averescu ϟ Carl Grimes Gay

ten.

T E N
T H E O D O R E

I don't like being lied to.

If you think you can criticize and play a hate and slip one past me, you are sadly mistaken; and you will eventually have blood oozing out of your throat.

It's easy to read people. Someone might make an idiotic assumption and say that I can do that because I have a degree in Human Behavior, but I can read you limb from limb with or without a fuckin' degree.

When lil' Carl thinks that I believe him when he says he's okay makes me laugh. You can practically see the caustic feeling in his stomach and his entire aura fills with anxiety and sorrow.

Daddy knows when his baby boy is having a bad day, and I am obligated to make it better.

You have no idea how long I was willing to spend holding him in my arms, snuggling him up into my chest for skin to skin contact.

I couldn't help but leave soft, long kisses all around his face. I wanted to kiss every single freckle, and play with the soft strands of hair on his head.

He's gentle, shy, almost completely lacking of confidence. He doesn't need confidence. He doesn't need anything except happiness, the world, and yours truly.

Rick Grimes has been pushed to the side, and I have taken the role of Carl's daddy, because I'm actually fit for the task. Carl needs someone to smack his ass when he's misbehaving, and can them turn right back around to fuck him so far into the mattress that there's practically a permanent dip in the bed.

Punishment, discipline, affection, and attention. P-D-A-A. Carl is 15 years old, and clings onto me because he needs the sensation of real man. He needs to be controlled, told what to do, made completely submissive.

I love every curve, every flushed cheek, every freckle; I can drink his tears and take away all of his sorrow so that he can see that the brand new day brings sunshine and happiness.

He's afraid of the dark and he doesn't like to be alone. You can feel his heartbeat speed up, slow down, and hesitate.

When you're in an episode full of fright, it feels like you're stranded in four feet of snow, you can see in front of you, and your skin is pierced with needles and a tragic feeling of numbness.

You feel like you can no longer breathe, your lungs are heavy and even though they ache, you try your hardest to breathe as well as possible. Your entire body is frozen inside, it's as if sharp icicles are filling up every single free space, plunging into your insides and poking out of your skin.

Spinning around in the dark, you can't see anything or hear yourself think. You've never felt this close to death and fear, and your adrenaline has run out like gas in a fuel tank.

If you weren't scared, you would become cocky and you'd begin to fumble over your own fingers whenever you touch something. You know nothing is going to happen to you, but you take three steps forward and you're being blown six feet back.

You're lying on your back, almost dead, feeling absolutely nothing, and taking your last few breaths. You are one of the unlucky few because you were not scared— and humans run off of fear.