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sleepyangelkami · 3 days

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Recently got into the walking dead and let me just say i’m obsessed with your carl fics. It’s alarming how many times i’ve read them lmao.

CLINGY c.grimes

☆ WORD COUNT - 2.4K

CARL GRIMES X FEM!READER

☆ SUMMARY - being clingy was the most natural thing in you and carl's relationship after all the trauma you'd both endured. but when things get too much for carl, he shuts you out, leaving you to assume only the worst.

☆ WARNINGS - clingy relationship, crying, blood, gore, mentions of death, walkers, mean!carl, yelling, stress, mentions of violence, weapons, (2) use of y/n, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

clingy was a word you had much distaste for.

when the world literally ended, there wasn't much to do aside from survive and hold onto your loved ones. you'd been alone so long, people slowly falling, dying, leaving. before you knew it, it was just you and the group you'd found. well, they'd found you.

more specifically, he'd found you.

the boy with the sheriff's hat, eyeing you with his gun in the air. you made no sudden movements, eyes cast down on the ground as if you didn't care whether or not the bullet would fly from his gun.

it was just you in the house they'd raided. you didn't have a family, nor a group. just you, covered in blood, starved and in a kind of fetal position, knees pressed against your chest as you eyed the pool of blood surrounding you. some of your own, some from the ones before.

when you'd met the group, you had nothing. dead parents, dead siblings, nothing seemed to matter anymore. the world was gone, the people you loved either dead, taking the easy way out or leaving it to the walkers. or perhaps they'd left you, walking out when things got tough, leaving you and the remains of your family behind.

the screams from outside of the house would alert you of their soon fate afterwards.

you opened up, albeit it was slow.

you liked to believe there was an instant connection between you and the boy. he lowered his gun almost instantly, realising you weren't a threat behind the blood and glassy eyes. how he'd known, you weren't sure. he just did.

he rushed towards you, calling downstairs for his father in a panic.

you didn't speak much at first, staring when he'd offered his name. carl grimes. the boy you'd soon learn to love.

and with time, you made a new family. daryl dixon was a good idea for a father, you soon learned, carol sort of alike a mother when she snuck you an extra one of her homemade cookies.

you lost others, more fell. but you and carl never frayed.

rick and michonne would always catch you together, smiling and looking at one another knowingly. it was safe to say that it was no surprise when carl announced you were together. after all, you were practically joined by the hip.

this brings us back to the beginning. the word clingy.

you hated the word as much as you hated the death surrounding you. could anyone truly be clingy in a world like this? is anyone really too much? you liked to believe that there was no such thing as too much anymore. people died, left, separated. any day could be someone's last. you'd prefer to know that you'd spent all the time with them as you could.

if that was clingy, then so be it.

carl was used to this side of you, he catered to it, if anything, he matched it. he was used to the way you laid against him, talking lowly as he went about his tasks.

there was a grey cloud looming over alexandria at a time like this. the survivors were getting more powerful and it was plaguing carl's mind. you did your best to be as gentle as you possibly could, attempting to console the boy but it seemed no matter what you did, he would find himself bubbling over with anger.

"will you pass me the carving knife?" he cut you off mid-speech, ignoring the way your lips instantly shut closed, eyes searching your side of the table.

you weren't hanging from the boy as you usually were, picking at his hands and fingers, playing with them as though they were dough. you weren't snuggling into him while he placed his arm around you. your normal routine simply didn't exist with the past week or so.

but if space was what he needed, you were more than happy to offer that to him. "okay." you mumbled, picking up the knife you thought was the carving knife and passing it to him.

you didn't know much about knives and guns, usually sitting your head on your knees and listening to the boy speak about them. yet, every time he told you what was what and their intent, everything went in one ear and out the other. he'd often admire the way you asked a thousand questions over, one's he'd already answered. he'd only smile, answering them again.

now you realised perhaps you should have been listening.

apparently, you'd passed him the wrong one. you heard what you assumed was a swear pass his lips in a whisper as he placed the knife back to the table roughly. "what's wrong?" you questioned softly, watching him pick up a thinner knife, sanding it down with the block in his hand.

