#firelight my pookies

[prettyboykatsuki]

“Their bodies fitting together like they always were intended to become one.” - with my pookie…u already know him…pretty please…

✮ tags ; gn + afab!reader (use of word cunt), dry-humping (my dearly beloved), purple prose about astarions general neediness, smut is very light but there so 18+

✮ a/n ; sorry about this tumblr user nanamimizz. dont yell at me

The tightness in Astarion's chest takes permanent residency. Love is, decidedly, not for him.

He lets his eyes wash over your expression in the moonlight. Your own are blown wide, tinged with embarrassment about the state of affairs. Astarion would prefer to tease you about this. Make an off-handed comment about such a thing, the kind that leaves you pouting and huffing. You like when he does this, calls to your own bids for connection. Makes you feel desired. The kind of thing that gives him an edge over you.

But he can't, at least not tonight. His own expression would betray him instantly he knows, because it has been a long time since he's seen you. He's glad to have saved the world, glad to have been at risk of a parasitic infection. He met you during that.

But your likeness becoming the cities strength takes more of a toll on him than he cares to admits. Sometimes he won't see you for a tenday, and you can only return to each other briefly. In moments like those, it's difficult for Astarion to think clearly. He allows himself to wash away in your attention. To lay in it quietly, without taking.

He is strangely afraid of his desires. It's something that's easy to forget, somehow. Odd, since Astarion knows so clearly what he does not want. Wanting is a different affair. Desire is something so heavy he cannot shoulder it on his own, despite thinking he understood his so well.

Astarion cannot put any specifics to the intangible desires. He wants you somehow. In some way that makes his own body feel hot despite running so cold.

It's not lust. Just want. No more than want. A want to take.

A want so intense, he can't muster up the words to cause you fluster or strife. Even as a student of deception, the desire to be entangled with you is so great the words do not make it out.

Your hand reaches for his shoulder, squeezes thoroughly as you lay underneath him. The firelight warms you, casts a gold to your skin that makes his breath hitch.

"You're staring an awful lot," You say, a characteristic coquettish quality in your voice that Astarion only really likes on you "Is something the matter?"

"It's been a long while, my dear." He replies, raking his eyes over you. Eyes wide and... beautiful and perhaps easy "I wondered if you'd abandon me,"

"Please don't say such a terrible thing," You scoff, frowning "As if I could do something like that."

Right. As if you could.

"Is something on your mind?," You ask, noticing his distance "I'm more than happy to just lay with you."

"And leave you high and dry? Surely you don't think so little of me, darling?" He proclaims, dramatic and overstated. He masks his fondness, waits till your giggling with your eyes closed to smile "It's fine. Really."

You mumble something of him being sure. He tries not to let it bury him, instead opting to shift you until your legs are more open. Until he can press himself against your clothed sex, his own cock pressed. Hard and desperate against the warm, wet outline of your cunt. You squeak, nearly try to shuffle away.

But Astarion holds your hips, lets himself rut into you. He sinks into the desire, into his own want - sucking air between the sharp space between his teeth as you moan so desperately from the friction. That friction alone could bring you to orgasm makes his head feel light

. Over and over, until you're whining so beautifully. Like you need him.

Maybe Astarion can list one of his desires. He likes when you need him, at least half as much as he needs you.

"Like I told you so valiantly," His breath is shorter as he wraps your legs around his waist, lets his teeth brush against your neck "It's fine. I'm more interested in this."

You whine, your eyes fluttering open - mouth widened like you'll drool from so little. Terribly sensitive to the touch, Astarion can't help but push his hips up into you again. Desire to make you needy, make you feel pleasure that he knows he is able to provide. He can give you this much.

Your bodies fit together so perfectly. Limbs entangled and twined together between long, panting breaths. Like they were also so perfectly intended to lock with each other, become one in a way he damn near finds righteous.

You look up at him with a look so dazed he laughs in how sorry he feels. His hand grips around your waist, face buried into your shoulder.

"Don't fret, my love," He hums, soft "I can't wait much longer than this, either."

