#carl grimes deserved better

[lunarnightt]

That little side smirk. This little shit is up to no good

[lykomeraki]

Carl Grimes Deserved Better

I first mentioned this in an earlier post after I finished the Walking Dead for the first time, and my thoughts about the show. If you're like me, you probably agree that what happened to Carl was the worst story decision ever. So here's a lot of thoughts I've been sitting on for a while. If you'd like to read or commiserate with me about my rant/character study please continue reading. Caution: Spoilers Ahead

First off, killing off one of the main characters, particularly in this way, did nothing but damage the story. I read that they were trying to gain even more viewers in a similar way to game of thrones, a book and TV series unafraid of killing off main characters. In the case of Game of Thrones however the main character deaths made sense for the story, the individual storylines for these characters were complete, and their deaths could contribute to the stories of other major characters. the Walking Dead failed at this a myriad of times, giving smaller characters good development, then killing them just for shock value. Carl's death in particular. It provided no true motivation for any characters, he still had unfinished storylines, it only damaged the story itself, and there was so much potential and so many places his character could go.

in the comics, there didn't need to be a major death for Rick to spare Negan, his mercy was actually a punishment. the world would grow, improve, and repair itself, and Negan could only watch, never be a part of it.

If there needed to be a death to convince rick to have mercy, it is my opinion that Morgan would have been a far better choice, particularly as his ideologies kept shifting between kill everything and life is sacred. His character would be leaving the show at the end of season 8 anyway. It makes more sense story wise, it could have been that Morgan got bit or fatally injured, and in his last moments of life he encouraged Rick to have mercy. This makes a lot more sense then Carl's sudden turn to pacifism at the beginning of season 8, particularly since he fired the the first shots of the war in 7,16.

Carl played a key part in Negan's character development, being the first one to actually reach his small ember of humanity. Judith took over this particular storyline, and while I think she is a cool character with a phenomenal actress, she simply isn't the same. Carl actually has a history with Negan, both with him being the villain, and also with him having an almost mentor-like attitude towards him, touching on Negan's past as a gym teacher.

Rick Grimes leaving the show was also a bitter pill, one whose negative effect could have been lessened with Carl's survival. The only original group members still present are Daryl and Carol. and while they're great, it now feels like a completely different show. Michonne leaves too, so the only Grimes are Judith and RJ. Neither of whom had any real development. RJ simply existed, and Judith's skill level and character didn't make sense for her age, and the relatively easy life she must of had during the time skip bar being kidnapped by Jocelyn. Her shooting ability and skill with her little katana didn't make sense living in a place where she didn't have to grow up fighting and in danger like Carl did. Carl could have provided that feeling of the original Grimes family who were the ultimate focus and purpose of this story, a father and his son suriving in the apocalypse, and the friends, family, and enemies they make and lose along the way. with the loss of both rick and especially Carl, (since Rick didn't even die so his new story would still make sense even if Carl survived.) the walking dead no longer feels like the same story, and not in a way where it naturally evolved. it simply doesn't make as mush sense anymore in regards to the characters they have.

Carl ultimately had the best character development, growing from an annoying bratty kid who doesn't understand that there are new dangers in this world, to a teen who is wise to the world and it's dangers, and is capable of protecting himself, and helping his loved ones. he is also able to retain a sense of compassion, not becoming a soulless killing machine like Morgan did briefly, Herschel intervening and helping with his development to keep him off that path when he shot the teen from Woodbury. towards the end, he was really coming into himself, becoming a very fleshed-out character and becoming a very good leader in his own right, he could have helped Michonne and/or Tara after Rick and Maggie left and they took over Alexandria and Hilltop respectively. I believe that despite Michonne orders of complete isolation even from their friends, Carl still would have visited and reached out to Hilltop and Kingdom, even being a friend and mentor to Henry, who I personally think was a little whiney. Henry still could have had the romantic storyline with Lydia, because Carl would likely continue to pursue Enid. but he could have been a friend and ally to Lydia in a similar way to Daryl.

the manner of Carl's death was also dumb to the point of disrespectful. he got pinned by one walker and bitten by another when a few years ago he was able to get out from under three without a scratch. while Siddiq did become a good character, his death (which was also pointless) rendered Carl's sacrifice completely pointless. they also didn't even need to be killing those walkers, Carl was helping Siddiq honor his mother's belief that killing walkers released the dead souls. an interesting belief and concept Siddiq never brings up or seems to follow again.

