#just go with it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

steddieas-shegoes · 1 month

Text

Steve grows up playing piano, absolutely hates it, but is so good at it. His parents aren’t around enough by the time he’s a teen to force him to his practices, so he slowly stops going.

His music teacher happens to be Robin’s mom, who studied at Juilliard, and traveled for nearly a decade with various orchestras and bands before settling down with her husband in Hawkins.

She can see what’s going on with Steve from day one, but knows better than to interfere.

Until he quits.

She can’t stand by and let someone so musically gifted give it up.

She shows up at his house with a violin, her own violin that she hadn’t used in years.

He’s hesitant at first, but decides to give it a try as long as she doesn’t tell his parents. The last thing he wants is for them to find out he picked up a new instrument.

She can’t give him official lessons, so she shows up to his house twice a week and hopes that he practices in his own time.

He’s a natural.

He takes to it like a duck to water.

She encourages him to perform in a local talent show, all kids under 18, most of them not half as talented as he is.

He only agrees when she says she’ll be front row.

And sure enough, for once in his life, someone shows up when they say they will. She’s sitting front row with her husband on one side and her daughter on the other. She smiles as he takes the stage, nervous about people who know him seeing him and reporting back to his parents.

He performs with heart, something he lacked with the piano. He performs with talent, something he may have with any instrument he picks up.

But most importantly, he plays with a smile. He’s having fun.

He sticks around to watch some of the other people performing: Tammy Thompson singing a very out of tune rendition of America The Beautiful, some kid from one of his classes playing piano miserably, and some band performing very loud, very angry music.

Steve wins, and for once, it feels better than when he wins at a swim meet or basketball game.

He spends the next three years secretly practicing, only performing in shows out of town, never saying anything to his parents.

He doesn’t want them to ruin this for him.

He applies to Juilliard, not thinking he has a chance in hell, not with his academic grades.

Luckily, they see that he’s “exceptional with the strings” and “plays with emotion that can’t be trained.”

He gets in.

He goes.

He thinks he may actually be able to do this, use a gift he has to make his life better.

His parents even find it acceptable, mostly because he got into the best school he could have. They still don’t bother showing up for his shows, but Mrs. Buckley always finds a way.

In his sophomore year, Robin gets in, and they both move into a small apartment off campus together. He promised to look out for her.

She tells him that music wasn’t really her passion, she was just good with a trumpet. She really wanted to be an engineer.

In his junior year, Robin transfers to Columbia, starts doing what she really wanted to do from the start. He’s proud of her, but misses having someone on campus during the day to have lunch with.

Until he stumbles, literally, into someone vaguely familiar.

“Sorry, man. Running late.”

Steve pats the man on the shoulder and turns to get to his class when the man stops him.

“Harrington? You’re a student here?”

He turns back and finally recognizes the man in front of him.

“Munson? When did you get here?”

“I got in this year. Kinda fucked up my first audition last year and they were kind enough to give me another shot.” Eddie smiled. “What on earth are you here for?”

“Violin. You?”

“Guitar and songwriting.”

“That’s great, man. I’m just really running late. Catch up soon?”

Soon was two weeks later, when Steve ran into Eddie again while leaving class.

“We should probably stop running into each other like this,” Eddie smirked. “The universe is trying to tell us something.”

“What’s it trying to tell us?”

“Not sure. Maybe we should go grab dinner and find out.”

“Now?”

“Why not? Got better plans?”

Steve thought about how Robin was barely at the apartment due to studying for midterms. He thought about how his only other friend from here was busy rehearsing for their senior showcase.

“Nah. Let me bring this home first,” he held up his violin case. “Actually.”

Steve was on a budget. His parents gave him money, sure, but they thought he was living on campus so the money they sent covered rent and groceries and nothing else.

“I could make dinner. If you want?”

“Steve Harrington cooks? And plays violin?” Eddie fake swooned. “Be still my beating heart. How will I not be seduced?”

Steve rolled his eyes. He remembered Eddie’s dramatics from school and knew better than to feed into them.

