Carl Grimes Imagines

Oh-So-Terrible Jokes

Edited (04/21/19)

Third Person
It was mutually agreed upon by the group that Carl's worst feature was his infamously terrible jokes. They were the same knock knock jokes everyone had heard since they were kids, recycled from mouth to mouth.

It was also mutually agreed upon by the group that y/n had terrible taste. There was nothing else that could make y/n crack a smile like one of Carl's century-old jokes.

The distaste for his jokes had started as a joke between Rick, Glenn, and Daryl. Between jobs around the prison and runs, they were forced to spend time with the kid that had to grow up way too fast. When they heard him trying to pick up y/n with his corny jokes, they couldn't help but laugh.

They were so bad.

Carl started the jokes knowing they were stupid. In fact, they were so stupid he knew  y/n would be forced to laugh.

When you're always with the same group of  people, conversation tends to run dry. There isn't any more celebrity gossip or new albums to talk about. It's the end of the world, after all.

Carl loved the creases around her eyes when she smiled at his jokes. Her smile would grow more and more until it couldn't possibly grow more without squishing up her face. So, her face squished and her eyes got all squinty. Her smile made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

He'd do anything to see her smile like that, even if it meant relentless teasing from everyone else in the group.

Though she'd never admit it, his jokes weren't all that funny. All the 'meant to be' stuff the group had made up because of his jokes were a lie. She'd felt terrible about it too, especially since Carl still believed it. She loved him though, so she'd smile at anything that helped to make him feel good about himself- including his oh-so-terrible jokes.

"You do know that the sun is a star, right?" y/n watched him for a reaction. "That proves your joke to be incorrect."

"Really? I had no idea!" Sarcasm was dripping from his voice as he dramatically dropped his mouth.

y/n shook her head with a grin, looking down at the field from the watchtower window. "Uh, Carl?"

"Yeah?"

"Is that a tank?"

Carl sprung up from the lawn chair set out in the middle of the floor, racing to the window. The giant tank rammed into the first fence, threatening to knock it over.

"Get back to the prison!" He grabbed his gun from the corner of the room. He looked back up to y/n, who was standing frozen and at a loss for words. "Go! Now!"

y/n rushed to the back of the tower to begin the climb down the ladder. She was going so fast and was so shaken up that her foot slipped, and she almost took a thirty foot drop. Her heart raced as she finished the climb back down.

She army crawled to the backdoor, an entrance to the building out of view from the tank. She swung the door open quickly, eyes frazzled as they tried to adjust to the dim lighting.

"Rick! Daryl!"

The only time anyone had ever heard y/n even remotely raise her voice was at Rick, who had locked her in a cell for her first week at the prison.

That had been over a year ago.

The two came jogging over, gun and crossbow already out and loaded.

"There's a tank out front and-"

"Remember the plan?" Daryl was already in motion, grabbing another gun setting against the wall. "You get your bag of supplies and get out. The spot is the little white church about a mile north from here, right?"

"Right."

"Where's Carl?"

"We were up on watch. He grabbed his gun and told me to get back-"

"Rick, it's Carl." Daryl hands Rick a semiautomatic, then another magazine of ammunition.

"He's a kid, Daryl!" Rick slid the strap over his shoulder, then grabbed another one from the wall.

"So is y/n, but we treat her like she's our age."

The whole prison shook around them, sending everyone into action. Rick and Daryl ran outside while y/n jogged around to the emergency supply closet.

She'd been digging through the pile of duffel bags and backpacks when she heard the deep growl behind her.

y/n spun around to come face-to-face with a decaying walker. Pale, wet skin hung from the walker's cheekbones. It's mouth was curled up into a snarl, showing off it's blood-coated teeth.

Her hand reached for the knife in her holster, only to hit her hip. She swore under her breath, having no choice but to shove back the oozing nightmare and make a break for it.

She turned the corner, running herself right into a small heard of walkers. She turned back to run the other way, but the walker from before had her cornered. She tried to push past it, but the yellow teeth sink into the skin of her neck, dragging her to the ground for the other walkers to feast upon.

"y/n?" Carl's whisper echoed through the cement halls of what's left of the building. "y/n, are you in here?"

There was a small growl from around the corner, the flesh-hungry beast giving itself away.

He waited behind the corner with his knife in hand, crouched and ready to pounce.

The walker was slow, tendons from its legs ripped out and torn to shreds. Intestines hung from between the shreds of its ripped black tank top.

Carl's breath caught in his throat as he realized the walker was y/n- or what was left of y/n. A large wail slipped from his mouth when he realized those are her intestines spilling out from between the shredded tank top.

With tear clouded vision, he held y/n by the shoulders and sank the knife into her temple.

Carl caught her as her body went slack. He laid her down on the cold concrete floor, stroking her hair as he forced himself to look into her gray eyes. Tears started falling from his eyes, and he pressed his head to hers as sobs started to rock his body.

Her eyes were the first thing he noticed about her- besides her body, of course. The first week she was at the prison, still behind bars, the two shared many secret glances while the adults were whispering amongst themselves about her. When he was trying to fall asleep that week, the color of her eyes and the intensity of her eye contact kept replaying over in his head.

That was the first of many hours he lost sleep over the girl, with many more to come.