Carl's death was anticlimactic, cheap shock value, and again I state: pointless. He is possibly my favorite TV character ever, with some of the best development I've seen, similar to Sansa Stark, going from annoying and inflated self-confidence to wisdom, capability, and experience. truly growing as a character with believeable flaws and relatable growth.

Losing Sophia, costing Dale his life by treating walkers like a game, Losing Shane and his Mother, Killing the teen and Herschel's intervention, losing the prison, Herschel, and temporarily Judith, the Claimers, the Termites, his interactions with Ron and the loss of his eye, Glenn's and Abraham's awful death's, his desire for revenge and his failed attempt on Negan's life, and the following consequences and interactions with him that followed. all of these experiences contributed to his growth. he learned his capabilities, and when he got too cocky, he was knocked down a peg by real consequences. when Judith acted out, rebelled, took on an enemy, or got cocky, there were no consequences, direct or otherwise. when Carl's skill, self-confidence, or ego grew, there were still consequences that made sense. this gave him a better character and more relatability and humanity, making mistakes and learning from them.

I never expected to get this attached to a character, and will be salty about how they treated Carl and Chandler Riggs for a very long time. (I'm not even going to get into how they treated the actor but it was awful) thank you for listening to (reading) my rant, feel free to commiserate about Carl or other undeserved TWD character deaths in the comments.

[wontlasttwodays]

These conflicts you bring up are exactly what the latter show needed. The relationships were so hollow and the dialogue so vague. Not only would he modulate to Michonne's mindset, but also missing Daryl, and talking to Negan.

Would Carl also believe that Rick was out there? Or would he just be respectful of the need for hope? Perhaps he'd observe the days where she wore Rick's shirts or quiet corners of the house where, during tense times, she talked to herself like she was talking to Rick.

He only interrupted her one time and that was when she was worried about the new people and reopening. He needed her to debate it with him and not a ghost.

Perhaps, Carl would have a hard time letting people into his confidence, his trust, while locked into Alexandria. Perhaps what happened between him and Ron, his disability after, what happened to Michonne by Jocelyn, gave him ptsd. So for himself he mends his philosophy that sure you can help people, protect people, but you can't have friends. Perhaps despite Carl's efforts to mask and be brotherly, RJ feels Carl is distant and hard to know. [Like the Prepan/Postpan relationships in Station Eleven.]

This is how Lydia and Carl would have bonded over deep suspicion and common mistrust. Not fear, not rejection, just trauma induced wariness. [cough*Richonne*cough]

If Carl isn't with Michonne when she finds Rick's artifacts, then perhaps we see him struggle not only with parenting his siblings in their absence, but also with the belief that he was alive. Perhaps Lydia can't assist with kiddos/be motherly because TRIGGERED. Lydia only available to him as a girlfriend adds to Carl's feelings of a divided life. When the Commonwealth offers to take them in, our tired boy is swayed.

Carl could've made this story so much more interesting.

This has been said so many times, but Richonne's story couldve had so much more depth if Carl had survived.

They could've explored how he'd feel about Michonne's change of heart about letting people in after the Jocelyn incident, and he could've changed her mind about giving people a chance again. They could've let Judith be more of a child instead of an adult in a child's body, going toe to toe with Michonne on existential issues (I always thought she was a little too precocious and young to be arguing with Michonne about issues she has no life experience dealing with.) If Carl was checking Michonne about her mindset it would make so much more sense because he's older with actual experience with people.

The whisperer arc which was written to involve Carl could've had so much more meaning had Carl been with Lydia instead of Henry.

