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little-reader · 9 months ago

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Woody Chp. 2

Masterlist

Carl Grimes x Male!Reader

If you were unaware, this is the second season of "The Son Of A Monster." You may not understand the following if you haven't read the first season. Thank you.

Warnings; SHORT MASTERBATION SCENE, Graphic Gore, Death, blood, Slow-burn, Sexual tension, homosexual relationship (If you didn't know), Cursing, Negan is the Readers dad, Enemies to lovers story. Fighting. Zombie Apocalypse. (The Walking Dead TV show)AMC rights, I do use the storyline and some scenes.

Carl ended up in the woods, a bag in his hand with water and food. He snuck out, there weren’t many people at the gate, so it wasn’t hard. He took the usual path when scouting out they would take a safe route, least walkers. He would just need to get back to the gas station he and his dad were near. He was then going to head into the woods, scope it out, and see if the man was really what he thought.

His feet crunched under his boots. Rick left that morning, by himself. The kingdom was ambushed, giving them limited personnel. Maggie wasn’t sure what they were going to do with the saviors, Aaron had a baby to look over, and so far, they were winning. Negan hadn’t given up yet, even though he was surrounded completely by snipers and walkers. Carl wasn’t sure why they didn’t back down. He thought they were stupid for doing so, but nowadays, who wasn’t stupid?

Carl crossed very few walkers before he made it to the section of the woods near the gas station. He was able to avoid them, some trail, and got bored once he picked up his pace.

The section was surrounded by trees and forest, allowing the man to get privacy and somewhat safety. Carl could tell this was it, there were two man-made human-sized toothpicks.

His feet crept slowly, as the walker reached for a bag up high. He barely waited behind the tree, where he saw the man from before. He crept slowly and stabbed the knife into the walker's head, killing it there. Carl knew, or thought, that was the best time to make himself known. He took a slightly hesitant step, and gave a calm “Hey”, out to the man, who glanced in shock.

Carls hands wavered, and lifted, showing an empty hand and one with a bag in it. He took small steps, watching for roots but keeping an eye out. The man across from him stood in warning, nervous by the stranger. “I was my dad, they were warning shots above your head.” He said, still creeping closer, with a calm expression. He was trying to gain the man's trust or have the man not try to shoot him. It was time for him to introduce himself, this would allow him to bond, just a little, with the man. “Wasn’t shooting at you… I’m Carl.”

The man still didn’t fully let his guard down. He looked tired, hungry, and sweating nervously as he held his knife to his side, but pointed at Carl like he was a threat. He shifted on his feet, taking a slight step and glancing around looking for a way out or possibly more people. He pointed to himself, “Siddiq.” He said, a waver in his voice.

Carl looked down at the bag, still slowly approaching, and handed it out. “Food and water.”

Siddiq looked confused, his eyebrows pushing together. “Why?”

Carl breathed in, stopping. “I guess, you were talking about something your mom said. About helping people?.” Carl paused and licked his lips. “My mom told me that you gotta do what's right. It’s hard to know what that is sometimes, but sometimes it's not.” Carl took a big step, then threw the bag to the man, still allowing a safe distance from him.

The bag landed two feet from Siddiq. He looked down, up, and then basically crawled to it. Carl could tell what the man was going through, especially being alone out here, and either being too scared to look for food or being weak and unequal to fight for it.

The man quickly got the bottle of water opened, and gulped it, as some of it ran down his hands. He took a breath and put it down. “Thanks.”

Carl smiled and nodded. “Glad I found you.”

“You went looking for me?” Siddiq asked, standing up, but still keeping distant.

“Yeah, I scavenged the sardines and other stuff.” He paused once again, thinking over his words. “Me and my dad were in a community. I’m gonna ask you a few questions.” He needs to know if he really wants to bring the man with him. He started to, slowly, walk toward the man. “I need you to answer honestly, okay?” Siddiq gave the nod, and a short “Okay”, before he continued. “How many walkers have you killed?” There was no answer. “I know it's hard to-”

“237.” Siddiq breathed out, interrupting Carl.

Carl's head tilted with a surprised look, a slight grin on his face, “Really?” Siddiq looked at the walker he just killed, and replied. “Give or take a couple.” Carl continued with the questions. “How many people have you killed?”

Siddiq swallowed. “One.”

“Why?”

“Dead tried to kill him but… they didn’t.”

Carl nodded, peering at the ground. “You're making walker traps. Is that how you killed so many?” He questioned, gesturing to the trap, where the dead walker lay.

“It's only part of it… My mom thought, or hoped that killing them would free their souls.” Carl understood that. How, at first, people thought the person was still there. That they saw what they were doing, and wished they weren’t. “You know… maybe she was right.”

“Doing that, doesn’t it make things harder for you while you try to survive?” Carl asked, taking a step closer.

“I, I don’t know, I… you got, you got to honor your parents, right?” Siddiq stated, giving his answer to why he was doing what he did.

“If I was honoring my dad, we wouldn’t be talking right now.” Carl joked, with a smile. “Or…” He thought about a week beforehand. About letting him go. His smile dropped. “I definitely wouldn’t be bringing you back to my community.” Siddiq looked at him in shock.

That's when they started to walk. He allowed Siddiq to grab his things and pack, even though he didn’t have much, and they set off. The night was approaching in only a few hours, and the fog started to set. It made it harder to see where he was going, but he knew the path well enough to get home. If he could get home, it was a known rule not to go out of the walls in fog because you couldn’t tell where a walker would come from.

Still, they walked on, stepping over logs without tripping, and up a hill when they heard the gargling from afar. They crouched down and tiptoed down the hill, stopping at a tree where they could see the walkers ripping apart an animal, blood covering them and the ground.

“Hey,” Carl looked at Siddiq and took out his knife. “For your mom.” He stood from his spot and they both went towards the small herd, knives in hands. Carl carried his bookbag off of his back and sat in by a tree as they got closer.

That was when one of the walkers turned and stood, catching the other's attention. They all saw the two and stumbled for the two, teeth and claws ready. Siddiq was able to kill the first one fine until another came right after. It took Carl a bit to kill the first as more started to follow. Carl wasn’t going to back down. He wanted trust, and he was going to earn it.

Carl went to help Siddiq but was pushed into another walker. The walker was able to push him down onto the animal corpes, getting too close for comfort as he tried to push it away. His eyes widened as another came closer. Carl pushed the first walker off of him, for another to fall on him. The first, crawled to him, grabbing his clothes, the walker had his mouth an inch away. He knew in a second he couldn’t get the walker off on time.

Suddenly, Siddiq was pulling the walker off of him with a knife in the other. This allowed Carl to breathe faster than a car. His heart raced, and his eyes watered, but not to the point of crying. Carl wished a different boy was pulling that thing off of him. His hand clutched his shirt as Siddiq held his hand out.

Carl saw a slight image flash in his mind. It was not the hand of Siddiq, but nonother than Y/n fucking Smith. He wished. Full heartedly wished. The smile, the white teeth, the stupid fucking smirk, and the one closed eye due to the sun. But in the blink of an eye, reality hit again. The scared, blood-covered man in front of him, not his partner.

... A week ago

Bullets rang. He was on his knees one second, the next moving out of the line of fire as the war started, really started. It felt like slow motion. The movements, voices, and bangs around him.

He felt blood dripping from his temple where he slammed his head, making sure not to get shot. It was not going as planned. “Shit,” Y/n muttered, feeling the warmth on the side of his head.

He knew the plan well, and getting out of the shooting line was his priority. He felt the mud push under his fingernails as he crawled on his hands and knees, making sure to keep his backpack safely on.

Y/n was able to make it to a wall, where the gate was kept. He had a choice, jump over it and dodge the biters on the other side, get in one of the cars without getting shot, or get eaten by the mob of biters Dixion was bringing down the freeway.

“Fuck. Motherfucker.” He cursed, looking at the cars leaving. His thoughts rolled. He had no other choice. He jumped the long gate, hitting the wires at the top, The wires slid down his face and cut through his shirt. “Ahhhh, shit.” He whispered and yelled, stomping his feet. He felt the burn on his face and arm as he secured his bag and ran for the hills.

Y/n had made it a mile into the woods before stopping. The pain wasn’t extreme, but it still hurt like a bitch. The gash on his arm wasn’t too bad, enough for him to get home fine but continued to bleed. “I'll be fine.” He whispered to himself, sighing. He remembered his backpack and grabbed it off his back. The med kit was safely placed in the side pocket. There were no bandages, and he wasn’t going to waste his time on making a line of bandaids.

He sighed and placed the kit back in the bag. He would just have to hit one of the houses. And the closest safe house was only a mile and a half. “Shit dangerous…dad could come looking for me. They could get out of that mess, they will. That would just put him in danger.” His thoughts were loud as he set off deeper into the woods.

He had a plan. Lose the tracks. He’d take the longer route just in case someone was able to find him or see him jump the gate. Then he’d make his way back to Alexandria.

His feet stepped along the roots and dead leaves, making his way through the autumn air. It was getting colder and the only thing he had, was a thin shirt on. The house wasn’t so far, and he would be able to make it. That's how he kept his thoughts, golden.

Y/n whistled as he went, the little toon his mother once sang to him. The toon was light, and calming in opposition to his current situation. The whistling allowed him to slip away from the world, and forget about what happened, or forget the very situation he was in. He could hear his mother singing it. He could feel the sway of the rocking chair and the slight breeze of the porch breeze. Then the smell of rain, the drip drop on the AC unit, once helping him sleep, is now a nightmare to hear.

Once, Negan, his mother, and he went on a trip to North Carolina, to see a War ship, it rained that day. They stopped nearby and grabbed a bottle that had a ship in it. He remembers sitting on the porch staring at it as it floated in the fake water, and moved with each shake but failed to never sink. His mother would say, “You are that boat, and you will forever be that boat.” Y/n never understood what she meant, he just stared at her, then right back at the ship with a smile.

Those fond memories of the old world. The smell of his baseball games. The soil he slid onto, the mud that would track his clothes, shoes, and body. The icepacks or frozen peas his mother would gently apply on his bruises after each game as she praised her son for doing a good job, relating him to his father. The proud smile on both his parent's faces, as he hit his first home run, racing for the hills as his name was hollered by Y/n’s teammates.

Before Y/n knew it, he was in front of the home, with his hand reaching into his back pocket to fetch the key.

His arm still bled as he entered the house, not troubling himself to care as he made his way to the bathroom down the hall. He flashed on the lights, squinting as he looked up into the mirror, jerking at his reflection. He couldn’t exactly tell whose blood was on him, his, or someone else. However, there was a gash riding from the side of his chin to the start of his cheek. He realized the wound wasn’t too large, but it was the main cause of bleeding. Y/n searched through the medicine cabinet and used a cloth to wrap around his arm before laying out his supplies on the counter. He sat on the toilet, taking a cotton swap and gradually cleaning up the bloodied mess on his arm, wincing every occasional minute. The man skillfully sewed up the wound, the needle and thread gliding effortlessly through the flesh. With the task finished, he then moved on to carefully tending to his injured chin.

He made his way upstairs, not bothering to clean up his mess or the clutter he had made.

As he laid his head down on the pillow, which allowed him to sink in, he felt the weight of the past days lifting off his shoulders. The softness of the pillow provided a comforting embrace, easing the tension in his body as he closed his eyes. He kicked his shoes off, feeling the freedom of letting go of the day's conditions. With each deep breath, he felt himself slipping into a peaceful state of mind, leaving behind the rush and groan of the outside world. It was in this moment of quiet that he found comfort, in his bed, as it began to pass noon and go into the evening.

He felt himself sigh and roll over. His hand slid under his pillow, bringing out the small stack of papers. He moved them around until he found the picture of him and his mother. He ran his thumb over it, the corner of his mouth turning up. That smile reflected her own, the ice cream in her hands melted slightly.

He could feel the slight ache of his arm, and chin, and the healing stab wound. With that slightly uncomfortable sting, he shifted back onto his back, staring at the roof, the old mold that dried out on the cracks that were engraved into the ceiling. Another thing to fix.

Y/n moved his fingertips along his torso, making it ticklish in a way. His eyes closed as his other hand wiped down his face, feeling the prick of his forming beard, and entangled into his hair. He needed a shower, not that he could smell himself, even though he was probably used to the smell either way.

He felt his fingers stop at the crack of his shirt, where his skin poked out from the stretch. He opened his eyes and sighed before moving his hand down, and slowly grabbing himself through his pants. One thing he was taught, don’t let your guard down when alone. He assured himself it was a fine, day, and he could hear outside. He swallowed, covering one side of his face with his hand, and rubbing himself with a groan.

⁶He breathed in, taking his hand to his face and spitting on his palm, then slipped his hand into his pants, and below his boxers as another groan fell from his mouth. His hand wrapped around his dick with a whine. Now, speaking of how he literally just got out on the verge of death, though he really didn’t care, it was a bit weird. He put it off.

The room was filled with quiet groans and grunts as his palm lifted up, and then back down in a repeating movement. He could imagine Carl doing it, which he did. But he knew Carl was young, inexperienced, and a bit dumb, but who was he to talk?

He closed his eyes, imagining Carls had, a lot softer than his, but still rough in their own way. The nervousness, the hesitation, the slight stutter he had at certain points. It was cute, and hot at the time.

He swallowed a groan and pumped himself faster feeling the whine in the back of his throat. “Mother of fucking mary.” The curse fell from his lips as he gripped himself and groaned, head pushing back into the pillow and his teeth barring a grunt that shoved from his throat. Y/n bit into his tongue before it left his mouth and let another groan into his arm.

He would have melted under Carl's touch then and there. He let a moan slip from his mouth as he hit his peak. Stroking a few more times before letting go, panting breaths “Jesus.” He muttered, under his breath, feeling slightly embarrassed by how long he lasted. “You're a cunt.” He said to himself as he shifted in the bed and made himself comfortable.

He stared up at the ceiling, his finger circling his stomach. “What am I gonna do.” he groaned, finally closing his eyes.

@stiveroon

@ritospart

#carl grimes #negan #twd #carl grimes x male reader #the walking dead #twd x reader #twd x you #carl grimes x reader #male reader #negans son #negan x son!reader #negan smith #twd negan #twd carl

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little-reader · 10 months ago

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I LUVLUV ur “son of a monster” series!! i’m so excited to see more!! keep up the great work :)!’

