyone I love always leaves." Before he can even register it, his hot tears spill out of his eyes. He's embarrassed, and looks down to hide it.

"I can't lose anybody else." Despite him looking down and his voice low, it's enough for you to hear. You felt stupid now. All this time he was trying to protect you. He felt as if he was magnet of death and chose to love and cherish you from a distance instead, no matter how much it makes his heart feel unsatisfied.

"I— I can't anymore." Carl barely says between his cries. Carl felt silly. Here he was, crying in front of the person he wanted and needed so badly just because he couldn't possibly have her. If he had to choose one word to name his state right now, it would be desperate.

But what you do next is something he never expected you would do. You use your free hand to lift his chin up and wipe away at his tears, still looking at his teary-eyed gaze. Your other hand that was holding his closes, finally reciprocating the action. And what you say next sends his heart going a hundred miles per minute.

"I'm not leaving anytime soon, okay? I care about you too much to do that."

Carl felt special. The one and only person he genuinely wants to be with feels the same, the feeling was mutual. All of it makes his heart feel like it's gonna jump out of his throat. With hesitant movement, you chastely kiss the stains that had been left from his sobbing. Everything Carl was feeling right now made him so overjoyed, it made him lethargic.

With a hesitant hand, he returns the action by caressing the side of your face, looking into your gaze before nervously asking her what he's been meaning to say all this time.

"I love you, okay? I wanna be—" He sighs before he could finish, and shuts his eyes in focus before opening them to look at you once again. He's hesitant, would him saying this ruin everything? You look to him curiously. What now?

"I wanna be your boyfriend." He concludes. All of a sudden you feel your body feel so much lighter. Him stating that made you feel so happy, wanting to jump for joy 'cause everything was going right.

Carl looked nervous, like he would break any second. It was adorable, really. Normally you would be the one doe-eyed and shy from your interactions, but now the roles reversed. You figured it wouldn't be so bad, him looking like that, eyes glassy and pitiful. You couldn't deny how even in his state, he looks so cute.

". . .Okay." You finally say as you smile. The moment you say that, it's like a switch flips with him. He still looked teary-eyed, but he looks ten times more happy. He holds you face in his free hand and asks the other question he's been dying to ask.

"That's— that's great! I- uhm, can I kiss you?" Nervous and skittish, he manages to let out a jumble of words. Even so, you vehemently nod at him.

Carl goes in slowly, trying to gauge your reaction, eyes going to your lips then to you, before he goes in completely to close the space. It feels like heaven, his lips on yours. Just like clockwork, his hands hesitate on your waist. It makes you relax, knowing no matter how many times you kiss, he'll always end up bashful. It makes you smile into the kiss.

Feeling bold, you gently push him back on the edge of his bed, making him sit while you hover on him to keep you as close to him as you need to. He looks so perfect; him sitting on the edge of his bed, looking up at you, pleading eyes begging for you to come back into his space.

With languid, calculated movements, you place yourself on one of his thighs and go back in to capture his lips with yours again. He blushes at this; with the extended amount of time you'd been apart from one another, he's gonna have to get used to you all over again and your touch.

But just like last time you saw each other, you get interrupted. You both hear a loud, firm knock, before an unnecessary amount of wriggling of the door.

You practically jump off one another, before you both come up to the door, with you slightly behind Carl.

The door unlocks and you expect to see Rick, but unexpectedly, you're met with Michonne at the entrance.

"You kids good in there? You seemed pretty silent." Michonne asks. She seemed to know what was going on, but proceeded to ask anyway.

"Yeah– uh-huh, I was just talking to her uh– Y/N." Carl quickly says. But his defense seems to make it a whole lot worse.

"Oh you're talking. All right, i'll stop buggin' ya. Enjoy your talk." Michonne looks at you, letting your already flushed face get even warmer from the implications she was trying to tell you, and then to Carl, who was trying to regulate his breathing, all while Michonne was growing a smirk on her face. She proceeds to close the door, leaving you and him to bask in the shy atmosphere that had been created.