They could've explored the difficulty Carl could have being a parent to his siblings while Michonne goes to find Rick. Maybe he has to protect Judith who is very headstrong like Michonne and wants to go after Rick herself. Maybe RJ has a dark side and is starting to become cold like Carl was at his age, and doing dumb things like sneaking out of the walls, and Carl has to think about how Rick would solve that problem since Rick is his only Dad reference. Maybe Carl doesn't want to be a parent, and just wants to be a normal 20ish year old after his hard childhood, and he holds resentment towards both Rick and Michonne for leaving all their children. Any of those scenarios would be fascinating.

Instead, they killed Carl off and left Daryl (who left), and Carol (who left) to raise their kids. They could've had a goldmine of fascinating conflicts and situations to pick from.

[lilhoeforevanpeters]

could you make more carl grimes anything please!! smut, fluff anything for him!! male reader preferably if you can :)!

Love you to the Moon and to Saturn

Thanks for the request, sorry it took so long!

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Carl Grimes x GN! Reader

You watched the boy who had your heart walk away from you, leaving you alone in the bed. With a sigh you get up to follow him, watching as he stands in front of the mirror of the bathroom. Wrapping your arms around him from behind, he turns to look at you slightly before turning back to his reflection, his covered eye giving him a silent complex. 

“Come back to bed,” you say softly to Carl, though your request seems to fall on deaf ears. He continues to mess with his bandage, it obviously causing him discomfort.

“Carl,” your words cause him to pause and look at you in the mirror.

“Yeah?”

“What’s wrong?” He lets out a quiet exhale and responds in a quiet and gruff tone. 

“Nothin’”

“Bullshit,” he raises his eyebrow at you before turning around, his back to the mirror now as he looks down at you. He’s studying your face, for reasons you’re unsure of, but you continue to look up at him. Reaching up to brush hair from his face, your hand then rests down to his cheek, caressing it gently. Carl tenses up slightly since he’s nervous with how close your fingers are to his scar. Noticing this you rest your hand to his shoulder, before standing on your tip toes and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He rests his hand down to your waist, kissing you back tenderly. 

“Come back to bed,” you whisper against his lips. He pulls you into him, craving to be closer to you. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead before pulling away from you, mumbling a quiet ‘okay’. 

Crawling back into bed and under the covers, you roll over to face him, Carl laying on his side towards you. You move to be in his arms, forcing your way there if you had to, although Carl didn’t mind, and he wrapped his arms around you, stroking your hair. With a glance up to him, you murmur quietly to him.

“You know, you’re really pretty.” Your words make him pause his movements, making him sigh slightly before continuing to run his fingers through your hair.

“You get like this every time you’re tired.” It was true, you wouldn’t stop talking whenever you were exhausted, and poor Carl had to deal with it nearly every night. You move even closer to him- if that was even a possibility, curling up to his side.

“But it’s true, you are.”

“I’m not. You are, but I am not.” You roll your eyes exasperated, why couldn’t he just take a compliment?

“Fine then, you’re handsome.”

“That's not what I meant,” 

“You’re hot,”

“Stop it, go to bed.”

“But you are,” “Shush.” With a soft smile playing on your lips you lean your head back down against his chest, whispering to get the last word in.

“You are really hot though,” he quietly groans and turns you away from him, making you drop your jaw slightly. He bites back a smile, still not bringing you back into his arms, although when you slowly inch closer to him he doesn’t pull back. Carl brings his head down to yours, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, as he murmurs, “I love you.” As much as he hated to admit, you had a way of bringing light into his life like no one else could, a way of making him believe the things you say to him, like the compliments.

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[banshees-martin]

lori grimes they could never make me hate you

[paleshelter29]

Am I upset about how the TWD writers just killed off the potential badass storylines and character arcs of all my favorite characters??? No. What gave anyone that impression? ​*Sobs* in Carl, Henry, Enid, Beth, and Benjamin deserved better

[zz0mbiex]

!!WARNING: late twd season 8 spoilers!!

__________________________________________

me whenever someone reminds me that my comfort character (carl grimes) is DEAD.

[negansbestie]

reading one of my favorite fics on wattpad (where they let glenn live, thank god), i realized that i haven't read any where they let carl live 🥲

[allthegothihopgirls]

i miss the grimes kids.

[lunarnightt]

For my Carl fans; HE WASN’T SIXTEEN!!! HE WAS FIFTEEN WHEN HE DIED!