Thank you!! I can't wait to jump back in next week, on vacation right now and wasn't able to post a chapter yet. Luvluv you 💜💜

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little-reader · 11 months ago

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Please don't stop writing I love your series so much I return to it every time I finish can't wait for the next fic!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Babe.... which one 😭Honestly, the only one I really work on is "The Son of A Monster.", and that will be a while before I finally finish it. However, I plan to finish up two chapters before Thursday and post them! If you aren't referring to this series, please reach out!!💜💜

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little-reader · 1 year ago

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Woody - Season Two Released

Masterlist

Carl Grimes x Male!Reader

If you were unaware, this is the second season of "The Son Of A Monster." You may not understand the following if you haven't read the first season. Thank you.

Warnings; Graphic Gore, Death, blood, Slow-burn, Sexual tension, homosexual relationship (If you didn't know), Cursing, Negan is the Readers dad, Enemies to lovers story. Fighting. Zombie Apocalypse. (The Walking Dead TV show)AMC rights, I do use the storyline and some scenes.

“I gotta go, Woody.”

The voice sprang through Carl's head, bouncing around and mixing. The words he heard a week ago. However, he hadn’t seen him since the day he left and he wasn’t brought back. He was pissed, to say the least. Something told Carl he wouldn’t have made it back, but he refused to hear that voice.

Something went wrong with the plan. Negan didn’t back down, even when his son was brought out before him. A second later shots rang out, and everyone had to fend for themselves. Rick didn’t tell Carl much, but they couldn’t find out where he disappeared to, Y/n smith had slipped out somewhere, they weren’t sure where and when he got out, or if he even did. Rick said the cars all pulled out, and he didn’t see Y/n when they were leaving, which calmed Carl down.

Carl stayed up at night watch, hoping there was a slight possibility he might appear out of thin air. Walk down the street with his stupid smile and his arms out. Carl wasn’t in love, he felt more than that. The cold nights he spent that week, watching the roads and trees sway, only made Carl more disappointed that he couldn’t find Y/n. He was truly pissed.

Iris held her stomach, for just about eight months. She worried about the timing, where would she go, without the father of her twins. The father who was gone, even if he was here, was foolish and reckless. Her feet were swollen, and her eyes tired. She helped at the clinic. The past week, they took shots from Negan’s men, some getting hurt and needing medical help. They needed as many hands as they could get. She was there all night and most of the day to make sure everyone was okay and healed.

Iris made friends with the new people when she first came here. They understood her the most, nicer in a way, and she helped them. When she first came here, the people were shocked to find out she was pregnant, mainly because of her age. She was brought in kind arms, which she accepted and gave back. Rick trusted her enough to watch Judith when Carl was busy or if no one else was able to. That gave Iris practice.

She enjoyed the days she got to watch Judith. They would sit on the porch, watching the clouds move, and play with handmade blocks. Kids were something Iris always loved. She adored them and wished to have her own. Though, now how the world was, she was scared. Not just about the kids, but about herself. Would she be safe having to look out for two kids, or would she even be able to make it past birth? Either way, it was her or her kids, and at the moment, she wasn’t sure who’d she choose.

She sat with Judith beside her on the carpet in the Grimes living room. There was a search for Y/n, not a very big one, and barely a search at all. They said they’d keep an eye out for him, but they didn’t even like him. Rick did, he had explained to the men countless times that Y/n was a kid, and kids don’t always understand the world, or what was good or bad. Iris knew that was true, and she was glad Rick had that mindset, especially with Y/n, the son of his enemy.

Judith smiled as she played, surprisingly the day was calm. A group just came back from taking one of the first stations down, they celebrated for another day to live and buried the ones who fought.

She had made Judith a bowl of mushed corn, which she enjoyed. Iris kept finding it around the carpet or on her mouth or hands. She chuckled to herself, wiping the baby's hands for the fifth time, this time making sure it was fully off. Rick was home, in the kitchen with a few others. They were formulating a plan for the next station, well the main topic.

“The kids have been lost for a week, are we even sure he’s alive?” Aaron asked, looking at the map they laid across the kitchen counter. The map had marker lines, pins, and prints marking it, pointing to the places, stations, and whatnot, for them to seek or destroy. Each marking had a certain color, one more important than the other. They were searching for him, Y/n. So far, not a track, means no luck.

“Have we checked in with Hilltop or the kingdom, he might have been able to slip in with one of them,” Toby suggested, his finger running across lines.

“No, we haven’t heard much from the kingdom since the war started, Hilltop has a group of saviors captured, Aaron didn’t see him there,” Rick stated.

Iris wasn’t sure why Aaron continued to help, after the death of his husband, Eric. Though, he lost a family member and gained one on the same day. A baby, cute one too, Grace.

“What if he went back to Negan.”

“He wouldn’t do that.” Rick shut the idea down in an instant. This made the others think.

“Aarons right, what if he went back, it's his dad after all, so what if he ran back to him-”

“Rick's right, he wouldn’t do that.” It was like Iris appeared out of thin air. She shut the man down, just in a second. “He wouldn’t do that. Hell, he's a stupid boy, but he knows when to be smart..”

Toby shifted on his feet, looking up at Iris. “How could we know?” He asked, softly.

Iris smiled. “Because of Carl. He wouldn’t break his promise to him. He cares too much. You may not see it now, or even ever, but Y/n has a heart. Big one too, and Carl? He sees himself in Carl, before all this. If he’s still alive, he either captured, trying to make his way back, or holed up somewhere injured.” She was very serious, her tones stone cold and eyes cutting into their throats. “Find him, if he’s not at Hilltop or the Kingdom, check the woods, near Baste Creek, where that big field is. Carl can probably show you where it is.”

Rick nodded as Iris was called by the baby roaring in the living room. They had a lot to think about, even though there wasn’t much time to spare.

Carl held the knife with the carved “H” in it. What did the “H” stand for? He pondered that for days. He thought of names, repeating them. He thought it might be a state or shop logo, but the carving was too gritty to be those.

It wasn’t that Carl was locked in his bedroom. He was able to leave, but he wasn’t allowed in any of the fighting going against the two teams. Carl saw a man, three days ago, and his dad scared him off. He said it might be a savior spying on them. That Carl refused to believe. He went back and left food for him, writing “sorry” to let the person know he was friendly.

He might go back, see the man again, ask him the three questions, and show his dad he wasn’t a savior. That would leave him vulnerable, but he was willing to risk it. Something he said before that caught his interest.

The morning called. He sighed and bounced off of his bed. It was early. Because of how many people were out, Carl had the duty to make sure everything was safe. He had stations on the wall, gate, or checking the garden and pantry.

He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his hat as it shifted in his hands. He was surprised how long it kept with him, and how long it stayed together. He brushed his hair down with his fingers, shaking his hand from the loose hair that attacked his fingers. Carl ran his thumb over the rim, brushing off the dust, and placing it on his head.

His feet crossed his room and into his closet, grabbing a pair of jeans, a grey long-sleeved shirt, and his flannel.

He didn’t like brushing his teeth, but knowing what it used to be like, he did it anyway.

“Hey,” Carl said, making his way downstairs, and seeing Iris with his little sister. She smiled at him, as she picked up Judith and rested her on her hip.

“Where are you off to today?” She asked, following him into the kitchen. Carl shrugged as he grabbed himself a bottle of water.

“Garden duty, then pantry.” He stated, turning to her with an awkward smile. “Might go outside and hunt, or fish.” Iris nodded and placed Judith down by her feet, cooing at her.

“Are… you okay?” Iris asked, leaning against the counter. Her voice was laced with concern. Carl hummed, and nodded while looking at the floor, “You know, I remember when I was your age… about when the world ended.” She smiled.

Carl's brows almost touched. “How old are you?” He asked, obviously confused.

“That's rude.” She smiled and sighed. “I’m not Y/n’s age. Only a little bit older. Nine-teen. Which makes me four years older than you.” Carl looked a little shocked. He nodded slowly. “When I was fifteen, I used to have mental breakdowns about boys.” She laughed at herself. Iris shifted off of the counter to pull out a chair from the table and bring it over. “It was childish, but, to be fair, I was a child. Now I miss that part of me… anyway, the point is, you're allowed to feel that way. Upset, angry, tired. They're all normal.” Carl bit his lip anxiously and nodded, placing his water bottle on the counter.

‘I, uh… I don’t know.” He sighed and cracked his knuckles. “I guess I’m upset. I mean, I don’t know what happened to him, he said he’d come back and he didn’t, or he hasn’t. All I have is this knife he gave me.” He dug through his pocket and grabbed the switchblade, placing it in front of Iris. She looked shocked and picked it up. “I don’t even know why he gave it to me.”

“Because he adores you.”

“What?”

Iris smiled and looked at the knife. “He never let me touch this knife, you know.” Carl looked at the knife in her hand with a confused gaze. “He didn’t tell you?” He shook his head. Iris sighed and handed the knife over to the younger boy. “It, uh, it belonged to this boy he used to know. After the apocalypse, I hope he told you about his mother?” She asked. Carl nodded, remembering their moment in the fields a month back. “After that, Negan had a small group. Four of them, they would search. Sometimes starve out there. Negan would make sure he had food, and go hunting for days. He almost died at some points with run-ins. One day, his dad came back with a woman, Harriot. She ran a camp with another man, Bert. Anyway, he stayed at that camp for two months before something happened… I'll let him tell you about that part.” She sighed, then pointed to the knife. “That knife was owned by a boy named Husten. They were best friends, more than that really. He fell for him, and Husten saved him with that knife…” She smiled. Carl could tell she was saddened, but maybe not by him dying. He wasn’t quite sure why, but if Y/n was still alive, he hoped he’d open up to him more.

“So, the ‘H’ means Husten?” Carl questioned running his finger over the “H”. She nodded. “That's what I’ve been wondering for the past week.”

“It's a promise, Carl.” She stated, signaling to the knife. “A promise he will come back, and you need to trust him.”

The garden was quiet. No one around. He had a lot to really think about. He did not do it often; hoping for no one to be around. He dug into the dirt with his fingertip, finding a worm. He picked it up and placed it in the palm of his hand. The thing that will live past humans. He’d often see Daryl eat them when they would scavenge, or before Alexandria. Carl thought it was disgusting, but useful if he could hold his stomach eating things like that.

He watched the poor worm wiggle in his hand. He made a hole back in the dirt, and placed it down, watching it sink. However, he stayed sitting. His knees bent and his arms wrapped around them as he stared at the dirt.

Carl found himself daydreaming a lot recently. He couldn’t help it. He wished for a lot. For the war to stop, for the deaths to stop, for his lover to come home, for them all to agree and make up. He knew this could never happen, maybe Y/n coming home, but the rest? No.

His heart pounded as he closed his eyes. His mind drifted elsewhere.

He could see the laughter in the distance. It bounced in his brain and stuck to his skull. The sun shone into his eyes and blinded him unless he placed his hand over his brows. He remembers the gentle hand of his mother. The lawn in the back of their family home, or the old school friends, when their mothers would allow play-dates. He remembers when his mother would wait outside the school every day for him to get out. Something he could only wish to see again. The smile, which he can barely remember, placed on her sweet face. The memory of a mother. Would that be for him and Y/n? Only the memory of him?

The laughter walked away, and the dream shifted. He could see him. The smile, the two kids, the house in a field. The dream he had months prior. He wished it were true. The two children. The smiles, and the change. The happiness.

He wished for the other boys to kiss again, on his lips or cheek. He missed him. He would be missing him.

He also missed the freedom of the woods. Sure, there were lots of walkers. But the nature was free and quiet. It was a god sent.

He missed the walks outside the most. With him and his group, a bunch of badasses, strong and independent. I could feel him needing to be back in those woods.

He found himself in the pantry, with a small bag. If he was going to go out, he would do it for a reason, and to him, this was a good one.

Carl thought of just going outside for no reason, but that would be fruitless. So, he grabbed himself a water bottle, and a nutrition bar, and left for the escape wall. He didn’t really need to, he could have just gone through the gate with no problem, but for “old” times' sake, he would go over the same wall they used to.

He knew the paths like the back of his hand. The smell felt like home. His boots felt comfortable with each step. He felt his heart race. Memories came flooding back, of when he and Y/n would sneak out and goof off. They would go to the boarded-up house and sit on the rusted couch, reading comics. That, or the field, and sit and stare at the sky. Carl could hear the laughter, like before, in his ear.

Y/n ran through the field, Carl chasing after him. The stupid grin on his face as he ran off into the tree line. They had been out most of the day, messing around at an old game store. They had a small stash in their bags, but y/n ended up setting off the alarm, and instead of trying to turn it off, he ran out of the store in a second.

Carl finally caught up to him. Only because his face was smushed into the dirt. “You dumbass.” Carl laughed as the other boy lifted himself out of the mud, spitting a bit.

“God, I think I swallowed something.” He started to gag and spit. Carl laughed and hit the back of his head. “I'm serious… I think it was a beetle… I’m gonna puke.”

Carl had to hold his hair back as he puked into a nearby river. He had laughed the whole time. That was the first time Carl really realized the other boy was human. When he realized he felt things, and he wasn’t a monster like his father.

He smiled at the memory of the boy. Something he couldn’t forget even if he tried.

Carl was back at the house, where they’d hang out a lot. He needed to be sure the boy was there or not. There was something he noticed. Blood, dripping into the house. It was old, a week. Carl knew, this could be it, he could be here alive or dead. He hoped alive, and he hoped he was here.

He held his gun out. His hand reached out and opened the door, that was locked the last time he was here. He looked around, then slowly opened the door and pushed in. The room was like not messy. Almost the same. He closed the door, making sure he was quiet, and made his way through the living room. The house wasn’t so large, but large enough for someone to hide.

He followed the blood trail into the bathroom. The bathroom cabinet had been ransacked. A bloody towel sat on the side of the sink. Medicine spilled on the floor, an empty cup, and then some bandages gone. Something happened to the other boy. Carl made his way to the kitchen. It looked like he was fine, the blood trail ended in the bathroom.

Cans of food were missing, and Y/n had a log kept up, making sure no one was in his home. Carl looked through it. Finally. He found some writing, with a bloody fingerprint. It had to be him. He had written what he took, and the date. It was in fact the day after he went missing. He must have got here and left. Carl was confused. Why hadn't he found his way home, and where was he now?

