#vintage bath and body works fall

[y2kbeautyandother2000sstuff]

BBW Fall Edition Blissful Blackberry

Fall 1999 or 2000

Found on Ebay, user jbg20

[anxietycherry]

2014 Halloween candles!

| not my picture |

[heartland-sunrise]

Perfect for fall 🍁🍂🧡🎃🔸

[zwhoreo]

i’m back for now with something I’ve been working on for a little while <3

rain - luffy x f!reader

smut

summary: while waiting out a rainstorm under a gazebo, you and Luffy use sex to pass the time

contains: very vanilla and casual, you ride luffy

words: 1.9k

_______________________________

The rain started when you were still far away. You had wandered through the forest trying to find those small, white berries that Robin told you about, you’re almost lost although you haven’t really tried to find your way back. The ship is over the hill, through those trees, maybe. But the rain comes in tiny bullets at first, seeming to pierce the leaves, the sky is darkening and a chill runs through you. You have to find the berries. The others are gathering meat, you’re gathering berries. And the rain comes faster now, machine gun fire, when you feel it on your shirt you know you aren’t imagining anymore. The moss grows softer under your feet, the leaves above you cast darker and darker shadows and the dappled sunlight fades to gray. Water makes patterns against the trees, you’re surrounded by gentle sound.

You realize that cover is more important than the berries, you need to wait out this storm, and so you run through the forest, stumbling in a soaked clearing as the rain falls freely on your face.

There’s a gazebo, bathed in the last of the light, sparkling in front of you. The paint is cracked and white, there are vintage designs on the awning, and someone is there already, huddled up on the narrow bench under its roof, hugging his knees. But he lights up when he sees you, running to the railing and grabbing the support pole.

“[NAME]!!” Luffy shouts.

“Luffy?” you call out, joyful. Rain is pouring in harder now and your hair is sticking to your face. It’s speeding up so quickly now. “I thought you were with Sanji!”

“Got lost!” he says, smiling. The rain starts to come in sheets and he blurs in your vision.

You run over to him, taking cover in the gazebo and he immediately comes over and holds you in his arms, pressing into you tightly and resting his head on your shoulder. It’s warm but he’s wet too so it doesn’t help much, not like that.

You look across the sky and you see blue in the distance, far away, but the clouds are rolling in and maybe they’ll be gone soon if you just wait. So you tell that to Luffy, who doesn’t mind waiting as long as it’s with you. You pull away from his grasp just for a moment so you two can sit down on the bench that he’s already dripped all over, but your pants are already soaked, it’s ok.

Luffy seems bursting with energy now that you’re here, but with nowhere to really let it out. He’s nearly on your lap he’s pressed so close, asking about where you’ve been, but running in the rain has made you tired so you just lean in and kiss him instead.

The world goes silent, except for the rain, as you place a hand on the back of his neck and press your lips to his gently, while his eyes are still wide open. You massage his thigh in small circles and whisper to him, “Glad I found you.”

“Mmn…” He murmurs in response, eyes drifting down to your hand. His skin is warm, he’s looking at you hungrily, now.

“We’ve got a little time, what do you wanna do?” You lean in, lips hovering right under his ear, you hear his heavy breathing, his heartbeat.

Luffy leans against you. He presses his body into yours and your lips connect with his skin and his back arches on instinct. You adjust. You place him onto the bench and quickly straddle him, your face still close to his, it seems like he really wants to kiss you again. And he can’t help himself anymore so once more those soft lips are connecting with yours as his hat brim touches your forehead. He holds your cheeks in his hands, your chests are together, his heart is racing against yours. He giggles into your mouth.

“Hehe, c’mere…” he says as you’re pulled tightly against his body in a firm, unyielding embrace. It suddenly becomes a little hard to breathe but that doesn’t really matter because you’re enjoying yourself so much.

And you whisper, “Luffy…” which gets him even more excited. And look at what you’ve done, he’s getting hard against you, pressing up between your legs.

“Eee…” you murmur as you squirm in his lap happily, making him shift against you with every bit of friction you give him. He’s making this little humming noise deep in the back of his throat that blends pleasantly with the rain on the roof overhead.