“I can make some spaghetti. Nothing fancy.”

“Spaghetti sounds great,” Eddie’s fake swoon turned to a soft smile. “You want some help?”

Steve didn’t need help, usually didn’t even want any.

But something about the way his stomach dipped when Eddie stepped closer, and the way he thought about having Eddie in his apartment, made him agree.

“Sure.”

They walked to Steve’s apartment in a comfortable silence, though Eddie kept tapping the back of his fingers against Steve’s hand.

Eddie fit next to Steve. They cooked together, they ate together, they even managed to clean up together. It was easy to find something to talk about. He’d never clicked with anyone like this, not even Robin.

By the time Robin came home, Steve and Eddie were both passed out on the couch, fingers laced together as if they hadn’t been brave enough to do anything more before they fell asleep.

By morning, Steve’s head was on Eddie’s shoulder, Eddie’s arm wrapped around him loosely.

Waking up to a soft kiss on his lips was something Steve couldn’t have imagined when he first ran into Eddie, but he was pretty glad it was how he started his day.

And almost every day after that, whether he woke up to a kiss, or met up with Eddie on campus for a kiss, he started his day with love on his lips.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #headcanon #drabble #musician Steve Harrington #musician eddie munson #we love alternate meetings in this house #we’re gonna say it’s a modern au to make things simpler #just go with it

2K notes · View notes

sleepy-writes-stuff · 1 month

Text

DP X DC PROMPT #27

(Time for something a little more lighthearted/found family. Could probably also make this a crack prompt instead.)

(#) = Notes at the end of post

(*) = Just me building off of other ideas.

✦

Visitation Rights

When Danny went to list Dani/Ellie as his heir after she'd come back from her years of traveling the world, he was quickly informed that he already had one in line for the thrown.

"What? Since when?!"

The pretentious, floating eyeball looked like he wanted to be anywhere else other than here, providing information to King Phantom, but explained anyway.

"The day you officially achieved royal status, you permanently linked your being to the Infinite Realms. When this happened, however, a child was in the process of being created with the assistance of ectoplasmic runoff that's been leaking into the mortal world for centuries. As a result of your power being incorporated into the Realms at such a time, this human child retained an imprint of your core signature. The Infinite Realms itself has recognized this child as your offspring. Your... other offspring has yet to be recognized in such a way and would therefore be considered your second heir once claimed."

Danny stared at the Observant with wide, blank eyes that were slowly filling with dread and panic.

"Why are you just telling me this now?? My coronation was over a decade ago!" He held his face in his hands and gave a horrified groan at what he just learned.

"If you really wanted that clone as your heir, I'm afraid it's too late to change it-"

Danny's head shot back up with a snarl and furious green eyes.

"That's not what I'm upset about you walking cataracts! Eleven years! I've missed eleven years of this kid's life!! How could you think I-"

At a loss for words, he growled deep in his chest. Deep enough that it echoed throughout the halls and rattled the floors.

"Who is this kid, and where can I find them?"

Once given the information and learning of the child's other parental figures, he gets to work. A few weeks later, he appears in the home office of a well-known billionaire with a stack of papers that he promptly slams onto the desk in front of the startled man. (1)

"I demand visitation rights to our son, Damian Wayne."

✦

(1) Danny actually visited Talia first to get visitation rights. Needless to say, that didn't go very well. He's still got a couple knives floating around in his chest cavity because of it.

(*) ALSO! I'm not sure how this lines up with the DC/Batman timeline. All I figured out is that if Danny waited to be crowned until after he graduated college as an astrophysicist, which take 5 to 7 years, he'd be about 36 years old when he finds out about Damian. Bruce would be about 41, so the age gap is only 5 years. If y'all wanna make this Danny/Bruce, go ahead!

1K notes · View notes

bonez-yard · 2 months

Text

Alastor, most likely delusional from blood loss: You have... beautiful eyes..

Lucifer, flustered: He's lost his mind!