He then decided to make his way upstairs, ensuring no one was downstairs. The floorboards creaked under his feet. The fine railing under his calloused hands.

There wasn’t much. The bed was unfixed, he must have stayed, then left. Carl wasn’t sure where he went off to, but at least he knew he survived the incident with Negan. This let his hopes run.

Carl felt the sheets under his hand, rubbing his thumb under them. Something peeked out of the corner of the pillow. Carl lifted it. His eyes widened. Notes, papers, and photos. All were collected together in a neat pile, hidden from anybody who would break in, and not search under the pillow.

Carl sat down and placed his gun on the nightstand. He started to go through the sheets.

The first paper had been written on.

Home needings: The back wall in the third bedroom is growing mold. Flooring is coming up in the living room. The wallpaper is peeling in the nursery. The stairs need to be rebuilt…

Carl smiled at the paper and placed it beside him. The next thing was a stack of pictures, some drawn and some photographed. There was one with a woman and a baby and Negan, but he was younger, WAY younger. Carl thought he looked happier. The next was just the woman, showing off her ice cream. He flipped again. It was Y/n, with a bat in hand as he swung. Carl sighed but kept going.

Family photos, some of him and Iris, and then sonograms. Carl flipped to the last photo. This one shocked him. It was him asleep, with a bowl in hand. He remembers this. They went on the porch one night, past bedtime, and watched the stars with a bowl of corn, Y/n’s joke. He ended up passing out, but he thought y/n did the same. Rick scolded them that night.

He smiled and placed the picture back.

He started flipping through the papers. A lot of them were from magazines, pictures of the world before… and some adult content that Carl had thrown under the pillow. It was obvious how long the other boy had been staying here, even before the two met. There were also drawings of Alexandria. Some of the walls, with little notes, say “The escape wall”. There was one of Judith and Iris together. Not detailed, but Carl could tell who it was.

Then, there was the lake, with a hat, Carl’s hat, floating in the middle of it. On the back of that drawing, was a note: There was a lake and lakehouse about five miles west of the house. It’s nice too. I didn’t have a chance to check out the lakehouse, or shed, or whatever it is. There might be some supplies. The lake had a few biters in it, I almost drowned the other day. One grabbed my leg, but I was able to play it off, I didn’t want to worry Carl.

He remembered Y/n telling him he was just a pro at holding his breath, now he has proof that he’s a loser. Carl laughed at the thought and placed the paper down. Another drawing. This time, it was two hands, fingers touching, with a smaller picture of a different boy attacked. “H”.

The field is just above the lake and lake house. It's quiet. I went back today to make sure the gate around it is strong and there are no biters in the field. I almost got bit by a copper head, killed it, and ate it. Saved some for Carl, he said it was gross and I could keep it. Iris liked it though, but she likes it a lot. A few days ago, when me and Carl found it together, after the lake, we shared a moment. I wasn’t sure if it was just me, and I guess I won’t be sure. I know something though, I like the feeling of our hands touching. It reminds me of Hue… I miss him.

Carl felt like he was invading at that point, and decided to gather up everything and place it back into the pile it was once in, and under the pillow. However, he noticed something shining. He grabbed it and lifted it. A homemade necklace, with a shard of some kind. It had a beautiful print on the outside, like a plate. He placed it back safely, and made the bed, feeling like he had too.

He set back home before someone noticed he was not there.

Chapter 2

@ritosparty ❤️

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little-reader · 1 year ago

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hi!! your “son of a monster” series has become one of my favorite ever!! i love the way you’ve written the whole plot and i look forward for future chapters :)!

That really made my day! I'm glad you're enjoying it so far!! I always try my best.❤️❤️

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little-reader · 1 year ago

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Hey,

I'm loving son of a monster, it's a really cool fic

How far into the timeliness are you planning to take it?

Thank you! I am currently working through season eight and trying to finish it. I'm not sure if I should continue beyond that, but after completing "The Son of A Monster", I may create an aftermath story somewhere around season nine. I have been considering this for a while, and I am glad that you asked about it! ❤️❤️

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little-reader · 1 year ago

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"The Son of A Monster." Ch. 9 - Season one ending.

Masterlist

Carl grimes x Male!Reader

Warnings; Graphic Gore, Death, blood, Slow-burn, Sexual tension, Gay awakening (For both), Cursing, Negan is the Readers dad, Enemies to lovers story. Fighting. Zombie Apocalypse.

I had woken to silence and still. My eyes felt burned out as I opened them. I was bruised. I refused to move, but instead looked around the room. Same bed as last time. I must have passed out. I felt fine though, well, okay enough to move my head. Toby was looking over something, a gun in his holster, and glasses hanging on his nose. It was late morning, a few birds chirping off in the distance and the sun shining in the front windows.

My throat was dry and I was dizzy. I looked over to the nightstand, where water sat again. I blink a few times, before reaching over slowly. I could see my hands shaking, sweaty, as I grabbed the glass. I felt the weight of the water as it slipped from my grasp.

I felt my shoulders jump when the glass landed on the floor and shattered into several pieces. My eyes closed tightly as I heard Toby mutter an “aw, shit” and move away from his chair. I could hear the wheels on the chair scratch against the wood as he pushed it in and moved around the room.

I wanted to know if someone else came into the room. My eyes were being blinded by the lights in the room. They would strain too hard to see anything if I tried to open them.

I felt glass press to my arid lips and a hand pushing back my long hair, that I have yet to cut since it's been growing out these past few months. The voice was muffled. Like it was underwater. I grunted and shifted my head away, cracking my eyes open and trying to focus on the person in front of me. My ears started to clear out and I could see the faint outline of the person in front of me.

Eric something. That curly man's husband. Aaron. I know Iris loved to have meetings with the two. She said they were both great to talk to, helping and kind. Iris. I forgot about Iris, I haven’t seen her since I left. How long was I out?

I muttered nonsense and looked around slightly, checking for more people. Only him and Toby. Toby was cleaning the glass and water off of the floor. “Kid is out of it,” Toby said, looking down at me. “Can’t hold anything, probably can’t move much right now.” He dumped the glass in the trashcan.

“He needs water,” Eric said, placing the cup back on the side table. He sighed and started to work on the bandage. “He should be fine, his infection has left in the past few days.” He stated. “It makes it even better he doesn’t smell like puss, and that he’s finally conusious.”

Toby nodded. “Barely.”

I let my eyes close again as they continued in silence. Then, there was a sudden sting that honestly brought me to life. I grabbed the man's arm and yelled, more out of shock, as he cleaned up the wound. I tried to move away, but surprisingly, he was able to keep me in place. I grimaced, “Stop. That… fucking hurts.”

“And he’s talking, even better.” A known voice, one that I haven’t heard until now. Iris came behind the curtain, holding her stomach. I sensed sarcasm in her voice when her tired eyes gazed at me. The bandage was changed in a second before Eric moved back.

I kept eye contact from where I lay. Eric patted her shoulder before he left the office, toby leaving, giving us space. I already knew what was coming, something I wasn’t in the mood for, but it was better for me to if it happened now.

“You… okay?” I said, slowly debating my words. She took that as an invitation and came closer.

She pushed back my hair and sat on the edge of the bed. I closed my eyes and relaxed slightly. “You need a haircut.” She whispered, one hand playing with my hair and the other tracing my jaw. I felt her nails scratch slightly on my skiing. “And a shave.” I shook my head and held her hand.

“Like it long,” I said, rubbing her hand with my thumb. “You shouldn’t be back here,” I stated, my eyes searching hers. She shook her head. “He’ll come back. Harder than ever.” I stated. She only nodded and kissed my cheek.

“You’ve been out for two weeks.” She stated, resting her head on mine. I sighed. A whole week, plus the days I missed before I passed out. “Ricks got a plan. A good one. But this will cause death, and a blown-out war.” She said, grabbing my chin and pointing at her. “Soon, nowhere will be safe. You need to recover, now. If you don’t, you’ll die.” It was bland, the way she said it. Ominous. Her tone scared me slightly as I held her wrist in my hand. I could feel the pulse under her thin skin.

“I’m sorry,” I said, and she hummed. “I… don’t want that relationship with you, Iris. I can’t. I really can’t.”

“Shut up.” She said, kissing my forehead, She then dug through her pocket, and grabbed one of my hands, before placing something in it. I peered down and smiled. “I saw it on one of our dead ones. I didn’t tell anyone who it was.” She said, handing me the knife and I smiled. I traced my fingers over the carvings and held the switchblade to my chest.

“Thank you.”

I sat in that bed for four days since I awoke when I decided I was truly ready to leave it. I had gotten changed and then left for the Grimes. No one was home, but I later found out what their plan was. It involved me. Rick and the groups have been working hard. They have a whole huge plan, though Iris said she was not allowed to speak any further in the matter, and I should get rest while I can. I wasn’t quite sure if I had a choice in the whole matter, but I guessed I would be forced into it.

“He’s probably dead by now,” Simion said, staring at Negan from his stance at the door. Negan sat there thinking, “formulating” a plan. At least, that's what he was trying to do. His mind had been all over the place. “Kid’s got a mouth on him. Plus… I know you don’t want to hear it, but that shootout and the wound he had the last we saw him. He wasn’t doing so hot.” He stated, pushing himself off the wall and making his way over to Negan. “They must have killed him.”

Negan slammed his fist onto the table. “Shut the hell up, Simon. You don’t get to tell me whether my kid is dead or not.” He said, rubbing his eyebrows. He didn’t say anything else.

I was reading through one of Carl's Marvel comics. I wasn’t allowed out of the room until tomorrow, meaning, the plan was more likely in the next two days. I still wasn’t sure what they were planning to do, but it had to be a strong plan to take down multiple armed stations. I know a few that are harder than the others. Station three, the one I ran, was the easiest. This one had a baby, but it was away from most mobs or civilization and safely guarded but not as armed.

Though, knowing the crowd, they would keep the baby alive and well.

The door creaked open. I kept my eyes on the comic in front of me, as the steps paused.

“Your… awake?” Carl asked, wide-eyed and confused. I nodded and hummed. “That's… you should be sleeping.” He stated, placing something down in the room before snatching away the comic and placing it down neatly in his stack.

“I was reading that,” I said, leaning up by my elbows. My eyebrows furrowed as he cleaned up his desk, ignoring me. “Hey…” I softened my tone slightly, throwing my feet over the bed and fully sitting up. He was shuffling his desk around, I didn’t quite understand why he was doing it now. I watched, silently, as he finished up and sat down, with a box in hand.

“You left these here.” He threw the box to me, I caught it and examined it. My cigarettes are barely used, only two missing. “I meant to give them to you when you first woke up, but…”

I paused and peered up at the boy. “... yeah…” I placed them down softly on my pillow. “Thank you.” It was a simple gesture from him, but I was thankful. I watched his eyes droop, though I couldn’t tell what he was feeling. No, that's a lie. The way his eyebrows were furrowed, the twitch of his nose, and the crinkle of his cheeks. “You're upset?” I asked, tilting my head slightly.

“Stupid plan my dad has.” He stated. It only made me more curious. “He wanted me to talk to you about it.” I sat up straight on the bed, feeling a slight jolt in my abdomen. “You okay?” He asked, turning towards me slightly. I only nodded and grunted for him to continue. He messed with his hands nervously.

I patted the bed. “I can wait,” I stated, scooting closer to the wall, leaving room for him. He looked at me like I was stupid, thought I was grinning at him stupidly, and got up to cross over the room and join me.

We end up on the bed together, my arm wrapped around his shoulder and his head barely resting near my chest. Anxiety. He was anxious, I could tell by the small twitch and fidget of his connected fingers. His breathing was slow but I could feel his heartbeat fasten slightly.

I reached over and untangled his fingers before wrapping them with my own. I feel his sigh and shift. He lifted my hand and moved beside me, keeping our hands interlocked. I stared at his side profile for a bit, allowing him to take a moment where he could be calm. Plus, I just like looking at his freckles.

“It can't be that bad.” I slightly whispered after a while. He shook his head and huffed before looking at me.

“Dad has been collecting fuel and cars since Negan left. He built metal walls on them so he could line them up. We had some before this, we had to move walkers away from an area before they got out and destroyed Alexandria. The metal plates are strong enough to reject bullets. He plans on taking those cars to your dad, telling him to give up. If he doesn't, he sends a signal to Daryl, and Daryl starts leading a whole army of walkers to your dad's sanction.” Carl explained in detail, trying not to leave anything out. I nodded through the whole thing. Damn Nut, Rick is. He’s smart but ruthless and risky.

I paused, he still didn't tell me what I had to do. “My part?”

“The fucking bait.”

I hummed, moving away from him slightly. The bait, Rick was smart. Though, unfortunately, that wouldn’t work. He was too stubborn for that. He’ll try to destroy everything before Rick can get to him, even if he fails. Or maybe it will make him back down. He’s protected me for years, but maybe it’s time for me to leave the nest, and fly. Fall first, then pick myself up, slowly. I’m already in that stage. Getting left behind. I didn’t realize that. I was left-

A hand slowly brought me back from my own thoughts. Carl looked at me sadly, his hand barely laid on my shoulder.

“You won't be there?” It came out like a whisper. He let out and small breath and shook his head. I felt myself do the same. “It won't work.”

“Think we all know that,” Carl said, in a very light tone. I patted his hand lightly and left it there. “I could sneak in-” “No.” I interrupted him. “But-”

“If your dad said no, then it's dangerous. I'm more experienced than you. I'll be fine, Carl.” I stated, turning to look at him. I think he realized I was serious because he glared at me.

“You could get hurt.”

“So could you.” We both, we're getting pissed. Though, I wasn't letting down. I wasn't going to let him walk into a battlefield with no shield. That would give an opportunity for Negan to have a hostage, Rick to get distracted… or Carl on the ground bleeding out. “I can handle myself, I've been through this a thousand times. Carl… I'd rather me get hurt than you.” My voice turned into a whisper, my face rested and eyes softened. His eyes didn't soften a bit as they stared into mine. His eyebrows twitched from the strain and he swallowed slightly.