"got the wrong one." but his voice was anything but the gentle carl you knew and loved. this one was sort of mean, a tone of anger behind his words. "how many times have i explained all of them to you? i mean, you still don't know, seriously?"

it seemed as though the dark cloud over alexandria had moved into the room belonging to carl grimes. you found yourself sneaking your knees closer to your chest, just like the day he'd found you. "sorry." you mumbled, glancing away.

confrontation wasn't exactly your forté.

it didn't help that fighting with carl was a rare experience. "maybe if you just listened to me every now and again we wouldn't have this problem."

offence took over your face, brows knitting together. "I do listen to you." but when he talked about things like knives and guns it was sort of hard for you to keep up.

a scoff left his lips. "sure you do." angry carl never failed to show you a different side of the boy you loved.

you stared at him in shock, wondering where the sudden attitude towards you was coming from. you knew he was stressed, understood it even but you'd done nothing to deserve the hatred being thrown your way.

that was when the shaky, "why're you being so mean?" left your lips.

like i said, confrontation wasn't something you practiced often. you were sort of unsure of where to go in this situation.

carl breathed out a ragged breath, practically throwing the tools onto the table. you jumped slightly, staring at him with widened eyes. "maybe you're the one being too clingy." his eyes stared into yours but they didn't look like the ones you'd fallen for so deeply. "just..." breathing through his nose. "just leave me alone for a bit, yeah?"

clearly, he wasn't in the mood for any of this.

and neither were you.

you spoke no words as you quickly scooped up the bag on the ground, making a haste exit towards the door. the sound of a quick sniffle before you shut the door closed was enough for the weighing bricks to fall down on carl.

the sudden severity of the situation dawned on the boy.

he'd made you cry.

and he swore never to be the cause of your tears.

he didn't run after you, though, much too caught up in his own head. the stress of the entire situation of the saviours was weighing on him too. he crashed his elbows onto the table, shoving his head between his hands and groaning. he wondered if he'd ever get anything right.

before he could get too far with the self pity, his bedroom door swung open to reveal his father.

"what was that?" the older man questioned, not giving a clue to what he was talking about. but carl could guess. "y/n just ran out of here crying, you have somethin' to do with that?"

in a moment like this, disappointed dad gazing at him, carl would have done anything to wipe that look off his face. "dad, you don't get it―" about to explain himself, weave out of whatever this was.

"i don't care." was the answer he gave, having better things to be doing than sorting out this teenage relationship himself. "fix it." and finally slamming the door.

rick always taught carl how respect worked, he punished him when he was wrong, rewarded him when he was right. he didn't teach him to act like this.

it was night fall when carl finally found himself walking around the town of alexandria. he was sort of hoping you were out here instead of back at home for he really didn't feel like speaking to daryl at the door and asking were you home. however, he searched every nook and cranny, every place you usually went when you were upset and yet he walked back empty handed, realising you definitely hadn't been outside.

finally, he found himself standing on your doorstep, sucking in a breath before knocking on the white door, the light from above shining down on his face making him squint.

the door opened to reveal carol, thankfully not daryl. carl really couldn't imagine what daryl would have to say to him right about now. he just hoped he was out hunting somewhere or other, at least then he wouldn't get the urge to haul the boy off his front porch.

"y/n?" is all carol questioned, she was dressed in her own hunting attire and carl could only guess that she was on her way out too.

he pressed his lips into a thin line. "she home."

the woman nodded. "upstairs." before swapping places with the boy, making her way outside while inviting him in. "carl." he looked towards her. "don't make me regret leaving you inside."

he only nodded, allowing her to close the door from the outside.

finally, the silence of your house enveloped him.

you, carol and daryl all lived in the same two story house but sometimes it seemed only you lived here. all the decorations were your work, pictures and photo frames, some of before, some of now, everything screamed... you.

it was that cosiness about you that made him fall for you all that time ago.

his boots found the stairs, making his way up and finding your bedroom door, the last door on the right hallway.

your door was white, a brass handle leading him into the room he'd seen a thousand times before.

he'd imagine your room at the other side of the door, pretty pink bedsheets with matching curtains. he'd found the curtains for you on a separate occasion, you'd been over the moon. and the pretty lights that decorated your walls along with the picture frames and the stuffed animal he'd found tucked away in your bloodied back so long ago, now fresh against your bed.

a sort of comfort from the world before.

he knocked, receiving no answer.

