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carlsdarling · 8 months ago

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Forlorn Hope Part II

Flashback to how Sadie experienced the outbreak of wildfire.

WARNINGS: violence, angst, gore, no Carl in this chapter

25.06.2010, Atlanta, Georgia

Sadie looked at her plate in disgust. Fish, mashed potatoes and broccoli, it really couldn't get any worse. "When are you driving me to the riding stables?

“When you've finished eating,” her mother replied distractedly. She was engrossed in a fashion magazine.

Sadie rebelliously slammed the cutlery on the table. “But I don't like it!” she moaned.

“Will you be quiet,” Debra Baron chided her younger daughter. “Laurie's asleep. She still has a fever.”

As if Laurie, in her room at the other end of the huge ranch-style house, would notice what was going on in the kitchen. Sadie wrinkled her nose. In any case, for the past few days everything had revolved around Laurie, who had been attacked last weekend in a dark alley not far from the club where she had been partying. She had arrived home around two o'clock in the morning, crying and holding her bleeding shoulder. “But what happened?” Debra Baron had asked in dismay, imagining the worst possible scenarios. Sadie had woken up from the noise and crept to the stairs to listen.

“I was waiting for my cab outside Gironimo's,” Laurie sniffed in shock. “And suddenly this... this guy came staggering out of an alley, and he grabbed me, and he just bit me,” she wailed hysterically. “Just like that! I... I think he was sick,” she continued. “He looked like that. And he stank terribly, like rotten meat.” Her mother had pushed aside the thin, black blouse fabric, and Sadie - peering through the banister - could see a nasty bite mark.

“We should go to the hospital,” muttered her father, who probably didn't know what to make of it. “It needs to be disinfected and treated, and you should get a tetanus shot too.”

Following this event, however, Laurie's condition steadily deteriorated, the margins of the wound became inflamed and a fever set in. The family's GP prescribed an antibiotic, but saw no need for further action. This morning, the area around the wound had turned gray-green, it had looked disgusting, like decay, and Laurie's fever continued. Debra thought about calling the doctor again. “Sadie, please eat up,” she ordered sharply. “I didn't do this for nothing...” A barbaric scream shattered the silence of the house, and they both flinched. Laurie. “You stay here,” Debra ordered, rising to check on Laurie; she didn't notice Sadie sneaking up behind her. She opened the door to Laurie's room and registered the foul odor; the hairs on the back of her neck stood up, an atavistic instinct telling her to immediately lock that door from the outside and flee, but Debra was a privileged twenty-first century housewife whose attention bounced back and forth between preparing healthy meals, her appearance, the pony club, the next tennis match with her friends, hatha yoga and family life; she had completely forgotten how to listen to primal instincts and gut feelings. So she entered the room and approached the bed, leaving Sadie standing on the threshold. “Honey, Laurie, what is it?” she asked softly, flipping back the covers. “Jesus, you're burning up like a chimney, I have to...” She shrieked shrilly as Laurie's teeth dug into her left hand without warning.

Sadie in the hallway also screamed in horror and watched as her mother struggled to free herself from her sister's grasp and rushed towards the door; Laurie staggered after her, her face contorted into a grimace, and somehow it wasn't really Laurie anymore, but somehow it still was. Debra wrenched the key from the lock, slammed the door shut and locked it. Laurie threw herself against the thin white wood from the inside, raging and making inhuman noises. Debra and Sadie looked at each other in fear, Debra's hand was bleeding and the blood stained the carpet in a crazy pattern. “Can she come out, Mum?” Sadie asked in a thin, frightened voice.

“No,” Debra replied, hoping she was right, the wood bulging slightly outwards under Laurie's fury. She was at a loss and couldn't make sense of the situation, perhaps Laurie was suffering from some kind of psychosis. “I'll call your father.”

The look on her mother's face during the following phone call scared the hell out of Sadie, Debra's eyes widened fearfully and she stammered more than she spoke. “A plague? What kind of plague, Tom?” Realizing that Sadie was watching her intently, she tried to put on a good face. “Pack. I... I understand,” she then said tonelessly, her mouth set in stone. “Come on, let's get our suitcases,” she then announced with feigned cheerfulness, clapping her hands so that a few drops of blood were splattered. “We're going on a trip!”