#charlie: you gotta help him!#lucifer: dang it Char Char! I'm the king of hell not a doctor!!#i know he can probably magically heal alastor #but for the sake of this post #just go with it #my post #hazbin hotel #alastor #lucifer morningstar #lucifer magne #lucifer hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #appleradio #radioapple #duckiedeer #incorrect quotes #incorrect hazbin hotel quotes #hazbin hotel incorrect quotes #source: treasure planet

755 notes · View notes

bipolarediaz · 1 year

Photo

insp.

#yellowjacketsedit #yellowjackets #shauna shipman #taissa turner #jackie taylor #natalie scatorccio #lottie matthews #laura lee #I know these don't all really line up but we're going purely off Character Vibes here ok #aka: no tai did not die and come back wrong but that trope fits the VIBE of what she's going through #when she's just. sitting outside munching on some dirt.#just go with it #my gifs

2K notes · View notes

difeisheng · 6 days

Text

Fang Duobing kisses him, wine-clumsy movement tugging him forward, watchlessness of the night and all its courage summoned, sunk into his veins as pure helpless impulse.

Li Lianhua doesn't kiss him back.

"What are you doing, xiaozi?" he hears, in a moment's chasm of hesitancy, soft release of a sigh against Fang Duobing's mouth. He shifts back, leaving Li Lianhua's warmth behind, to look him in the eyes.

Fang Duobing has witnessed nearly every emotion spelled out across this man's features before. Committed the shape of each one to memory— amusement, irritation, a fleeting glimpse of what might be affection— to recall during lingchen when sleep refuses to find him. Li Lianhua's face is familiar to him in every guise and angle, like any other beloved artwork Fang Duobing could bring to his mind's eye.

Whatever this is though, wide-eyed shock and wordlessness and something else unknown, is new.

"Li Lianhua," Fang Duobing says. Only half a question, the rest plea, betrayed by his own tongue.

In a minute's suspense, there is no answer to meet it.

Shame, the twisting burn of it, crests and settles somewhere in his core. Fang Duobing makes to stand, to turn away, to wait. For whatever Li Lianhua will inevitably say to this latest foolish action, yet another in the misstepped journey of Fang Duobing's life. Perhaps Li Lianhua will tell him he made too many assumptions. Perhaps he will declare Fang Duobing too young, too naive for want like this, despite the fact that want, wanting for so many things, has been a lifelong compass lodged in Fang Duobing's heart and for months it has only led him back to Li Lianhua. Perhaps he will say—

"Don't go," and graceful fingers reach for Fang Duobing's wrist, his hand, his sleeve, keeping him in place.

Fang Duobing sinks down again.

He watches Li Lianhua glance down. Up, to the sky, stars cloaked in wisps of cloud. Over Fang Duobing's shoulder, into the long shadows of this clearing. Words form and tumble again into silence behind his lips, Fang Duobing can see it in the lanternlight, and this, the careful choice of the next lie, deflection, excuse, is worse than the dearth of anything to be read from his face at all.

"If you're not going to say anything honest," Fang Duobing starts. "Don't say anything at all."

Silence falls like a stone into a river. Out in the forest, an owl calls to the darkness.

"What I was going to say," Li Lianhua says, tone treading too light, "is that if you're going to try this, it should be with someone better for you than I can be."

Fang Duobing glares at him. "Didn't I just tell you not to say things that weren't true?"

"I—"

"Li Lianhua," he repeats, snaps, and finally, Li Lianhua properly shuts up.

Fang Duobing's hands are at Li Lianhua's lapels, clutching at rough, wash-worn fabric, warmed against his skin. He doesn't know when they got there. Something of the conflict clears in Li Lianhua's eyes, dark and blinking slowly. Maybe Fang Duobing understands now what it was in his expression, that he couldn't see through before.

But why would Li Lianhua have anything to fear from him?

Let me try this again, Fang Duobing thinks, begs a prayer to any deity that might listen. When he focuses on Li Lianhua once more, he's already being watched.

