Carl Grimes Imagines

Remembering- C.R.

"Don't wander off too far, Mom entrusted me with you and I don't intend on breaking it."

I rolled my eyes at my older brother. "B/n, I'll be fine. I'm 17 years old, I can take care of myself."

"Fine, but be careful. You know how all those fangirls get. Try not to get trampled by a herd." I was all too familiar with the nickname my brother inherited for those crowds of crazed fans. Named after the walking dead, herd is a fitting name, both kinds are scary as hell. Suits quite nicely in my opinion. He warns me every time. But I guess it makes sense when you see them just about every day. One of the perks of working at Starbucks in the San Diego Convention Center.

But right now, it's extremely crazy. The first day of Comic Con always is. I should know, I've gone every year since I was 10. I know this place like the back of my hand, and having special access to some of the off-limits areas to the general public has its perks.

So with a final goodbye to my brother, I left the café, venturing out into the seas of people wearing various costumes and carrying a variety of merchandise. I kept it simple with a Walking Dead t-shirt and shorts. My favorite show, of course. Although I've never gone to one of their panels before.

Honestly, I'd rather not meet any celebrities, which is a bit ironic when this place is swarming with them this time of year. Strange, I know, but I have my reasons.

I fumbled with my crossbow bracelet, which I got from my brother as a present when I was 12, as I squeezed through the crowds to the comic artist booths. I loved to draw, and this is one of my most favorite places in the entire pavilion. This year it was right next to the video games. Even better. I always buy a whole stash of comics for me and my brothers, the little one is still too young for all of this.

I was watching an artist draw as I walked by the booth, when I suddenly bumped into something, making me drop some of the comics in my hands, along with my sketchbook. I bent down to grab them, when the something, or rather someone, that I bumped into helped me pick them up.

"I'm so sorry," the person said. Strange, he sounded kinda familiar.

"Don't worry about it," I told him. I finally lifted my head from the floor to face my collision partner, and I almost dropped the books again.

Chandler. Freaking. Riggs.

I stared at him with wide eyes. I was paralyzed. What do I do? I've never actually considered I would possibly run into my favorite actor and celebrity crush. Shit.

He offered his hand out to me to help me up, and I politely took it. Chandler broke the silence. "Here," he said, handing over the comics he picked up.

"Thanks," I smiled at him. He returned it, as he glanced at my shirt.

"Fan of the show?" Chandler asked.

I nodded. "Since the beginning." He smiled brightly, and suddenly I was feeling self conscious. Of what exactly, I'm not sure.

"I don't think we've properly met," he put his hand out politely, "I'm Chandler. Even though you probably already knew that."

I laughed a little, shaking his outstretched hand. He was right. "Y/n." I was pretty calm throughout the whole situation, which honestly surprised me. Maybe it was the fact that my main reason for not wanting to meet a celebrity was finally coming back to me. And it would soon become a reality.

"I was just checking out the video games," Chandler told me. "Let me guess, comic shopping?" I smiled, shaking my head.

"I was watching the artists and picking up some comics for my brothers and I."