Your hands trail down the small of his back, slipping beneath his cardigan which sticks to his skin, his back is smooth and firm, skin silky and clean. Usually there’s wind-blown sea salt stuck to him, built-up sand and grime, usually he’s very sweaty, but as his muscles twitch under your touch he’s just honey-soft and wet, skin brown and sun-kissed and glistening with raindrops of gold.

“That feels good…” he says against your ear, face squishing against you.

“What do you wanna do?” you ask again, and he laughs lightly, tugging at your shirt.

He can see your body through the soaked fabric, he licks his lips, he pulls you a little closer and his hips go rhythmic in their tiny twitching and he says softly, “dunno, anything ya want,” with the biggest, dumbest smile.

Nami taught you how to read clouds, calculate the length of storms by the grayness in the sky, by the cracks of heaven. Peaking over Luffy’s shoulder and outside of the gazebo you can see this rolling rainstorm will pass in maybe twenty minutes, which is enough time for a lot of things, but definitely enough time to take care of your boyfriend who sits beneath you and revels in your pressure and weight.

You ask him, straight up, if he wants to have sex right now, because your boy is clueless enough to not know what you mean if you say anything else or try to make a move, he probably doesn’t even notice he’s hard. He says yes in a casual and happy way since he’s feeling especially affectionate today.

You lean back in his arms, shifting enough to reach down and undo his zipper because he looks uncomfortable in there. Drawing him out of his jeans he gazes down at your hands in a lazy, zoned out way, eyes shimmery and unfocused, lips wet with rain, with saliva. He’s so warm in your hands, so delicate and comforting.

You try not to hurt him as you squirm to pull your panties off, now bare beneath your skirt, his hands find your hips and he’s itching to just start fucking you into his lap. Poor Luffy, he’s probably been thinking about you all day. So you hug him, and listen to his heartbeat, whispering quiet permission to be picked up. And so he lifts you, so easily, you cling to him for balance as he clumsily tries to line himself up and his nose is wrinkled in deep concentration.

“Haahh…” he sighs into your ear as you’re lowered, slow and then too fast, aching fullness stretching your body, nerves lighting up down to your toes and your fingers as another heartbeat enters you. Luffy hugs you as he pushes you down onto him, tighter and tighter, huffing into your cheek. He’s about to start pounding his hips up against yours but you forgot how big he is, it’s been a little while, you need to adjust.

“H- hold on,” you gasp, out of breath, the feeling of him inside you threatening to overtake all reason. Luffy’s melting, he’s squishing against you and you can hear his heartbeat get faster and faster and it’s mixing with the crashing rain. “Hold on,” you say again with a steadier voice, trying to even your breathing. It’s going to be ok. He won’t hurt you, even as you feel his cock twitching within your stomach, trapping you to him. You’re so close now.

He’s kicking his feet against the ground and his hat falls off onto the bench as he presses his face against yours. His wet hair sticks to your skin. But he’s still so warm.

You nod slowly, and to confirm he asks, “ya ready?” in an excited, scratchy little voice and when you nod again he begins to squeeze your waist, sandals planted hard on the stone, and he starts to grind his hips in sloppy upwards circling that makes him scrape and rub himself inside you with such a peaceful rhythm.

You move as well, you let your body loosen in his grasp and bury your head in his neck as you ride him, slow and then too fast. Luffy begins to grunt and then to moan from the back of his throat so loud that the rain no longer drowns him out. And the sounds of you both are so wet like a puddle of rainwater, splashing, dripping. He kisses you and that’s wet too, accidentally spitting into your mouth in his joy and pleasure.

With each thrust you press against him closer. You love this so much, even as those fleeting thoughts cross your mind of what if you’re found? In the middle of this clearing framed by rain and white wood and Luffy’s being so loud that anyone could hear you, anyone could see you if they just looked between the trees here. But now isn’t the time for worrying, you feel safe and you don’t care.

When Luffy holds you down onto his lap, buried inside you as deep as he’ll go and not letting your hips so much as twitch, you know he’s about to cum. The possessiveness that overtakes him makes him insistent on releasing inside you as much as he can, there’s something about it that gives him intense, instinctual satisfaction. So you feel him spasm and groan and then fill you with a familiar finality of warmth and love, all to remind you that you’re his. And you don’t move from his lap, he won’t let you. You’re stuck here, glued here, maybe he just likes the contact, or he sort of likes the itching overstimulation, maybe he doesn’t want to watch his cum drip out of you quite yet. He’s stubborn, he won’t let go.