So he actually would have looked like this in season eight;

He was barely even 5’3 in this picture, he was just a baby!

[lykomeraki]

TWD

So, I just finished all 11 seasons of the walking dead and I have some.... thoughts.

I just started watching twd a couple of months ago, and I never thought I would get this emotionally attached to a show, like it so much, and also be disappointed in it. It is one of my favorite shows if not THE favorite, but I feel like it definitely could have been handled better.

I'll try to avoid getting into the full rant circulating through my mind but seriously, the last three seasons didn't even feel like it was the same show anymore. I know this kind of post has been done a bunch of times before, but I think they definitely lost sight of what the story was supposed to be about. A father, and his son surviving the apocalypse. I know there was a lot of stuff going on behind the scenes, but killing off Carl Grimes was the worst decision a show ever made and I will die on this hill.

I cannot accurately describe in one post how I feel this show was both incredibly great, and handled so poorly. There were characters that got awesome development, only to be killed off as soon as they started to become good characters. Beth, Tyreese, Denise, Noah, and so many others. Carl had the greatest character development, we literally watched him grow up on the show, and Chandler Riggs did an awesome job bringing that character to life. the way the character and the actor were treated still makes me furious.

Nevertheless, I loved the show, and the last few seasons did have some gems. But I never thought I would get this invested in a show, or in these characters. I'm honestly thinking about writing more about this, because right now it's just living in my head rent-free.

thanks for listening (reading, I know) to my thoughts on this. this was an incredible show, and Carl Grimes was easily my favorite character. From season three onward I guess, he was a bit annoying at first, but you know, a young kid, whose world has drastically changed, and he's still learning what that means in the first two seasons. anyway, just wanted to get that off my chest because wow, this show really got me invested.

[miasmultifandomdump]

Sometimes I think about catching up on The Walking Dead. Then I remember the reasons I quit watching.

[lilhoeforevanpeters]

Helping Hand

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Carl Grimes x Reader (gender not specified)

Summary: after a long day, you just want to help your boyfriend relax

Warnings: graphic descriptions of sexual activities, Oral (M! receiving), moaning, I'm pretty sure that's it

HE'S AGED UP IN THIS

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You gently knock on his bedroom window, sitting on the flat tiled roof. Carl approaches his window with a slight smile on his face when he sees you. He opens the window and pulls you into his bedroom, kissing your neck softly as he wraps his arms around your waist.

"Hey you," you whisper in his ear as he hugs you and leans down to kiss your neck, and you can feel him smile against it

"Hey. I missed you," He mumbles into your hair, his voice a little hoarse. His arms are around you, creating little to no space between you as he clings onto you. You kiss his cheek gently under his scar.

"You okay?" You ask softly, taking his face into your hands, caressing his scarred cheek. Carl seems withdrawn as he slightly nods his head, not wanting to let go of you.

You can tell your boyfriend just needs a little bit of rest and comfort right now- he needs to be taken care of, and who better to do that than you?

"Carl... honey... come on, sit down, let me take care of you..." You caress his cheek as he sits down on the edge of his bed.

You stand in between his legs and your hands move down to the belt on his jeans, your eyes looking up at his face for approval to continue. He nods and allows you to unbuckle his belt, gently sliding his jeans off, giving you enough room to move aside his underwear.

You lower yourself onto your knees as he sits onto the bed, taking his firm erection in your hand, pumping it lightly before swirling your tongue around the tip- collecting his salty pre-cum.

"Shit, Y/N," Carl moans out quietly, throwing his head back slightly as you continue moving, bringing your lips and mouth up and down his veiny cock. The plush walls of your warm mouth sucking him off arousing him further, making his hips bucking slightly and his fingers entangled in your hair. You're really making a mess out of him.

Carl's dick twitches in your mouth, your hand wrapped around the shaft of his cock, jerking him off as your other hand moves up to cup his balls. With your head bobbing up and down on his hard member, he lets out a shuddering moan, before his impending climax crashes over him- his hot, pearly white release filling your mouth, running down your throat as you swallow his cum.