“I don't want….” He picked his lips. “I don't want you to die.” It was simple. I smile a bit and let out a chuckle. “It's stupid-” he paused and glared harder at my slight laugh. “-and you're stupid.” He shoved my shoulder and tried to move away from me. I laughed a little harder and pulled him over, my arms wrapped around his shoulders. He crossed his arms as I connected his back to my chest. “We don’t have to fight. We can fix it, agree, and be in peace. My dad doesn't have to kill yours, no one has to die.” He ranted on. It was purely background noise for me. I've heard this from others. Peace. They weren't wrong, but they were Human. Brutal, Foolish, and disgusting creatures who ruin each other without truly realizing it. Human instinct. I won't tell him that because I know he knows that.

I remember what my mother used to talk about. Humans were disappointing, and destroying the beauty and life of the world, taking everything from the soil and drying it up.

I watch as Carl breathes, frustrated. I rest my head on his shoulder, slowly. Relationships are weird too. Not a bad weird. It's confusing, the beginning of a relationship, I ask myself what I can do and what can't. I test the waters.

Carl sighs and leans closer to my body. “You sure you're gonna be okay?”

I thought for a moment. I've been through war and fights with other groups we've encountered. All messy, leaving dead and injured. People were a resource, but medical supplies were rare.

I dug through my pocket, taking Carl's hand and placing the switchblade in it. “Promise,” I said, wrapping my arms around him. Carl ran his fingers over the cover and metal.

“H? You pick this off of someone.” He asked, looking at the engraving. I stared at the knife. Flashes of the fire, hue.

“Something like that… it's important to me.”

Rick came to see me in the morning. He was calm, asking if Carl explained. I agreed to do whatever, however dangerous. It wasn't for him though, Carl and Iris, and the twins. Those were my main focus.

“You know this won't work, right?” I asked him before he left. Rick paused and turned slightly on his face. He opened his mouth and closed it. “Maybe… you'll kill him…” I could see a slight grimace in his face when I said that, though I continued. “But not today, not tomorrow. He'll kill your people like there's no tomorrow, destroy you, and finally, leave you with dead family before you kill him.”

I lifted myself from the living room couch, my bag sat beside me, extra clothes, food, medical kit, two cans of food, gun and ammo, and a knife. Rick said just in case something went wrong, everyone would need one. Cigarettes in another pocket with a lighter.

Rick nodded, he didn't know how to reply to that, considering Negan was my dad. What was he supposed to say? “I'll kill your dad”?…sounded bad.

The next second, I was told we were leaving soon. I was heading upstairs.

“We’re leaving soon, about 20 minutes,” I said to Carl, who was on my bed looking at the knife, his hat laid beside him. He didn't give a straight reply, only a short “hm” and he dragged the knife tip over the bedside table. I stared for a second, before dropping my bookbag gently and kneeling. “I'll be fine,” I whispered, tucking his hair out of his face. His face was stone cold, with little emotion but pissed.

“Don’t leave.” He whispered. I gave a slight sigh and shook my head. “You came into my life and became a best friend and… what if you don’t come back?” My face saddened with a frown as I lifted myself halfway. My hand reached through his hair as I gave him a light kiss. He hummed, pushing back slightly. I hummed and pulled back, staring into his eyes. I wasn’t sure if it was love, or the thought of me not coming back that made me push for more. His lips were soft, dry, but soft. I had my hand under his bandage that wrapped around his head as I pushed up, both of us laying on the bed. I went easy, remembering he wasn’t as experienced as I was. He was also younger.

I moved my head to the side, allowing me to get more room. We barely separated with each kiss, spit smearing over our chins and going to his cheek. One arm under him, the other holding his hip. His shirt slid up slightly, allowing the little touch of his skin to press on my thumb. I cherished this, keeping it close, keeping him closer. His hands, one in my hair, the other wrapped around my neck, moving slightly, he wasn’t sure where to place them or what to even do.

I allowed myself to pull back. His eyes, were full of lust, eyes I’ve seen before. I probably had the same. I felt my tongue run on the bottom of my lip. The spit trail from my lips to his fell and broke apart. I reach up and grab his hand, wrapping my fingers into his, and connecting them. I pressed my forehead against his. “I gotta go, Woody.”

I loved him. My heart beat into his, making a tune and forming a song altogether. Funny, how it all began. The King and Monster fight, while the prince falls for… well, the son of a monster.

Season one ending. Season 2 chapter 1 - Woody

#carl grimes #carl grimes x male reader #negan #twd x reader #twd #twd x you #the walking dead #carl grimes x reader #male reader #negans son #rick grimes #negan smith #twd negan #male #michone grimes #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon

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little-reader · 1 year ago

Text

"The Son of A Monster." Ch. 8

Masterlist

Carl Grimes x Male!Reader

Warnings; Graphic Gore, Death, blood, Slow-burn, Sexual tension, Gay awakening (For both), Cursing, Negan is the Readers dad, Enemies to lovers story. Fighting. Zombie Apocalypse. Implied rape.

I sat in a room I was quite familiar with. This time, it had an extra bed, with blankets lying at the end. It was moved into the house after I was checked. I lay in this bed for hours. My back was facing the room as I stared at the wall. Plain blue wallpaper with a few cracks. There wasn’t much to do. I felt like a misbehaving child, sent to his room without supper. I was tired, and I hadn’t seen anyone since I came into this room.

There wasn't much to say. What could I say? I sighed, staring at my fingers as I fiddled with them. The talking downstairs could be heard as it echoed through the hallways outside the door. I wasn't sure what they were talking about, but I could guess. I feel as though I will not be leaving this house or room for a while. A long while. I guess it wasn't too bad. A bed, food, a shower... and alone with my thoughts. It wasn't all that bad, it was quiet and calm, just what they wanted.

I could hear footsteps coming upstairs and walking down the hall as I closed my eyes. The door handle was turned and pushed in. Soft feet camp in and close the door. I could hear the creak of the other bed and a light flip on, a lamp beside his bed, and pages flip. His beloved comics. That's what he was reading. It wasn’t usual, he'd stay up for hours either rereading comics or action books. Sometimes, he would draw with a Sharpie, making his figures.

I thought that was cute. He is making his figures. When he left the room, I would skim through his stack of papers, looking at the small pictures he drew.

I sigh silently, slowly moving my head to look at the other bed. He was doing exactly that. Reading a book this time in his bed. His hat was hung on the top of the lamp and flannel was thrown at the bottom of the bed. His shoes were left at the door, showing how he lazily took them off.

“You up?” He asked, making me realize he was looking at me. I hummed, and looked at the wall, playing with my fingers. Why did they put me in this room? As a joke, or had he asked? Or was he now supposed to watch over me like I did with him? Doesn't matter really. I'm stuck. He left me behind. For all he knows, I could be dead… I rub my eyes, yawning. “Dad said you're allowed out of the house if someone's watching over you.” He states as I give him another small hum. I was sure this annoyed him, by his small sigh and the sound of shuffling behind me. His light moved and pointed at me. I could see his shadow moving around on the wall as I had my head shoved into the pillow. My fingers played with the fabric of the pillowcase, pulling on the old rattan tag that was attached to it.

I felt a dip in my bed as Carl sat behind me, getting comfortable. I wasn’t sure what his motive was, but I didn’t appreciate it as I moved closer to the wall. I pushed my body forward and rolled onto my stomach, the blanket slipping off me because of the movement and Carl sitting on it. I grunted.

It was a while before he read. I could hear the book pages flip, and see his shadow moving as I stared at it. My heart beat a little faster. Something hit me rather quickly. I kissed him. In front of his family. His whole family. Shit. Though, he acted like it didn’t happen. I couldn’t tell what hurt worse, rejection or throwing it away. Another mistake, another damn mistake. It pissed me off to think he put off the kiss. But that was selfish. I was selfish. Now I’m here, with Carl reading on my bed, in a room I’m stuck in, in a town I have been in for months. I was always stuck here. This time, it would be harder to leave, to sneak out.

I sighed and turned on my back, now staring at the ceiling. Carl looked over from his book at the sudden movement. I stared at him, before letting my arm smack into his book down and sighing again. He rolled his eyes.

“I'm… sorry,” I said, barely over a whisper, as I left my armrest on his lap and stared at my fingers again. I raised an eyebrow. His head tilted slightly. “I… I’m sorry, for everything.” I whispered, only glancing at him for a second. Lifted myself into a sitting position, letting out a breath as I did. “I didn’t know why I was going home. I didn’t know he was gonna kill your people, hell I did too.” I paused, picking at my nails. “And I’m sorry for doin’ that in front of your family. It was selfish,” I stated, not daring to look at the young boy. I was honestly scared to look at him. What emotion would lie in his expression? Disgust?

I jolted slightly as he placed his hand on mine. I didn’t move them for a moment before I started to wrap my fingers intertwined with his. I sighed softly. “I don’t know what to feel. It's new for me.” Carl said, in the same calm voice, as he stared at our hands. “I…” He pauses like he’s trying to think about what to say. “I like you… and the time I spent with you, it wasn’t just me keeping you away… I’m sorry about that too. I enjoy spending time with you, Y/N. I love going out of the walls almost every week, watching you tell stories in that old house. I love going to that lake, going in and sitting in the field to dry off and stare at the clouds. I love when you give me your comic collection or teach me how to make pasta… I feel myself around you.” He stated, playing with my fingers. “Everyone warned me you’d hurt me… and all you’ve done is the opposite. I can’t count how many times you’ve saved my ass out there, in here… you make this world… better.” He grips my hand, now staring at me. I stare back. I want him. Crave the boy near me. I lifted my hand and rubbed his cheek, pushing his hair out of his face, and looking at his face. His bandage covered the side of it, and his face looked like he was confused, but strong in his emotions.

“I… you know… 'm two years older than you... Bigger than you.” I started like I was trying to deny, reject, or back out. He broke eye contact and nodded, “Hey…” I paused, dipping my head down to catch his gaze. “Just… no funny business,” I whispered, and he chuckled slightly, then left it to a small smile. I rubbed his chin with my fingers. I felt his hand squeeze mine as my eyes flickered to his lips.

I smiled and kissed his cheek softly, pulling his chin to kiss the other. I kissed the corner of his mouth, then his chin, and the tip of his nose before I paused. I felt content at the moment. I looked down, my eyes locking with his, as I rubbed his chin with my thumb softly, and softly pressed my lips to his mouth, letting myself sink into the other boy. I let my hands wrap around his hair, bringing him closer.

I had my body draped across his, our legs wrapped together. I had just noticed how much bigger I was than him, but he was younger, so that might change shortly. I had my arms wrapped around his torso, and my head propped against his shoulder as he read. The blanket went to my shoulder. I closed my eyes, letting myself soak in his body heat as I drifted to other places. My mind kept on him as I fell asleep.

Dusty fields overlapped my body, the ingrown wheat or the yellow fields surrounded me as I lay in them. I opened my eyes, slowly looking around, I saw clouds looking down upon me as I was suddenly lifted into a standing position without moving a muscle. I blinked, turning my torso, but unable to move my feet forward. I could see a hand peeking out from the crops as I squinted. I felt my hands clench. The hand from the crops reached out towards me, inviting me in. The ring on the finger was oddly familiar, the hand pale and purple, with long nails and a pearl bracelet. Soft and dead. I reached out for it, trying to speak, I knew the hand quite well, or so I had not seen this hand in a while. I tried to screech out. But hands from the fields behind me started to grab me and pull me into them. I leaned my upper body over, trying to grab the hand, I wanted to yell out, but nothing came out, just the sound of the wind. The other side of the field was lit on fire, engulfing the hand as I was pulled in. One gloved hand, a smaller hand with dirt in its fingernails, two children's hands, and a dead hand with long nails and a black sleeve.

My eyes opened wide, feeling the sweat pool on my back as I lay there and felt my lungs heave quickly. I swallowed, my throat dry as I moved myself away from the sleeping boy. He shifted in his sleep, turning his back to me as I climbed over his legs. My feet touch the ground, feeling the floor beneath them. Something felt off about this room, it wasn’t set perfectly. I mean, everything was in its place, the book Carl was reading, same color, same light, same bead, sheets and blankets… Something was different. I felt wrong as I stood in the middle of the room. It started to cave, the room was getting smaller, and the walls started to turn into shapes as I started to lose my balance. The humming was heard behind me, in different tones, pulling me towards the voice. Blackness. Sweat and a thud.

“He just got out and passed out,” Carl said, looking at the two for help. “He won’t wake up and he’s not responding.”

Yelling was heard down the hall as Rick and Michonne got out of bed quickly, and raced down the hall with weapons in hand. The door slammed open, and the two looked around, expecting to see a different scene. Carl looked panicked on his knees, looking at my sweating, pass-out body as he held my head in his lap.

“Michonne,” Rick said, putting his gun down. She nodded and left the room. Rick made a quick effort to check my pulse. “He’s not doing so hot,” Rick said, feeling the heat radiate off of my body. He lifted my shirt up and slowly peeled off the bandage. “Jesus.” He said, covering his nose and pushing it back.

That made Carl panic more. “What? What is it?” He said, going to pull the bandage but Rick moved his hand back. The smell circled the room. “Dad.” He said, covering his nose. “What's wrong?” He questioned.

Rick shook his head, looking at his son before pulling the bandage and turning on the bedside light. “That smell… that is the infection,” Rick said, looking at the deep wound. There was goo covering the bandage and wound. Carl's eyes widened.

Carl watched from his bed as Aaron, Toby, Daryl, and Carol came in with a carrier. Carol looked over the wound, whispering where Rick could not hear. Michonne had a medical box with her as they lifted my body on a board. Carol took off the old bandage and wiped down the wound with an alcohol wipe. They slowly carried me out of the room to take care of me somewhere else.

Carl was left awake, in his room alone. His thoughts left him in worry.

“Who checked him yesterday?” Rick asked, outside the medical building. Daryl shrugged. “That boy looks like death, his skin is rotting and nobody noticed?” He asked, looking at the group.

“Must have happened when he was taken off the IV,” Michonne stated, looking at the door. “But you're right, he shouldn’t have been brought out.” Rick sighed, hands on his hips.

Fire. I burned through my veins. I was replaying the day over and over. The woods lit. Screaming and blood. Replay after replay.

A hand ruffled my hair as I pushed it off. My small hands patched up a jacket with a needle. “Me and some boys are going to go hunt for rabbit,” Negans said, looking down at me with a sight smirk. I smile back at him. “You be good and stay out of Bert's way, don’t think he likes us after the fight.” He whispered the last part and I nodded.