You kiss his forehead. You pick up his hat and place it back on his head, you wipe his hair from his eyes and gaze at him in that beautiful afterglow. Features so soft, angel skin peppered with raindrops, begging to be kissed.

The world just smells like earth and rain and sex now. And blue-yellow sunlight hits you and creates rainbows out of the water on your faces, it makes your eyes sparkle. It’s drizzling now, evaporating into mist. The storm passes, everything is quiet again, so unearthly still. Except the dripping from the gazebo, trickling from the roof and from your thighs. And Luffy’s breath in your ear. And that second heartbeat within you.

“Awh.” Luffy loves the sunshine but he’s sad because he doesn’t want to leave. This means he has to pull out of you, and go back to find Sanji, and to break apart from you even for a moment sounds like pure exhaustion for him.

“We can stay for a little longer,” you promise with a sleepy smile. Basking in his spreading smile, his arms, the smell of the sun and the dying rain.

[wroteclassicaly]

When you’re on the cusp of sleep and Eddie says, “Let’s get these panties off.”

You’re mewling a little, nodding sleepily, eyes closed, face pressed into the blue laundered fabric of Steve’s pillow. Steve Harrington, your shared boyfriend & partner, currently to your right, helping Eddie by taking the left side of your panties above defined digits and pulling. Once at your ankles, you help them slide off, immediately allowing your legs to fall open, wetness clicking as your folds separate noisily, messily.

“Jesus H. Christ, what a whore,” Eddie mumbles, already undoing his belt to relieve some friction.

“Explains why she slept topless for us to get home and find her, huh, Munson?” Steve responds, amused, eyes glazed over and sparkling beneath the reflective moonlight of the room, also lit up by streetlights.

You’d kept the window open to let in one of the last cool night’s summer breezes, eagerly approaching fall temperatures. The sweat of all day work lingers on your boyfriend’s, combined with outside, and that little bit remaining of a candle you’d lit for your night time bath. A present they’d gotten you at a vintage thrift shop, cedarwood, apple, and a little blended maple.

As they take their places beside you, eager to indulge in your body, you thank everything in this universe that they’re yours.

[dmitriene]

𝗚𝗨𝗔𝗥𝗗𝗜𝗔𝗡.

❝𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗡𝗧❞ 𝘥𝘪 𝘣𝘧 𝘭𝘦𝘰𝘯 𝘬𝘦𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘥𝘺 𝘹 𝘨𝘧 𝘧𝘦𝘮 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

❝𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗬❞ 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘹 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘣𝘢𝘳, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘶𝘯𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱

❝𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗦❞ 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘯𝘰 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵, 𝘶𝘯𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯, 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘳, 𝘩𝘶𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴, 𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦

❝𝗔𝗨𝗧𝗛𝗢𝗥'𝗦 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘❞ 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢, 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘪 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯, 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘵!

 ✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘴. 𝘢𝘰3. ˑ༄

The deep evening fell over the country bar like a velvet curtain, bathing the cozy interior in a soft, dim light, the streets outside were shrouded in a slight chill, but the warmth of the alcohol quickly spread through your body, creating a comfortable cocoon enveloping you.

The bar became your sanctuary today, a haven of familiarity and intimacy, the floor was carpeted, leather sofas lined the walls, and countless conversations and shared secrets were kept on the wooden tables.

Here you sat at the bar and enjoyed your favorite cocktail while Leon, your boyfriend, sipped on a long island iced tea.

The taste of vodka was soothing on Leon's throat and you looked at him with a soft smile, his brown hair falling over his forehead and his piercing blue eyes filled with mischief, the way he looked at you like an adoring puppy always made your heart flutter.

You reached across the counter, your fingers brushing against his and he turned his hand to gently kiss your knuckles, a gesture that spoke of his deep affection for you and made you laugh softly.

— «How's your work been, Leon?» you asked, your voice filled with genuine concern as you knew the dangers he faced as a government agent and you constantly worried about him.

