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celandeline · 5 days

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And When She’s Leaving Your Home, She’s Begging You To Stay

Carl Grimes X Reader, Part 4 [previous part | next part]

Someone’s knocking at your door. Loud enough that it stirs you from your sleep even though you’re upstairs, and your bedroom door is closed.

You wake, groggy and naked, Carl curled into your side, still asleep, also naked. The pounding at your door is insistent, so despite the allure of staying curled up in bed with him, you slip out of the sheets, careful not to disturb him. You pull your sweatpants off the floor and back onto your legs, and grab the nearest shirt, slipping it on as you head downstairs.

You pull open the door to catch Rick mid-knock, a scowl on his face. Your stomach drops, and you almost slam the door back shut on instinct, but you stop yourself. This was going to happen one way or another, you just wish you’d had time to take a shower first.

Rick tucks his hand back into his pocket. “Is my son here?” He doesn’t sound as furious as you expected, but there’s still anger there.

“Yeah.” You say, hating the way your voice wavers. “I’m sorry. I should have sent him back home-”

“Can I come in?” He cuts you off, running a hand over the scruff of his beard.

His question takes you by surprise. “Um. Sure.” You say, pulling the door open to let him inside.

He steps inside, heavy boots clunking against the hardwood floors. You close the front door as gently as you can, stalling for time before you turn to join Rick in your living room, sitting on the couch across from him, the coffee table a precaution between you. Not that it would do much if he decides to kick your ass, but…

The silence stretches on for too long.

“He’s still asleep.” You say. “I can go wake him up-”

“No, that’s alright.” Rick says. “You and I need to have a little one on one chat anyway. Let him sleep.”

Fear makes itself known in your stomach. You’re not totally sure that this isn’t a guilt fueled nightmare, sleep still clinging to the edges of your mind. “Alright.” You say, trying to keep your tone even.

He sighs, and glances over to the window. “Look,” He starts. “I just wanted to apologize.”

You just look at him for a minute. “Sorry, what?”

“Carl talked to me last night,” He continues. “Told me about how much what I said was affecting you, and that it wasn’t really your fault. He’s the one that asked and all. So I’m sorry for coming off so harsh, I don’t-” He sighs. “You’re not a bad kid. And Carl’s made it pretty clear that he’s serious about the two of you, so I just wanted to clear the air.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” You say. “Don’t apologize. I should be the one apologizing, I mean, I should have known better than to try and sneak him alcohol, and I should have known better than to let him stay here when he so obviously snuck out last night-”

Rick chuckles. “Yeah… I should have figured he was planning on sneaking out. Him wanting to talk about you was a dead giveaway.”

You sigh, running a hand down your face. “I’m sorry.”

Rick shakes his head. “Nothin’ to be sorry for. He’s just grown up now and I’m not used to it yet. He’s never been one to listen to me anyway and now that he doesn’t have to…” He trails off as the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs.

You turn around to see Carl come down the stairs in nothing but his boxers. You watch him notice his dad on the couch and his face turn bright red, and you can’t help but laugh.

You can hear Rick chuckle too. “Why don’t you come join us?”

Carl comes down the rest of the steps and slides onto the couch beside you, his blush spreading from his face, down his neck and to the upper part of his chest. You bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling, and for a moment, they just look at each other.

“Michonne thought someone kidnapped you when you weren’t in your room when she went to wake you up for breakfast.” Rick says casually.

Though you didn’t think it was possible, Carl’s blush deepens.

“Next time you want to have a sleepover, just let me or Michonne know first.” Rick says. “And use the front door. Your window was open all night and it rained. The curtains are soaked.”

“Sorry.” Carl says.

Rick makes a show of standing up from the couch. “Well, I’m going to get going. Breakfast is waiting for me ‘nd all.”

You rise as well, following him back to the front door so that you can hold it open for him. “Thanks for dropping by.” You say. “And again I’m sorry.”

Rick steps onto your porch and grins a little knowing smile, like you’re in on the joke. “Nothin’ to be sorry for. Have a good rest of your day.”

“You too.” You return, more genuine than you think you’ve ever meant those words before. Closing the door behind him, you turn back around to see Carl still on the couch, not having moved an inch, his head buried in his hands.

You sit back down beside him, and lean against his shoulder, not bothering to fight your grin anymore. “You okay?”

“I can never go back home again.” He groans, lifting his head out of his hands to tip it back against the back of the couch, slumping into the cushions. “I have to live here now.”

“He’s not even mad, what’s the problem?” You ask.

“It’s embarrassing, waking up after losing your virginity and walking downstairs to see your girlfriend talking to your dad.” He says, gaze flicking over to you.

“I’m your girlfriend now?” You ask.

“Or boyfriend. Whatever you want.”