Li Lianhua's gaze slides down from Fang Duobing's own stare to his mouth, for the briefest of instants.

This time, when Fang Duobing leans in, so does Li Lianhua.

#hi no i don't know when this is set but it's before the identity reveal #just go with it #sometimes you set out to write a drabble and end up with something uh. longer than that #anyways fanghua my heart #mysterious lotus casebook #fanghua #li xiangyi #fang duobing #ashton writes fic

101 notes · View notes

lover-of-mine · 7 months

Text

So I'll keep it all to myself, if you'll keep it all to yourself...

172 notes · View notes

minnesota-fats · 6 months

Text

Kinda a crack au

But like sibling Danny and Damian where Danny the older sibling ran away from the league and just kinda pulled a Hannah Montana with his ghost half and becomes a musician.

But like he is in Gotham and belts out this song:

youtube

123 notes · View notes

timotheecontent · 2 months

Text

#timothee chalamet #timothée chalamet #~#gifs #don't ask questions i don't know #just go with it

91 notes · View notes

steddieas-shegoes · 4 months

Text

Eddie’s a nervous wreck about telling his mama about Steve. He thinks that her love will run out the moment she hears that his love flows through the boy who turned his world upside down (pun intended).

But of course it doesn’t.

“Well, it ain’t a surprise to me. He sure is a looker. And it ain’t like I haven’t had my fair share of kissin’ girls in seedy bars.”

Eddie is too dumbfounded to speak, but she continues by calling out to Wayne where he’s sitting in his chair and watching tv.

“Wayne! You remember that boyfriend you had a few years back? Tried to get you to move to California with him and you said there ain’t no way you’d leave us?”

Eddie’s jaw can’t get closer to the floor.

“What I’m sayin’ is, don’t matter who ya love as long as they love ya just as much. If Steve is the one treatin’ ya right, then you best bring him to dinner so we can welcome him into the family.”

So Eddie does.

Steve fits in perfectly, which shouldn’t surprise him, he’s good at fitting in anywhere he goes. But it’s different with this.

Steve’s relaxed, isn’t putting up any kind of facade, genuinely smiles and laughs, happiness that Eddie only sees when it’s just them. He keeps an arm around Steve’s shoulders all night, a silent claim, support he may not even need, but is offered anyway.

And at the end of the night, Eddie’s mama gives him a hug and a kiss on the cheek, Wayne shakes his hand, and Eddie tells him he loves him for the first time.

#eddie munson #mama Munson #idk what I’m using as a name for her yet #just go with it #headcanon #wayne munson #everyone’s a little queer as a treat

389 notes · View notes

haveyouseenthismovie-poll · 2 months

Text

#movies #polls #just go with it #2010s movies #dennis dugan #adam sandler #jennifer aniston #requested #have you seen this movie poll

66 notes · View notes

kissingfinelines · 4 months

Text

i’ve already mentioned that i imagine teen Nanami Kento as spiderman, BUT NOW IM THINKING ABT HIGURUMA AS DAREDEVIL??

the urge to draw them as a duo is strong but idk how niche that is…

#let me cook #spiderman au #jjk headcanons #PLS SHARE WHO U THINK WOULD BE A CERTAIN HERO #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento #marvel au #higuruma hiromi #also ik that defeats the whole purpose of daredevil’s powers #just go with it

92 notes · View notes

ashintheairlikesnow · 8 months

Text

The Heretic's Confession, Chapter One

CW: Captivity whump, some... implications... references to branding. This is just me getting a feel for the idea and character, though, really.

The robes he once kept pristine are caked in dried mud around the hem. Grigory frowns as he inspects them, rubbing along the seam. It flakes away, leaving imprints of itself behind.

Maudlin, certainly, but it feels like the stain of their sins painting his soul.

Maybe suffering can give even a man of the Goddess the sentiment of a poet. His lip curls in disgust at the very thought.

Please, please speak to me, Dromada. Tell your priest what he must do to escape this nightmare.

She is, and has always been, silent to his pleas for Her assistance.