He leaned closer, and the faint scent of his cologne mingled with the soothing woody scent of the bar — «Well, t's been a wild ride, but i can handle it» he assured you with a confident smile — «Knowing that you're waiting for me at home keeps me going, sweetheart»

You felt a swellnes of love in your chest as you looked into his eyes, Leon wasn't just your boyfriend — he was your rock, the one who made you feel safe and wanted, his lips found yours and you shared a soft, long kiss, the taste of his long island iced tea mingled with your cocktail, infecting with its sweetness.

The bar was filled with the subtle hum of conversation and the clink of glasses, the dimly lit room was decorated with vintage posters and vintage memorabilia, giving the space character.

There was a talented musician performing on the wooden stage at the far end of the bar, and the sweet music flowed through the air, setting the mood for the evening, so you couldn't help but tap your foot to the beat, feeling the music seep into your soul.

Leon placed his hand on the back of your bar stool, pulling you closer to him — «I thought» he said in a low and thoughtful voice — «Maybe we should plan a trip somewhere away from all this chaos»

Your eyes lit up with excitement at the thought — «I'd love that» you answered with obvious ringing enthusiasm — «Somewhere peaceful, where we can forget about the world for a while»

The two of you discussed potential destinations, sharing dreams of sandy beaches, serene forests and foreign, bustling cities, and the more you talked, the more you realized how much you both wanted a break from the constant demands of your lives.

The deeper the evening went, the more you noticed the background music, suddenly a jazz melody began to sound, finding a certain response in your soul, and you leaned closer to Leon, touching his ear with your lips and whispering — «I like this song»

He nodded in agreement, his hand found yours on the counter, and his head occasionally swayed to the beat — «A good choice indeed» he muttered, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down your spine.

In the midst of the music, your thoughts drifted back to the adventures and trials you had faced together, Leon had always been there for you, no matter what, a constant presence in your life, and you couldn't help but feel a flash of affection for him and reached out to stroke his cheek with your fingertips.

The touch of your fingers against his skin sent a delicious shiver through Leon's body, and he turned his head and took your hand in his, kissing your palm tenderly.

After a moment, his lips moved higher, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek, leaving a warm, lingering sensation on your skin, sliding intimately before he reached your earlobe and whispered that he needed to leave, promising to return soon.

You nodded, smiling tenderly at him as he disappeared into the crowd, the warmth of his presence and the scent of his cologne still lingering in the air.

Turning your attention to the bar, you decided to order another round of drinks, the music continued to play, its soothing melodies still touching your heart, and you tapped your nails on the counter, lost in the rhythm.

As you leaned towards the counter, your thoughts drifted back to the plans you and Leon had discussed earlier, the idea of a peaceful getaway seemed more tempting than ever and you couldn't wait to make that dream a reality, allowing you to wistfully draw pictures in your mind of vacation together.

Just as you were about to signal the bartender to order, a sudden touch on your shoulder made you raise an eyebrow, you turned around, wondering if Leon had returned earlier than expected, but when you saw the stranger sitting down next to you, your heart sank to your feet.

He was clearly drunk, with the distinctive smell of alcohol surrounding him, a few buttons on his chest were carelessly undone — the disheveled aftermath of some previous encounter, his disgusting appearance and bold behavior were red signs that made you wary.

His hand, bold and inappropriate, reached for your waist and you tensed, the invasion of your personal space sending a shiver of discomfort down your spine.

You looked around for the bartender, but he was busy at the far end of the bar serving other customers, so your heart began to pound like in a cage as you tried to stay calm.

— «Please don't touch me» you said firmly, your voice laced with irritation, but the stranger seemed to find your protest amusing.

He let out a deep, unsettling laugh, his alcohol laden breath washing over you — «Don't play hard to get» he slurred, his words full of arrogance — «You're a real beauty»

His hand moved further down, landing firmly on your thigh and you quickly had enough, with a sudden and decisive movement you turned away from his touch, causing your bar stool to sway dangerously.

The loud scraping sound caught the attention of the surrounding patrons and you were no longer willing to endure this man's advances.