[chronicsyd]

Opinions I have that might upset Arcane fans (well, mainly Jinx fans but oh well 🤷‍♀️)

1) I’m not sexually/romantically attracted to Jinx (I’ve said before that I’m 23 years old and thinking about Jinx in that way is weird to me, mostly cuz her age is very ambiguous and even the oldest she Could be (maybe 19) is still too young to me) (harassing people that don’t think she’s attractive makes you an asshole)

2) Jinx is not an “uwu pooki innocent bean 🥺” she’s still responsible for the decisions that she makes

3) Jinx d riders are probably some of the most annoying people in the fandom (vilifying other characters because Jinx is your fav makes you an asshole)

4) If it weren’t for Caitlyn, Vi would have never gotten out of Stillwater and reunited with Jinx

5) People claiming Vi to be “bland” truly missed what her character represents (on that note, there’s more to her character than just being hot)

6) Caitlyn did not maliciously interrupt Vi and Jinx’s reunion in episode 6, she was merely following Vi (what she’s been doing the entire time) and Vi withheld the info that Jinx was her sister

7) Silco was not a good father figure or person

8) Vi was wrong for hitting Powder yes, but she was overwhelmed watching basically her entire family die right in front of her eyes and Powder practically told her she was responsible. Vi’s only like 15 in act 1, she’s still Very much a child so saying shit like “she should have acted more mature” is stupid

9) Vi, Silco and Piltover had their part to play in the creation of Jinx. Jinx couldn’t move on from Vi hitting her and “abandoning” her (it was out of Vi’s control but that’s how it was to Jinx), Silco manipulated Jinx into thinking Vi never cared for her, and Piltover running a corrupt government didn’t help

10) calling Vi “selfish” for not shooting Caitlyn is stupid and idiotic. No, she wasn’t going to “get Powder back” if she did so, if you paid attention the show makes that pretty clear. It wouldn’t accomplish anything other than hurting Vi further (because despite the terms the two left each other on Vi still Cares about Caitlyn)

11) I find Jayce to be a rather boring protagonist

12) Silco groomed Jinx. People think grooming is Only sexual when in fact it goes a hell of a lot deeper than that.

13) you need better media literacy if you don’t understand Vi’s trauma or why she and Caitlyn fit so well together

14) it’s dumb to be mad at Vi that she doesn’t want to call Powder Jinx (the last thing she called her, feeding into Powder’s insecurities) and not wanting to accept Jinx being a mass murderer who clearly enjoys doing it (watch Vi and Jinx vs the Firelights fight again if you must)

15) Vander isn’t a superstar of a father either. He put way too much responsibility in the hands of a 15 year old girl and makes her think that every bad outcome is her fault

16) Vi didn’t replace Jinx with Caitlyn. Hell, the first chance she gets she ditches her and tries to find Jinx solo, and still wants to go back to her in episode 7. Also acting like Vi isn’t allowed to have anyone Other than Powder is stupid and selfish.

17) Vi has a habit of making really poor impulse decisions and it’s going to get her into trouble if she doesn’t get a rain check on them

I might make some points later, and you can agree or disagree these are just my opinions after all… alright bu-bye!

[kaeyx]

Vis habere hunc cabalarium in sponsum - Nakahara Chuuya

Pairing: knight!Chuuya X afab!gn!reader [2.5k]

Warnings: smut, period typical mentions of god/christianity/marriage, loss of virginity, technically infidelity, p in v sex, Chuuya is whipped, not proofread!!

Additional notes: this is the white day special! Thank you to my pookie @neviex for giving me the brainrot <3

"Tomorrow. You will go to the church. And you will be wed."

"And you'll go with me?" You say it like a question, though you already know the answer.

"Of course."

"And afterwards?" You also know the answer, you've asked at least a dozen times this week alone. It helps to hear him say it.

"I'm not going anywhere." He confirms.

"All throughout the festivities."