He had his bat and a bow. The others laughed and waved him over, he called to them and once again, ruffled my hair before leaving. There weren’t many people here, in the tiny civilization we called home. There were tents, big and small, for different families or groups. Groups of watchers are on the sides of the camp, keeping the people inside safe.

I was in a group of girls, and my small body was not able to help the other boys, or at least that is what the others said, and my dad agreed with them. So I stayed with the other girls, helping out with washing, sewing, cleaning, and butchering. It wasn’t just because I was small. I played many sports and built up strength from them, but I was younger and smaller than the rest of the boys, even some girls my age. But I hadn’t minded, that meant I could stay away from one side of the camp. Bert ran half of the camp, and Harriot ran the other. They were connected, chores scattered in many places of the camp but both of them knew how to do two different things. Harriot was a kind woman, who showed me kindness and softness when meeting our small group at first. Then there was Bert, who hadn’t wanted us here in the first place. He fought my dad quite a lot. I’ve sometimes seen my dad grip his bat, looking at it in our shared tent when he thought I was asleep. Bert is an ass, to say the least. Someone you shouldn’t be near. But he wasn’t stupid. He kept his eyes trained on me most of the time. Sometimes I would make eye contact with him to see him glaring at me from afar. But he’d only mess with me when my dad was gone, or when Laura was not watching over me.

I sat quietly, finishing up with the patched pants, that I was quite proud of, when I heard feet trail behind me. I look over my shoulder, folding the pants in my lap. Bert and a few boys, who looked like they wanted to kill me, stood with me with a grin plastered on his face.

“Boy.” He said, crossing his arms. “I think it’s time you do some real work, not sitting around like a little lady.” This made the boys laugh at me, I felt like a turtle that started to tuck into its shell. I glance at the pants and back at him.

“But… my dad said-” He interrupted me with a huff. “- blah, blah, blah.” He said, waving his hand. “I’m sure you’d be fine. You need to be a man, boy.” He said, grasping my arm and pulling me up. “Need to help or I’ll tie you in a tree, let the bitters get ya.” I gulped, nodded along with him as I stood, and placed the pants on the log where I sat.

I was pulled along with the other group of boys, clearly smaller and younger than them. I let myself glance as we passed out of the camp ridge over at Bert’s side, near the butcher tent and fire. The dawn just started to settle. We stopped by the fire, where logs sat near a tree. “Now, c’mon boys.,” He said, clapping as they started moving logs. I looked around, confused without directions. Bert looked at me like I was stupid. “Dammit, boy. Move em’!” He yelled, pointing to the tent. I rapidly nodded and started to move the logs slowly. I had two in each arm, they were heavy but nothing I couldn’t manage.

I felt the playful shove of my shoulder from one of the boys as he grinned and passed me quickly. I blush as I sit down the logs in the pile made. Older boy, by three years. 17, he was. I saw him around a lot, sometimes he would come and talk to me, ask me about how I used to live, or if I’d be joining him in some of the other's chores. Brunette with green eyes and a sweet apple-picked smile. His teeth were almost perfect, one back with a slight outward angle. He towered over me most times, but talked sweetly, sometimes pulling me to his chest when no one was around. Husten, or hue for short, was his name. He called me Pinky or Doll, he said it was because I always worked with the girls and I was smaller than him.

He’d brush my hair with his hands, playing with it, but listen to my ramble on about something stupid. He’d play with his foot under tables during supper, or bump my knee with his. He said his love language was physical contact. I remember, once I had a nightmare and wandered out at night where he was finishing up putting wood in the fire. He brought me back to his tent, where his father was out on watch. He had my head to his chest, rubbing my scalp and humming an old melody my mother used to sing. He rubbed my back until I fell asleep.

We always got along. It made me feel bubbly inside. However, I ignored this fact and went on with my chores. It started to get dark, and now the fire and a few lights lit up the trees as the boys finished up. I plucked up the last bit of logs as I stared at Hue, he was talking to some of the others. This caused me to trip over my feet and land in the mud.

I heard laughter and a huge huff behind me as I lifted myself. The wood under me left my hands scraped and rugged. I hissed and looked at them as I was pulled up by my shirt collar. “Boy, you have annoyed me for the last goddamn time.” He said, gripping the sides of my arms. He then looked behind me and smiled. “Go get the rest, out past the orange line.” He said, pointing over to a spot that had been spray-painted. Danger at night. That is what it meant. The watchers could not see in specific spots at night and marked them not to go near at night and not to stray away from camp. You were only allowed over there if it was early morning and the watchers already checked the area.

“Bert, it's not safe-” Hue tried to reason with the men, glancing at me. Bert interrupted him, shoving me back. “He has to be a man someday,” Bert stated, crossing his arms. “Now, go on boy, go get it.”

I gulped and looked over to the darkness that clouded the trees. I gulped and looked back at him, other boys were smiling, grinning at my frozen state. It’s like they were waiting for my downfall. I breathed in, and out.

Carl stared at the body on the bed as monitors were giving the occasional beep. It had been a couple of days since the night. He sat close, sometimes going out of the walls for supplies or with his dad. Iris was also here a lot. She traveled back from Alexandria, conversating with Carl. Though, she said multiple times she wasn’t feeling it, standing around, waiting for the monitors to lead the beep on. Carl played with his hands, he’d open the blinds and let the sun pour into the room. His heart ran at times, wondering as he would space out for half hours and wonder. He left a stack of his comics on the bedside table to read when bored, but he never really had the thought to.

(Two days ago)

Carol came out of the medical building and cleaned her hands. “The boy is fine. We needed to open the cut again. He stopped the bleeding, but the wound was still internal. We stitched him back up..” She paused, sighing as she looked at the group. “Kid knows what he’s doing, that was only meant to stop the bleeding until he could get attention. I’m honestly surprised he’s not dead… and Not to accuse anyone, but they should have known this was going to happen.”

Rick, hands on hips and in thought, nodded. He rubbed his chin. “I… he’s only two years older than Carl, He saved Carl. That kid is different from his father and people need to see that.”

Rick was out in a few hours, looking for supply with Carl. They stopped at a gas station not too far along. Rick had a plan going along by now, Carl helped for the past two weeks, watching the plan form, and also understanding others were at war.

“I’m glad he’s slept through most of this.” Said Rick, looking at Carl. Carl looked up at the sudden talk with a confused gaze. “He’s his father's son… but he’s got some different traits. Good traits.” He said, tilting his head as he looked at Carl. Carl only nodded. “Listen… He’ll be fine, He’ll be awake before you know it. The boy needs his rest." Silence bore into the conversation as Carl kicked a rock around.

"How?" Carl’s eyebrows furrowed, refusing to look back up at his father's eyes. “How bad was it?” He whispered, looking at Rick's feet. Rick shook his head.

“Not the worst, but not the best. He could have died, honestly…” Rick heard Carl’s breath hitch. “Carol said he should be fine, it might take a while to fully recover.”

I felt the slight wind knock against my skin, allowing me to shiver. The leaves crunched under my nervous foot as I passed the lined grass and into the seething darkness that captured me. I reached my destination. People behind me clapped as I picked up the last two logs. Heavy they were, as I turned on my feet and started to head back.

As expected, the gurgling made me pause and freeze in my spot. I stared into pitch-black darkness. Nothing. I looked over at the group as Bert yelled at me to “hurry my ass up”. I gulped and started walking once again. I continued. I was at the fire that was near the butcher tent and orange line when a branch snapped to my right, and, in a split second, I hit a grill and fell onto the ground.

I could hear myself scream, having my clothed arm in its mouth, tearing at the leather. Its hands tried to reach my face. I felt the heat rise in my face, though I couldn’t tell if it was the situation I was in or the gigantic fire behind the biter.

It was pulled off me in a matter of seconds. I rolled onto my stomach, the world spinning as I looked beside me. My eyes widened. Hue stood beside my lying body, a knife in hand as three biters crowded over him. Bert and the others were focused on the fire that was spreading rapidly. One lurched onto him, and he was able to kill that one, but the other was able to bite into his forearm, ripping out a chunk of skin. The third gripped his arm and bit into his neck, both causing a scream as he pulled it off. He kicked the third away, killing the second.

I stared at him as he turned, holding his arm as blood started to flow out. “I-I… I-” I felt tears overflow my eyes as I stared at him. My hands gripped the dirt. He dropped his knife and fell to the ground in a sitting position as he stared at me. I was able to crawl over to him quickly, staring at him with wide eyes. He examined his arm, which continued to bleed out. He didn’t have long.

“I… I like you, kid.” He said, with a smile, pain in his eyes. He breathed heavily. "You can’t be weak in this world… you’ll die just like me. Just like… I’m not built for this world.” He said. I shook my head and he only nodded, placing his bloodied hand on my face. I quickly held his bleeding forearm and he laughed, pressing his lips to mine, with little energy. “Run.” He whispered, falling against the tree he leaned on. I shook my head as I saw his eyes start to wave open and close. I heard him breathe in deep and shallowly, before letting his chest fall one last time. His eyes stared at me, keeping them open as I started to cry, shaking his shoulders.

“Wake- wake up!” I called him, his head falling. I gripped his sleeves, feeling my upper body start to fall and my forehead pressed against his knees as I sobbed.

Gripping hands threw me to the side and onto a tree. My pleas were unheard as Bert’s angry hands went to my face and threw me into the mud. The cutting started. Blood spilled down my arms. People ignored me, seeing me as a threat as he cut me up. I felt wasted, as blood rushed from my body slowly. My head was shoved into the dirt, and the fire was unsaveable.

People were rushing things away, trying to keep the fire from spreading further into the camp.

Everything was just a ringing tone in my ear. I felt the pain spread, and Bert's hands wandered as I lay helplessly on the ground. People refused to look at it, blaming the event on me, and letting me be cruelly punished. He would say things like, “You wanted all this attention, I’ll give it to you” or “I’ll get one last thing out of you before you die.”

I felt tears welded into my eyes. My hands gripped the mud as he yanked off my clothes. What was I to do, weak, cut, and close to naked where nobody heard my cry for help, not even allowing a glance?

I remember his words. Run. I should have. I should have listened to Hue, he warned me. Like he said, you can’t be weak in this world.

Screaming. Not mine. I looked up, not moving my head. His face was ripped apart to where I could see his skull. Scared, I tried crawling away, but his grip stayed on me, not letting me go. I tried pushing away from him.

It wasn’t until someone pulled him off of me that I was able to get was, sobbing for the other to leave me alone. I was yanked up. “Hey, boy.” My dad said, looking over me. He yanked me to his chest, looking at the two dead. I saw. The biter ripped his face off, Hue. Dead. That made me cry harder as I stared at him. Everything started spinning.

Replay.

Chapter 9

#carl grimes #carl grimes x male reader #twd #the walking dead #twd x you #carl grimes x reader #male reader #twd x reader #negans son #negan #rick grimes #twd carl #carol peletier #daryl dixon #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl

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little-reader · 1 year ago

Text

"The Son of A Monster." Ch. 7

Masterlist

Warnings; Graphic Gore, Death, blood, Slow-burn, Sexual tension, Gay awakening (For both), Cursing, Negan is the Readers dad, Enemies to lovers story. Fighting. Zombie Apocalypse.

I was more than pissed when I found out what happened under my nose. He played me and kept me away from the group so they could go against the rules. I sharpened my knife, hearing the metal scrape against each other. I left my bat at the Grime’s home. It was thing after thing. I messed up too much. I was messy. I was never, ever messy, not like this, I haven’t been in a while. They're gonna throw me off the job. He’ll kick me down a level. Damn, damn… “Damint!” I shouted, throwing my knife at the wall in a quick motion. I felt my chest heave. My fingers twitched in their gloves, and the river ran down my face as I felt my eyes sting.

Crying. I was… crying. I got up, and walked into my bathroom, looking at myself in the mirror. What am I? Was I mean? Cruel? Or had I finally changed? I wasn’t allowed to change. My mind ran with thoughts as I stared at myself in the mirror. It was like I was breaking down for No. Damn. Reason. And after all these years? This is the time?

I wiped my face quickly. But they kept coming until I was looking at myself sobbing. Disappointment. That was the look he gave me. “Fuck.” I ran my hands down my face, they left a mark. I turned the handles and let the water spill into the sink as I slashed my face.

I took a quick breath in, then out. I was aiming to calm myself down.

I ended up on my bed. Staring at the ceiling as my TV buzzed in the background. I sighed and closed my eyes. Knowing tomorrow can’t wait.

The cars shook my body. It was like the first time I came here. With a rifle in my hand, and a pistol in my belt. I sighed, cracking my neck as I looked out the window. I wasn’t allowed to bring my bike. My dad told me, “It’s punishment.” and left it at that. The silence was too quiet. It gave the atmosphere a slightly awkward tone. I didn’t sleep much; you could see it in my eyes. The redness from crying showed from a mile away. Though, he said nothing and barely spared me a glance.

I could feel the drowsiness go through my body as time skipped and we were already here. I was standing in front of the car, staring at the walls. I wasn’t sure what he had planned, but I would only have to see. I sighed. Waiting for this to just pass by. A coffin was beside him, Negan, and so was Eugene as Rick stood at the top of the gate with a gun to his head by a woman. It wasn’t the right Grimes. Not the one I wanted to see at least. I sighed at my thoughts. I dug my foot into the ground.

Finally, I see Carl lift his head about the gate, string at the coffin as Negan talks. I raised interest. I look over, finally tuning into what he is saying. “-and not killing all of you, could get complicated.” More people from the top gate started rising. Guns to their head. I felt my heart flutter with anxiety. Negan pointed at Rick for just a second and kept going. “See, I know there's a lot of firepower left in there, Rick.” He took a quick pause as Carl glanced at me, his eyes narrowing at my state as I clenched my jaw and looked at my boots. “So imma make this simple. I want all the guns you’ve managed to scrape up…yup, I know about those too. I want every last grain of lemonade you’ve got left, I want a person of Your own choosing.” I watched him point to his bat and flick his eyebrows. “For Lucille.” I was tuned back out, as I looked over the people. He started to talk to Daryl, the man that got out. He flicked his bat around and motioned me closer.