You stood up abruptly, the bar stool toppling over and the stranger's grin turning into an indignant grimace, you stood your ground, your voice firm and decisive as you spoke to him, asserting your safety, radiating disgust — «I told you to keep your hands to yourself, this is your final warning»

Your abrupt reaction caused the stranger to frown, his drunken arrogance faltering as you firmly asserted your boundaries, to which he rudely retorted, accusing you of overreacting to a simple compliment.

There was a hint of condescension in his words, and one could not help but be outraged by the insolence of this vile man.

You stood your ground, the discomfort of the situation fell heavily on your shoulders — «I didn't ask for your attention» you replied, disappointment evident in your voice as you spoke, you took a few steps back to distance yourself from the man invading your personal space.

In your rush, you bumped into other people, prompting irritated grumbling and comments telling you to be more careful.

The man continued to taunt, his arrogance undiminished, his alcohol laden breath burning your nostrils as he leaned closer and you felt a wave of anxiety course through your veins.

The situation was out of your control, you clenched your hands at your sides in trembling fists, starting to panic and nervously look towards the dark crowd in the direction where Leon had left earlier.

And as soon as you began to despair and your thoughts turned to your boyfriend, a strong hand pulled the stranger by the shoulder, making him recoil, and the collar of his disheveled shirt clenched tighter, while Leon’s whitened fist hovered menacingly before the man’s eyes.

The stranger, in a drunken stupor, grinned defiantly — «Who do you think you are, handsome?» he slurred, his words were rude and mocking — «It's none of your business»

Leon's voice was cold and authoritative as he growled — «That became my business when you couldn't respect her boundaries»

The stranger's bravado faltered as he drunkenly muttered that your taste in men was terrible, realizing who Leon was to you, to which Leon rolled his eyes, his patience running out, and in the next seconds, without hesitation, he delivered a powerful blow, landing it right in bastard's face.

The man staggered back, his cheek instantly red and swollen, and all his courage was washed away as if by water, because he stood stunned by the sudden blow.

Leon hurriedly paid his tab at the bar, his jaw clenched into a thin line as he gently took your hand and led you outside, walking quickly in tense silence through the cool of the street, evaporating all the alcohol and built up stress.

As soon as you reached the car, Leon stopped, his grip on your hand gently loosening and he turned to you, his stormy expression giving way to concern and regret, his calloused hands cupping your cheeks as an apology fell from his lips — «I'm sorry i wasn't there in the first place, i should have been»

You couldn't help but let out a sudden giggle, either from the alcohol or his sudden sensuality, but you were still overcome with a warm feeling of affection — «Leon, it's okay, you arrived just in time, and this blow will surely be remembered by this guy»

Leon's surprise showed in his eyes, your easy acceptance of the situation pleasantly surprising him as his lips curved into a reluctant smile and he leaned down, gently kissing your lips before wrapping his arms around you in a protective embrace.

The tension of the night began to melt away in the warmth of his presence.

Pulling back, you looked at Leon, your eyes is a lake full of love and gratitude for his presence and protection, his solid shoulder — «Thank you for always taking care of me, Leon»

He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his fingers were gentle and affectionate despite the usual texture and hardness of the skin — «My job is to protect you, love, and i'll always be there when you need me»

With a shared smile, the two of you got into the car, letting the warm interior envelop you in its calmness to everything outside as Leon started the engine and you headed home, leaving behind the dimly lit bar and the unpleasant meeting, replacing it with much more pleasant memories while Leon's free hand reverently clutched your thigh, drawing patterns on it while driving along the long streets.

taglist: @roseglazedlens, @scar-crossedlvrs, @daydreamrot, @valsthearecs, @kennedyswhore-old dm me if you want to be tagged in my works or open my taglist

[14thcommander]

PLEASE, HIDE ME || HANGE ZOE X READER

cw: angst, sadness, hurt comfort | a/n: this one was very personal to write, and just something i wanted to get out of my chest… hope you like it x

The sun was setting on the other side of town, bathing the streets in an orange haze. It was a warm day — unusual for this time of the year.

The walk home wasn’t dreadful, however it wasn’t joyful either — everything felt numb, as if the heat blasting against concrete was nothing but an inconvenience.

Your day wasn’t great, but it wasn’t terrible either. Everything was supposed to be fine.

Although, you did have to name five things you could see, four things you could feel, three things you could smell.

