[thosewhoarrive]

𝒽elena ⟢ 𝓈he / 𝒽er 𝒾stj 𝒶pril 𝓉aurus 𝓁atina '08 𝒷abe 𝒾ntrovert 𝒾rl / 𝓈ocial 𝑜nline 𝒻ratboy 𝓃iall’s 𝑔f 𝓂any 𝒶esthetics 𝑔irly 𝒸abin 08 𝓅oseidon's 𝒹aughter 𝓈lytherin 𝒸arl 𝑔rimes's #1 𝓎earner ⋆｡𖦹 ˚ 𓇼 ˚｡⋆ 𝒶rts & 𝒸rafts 𝑒nthusiast 𝒸oconut & 𝓋anilla 𝒽orror / 𝒶ction 𝓁vr 𝓂usic 𝒹ependent 𝓈ummer 𝑜bsessed 𝒸appucchino 𝒶ddict 𝒷racelet 𝓂aker 𝓃ico 𝒹i 𝒶ngelo’𝓈 𝓈weetheart 🍪☕️🎧

masterlist socials moodboards carrd letterboxd

a tiny little guidelines page!!

- I’m not writing smut/nsfw, but I can write fluff, crackfics, or blurbs! You can request for something a bit angsty as well, but keep in mind it’s not one of my strengths (coming from someone who can’t stand reading angst /lh)!

- please put a few details your requests so I can make the writing more accurate to it!

- the characters I’m currently ok writing for are:

carl grimes . rick grimes . daryl dixon . glenn rhee . shane walsh . percy jackson . leo valdez . nico di angelo . carl gallagher . lip gallagher . ian gallagher

- if I don’t want to write your request, I’ll answer to your ask with a post if you’re on anonymous or send you a dm! if you read the entire guidelines page though, it’s hardly likely to happen :)

[666chainsaws]

just want you to be my emergency contact

‎ ‎ ‎

[thosewhoarrive]

yippee am I niche yet

[thosewhoarrive]

Girl, I'm sorry, but PLEASE stop using the wrong # for your posts. You literally talk about your life and use #carlgrimesxreader??? Please use the # correctly.

OMG IS THIS ABT THE LAST THING I POSTED?? So sorry my phone kinda lags when I press on the tags I might've used it by mistake and didn't see it, I'll go edit it rn. Sorry again and ty for telling me

[thosewhoarrive]

Just finished watching s8 ep8 and I hated it surely it cant get worse

[thosewhoarrive]

no apocalypse! au where reader tricks carl into doing a full skincare routine with them. face masks with matching silly headbands and all..

𝓨𝐎𝐔 𝓢𝐀𝐈𝐃 𝓘𝐓 𝓦𝐀𝐒 𝓞𝐍𝐄 𝓣𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆, carl grimes.

a/n: I see you're dropping all your ideas..... you creative little thing ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹 you're lucky you caught me in a bored and procrastinating mood

cw: maybe pink personality reader, another crackfic I think, fluff, I don't really do skincare so forgive me if something's terribly written and pls tell me so I can fix it thx boos 💕

Carl should have known something was wrong the second you told him you had a surprise for him.

Not because you were particularly suspicious, but because you were standing in the doorway of your bathroom with the most innocent expression imaginable, holding something behind your back and smiling at him in a way that immediately made him narrow his eyes.

“What?” he asked, already wary.

You shook your head. “Nothing.”

“That’s not nothing.”

“Come here.”

Carl didn’t move. “Why?”

You smiled wider. “Because I want you to.”

He stared at you for another second before sighing and walking over, mostly because he knew that if he refused, you’d probably follow him around until he gave in anyway.

The moment he stepped into the bathroom, you revealed the mysterious object behind your back: a fluffy headband with little cat ears on it. Carl stared at it. Then at you. Then back at the headband. “No.”

You laughed. “You don’t even know what it is.”

“It’s a headband.”

“Okay, technically…” You tried to hide your smile. “And you’re going to wear it.”