“Who said I wanted to be either?” You tease, picking your head up off his shoulder.

He rolls his eyes. “You know, I went to bat for you yesterday-”

“Yeah I know.” You interrupt him, and place a kiss on his cheek. “Rick told me. Thank you.”

“So will you?” He asks, his gaze searching yours as he turns to look at you. “Be my-?”

You cut him off. “Yes. Of course.”

“Cool.” He says, a wide smile breaking out across his face. He brings a hand up to gently cup your cheek, tilting your head so that he can kiss you properly. It’s soft, and tender in a way you weren’t expecting, and you melt into it. He keeps kissing you as he pushes you down onto the couch, crawling on top of you, his hair hanging like curtains blocking out the rest of the world.

When he pulls away he only reattaches himself to your neck, kissing over the bite marks he left there the night before. You wind a hand into his hair, tugging until he lets go of your skin with his lips and drifts up so that your noses bump again.

“What?” He asks, leaning in to kiss you again.

“What’re you doing?” You ask before his lips collide with yours and his tongue dips into your mouth.

“Trying to fuck you?” He pulls back, saying it like it’s obvious.

You laugh, and he quickly kisses you again. “You’re insatiable. I’ve created a monster.”

“Can’t help it, you ruined me.” He says, sliding down to your collar again. He presses a kiss there before sliding his hands up under your shirt, rucking it up until you give in and pull it off, letting it fall underneath your coffee table. Your sweatpants are next, and then his boxers come off too and you’re going to have to wash the covers of your couch cushions later today.

He’s really going to be the death of you, Carl Grimes.

#carl grimes #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes smut #carl grimes x you #the walking dead #twd

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celandeline · 5 days

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You’ve Got A Pretty Kind Of Dirty Face

Carl Grimes X Reader, Part 3 [previous part | next part]

Someone’s tapping at your window.

Even after two years of being behind the walls of Alexandria, you can’t break the habit of waking up at every small disturbance, so it only takes a few taps before you’re slipping out of bed, pulling the knife you keep tucked under your mattress out and skirting around the bed to your window.

You peer around the edge, knife in hand, only to see Carl crouched on the roof of your porch, gently tapping at your window. He smiles when he sees you, and gestures for you to open the window. You set your knife down, and start on the locks. You shouldn’t - it’s after dark, he most definitely snuck out, you already let him get too far by kissing you in the car today - but you do. It’s Carl, you can’t not.

You push the window open, and hold it so that he can climb through before sliding it back into place. He still has that stupid smirk on his face when you turn to look at him. “Should I even ask why you’re here?”

“Probably better if you don’t.” He says, playful. “Plausible deniability and all.”

“That makes it sound like you’re planning something nefarious.” You say.

“What if I am?” He steps closer, narrowing the distance between you.

Before he can completely close the gap, you place a hand on his chest, keeping him a short distance away. “I don’t know what you were thinking in the car today but if your dad had seen, I swear-”

“He didn’t.” Carl cuts you off, voice low. You can feel his heartbeat against your hand. “I just wanted to thank you for saving my ass.” One of his hands comes up to wrap around your wrist, moving your palm from his chest so that he can press closer, his other hand finding your hip, holding softly. “Still feel like I should thank you again.” He says, just above a whisper.

He’s so close, you can feel his breath against the skin of your cheek when he talks. “Carl.” You say. You shouldn’t, you shouldn’t; if Rick ever found out-

You don’t get to say more than his name because then his lips are on yours again, hungry just like they were before. He kisses you fiercely, and you can’t help but kiss him back. It feels good, it scratches that itch that only gets worse every time you stop yourself from enjoying him for fear of his father. You wind a hand into his hair, and kiss him back with the same intensity, working his mouth open so that you can dip your tongue inside.

He groans, low in the back of his throat as your tongue sweeps over his, and the hand he has on your hip tightens its grip. You can’t help but smile into the kiss, the hand that isn’t tangled in his hair finding one of the belt loops on his jeans and fiddling with it teasingly.

When he pulls back, he’s breathing heavy. He doesn’t go far, still holding onto you as he rests his forehead on yours, looking down at where your fingers are still looped in his jeans. “Wish you wouldn’t keep doing that.” He says.

“Doing what?” You ask.

“Saying my name like you want to say stop.” His hand slides from your hip to the small of your back, playing with the hem of your shirt.

“It’s not-” You stop to figure out what you want to say. “I like you, Carl. A lot. I think you’re cute and funny and smart and I admire your strength. And I would like to be with you. But I don’t want to be with you at the cost of your relationship with your dad. I see how close you guys are, and I don’t want you and I getting together to drive a rift in that. And-” You pause. “I don’t want you to take this to mean that I don’t like you.”

