אברא כדברא

when life was normal, you'd never make time for something childish like this. you were too busy trying to make a name for yourself in your career field, too busy going to workout classes and worrying about how many likes the photos you posted got. too busy with dating apps and diet plans and paying off student loans. too busy filling your life with shit that just didn't matter.

but these days, you know what matters. friendship. found family. the little things, like one of the kids in the community letting you take his extra set of crayons and some paper home, even though supplies are limited for things like this. he just saw how much fun you had, drawing with him when you were in charge of watching the kids in the community one day.

things like that matter. and, okay - more than one good thing came out of this shitty world. you also met daryl, the love of your life, and you have a pretty amazing, close knit group of friends that are so tight they’re like family.

life's strange. and you're just trying to make the best of it.

but daryl interrupting you is a little bit annoying. you almost fucked up your picture.

“you colorin’ butterflies now, sunshine?” daryl teases. his voice sounds low, scratchy. really hot. your annoyance at him fades almost instantly.

you twist in your chair and turn around to face him, where he's leaning against the counter in the kitchen. you're still holding your pink crayon, and daryl's got his arms crossed, crossbow slung over his back, and whatever good mood he's in is contagious, because it's pretty rare that you see the little smirk he's wearing tugging at the corner of his mouth. you smile too.

daryl. you could just swoon.

“you scared me,” you huff, faking a pout. “i almost ruined my picture.”

“ain’t my fault you were so zoned in on your arts n’ crafts,” he shrugs, not even trying to hide the amusement in his voice.

you squint at him, trying to convey your seriousness, which just makes him laugh. then you turn around to pick up a crayon, not the precious pink one, and you throw it at him. it bounces off his chest and hits the floor, and he just shakes his head in amusement. walks over to you, but not before setting his crossbow on the kitchen island.

“you’re such a brat,” he mutters, but he takes the empty seat next to you anyway.

“that butterfly’s pink,” he says, like it’s a crime. you never thought daryl had any eye for the arts, truth be told, but surely he can see your vision? you scoff good naturedly, beginning to color your picture again.

“maybe i like pink butterflies.”

“don’t think i’ve seen one of those in real life.” he doesn't sound judgy, and you're grateful for that. but really - daryl's never been one to judge. not you, at least.

“maybe you’re not looking hard enough,” you say, bumping arms with him. “they’re out there. somewhere," you pause, then look at the crayons that you're already wearing down. "'m sure there's a craft store out there somewhere too. i need more paper. and maybe some markers."

daryl goes quiet for a second. then reaches into the box of crayons without a word, holds up a navy blue one like he’s inspecting a weapon. there's a look of confusion on his face that's so funny, you wish you could take a picture. but these days, you've learned to just enjoy the present. you smile.

“you got another page?” he asks, but that catches you by surprise.

you blink, and he actually rolls his eyes. drama queen. “wait. you wanna color?”

daryl shrugs. “ain’t like there’s a whole lot else to do. rick's drivin' us all crazy," and you giggle at that. "'sides…” he continues, a little gruff, not looking right at you. “you looked real happy. figured i’d see what that’s about.”

your stomach does that fluttery thing he always causes. pink butterflies erupting in your stomach, maybe.

you shamelessly scoot your chair closer to his, then you hand him a piece of paper.

you keep coloring. so does daryl. he presses too hard on the crayon and snaps one in half after three minutes, swears under his breath. you try not to laugh but the sound slips out anyway.

his knee bumps yours under the table, but he doesn’t move it.

you're dying to know what daryl is coloring, but you don't want him to feel like you're watching him over his shoulder. but eventually, when your butterfly is all done, you take a look at his drawing.

he’s coloring the sky above a tree, and it's a little messy, but really fucking cute, and you feel an emotion you've never quite felt. maybe it’s just love. it feels like something pure. something light, a feeling you'd never thought you'd feel again, since the sound of those alarm sirens went off in your city so long ago.

“you missed a spot,” you murmur, pointing to the corner of his paper. daryl literally moves his paper away from you, muttering something under his breath. he grumbles and fills it in. “bossy.”

“you like it.”