". . .So you wanna make out some more?" You ask. You know you should be shy about it, but there's no use beating around the bush, especially when you want him to touch you so badly all over again.

"Hell yeah." Carl says before grabbing you by the waist and kissing your lips once again. Kissing you with your hands on his shoulders and his hands rubbing circles on your waist, he knows one thing for sure.

He'll never get tired of this.

BONUS ೀ⋆⑅˚

"Oh they're smooching it on alright." Michonne reports to Rick, seemingly teasing the teen pair that wasn't there to defend themselves.

He had asked her if she could go up and see what they were doing, not that he didn't trust his son and his friend or whatever she was to him, but he figured it wouldn't hurt to make a precaution. They didn't want another baby Judith situation after all.

"Ah. . . good, thanks." Rick looks back at Michonne then to the neighbourhood. He has an unreadable expression on his face. Michonne takes note of this, though.

"Trust me, with how shy Y/N is and how emotionally constipated your son is, you won't have to worry about another baby Jude in a good long while." She pats his back, reassuring him.

He silently thanks her, trying to believe what she's saying. But with how loose discipline is with the state of the world, He doesn't know how much that statement holds up when none of them know what they're like behind closed doors.

You'll never know until you find out.

oh wow, this one was a long fic, huh? I hope the wait was worth it guys, I really liked how this turned out ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و also the end bonus was just a silly little thing, i'm not sure if I would want to expand on it, it was just a throwaway line that sounded ominous and i'm a sucker for that :3 anyways ty for all of the support you've been giving me, I can't believe it honestly— I just want to thank all of you lovelies ! stay tuned and tell me if you want to be tagged next time I post !

what did you think ? don't be a silent reader and let me know ! °ʚ(´꒳`)ɞ°

tags : @carlslvr

#carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes x fem!reader #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes x you #the walking dead #twd #the walking dead x reader #𓂃🖊 — florette's fics

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livingdeadgirlflorette · 2 months ago

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ngl ur late night kisses fic might be my favorite carl one i’ve read 😭🫶

omg hi tysm! that means so much to me you don't even know (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ i'm pretty new to writing again and i'm still quite uncertain what my writing style is, but i'm glad it made you feel that ! if you wanna see more of my writing, i'll be posting the part 2 to late night kisses in about an hour or so so stay tuned ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

#carl grimes #carl grimes x fem!reader #carl grimes x reader #the walking dead #twd

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livingdeadgirlflorette · 2 months ago

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SO HIGH ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ carl grimes x reader

summary : getting caught smoking at your age isn't a good thing, but maybe getting caught smoking by the new guy's son isn't so bad at all, especially since he looked so cute.

tags / rundown : slight angst at the start, almost kissing, underage smoking, shotgunning, set in alexandria, carl is easily flustered, reader's parent's are pronounced dead (womp womp)

word count : 2.8k

a/n : this fic was inspired by me listening to so high by doja lols. since my midterms ended, i've decided to write this with my free time. hope it was worth it (∩_∩;) also i'll be writing a part 2 to "late night kisses", just dk where to start ( ´△｀) lmk if you want to be tagged in it!

dividers by @cafekitsune ꩜ .ᐟ

PART 2: YOUR FACE ⟡₊⋆∘

Alexandria seemed like such a pleasant escape from the shithole of the world we're living in today. Living almost two years by yourself from. . . unfortunate circumstances between your parents and an unexpected herd of walkers that had invaded your base camp. With a heavy heart and an even emptier stomach, that had left you scrounging for anything to survive. Food, water, a place to sleep in— it felt like you were just barely living day by day.

With all hope lost and no destination ahead, you just kept walking— no goal or end in mind, just walk until you found a place that could help you regain the empty feeling in you. To your surprise, a place like that still existed— a sanctuary called Alexandria. The first time you ever entered the gates, you felt like a deer in headlights. It all looked different from the outside world, giving you a sense of hope, a small beacon of hope that it would get better.