Chuuya just looks at you, his face somber. You sit on your bed with a sigh, and he shuts the heavy door to your room behind himself. A fire burns merrily in the hearth, but the air is cold. Neither of you speak. You begin to take off your boots just to have something to do, and Chuuya turns to the fire, kneeling by it. His chainmail and the edges of his tunic gleam in the light, but you can't see his face.

After shirking your belt and tunic you fall back onto your sheets with a sigh, clad in just your shirt and drawers. Being half naked in front of Chuuya is ill advised, especially on the eve of your wedding, but it's not like you care. He's been with you far longer than your future spouse will ever be. It doesn't feel unnatural at all.

Your thoughts swirl, somber. In the morning you'll leave this place and never come back, auctioned off like a pawn in exchange for an alliance. It's how things work and you've numbly accepted it, but somehow your heart still aches. The next fief over seems a world away, and you know you won't be able to visit home whenever you feel like it.

"I can't stand to see you like that," Chuuya says, startling you. In the firelight, his hair glows like a halo.

You sit up, looking at him properly. He's still facing away from you. Somehow, Chuuya has always been able to read your thoughts. "Miserable?"

"Married." Chuuya's eyes meet yours.

He finally gets up, and you see he's got something in his hands. A messy lump of small, riveted iron. Wordlessly he crosses the room and kneels at your feet, taking your left hand off the bed. Your mouth goes dry and your legs part automatically, letting him settle between them. You're very suddenly aware of your heart, beating frantically in your chest, hard enough to make you dizzy.

Chuuya's eyes find yours, uncharacteristically wide.

"Please," he says. There's something vulnerable in his voice. You nod.

He fiddles with the metal then slides it onto your finger, and you let him. It's a ring, made of chainmail. Your eyes flick between him and your hand, and he wordlessly shows you the hem of his mail, the small chunk missing there. Just enough for you to notice, if you know what you're looking for. Your heart aches as you look into his eyes, scared and hopeful and determined all at once.

Something rises in your chest, burning your throat. You sniff and rub your eyes, ripping your hand out of his grasp only to pull him into a hug. Hot tears slide down your cheeks and you muffle a choked sob into the cold metal of his shoulder. Chuuya's arms, just as strong and steady as you've always imagined, hold you tightly to his chest and he buries his nose in your hair. He manoeuvres you carefully but effortlessly onto your bed, going with you when it becomes apparent that you refuse to let go. Like this you're properly tangled up, practically sitting in his lap with the sharp, almost spicy smell of sweat and cloth all around you. Your chest feels lighter than it has in weeks, and the ring is warm around your finger.

You waste no time sneaking a hand down to the hem of his tunic, slipping it under the mail and cotton as you kiss the corner of his mouth.

"Wh- hey, what-" Chuuya splutters, his hands lifting from your body in uncertainty.

"Consummate it," you reply firmly, pressing yourself closer to him and pulling his mouth back onto yours.

Chuuya's hands burn, sliding up your hips and under your shirt. He pauses as the fabric reaches the top of your thighs, looking at you uncertainly.

His demeanour shifts and he's on you in an instant, just like you knew he would be. Letting out a muffled moan against your mouth while he pushes you down, one hand gripping your waist while the other rests next to your head. His legs are between yours, keeping them spread, making you feel deliciously exposed. You feel naked already, laid bare for him, and it feels right. Just like how you'd imagined your wedding night to be, when you were still a child who listened to fairy tales.

“Yes,” you say immediately, a comforting warmth blooming in your stomach.

He uncovers your skin bit by bit, transfixed, unable to keep his eyes off you as he slowly strips you of your last layer. You raise your hands to your chest, nervous, but he gently takes them and puts them back by your head. He looks mesmerized, his mouth parted as he looks you up and down. A soft “wow” escapes from his lips and you can't help but laugh.

“I don't want to be the only one bare,” you remind him, tugging on his sleeve.

