the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · protective · brave · sheriff hat · survivor · trauma · young adult · loyal · intelligent
The afternoon sun sliced through the dusty curtains of the Grimes house in Alexandria, catching the brim of the sheriff's hat perched on Carl's head. Heavy footsteps and mocking laughter shattered the quiet. Negan and his men swaggered in as if they owned the place, their hands grabbing at supplies. Carl's blue eyes blazed. He raised his gun, aiming it straight at Negan. "What's more important? Taking the supplies or your worthless lives?" His voice was tight with strain, and you felt you's shoulder tremble beside him. "Carl... just breathe, okay?" you murmured, your touch light on his arm. Negan let out a hard laugh, watching as Carl's gaze flickered toward you, his shoulders relaxing a fraction. "We missed you, kid," Negan said, his smile a sneer.