But even with all the good things that come with it, it still felt like you were so out of place. The pristine, large houses and the children laughing, acting as if nothing had ever even happened. Unrightfully, it irked you. They didn't know what it was like living day by day, not knowing if the last place you'd stay and shut your eyes for shelter in would be your last. They didn't know what it was like to starve, famished to the point you'd eat raw animal just so you could have something in your stomach. They didn't know what it was like to lose people by shooting them using their own gun. They didn't know.

All the feelings of jealousy, envy, and sadness spiraling in you, was overwhelming you to the point of just crying until you had no tears left. But you would never let them know that. It would be a stupid move to show weakness, especially in the state of the world. So you sneak out.

Sneaking out of Alexandria was a therapeutic event. Every time you do this it relaxes you, knowing what would come after would be the cherry on top to help you wind down and let your feelings fizzle out.

With you far enough from Alexandria where you knew no supply runners or recruiters would catch you, you walked through the forest, trying to find a place that's quiet. Seemingly in a matter of minutes, you find a small clearing. Peaceful and from your scoping of the forest, no walkers.

You sit down next to a tree and put your bags down, then finally sitting down, leaning on the large vegetation. Pulling out a pack of cigarettes, you fiddle around your jacket pockets and suddenly stop when you hear a voice call out to you, seemingly unimpressed.

"You know that kills you, right?" You turn around to put a body to the disembodied voice, and you see it's the boy from that one group that Aaron had recruited. You weren't that tuned in to the whole story, but you saw enough to know that they were like you, different, in the sense that you'd been out there, living through the apocalypse.

From overhearing Ron and Mikey talk about if they should him to play videogames, you knew the boy's name was Carl. He was cute, interesting, boyish in a way that he still had that youthful face, yet he was mature to have so much control over his emotions and body language and the way he carried himself.

If it were someone different, you'd just ignore the person and tell them to leave you alone. But you had the idea Carl wouldn't be such an annoyance to you, so you decide to entertain yourself by speaking with him.

"That's kind of the point." Finally, you find you lighter in your back pocket and proceed to tap on the cigarette box, pulling one out and putting it between your lips.

You didn't what to continue talking right now, wanting to just focus on matter at hand. You were thinking how to tell him but you were pleasantly surprised to see that he'd gotten the message, and just walked next to the spot on your tree, and sat down next to you.

Raising an eyebrow at him, you question his motive. Why would he even talk to you? more so why would he try to sit next to you? he has nothing to gain from this. . .

Continuing your actions, you flick open the lighter and the fire sparks burst out, creating a small flame. It fills you with relaxation. You lean in, just close enough to light your cigarette and when you finally inhale the comforting tobacco— you sigh out the smoke, lazily blinking. Your eyes dart up to the sky, watching the smoke from your mouth go up and away.

You look back to Carl, realizing you barely noticed he'd comfortably situated himself— with his signature sheriff's hat that he donned on the grass next to him and a comic book open in his hands.

You guess he wouldn't really be a nuisance, he would just be next to you while you let out your puffs of tobacco. So you scoot a little closer to him. What you didn't notice was how he saw you moving closer, unable to hide a ghost of a smile before it disappeared completely.

The sky was turning into an entrancing shade of cool colors. It seemed like time passes faster when you're smoking, only focused on changing the cigarette when it's on its last puff, and breathing in and slowly out to watch the result of your sighs for it to go up into presumably the clouds. You wish you could stay here forever. Carl was quietly reading the second comic book he'd brought, not having any plan to talk to you and your relaxed state. The boy's company was actually, comforting in the sense that you had someone with you.

But you had noticed he kept glancing at you and more so, your lips. You know the reason. He's obviously curious. From your knowledge, teenage boys are typically rebellious, so you figured he'd want to try a small puff.

The silence that had been enveloping the majority of your time together was broken by you.

"You want to try it?" His eyes jolt up from the scene in the comic he's reading, sincerely surprised you'd ask.

"I- uh- yeah i'd like to uhm— I wanna try it." He tries to find the right words, but seemingly they all just turn into mush when he sees you.