Chuuya visibly shakes himself and scrambles off the bed, bending forward to help his mail slide over his head and fall to the ground with a heavy, metallic thunk. He unceremoniously shirks his tunic and hose, suddenly revealing a great expanse of skin to you. It's all wiry muscle and freckles, pale and covered in scars from various skirmishes. You can't help but stare, taking in the graceful curve of his collarbones and hips, the seamless way each muscle leads into the next as he steps towards you. Your hands twitch, eager to reach out to him, to touch him.

Chuuya takes your hand, kissing your ring before turning it around and kissing your palm too. His lips move slowly, as if he wants to savour your skin, down the inside of your wrist and all the way to the crook of your elbow while he crawls onto the bed again. In a daze, you run your free hand over his back and side, feeling how his hip fits perfectly against your palm, like you were made to hold each other.

Curling your free hand in towards his hair you pull Chuuya away from your arm, skin still tingling wherever his lips touched it. You stare into his storm grey eyes and he looks back with just as much intensity. No words come out, but he lowers himself down until his forehead is resting against yours, his breaths mingling with yours.

“You know what this means, right?” Chuuya asks, and you look at him again.

“I'm marrying you.”

He nods. “In God's eyes, we're wed. You can go put on a show tomorrow and be handed off to whoever you like, but it doesn't matter.”

You stroke his cheek. “Mine,” you say simply. “My husband.”

He gasps at that, his pupils going wide and dark, clearly not anticipating the effect your words would have on him. Chuuya grabs your chin, kissing you messily and desperately, groaning into your mouth.

“Fucking hell.” His voice trembles. “I want you so much, right now.”

You whine at that, shivering as he trails kisses to your neck and chest. “Please, Chuuya?”

“Anything, anything you want.”

“Do it.” You hesitate a second, nervous and excited all at once. “Take me.”

He tugs on the last piece of fabric covering you, sliding the hose off your legs finally letting him see you. They fall onto a heap next to his own clothes, while Chuuya's hands trace your bare thighs. There's wonder in his eyes, longing. You reach out for him, pulling him back up to lie on top of you, feeling the hardness of his chest and the graceful lines of his spine and neck.

That's when you finally let yourself focus on it, and look down. His cock, resting thick and heavy on your stomach, the tip weeping little milky drops of precum that glisten in the firelight. Chuuya sees you staring and kisses your forehead, slowly taking his length in his hand and smearing the mess onto your stomach.

“Don't be scared,” he reassures.

“You're shaking too,” you point out, stroking his back.

“I….” Chuuya swallows, looking back into your eyes. “I can't believe this is real. That you're real.”

“I never thought I could be so happy about getting married. I'm just…. nervous.”

You part your legs a little more as he rubs the tip over your folds, gasping when he feels how wet you are.

“It's okay, I won't hurt you. Can I?” Chuuya pauses, poised over you, glowing like an angel on fire in the light of the merry embers.

“Always,” you nod.

He holds your hand, intertwining your fingers and leaning down towards you, kissing your shoulder. You relax against the foreign feeling, gasping as something hot and unfamiliar slides against your folds, holding onto his sides for support. This is it.

"Take me, take me inside. I've got you," he whispers feverishly against your neck, groaning low in his throat.

“Move Chuuya, please….. I can take it.”

His lips feel so soft and his hair tickles your chest, scarred arms keeping you safe and pressed between him and your bed. It's a sin but the consummation feels holy all the same. No, not a sin. A betrayal. Throwing away your chastity. And yet, as you whine and dig your nails into Chuuya's bare, muscled back, you don't regret it one bit. You're right where you're meant to be, surrounded by him and full of him at the same time, feeling his hot breath on your skin as he trembles above you. Your husband. It stings only a little, his thick girth stretching your walls, breaking your purity and you lean into the feeling. Only he'll feel like that.

Chuuya nods, wide eyed, his gaze never leaving yours. He drinks in all your expressions, the twitch of your brows and how you bite the inside of your mouth and cling to him, your nails surely leaving little marks on his skin. You groan quietly, the feeling of something dragging along your walls is strange, but you also feel oddly full. Oddly whole. You fit together perfectly, your warm cunt wrapped tight around him and twitching with arousal, Chuuya's breath catching in his throat when his cock is squeezed. He gives a few timid strokes then moves his hips more, in and out, sloppy motions that are nonetheless perfect. He cups your cheek with one calloused hand, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the corner of your eye to wipe away the last of your earlier tears.

