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livingdeadgirlflorette · 9 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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