“C’mon rick… Just because I brought her in a casket, doesn’t mean she has to live in it.” I stepped up, placing down my rifle. He sighed and rubbed his eyebrows. “You know what.” He called, looking up at Rick. I could tell he was getting frustrated. “You suck ass, Rick, You really do. I don’t wanna have to kill her, but that's exactly what your gonna make me do.”

“Let me see her,” Rick spoke up, hands on his hips. I Peered up, looking at Rick, then Carl. Carl looked pissed but had no fear whatsoever in his eyes. \\

Negan smiled and laughed. “Alright. Just gimmie a second. I might have to get her up to speed, can’t hear shit inside this thing.” He grinned, before motioning for me to pull it open. I grabbed onto the rim as he tapped twice with his bat. I started to open it. “Sash, you're not gonna believe this crap.”

“Holy, godamn.” I what I heard as my dad fell off of the truck, with Sasha, who’s dead and now a biter, on him. My eyes widened as gunshots went off. Carl started shooting. Then when Daryl and the rest of them. I felt one whiz by me as I climbed down and covered my head, I grabbed my pistol, but there were no openings to where I could peer out and shoot.

“Fuck.” I cursed. Some of the shooting calmed down but continued as I crawled over to the edge of the truck. I was able to run over to the car that was at the gate of Alexandria. I could hear screaming. It was either my dad or one of his men.

The shooting hadn’t stopped. My eyes started to ring as moved in, shooting a few of them down. I was able to hide behind a brick wall for a while. Checking myself for any bullet wounds. My adrenaline was high enough to not feel it.

Another mistake. I felt the barrel of a gun press against my head. “Drop it.” I wasn’t sure who it was, but it wasn’t one of us. I slowly slid my gun to the ground. There was no more shooting that I could hear. I Felt my gun belt be flicked off of my hips, and my pistol be thrown. I could move. But that could cost me my life. I closed my eyes and breathed in and out.

I felt my head hit the ground sharply, the rocks dug into the side of my face, and I could almost feel my skin ripping. I groaned and closed my eyes again. “You're gonna pay for what they did to us. You're his stupid son.” The man sounded hesitant as I gave him a side look. “Maybe he’ll stop when you're dead.” That made me laugh. “What, you're about to die, and you're laughing. Fuckin’ psycho, just like you Dad.” I sigh and my laughing comes to a stop.

“Who the Fuck says I’m dyin’?” I stated, grinning at him. The butt of the gun hit my shoulder, making me groan.

“Me, you gonna die, for them, fo-” I interrupted him. “Alexandria, blah fucking blah. Do you think you're the only dumbass to tell me this? You think you're the only man I’ve killed?” He looked confused as I smiled. He was pulled down in a matter of a second. My hand had a firm grasp on his ankle as I pulled him over. His gun was knocked behind him when he fell. I quickly grabbed the knife hidden in my pants and stabbed it into his ankle.

I heard his scream as he looked down at his leg, and groaned. I pushed myself off slowly as he started to crawl for the gun. I huff, and pull him closer, now climbing up on him. I lifted my knife and went for his head.

He grabbed my arms, one of his hands going for the knife as I started to push down. I barred down, my teeth grinding together. Shit. Shit... SHIT. This could be where it ends for me. I could be dead. A Seventeen-year-old vs. a man. I was shoved off of him, his strength overpowering mine. I flipped over, screaming as I fell onto the knife I held in my hand. I plunged through my side. I groan loudly, and that turns into a scream. I felt tears run down my face as I stared at the knife. Blood started to gush out from around the knife as I tried to control my breathing.

It wasn’t too bad. Was it? I don’t think it pierced any arteries. Get the fuck up. I felt everything go in slow motion. Things started to move slowly as I tried to look around.

“Where is y/n?” Negan asked, already having Carl on his knees. Rick was approaching, with Judis, her gun to his head. Negan motioned to right beside Carl.

“Hello again.” He said, standing behind Dwight Rick held his side as Judis told him to get down. “Well, shit rick.” You could still hear a few shots going off. “You just couldn’t stick with us, huh... You had to go with these… Filthy garbage people.” He paused and looked at Judi's. “No offense.

“Deal is for twelve, yes?” Judis asked.

“Ten… People are a resource.”

“Twelve.” It was more of a whisper when she said it. Negan sharply stared at her and she gave up. “Ten.” She backed away from him. Negan smiled and chucked, then looked straight at Rick and sighed. “Rick… This is just gonna make you sad. Broken. Your gonna wish you were dead.” He sighed, walking around them. “I like having fun, I do. But maybe you think that the guy that did what he did to your friends wasn’t me.” He looked at them, disappointment was clear in his features. “Like that was some sort of a put-on, Like I’m not the guy with the bat, I’m just the guy that makes your kid spaghetti!” He raised his voice, tilting his body as Rick shifted his seat.

Rick looked at him, there wasn’t much to say. “Oh, h shit.” He paused, dramatically touching his brow. “Maybe this is on me, maybe this is all on me.” He laughed a bit. “I gotta make it right. I guess I gotta start ALL over again.” He gave a slight gesture to Carl, who looked at him through his hat... “Now my son… I would want him to be just like your son... They're like the same person… Which makes this, so much harder.”

That's when Carl spoke up. “You're not gonna win.” He glared at negan.

“Carl.. It is over.” Negan said, leaning forward slightly, “Why don’t you point your one ball down the street there, and take it all in.” He said, motioning to the blank street. There was a scream from a building like someone was thrown off of it.

Get the fuck up. Get the fuck up.

I screamed as the fire grew around me the camp started to grow with flames, some attaching to the trees. “I’m sorry.” I pleaded as I was shoved into a tree. “I-I didn’t mean to, I swear. Please-” The back of a hand hit my cheek, leaving a burn, I fell face-first into the mud as people tried to put out the fire.

“Little Shit! Look at what you fucking done now! Always with you.” I was kicked as I screamed in pain. “Always whining to your daddy about someone or something. You goddamn baby.” Another hit. I felt Bert climb onto me. I felt a knife slice through my shirt and dig into my skin as I cried for help. People only spared glances my way. I tried pushing him away but his knife slit down my arm. “After I'm done slicing you up, I’ll leave you for the biters, tell yer daddy you ran off and found ya dead.” Another cut.

I slightly opened my eyes, and the knife was plunged into my stomach as someone was on my hips. My mind started to replay. The pain. Bert. The fire. And the goddamn knife that threatened to go into my skull. I felt pain as I ripped out the knife in my stomach and plunged it into his neck. Blood started to spray out of his neck and all over me as he fell over, blood choking him and spilling out of his mouth. I held my side and heaved.

I left a handprint on the side house I was at. I made my way inside and into the bathroom before raiding their towels and alcohol. I made it to the kitchen, holding my would with a towel as I searched through the drawers. I put a knife over a lighter until the metal turned red. The knife didn't hit anything too bad. I lifted my shirt as I placed another towel in my mouth and breathed in and out. I shouted through the towel and closed my eyes tightly, before throwing the knife to the other side of the room and gripping my side. I poured the alcohol over it and wrapped a bandage over my side. I took out the towel and sighed, keeping my hand on my side.

To any normal person, I looked insane. Blood covered my face, and hair, and stained my clothes. I was clutching my side slightly, letting the pain subdue from the pain medication I took. I chugged water before pushing myself off of the counter and made my way out of the home. Where am I going? Dead bodies were scattered everywhere with blood dripping from them. There were a few people on their knees, with my people looking down at them. I looked like death as I approached them. “Hey,” I called out, they looked over, and their eyes widened a little. ”My dad alive?” I asked.

“Yeah… uh, he’s in that direction.” One of them pointed and I only nodded, making my way there, a little slower than I would have liked. “Damn… one strong fuckin’ kid.”

As I approached, I could see my dad from a distance. I heard a scream from a building, and I looked over quickly. Someone fell off. “Goddamn,” I mutter and continued. I got quite a few stares, from all sides of the damn feud. Including Carl, who furrowed his eyes at me, ignoring what Negan was saying.

My dad raised his bat as I was a few steps away from him. “Dad, what the hell,” I yelled, making him stop as he was about to swing. “ Dad, stop, please.” I heard him say and motion with his fingers.

“Sorry kid, Punishment has to be in order.” He raised the bat again.

“Dad no. Please, he’s only fifteen, he’s younger than me.” I shouted, trying to pull myself out of the man's grip. “You fucking dick, I fuckin’ hate you” I cried out, my face now turned into an aggressive snarl. He goes to swing. A roar sounded behind him as I fucking tiger sprang out and grabbed one of Negan’s men. The men grabbed me and let me go in shock as people started to come out behind the house with guns, shooting their way through. The screaming from the guy was loud and my ears began to ring. Loud. My eyes became blurry. Shit. It wasn’t supposed to go down like this.

I could hear yelling, both pain and hardship. I looked around. It was all slow motion again. Just like before. I was shutting down again. It was just too much. The two men beside me were dead. I didn’t bother sparing a glance their way. My dad managed to get cover. My eyes moved around the scene as I covered my ears. Will I die here? Where's Iris? Who are these people> It's all falling apart. Just like home. Just like Bert's camp and that stupid fucking pot. Why couldn’t I spot it from the beginning? How did he do it? It’s my fucking fault, it's always my fault. If I just did my job right and stopped being a goddamn kid, this would have happened. If I could just lock my feelings away... If…

I felt numb. I lay there on the ground, with my hands on my ears and staring at the sky. “Why is it always my fault?” I whispered to myself. I feel myself almost sobbing as I grip my ears. I felt my body ache as I tuned out the screaming and sun whizzing by my head as I stood. People pushed past me as I made it to a gun on the ground. I cocked it and rubbed my thumb over the handle. “I’m not built for this world.”

I placed the gun to my chest. The front touched my chest, where my heart lay. My thumb stayed on the trigger as I looked down at it. It pushed into my clothes. I sighed, turning the gun sharply and shooting. One of His men. One after another, I took them out. Watching the look of betrayal on their faces.

“God damn assholes,” I muttered.

I saw him. It wasn’t that hard. Carl had a rifle in hand, shooting at Negan's men like he wasn’t about to die. What I also saw. My dad drove off with his middle finger out. Motherfucker.

“They retreated,” Rick said, looking at his group. They searched the area in a matter of seconds.

“Hey, Rick.” The group turned to see Carl with one of Negan's men, his arm wrapped around Carl's head. “This is for Negan.” He cocked his Gun,

I limped around, I saw him leave, most people were at the gate. I could feel the burn in my side and the ache of my body. I cracked my neck. A man was standing in the middle of the road. Carl's hat was in the grass, where I stood, beside the road. I grabbed the hat, running my hand over it. Blood splatters caked the leather and gold print. I looked over. Carl. With one of Negan’s men. Grimy asshole. I cocked my gun.

“This is for Negan-” A shot rang. The man's brains were blown in a matter of seconds and Carl stood in shock. Wondering if he were dead or not. My hair was thrown over my eyes as they pointed their guns at me. I stared at Carl, my gun smoked from its rim as it still pointed at the man on the ground. His blood sprayed on the concrete and his brains spilled from his head. Something I’ve seen often.

“Fuck. Negan.” I started as I kept my hand on my stomach. I felt the sharp pain from my side as my adrenaline started to fade away. “And fuck you all,” I pointed the gun around at the group, then at Carl. I was coughing slightly. My stomach was turning into a building pain as I flinched. Carl looked… worried, possibly, and pissed. “You're a little shit.” I pointed at him. I held three fingers up. “You almost died three fuckin’ times. Three.” I said, heaving in the air. I blink at him. People looked confused. They weren’t sure what I was gonna do. Their guns stayed trained on me. God, my heart hurts. My head hurt, damn, my everything hurt. He was okay. A few scratches though, on his arms where his flannel was rolled up to his elbows. His eyes held wonders that bloomed in between the lines and colors.

“You look like you’ve done the same.” He says, basically a whisper. He gave me a good look over, mainly staring at my hand that covered a blood-stained patch. I wouldn’t be able to stand for much longer, It already felt as though I was gonna slip. I looked at his hat in my hand, and I tipped over to him. I placed it on his head.

“I think I’m… I…” I paused as I looked down at him. “You… just.” I sighed, dropping my gun. I placed my hand on his cheeks and rubbed them. They were soft under my hard calluses, giving a soft tone to the rest of his face which was scattered with freckles and thin strands of hair. “Why can’t I just…” I couldn’t spit out the damn word to save my life. It felt like the words I wanted to say were choking me, leaving me with little breath and tears. “I just want you,” I whisper, my face has a saddened look. I ran my finger down to his jaw and watched his eyes. They bore into mine as I tilt my head. His hands were now on my wrists. I dipped my head down and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. I felt his hair cover the tips of my fingers as I cupped his jaw. It was then, Rick motioned for the guns to be lowered, seeing no threat. “Fucking.. Woody.” I mumble, pushing myself away from him as I feel my body start to slip in and out of reality.

I was five years old. My mother grasped my hand as we walked around the river in the woods. I looked up at her with a gleaming smile in my eyes.

I was six when I hit the first ball my dad threw at me, he lifted me onto his shoulders and started dancing around.

I was Seven when I built a baseball bat out of Marconi for my dad, with help from my mother's gentle hands.

I was eight when I entered my first baseball game. My team didn’t win, but I was still given ice cream that day. My dad and mom gave me their cherries.

I was nine when I and my mother started walking to the beach every morning.

I was ten when I ran my first home run. My teammates lifted me into the sky as my dad clapped.

I was eleven when I started making comics for my mom.

I was twelve when I played family games after supper. They let me win sometimes.

I was thirteen when my dad was in a Jail cell, I had to quit baseball.

I was fourteen when…things fell apart.

I was fifteen when I watched my dad turn into someone else. He killed Bert.

I was sixteen when I saw him kill over and over.

I was seventeen… I am seventeen.

I cough a little before opening my eyes. The room felt bright. My eyes strained. I felt empty. I looked around the room, as my eyes adjusted to the lighting. The same room where I had met Carl. The reason I had to look after him. I groaned and Held my head with my eyes now closed. It pounded lightly, I could feel the pulse on my temple as I rubbed them. My memories guided me through how I got here. A few flashes as I tried to remember what happened after I passed out.

“Shit,” I mumbled, my voice barely working as I sat up. I pushed myself into a sitting position, where my back slid against the back of the bed, but comfortable enough to where I wasn’t in pain. My wound was wrapped nicely, treated, and hadn't caused as much pain as my head. A water bottle stood short on my stand as I grabbed it and chugged, feeling some water slip down my cheeks. I wiped it with my cheeks and breathed slowly.