Chuuya's eyes travel down your body and he leans back a little to get a good view, running his hand down your chest and stomach with care. He reaches down, down between your legs where your bodies connect, and pauses to look back up at you.

“Yes, Chuuya. You can,” you nod, rubbing his arm.

His fingers trace your cunt gently, reverently, feeling your entrance stretched wide around him. He brushes against your clit and you gasp, you hips twitching up to chase more of that unexpected pleasure.

“Is that good?” Chuuya asks, stroking the spot and feeling the hard nub hidden under its hood.

You nod, grabbing his wrist and pushing his hand further against you, biting your cheek and squeezing your eyes shut.

“Don't stop,” you whisper, “move more, Chuuya, please.”

He nods, wide eyed, his breaths shaky as he begins to pump his hips again. Chuuya slowly finds a rhythm, one thumb stroking your clit in messy motions as he fucks into you. You groan and writhe under him, your head tossing from side to side, unsure where to put your hands or where to look, pinned under those beautiful eyes that seem to want to devour you.

“It's okay, it's okay, I'm never leaving,” Chuuya is babbling incoherently, such a stark contrast to his usual strong, expressive voice. His eyes look unfocused, his mouth hanging open a little and lips glistening with spit.

“Chuuya…” You whine, pulling him in by the hair to kiss him and feeling his lips continue to whisper reassurance against yours.

“I'm yours, okay? And you're mine, all mine.”

You nod shakily, the words sending a spike of need straight to your pussy. Chuuya smiles, dazed and self satisfied and full of love all at once, gripping your thigh and pulling it against his side. Something about the angle lets him go deeper, dragging against your walls while you hold him tight and hide your face in his hair. His head is bowed as if in prayer, buried in your chest as he groans and swears under his breath, pressing your bodies closer until every smooth roll of his hips rips a gasp from your throat. Your hands find their way into his hair, pulling on the silky strands as you hook your legs around his waist, finally relaxing and letting yourself be louder. His hips slap rhythmically against yours to create a wet, embarrassing noise and his thumb never leaves your clit, rubbing and circling and playing with the slick pearl as it swells and twitches. Something is building, growing tight and hot in your cunt, making your legs tremble and squeeze him tighter.

“I think… Chuuya, I'm going to…”

“Let go, please my love, let yourself go…”

Your eyes roll back as the knot snaps, your voice breaking on his name as you finally cum. Your hands fisted in his hair and clawing at his back, your legs locked around his hips while he keeps pumping into you, as if your body is instinctively trying to draw him in deeper. The whole world narrows down to him, his warm body over yours, the sharp smell of sweat, his gorgeous voice muffled into your chest as he almost cries from the feeling. Your cunt is spasming uncontrollably, tightening around him to the point of being painful when he moves, trying to suck him in. And Chuuya was never a strong man when it came to you. He gives in as soon as you cry out, his own orgasm crashing into him until he's gritting his teeth and digging his fingers into your bedding, his hips stilling as he fills you up. It's warm, spreading through you and mixing with the feeling of satisfaction sinking into your very bones.

Chuuya trembles through his orgasm, all his muscles tense, before falling into a heap on top of you. He's panting hard, his hands refusing to leave your hips as you wrap your arms around him. You're both sticky with sweat and you can feel his cum beginning to dribble out of your cunt, probably staining the sheets, but you feel too exhausted and wonderful to move.

“My knight,” you say happily, kissing the top of his head.

Chuuya rubs his cheek against you, turning his head just enough to press a warm kiss to your chest. “Yours.”

[gaybatmanenthusiast]

hello can i request me kissing sadie adler

FIRESIDE PROMISES (oneshot)

(SADIE ADLER X GN! READER)

⋆★ word count : 597

⋆★ warnings : n/a!