Carl’s expression became completely flat. “I’m leaving.”

You grabbed his wrist before he could turn around. “Wait! It’s part of the skincare routine.”

He looked genuinely offended. “The what?”

“Skincare.”

“I don’t need skincare.”

“Everyone needs skincare.”

“No.”

“Carl.”

“No.”

“Please?”

You gave him the exact expression you knew he couldn’t resist, and he immediately looked away. “You’re annoying.”

“So you’ll do it?”

He sighed. “…Fine.”

Your victory smile was immediate. “Yay!”

“But I’m not wearing that.”

You held up the headband again. “You’re wearing this.”

“Absolutely not.”

Five minutes later, Carl was sitting on the bathroom counter with the ridiculous cat-ear headband holding his hair back while you stood between his knees, carefully rubbing cleanser over his face. He looked like he regretted every decision that had brought him to this moment.

“This is stupid,” he muttered.

“You said that already.”

“Because it’s still stupid.”

“Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re going to get cleanser in them.”

He sighed and obeyed, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing when he sat there looking deeply ashamed by the entire concept.

Once you’d finished, you handed him a towel and told him to pat his face dry. He did, suspiciously examining his reflection afterward. “Feels weird.”

“That’s because you’re used to having dry skin.”

“My skin was fine.”

“Sure.”

You reached for the next product. Carl immediately looked at the bottle. “What’s that?”

“Serum.”

“What does it do?”

“Makes your skin nice.”

He stared at you. “My skin is already nice.”

You blinked. “Was that a compliment to yourself?”

“Maybe.”

“Wow.”

The face masks were where his dignity finally disappeared.

You had matching ones, both of you sitting side by side on the bathroom floor with your knees pulled up while the sheet masks covered most of your faces. Yours had little pink hearts printed across it. Carl’s had tiny yellow stars. He had stared at the package for almost a full minute before putting it on.

“Why are mine stars?” he asked.

“Because they’re cute.”

“How?”

“They’re adorable.”

“They’re stars.”

“Exactly.”

He sighed and leaned his head back against the cabinet. You looked over at him, trying not to laugh at the sight of your boyfriend sitting there in a ridiculous cat-ear headband with a star face mask covering his entire face.

“You look cute.”

“No.”

“You do.”

“No.”

“Carl!”

He turned his head toward you. “If you take a picture, I’m breaking your phone.”

You giggled. “I wasn’t going to.”

He narrowed his eye suspiciously. “You were thinking about it.”

“Maybe.”

“I knew it.”

You laughed harder, and despite himself, Carl’s mouth twitched beneath the mask. He was quiet for a moment before reaching over and gently bumping his shoulder against yours. “You happy?”

You looked at him. “Very.”

He nodded once. “Good.”

And that was the moment you realized that underneath all the complaining he had actually enjoyed it. Maybe not the serum, and definitely not the headband. And he would probably deny liking the face mask if you asked him. But he’d spent the last half hour sitting beside you while you laughed and talked about absolutely nothing, and every once in a while, you’d caught him smiling when he thought you weren’t looking.

When the masks finally came off, Carl touched his cheek experimentally.

You grinned.

“See?”

He looked at you.

“…My face does feel softer.”

You gasped dramatically. “Did you just admit I was right?”

“No.”

“You literally did.”

“I said my face feels softer.”

“Which means I was right.”

Carl rolled his eyes. “You’re never letting this go, are you?”

“Absolutely not.”

He shook his head, but he was smiling.

Then he reached over, took the ridiculous cat-ear headband off your head, and put it back on you properly after it had slipped sideways.

“There.”

You smiled.

“You’re getting good at this.”

“Don’t push it.”

And when you leaned over to kiss his cheek, he didn’t complain.

Mostly because he was still wearing the star mask.