“yeah,” he says, soft and quick. and he doesn’t take it back. you feel your face heat up, but it's in a good way. and then you can't help yourself.

your fingers find his on the table a few minutes later. rough calluses and warm skin. so comforting, daryl dixon. you love him so much you don't even know what to do with yourself. you squeeze his hand.

you only unhook your fingers to write in the corner of your masterpiece. to daryl. love you. and you hand it over to him.

for the first time in a long time, the world outside doesn’t feel so heavy. and when you hang daryl's picture on the fridge with a magnet, and he folds your drawing and puts it somewhere real safe, your heart almost bursts. you wanna shout from the rooftops, show everyone how much you love daryl, but he likes to keep this thing with you close. so nobody can stick their fingers in it.

he wants to keep it yours. his. just for the two of you. keep it safe.

and you really fucking admire that.

you overhear him talking to deanna later that night, asking if she knows if there's any stores around here that might have...supplies. god, you love him.

but you think he's going to need to be a little more specific than that.

Found on Pinterest

It felt like hot, molten lava was settling between your hips in the best, most frustrating way. You watched Carl's soft, very slightly toned torso while he pulled a clean shirt on, his boxers low on his thin hips. The two of you had a sleepover in his bedroom the night before, so now that it was morning, Carl was already up and getting dressed.

Trying to ignore the arousal in your lower abdomen, you sat up in his bed, rubbing your eyes with a sleepy groan. Carl looked back at you, a little embarrassed that you had seen him only in his boxers.

“G’morning.” Carl greeted, pulling his jeans up and buckling his belt.

Fuck, just the sight of his fingers working deftly on his belt made you soaked. Why was it so easy to get aroused? Teenage hormones? Maybe you were just ovulating.

It didn't help that you had a wet dream the night before. While you were in his bed. A wet dream about riding him– fuck. Hopefully you didn't have any outward reactions last night.

“... mornin’.” You murmured, standing up from the bed slowly, arching your back to stretch and pop your joints.

A moan left your lips when you back and knees popped deliciously. Carl smirked a little, sitting on the edge of his bed, tying his shoelaces.

“Good pops?” Carl hummed, his voice almost amused while he pulled his flannel on.

“...yeah…the right knee hurt a little though.” You replied, voice a little raspy with sleep while you shuffled over to him, arms snaking around his waist.

His clear blue eye stared down at you, watching you lean up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his lips. A soft smile pulled across his pink lips, watching you with loving eyes while his fingers gently traced your sides.

“I’m gonna miss you while I'm gone.” Carl sighed, giving your hips a little pat, and pulling away to put his sheriff hat on.

~

Carl held his handgun, slowly pushing the gas station door open with his shoulder, breathing shallowly. The soles of his boots made the shattered glass crunch loudly in the silent building. He slowly walked over to the magazines, looking over what was left, what hasn't been destroyed by nature or the walkers.

“...damnit.” Carl mumbled, realizing that none of these magazines were things you'd like.

Men's health? You didn't need to worry about your sex drive or possible erectile dysfunction.

Country Living? You weren't an old lady or a housewife.

Walking around, Carl grabbed a small package of panty liners that wasn't compromised. If you couldn't use it, surely someone in Alexandria could. He put the pink box in his bag, eye looking up to look at the other stuff left on the shelf. Carl's freckled cheeks slowly turned a soft shade of pink when he saw the condom box.

Slowly reaching for the black box, he snatched it and quickly shoved it in his backpack, before moving away from the little section. He left the empty store, almost empty handed. But, before he left, Carl grabbed a small box that had “The Morning After” written across the small box in a very girly cursive.

Carl had vaguely remembered finding a package in the tent he shared with his father and mother back at the Greene farm a few years ago. And, out of childlike curiosity, he read what he could on the box. It was used to stop pregnancy happening before it happened– something like that. Surely it would work if the condom were to break.

Not like you and him would have sex anytime soon– maybe. Hell if he knew. Carl was confused. He could feel the sexual tension between you two. It was palpable when you two were alone, it didn't take much for Carl to get aroused when you were around him.

One time you had been wearing a cute little skirt he brought back for you, and Carl had seen your panties when you bent over to give Judith's head a kiss. Carl remembered the exact pattern of the panties, he knew where they came from. You had asked Michonne if she found any underwear to bring them back.