“But what about Laurie? And the school? And the pony club?” grumbled Sadie, who was completely confused. “And my birthday party is on Saturday!” She stomped her foot indignantly.

Debra ignored the protest. “Now be a good girl and get things together for two weeks,” she babbled frantically and went up to the attic to get the suitcases. “We'll celebrate your birthday when we get back,” she promised. ”The party's just on hold, okay?”

It wasn't okay. Nothing was okay, as the terrible noises coming from Laurie's room made clear. Sadie preferred to comply and mechanically began to take underwear, socks, shirts and pants out of the cupboards and pile them up. It wasn't long before her father came home and she heard her parents discussing quietly in the hallway. Her mother cried and then her father disappeared into the master bedroom. When he came out again, Sadie was standing in front of him. “What do you want with that?” she asked accusingly, pointing at the gun in Tom Baron's hand. The gun looked strangely out of place there; Tom Baron was a stockbroker, not a contract killer, and he only had the Glock to defend himself and his family against burglars in an emergency. You never knew when the state-of-the-art alarm system might fail.

“Go back to your room, Princess,” Tom's voice sounded foreign and pressed. “And close the door.” Sadie did as she was told at first, but stubborn as she was, she immediately opened the door a crack again so as not to miss anything. She saw her father enter Laurie's room, then two shots rang out in quick succession and Tom Baron came out again, pale as death. Sadie couldn't speak, she was so confused. Debra was crouched next to the bathroom, crying and holding her injured hand. “We have to clean the wound,” Tom said grimly. “We won't be able to get away tonight, the highway is closed, everyone's just leaving town... But first thing in the morning. We can already load the car.”

Sadie wasn't stupid, she was more than aware that something was wrong, completely wrong, her parents were restlessly rushing through the house, gathering stuff that ended up in suitcases and bags in disarray. The fluorescent lights in the garage flickered, her father loaded heaps of tins of canned food into the trunk of the Lexus, despite her mother's strict condemnation of any kind of convenience food. “Dad, what about Daisy and Tornado?” Sadie thought anxiously about her two ponies. “What about Squibbles?” Squibbles was her cat.

Tom Baron gave his daughter a harried look. His tailored shirt had sweat stains under the armpits. “Where's Squibbles?”

“I don't know. Outside? I'll go and find him,” Sadie offered uncertainly, but her father grabbed her arm unusually firmly. “Ouch!”

“You're not going outside,” Tom ordered her. “If the cat's outside, there's nothing we can do for him. Otherwise, put him in the carrier.” Sadie searched the whole house for Squibbles, but she couldn't find the cat anywhere, and her tears began to flow. Her father just seemed to want to leave him behind. And he hadn't said a word about the ponies. She sobbed and found herself in her parents' bathroom, rummaging around in the medicine cabinet, taking a Valium from the tube labeled with her mother's name and swallowing it with tap water. Following an impulse, she put the tube in her trouser pocket.

The pills were Sadie's top secret, not even Victoria, her best friend, knew about them. They often helped her to block out her parents' evening bickering and she liked the soft absorbent cotton cloud on which the Valium transported her. Even now, the medication was doing its job and Sadie lay dozing on her bed, headphones in her ear. At some point, however, despite the Valium fog, she was suddenly overcome by a queasy feeling and switched off the music. Absolute silence. It was strange, given the hustle and bustle her parents had been in just a few hours ago, and she straightened up and slipped into her sneakers. They were probably busy in the garage with the car. Her father had been looking for road maps earlier.

Well, Sadie would go out and look for Squibbles now, whether she was allowed to or not, and she would find him. She wouldn't let him be left behind. She could leave the house through the back door in the kitchen; her parents wouldn't even notice. Quietly, she stalked down the stairs after putting on a hoodie. She tiptoed along the downstairs hallway, turned the corner to the kitchen - and froze. Her brain couldn't grasp what her eyes were seeing, it was too gruesome, so it only fed in fragmented images, like a shaky slideshow.

The kitchen cupboards, the fridge, the floor, Squibbles' feeding place, everything was smeared with a red substance. Blood, Sadie realized. The sight of the kibbles soaked in blood and swollen with it would be etched in her memory forever.