⋆★ summary : by the campfire, Sadie opens up to G/N, and a quiet connection begins to grow into something deeper.

⋆★ extra : sorry if she’s ooc! I don’t play rdr2 too much! or my pookie bear felix 😋

The crackling of the campfire filled the silence between the two of you, sparks occasionally flicking up into the night. The stars above seemed endless, scattered like diamonds across the inky black sky. You leaned back slightly, resting your weight on your hands, eyes occasionally glancing at Sadie. She was quiet tonight, her usual sharp edges softened by the glow of the flames.

It wasn’t often that you saw Sadie like this — the quiet, contemplative side of her. She’d become a fierce presence in your life, one that you had come to depend on. Not just for her strength or her unwavering loyalty, but for the way she’d somehow made you feel safe in a world that was constantly dangerous. There was a connection between the two of you that neither of you had quite put into words. Not yet.

Sadie stared into the fire, her jaw tight as if she were wrestling with her own thoughts. You noticed her fingers flexing against her lap, her lips pursed. She was thinking — hard. You didn’t push her. You never did.

“I used to think love was somethin’ soft,” she began, her voice low, almost hesitant. “Somethin’ gentle. The kinda thing that’d fade in a world like this.”

You stayed silent, letting her words hang between you both.

“But I’ve learned that love’s… well, it ain’t weak. It ain’t soft, neither. It’s fightin’,” she continued, her voice growing firmer. “It’s survivin’. It’s…” She hesitated, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye before looking away again. “It’s knowin’ there’s someone at your side no matter what.”

Your heart beat faster at the weight of her words. Sadie Adler didn’t often speak about emotions, not like this. She was a whirlwind of energy, strength, and resilience — but vulnerability? That was rare.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she admitted, the firelight dancing across her features as she finally turned to face you. “I don’t know how to care for someone like this.”

Her hand, calloused and scarred from the harsh life she lived, brushed against yours. For a moment, she pulled away, but then, as if deciding something in her own mind, she let her fingers linger over yours.

“You make me feel somethin’, G/N,” Sadie said, her voice dropping to almost a whisper. “And it scares the hell outta me.”

You took a slow breath, feeling the warmth of her hand and the intensity of her gaze. There was something fragile here, beneath her strength, something she rarely allowed herself to show. But she was showing it to you now, in this quiet moment by the fire, under the stars.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” you said softly, your voice steady, though your heart raced. “You don’t have to be afraid of caring, Sadie. Not with me.”

She swallowed, her eyes searching yours. Slowly, she squeezed your hand, a silent answer, as if she were finally letting herself believe that you meant it — that you weren’t going anywhere.

For a moment, there was no need for words. The campfire crackled, the wind whistled softly through the trees, and between the two of you, a promise was made. Not through grand declarations or sweeping gestures, but through the quiet, unspoken bond of two people who had chosen to stand by each other in a world that often demanded otherwise.

Sadie gave you a rare, small smile, one that lit up her face in a way you seldom saw.

“Maybe…” she said softly, leaning just a little closer, “maybe I could learn.”

[shimmershaewrites]

A Matching Set (Caryl Post Season 10 One Shot + Grimes babies + Lydia and some Aaron).

Just a little tooth-rotting fluff I found on my hard drive half finished.  Kinda, sorta Christmas fic but not.  Read it.  You’ll see.  Sorry not sorry.  

“Play lots of Tetris as a kid?”  

 The mountain man beard does precious little to hide Aaron’s brief grin as he waits for Daryl to add more to that blurted, out of the blue question.  