"sweetheart? it's carl." again, he was met with the mere silence as his fingertips hung heavy against the door handle. "i'm coming in, okay?" it wasn't a question, more like a warning.

when he did walk in, he was met with a sight he'd seen before.

tears coating the edges of your eyes, sitting criss-cross legged on your bed in your favourite pijamas, pretty stuffed toy between your legs. carl had seen this before, held you through it, comforted you and swore that whoever hurt you would pay. what was he to do now when he was the cause of your sorrow?

"hey, baby." his tone was as gentle as could be, making his way to sit next to you on the bed. "missed you."

you two were so different.

carl had the stubbornness of a mule, when things got tough he found it awfully hard to apologise, not that he ever had to do it much. though, he'd much prefer for everything to disappear in a blink of an eye, forget everything ever happened and go back to the way you two were.

and when you were upset? you shut off.

"i was thinking..." still avoiding the two words that would seemingly make it all okay. "maybe next week we can go someplace? find somewhere to hang out for the weekend, like a night away." his words prodded no reaction from you. "how's that sound, angel?"

a shrug was the only thing he was met with.

your glassy eyes strayed far from his, not even attempting to look him in the eyes. he sighed, unsure of where to go. "look at me, sweet girl." long fingers entrapping your chin and turning it towards him.

there was a pang of guilt as he looked in your glassy red eyes, evidence that you'd been crying earlier that day. and he'd been the cause of it.

finally, the long awaited. "I'm sorry." and carl the stubborn mule grimes didn't just apologise to anyone. "shouldn't have talked to you liked that, c'mere." in a time like this, all you needed was comfort, that was what compelled you to move with his hands, climbing into his lap. the sound of your soft cries soon filled his ears. "i know, i know, 'm so sorry." hand rubbing circles against your back, holding you close.

you didn't mean to cry the way you did, but the weight of the day collapsing on you was enough for you to cling to the boy.

you buried your head in the crook of his neck, wisps of his own hair in front of your face, his hat steady on his head as he held you so gently, as though you were made of glass.

a wobble of your bottom lip as you pulled away from the boy, holding your hands up to your face as if to shield yourself. there was something so scary about him seeing you cry. "i didn't..." your own voice cracking. "i didn't mean to be clingy."

his heart quite literally shattered.

"no, no." his voice sort of high pitched as he pulled your hands from your face. "no, you're not, sweetheart, i promise you're not."

you sniffled at the boy. "but you said―"

carl couldn't dare to hear the rest of such a sentence. "i didn't mean it, baby, i promise." he pulled you back towards his chest, head finding his neck again only this time you didn't cry as hard, mere sniffles leaving your nose. "was bein' an asshole, baby, 'm so sorry."

it'd take a while for you to believe him.

but he'd do whatever it took.

main masterlist/carl's masterlist

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sleepyangelkami · 19 hours

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can I request a Carl x shy reader?❣️❣️❣️

SILENT AFFECTION c.grimes

☆ WORD COUNT - 1k

CARL GRIMES X FEM!READER

☆ SUMMARY - carl's shy girl sneaks her way around silently and still manages to be the one to scare so easily. carl makes you hot cocoa to apologise for his scary movements.