The Goddess the people worship may be a paragon of compassion and forgiveness, her sculptures solemn and grave with hands outstretched to embrace even the lowest-born of Her children, but Grigori is beginning to suspect the holy men have got it wrong.

She isn't gracefully wise. She does not reach Her hand out to hold Her children. No, as each day passes without Her so much as whispering a reassurance, he begins to feel She is th goddess of laughter, and he is Her current favorite joke.

A knock at the door to his room - his cell, really, but of course they all like to pride themselves on keeping him in high style in his gilded cage - has him looking up, a little startled. The moon has only made half of its trek across the night sky, through the looping swirls of galaxies far, far beyond the reach of mere mortal men. That milky spin of stars, everyone knows, is where the gods live.

He wonders how many of them are looking down on him, sipping crystalline waters, and mocking his pain.

He would spit on every last temple step, if he could.

If he could just leave the fucking room-

“Brother Grigori,” His guest singsongs, half-dancing into the room. Grigory turns away from him, laying one palm over one of the iron bars that blocks any escape through the window. His fingers close slowly around it.

“What do you want.” His voice is curt, it cuts short and sharp. “Bastard.”

“Oh, see you got my name all wrong again.” The leader of this little gang is tall - too tall - and all knees and legs, lean muscle making him heavier than he looks. Grigori is tall enough for a man, but he seems like he’s half-grown, compared to the bandit. The man’s hair is a shock of white atop his head, shaved on the sides, while Grigori’s curly brown grows to the bottom of his ears, as is prescribed for the priests. He swaths himself in black kohl around his equally dark eyes and shining black leather worn back to brown from age and ill-use at the knees and elbows. Grigori’s hazel and his dirtied robes look like a joke, placed next to the bandit’s appearance. “It’s Bohli, remember? Or that’s what my mother calls me, anyway. Or she would, if she were still alive. She probably uses that when she curses my name from the heavens above, granted. I mean, probably, unless she really is suffering in the Dark After, like she deserves-”

“What do you want, Bohli?” Grigory’s head is already starting to hurt. “I don’t have time for this.”

“Nonsense. You have all the time in the world. You have nothing but time.”

“Not for… you. Please leave.”

“Nope. Not going anywhere. This is my house, remember? I just let you stay here.”

“Let me.” The words are sour in Grigori’s mouth. “Right, of course. Let me. Because I asked to be branded and trapped here in this room-”

“Hush. I take you for walkies every day, little god’s dog.” Bohli winks, and Grigori - who took a vow of pacifism, once - imagines stabbing his own knife through his eyeball until it comes out the other side of his head. “If you don’t want a leash, you just have to prove you won’t run off.”

He would, of course. Run. Outside, the woods stretch far and wide. There’s a path he could take to find a village, to find freedom...

Or… more realistically… to get arrested for being in league with Bohli and his bastards, which he isn’t, but everyone knows the goddess would save Her most faithful, and he’s been here too long. He would be branded a heretic. Everyone knows he’s a heretic. His own fellow priests would turn their backs on him. The people would burn him at the stake, for being defiled, degraded, a paragon of nothing but the filth they have covered him in. Little more than a bandit himself.

Maybe he is one.

Dromada would have saved him if he were truly Hers to save. And instead, here he is, the infamous giver of absolution to the men and women who massacre whole towns in defiance of - in direct insult to - the power and might of His Majesty, the King.

No. he would be burned as an enemy of the King's, and he would have no standing to defend himself. A captive this long isn't a captive at all, in the eyes of the world.

Just a man who no longer wants to be saved.

Tears prick at his eyes, and he struggles not to let Bohli see them and mock him even more. It’s not like he hasn’t already been marked. It was one of the first things they did. Bohli had given the order and watched while they tied him down. Grigori himself had been made to look as they put the iron in the fire, made to watch them heat it to red. Bohli had been whispering in his ear when when they pressed it to his pelvis, and Bohli had cooed over him while he screamed, stroking through his sweaty hair.