Her father was lying on his back on the floor, his eyes staring up at the ceiling, lifeless and broken. His stomach was torn open. Next to the corpse, her mother crawled around like a nightmare, her face completely covered in blood, and she dug around in her husband's intestines, greedily stuffing them into her mouth. Sadie stood staring dumbly, frozen in place, her infantile psyche on the verge of fainting to protect her from the unspeakable things happening in front of her.

Then Debra Baron emitted an animalistic snarl and lunged towards her daughter like a predator, grabbing at Sadie with fingers clutching scraps of fabric.

The stupor broke just in time, Sadie screamed piercingly, and then she turned and ran for her life. At first she wanted to run up the stairs, but at the last moment she changed her mind - she would be trapped upstairs. Instead, she made her way to the garage, down the back hallway, past the utility room, her mother hot on her heels. Or rather, the thing that had once been her mother.

She tried to close the middle door, severing one of Debra's fingers in the process, but Debra was too strong, she banged into the door, Sadie got a shove and fell, bruising her left elbow on the car. She screamed in pain as her arm went numb for a moment, but she rolled over and got back to her feet immediately. Her mother's teeth snapped into the air above her, and she crawled under the Lexus, sobbing. It smelled of oil and gasoline, and still the fluorescent lights flickered unimpressed, as if Sadie's life hadn't suddenly turned to sheer horror.

Debra stumbled around, growling, obviously not quite understanding where Sadie had gone. She waited until she saw her mother's feet staggering around the workbench, then scrambled out the other side - where the opening mechanism for the garage door was. Sadie frantically hammered on the switch, but once again the electronics didn't work; there was a crank, but she couldn't reach it, it was too small. Her mother attacked her mercilessly, teeth bared, chin bloodied, eyes white, and at the very last moment Sadie's eyes fell on Squibbles' cat flap set into the bottom right corner of the garage door. She dropped to her hands and knees, pushed the plexiglass away and crawled through the small opening, painfully scraping both of her hips. Sadie was lucky that she was small and slender for her age, much more petite than her classmates.

The asphalt of the driveway was sun-warmed under her hands, and she almost made it when her mother's hand closed around her left ankle. Sadie could already feel Debra's breath on her skin, and something inside her knew that if she was bitten, she was just as doomed. With all her strength, she kicked out backwards, right into her mother's face, felt her grip loosen, and finally managed to free her leg.

She was quick-witted enough to push a bucket of flowers in front of the cat flap so that the cat wouldn't return to this home, which was no longer a home and would never be one again.

Tags: @princess321

#the walking dead #twd #carl grimes x oc

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carlsdarling · 9 months ago

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My husband being all badass 😆💋

#the walking dead #twd #carl grimes imagines #carl grimes

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carlsdarling · 9 months ago

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Forlorn Hope

This is a slow-burn Carl x OC, so, don't like, don't read ;-) I decided to post it, as I started writing it a while ago and I am not writing anything new atm. It's about Sadie, a girl who is found by Carl in the woods and he brings her to Alexandria. Everyone is 18 or older.

WARNINGS: angst, violence, mention of rape, later on: nsfw, smut

In the forest, beyond the halo of light from the small campfire, there was a crack and Sadie flinched. Her tension eased as a deer stepped out of the thicket, eyed her ruminantly, then disappeared. “Damn,” she muttered. Her heart was racing.

Sadie Baron wasn't particularly brave, never had been. She had been ten years old when the outburst came. Almost, at least - she was fully occupied with planning her birthday party, who she wanted to invite and who she didn't, who was allowed to sit next to whom, what icing the cake should have and what kind of party games she wanted to organize. The party never happened.

She thought about how long it had all been and came to the shocking realization that it must have been about eight years. Since the outbreak, she had lost all sense of time; everything that went beyond the mindless sequence of day and night overwhelmed her, blurred into a single mush, even the change of seasons hardly helped. But she thought she could remember eight winters; right now it was summer, and her birthday was on the sixth of June. She was usually too busy surviving to think about trivial things like her age and how many birthdays she had missed. Still, the thought that she had (probably? actually?) come of age without even realizing it made her sad.

This hadn't been what Sadie had imagined. Not that, as a ten-year-old, she'd had any concrete idea of how she wanted to celebrate her eighteenth - her knowledge of what it was like to be 'grown up' was drawn mainly from the existence of Laurie, her nineteen-year-old half-sister. So Sadie's fantasies included things like glittery eyeshadow, having her own car - preferably a pink one! - drinking colorful liquids that made you funny, and secretly puffing on weird-looking, hand-rolled cigarettes. Freedom. And staying up as late as you wanted.