☆ WARNINGS - shy!reader, lots of physical affection, suggestive if you squint, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

you were quiet, eerily so.

then again, you always were.

carl always told you not to be so shy around him, there was no need for your anxious tendencies when it was just the two of you. after all, you'd endured more than most couples your age ever would in their whole lives.

but nonetheless, you always found yourself shying away from the boy.

though, he didn't necessarily mind.

he adored the way your cheeks turned pink so easily. all it took was a quick compliment, a gentle kiss to the back of your hand or perhaps the top of your head. instantly, you were turned into what he thought vaguely resembled a pink glow in the dark glow stick. he swore that sometimes you genuinely did glow in the dark.

it was a sight that was so refreshing. during the horrors he faced daily, he loved coming home to his sweet shy girl, grinning while wrapping around him like a koala.

you were shy. but always affectionate.

it was what led to the many accidents.

being so shy, you were often quiet. this could be mistaken as sneaky at times. the boy would be in the middle of something, head bent and his hand on top of his hat. he'd wonder about whatever it is he was looking at, deep in concentration and how would he ever hear the low pitter patter of your sock-covered feet against the tiled floors.

it was damn near impossible to expect when you were coming. you'd simply scared him by wrapping your arms around his torso too many times. you did it when he was out in the garage, looking over the weaponry, or perhaps he was in the kitchen, not knowing you'd moved from the living room and wrapping your arms around him only when the hot coffee was inside his hands almost leaving him to drop it on the both of you.

luckily, he was a lot more coordinated than you were.

you, on the other hand, were the exact opposite.

you scared like nothing he'd ever seen before.

but he was always so careful with you. he found himself walking towards the kitchen, seeing you drop the warm milk into the mug tactically and slowly. you had a knack for spilling things so you used all your concentration to make sure that the hot chocolate you were making didn't end up on the ground like the last time.

you'd practically cried when carl was on the ground, sweeping up the remains of your mug. you felt so awful, making him do such a thing for you, as though he were a peasant. he'd only laughed at you softly, squeezing your knee and assuring you that it was okay.

carl would do anything for you, that included sweeping up whatever you spilled next.

softly, he knocked on the door of the kitchen, alerting you of his presence. he thought this was for the best, this way you wouldn't get scared when you saw him from the corner of your eye or when he finally laid his hands against the supple of your skin.

but instead, you almost dropped the milk.

luckily for you, it landed straight on the counter with only a little dripping off the side. you jumped from the ground, hand instantly falling over your heart as though you'd seen a train almost crash into you. the look of fear on your face was enough to make carl huff out a laugh at you.

your head snapped towards him, turning a pink colour. "carl." the name rolled off your tongue in a whiny voice, feeling embarrassment flood you at the thought of him seeing you so scared. though, you quickly brushed it off with, "i could have dropped the milk."

he rolled his eyes. "i know, that's why i knocked." he simply had to face it, nothing he did would ever be enough for you not to knock yourself over in fear.

you shook your head at the boy, rolling your bottom lip beneath your top one.

but carl only moved towards you, finding his body coming closer to yours. "you scare so easily." his lips bent down just below your ear. "'s so cute." pressing a chaste kiss to the nape of your neck.

you would have whined, not just for the feeling of his soft lips against your softer skin but because hot pink embarrassment was flooding you like a train. "carl." you groaned out, sticking your head into the chest of his flannel. "shut up." though your voice was muffled through his shirt.

you felt your stomach whirling at the tone he used, calling you cute. it was enough for your head to be reeling and your face feeling hot.

it was so simple and it had you so flustered.

"'m sorry, baby." and that tone, filled with fake sympathy that had you turning away from him, knowing your face was too hot to look at him. he only placed his hands on your waist, making matters even worse. "c'mon, i'll make you hot cocoa, yeah? to say 'm sorry."

you didn't let out a verbal response, mind too coated with the fact that his hands were against your waist, simply nodding dumbly while he reached over to grab the hot milk that had been in your hands before. he was pushed so close to your body and he knew exactly what he was doing.

it almost made you mad, knowing that he knew exactly how flustered you were.

he knew your eyes were strained against his long, pretty fingers gently pouring the liquid. and he knew why.

instead of saying anything, you snuggled into the boy.

this was your best way at getting away with your flusteredness. he always cooed at you, smiling softly as you dug your head into whatever nook and cranny you could find, hiding from his stare in the nape of his neck.

your best chance at a hideaway.

and cozy, too.

main masterlist/carl's masterlist

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