He shakes his head. “How could I, when you just went on about how cute and smart and funny I am.”

“Shut up.” You say, the way he repeats it all back to you making it sound embarrassing. “I just… there's more than just that I don’t want to come between you and Rick. It’s also that you’ve never done this before, and I have, and I know that the first relationship you have is the one that sets the standards for the rest. It’s a lot of pressure not to fuck up. I don’t want to accidentally fuck up your conception of love.” You sigh, and then, to lighten the mood, “Also I think Rick would actually kill me if I took your virginity.”

Carl laughs, and lifts his forehead off yours to look you in the eye. “He probably would.” He agrees, smiling. And then, “But, um…” He pauses, brow furrowed slightly. “Hm.”

“What?” You ask.

He smiles sheepishly. “I’m just trying to figure out how to say that I don’t care about what my dad thinks or that you or that you might fuck up or whatever without saying that I don’t… care.”

You laugh a little under your breath. “I guess I should’ve expected that.” He’s made it pretty obvious, with his insistent flirting and the way he so recklessly kissed you in the car today, that he’s too wrapped up in this thing to think about the impact it’ll have on his dad, or himself, or you.

His hand skips under your shirt, fingers brushing along the skin of your back. “I get what you’re saying. And I think it’s really… admirable that you’re so concerned about me and my dad, but,” He pauses. “I could die tomorrow. You could die tomorrow. I don’t want to let this go without trying to make it work, ‘cause we might never get the chance again.”

There’s a sadness in his eyes that sends a pang through your heart. You know what he means - you’ve seen it for yourself. It’s very easy to die these days, and no one ever ties up all their loose ends before they go. The world is littered with ‘almosts’ and ‘what ifs’ and ‘if onlys’. It’s only natural to not want this, us, to end up in that ever growing pile.

“You’re very persuasive.” You say.

Carl smiles, and his fingers play with the hem of your sweatpants. “So..?”

“So what?”

“So you’re not gonna tell me to go back home?”

“I guess not.” You say. “I have a feeling you didn’t come over here just to talk.”

“Not really.” He says. “Not that I don’t like talking to you but I also really like kissing you…”

You laugh as he tugs you closer again, and your lips connect. He doesn’t wait to slip his tongue between your lips, and his grip around your hips tightens. He kisses like he’s hungry for it, and you suppose he is, after you’ve been keeping him waiting. You wind your hands into his hair again, playing with the strands and grinning when you feel a shiver run up his spine from the touch.

He whines against your lips, and suddenly you don’t know why you’ve been denying yourself this for months.

You pull away only to step backwards towards your bed, your hands dropping to Carl’s belt loops again to tug him with you. He comes easily, grinning as you pull him into bed. You make yourself comfortable amongst your pillows, and he settles next to you, the both of you laying on your sides so close that your noses bump together.

For a moment, you just look at each other, only able to make out each other's features in the semi-darkness because you are so close together. This time you’re the one to close the gap between you, pressing your lips to his and sliding a hand under his shirt, trailing your fingers along the plane of his stomach. He shivers again, and you smile against his lips. He’s so responsive, even to the littlest of touches.

You pull away to trail kisses down his jaw until you reach the junction of his neck just below his ear. Your fear of Rick stops you from leaving a hickey there, but you still lick at the spot, just to make him shiver again. His fingers wind into the fabric of your shirt, holding onto you like he’ll die if he lets go. You move to nip at the lobe of his ear and he pulls you on top of him, crushing you to his chest.

You can feel him hard underneath you when you sit back, straddling him. His hands fall back to your hips, and you place a hand on his chest, feeling the rapid beating of his heart under your palm. His pupils blown wide as he looks up at you, dark hair fanning across your pillow, you know what he’s going to ask before he even parts his lips.

“Have sex with me.”

You purse your lips. “Rick’s gonna murder me.”

Carl shakes his head, smiling. “No he won’t.”

“He so totally will.” You laugh. “He already accused me of corrupting you for trying to smuggle you alcohol, he’ll put my head on a pike for this.”

“I won’t let him.” He says, squeezing the sides of your hips.

“And how exactly would you stop him?” You tease, leaning down to brush your lips over his again.

He catches you in a proper kiss before he speaks. “I’ll ask real nicely.”

You sigh, and kiss him again. Rick’s going to kill you, but right now, when it’s just you and Carl in the comfort of your bed giving in to the feeling of his lips on yours and the way his bangs sweep across your face like butterfly kisses, you can’t bring yourself to care. You’re not going to pretend that you’re not incredibly turned on with this beautiful boy underneath you. And more importantly, you like him and he wants this.