Definitely not this. Alone, filthy, hungry and thirsty (no, half-parched, to be precise), huddled in a forest, leaning against a rugged tree trunk, while she had completely lost her sense of direction - as always. The map she'd stolen from a gas station after she'd managed to dupe Mike and get rid of him didn't help her much - which wasn't the map's fault, of course, but Sadie's own, of that she was aware.

Fuck freedom. She simply wasn't made for this new world, daughter of a wealthy family that she was, with a huge room that offered every comfort and two ponies she owned, with which she had competed in equestrian jumping competitions. This is no place for princesses, Sadie thought bitterly, looking at her torn, bloody fingernails. Unintentionally, Laurie's beautifully painted nails stood before her eyes and she swallowed. Laurie. She didn't want to think about her sister, about her parents, no. Not about what had happened, how they had ended up, how Sadie had had to flee alone, two days before her long-awaited birthday party with a giant bouncy castle and a magician's performance.

She had to put it all out of her mind or she wouldn't be able to go on; she hadn't seen much point in her life for some time anyway. On the run, mostly alone, she had either lost her companions or had had to leave them for various reasons. She no longer had a firearm; near the petrol station she had come across two sinister types who had given her a choice: either she gave them everything she owned voluntarily or they would take it anyway and rape her as well. “Pretty little blonde bird,” one of them had said greedily, undressing her with his eyes. She had no chance, she realized, so she had thrown all her belongings onto the road and run, just run, into the forest while branches whipped her in the face. And now she had nothing left, nothing but the clothes she was wearing. Her backpack with the last photos of her family and her beloved animals, and the gun in it - gone.

Sadie was miserably cold and wanted to cry. The nights were freezing and the hoodie had been in her rucksack. At least she still had her knife, it was in her belt, which was better than nothing. She moved closer to the fire, discovered a tick on her left wrist and removed it without any emotion. The old Sadie, the Sadie from the mansion district with the swimming pools, the Sadie with her ponies, that Sadie would have freaked out. But the new world really wasn't for princesses, and Princess Sadie no longer existed.

Now there was the Sadie who was almost dying of thirst, whose long hair was greasy and matted and twisted into a messy knot, and who hadn't slept for three nights and was wondering whether she could dare to close her eyes for a moment here in the forest. The risks were manageable: she could be attacked and abducted. Or she could be eaten alive.

Not a great prospect, but she was shaky from lack of sleep and could hardly look out of her eyes. She had no other choice - she had to sleep, so she scratched a kind of hollow in the leaves where she intended to hide. Her head jerked upwards and she looked anxiously in all directions. Those had been footsteps, clearly. Walker or human?

Adrenaline shot through her veins and she gripped the knife. “Who's there?” she called out, and it sounded braver than she felt. No answer, the forest lay still. At least that spoke against walkers, as they kept on trampling mindlessly, usually making stupid sounds as well. Humans were not necessarily the better alternative, Sadie had learned that painfully. “Get lost, whoever you are,” she shouted, hoping it was only one. Maybe the guys from the gas station had followed her. “I'm armed!” she shrieked when nothing happened.

“Only with a knife,” a casual voice was heard, then the bushes parted to reveal a slender, tall figure. Sadie recognized a young man with messy, long brown hair. His outfit was strange - one of his eyes was hidden behind some kind of gauze bandage, and he was wearing a sheriff's hat.

“And I can actually handle this,” Sadie growled, holding the knife out in front of her. “So back off!” She realized that her situation was hopeless - unlike her, this guy had a gun. But she couldn't just give up either.

“I don't want to hurt you,” the stranger claimed. “My name is Carl, by the way,” he told her. “And yours?”

What the hell business was that of his? “Rumpelstiltskin,” Sadie hissed, not taking her eyes off him. “Don't come any closer.”

He raised his hands placatingly; Sadie's behavior seemed to amuse him. “All right, Rumpelstiltskin, I'll stay right where I am, okay? Maybe we can talk.” She just stared at him, her eyes wide with panic in that dirty pretty face. He registered her chapped, rough lips. “Are you thirsty?” He didn't wait for her response, but tossed a small water bottle over to her.