Carl caresses the side of your face, his mouth slightly agape from his previous orgasam, beads of sweat lining his forehead. He smiles tiredly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"Thank you, sweetie... I needed that..." He whispers softly, pulling you into a hug. Right now, all Carl wanted was to just go to be able to rest stress free with his lover.

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[banshees-martin]

i honestly hate how everyone in twd treated rick after carl died like that was his little boy :(( ☹️

[phasewashere]

RIP carl grimes you wouldve loved destroyed by hippie powers by carseat headrest

[cherrycherrylady2024]

Christmas with the Grimes'

(Dilf Rick Grimes x reader) Word count: 3,327

Warnings 18+: Drinking, mentions of sex, kissing, incredible sexual tension, very sensuous bandaging, this is so hot i love this chapter

Chapter 5: Reach out and touch

It felt like a sign. Or instant karma. Your face was hot with embarrassment as you shakily picked yourself up, stumbling twice in the process. Judith and co. had already made a full lap around the rink and skated up to you at the perfect time to watch you fall yet again. “Shit, y/n! Are you okay?” Judith exclaimed, quickly skating over to you and helping you stand. Why the fuck is everyone in this town an Olympic pro skater? You brushed it off with a laugh, concealing your chagrin. Your unfortunately un-gloved palms were already red and thumping with pain, along with your knee which had smashed into the ice. Marsha looked you up and down, a hint of a sneer on her lips, “Do you want one of those?” she questioned, pointing at a kid wobbling around the ice, using a walker. A few others were strewn about, clearly meant for the idiots who couldn’t skate. Judith shot her a look and you tried to conceal your irritation. “No, thanks though. I’m just rusty,” you say gritting your teeth. Marsha smiled faux-sweetly and zipped off, spraying a bit of ice in her wake. Daniel looked at you, a hint of worry, before following Marsha. “I’m sorry y/n, Marsha’s a bitch sometimes,” Judith said, interlinking her arm with yours. You didn’t respond, as you felt tears prickling the back of your eyes. Everything was bubbling up to the surface. You were feeling so many things so heavily and quickly that you weren’t sure how to handle it all.

But still, you refused to cry. 

Judith did a lap with you around the rink as you gained your bearings, before you shooed her off to try on your own. She stayed a few feet away, watching you, in case you fell. She was a good friend. Your best friend. And you wanted to fuck her dad. You are despicable. Every time you fell, you almost felt like you deserved it. You got the hang of it just barely towards the end, but only after slamming into the barriers, the ground, and a few other people. After an hour on the ice, your hands were scraped and bruised, your pants torn on one knee, and you ached all over. Marsha and Daniel said their goodbyes, which you barely acknowledged. The car ride home was quiet between you and Judith, except for some Christmas music playing over the radio. You kept your eyes trained out of the window, exhausted emotionally and physically. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see her glancing at you now and then. She finally spoke, “Y’know…you could’ve told me you can’t skate.” She said this gently, not judging. It wasn’t accusatory, or mean, or bitchy, she was entirely genuine. Your frustrations melted away. You loved her. You looked at her tiredly, not saying anything as she returned your gaze. After a moment, a small smile began to form on her lips and you couldn’t help but return it. You let out a giggle. She snorted, her smile growing. Before you knew it you were both cackling with laughter, Judith even wiping a tear from her eye. It was pretty ridiculous, you look like you had been in a bar fight. Judith slowed to a stop in front of Carol’s house again and Carl got in the car, your laughter just winding down. He paused for a second, “What happened to you?” he questioned. You and Judith immediately burst into laughter again. You felt better.

~~~

You walked back into the Grimes house, your bones aching. You wanted a hot shower and perhaps a few bandaids. You remembered with feverish excitement that Rick would be home, and you headed into the kitchen, assuming he would be preparing dinner. Except he wasn’t there. He wasn’t in the dining room either. Or the living room. You felt both panic and disappointment rise in you. “Dad’s working late again!” you hear Judith yell from the kitchen. You speed walk back in, and try to seem nonchalant. Judith flicks a note towards you, “He didn’t leave pizza money either. Leftovers I guess.” You picked up the note, reading and re-reading it.

‘Working late, not sure when I’ll be home. Be good. Sweet dreams if I don't see you - Dad’ 

It was a simple note, probably scrawled quickly during his lunch break. Not much to read into. Except you were nearly 100% sure the last line was meant for you. It had to be. While you were supremely let down, you also felt a sense of vindication. It was there. It was real.

The three of you heated up Chinese leftovers and enjoyed your small feast on the couch, watching Christmas movies. You had fully emerged from your bit of moodiness and enjoyed Judith and Carl's company. Sure Judith had a terrible habit of talking through movies, and yes, Carl couldn’t sit still for more than 10 seconds, but it was a comfort to you. The fireplace warmed the three of you, snuggled up in blankets, and you realized that you felt the most at home you have in a very, very long time. Maybe it was because you felt validated by the note, or maybe you were just tired, but the time flew by surprisingly fast. Before you knew it, Carl was headed to bed and you had said your goodnights to the Grimes siblings. You got in the shower after Judith around 9 pm, the warm water soothing your aching body. You were surprised to find a few more scrapes and bruises that had been concealed by your clothing, but you didn’t care enough to ask for bandaids at this point. You methodically picked out and put on a pair of pajamas before diving under the covers, already chilly. You set your alarm for 2 am, and fell asleep with surprising ease.