They were the cutest shade of pink, the sweetest little strawberry print on them that followed the curve of your ass. The soft squish between your thighs that was so fucking erotic. Carl knew damn well what that was, and it marked itself in his brain.

Shaking his head, Carl walked to the van that he drove here, trying to rid the dirty thoughts.

~

You sat with Judith, drawing on the blacktop of the road in front of the Grimes’ household. You looked up when you heard footsteps, smiling when you saw Carl while Judith let out a happy squeal.

“Nevermind. No-one will ever be more excited than Judith when she sees you.” You softly laughed, watching Carl crouch and rub Judith's chubby cheek.

“Hey sweet girl.” Carl greeted Judith softly, opening his backpack and grabbing a coloring book from it. “Grabbed that for you while I was out.”

Judith smiled brightly, making grabby hands at the coloring book, babbling and cooing, little squeaks of Carl which just sounded like “Car”. It was obvious the two siblings loved each other, Carl watching her with a soft smile while she looked through the old activity book.

Carl was patient, explaining what each thing was when she would ask.

“That's a rabbit.” Carl informed the toddler, sitting next to her on the curb while you watched the duo with gentle eyes.

“This?” Judith's sweet little voice asked, short chubby finger pointing to a cartoon-y deer.

“That would be a deer.” Carl replied, glancing over at you with that sweet smile of his.

“...deer.” Judith mumbled, before shaking her head like it was some crazy concept.

A gentle laugh left Carl's lips, his hand gently ruffling Judith's blonde curls while he watched his baby sister look over the pictures in the activity book.

~

You laid back on your bed, letting Carl lay over you with locked lips. A soft moan left his lips, taking his hat off and setting it on the bedpost. Pulling away, you reached back to his bandage around his head.

“Wait–” Carl immediately protested, but quieted down when he saw your little glare.

“Carl, if we're going to have sex I want to see all of you.” You sighed, staring up at him with a little disappointed look.

Carl hesitated, gazing down at you, searching your face for any sign of disgust. Of course Carl trusted you, but he was nervous at the same time. What if you changed your mind? What if you were repulsed by his scar?

With a berated breath, Carl let you unravel the dressings around his head and eye. It was silent while you set the bandages on your bedside table, Carl just waiting for you to react. With gentle fingers, you pushed his bangs back, staring at the scarred tissue where his right eye used to be.

“...you're very handsome, honey…” you whispered, admiring his pretty features.

Carl always had the prettiest features. He was a pretty boy. Like, the definition of a pretty boy is Carl Grimes himself. No doubt in your mind.

Carl was practically vibrating with excitement, a little grin on his lips while he watched you with a loving eye. You thought he was still handsome? Not disgusting and ugly? Not stomach churning? Gag inducing?

Crashing his lips against yours, Carl's hands found your hips, gripping them while he subtly ground down on your mound. Long, pretty fingers found your belt, working on it clumsily. Pulling the prong from the eyelet, Carl successfully got your leather belt open, popping the button of your fly open easily.

Oh fuck. Was this actually happening? Were you actually about to lose your virginity? Your heart was pounding. Rattling heavily in your ribcage, body flushed and overheated with arousal and excitement.

Tongues melding together, you gripped his soft, brown locks, tilting your head so his tongue could reach all the way to your back molars. You both tasted like the chocolate bar you had shared just minutes before.

Quickly pulling away, Carl sat up and ridded his flannel and t-shirt, pulling you up so he could get your tank top off. Carl's breath hitched audibly when he saw your bra, the soft bow between the cups making his chubbed up cock twitch on his pants. Swallowing thickly, he glanced up at you, breaking eye contact with your breasts.

“You…fuck…you're very pretty…” Carl almost slurred, trying to swallow the saliva pooling on his tongue, pink appendage darting out to wet his bottom lip.

A whine almost slipped past his throat when you unhooked your bra, letting the straps fall down your shoulders to the crook of your elbows. The sight of your breasts made him dazed, the soft flesh wanting to be played with, your nipples pebbled and begging for attention from him.

Tentatively, his pale hands reached for your chest, glancing up at your face, searching for any resistance. Seeing none, Carl let his hands come into contact with your pillowy hemispheres of tissue.