“Just leave,” He whispers, the area aching all over again. They branded him over the symbol of Dromada tattooed, a mark of his vow of chastity.

Another one broken.

Maybe that was when She stopped listening.

“Oh, but I can’t, darling Grigori. I’ve come to make a confession.” Bohli laughs, and his laughter could make you bleed even better than his blade. But somehow Grigori can’t seem to die from the loss. “Isn’t that why I keep a priest of Dromada around, anyway? For to save my poor mortal soul?”

Grigori fights the urge to wish aloud someone would poison the asshole’s food. “You would burn if you touched the Hem of her robe.”

“Maybe.” Bohli shrugs, kicking a chair over and dropping down into it, loose-limbed. His eyes spark with delight as he takes in Grigori’s misery. “But you wear Her robes, and yet I never burn when I touch you-”

“Speak your confession,” Grigory snaps, his heart twisting and going briefly silent and still in his chest. He feels blood rush to his face, and Bohli’s peal of bright, brittle laughter tells him the flush isn’t going unnoticed.

“Say it.” Bohli watches him, and it’s like being watched by one of the terrifying big cats that roam the woods just beyond this hideous prison. Unblinking, a predator’s stare. “Say the words, priest.”

Each time he does, they feel more bitter on his tongue.

But still.

Grigori draws the ruins of his robe closer around himself, and sits up straight. He swallows and sets his jaw. “Bohlinde hir Maksma en Ygridsen, the goddess Dromada hears and forgives all from those who love Her. You have only to ask. Speak, child, and be forgiven.”

Bohli licks his lips, leaning forwards. Somehow, Grigori can’t make himself look away. The bandit leader’s teeth are sharp - those canines can rend skin from bone. He’s part-elf, they say, somewhere in his bloodline the half-mindless shrieking hordes of the elven race lurk. You can always tell, so it’s said, from the sharpness of their teeth. From how little they care for the lives of men.

Maybe he’s half-elf.

It would explain why he’s so fucking smug.

“Forgive me, Dromada’s Chosen, for I have sinned against Her,” Bohli says, and he doesn’t even try to feign sincerity. Why he even plays this game, when Dromada isn’t a goddess for the elves of their wretched offspring to begin with, is beyond Grigori’s understanding.

Grigori fights the urge to sigh. He makes Dromada’s Sign, wondering if it even calls to Her any longer. If She even feels the spark of a follower’s call, or if he’s cut off from Her entirely. Who hears him when he prays?

Does anyone?

“How have you sinned against Our Mother, She Who Gave the Waters?”

Bohli licks his lips. His smile is a little too wide, shows too many of those sharp, sharp teeth. He'd be blisteringly handsome, if it weren’t for the sight of fangs where none should be. “I won’t lie, Brother Grigori. I set some stuff on fire yesterday. And I’m going to do it again. Will I be forgiven?”

Grigori imagines the mud climbing higher and higher up his robes, pulling him into the earth, forcing itself down his mouth and pressing over his eyes. He imagines the gods in the sky, looking down from their stars.

The image shatters with the memory of first sitting at the table with the dozen or so of Bohli's favorites, each of them smiling at him, while he sat in his pure white robes and felt himself bared, as if naked, before them.

Until Bohli had given the order for what to do with him.

“Dromada forgives all who seek Her,” Grigori intones, thoughtless. The words memorized before he was even thirteen years old, before he was old enough to take his vows. Before he was taken, and they were all broken, one by one. Bohli loved breaking Grigori's vows. “You have only to ask.”

“Good.” Bohli’s voice drops low. He has to focus to hear it, which is probably the bastard’s entire point. “Because I really, really love asking, and I love the sound of your answers.”

The bandit stands, walking over to him, putting one finger under his chin and forcing Grigori to look up - and up, and up, and up - to see the demon smile.

Grigori is sure, as Bohli watches him with his head tipped to the side and his black eyes as bright as the stars, that he can hear the goddess laughing.