“Okay.” You say, pulling your shirt over your head in a fluid motion, tossing the fabric to the floor. His words from earlier, that you might die tomorrow, echo in your head. You want this as much as he does, so why not? Why wait, when either of you could very easily wind up with walker teeth around your neck in a few hours?

Carl’s grins, eyes trailing down your front. “Really?”

“Did you want me to say no?” You ask, rising up on your knees so that you can ruck his shirt up his chest, purposefully trailing your fingers up the planes of his stomach to make goosebumps rise.

He sits up, pulling his shirt the rest of the way off. “I just expected you to make me work for it more.”

As soon as his shirt’s all the way off, you attach yourself to his collarbones, nipping at the thin skin. Carl lets out a breathy gasp as you take the opportunity to begin trailing hickeys across his chest, confident that they’ll be hidden under his shirt. What you can’t leave on his neck, you leave across his collar, until he’s almost writhing under you, his hands fisted into your sweatpants.

The moment you lift your head up from his skin, he’s pushing your shoulder, gently knocking you over so that he’s hovering over you now, trailing his lips up the side of your neck until he’s just underneath your ear. “Can I?” He whispers, breath tickling your skin.

“Go crazy.” You say. What do you care if you’re covered in hickeys? He’s the one with the overbearing dad, not you.

Still, maybe you should have phrased it differently, because Carl does, in fact, go crazy. You’ll be surprised if your entire neck isn’t purple tomorrow. You can’t pretend you don’t enjoy his enthusiasm though, it’s been a while since you felt so… desired. You wind your arms around his back and trail your fingers up his spine. The way he arches into the touch makes you grin.

He’s so warm, pressed against you as he leaves a necklace of bruises across your neck, his moans muffled by your skin between his teeth as he grinds against your thigh. You can feel his hard-on through his jeans, and you slip a hand down his stomach to dip into his pants, palming his dick.

The whin he emits at your touch is delicious. You bite your lip to stifle your grin.

“You’re making fun of me.” Carl accuses.

“‘M not.” You say, even though you are a little. It’s cute, how sensitive he is, how obvious it is that he’s never done this before. “You’re just cute, ‘s all.” You bring your hand out of his jeans for a moment to undo the button.

Carl rolls off you to shuck his jeans off, and you slide out of your sweatpants as well. You don’t let him climb back on top, pushing him down into your pillows so that you can straddle him again. Despite the hand on his chest, he still tries to sit up, brow slightly furrowed.

“Why-?”

“‘Cause you haven’t done this before.” You cut him off with a kiss. “Just let me. You can be on top another time.”

The promise of another time makes him grin, and he lets you lay him down. His hands find your hips and you watch as his expression shifts, the sensation of your bare skin on his enough to make him sigh. Looking down at him, suddenly, your stomach swirls with nerves. Not for your own sake - no, you’ve done this before, and you’re under no illusion that he’ll last long - but for his. You want to make it good for him.

“You have to tell me to stop if you want me to stop.” You say. “Or slow down, or anything - just, talk to me. I want it to be good-”

“I know.” He interrupts you. “Promise I’ll tell you to stop if I want you to stop.”

“Okay.” You say. Still a little nervous, you shove it down and rise up on your knees again, gently guiding his dick between your legs. His gaze drops to your hand and he sucks in a breath as you begin to sink down on him, his grip on your hips tightening enough to leave a bruise behind.

He only exhales when you’re fully seated and his grip relaxes. “Fuck.”

You’ve just opened your mouth to ask him if he’s alright when he bucks beneath you, unsettling your balance. You gasp, falling forward, and he wraps his arms around you before he rolls over, still seated inside you. Your back hits the mattress before you can really realize what he’s done, and he tucks his head into your shoulder, groaning as he starts to fuck you.

“What the fuck?” You say, voice breathy.

He shakes his head, hair tickling your skin. “Just let me fuck you please. I don’t want you to go slow, you’ve been making me wait for months-” He cuts himself off with a moan, his hips knocking against yours. His thrusts are sloppy, but eager, and he trails his lips underneath your ear, letting all the little whines and moans slip right from his lips to your ear.

You let him have his way with you, just winding your arms around his neck and enjoying the ride. He’s not half bad even though he doesn’t know what he’s doing. It’s his openness, you think that’s doing it for you. The way he holds onto you like you’re precious, the way he’s not ashamed about all the little noises slipping out of his mouth, the absence of the posturing and dominance that you’ve had to put up with from other guys.

It’s not long before his hips are stuttering, and he lets out a long groan before he slumps against you, utterly spent. You move a hand from his shoulders to wind into his hair, playing with the strands. He sighs against your chest, and you smile, hugging him to you.

“Thanks.” He says, rolling off you to lay against your side. “And sorry.”

“Sorry?” You laugh.