~~~

Your heart fluttered in your chest as you tip-toed down the stairs, hoping against all hope that Rick would be in the kitchen. Just like last night. Just like every night for the rest of time if you were lucky. You padded into the kitchen, silent as the dead, holding your breath in anticipation. 

He sat at the kitchen island once more, studying the newspaper's crossword under the small lamp, his whiskey by his side. You breathed a sigh of relief, and he looked up, an expression of mild surprise followed by a smile. “Back again?” He remarked. His smile briefly faltered as he surveyed your appearance; your nearly-see-through tank top which left little to the imagination in the chilly house, your shorty shorts which looked small enough to be underwear, and your scraped and bruised knees. He looked like he wanted to ask, but thought better of it. You had a sudden wave of panic. What the fuck were you doing? “Couldn’t sleep,” you stated. He nodded his head, glancing back down toward his newspaper, “More dreams?” You scoffed and walked over to him, the cold tiles of the kitchen shocking your feet. You sidled up right next to him, standing only a few inches away as he sat. He turned his head slowly, blue eyes wandering up your frame to look at you, his face slightly lower than yours. His expression was slightly questioning yet indulgent of your little show. You glanced down at him with a sly smile before bending over and reading his crossword questions out loud to yourself. You could feel his gaze linger on your body, stretched over him. “This one is wrong, Rick,” you said definitively, pointing out one of the rows he had filled in. Rick, Rick, Rick. You loved to say his name, but you felt a twinge of fear when he looked at you, raising his eyebrow slightly. Didn’t he tell you to call him Rick? The corners of his mouth lifted into a half-smirk. “Oh is it?” he said sarcastically, more of a statement than a question. Your leg brushed up against his, neither of you moving away. “Mhm. Pencil,” you commanded, hand outstretched. He chortled, shaking his head and handing you the pencil.

You had gripped the end of it before he suddenly stopped, and in the blink of an eye, both his hands quickly cupped your outstretched one. “What happened here?” He questioned, more concerned than you expected. You regretted not putting on bandaids earlier, as you felt your face go slightly warm. “Oh- I… fell. Like a lot. On the ice. It was sort of mortifying,” you admitted. You hated the thought of him thinking you were some clumsy kid. He moved your hand around, inspecting it, his grip on your wrist secure and warm. The fingers of his other hand gently brushed across your own, opening up your hand more. He stood and moved past you in an instant, his hand brushing your waist, sending more goosebumps across your skin. “It’s fine really, it doesn’t hurt,” you said. He ignored you, ducking into a cupboard and emerging with a first aid kit. He cracked it open and brought the lamp closer to you two, before patting the counter, “Hop up.” You obeyed and climbed onto the counter. He situated himself slightly in between your outstretched knees, close enough that you could wrap your legs around him if you wanted to. And you did want to. You weren’t embarrassed by your ice skating battle scars anymore. In fact, this was the best possible way this situation could go. Thank god you're terrible at ice skating. You tried not to smile.