Your eyes are lidded, your body languid— presumably from all the tobacco you'd been smoking, and your lips are plump, slightly open. With that look, it's enough to send blood rushing to his cheeks, his eyes darting blinking rapidly and looking slightly down to hide his blossoming blush.

Even in your smoke-induced haze, you still notice this. Seeing him act all bashful and shy in front of you, it makes you feel giddy inside. You let out an airy chuckle and you hand him the cigarette.

"Knock yourself out." You tell him. With a nervous gaze, he musters up his courage and looks at you. Hesitantly taking the cigarette in your hands. But you undoubtedly notice his hands brush against yours as he took the lit stick of tobacco.

Carl then calculatively puts the cigarette in his mouth, inhaling before letting out a dry heaving cough. You giggle at him, you know it's a common mistake but he just looks so cute trying to do it properly.

"How do you even do it without coughing—" His words were cut off by another cough he let out, he seemed like he was having a hard time so you gently put your hand on his back, lightly patting it to help him cough.

"It's okay, I kept coughing a fit the first time I did it." You assured him, wondering how you could help him get through it, until you finally clicked, realizing what you should do to have him experience it properly.

"Do you want me to help you?" Your voice is gentle and calm so you don't startle him. He looks at you, his coughing had seemed to cease. His posture went straight, eyebrows furrowed. What could you possibly to do help him smoke without him wheezing?

Carl silently gives you an okay, slightly nodding as he does. "Don't freak out, okay?" He's curious, what would you do to help him? But then he sees your actions, you take the cigarette in between his calloused fingers and put it back into your mouth, taking in a small intake.

He's uncertain on what you're about to do, questions going in and out of his head. But you silence those answers by taking the cigarette out of your mouth, then grabbing his chin with your free hand to have his face an inch apart from yours.

His mouth is open in awe and disbelief. He can feel his heart beating out of his chest when you take you open your mouth, slowly blowing the smoke into his mouth. He quickly understands what you're doing, slowly breathing in the puff of smoke with his mouth.

With the last blow of your lips sending the smoke, You make eye contact with him. Your eyes were all this time trained on his lips, focusing so he wouldn't move. His breath hitches when he finally has all of the smoke you had in your mouth.

It's overwhelming for Carl, really— knowing all the puffs of tobacco he had in his mouth were in yours, and how close you still are to his face, it makes him want to shoot his heart out into the darkening sky. Realizing he's been looking too long at your face and not releasing the smoke, he lets it out slowly, watching your every move.

You look at him, letting a small smirk grace your face as you lean back. He doesn't know why he has such a dissatisfied feeling when you pull back though, It's so perplexing to him.

"We should get back to the gates, I think your father would be worried that his son's been missing." You put the cigarette out, standing up and patting your jeans off, shooing the dirt off your clothing. You look back to Carl, the emotion on his face evidently stupefied.

"Yeah— my dad's probably looking for me by now so," He scrambles also to fix himself up, turning slightly away from you. He tries to find more words, but it leaves him with only a few.

"We should go." He finally says. He wanted to save himself from the embarrassment he'd feel from you seeing his blush.

Carl thought what he was doing was ridiculous though; it was getting dark, you wouldn't be able to see color on his face unless you were close and squinted hard enough. But he does so anyway.

The rest of the walk back to Alexandria you're standing side by side, walking with him. You fail to ignore that tingly and rushed feeling whenever his hands accidentally brush yours, making your cheeks flush. You look at him, curious if he also felt the way feeling you were experiencing.

Carl felt quite befuddled, he was so perplexed at the thought of you. There was a swirling feeling in his heart. He wondered if what he was feeling was just from the nicotine in those cigarettes or if it was because of you, but then his question gets answered when he looks at you.

With the eye contact you guys had, you smile bashfully and look straight back at the path. He made you smile, and that was enough for him to know he was interested. He wanted to know more about you, and what it would feel like to have your face close to him again. Hopefully next time it would be to feel your lips on his, and not just the smoke.