EVERYBODY DROP YOUR IDEAS AND REQUESTS NOW!!!!!!! 🤬🤬🤬🤬 /j

[thosewhoarrive]

just came across a grimecest fic who the hell is asking for this stuff

[thosewhoarrive]

𝒽elena ⟢ 𝓈he / 𝒽er 𝒾stj 𝒶pril 𝓉aurus 𝓁atina '08 𝒷abe 𝒾ntrovert 𝒾rl / 𝓈ocial 𝑜nline 𝒻ratboy 𝓃iall’s 𝑔f 𝓂any 𝒶esthetics 𝑔irly 𝒸abin 08 𝓅oseidon's 𝒹aughter 𝓈lytherin 𝒸arl 𝑔rimes's #1 𝓎earner ⋆｡𖦹 ˚ 𓇼 ˚｡⋆ 𝒶rts & 𝒸rafts 𝑒nthusiast 𝒸oconut & 𝓋anilla 𝒽orror / 𝒶ction 𝓁vr 𝓂usic 𝒹ependent 𝓈ummer 𝑜bsessed 𝒸appucchino 𝒶ddict 𝒷racelet 𝓂aker 𝓃ico 𝒹i 𝒶ngelo’𝓈 𝓈weetheart 🍪☕️🎧

-> previously @babydolliexo !!

🤎 masterlist | 🐾 more about me | ☕️ socials | 🍪 moodboards | 🎼 carrd

[thosewhoarrive]

𝓕𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝓗𝐀𝐍𝐃, carl grimes.

a/n: requested by 🐰🐇 anon!! this is kinda a short crackfic

summary: you ask carl to hold your hand, while he's clearly unable to hold anything else.

cw: crackfic, bit short

The supply run had been going well, which, considering the world you lived in, meant absolutely nothing had gone catastrophically wrong yet.

Carl had found a mostly intact backpack inside the remains of a small sporting-goods store, and it was now stuffed with whatever useful things he’d managed to find: canned food, batteries, a couple of bottles of water, some medical supplies, and a handful of things that you weren’t entirely sure were necessary but Carl had insisted might come in handy.

His rifle was slung securely over one shoulder, his knife was tucked away where he could reach it quickly, and one hand was occupied with a small metal container he’d decided was worth carrying back.

You, meanwhile, had nothing in your hands at all. You’d offered to carry something several times, but Carl had repeatedly told you he had it, and eventually you’d stopped arguing.

The two of you walked side by side through the trees, stepping carefully over roots and fallen branches, with Carl occasionally glancing toward the surrounding woods to make sure nothing was following you. It was quiet. Almost suspiciously quiet.

You’d been walking for several minutes when you looked down at Carl’s hands, then at your own, and suddenly decided there was an obvious problem.

“Why aren’t you holding my hand?”

Carl stopped walking.

He looked at you.

Then he looked at his hands.

One was gripping the metal container. The other was hooked beneath the strap of his backpack, with his rifle hanging against his shoulder.

He looked back at you.

“…Because I’m carrying stuff.”

You nodded thoughtfully.

“But you could hold my hand.”

Carl stared at you. “With what hand?”

You looked at the hand holding the container.

“That one.”

He glanced down at it.

“That’s full.”

“The other one.”

He looked at the backpack strap. “Also full.”

You frowned. “That’s not fair.”

Carl’s mouth twitched.

“It’s not supposed to be fair.”

You walked another few steps before stopping again, clearly unwilling to let the matter go.

“You don’t want to hold my hand?”

Carl’s expression changed immediately.

“No.”

You raised an eyebrow.

He sighed.

“I mean—no, that’s not what I meant.”

A small smile appeared on your face. “I know.”

Carl looked around the woods, clearly hoping a walker would appear purely so he’d have an excuse to end the conversation. Nothing did.

Instead, he shifted the metal container into the crook of his arm, adjusted the rifle against his shoulder, and finally managed to free his hand.

Then he held it out toward you.

“There.”

You took it immediately, threading your fingers through his.

“See? Wasn’t hard.”

“It was.” Carl started walking again.

You smiled. “You’re holding my hand now.”

“Yeah.”

“You like it.”