Sadie had been searching in vain for water for over a day, her tongue parched in her mouth, and now her thirst was so enormous that she promptly dropped the knife and lunged for the bottle. She hastily unscrewed it and poured the contents down her throat so quickly that she began to cough. The water velvety wetted her throat, which already felt like sandpaper. It was about time. She wanted to back away when she realized that Carl had come closer. “I told you, I don't want to hurt you,” he assured her gently. “Are you hungry too?” Sadie nodded miserably and he handed her an egg and ham sandwich wrapped in aluminum foil. He sat down next to her at a little distance and watched her eat. “Actually, I'm looking for someone else,” he then said. “Maybe you've seen her?”

(if someone wants to be tagged for this, please comment)

#the walking dead #twd #carl grimes #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes imagines #carl grimes x oc

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carlsdarling · 9 months ago

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I once started a Carl fanfiction on another platform, then I deleted it... now I am thinking about translating it and posting it here, but I don't know if anyone is interested, as it is a Carl x OC and it's not smutty yet. It's the story of a girl called Sadie, who loses her entire family in the first days of the apocalypse and is "adopted" by a bunch of teenagers, but later she tragically loses that group also and has to survive on her own, until Carl finds her in the woods and brought her to Alexandria. Later, they fall for each other. That story is more like a book with a lot of storylines and persons, and I am not sure it is even suitable for tumblr... what do you all think?

#the walking dead #carl grimes #carl grimes imagines #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x y/n

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carlsdarling · 10 months ago

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Missing Carl today 😭

#the walking dead #twd #carl grimes #carl grimes imagines

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carlsdarling · 11 months ago

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Hahahaaaa Rick stink-eyeing Carl, probably thinking „what an ungrateful brat“ 😂

why did he look at him like that he was ready to clock him im crying

#twd #the walking dead #rick grimes #carl grimes

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carlsdarling · 1 year ago

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PLEASE do a part 3 of Carl with an older reader! It can be hcs, a blurb, whatever I just need more of that series 🤭

Carl x Older!Reader Headcanons Part IV

More headcanons... I adress with this more than one request, as there were many requests for a sequel. Everyone is 18 or over.

WARNINGS: smut, nsfw, oral (male receiving)

Carl always gets insecure and it drives him crazy when older guys give you interested looks. Last week, Jesus from Hilltop tried to strike up a conversation with you. Carl was standing a few meters away with Rick and some other people discussing the exchange of goods and kept looking over suspiciously the entire time. Rick noticed this angrily and had to keep chiding Carl to concentrate on the conversation, while Gregory stared irritably from one to the other. After a few minutes, Carl couldn't take it any longer - he turned around with an angry snort and marched over to you and Jesus, where he immediately put his arm around you possessively to mark his territory. Jesus frowned in amazement and raised his right eyebrow. "You... well, you two are..." he tried to pose a question, but Carl gruffly and aggressively cut him off. "Yes, we are. Do you have a problem with that?" Jesus raised both hands placatingly, rolled his eyes and backed away. "What does this guy think he's doing?" Carl hissed irately. "But Carl, he was just..." That was as far as you got because Carl pressed his lips roughly onto yours, gripping your hips, before pulling you behind the nearest shed, pressing you face-first against the wall to push up your dress, pull down your panties and take you from behind with fierce, jealous thrusts. The night that followed was filled with angry sex.

Carl is cuddly. He would never display it publicly, but as soon as the two of you are alone, he is all over you and wants to be held and cuddled. He is such a cute mix of being awkward and trying to be manly, especially when it comes to sex. He hasn't found his persona yet - either he acts overly dominant, or he submits to you completely; letting you take the lead and having your way with him. It’s pretty adorable.

Although the two of you have sex every day, you often surprise Carl by catching him pleasuring himself - usually in the bathroom. Each time he's embarrassed, each time he pretends it's just an one-time thing, and each time you end up in bed. Or in the shower, where you usually suck him off while he buries his hand in your wet hair and moans with his head thrown back, moving his hips. You love to put a hand on his butt in the process to feel the play of his muscles, or to toy with his balls. You also love the taste of his cock and his cum, as Carl loves to cum in your warm mouth and to see his cum dripping from your luscious, wet lips.