I'm not sure if I like this, but it fueled my imagination of smoking with Carl so I don't really mind (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ

#carl grimes x fem!reader #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes #carl grimes fanfiction #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead #twd #twd x reader #twd x you #carl grimes x you #𓂃🖊 — florette's fics

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livingdeadgirlflorette · 2 months ago

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LATE NIGHT KISSES ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ carl grimes x fem!reader

tags / rundown : fluff, slightly suggestive, set in alexandria, straddling, making out, friends-that-make-out-'cause-that's-normal, getting caught

word count: 1.56k

a/n : hello! first ever fic on tumblr lols, i've never really thought of posting anything here but I think the carl daydreams in class are getting to be too much >_< also i'm not really that fluent in english, english isn't my first language so please bare with me ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

dividers by @cafekitsune .𖥔 ݁ ˖

PART 2: ARE WE STILL FRIENDS? ₊˚✩⊹

It wouldn't be a surprise to anyone how much you have a silly teenage girl crush on the leader's son, Carl Grimes. They think it's cute, seeing you get all flushed cause he places his hands around your waist when passing through you and you getting all tongue tied when he asks if you're okay.

Or when you guys were having dinner with the group at Maggie and Glenn's house and he tells you that there's something on your face, then proceeds to use his own hand to rub it off, all the while unintentionally caressing your face. To add more fuel to the fire, everybody shows knowing looks and silent chuckles with one another. It takes all of your willpower not to combust from being flustered and embarassed cause not only did he just unexpectedly caress your face unintentionally, everybody in the group had seen the interaction go down. . . Including his father, Rick.

It all chalks up to just a small infatuation with him, that's all. You're just a girl, you get crushes. It's all just an innocent crush. Given the way that Daryl had described you back when he had caught you sneaking around the forest scrounging for food, you looked teary and doe-eyed, as if you couldn't hurt a fly. Oh Little Miss Y/N, so cute and naive. They wouldn't have thought anything else.

But you'd pay to see the look on their faces when they find out that you'd sneaking into Carl's window just to sit on his lap on his comforter and kiss him through the night. Then with the sliver of dawn seeping through his bedroom curtains, an unspoken meaning where you slip away back where you came in, as if there was nothing between you two.

And that's where you are right now, on his bed with your knees straddling his lap with your arms around his neck, his hands hesitantly going through your waist and drawing soft circles while you two kiss.

You smile into the kiss due to this. It's cute really, how no matter how many times you have his mouth between yours he'll always act as if it's the first time you've ever done something like this. He handles you with such care and delicacy, as if any sudden movement and you'd break, treating you like a porcelain doll. Pulling away, you figured a teasing comment now and then wouldn't hurt the mood.

"Aren't you just sweet?" A small airy chuckle leaves your mouth as you lazily smile, eyes lidded with lethargy from just kissing.

The look on his face is enough to tell you that he wasn't annoyed at your quip, but he seemed as if he's tired of it.

Sighing, he leans in to kiss your lips and pulled away to put his mouth near your ear. As he got closer, you could feel his breath on your ear everytime he exhaled.

"Don't get too cocky now." He smiled as he leans back to get a full view of you, all tired and giggly just from kisses between you and him. You look at his face then specifically to his lips, until going back to his gaze.

Neither one of you seemed like you wanted this to end, going slow and chaste with each touch. Every caress and hold he leaves on your skin is tingly, leaving you hot and unarguably bothered.

Carl seemed like he wanted to take it a little further, leaving you surprised when he slowly but surely puts his hand on the nape of your neck, adding a slight pull to deepen the kiss.

Evidently shocked, when you pull away slightly with your mouth slightly agape until Carl leans in more to capture it, turning the seemingly chaste kisses between the two of you into something more. No matter how different it felt, there was no denying how much you both found it so pleasurable.

As Carl keeps leaning in with his hand still on the nape of your neck, he lays you down on the headboard delicately. When you both pull away, you both just gaze at each other, basking in the loving mood that had been created. With his body on your side with his face still near yours, you both decide leaning in for another kiss wouldn't be the worst idea.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. With all the making out with Carl made you relaxed and sleepy, you barely registered a firm knock on Carl's bedroom door. You both pause and look at the door then look to each other.