“I didn’t say that.” He looked at you from the corner of his eye.

The two of you continued through the trees, hands still linked. Carl’s attention returned to the surroundings almost immediately, his eye scanning between the trunks and his steps remaining careful and quiet. But every now and then, his thumb brushed absently over the back of your hand.

You noticed, but didn’t say anything. Neither did he.

A few minutes later, Carl stopped suddenly and looked toward a nearby building.

You squeezed his hand.

“What?”

“Wait.”

He listened.

You stayed completely still beside him.

After a moment, he seemed satisfied that the building was clear. He started walking again, but this time he didn’t let go of your hand.

You smiled.

“You’re getting used to it.”

Carl sighed.

“Don’t make it weird.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m just saying.”

He looked at you. “You wanted me to hold your hand.”

“And now you don’t want to let go.”

Carl looked forward again.

“…Maybe.”

Your smile widened.

“Maybe?”

He squeezed your hand once.

“Shut up.”

And despite everything he was carrying, the weapon over his shoulder and the danger waiting somewhere beyond the trees, Carl kept your hand in his all the way home.

[thosewhoarrive]

i love love LOVE your writing so be prepared for random spams of ideas for our sweet boy carl..

imagine carl with a reader who sleeps like a mf. i’m talking, will sleep a whole day if not woken up (ehem me too) and besides their insane hours of sleep, they absolutely will NOT stay still when sleeping. they’re always laying on top of him even when it’s irritatingly hot outside.

-🐰🐇

𝓒𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃, carl grimes.

a/n: HEHE this is so cutie and tysm I'm glad u like it!!! I hope this meets your expectations as much as possible 🎀

cw: none! fluffy fic

By the time Carl realized you had no intention of waking up, the sun had already climbed high enough over Alexandria’s walls to turn the bedroom unbearably warm.

He had been awake for nearly two hours, which wasn’t unusual for him. Carl rarely slept deeply anymore, and even when he managed to stay asleep through the night, his body seemed to have developed an irritating habit of waking him at the slightest unfamiliar sound. A branch scraping against the house, footsteps outside the window, someone closing a door too hard down the street—any of it could pull him out of sleep almost instantly.

This morning had been no different. He’d opened his eyes sometime shortly after sunrise, stared at the ceiling for a few seconds, and then realized why he couldn’t move. You were lying directly on top of him. Not beside him. Not curled against his side. Not even partially on him in the way that might have been considered reasonable. You had somehow migrated during the night until your head was tucked against his shoulder, one arm was draped across his stomach, one leg was thrown over both of his, and most of your weight was resting directly across his chest.

Carl had stared at you for several seconds in complete silence, trying to work out how you’d managed it because he’d gone to sleep with you on your side of the bed. He remembered that much. You had been facing him, wrapped in the blanket, and you’d fallen asleep halfway through telling him a story. Now you were practically horizontal across him, your hair scattered over his shirt, breathing slowly and peacefully as though you hadn’t just turned him into a human mattress.

He’d tried moving his arm first. That had gone badly. The moment his fingers shifted against the sheets, you made a quiet, sleepy noise and tightened your arm around him without waking up.

Carl had frozen immediately. He waited. Nothing happened. You stayed asleep. He tried again, this time more carefully, attempting to pull his arm out from beneath your shoulder. You responded by shifting closer, your face pressing against the side of his neck. Carl stared at the ceiling again.

“Seriously?” he whispered.

You didn’t answer, obviously.

“You know you’re crushing me, right?”

Nothing.

Carl exhaled slowly through his nose, glancing down at you with the expression of someone who had just realized he had been defeated by an opponent who wasn’t even conscious.

“You’re unbelievable,” Still nothing.

The room was quiet except for the faint sounds of Alexandria waking outside, and Carl could hear someone moving around in the house next door, followed by the distant sound of Judith laughing.

He knew he should get up. He had things to do. Rick had mentioned a patrol later that morning, and Carl wanted to check one of the sections of the wall before then because there had been a few tracks outside the previous evening. He also hadn’t eaten anything, and if he stayed there much longer, someone was eventually going to come looking for him.