Rick put some Neosporin on the butt of each of your hands, his clean fingertip delicately spreading it across your scrape. He was so gentle. So quiet. So present. It was incredibly intimate. He wrapped a thin piece of gauze around both of your hands, and you felt somewhat silly again. Perhaps this was overkill.

That was until he gripped the back of your thigh, spreading your legs further and bringing your right knee closer to his eye level.

You inhaled sharply, but he didn’t seem to notice, his gaze completely and utterly focused on your beat-up knee. It was extremely endearing. You were now situated, legs akimbo, around Rick Grimes. One of his hands held the back of your calf, the other in the middle of your quad, turning your knee this way and that in the light. “You ain’t ever allowed to ice skate again,” he finally declared shaking his head with a smile. You felt like you were on fire like anything could happen in this moment. You tried to maintain control of yourself, chill out. “Yes sir,” you mumbled, not quite as sarcastic sounding as you had meant it to be. Certainly not chill! His eyes flicked up to yours, catching the sheepish look on your face. He smiled to himself as he let go of your leg, reaching for the alcohol wipes in the kit. He peeled one open then looked up at you, “This might sting.” You nodded, nothing could take you away from this moment. He dabbed the wipe gently on your scraped knee and- OW. You sucked in a surprised breath between your teeth, squeezing your eyes closed. “Shhh,” he said, gently caressing your thigh in a soothing gesture, “You’re alright.”

You forgot about the pain almost immediately, his caress much more arousing than soothing. You peeked down at him. His face was inches away from your knee, eyebrows knit up, focusing on sanitizing the scrape as gently as possible. Rick's large hands gripping your thigh, yet working so delicately on your injury. His dark, thick hair with those sexy curls. One had even fallen into his face, and it took all your strength not to push it back for him. Run your fingers through his hair. You wanted nothing more than to touch him. He cleaned the smaller scrape on your other knee before throwing the towlette away. He applied Neosporin again and placed a large bandaid on one and a smaller one on the other. With his thumbs, he stroked the edges of the bandaids firmly, coercing them to stay in place. He rubbed his hands together, inspecting his work, “Alright that should do it. Nothin’ we can do ‘bout these bruises though.” He stood. You didn’t want this to end. You didn’t want him to ever leave between your legs.

It was out of your mouth before you could give it a second thought, 

“Will you kiss it better?”

...

Now would be the appropriate time to crawl into a hole and die. 

You felt an immediate flush grace your cheeks. Rick peered down at you, and you struggled to read his expression. It was like a warning look, but also spirited, like something had stirred inside of him. Like he was entertaining this behavior. He looked hungry. You hadn’t broken eye contact, your lips slightly parted, ready to take back what you said. He studied you for another moment before his hand slid under your leg again, stabilizing it. He slowly knelt, sinking almost entirely in front of you, your legs open wide to him. He maintained eye contact as he leaned forward slightly, and left a soft kiss over your bandaged knee. Your eyelids fluttered and you let out the tiniest shaky breath. He must have noticed, but again said nothing. He wasn’t done. He moved lazily to your other knee, and left another kiss, lingering longer. You were at the precipice of something. All you had to do was reach out and touch. He finished and stood, that same hungry look in his eye, slightly self-satisfied. He could see what he was doing to you.

Rick’s hips were situated in line with your knees, maybe even closer. One of his hands just so happened to stay on your thigh. It was undeniable now. If anybody walked in there was no explaining this. You could cut the tension between you two with a knife. No, not even with a knife. A chainsaw might do the job. You didn’t want him to stop. He seemed as though he was just about to say something, but you interrupted him, stretching out your bandaged hands. Your knuckles bumped his chest, your palms up. You didn’t need to say anything, he understood, that playful look in his eye. He grasped the back of your hand and leaned down. Your fingers cupped his face as he left a gentle kiss to your bandaged hand. His coarse facial hair tickled the soft flesh of your palm. He moved to the other one, again leaving a slightly deeper kiss. You wanted nothing more than to grab his face and connect your lips. You could imagine it so vividly. Reach out and touch. What was stopping you? You couldn’t imagine he’d protest. And yet, to cross that line… you were petrified. As much as you tried to seem suave and confident, this was completely uncharted territory. Maybe in an alternate universe, you were bold, truly bold. Maybe you were already fucking on the kitchen counter. But not in this universe.