I must have not been passed out long, considering I could still stand and move my legs. I was wearing a stupid blue gown and boxers underneath. The room was awkwardly silent and I could hear my every footstep as I tried to look for new clothes. I found some jeans, mine, in some drawers and yanked off the gown before slipping them on. My body was bandaged, and treated as I moved the IV out of my arm and removed the pulse thing off my finger. I forgot the name.

I started to look around, in drawers, counters, the office they had placed there. Until I finally found a gun. It was loaded and ready. I heard footsteps outside the office. They panicking voices.

“He's not here?”

“What the hell do ya’ mean he's not here? Rick told you to have eyes in here at all times.” A gruff voice said to the other panicked man. Daryl and Toby. If I wasn't wrong. “Check the office, I'll check outside.” I heard him huff and a door shut as I stood behind the door. I could hear the beat of my heart as Toby checked the other office first. He didn't look for long, or wait to see if anyone was in there. My best guess is he must have thought I left. I wasn't stupid enough to leave without a weapon or clothes. I watched his shadow go under the door before he pushed it open more. I flattened myself against the wall, still hidden behind the door, as he came into the room. He was in front of me with his back turned. I had the very thought to hit him there and then as he checked behind the desk.

I had the gun pointed at him the moment our eyes made contact. His eyes widened slightly, his eyebrows raised with them, as I stared with a glare. Did I want to shoot him? No. Would I have to? Most likely not. But will I? Yes, absolutely. I’m positive he knew that, the way his arms waved, showing his hands, and the sweat that formed from his hairline. He’s seen what I could do and tried to form himself to not be a threat.

“Hey, kid.” He said, letting out a breath he must have been holding in. I hadn’t dared to speak back to the other man. I already know my voice was torn out of me, and I would sound like shit if I did. Or maybe the water helped. Still, I wouldn’t look weak in front of someone I didn’t trust, and neither would I let my guard down.

I had a great grip on the handle of my gun, staring at the man. “We're not gonna hurt you. I don’t think we would after saving you, now would we?” I continued to stare as He moved slowly to the door and near to me. He tried to grab the gun, but I moved it and shot at the wall. His eyes widened as he moved quickly out of my perspective and out of the room. His foot slipped over the gown I left on the floor, and he fell on his ass, staring at me with his hand out.

The door opened, and people came in with concerned and spiritful looks. I stood, across from them, with a gun pointed straight at Toby. My heart raced. Was I supposed to be in chains after waking? I should be after this. Negan's son. Their monster, their destroyer, and the one they ought to have killed. I was the son of that. My dad.

My jaw clenched.

“Boy.” Rick the prick. As my dad loved to call him. Rhymes, and makes sense. I didn’t dare look at the man, for now, he had the power I lost. I was nothing here, and my dad would soon be nothing. Would I now make myself like their Monster? Would I fight against them, or with them? Either way, I betray someone I’m close to from either side. My eyes burn into Toby’s forehead. The spot I could shoot at the point. “Put it down, “ He said, rather calmly. I could hear whispers among the group, two of them leaving the room, Aaron and Tara. There leaves Rick, Daryl… and Maggie? Yes, that’s her name. The dead widow who’s not actually dead. Another reminder of my failure.

Rick tried to step closer but I gripped the gun handle and he stopped. Footsteps shifted, eyes burned into my head. “He ain’t gonna put it down.” Says Maggie, who looked at me with a burning look. If looks could kill, I’d be dead in a matter of seconds. She pointed to me. “Why don’t we… why hadn’t we just let him die on the pavement… things I’ve heard, what that kid has done, he’s just like his father.” She whispered as if the dead room would cover her words.

Exactly. The things I’ve done, killed in cold blood. It wasn’t something I could just walk away from. What could I do in the mad situation? Die by Rick Grimes, by them, or myself? Or what, run back to Daddy? Like I hadn’t killed my own men? Or cursed him and his dumbass bat that he named after my mother. We both were broken men. Or is he dead, like I should be? How many days has it been since the fight? How many days has it been since I killed my own men, or lost the power I was afraid to lose, or when shall I die by these people? How many days has it been since she died and he became a shadow of a man? A cone in a deep world.

I wasn’t sure how long I stood with the gun pointed, or how long they whispered and spoke to me, trying to get the gun away from the man on the ground. But it must have been a small while.

Aaron and Tara came in, both looked out of breath. I continued to point and wait for another to shoot at me. It never came.

“What going… oh..” The familiar voice had me shifting my eyes for the first time. I gave a harsh glare to the group.

Speaking was now, or never. “You…” I pause and cough, letting my voice loosen slightly. “Think I would put this damn gun down because he’s in here?” I question, tilting my head slightly. Carl looked confused slightly, he was analyzing his surroundings, letting himself play out the situation. I grip the gun harder.

Rick looked at Carl, obviously not knowing what exactly to do in this situation. Maggie started to whisper this time, I couldn’t make out any words, but the expression on Carl's face told me everything.

“No,” Carl said blatantly. “I… only if he shoots. He won’t.” He sounded sure of himself as he stared at the two. Our eyes connected, his look, pissed and confused with his furrowed eyebrows. I watched his foot move slowly, Rick moved out his hand and shook his head, but Carl only pushed his arm away, staring straight my way. I felt a hand rest on my wrist and I flinched, moving it slightly away but keeping it trained on Toby as he started to stand, slowly.

Carl grabbed the top of the gun and slowly slid it out of my hands, before emptying the gun. He looks confused. “There were no bullets?” He asked, looking at his dad and back to me. I huffed and reached into my pocket, pulling out the shells and letting them drop to the ground.

“So?” Daryl said, squinting at me. “Kids dangerous. We all can agree on that-” Rick interrupts him. “We’ll discuss this somewhere else… but he’s right. You can’t be allowed by yourself.” He states, looking at me with hands on his hips. “Looks like you rested up, and you can walk… I’ll have you back in my house, under my supervision.” He points at the two of us. “That means you stay inside at all times, I’ll have another bed to move in Carl's room. We’ll talk later tonight.” His last sentence was pointed at Carl as he waved his people out of the room.

---- Chapter 8 ----

A lot happens in this chapter. I haven't read over it, but I will soon, so excuse the mistakes, they will be fixed later on. Any questions, please ask.

#carl grimes #carl grimes x male reader #the walking dead #carl grimes x reader #male reader #twd x reader #twd #negan #twd x you #negans son

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little-reader · 1 year ago

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"The Son of A Monster." Valentines Special. MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS

Masterlist

Carl Grimes / Male Reader.

I breathe in the air. It's fresh as the apples, and brisk as the wind blows by. “Daddy.” Huffed a small child, standing next to his twin. Identical. The boy stomped his foot and crossed his arms, cute and angry, while his brother stood quietly with flowers in his hand.

“What,” I said, with the same whining as I picked flowers in a field, near home. The morning was fresh, and yet to fully rise when we had begun to pick. I planned this all the night before, perfectly to where it did not interfere with schedules. A day off from riding to Alexandria to get kids to school, and farming hadn’t started till noon.

“Don’t wanna do this! It's boring.” The boy, Isahe, said, stomping his foot once again. I raised an eyebrow, looking at the flowers he had in hand before bending down.

“Now, now. You know the rules, you only use that voice when…?” I waited for the answer, looking at the angry boy.

He rolled his eyes slightly. “When I see someone or something that can put me in danger.” He repeated. Something I had taught regularly, and classes taught. Growing up in a world like this is absolute hell. I smile at Isahe, ruffling his hair and kissing his forehead.

“You know why we're doin’ this. Pa will be sad he didn’t get any flowers from one of his favorite boys.” I pinch his cheek, his expression changes as he considers this. “I don’t think he’d want flowers from just Daddy and Rome,” I stated, pushing his hair out of his face. He hummed and pushed my arm away as Rome showed me the flowers he had picked.

I wave the carriage off as the two twins smile and they leave off the road. Two gunmen with them, trusted men of course. I sighed as I unlocked the wall and secured it behind me. A house stood tall, with a porch with garden supplies. A garden with a wired fence stood at the side and toys were scattered around. I unlocked the front door, carrying a basket with food and flowers, and walked inside, making sure to lock the door behind me. The home was quiet as I set down the basket. I uncovered the living room windows and opened the curtains, allowing natural light to pass through.

I left into the kitchen before grabbing a knife, cutting board, bowls, and a pan. Days like these weren’t really celebrated. Not that this day mattered to most starving and scared people. But how I was living now? I wanted it to last, and have the kids with a childhood and imagination that goes on for miles. I collected books, comics, and children's books for the small library in a spare room. The house was two-story, with a thick stone wall surrounding it. The wall had plenty to keep us safe. Cameras, trip wires, traps, anything to keep something bad out. Anything to keep them safe. The garden was big enough to preserve food for winter, and still eat in the summer and spring. The fence kept rabbits, mice, or anything that could fly out.

We had a shed in the back of the house that looked like an old gardening shed but could be turned into a weapon shed in a matter of seconds. The doors in the house had been made to keep things in or out if locked. I didn’t want anything bad to happen, and if anything went wrong, I had a plan to make sure it wouldn’t

I sighed, closing my eyes after cutting the food and placing it into bowls. I grabbed an extra bowl and grabbed some eggs from the refrigerator. Trade was a good thing in handy.

I could smell the egg drafting around the house as I started making an omelet, which turned out good. The green pepper, tomato, and onion made the food blow with taste as I placed it on a plate and poured fresh lemonade. The food and drinks were placed on a board and I slowly carried it to the top of the stairs and opened a door with the push of my foot. I sat down on the board on a nightstand and took off my shoes and jeans before pushing back the duvet and, carefully, making myself comfortable.

I look at the sleeping man beside me. His hair covered his face and his back turned to me. I lean down and kiss his bare shoulder before pushing his hair away. His eyepatch lay on the nightstand, leaving his scar to show as I kiss behind his ear and wrap my arms around him.

I hear him groan as He pushes his head to the side and deeper into his pillow. “Hey,” I said, rubbing his bare chest as I rested my forehead on his shoulder. I heard him hum as He stretched his legs and arms. ‘Kids are gone, Aaron picked them up.” I whispered, kissing his back. He hummed again and whined as he stretched his back and turned. I took my forehead off of his shoulder, feeling him turning in my arms.

“What time is it?” He asked, now looking at me. I could see the tiredness in his eyes.

“Doesn’t matter. We don’t gotta go until late noon.” I said, pushing my hand through his hair. It needed another trim, but it was fine. “Hairs getting long again. Gonna keep it like old times, or cut it again?” I said, playing with a strand. He shrugs, his eye shutting again as he licked his lips. “Hungry?” I whisper and he nods slightly. I smile and lift myself up. “Good, 'cause’ I brought you some food to eat,” I said as he stretched again and sat up on his elbows.

“What... why?” He asks, rubbing his eyes, and starting to wake up. I smile and look at him.

“The kid picked you some flowers, though he didn’t want to,” I say, I hear him laugh as I place the board on his lap. “Happy Valentine's Day.”

#carl grimes #carl grimes x male reader #negan #the walking dead #twd #twd x reader #twd x you #male reader #carl grimes x reader #negans son

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little-reader · 1 year ago

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"Life Is Too Short for Real Love." Character Analysis - Story Coming Soon.

He was born in 1865, in western America. His mother and father raised him until their death. He grew up middle class, abused by his father to be the perfect man. He turned into a timid man, gentle and quiet. In 1978 he met a girl around his neighborhood, her name was Harriet. In 1882, they got married and had their first child.

He met Dutch in 1884 when his wife owed money to Stratus without telling him. Dutch gave him a choice since he had no money. Come with him, or they’ll take everything. His wife told him to go, and so he did. He had already had three kids. Jamie, the oldest boy, Joslen, the oldest girl, and Joseph, the youngest boy.

His wife wanted a divorce after three years of working with the Dutch and not leaving, also she found out about him killing men.

After being in the group for so long, they were like brothers. He was known as “frostbite” around the camp because he went from warm to cold in a matter of years. Because of the nickname, that is what was on his wanted poster. He wore a mask at all times when out with the group, not wanting any trouble with the law and family.

He is a bisexual character. He is known for sleeping around, sometimes on camp, and also wanted for sodomy in different parts of the new world.

Even when he’s one of the coldest people on camp, he still cares about his family deeply, even if they aren’t blood-related. In his records, there is only one record of him sparing a lawman, only because he was a young boy.

He’s slightly addicted to being an ass at times. Sarcastic mostly. He can also get very violent if someone in the camp is threatened. He is known as the cruelest member of the Vanderlinde group, his bounty is $10,000 for not only being in the Dutch’s group, because he went on a law-killing rampage in 1889 and 1894, and for a few other… violent reasons. He doesn’t like to talk about a few events that happened in those years.

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little-reader · 1 year ago

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"The Son of A Monster." Character Analysis.

"The son of A Monster."

Y/n is Negan Smith's son, who was a high school gym teacher and coach. He grew up playing sports until the outbreak. He took high-earning classes, won medals, and interred school activities.

During the outbreak, Y/n, who was 13 at the time, took care of his mother, feeding her and helping her with her medicine when his dad was out searching. One day, they left together, his first time out, and came back, finding his mother gone. During that time, before he returned, he was captured by a gang, who made his dad give out the people who gave them medicine. When he left from the bar the gang was in, he had multiple cuts and bruises on his body, that later healed into scars.

Y/n watched his father, Negan, grow mad over the years but stuck closely to him. He followed his dad into anything, going for his every command.

They joined into a group once, a bad group. It didn’t end well for him and he ended up in a fight with a group member while his dad was out scouting for food. He was beaten bloody, and other things. He almost died as a result. Because of that night, and the afterevents, he has scarring all over his body. This also caused some mental scarring, he went into a spiral of depression and lack of empathy.

When they took over the sanctuary, he took over 15% of it, Negan told him it was time for Y/n to grow up, even though he was 17 by this time. He watched over the people who earned points. He would be in control of putting them in place, which caused some to die, and some to leave bruises on their face and/or scars on their arms or legs.

Negan wanted his son to be just like him, following in his footsteps. Negan kept him in line by assigning him one wife, trying to get him to marry more, Iris. She looked over him, kept his needs in check, and talked to him.