None of that seemed to matter to you. You slept on, completely undisturbed.

Carl looked toward the window, where sunlight was beginning to spill across the floor, then back down at you.

“It’s morning.” Your breathing remained slow and even. “It’s been morning for a while.” Nothing. “You have to wake up eventually.” You shifted slightly, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

Carl stopped talking. His expression softened despite himself. He hated how easily you could do that to him. Not the sleeping part, that was ridiculous. But the way you trusted him without even thinking about it. The way your entire body relaxed around him when you were asleep, as though somewhere in the back of your mind you had decided there was nowhere safer to be. Carl didn’t take that lightly. He knew what it meant to feel unsafe, to sleep with a weapon close enough to reach without opening his eyes, to wake up already listening for danger.

So when you slept this deeply against him, completely unaware of the world outside, some small part of him didn’t want to disturb it. Even if his arm was numb. Even if his back hurt. Even if the room was becoming hot enough to make breathing uncomfortable. He could wait.

For another ten minutes. Maybe fifteen.

Then you moved again.

Carl’s eyes narrowed. “No.”

You stretched in your sleep, apparently deciding that the perfectly reasonable position you had occupied for the past several minutes was no longer comfortable. Your knee slid farther across his legs, your head shifted downward until your cheek was resting against his chest, and your arm somehow ended up tucked beneath his other elbow.

Carl stared down at you in disbelief. “How are you doing that?” he whispered.

You made another sleepy noise. He sighed. “I’m serious.”

He tried to move his leg. Your knee immediately followed the movement. Carl stopped. He looked at the ceiling, then toward the door, as though someone might walk in and provide him with an explanation. Nobody did.

“You sleep like a walker,” he muttered. “You just keep moving.”

That earned no response. He couldn’t even tell whether you had heard him. Probably not. You could sleep through practically anything. He’d learned that during the months you’d been together. You could sleep through storms. You could sleep through people talking outside. You once slept through someone dropping a metal bucket in the hallway hard enough that Carl had been on his feet with his gun in his hand before he’d even realized he’d moved. You had opened your eyes several minutes later, looked around, asked what happened, and then gone straight back to sleep. Carl had been convinced there was something medically wrong with you. You had told him that you were simply tired. He had stared at you for a long time before saying, “That’s not normal.” You had shrugged and gone to bed. He’d eventually stopped trying to understand it.

What he had not stopped trying to understand was how you managed to sleep for such absurd lengths of time. There had been mornings when he’d woken before sunrise and found you still sleeping. He would eat breakfast, check the perimeter, return to the house, and find you in exactly the same position. Sometimes you’d sleep until midday. Once, after an especially exhausting supply run, you had slept nearly an entire day, waking only long enough to drink some water before collapsing back onto the mattress. Carl had been concerned at first, hovering around you and checking whether you were breathing because he’d learned never to assume anything was fine. Eventually he’d realized that you were simply a person who apparently required approximately sixteen hours of sleep to function. He’d complained about it endlessly, but he’d also become accustomed to it.

More than that, he had quietly adapted to it. He knew when you were going to fall asleep based on the way you started rubbing your eyes. He knew that if you said, “I’m not tired,” while already yawning, you were going to be unconscious within twenty minutes. He knew you would kick the blanket off at least twice during the night and then complain about being cold later. He knew that if you fell asleep against him, there was almost no chance you would move unless he moved first. And he knew that if he woke before you, there was a very specific kind of peace that came from simply staying there and listening to you breathe.

Unfortunately, that peace did not make his body any less hot.

The weather had turned warmer over the past few days, and the small room felt like an oven now that the sunlight had been shining through the window for hours. Carl was sweating beneath his shirt. You were still lying on top of him like you had personally decided that he was the ideal temperature-regulated mattress.