When Carl started getting close to Enid, it bothered you - but whenever Carl asked you if you were jealous, you denied it because you felt silly admitting it. Then Carl and Enid spent more and more time together, and gradually you began to feel uncomfortable with it. After all, this girl was a much better match for Carl in terms of age; besides, it was obvious that Enid had a crush on Carl. And she was sure to make a move on him soon, if she hadn't already. You became increasingly ill-tempered towards Carl, especially when he came home late and admitted to spending time with Enid when you asked where he was. You withdrew more and more from Carl, you hated this friendship, but you didn't dare speak openly to Carl about it - until the situation escalated one evening when Carl didn't come home again until around midnight and you could watch from the window as Enid hugged him goodbye. You were boiling with rage and left the house through the back door to spend the night at Lydia's, ranting at Enid the whole time. The next day, when Carl was on guard duty, you'd had enough: you sought out Enid and told her rudely to her face that she should keep her damn slutty hands off Carl and respect his relationship with you. When Enid laughed at you and claimed that Carl was a much better match for her, you snapped, went nuclear and slapped her across the face before pushing her to the ground and running home. Of course, Enid told Carl about it and Carl confronted you. "Why would you do something like that?" he asked helplessly, ruffling his hair, his beautiful blue eye worried and annoyed at the same time. "Enid didn't do anything to you." Upset, you threw a sofa cushion against the wall, no longer able to hide your hurt and anger. "Oh no?" you shout, on the verge of tears. "You spend almost every evening with her, and she's clearly chasing after you!" Carl shook his head with a sigh and said that wasn't true, he and Enid were just friends. As a result, you withdrew even more from Carl and didn't let him get close to you anymore; you blocked all his advances and attempts at reconciliation. Did that horrible, homely girl have to destroy your relationship? You started to detest Enid. Carl realized that things couldn't go on like this; he also realized that Enid was trying to charm him and distance him from you. One evening, Carl came into your bedroom with a large bouquet of red roses. "I'm so, so sorry, Y/N," he said contritely. "You were right about Enid. And I was unfair to you. I shouldn't have neglected you like I did.“

Carl crawled under the covers to you and kissed your neck longingly. "Please, let me make it up to you," he pleaded, his eye expressing affection and desire. "You are my eyerything... you always were, always will be... I am so sorry..." You had missed it so much, his skin so hot against yours, his moans, Carl sucking your nipples with those sultry noises, his big dick inside you, stretching you out, his hands on your body, the trembling when he climaxed and his thrusts got faster and harder, his fucked out face, his messy sweaty hair and all the cuteness overload. Afterwards, Carl told you, holding you firmly in his arms, that he had virtually cut off contact with Enid because she was constantly trying to steal him from you. "I love you, Y/N. Only you. It's just you and me." Finally reassured, you were able to sleep in his arms for the first night in a long time without the fear of losing him.

You and Carl haven't talked about it openly yet, but you've recently started clearing out a room in the house, painting the walls a sunny yellow and furnishing the room with baby things as if by accident - you got a cradle, baby clothes and a rocking horse from Maggie, and apparently your friend Lydia dropped a few hints in the community, because one day Abraham turned up with a still-original baby changer that he'd looted from somewhere and then got to work setting it up. Rosita found baby bedding and a mobilée somewhere. Deanna retrieved Spencer's old storybooks and put them on the little blue shelf that Gabriel had given you, and Michonne brought some baby bottles, a plush dinosaur and lullers from the supermarket. "When would you and Carl like to have a baby?" she asked straightforwardly. "Or are you already...?" She gazed meaningfully at your belly. "Uuum... no... and actually... we've never talked about whether we even want a child..." you mumbled. Michonne eyed you with incomprehension. "And why the baby's room then?" You seemed embarrassed. "It was just... we kind of started furnishing it, but that doesn't mean we wanted a child... it was more out of... boredom?" Michonne just grinned knowingly.

A few days later, Carl told you in bed at night that he wouldn't mind skipping the condoms. Your breath caught in your throat. "Do you mean...?" Carl nodded fervently. "I would love to have a baby together," he whispered with so much affection.

Tags: @tessasweet @taylormarieee @loveforcarl @knochentrocken0808 @xxcarlswifexx

#the walking dead #twd #carl grimes #carl grimes imagines #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes smut

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