“For lasting all of three seconds.” He mumbles, making himself comfortable in the valley of your chest. He drapes an arm over your stomach, gently tracing your hip bone.

“‘S okay.” You say, pressing your lips into his hair. “It was your first time.”

You can feel him falling asleep against you, and hear it in his voice. “Gotta practice I guess.” He smirks against your skin.

You laugh again, and stroke his hair until you both fall asleep.

#carl grimes x reader #carl grimes #carl grimes smut #twd #the walking dead #carl grimes x you

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celandeline · 8 days

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Saltburn Behind the scenes

10/?

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celandeline · 8 days

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thinking about farleigh today....the only brown boy in a white house...curly haired and american but with the royal cheekbones of the cattons....he snarls like a trapped creature because he is one--his family is the snare closed around his bloodied foot....he betrays himself bc he sees himself more in liam and josh than in his cousins...terrified of being exposed as a fraud...vicious boy with a beggar's bowl biting the hand that feeds. oh farleigh start you horrible lonely fucked up little thing brimming with hate

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celandeline · 8 days

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And If You Never Eat, You Never Grow

Carl Grimes X Reader, Part 2 [previous part | next part]

It’s a cruel twist of fate really. Karma for letting Carl kiss you two days ago on your porch when you knew you shouldn’t have. You even remember saying it, when he’d offered to come with you - you didn’t need him distracting you. But of course, in picking extra reinforcements to bring with you back to that strip mall, Daryl had asked Rick and Carl to tag along. Of course.

If you just don’t look at him, you think you can make it through.

You keep your eyes steadfastly forward as Daryl pounds on the window of the store, drawing all the walkers inside to the front. There’s only a few - likely ones that had slipped in when you and Daryl made your retreat last time you were here - and they’re easily handled. Daryl pulls open the door, and you draw your knife as you step inside, plunging the blade through the nearest walker’s skull. Knife still sheathed in the walker’s head, you pull the body out of the way for Rick and Carl to get at the other two.

Three bodies fall to the floor, dead for good.

Daryl, crossbow in hand, breezes past you. “C’mon.” He gruffs, starting down the barren aisles without looking back. “‘S this way.”

You don’t bother wiping off your knife - it’ll just get bloodied again in a few minutes. You follow after Daryl, retracing your steps from the last time you were here, through the employees only door and the back rooms, down the rusty metal steps towards the rollover storage space. It’s quiet, but you know they’re still in there, waiting.

Daryl stops at the bottom of the steps, placing a tentative hand on the handle of the door. “I’unno how many ‘r in there.” He says. “But ‘s a lot. Gotta be more’n a dozen at least.” He looks to you. “Right?”

“At least.” You agree.

“Nothing we can’t handle.” Rick says from behind you. “We stay close to each other, watch each other’s backs.”

Daryl nods, and you watch him ready his crossbow as his grip tightens on the door handle. You ready your knife, and your other hand finds its way to the pistol tucked into the back of your jeans. Daryl flings the door open, and you dart into the room, stabbing the nearest walker you see through the ear.

It’s immediate chaos. The basement storage space isn’t huge to begin with, and it’s filled with flimsy metal shelving, some of which is already knocked over. The walkers all stumble towards the door at the same time, arms outstretched, some of them tripping over the fallen shelving and crawling, jaws snapping at your ankles. The smell of rot and decay fills your nostrils, but you take deep breaths anyway as you fight, kicking away crawling bodies as you drive your knife through the head of the walker in front of you.

The sound of an arrow whizzing past you draws your attention for a moment, and you see one of Daryl’s arrows embed itself in a walker that had been approaching from the side, out of your sight. You don’t have time to thank him though, because there’s a walker behind Rick, a little too close to the back of his neck for your liking. You hip-check the walker away from Rick’s back, and stick your knife up its nose, the body stilling and crumpling to the floor.

You catch Carl’s blue eyes on you over his dad’s shoulder, but you quickly spin away, forcefully stepping on a walker’s hand as it tries to crawl towards you. Shoving your steel-toed boot in its mouth to keep it still, you kneel down quickly to stab it through the head.

Slowly, the room starts to clear. The bodies begin to pile up, and you take a moment to catch your breath, scanning the room. Daryl pulls his knife from the head of a walker, and reaches down to retrieve an arrow from another, grunting. Rick wipes his machete on the leg of his pants, his free hand pushing his hair away from his eyes. Carl, kneeling down to pull his knife from a walker’s skull, unaware of the second walker stumbling out from behind the shelving-

Your heart stops, and you leap forward before you really have time to think about what you’re doing. With your whole body, you slam into the walker, the both of you tumbling to the ground away from Carl. You struggle to keep the thing down as you flip your knife around, avoiding its snapping jaws as you plunge the blade through its eye. The walker stills, and you sit back on your haunches, turning back to look at Carl.