He shifted his head against the pillow and stared down at you. “You’re hot.” You didn’t move. “I’m hot.” Nothing. “It’s actually really hot.” You sighed softly in your sleep. Carl frowned. “You’re not listening.” You shifted closer. He closed his eyes. “Of course.”

He considered waking you. He really did. He could picture it clearly: gently touching your shoulder, saying your name, waiting for you to blink awake, and then explaining that he’d like to have feeling in his arms again. It was reasonable. It was practical. It was probably what any normal person would do.

Instead, Carl reached up and carefully moved a strand of hair away from your face. He let his hand rest there for a moment, his thumb brushing lightly against your temple. Your expression didn’t change. You were completely gone. “You’re lucky I like you,” he murmured.

A knock came at the door.

Carl’s head snapped toward it.

You didn’t move.

Another knock.

“Carl?”

It was Rick.

Carl glanced down at you, then at the door.

“Dad.”

“You awake?”

“Yeah.”

There was a pause. “Why aren’t you outside?”

Carl looked down again.

“Busy.”

Another silence.

Rick sounded suspicious. “Busy doing what?”

Carl hesitated. “…Nothing.”

The door opened slightly before Carl could stop him, and Rick looked inside. His eyes moved immediately to the bed, where his son was lying completely still with you sprawled across him. Rick stared. Carl stared back. Neither of them said anything for several seconds.

Then Rick’s mouth twitched.

Carl narrowed his eye.

“Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were going to.”

Rick looked away, clearly fighting a smile. “You coming to breakfast?”

“Eventually.”

“How long?”

Carl looked down at you. “…I don’t know.”

Rick nodded slowly, the amusement becoming impossible to hide.

“Right.”

“Dad.”

“I’m leaving.”

“Good.”

Rick closed the door.

Carl waited until the footsteps disappeared.

Then he looked at you.

“You embarrassed me.”

You remained completely unconscious.

“Thanks.”

You woke sometime after noon.

Carl knew because by then he’d already given up on trying to leave.

He’d managed to free one arm eventually, though he’d had to do it with the patience of someone dismantling a bomb. He’d reached for the comic on the bedside table, read for a while, and eventually found himself staring at the same page for ten minutes because he was too distracted by the weight of you against him. At some point, he’d fallen into a light doze himself, only to wake when you shifted again.

Now, finally, you stirred. Your fingers moved first. Then your head shifted against his chest.

Carl immediately looked down.

Your eyes opened slowly. And when you stared at him, he stared at you back.

Neither of you spoke.

You blinked.

“…Morning.”

Carl looked toward the window.

“It’s twelve-thirty.”

You frowned sleepily.

“…Morning.”

“It’s past noon.”

You closed your eyes again. “No.”

Carl’s eyebrow lifted.

“No?”

“Too early.”

“Too early?” He almost laughed.

You nodded against him.

“You’re unbelievable,” he shook his head. “I couldn’t move.”

“You could’ve woken me.”

Carl went quiet.

You smiled knowingly.

“You didn’t want to.”

He looked away.

“I didn’t say that either.”

You laughed softly and shifted, finally lifting yourself enough to sit beside him. Carl immediately stretched his arm, wincing as the blood returned to his fingers.

“Ow...”

You looked at him. “Sorry.”

“You’re not sorry.”

“I am.”

“You did it again.”

“What?”

“You put your entire body on me.”

“I was asleep!”

“That’s your excuse every time.”

“Because it’s true.”

Carl looked at you, then shook his head.

“You sleep like you’re fighting someone.”

You smiled. “I do not.”

“You move all over the place.”

“I can’t control it.”

“Exactly.”

You stretched, yawning so deeply that Carl couldn’t help smiling. Then you looked at him. “What time did you wake up?”

“...Seven.”

Your eyes widened.

“Seven?”

“Yeah.”

“And you stayed here?”

Carl shrugged.

“You were sleeping.”

You stared at him for a moment.

He immediately looked away.

“Don’t make it weird.”

You smiled.

“It’s cute.”

“It’s not.”