Oh.

Oh my fucking god.

Carl squirmed, trying not to cum in his pants immediately while he fondled your breasts. Chest heaving with heavy breaths, he forefinger and thumb found one of your nipples, rolling it oh-so gently, just testing the waters–

“Oh…”

The moan that left your lips made him moan, cheeks and chest pink with arousal. Leaning down, his hair falling into his face, Carl gave a tiny kitten lick to your other nipple.

Your fingers found Carl's hair, gently carding through the long soft hairs while he shyly suckled at your breast. The usually cocky, confident boy now was a melted puddle of arousal and disbelief.

Hesitantly pulling away, Carl helped you get your jeans off, eyeing the sweet panties that covered what he yearned for. The white fabric with the daisy print danced across it a little darked at your center, an obvious telltale sign of your arousal.

“Is this okay?” Carl's soft voice rang in your ears, his long fingers gently gripping the waistband of your panties.

“Yes…” you breathed, laying back on your pillows, lifting your hips to assist him while he tugged the garment down your thighs.

Unhooking the undergarment from around your ankles, his light blue eye marveled at the piece, before quickly pocketing it in his back denim pocket. Looking back up, Carl was met with the sight of the sopping mess between your legs. With a little shaky sigh, he scooted closer, sitting between your spread thighs and giving a little pet to the messily groomed bush above your cunt.

It was obvious you tried to keep everything tidy and trimmed down there despite the world outside. Not like he could blame you, it was probably uncomfortable at times to have a full bush for girls.

“I'm going to touch you.” Carl warned, just wanting to give a heads-up and not startle you.

Seeing your nod, one finger slipped between your soaked folds, coating the appendage with clear slick. Carl gasped softly at the feeling of your soft inner labia, and the feeling of your arousal.

God.

Girls are so cool.

Just exploring, Carl's finger blipped your swollen little clit, and the reaction it got from you made him think he hurt you for a moment. When he realized the choked sound was of pleasure, he did it again.

“O-oh! Carl!” You softly cried, throwing your head back in ecstasy.

The groan that left his throat was almost comical, watching you with arousal. Shaking his head a little to try and clear his thoughts, Carl flinched a little when he realized the tip of his index finger slipped into your tight hole.

Getting no protest from you, he pushed his finger in more, slowly, waiting for you to adjust to the new intrusion. Carl experimentally pulled his finger back, and pushed it back in.

Your back arched with the sweetest little moan from your parted lips, whining when his finger accidentally brushed against the spongy little spot.

“T-there! Carl, there…please. Oh god. It feels so good!” You blabbered, tears of pleasure in your eyes.

His jaw dropped a little, hesitantly rubbing that same spot again. Oh Jesus fucking Christ. You were actually writhing for him. For him. He found a spot that made you do this, all by himself.

His thumb gently circled your clit, index finger working in tandem while hitting your g-spot. Carl was so lost, looking up at you for any guidance, wanting to make sure he was doing a good job. Ignoring the consistent throbbing in his pants, Carl gently pulled his fingers away, wincing at your whine of protest.

“W-why’d you–”

“Give me a second. Please.” Carl almost begged, still a little overwhelmed from the whole thing, staring down at his fingers, watching the little strand of slick connect his thumb and forefinger.

What felt like twenty fucking years, Carl snapped out of it and gently pushed two long fingers in this time. Watching your greedy little cunt swallow his fingers, Carl leaned down and pressed soft kisses on your chest to help you better adjust to the feeling of being around his fingers.

With your moans spurring him on, Carl thrusted his fingers a little bit faster, curling them up to try and find that spot again. His face was pulled into a concentrated look, curling and wringing his fingers while the palm of his hand rubbed your clit.

“Carl!” You cried, feeling hot waves of pleasure wash over you while your first orgasm hit you.

The boy was just in awe, staring down at the mess you made on his hand and on the sheets.

“...woah.” Carl murmured in pure amazement, looking back up at your face and quickly leaning up.

A barrage of little kisses peppered all over your sweat sticky face, Carl whispering little praises to you. It was obvious Carl was more proud of you than he was of himself.