He pulled away from your hand. Please don’t stop Please don’t stop Please don’t stop. He started putting away the med kit. No. No. No.

“Ow,” you remarked flatly. 

He turned back to find you pointing at your inner thigh, and the rather large bruise situated only one or two inches from the hem of your shorts. You had no idea how it had appeared, yet there it was. He stared at the bruise, clenching his jaw, the gears turning in his head. You would give anything to know what he was thinking. He looked up at you.

You were taken aback by his stormy expression. You hadn’t seen a look like this on his face before and it took you a few moments to piece it together. There was a kind of frustration behind his eyes, one that you couldn’t wrap your head around. Why would he be angry? It wasn’t a full-on glare, more of a DANGER warning, and yet you could see that same hunger there, ten-fold. It was as though he was desperately holding himself back, and he was losing. You got the feeling Rick didn’t like to lose. He didn’t move. Neither of you did.

You have made a huge mistake. You fucked everything up. What is wrong with you?

He looked away, out of the window, thinking briefly. You were both vividly aware of the line you had asked him to cross. The moments passed at a glacial pace, and you felt frozen in anticipation of what might come. Rick turned back to you and sighed lowly. He set the medical kit back down, maybe a little harder than it needed to be. He drummed his fingers on the box. You gripped the counter anxiously, trying not to let it show on your face. After what felt like an excruciatingly long amount of time, he moved. Rick situated himself back in between your legs, spreading them wider with his hand, a gentle pressure on your knee. He was closer than before, even. You exhaled shakily. He hooked his hand in the crook of your leg, lifting it up. He was still gentle, but you could sense he was holding back. It was the same motion he would do if he was about to put your leg over his shoulder, and you couldn’t shake the image from your head. Reach out and touch. His other hand held your opposite thigh for stability, his thumb stroking your skin gently. He lowered his head languidly, maintaining the same steely eye contact. You breathed heavily. His face was mere inches from your clothed pussy as he dipped his head towards your thigh. He paused, keeping his mouth just slightly away from the mauve bruise, and you could feel his equally heavy breath on your skin. He looked up at you holding your gaze as he connected his parted lips to your inner thigh. His eyes shut as he slowly pursed his lips, leaving the world's most erotic, warm, semi-open-mouthed kiss.

He exhaled through his nostrils like he was relieved of some great burden within himself. Like he was given water while lost in the desert. He didn’t seem to want to stop. Or maybe he just couldn’t. He had given in. His lips didn't leave the spot for quite some time, grazing over the bruise. You could’ve come right then and there. Rick Grimes’ head in between your thighs, his lips on your skin, his fingers gripping you tightly, as though he was trying in vain to restrain himself. He kissed the bruise a second time, and you could swear you felt him lightly suck at your skin. He dragged his bottom lip gradually away from the bruise, traveling down your leg. You could feel his teeth slightly graze your skin. The warmth of his mouth. Shivers racked your body as you let your head fall back slightly, closing your eyes in ecstasy at the lightest touch. His lips eventually departed and he straightened up slowly, his head still bowed, before meeting your eyes darkly.

He was inches away, gazing deeply, lustfully, dangerously into your soul. His hand hadn’t left your thigh. Reach out. You breathed shakily. And touch. Your hand met his on your thigh. Reach out and touch. You traveled slowly up his arm, stopping at his shoulder. He didn’t break eye contact. He didn’t move. You leaned forward, your legs opening up even more for him. Reach out and touch. Your lips were centimeters from his, you shared the same breath, his eyes flicking down to your lips. He wasn’t making this easy for you. You had to cross that line, not him. Your hand met the side of his face. Reach out and touch. 

Maybe it was this universe.

You pressed your lips against his.

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notes: oh my god. Oh my god. Tee hee thanks for waiting I hope you guys like this one! Also if anyone has any suggestions of things you'd like to see in this story feel free to DM me, I'm always open to input! <3