“It is.”

“It’s really not.”

You leaned against his shoulder.

Carl sighed, but he didn’t move away.

“You know,” you murmured, “I could’ve slept longer.”

“I know.”

“How long would you have let me sleep?”

Carl thought about it.

“Probably until you woke up.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“Even if it was all day?” You looked at him.

He shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

Carl looked down at your face.

“Because you need it.”

The world outside continued moving without you. People walked through the streets. Someone shouted near the gates. A hammer struck wood somewhere nearby.

Eventually, you glanced toward the clock.

“Do we have patrol?”

Carl nodded. “Later.”

“You were supposed to go this morning.”

“I know.”

“You stayed because of me.”

He gave you a sideways look.

“Don’t get too excited.”

You smiled.

“Too late.”

He rolled his eye.

But there was a smile hiding at the corner of his mouth.

That night, the heat was even worse.

The windows were open, but the air barely moved. Everyone in Alexandria had been complaining about it all day, and by the time night arrived, most people had abandoned blankets entirely. Carl had already removed his jacket and tossed it over the back of a chair. He was lying on his side, staring at the ceiling, wondering why he had agreed to sleep with you in the first place when you suddenly rolled toward him.

He knew what was coming.

“No.”

You ignored him.

“You have to stay on your side.”

You kept moving.

“It’s too hot.”

You curled against him.

Carl closed his eye.

“You’re doing this on purpose.”

You mumbled something incoherent.

“What?”

No answer.

You had already fallen asleep.

Carl stared at the ceiling. Then down at you. Then back at the ceiling.

“You know what?”

Silence.

“I’m done fighting it.”

He shifted carefully, pulling the sheet away from both of you because it was far too warm for it anyway. Your head settled against his shoulder almost immediately, and one of your arms slipped around his waist. Carl rested his hand lightly against your back.

He still couldn’t understand how someone could sleep so much. How someone could move so much while unconscious. How you could be completely oblivious to the world when he had spent years learning to hear danger in every little sound.

But maybe that was part of why he liked it.

You reminded him that there were still people in the world who could sleep without fear. People who could close their eyes and trust that when they opened them again, someone would still be there.

And Carl wanted to be that someone.

Even if being that someone meant losing circulation in his arm every morning. Even if it meant sweating through the hottest nights of summer. Even if it meant waking up to find you somehow occupying ninety percent of the mattress.

He looked down at you one last time. “You better know I don’t do this for everybody.”

You didn’t answer.

Carl smiled faintly, letting out a mix of a defeated and frustrated sigh.

“Yeah. Didn’t think so.”

[thosewhoarrive]

Eating tiramisu ice cream rn and suddenly life is great

[thosewhoarrive]

Is this a safe space to confess that behind all this colorful and pop tumblr theme I'm actually emo irl 🫢🤫

[thosewhoarrive]

YOU AND ME AND ALL OUR FRIENDS 😫😫😫😫

[thosewhoarrive]

it’s a stupid little trend but gosh i love it -> 🤍

i just think it’d be so funny doing this on carl

- gulp it won’t let me stay anonymous bcuz of the link.. 🐰🐇

LMFAOAOAO I LOVE IT it'd be kinda a crackfic though cause It'd be kinda ooc but guess what 😁 I am the queen of ooc ✌🏻✌🏻

Also don't worry abt the anon thing....... if it makes you feel better I already suspected it was u bc of the emojis 😸😸

[thosewhoarrive]

thought of this while writing something similar but imagine doing that “why aren’t you holding my hand?” while their hands are full trend on carl

- 🐰🐇

Bestie I'm working on your last ask I promise but I kinda don't understand this one ☹️☹️ can you explain it further pls I'm a bit dumb

[thosewhoarrive]

Finished!!

The way I placed it kinda sucks but it'll stay there temporarily 🤗 also giving you guys the png in case u wanna do something similar ok bye

[thosewhoarrive]

I can smell the twd larpers arriving with jon bernthal's sudden boost of fame