Pupils blown wide, his gaze meets yours. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” You pant, knees cracking as you stand up.

When you turn fully around, you see Rick looking at you too - not the wide-eyed stare of his son but something different, more calculating. You quickly look away, busying yourself instead with wiping all of the blood and brains off your knife, and starting to sort through all the boxes for supplies. The room quiets as the fighting comes to an end, and you take a moment to ground yourself, opening cardboard boxes to peer inside.

Daryl kneels beside you, peering into the boxes on the lower shelves skeptically. “What’d you do?” He gruffs.

“What?” You ask, confused, looking down at him.

He blows a strand of greasy hair out of his face as he paws through the boxes. “Rick’s lookin’ at you all funny. What’d you do?”

“Nothing recently.” You say. Through the gaps in the shelving, you can see Rick and Carl going through the motions of scavenging for supplies too. As if feeling your eyes on him, Rick looks up. You only hold his gaze for a moment before looking away, going back to pulling anything useful out of the boxes.

Daryl grunts, but doesn’t press any further. He’s good like that, you’ve never known him to poke or pry. In silence, you go through the motions of pulling supplies. It’s a decent haul - untouched water bottles, boxes of cereal, canned corn, peas, peaches - all of which is packed into duffel bags and thrown over your shoulder. You keep one hand on your knife as you follow Daryl and Rick back up the stairs, Carl a half step behind you.

“That was pretty hot, when you tackled that walker.” He keeps his voice low enough that his dad and Daryl won’t overhear, but you anxiously look at the back of Rick’s head anyway.

“Carl.” You warn, low. You don’t need him getting you into more trouble with his dad than he already has.

“What?” You can hear the laughter in his voice. “It was.”

You shoot a quick glare at him over your shoulder as you reach the top of the stairs, and he shrugs, as if he simply couldn’t help himself and just had to let you know. You roll your eyes as you turn back around.

Rick holds the door open for you as you follow Daryl back outside, squinting slightly at the change of light. You try to ignore that calculating look as you pass by him, but it still unsettles you deep in your gut. You’d almost prefer him to be glaring at you - you can see the wheels turning in his head, thinking about… something. Likely something to do with Carl.

Maybe you should really turn him down. Tell him to fuck off. Hurt his feelings a little bit so he’ll actually leave you alone, get Rick off your back too… You drop your duffel bag in the trunk of the car before sliding into the backseat.

Carl slides into the seat on the other side, and closes the door behind him. For a moment, the car is quiet, the only sounds are the muffled voices of Rick and Daryl seeping in from the outside. You determinedly keep your gaze away from Carl. You’re done encouraging this crush he has, even if you do like him. It’ll take some willpower to convince yourself that he’s more trouble than he’s worth-

“Hey.”

You tilt your head, eyeing him warily. “What?”

He tips his head in the same way, mocking your wariness. He glances out the window, to where his dad and Daryl are talking before he shifts closer to you, across the seats. Quickly, his hand comes up to cup your cheek, and before you really realize what he’s doing, he’s kissing you, hungrier than the sweet kiss he’d given you on your porch. He pulls away just as quick as he’d come, whispering a ‘thank you’ across your lips.

The driver’s side door opens, and Rick slides in just as Carl pulls back. Daryl plops himself down in the passenger seat and shoots you a look over the shoulder of the seat. You’re sure you look as shocked as you feel, and you quickly school your face back to neutrality. The car rumbles to life, and you ignore the smirk on Carl’s face as he glances at you. You can feel all your convictions to finally put an end to this thing from before slipping away. He’s definitely going to be the death of you, you’re sure of it.

#carl grimes x reader #carl grimes #carl grimes x you #the walking dead #twd

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celandeline · 8 days

Text

If You Never Shoot, You Never Know

Carl Grimes X Reader, Part 1 [previous part | next part]

All you want to do is eat.

You’re almost dead on your feet, exhausted after a day-long supply run with Daryl. For all your trouble, it had turned into a bit of a shitshow in the end, really, how were either of you supposed to know that there had been two dozen walkers in the basement? But you’re alive, and you’re back behind the walls of Alexandria, and Rick had seemed grateful for what supplies you had managed to scrounge up. So you feel entitled to treating yourself to grilled cheese.

You relax back against the island of your kitchen as you flip on the stove, dropping some butter in your frying pan to begin to melt. The delicious smell of frying butter begins to fill the room, and you close your eyes, savoring the scent. God, you’re starving.

A knock at your door interrupts the pleasant, buttery thoughts in your head, and you groan, trudging out of the kitchen. You already know who it is - no doubt the moment he saw you get home, he started over…

You whip open the door and lean against the frame, looking down at the boy on your porch. “What?”