#whump #new whump #the heretic's confession #captivity #captivity whump #intimate whumper #creepy whumper #fantasy whump #some weird fantasy race stuff happening here #just go with it #religious whump #religion whump #fantasy writing #bohli is a bad bad man #grigori is just a tired blorbo

91 notes · View notes

fields-of-grimes · 1 year

Text

Fights| Carl Grimes

Carl Grimes x Fem!Reader

CW: strong language,mentions of death, angry carl

A/N: I was listening to sad songs while writing this so :/

You and Carl were in Ron’s room, he was playing video games with Ron and Mikey while you were on his bed next to Enid.

You looked up from your comic looking at Carl and smiling at how happy he looked to be able to be a kid again. Enid looked up from comic as well,she smirked before looking over at Carl. “Carl you look so happy to be playing video games again.” She said making you raise an eyebrow at her as Carl looked over at her quickly. “Yeah i uh haven’t played any since before the world went to shit. I remember my m-“ he stopped talking and looked down at his controller.

You stood up and went to go comfort him but his words seemed to have sparked some interest in Enid, something that should not have intrigued her.

“Where is your mom Carl? Did she run off with some random man?” She asked laughing causing Carl to freeze up and you to glare at her.

“Why is that any of your fucking business bitch?” You asked her still glaring at her. You grabbed his hand and squeezed it softly, he didn’t say anything he just stared off into space.

“Oh wait I’m sorry Carl i forgot i overheard your dad say she died, guess she didn’t wanna even try and survive this world.” Enid said throwing her head back laughing. You growled before standing up. “How about you just shut the fuck up Enid! That is nothing to joke about!” You screamed at her as you looked back at Carl making sure he was okay.

Carl was far from okay he wasn’t even paying attention to anything going on around him all he could hear was the screams of his mother as she was being cut open, images of that day was going through his head like a slideshow, tears were starting to form, he quickly got up and left the room. You looked back at Enid and walked up to her. “If you ever and i mean ever speak to or look at Carl in the wrong way i will fucking kill you. Do you understand me?” You growled at her.

Enid only smirked in response crossing her arms. “You can try and scare me all you want but it won’t work, i was simply just telling him the truth.” She said smugly. You huffed and punched her before running after Carl.

After looking everywhere for Carl and coming up with no luck, you tried one last spot, his spot, you jumped the wall and ran to the one place you hoped you find him. Once you got close you heard faint cries, cries you’ve only ever heard when Lori gave birth. You walked up to Carl slowly. “Hey..” You said quietly as you sat next to him. He didn't say anything, he just kept staring off and crying, you grabbed his hand only for him to yank it away, you were hurt by his action, you didn’t understand why he was giving you the cold shoulder.

“Baby?” You asked him looking over at him, still nothing, you moved so you were sitting in front of him. “Carl baby talk to me.” You said cupping his face slightly. He shoved you away and stood up, he looked down at you with nothing but anger in his eyes, “Why! Why did you do that! If you didn't do what you did she wouldn't of said anything!” He screamed at you, you weren't gonna lie it scared you, this was the first time he’s ever yelled at you like this. Yes you two have had screaming fights, but never like this, he’s never been this angry with you.

“Carl i..i” you stuttered on your words not sure how to react to his sudden outburst. “I’m sorry i was just trying to comfort you.” You said standing up looking up at him since he was a little bit taller than you.

“You shouldn’t have stop being so fucking overprotective of me! I don’t need you to protect me! I don’t need you, i never have! God i wish my dad never found you!” His face softened as he realized what he said, you look at him hurt and in shock as you backed away slowly. He tried to grab your arm. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, i didn't mean it.” He said quickly.

You kept backing away from him tears forming in your eyes. “No, you meant it.” You said as you took off in the opposite direction of Alexandria ignoring Carl’s screams for you to come back. If he wished his dad never found you then you were going make sure you weren’t found.

#carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes fluff #carl grimes #carl grimes x reader #twd #twd imagine #i know this isnt something carl would do but #just go with it

436 notes · View notes