With a little puffed out laugh, you reached for his belt, working on it with shaking hands. Gently swatting your hands away, Carl did it himself, shimmying out of his jeans and now sitting between your legs only in a pair of tented boxers.

There was a damp spot on his boxers where his leaky tip resided, the light blue significantly darker. There was an occasional little kick or twitch of the chub in his underwear while your lips attacked his neck.

Carl's voice raised an octave when you softly nibbled on his collarbone, hips stuttering desperately against yours. Pulling away from his neck, you nudged him back, signaling for him to rest on his back. Carl hesitated, but did as you wanted, watching with pure amazement when you pulled his boxers down.

His cock jutted from the nest of wiry hair on his pubic bone, the tip almost a shade of purple from arousal, a steady dribble of pre leaking from the drooling slit. Carl's dick was also very pretty- well, as pretty as a cock could be.

Carl watched with a wide eye, seeing you lean down to his cock. A choked gasp left his pink, kiss swollen lips when you kitten licked the tip. He didn't even notice your little grimace from the salty, bitter taste of his pre, too focused on the amazing feeling.

With a little pep talk in your head, you parted your lips and took his tip between them, experimentally licking and swirling your tongue. Carl's hand flung down, resting his hand on your head, trying to keep his hips still.

“Shit…”

The deep groan emitted from his throat, head tossed back in pleasure while you stroked the base of his cock. The two of you were very inexperienced, learning together, only using what you had seen in porn mags or overheard the adults talking about.

Carl felt his balls tightening up against himself, his orgasm incoming faster than he wanted it to. Quickly pulling you off of his cock, Carl sat up, panting while staring at you with embarrassment.

“Um…I don't want to finish that quick.” Carl awkwardly explained, watching you move back against the pillows.

Shuffled closer, Carl kneeled between your parted legs, trembling when he saw how close his cock was to your sweet pussy. He could practically feel the heat radiating off of your cunt and towards the head of his prick.

With a nervous little laugh, Carl shifted closer, pressing his erection against your aroused hole. His thumbs rubbed gentle circles on your hips, watching your face for a sign of discomfort or protest while his cockhead breached your virgin cunt.

A little gasp left your lips, eyes squeezing shut when you felt the subtle burn of the stretch. It wasn't like Carl was huge, he was average for a teen his age.

Carl felt like he was about to cum immediately, but held off as much as he could. Slowly sinking in down to the hilt, Carl whined, freckled cheeks bright pink now. His chest heaved, waiting for you to fully adjust to the feeling of his cock stretching you out.

“You…you can move.” You nodded, giving Carl the okay to start.

Oh jeez. This was it. Carl let out a nervous shaky sigh, before slowly pulling his hips back until only his tip was in your pussy, before pushing back in.

“Fuck!” Carl cried, gripping your hips, before doing the same motion but a little faster.

With a trembling hand, you reached down, fingers finding your swollen clit. Carl's thrusts were not very rhythmic or in a specific tempo, but it felt amazing-

“This- this is awesome!” Carl gasped, slamming his thin hips against you one more time before convulsing when he felt you cream around his cock.

Collapsing against your chest, Carl panted in your neck, still trying to reel from the feeling of having sex for the first time. Let alone with you.

Pressing a soft kiss on his head, you gently raked your fingers through his dark brown locks. It took a few moments, but Carl slowly sat back up, staring down at you in pure awe. Hesitantly, he pulled his cock out of the warmth of your cunt.

You watched his eye widened, staring down at the mess he accidentally made. Shit. Carl completely forgot about the damn condoms- thank god he grabbed the pills too.

Carl watched intently, seeing his creamy fluids let out of your used hole. With a shaky laugh of disbelief, his pale fingers curled around his discarded t-shirt and gently wiped you clean.

“I– I forgot the condom. But I also grabbed those pills for after sex…” Carl explained, toying one of the frayed strings on the shirt.

A sigh of relief left your lips, staring up at the ceiling while Carl pressed soft kisses on your tummy.

“...did you enjoy it?” Carl asked, his voice soft and hesitant, almost nervous to hear your answer.

“Yeah. Yeah I did.” You nodded, letting Carl clean you up. “What about you?”