Carl Grimes, with a bouquet of wildflowers clutched in his fist, smiles at you. “Brought you flowers.” He says, holding them out to you.

He’s been doing this for months now. Purposefully volunteering for work that he knows you’re doing, making up any excuse to spend time at your house, going out of his way to bring you things - your favorite snacks, a ring with your favorite color stone in it, a shirt for a band that you like, now also flowers. It’s cute, this little crush he has on you. But turning him down is getting a little tedious.

You sigh. “Carl, we’ve got to stop doing this.” Still, you hold your hand out for the flowers.

“Dunno what you mean.” He says even though he definitely does. He hands you the bouquet. “Can I come in?”

You hesitate for a minute, examining the flowers he’d brought. All pretty, all in shades of your favorite color. “Your dad know where you are? Or is he gonna come busting down my door looking for you again?”

His cheeks redden as you reference the worst afternoon of both of your lives. “I told him.”

“Sure then.” You say, holding the door open so that he can slip inside. “‘M making dinner if you’re hungry. Grilled cheese.”

“If you don’t mind.” He says, wiping his boots on your rug before stepping inside. Always the gentleman.

You look at him, exasperated. “When have I ever minded?” You ask, shutting the door and heading back into the kitchen, flowers in hand.

“Just trying to be polite.” He says, following after you.

You set the bouquet of flowers down on the island before turning back to your pan, dropping four slices of bread into the bubbling butter to begin frying. Carl makes himself comfortable on one of your barstools, watching as you pull a tall cracked glass out of one of your cabinets and fill it with water before dropping the flowers in. You set the makeshift vase in the center of the island with a smile. “Thanks.” You say. “They’re pretty.”

He grins. “They made me think of you.” He says. “Thought you might like them.”

You say nothing, ignoring how his little flirtatious comment makes you feel and instead focusing on the sandwiches. For a moment, the only sound in the kitchen is that of sizzling butter as you flip the slices of bread, until Carl speaks again.

“How was your day?” He asks.

“Alright.” You sigh. “Not as good as it could’ve been, but there’s always tomorrow. Now that Daryl and I know what we’re getting into, it should be easier to handle. And we can always bring more people with us.”

“I could come.” He offers immediately.

You shake your head. “You’ve got your own jobs. Plus,” You joke. “I don’t need you distracting me while I’m trying to kick walker ass.”

He tilts his head, a little smirk at the corner of his lips. “Do I distract you?”

“You wish.” You say.

“I do.” He shoots back, unashamed.

It’s annoying, how good he is at this. Makes it all the harder to keep reminding yourself why you can’t just give in to his advances. You’re three years older than him - which wouldn’t be a problem if he wasn’t freshly eighteen, but he is. And you’re already on Rick’s shit list when it comes to Carl - he’d almost throttled you when he found out Carl had asked you to sneak him some alcohol the next time you went on a run. He’d been furious, that day he was pounding on your door demanding to know where his son was - said he didn’t want him hanging around you, that you were ‘corrupting’ him. You can’t imagine what he’d do to you if you actually were to corrupt his boy, as he’d put it.

“Carl.” You sigh, flipping the bread again, making sure all the sides are a delicious golden brown.

“Sorry.” He says, not sounding sorry at all. “I know.”

And he does know - you’ve talked about it a lot, why this could never work. But the logic doesn’t seem to have deterred him at all.

“You’ve gotta drop it.” You say, folding some slices of cheese into the bread, two fully formed sandwiches sliding around the buttery pan now. You have to swallow to stop your mouth from watering.

“But you like it.” He says.

You roll your eyes.

“C’mon, you do.” He says, grinning as he gestures to the bouquet on display. “You would’ve actually told me to fuck off if you didn’t.” His icy blue eyes find yours. “If you tell me to fuck off, I will, you know that.”

You do know. But selfishly, you don’t want to tell him to go, even though you should. It’s silly to keep doing this when Rick will never ever let it happen, but he’s wormed his way into your affections. You like him. He’s sweet, and funny, and a great shot, and has the most beautiful eyes you’ve ever seen. And you like that he likes you, for whatever reason.

You scoop the sandwiches out of the pan and onto a plate before flipping the stove off. Coming around the island, you slide onto the barstool next to him, placing the plate between the two of you. You don’t bother waiting for him before you grab one for yourself, digging in. You swallow with a satisfied sigh. “God, I was starving.”

Carl bites into his own sandwich with a smile. “Thanks.” He says around a mouthful. “‘S good.”

“Welcome.” You say around another mouthful.

The kitchen is largely silent as you and Carl eat, until there’s nothing but crumbs left on the plate. Your stomach no longer threatening to start devouring your insides, you sink into the barstool, the exhaustion from your run finally catching up to you. You sigh, contentedly, and Carl smiles.