Who'd be knocking this late at night?

"Carl? You okay in there?" Shit. You could tell who's that firm but caring voice came from, and it was obviously Rick's.

Like headless chickens, you and Carl scramble to find a hiding spot for you before Rick gave himself the go-ahead to enter, ending up with you under his bed frame.

The door opens and you see Rick's socks entering Carl's room. Luckily before Rick could get in, Carl had situated himself on the bed, going under the covers making it look like he had been preparing to go to sleep.

"Hey Dad, what's wrong?" Carl asked while rubbing his eye, feigning sleepiness.

Breathing is easy, but it felt a lot more stuffy when your friends' Dad is one movement away from finding you under his son's bed. Even so, you cover your mouth, trying your best to breathe evenly. All of a sudden Rick's weight is on the side of the bed, with him sitting on it looking at Carl lovingly.

"No, it's– it's nothin', I was just thinkin' about since i've been so busy here now, I never really got to give you the chance to talk to me." He places his hand on Carl's shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze.

"I just wanted to tell you that no matter how hectic I get— if you got any trouble, be it problems for yourself or problems about. . . a girl, you know where to find me." He smiled at Carl, the latter doing the same to him also.

"Thanks Dad, that— that means a lot." Carl smiled and Rick pulled Carl in for a hug.

This was such a heartwarming scene, if it weren't for the girl seeming under Carl's bed, waiting to be let out. She felt as if she was gonna panic any moment now, plus the fact that she was feeling guilty. Rick was having a heart-to-heart with Carl and all she could think about was about how he laid her down, with his lips chapped yet still soft against hers, the room filled with silence other than their bated breaths.

With both people pulling away, Rick sat up and adjusted his shirt. There wasn't really anything he needed to adjust, he just really needed to fidget with something, otherwise it'll make it awkward.

"I'll see you at breakfast. G'night Carl." He ruffled his son's hair then smiled. Carl seemed to also smile, letting out an chuckle.

"Goodnight Dad." Before Rick could leave the room he looked as if he was contemplating. I guess he finally made a decision when he decided to say one last goodnight.

"Goodnight Y/N." Rick smiled then shook his head chuckling before closing the door.

Y/N crawled out under the bed, mouth slightly agape, and panicked. She didn't know what to think. Rick knew? If Rick knew how did he know? Did the others know also?

"How in the hell does he know? We were so careful too." She said, slight awed. They really were careful, acting as if nothing was going on behind the scenes. She plopped down on the side of the bed next to him, leaving out a sigh then shutting her eyes.

Carl leans forward, with his head nearing hers. "I'm not even sure how. But since he knows it doesn't really matter anymore, so does that mean we can. . ." Carl trailed off, then glancing at her lips, then back at her eyes.

Scoffing with a smile, she immediately got up.

"You cannot be serious right now Carl!" She chastised him softly, and started to ready her stuff as fast as she can.

"I'm seriously not going to stay here any longer. I don't know how much embarassment I can handle knowing Rick, your father knows about this and outright acknowledged me!" She uttered, "I think it's best if I go, I think I can't handle any more guilt 'cause I feel like i'm gonna burst—"

but before she could pack up any further Carl had stood up and went to her to grab both her wrists to stop her from doing anything else.

"Hey, look at me." Carl let go of her wrists and gently used his right hand lift her chin up. He kissed her chastely, then pulled away to look at her.

"We can handle this. I'll be with you, okay? It's not as bad as you think." He assured her, then placed a loving kiss to her forehead then placing it against his, holding her with such love and care.

"Let's just hope the others haven't found out yet, they'll never let us live it down." You joked, trying to lighten the mood. Luckily it worked, with Carl smiling back at you.

"I don't think it would be so bad, them knowing you're mine."

this one was a doozy, i'm thinking if i wanna make a part two to this hihi (๑>◡<๑) don't be a silent reader and let me know!

#carl grimes x fem!reader #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes #the walking dead #the walking dead x reader #carl grimes x y/n #twd #twd x reader #twd x you #𓂃🖊 — florette's fics

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