 Daryl doesn’t blame him.  They ain’t talked a lick since they set off beyond Alexandria’s gates with a wobbly ass wheelbarrow and an ax in dire need of sharpening.  Once or twice, Aaron’s hummed a few notes of a couple vaguely familiar Christmas tunes, but other than that?  Radio silence.  Surprise or not, however, he figures the question’s pretty on point.  Especially considering their current means of passing the dwindling daylight hours.  “So.  Did ya?” he asks again, blue eyes averted and squinting as they search out any signs of potential danger, human or otherwise. Nothing’s there.  Hasn’t been since they took the head of the last Whisperer snake, but old habits?  They die hard.  And if they’ve kept his heart beating this long, he’s not looking to abandon them. ‘Sides.  If there were anything out there, he has no doubts Dog would be the first to alert them.  Provided, of course, he wakes his lazy ass up in time.      

 Rising and carefully slotting the last piece of tinder into place atop their firewood pyramid, Aaron lets his own eyes flit over the gray horizon.  “See anything?”  Soon as Daryl shakes his head, he allows his shoulders to relax.  Then he laughs to himself quietly.  “As a matter of fact, I did play.  You?”  

 Breath whining past his chapped lips, Daryl doesn’t respond.  He’s too focused on heaving the wheelbarrow out of the mud that’s caked around its wheels, his boots, even the abandoned ax.  Loaded down as it is, shit’s definitely heavier than it looks, and he gives up, at least momentarily.  “That the last of it?”  

 Aaron nods, bending to reclaim the ax.  “That’s the last of it.”  Daryl’s muttered thank fuck has his eyes crinkling in a way they haven’t in ages, at least not in the presence of anybody but Gracie.  “Need a little help?”  

 It takes the both of them working together to get the wheelbarrow out of the rut and bumping along the path home.  They’ve been walking a while, Dog trotting on ahead, before Daryl picks the dangling thread of conversation back up.  “Played,” he admits.  “Hell else was detention good for?”  

 “Homework,” Aaron quips.  

 “Pfft.  Bet your ass was the permanent hall monitor.”

 “You’re looking at a Hall of Famer.”  

 Daryl simply smirks.  

 “Ah, the Daryl Dixon approximation of a belly laugh.  I’m breathing rarified air.”  When his teasing is merely taken in stride, his steps start to slow and he regards Daryl with something akin to wonder.  Dog even turns back to stare.  

 Feeling his friend’s eyes boring a hole in him, Daryl mutters, “Hell you staring at? Wanna trade places?”  

 Aaron takes but a second to consider the offer.  “I think I’ll pass.”  

 “No shit. Figured you’d say…”  

 “Carol prefers you.”  

    ---

 The sky’s bleached of any color by the time Daryl’s finally headed home.  The streets of Alexandria empty.  

 No wonder because there’s a storm blowing in.  First one in what promises to be a long winter season.  At least according to their self-appointed weather man Eugene.

 Personally? Daryl thinks it’s all some grade A bullshit.  Pouring over half a dozen dusty old Farmers’ Almanacs like they hold the answers. Plotting random patterns and pieces of data on time-yellowed paper in chicken scratch that would have put Merle’s own to shame.  He doesn’t need or believe any of it because he can feel it in his aging bones like some kind of wizened old wizard.  Course, it doesn’t take much these days to make old hurts echo.  And the cold he’s feeling now?  It chills his blood.  Makes him ache and wish to high hell he’d worn the ridiculous hat Carol had tried to shove down over his ears this afternoon before he and Aaron had left out. Embarrassing piece of yarn might have come in handy filtering out the hollow, haunted whistle of the wind, but damn if he was going to sacrifice his dignity like that.  Wearing a whole-ass pom-pom on top of his head.  A rainbow one at that.  Nah.  Weren’t all that long a walk from Aaron’s.  “Almost there,” he reminds himself.  “Almost.”      

 Dog’s got a little extra giddy-up in his step as he trots ahead.  

 The mutt looks back and whines as if to tell Daryl hurry and Daryl can’t help but huff something resembling a laugh as he reshuffles the load of firewood stacked clear to his chin to get a better grip.  His breath fogs in front of him like thick, odorless cigarette smoke and shit.  His fingers might be halfway numb, but they twitch reflexively for the vice he hasn’t allowed himself to indulge in months.  Shaking his head, he includes Dog when he grumbles.  “Getting soft.”  