Hange had left work earlier.

They frown, looking at their phone briefly, while they wait for the light to turn green and allow them to follow their way home — you hadn’t texted them in hours: no tiktok links, no selfies, nothing at all.

Radio silence.

The light turns green, and somebody behind them honks. With their hands gripping the steering wheel tightly, Hange mutters a curse word.

Their chest fills with worry, and they hope it doesn’t mean the worst. After all, wednesdays shouldn’t mean anything bad, they shouldn’t worry that much.

-

Your shoes aren’t placed near the entry of your shared apartment, which is enough of a clue to startle Zöe. They call your name, being met with nothing but the soft hum of the air conditioner and whatever television show rerun you were watching.

They knock before entering the bedroom — which may sound stupid, but it’s almost like Hange could feel your sulking from the door: with a sniff, you turn your head towards the sound and softly say:

“Come in”

And they do: soft brown eyes scanning the room, as if the big bad monster of sadness would be hiding in plain sight. The walls are still a beige color, the curtains are drawn and the room is washed in a soft blue halo coming from the television.

You are underneath the covers, and even from afar, Hange can tell your eyes are puffy from crying. Your bloodshot gaze isn’t enough to sustain their eye contact.

“Angel…” They mumble the words, their favorite nickname for you, given the fact your partner truly believes you are a gift sent from the heavens above. “May I join you?”

Wordlessly, you nod.

Your lover takes their shoes off, leaving them right next to your discarded pair. Their jacket is also forgotten, thrown over a nearby chair — they remember when you insisted the vintage furniture would look amazing in your shared apartment, and they’re glad they heard you. It does look really good.

Hange crawls towards you, excusing themself underneath your protection of soft covers. Their forehead is almost touching yours, and their Roman nose softly brushes against your skin. Still, they keep their hands to themself.

“Am I allowed to put my hands around you?”

They aren’t aware of what they had done specifically, however your eyes bloom with tears, which rapidly run down your face.

“Yeah” Is all you can offer them, a weak consent. Voice barely above a whisper, as your shell of a body lays with your lover.

Hange’s arms snake carefully around your body, gentle palms pressed against the small of your back, as they pull you closer. Your skin is warm, but damp: you probably showered as soon as you got home, due to the heat.

“It’s okay, you’re alright.” They whisper against the shell of your ear, warm breath fanning against your skin. “I got you, you’re safe.”

I got you.

You’re safe.

The words echo in your brain, as you sob harder against your lover’s chest. They are almost cradling you, making themself your sanctuary.

Their words aren’t simple sweet nothings. They are promises, the anthem of their undying love for you. Whatever has happened, they will fix it for you: whoever hurt you will feel the wrath of their love and the frightening of their care.

Silence falls over the room, like the gentle touch of a loveful God. It’s already dark outside, and the now mute television is all you have separating you from complete darkness.

As the floodgates of your tears shut, and the feeling of hopelessness has already grinded itself to dust against your teeth, you look up at Hange.

“How are you, poookie?”

The ridiculous nickname almost earns a snort from you. You feel warmth washing over your heart at their words, careful and well intended. You nuzzle your head against the crook of their neck, bringing them closer.

“Better now.”

[winterbrrrd]

Thrift store angel

Thrift store angel in the aisle

Catches my wide eyes and smiles

Golden sweater, see-through dress

Reveals her breasts and navy thong.

I tell her that I’m lost and weary,

Never seeing myself clearly.

And she says that I will find me,

Just so long as I keep looking.

I will find where I belong

Among these words sung to myself,

A song I sing so loud and proudly,

But my audience

Is gone.

My thrift store angel floats away

I hear her say

She’s fine alone

Because she knows her fullest power,

Knows the glory of a poem,

Knows the magic

Of pulling up in a school bus

All barefooted,

Free, and braless,

Pit hair sprouting like alfalfa in someone’s wallpapered kitchen.

She is solid in herself,

Among her friends down in the valley

While I sit here shooting shame

In some corrupt, blackened back alley.