Iris soon got pregnant, and kept it based on her religion. Because of this, He went up a rank and took over paperwork/planning for missions, outings, and the places Negan took over. He would make sure everything was in place, make sure everything was in line and they had collected right. He would take rides over the places that didn’t give enough, threaten or kill someone, and leave with the right amount or a warning for next time.

To get away from it all, he would put out himself with cigarettes or liquor he found on runs by himself. He also had small places where he hid his things and hung out. Sometimes, he could feel himself slip away from reality for once.

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little-reader · 1 year ago

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Character Analyses.

This is my main story Characters, their personality, life, and information in general. This will help you understand the Character before you start reading and will help you decide if you want to read or not. Please let me know if you need more information about the Characters in certain stories. Thank you.

Stories Posted

"The Son of A Monster." - Carl Grimes / Male reader. (Unfinished)

Coming Soon

"Life Too Short for Real Love." - Rdr2 Characters x Male Reader.

#carl grimes #carl grimes x male reader #negan #twd #twd x reader #the walking dead #twd x you #carl grimes x reader #male reader #negans son #rdr2 x male reader #rdr2 x reader #rdr x reader #rdr2 arthur #rdr2

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little-reader · 1 year ago

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“The Son of A Monster.” Ch.6

Masterlist

Warnings; Death, blood, Slow-burn, Sexual tension, Gay awakening (For both), Cursing, Negan is the Readers dad, Enemies to lovers story. Fighting. Zombie Apocalypse

A plate was set on the table of the dimmed room. Along with a fork and cup of water. I placed a napkin on the table, pulled the curtains down, and lit a candle at the table and in the kitchen. My small hands knocked on the door. “Mama? Foods done.” I called from in the room and opened the door. My mother smiled from her bed as she put her book down and rested the book on her lap.

I smiled and walked over to the bedside, kissing her cheek, and grabbed her bookmark. “Dad not back yet?” She asked as I helped her to the table. I shook my head, helping her sit.

“No… but I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” I said, kissing her cheek once again as we sat and ate. We both joked and ate, recalling a few funny moments. “He wouldn’t talk to me that whole week.” I laughed. My mother started to cough and my laughing faded. I rubbed her shoulder and handed her the cup of water.

“Thank you.” She said, smiling weakly. She rubbed my hair as a rheumatic knock sounded at the door, the door unlocked and open. My dad smiled as he locked the door behind him and smiled. “Hey…” My mother smiled as my dad kissed her lips and forehead. He held a bag in his hands.

“Got a few things.” He held up the bag. “Enough for the next two weeks.” He said, smiling as he kissed my forehead. He put the bag on the counter and took his coat off, placing his shoes at the door. He sat down at the table with us and I pushed my plate to him and he only shook his head and pushed it back. “I’m fine, kid. Eat up.” He ruffled my hair and I smiled as I finished up.

They both went into their bedroom as I cleaned up the dishes. I could hear my dad plead with my mom as I wiped down the plates. I heard a few words “For him”, then “For me, We can find it.” I put the plates up slowly. One still wet, slipped out of my hand and onto the floor. I shattered and scattered.

“What happened?” I heard my dad say as he came in. He looked at the mess. “That was your mom's favorite.” He sighed and I only looked down. “It’s fine, let's get it cleaned up though.” He said, helping pick up the pieces. We finished and he left back into the room.

I blew out the candles until my foot poked into something. I looked down to see a piece of the plate on the ground with flowers on the rim. I picked it up and rubbed my finger on it, placing it in my pocket, and left to my room.

The sun shone brightly as we opened the door in the morning. My dad grabbed his bat and face guard and kissed my mom. I looked up at her and smiled before hugging her. “Negan?” She whispered. “Keep him safe, okay?” She asked, having one of her hands on my cheek and the other on my dad's. He only nodded and kissed her palm. I held onto my backpack tightly and the necklace my mother gave me. My dad had a gun in his front pocket and a hammer in his hand.

He gave me one and told me to keep it close when we went out.

My mother gave us one last kiss before we left.

At times I would think we were gonna die while trying to find the metical trucks. My dad broke his hammer at one point, but always kept me behind him. I slept close to him every night we stayed out of the house. We stayed by a fire one night, quiet, and scared. I started to not sleep some nights. I could hear the groaning as I felt my dad’s breath on my hair as he had me against his chest all night. He would pick me up on his back when I was too tired of walking all day, and sacrifice his food when we couldn’t find any.

Finally, six weeks in, he found the medical trailers. I smiled and started walking but he grabbed my arm and pulled me back. “Stay here, okay, I need you to stay here.” He said, kissing my forehead as he left me behind a tree. I watched from a distance as he pointed an unloaded gun at a man, how a woman hit him with a bat and others helped bring him into the van. I stayed at the tree, terrified as I kept hearing noises from afar.

I looked around as the bushes shook beside me. I held the knife close to my chest as I watched a hand crawl out. My eyes widened as I backed away from the bloodied hand. It came out of the bushes in seconds towering over me as I screamed and cried.

I felt blood hit my face as the biter was on the ground in seconds. I swallowed my spit as I peered at the woman above me.

I watched my dad from my seat as they checked me for any bites. “How old are you?” One of the men asked. I looked at him, shy, as he cleaned the blood off my face and moved to a cut on my arm.

“Twelve, sir,” I said quietly, looking at my knocked-out dad once again.

“You know him?” The woman with the bat asked. I nodded, playing with my hands and wincing as he put alcohol on my arm. She didn’t push but nodded. “You hungry?” She asked, placing the now clean bat down. I nodded again as the man put a bandage on my arm. She took me out of the RV and sat me with other people, telling them to feed me and she had to check some things.

They fed me a homemade sandwich, which I ate quickly. I had been starving for days, not eating much or drinking enough. They gave me a glass of water as I watched the lady go back into the RV with a box.

I smiled as my dad came out with the man and ran to him quickly. “Hey, buddy.” He said, petting my hair.

“What goes around, comes around.” The man said to my dad, giving him back the unloaded gun. My dad took it as the woman started speaking.

“There's a gang that owns the roads at night, Is that empty gun all you have?” The woman asked my dad, to which he nodded and said, “Broke my hammer on the way here.” He said, putting the gun in his pocket. The woman took the bat from behind her and handed it to my dad. “Here.” She said. “Take this.”

My dad took it and smiled. “This the bat you hit me with?” He asked and she raised her eyebrows. “Damn girl, you pack a wallop.” He smiled at the bat as he took the case of meds.

“Get off of me,” I screamed as I kicked the men, or tried to at least. My head was slammed to the floor in a matter of seconds as my dad screamed from his position in the chair. We had come across the men they warned up about. They took our things, and us.

Now they were looking for the people who gave us the medical equipment. The leader was in front of my dad as he had a knife in his hand. “The place you told up, nobody was there.” He said, and my dad shook his head.

“I told you they move-” The leader hit my dad as I screamed. One of the men hit me back into the ground. Telling me to shut the hell up.

“They were never there.” The man said, tilting his head with a packet in hand. My ears rang as I groaned and looked around. I was pulled up from the floor and carried over to the man. He held a knife up to my stomach, slicing a small cut. I heard my dad start to talk as I whined. I was thrown on the ground a moment later as my dad spoke to the men. It was about an hour later before they finally let us go with the bag. My stomach and head ached as I leaned on him.

The house came into our sight and I smiled. My dad unlocked the door as I put my things down. My dad went down the hall to his room. “Buddy.. Stay back there.” He called from the hallway as I heard his door open and things drop. I looked down the hall confused.

“Dad?” I called, walking halfway before I heard the groaning. I stopped in my tracks as I read the opened door. “Don’t leave me like this.” written in black marker. “Dad?” I called, stuttering and I slowly walked in. I opened my mouth but no words came out as my dad stared at my now dead mom, who was gripping onto my dad's arm and biting at him.

“Dad…” I said quietly, staring at her in shock. My dad just stood, looking at my mom, his hand on the side of her face.

I watched the house burn as I stood beside my dad. Nothing was said. I gripped my jacket as I felt the tears pool in my eyes and slide down my face. My dad had wire wrapped around his bat.

We were back, at the bikers bar where he had taken the man and woman that had helped us. Shots ran, blood spilled. I watched him kill those people, mainly the leader.

I shot up from the bed as thunder shook the ground. I felt tears on my face as I wiped them down.

“Hey.” I heard Iris whisper from beside me. Her hand lay on my chest as I looked down. “You okay?” She asked. I only nodded and laid back, adjusting the blanket. I wrap my arms around her and rest my hand against her stomach. “My dad wants me back tomorrow,” I said, kissing her neck. She hummed and played with my hands. “I'm not sure if its permanently,” I said, pressing my face on her neck.

“Well, it's quiet over here, so he’s probably pulling you out.” She said, looking back and smiling before turning away. I played with her hair. “You snuck out again?” She asked, I sighed and hummed. “You…” She paused, wondering if she should go on. I stopped playing with her hair. “You getting close with Carl.” She said, giving me a side glance. I huffed and pulled off of her.

“I'm not going into the discussion with you again,” I muttered as I turned away from her. She glared at the back of my head.

“What? Are you admitting to it-” I cut her off. “To what? What are you accusing me of?” I asked. Not many people would think that Iris would be something other than nice, kind, and helpful. But she could turn very jealous in seconds. Doesn’t matter who you were with, man or woman, she would get bitter.

She only sighed. “Are you choosing them? Or are you choosing him?” She asked, almost stating the last part. I glanced at her and huffed again.

“You know what side I’m on-” “You know what I meant.” She cut me off. I paused, gripping my pillow. “No, I'm not,” I said, shoving my head in my pillow. I stayed quiet, playing with my fingertips. I heard her hum and turn over as I glared at the wall.

I opened my eyes, groaning slightly as I turned over and rubbed them. Iris was not there, the bedside was cold so I guess she went to pack her bag or something. I threw my legs over the bed and scratched my stomach as I passed a mirror. I stood, looking at my slightly long hair.

I stuck my tongue out and put on my shirt before grabbing my things and heading outside. I left my shoes in Carl's room yesterday, leaving me in just socks as I walked into the grime home. Carl?” I called from downstairs and got no reply. I sigh and tiptoe upstairs, knocking on his door, and again, no reply.

I huffed and opened the door. Carl was asleep, lying in his washed flannel and jeans with his hat on his bed. The window gave his hair a shine and his skin a glow. I smiled as I looked around for my shoes, which were placed beside his near the door. I grabbed them off the floor and sat on his bed as I untied them. I looked out the window, seeing a big truck roll up from a distance.

I heard Carl grunt as I watched him wake up. “What are you doing?” He asked, rubbing his eyes and squinting, keeping the light out of his eyes. He sat up, moving his body to look at me. I smile and stare into his eyes. I drop my shoe on the ground and slip my foot into it.

I sigh and lay back on the bed with one shoe on and one-off.

HE laughs and stares down at me as I lay on my back on his legs. “I have to go back home for a while…” I muttered, feeling the sun on my face as it shone through the window. He hummed, looking out the window, I peered up at him, he had a guilty look on his face. I sighed, scratched my head, and stretched.

I sat up on one of my arms and stared at him. “What?” He laughed and I smiled.

“Nothing,” I said, standing. “Guess I just..” I stopped myself before slipping my other shoe on. “It’s nothing.” He nodded as I grabbed my things off the floor and cracked my neck. “Bye, Carl,” I said slightly hesitant, and he nodded, waving me off with a smile. It wasn't his normal smile. Like he wanted something, or at least wanted to say something.

It wasn’t long until I was in the car with Simon. Why Simon? I huffed as I looked out the window, watching the trees pass by. “Iris decided not to come with,” Simon said, making me look at him for a second before sighing. “What, you two love birds get in a fight?” He laughed and I only glared at the window.

I felt my pockets. “Shit,” I muttered, realizing I left my cigarettes in carls window. I groaned and sat against my seat in annoyance, knowing I wouldn’t be able to get another unless I could get down to the workers without any of the people recognizing me or any soldiers seeing me.

I rubbed my thighs as we pulled into the main entrance. I hopped out, not seeing any sign of my dad. “He had some business to deal with.” He announced, making some of the men grab my things out of the truck. They handed the suitcase to me and I nodded. I was left by myself as I walked in, getting stared at every second, getting bowed at.

Though, I didn’t miss any of this. I missed... I opened my bedroom door and sat my things by my door. The room was quiet, as usual. But not this quiet. I felt left behind as I sat on my bed. Iris was usually here, talking to me. I had gotten used to having someone talk to me. Now, I’m by myself.

I was called to the meeting room a few hours later when it was nearly dark. I opened the door with an eyebrow raised. There sat Eugene, my Dad, Simon, and Dwight.

“Dad?” I questioned as he motioned me to sit. I furrowed my eyebrows but sat.

“You’ve disappointed me, boy.” He said, placing his bat on the table, and staring at it. “Disappointed your mother here-.” “That's not my mom.” I interrupted him, looking at the stupid bat. I clenched my jaw and looked down at my hands. “Did you know, two of Alexandria's people tried to get Eugene and tried to kill me?” He stated, making me look up at his angry expression. I shook my head. “And it doesn’t stop there!” He said, tilting his head at me. I leaned in my chair. “Under your watch, they were able to get a shit load of guns, get a whole different group to try to kill me! Under your watch.” He banged on the table with the last three words.

“You told me to watch Carl-” “I told you to watch them.” He interrupted me as I swallowed. “What were you doing, Huh? Messing around, sneaking out… smoking?” He asked. I refused to reply and he slammed his bat on the metal table. “You're getting weak, boy.” He spit.

“Bullshit,” I said, looking up from my hands before standing. “That’s bullshit. I’ve been doing what you asked for years. I’ve fought to be here, and I have scars to prove it. I’m sorry I’m acting my own age, da…. No, sorry, Negan, because that's everybody's name around here, huh.” I said, staring into his eyes. Negan only glared back.

“We are going to Alexandria tomorrow and you are coming.” He replied sharply. “I do not give two damns if you don't want to or not.”

-------- Chapter 7

@mistakeinmaking ❤️😘

#carl grimes #carl grimes x male reader #negan #twd #twd x reader #the walking dead #carl grimes x reader #twd x you #negans son #rick grimes #eugene porter #male reader

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