“Can I ask you a question?” He asks, his voice taking on that nervous tone that means he’s going to ask some mushy romantic stuff.

Even though you shouldn’t keep entertaining this, you say, “Sure.”

His gaze set on the marble countertop, he idly rolls a crumb between two fingers, contemplative. “If my dad wasn’t in the equation, would you let me date you?” His eyes shift under his hat, glancing quickly over to you.

You should say no, even if it’s not the truth. If Rick wasn’t part of the equation - or even if you were in his good graces - you’d let Carl date you. Of course you would. But that’s not how things are - as is, Rick would mount your head on a spike. You should say no. But when those icy blue eyes are boring into your soul, it’s hard to be dishonest. “Yeah.” You say, playing it off with a shrug. “Seems like the only way to get you to stop pestering me with flowers and whatnot.”

Carl grins, the kind of smile that only comes from getting exactly what you want. “Follow up question,” He starts, grin turning mischievous. “If we just didn’t tell my dad anything, would you-”

“Absolutely not, no.” You laugh. “You want to fool around in secret? That would make everything a thousand times worse, what are you thinking? If Rick ever found out-”

Carl turns in his seat to face you, sliding a hand across the marble countertop to interlace his fingers with yours. “Please.” He says. “You already said that if getting in trouble with my dad wasn’t a problem you’d be okay with us being a thing. If he never finds out, what’s the problem?”

You shove down the feeling that shoots through you when he laces his fingers together with yours. “I’m still older than you. You’re barely an adult, I mean, have you ever even had a girlfriend before?”

His cheeks redden. “No.”

“I can’t be the first. I can’t set the standard for all of your relationships after this one. You should date someone your own age, I’m sure there’s plenty of girls around here that have crushes on you-”

“I don’t want to date someone my own age.” Carl says. “The people my age here have been sheltered in Alexandria almost their whole lives. They don’t know what it’s like outside these walls. Talking to them feels like talking to middle schoolers.” He squeezes your hand. “But you know what it’s like out there, you’re out there with the groups going on supply runs all the time. You know how to defend yourself, and you’re not afraid of the walkers. I can actually talk to you about that stuff. And if anything were to ever happen, if walkers were to get in the walls again, I know you’d be able to take care of yourself.”

The way he looks at you with such admiration makes your heart do a funny flip in your chest. “You make this very hard, you know.” You tease, trying to ignore the urge to kiss him.

“It doesn’t have to be.” He says. “I don’t care that my dad thinks you’re a bad influence, and I don’t care that you’re older than me. I like you because you’re strong, and you’re pretty, and you’re the funniest person I know. It shouldn’t matter what anyone else thinks.”

You tilt your head and sigh, squeezing his hand back. “You’re right. It shouldn’t matter what anyone else thinks.” You say. “But unfortunately it does. Your dad calls the shots around here, and it’s bad enough that he already doesn’t like me. I don’t want to make it worse.”

“What if I talk to him?” Carl asks. “It’s not really your fault that he doesn’t like you, I’m the one who asked you to sneak me alcohol, I could explain-”

“It’s already a done deal.” You say. “And I don’t blame Rick for being pissed with me for that, I should have had the wherewithal to tell you no.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m glad you didn’t.” He says.

“Yeah, I’m sure you are.” You say. Your gaze shifts to the window above the sink, the orange sun sinking below the horizon outside. “You should probably go home. It’s getting dark.”

Carl’s gaze follows yours, and he sighs. “Probably should.” He agrees sullenly. Slowly, he rises from his seat. “Thanks for the grilled cheese. And for talking to me.”

“You know you’re welcome anytime.” You say, standing up from your seat as well, despite your protesting muscles.

You walk him to the door, holding it open as he steps out onto the porch. He turns back to look at you, that mischievous glint in his eye again. “Can I do something?” He asks, voice low.

“Do what?” You shoot back, skeptical.

He doesn’t answer, instead just stepping closer to you, his eye darting down to your lips for a second before meeting your gaze again. He approaches slow, giving you plenty of time to back away if you want to, but you don’t even though you should. The image of Rick standing on his porch across the street flares in your mind, but you still don’t pull away, and let Carl’s lips meet yours in a tender embrace.

This kiss only lasts for a short moment before he’s pulling back, grinning like the cat who got the cream. “G’night.” He says.

“Night.” You return, stepping back through the threshold of your doorway before you do something stupid like kiss him again. You watch him retreat down your porch steps, catching the last grin he throws over his shoulder before he darts across the street, back home.

Closing your door, you sigh hopelessly into the silence of your home. He’s going to be the death of you, one way or another.

#carl grimes #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x you #twd #the walking dead

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