 Dog hangs back and stares him down as if to say speak for yourself.  

 “Ain’t the only one,” Daryl generously allows when a particularly biting gust of wind swirls around them both.  It lifts his hair from his forehead and makes his eyes sting.  Has him hunching his shoulders clear to his ears as if that’d do him any good, and he finds himself hurrying just as much as the little fucker that finally abandons him, home within his sights.  “Ain’t the only one.”  

    He sheds his muddy boots just inside the kitchen door and tries to make a grab for Dog before he runs off, he really does, but the damn animal’s too squirrely.  Too excited to see his kids.  To see his girl.  Daryl can relate.  

 “Ten minutes later and we were going to send out a search party.”  

 The soft lilt of her voice brings a smile to his mouth before he’s even seen her.  “Promised I’d be back.”  All the leftover tension from the trek back through the woods melts away beneath her gentle touch and he leans his head back against her chest with a sigh.  

 “I know that,” she murmurs fondly.  “Judith knows that.  RJ too.”

 “Lydia?”

 “She worries. It’s sweet.”  

 What’s even sweeter is the feel of her hands in his hair, her nails tickling his scalp, and the smile he feels curve against his cheek before her lips leave a kiss there. “C’mere.”  

 She’s straddling his lap, arms hooked around his shoulders, and nose nestled against his own before he can ask her twice.  

 Daryl cups her head and coaxes her closer, her hair slipping like silk between his fingers. He kisses her until they both sigh.

 “Miss me, Mr. Crossbow?”

 Her smile fills his heart and works a lump into his throat.  “Always.  Know that.”

 She traces the bridge of his nose, the line of his jaw, the curve of his ear, and pouts. “Your ears are cold.”  

 “Should have worn the fucking hat.”  

 “I’m not one to say I told you so, but…”  

 “Pfft.”  

 “You really should have worn the fucking hat.  I mean, look at me.  Really look at me.  This isn’t the time or place for vanity,” she teases.    

 “That’s the ugliest sweater I’ve ever seen.”  She giggles like a girl.  Like Judith. Like Lydia when she doesn’t think anybody’s watching.  And he’ll tell her a thousand times the sweater is ugly just to hear that sound again, even though she’s still the prettiest thing he ever did see.  “The ugliest damn sweater.”  

 “The ugliest.  I left yours upstairs at the foot of the bed.”  

 “Carol.”  

 “They’re a matching set.”  

   ---

 The logs are crackling in the fireplace when he comes back downstairs and joins them.  

 RJ and Judith have their heads together nearby, talking in whispers and giggles.  Both of them seemingly transfixed by the orange sparks that float and flicker like fireflies against a midnight sky.  

 Lydia’s got a book and Dog in her lap and a blanket tucked around her toes.  A soft, hesitant smile plays upon her lips when she spies him, and she’s quick to bury her nose back in her book before it can visibly stretch from ear to ear.  

 “Stahp,” he gives a preemptive grumble when Carol glances up from mending his raggedy ass pants and her sassy mouth starts to twitch.  “Woman,” he warns with an accusatory finger when the first laugh sputters free. “If I didn’t know better…”  

 “Is Aunt Carol in trouble?” RJ asks his big sister.  

 Judith’s smile is soft and knowing even at her tender age.  “Not really.”  

 “They gonna kiss again?”

 Lydia does the answering this time.  “Probably.”

 “Did the Brave Man kiss Mama all the time too?”  

 “He did,” Judith answers wistfully.  

 “Why?”  

 “It’s what two people that love each other do.”  

 The dancing twinkle in Carol’s blue eyes softens into something else altogether, something that although it makes Daryl’s cheeks flush pink in the glimmering firelight, he brings her hand to his mouth and presses the imprint of his smile to her palm.  “Hear that?”  

 “Ain’t telling me nothing I don’t know, Sweetheart.  Now ‘bout this ugly ass sweater…”  

 “Nobody else could pull it off as well as you do, Pookie.  Nobody.”