How I wish that she would take me in her school bus to the creek

So I could wash my feet beside her,

Eat the foraged foods she eats

But I am running from myself,

Driving five hours almost daily

To escape the pain of knowing

That my worth is for the taking,

For the taking as I’ve given it away

Like it was nothing,

A religious pamphlet stranded in a bathroom stall for bumping

Lines of coke

Three in a row,

Get this circus on the road,

The chimps are screaming in the train

Because my brain is overgrown.

She says she lives off-grid,

Outside of town,

No running water,

Homemade shower,

Chewing sap,

Forgetting time,

Forgetting power -

All the people who could hurt her

Never find her in the valley

By the creek in which she bathes

And by the trees she likely prays to,

Prays for solace from the men who mark the two of us like tallies

In a thrift store by the river

In the valley ‘neath the mountains

Where I hold her words

like newborns

On the day of

Nan’s finale.

We have fled domestic violence

And we’re talking about men

Who scream and cuss and hit

When they feel challenged or threatened.

We are sifting through discarded

Vintage sweaters and tossed junk

And we are holding big white pillars

With our hands

While you rise up

And take our places in the stars

And with the angel

That I gaze at

As she walks out the front door,

My eyes shiver with amazement.

And I’ll never see this angel

Once again in this short lifetime

But I’ll see her in the stars

Or at least among the lightning

Where we’ll cast down cold, cruel demons,

Like we’re Zeus pursuing heathens

And we’ll dance among the clouds,

Big greyscale beings giving me reasons

For this angel to live with me

Even though she lives in Marshall,

I will carry pieces with me

Like the bricks and concrete morsels

That I gather from the piles

Where old houses once stood proudly,

Bulldozed finally by a town

Prioritizing wealthy families.

I will keep her in my pocket,

Like the pocket of her sweater

Where she keeps her precious secrets,

Secrets that hold her together

Proud and stately like a statue,

Hanuman atop a mountain,

Warrior and sweet protector

Of the souls burst from the fountain

Fed by rivers of sweet time

That gets more sour by the hour

As the bodies start to writhe

Under the weight of what they’ve carried

Up the mountain

Only for the weight to fall.

I am jealous of this angel,

But trying not to be jealous.

Trying to respect her refuge

How she hid me in her trellis

With her purple morning glories

And her vivid, creeping stories

Of a town that once was wild

And is now so goddamn boring.

She is everything I wish for,

Every gift I’ve ever asked for,

Every quality I crave,

Every whisper from the mountains.

She is freedom at the cost

That freedom takes when it is taken.

She is working off the land,

Oh vicious USA forsaken.

She is tired but she’s settled

In her mind and in her spirit

And she knows that she is worthy

Of a man who always sees it

And who holds it like a bluebird

Not in clasped hands,

No they’re open,

So the little bird can breathe and

When she needs to,

Can leap forward,

And she’ll fly from up the mountain

Down into the lonely valley

And she’ll fly where she so pleases,

No apologies, just proudly.

She will fly back to his hands

When she is ready

And not sooner.

She will rest in his warm palms,

Embracing comfort that won’t call her

Just to laugh at spirit stories

Of the creek and of the mountains,

No he’ll see the beauty in her,

All the souls within her fountain.

And if he doesn’t see her,

She will leave him like this world

She left behind.

[mvrrow]

;; EDEN SHEPHERD — AS TOLD.

[ laura harrier, cis woman, she/her ] - was that eden shepherd i saw by the lighthouse today? i heard that the thirty one year old who has been in nightrest for on and off throughout her life and works as the owner of ada's antiques has a reputation of being softhearted, but also evasive. they reside in ashmore & people in town usually associate them with collapsing beneath the sun; the rays of light dancing off your damp skin, wild honey with its tendency to stick to everything it touches, and handmade quilts sewn together by bittersweet nostalgia. let’s hope the killer doesn’t go after them next. [ james, 24, they/them, est, n/a ]

MENTIONS OF MEDICAL CONDITIONS (ASTHMA), CHILDHOOD ILLNESS, INFERTILITY, A BRIEF PANIC ATTACK, AND A BRIEF FAMILIAL DEATH BEYOND THIS POINT.

profile.

full name: eden beatrice shepherd.

birthday: september 4th, 1991.

astrology: virgo sun, cancer moon, sagittarius ascending.

sexuality: bisexual.

currently listening to: simulation swarm by big thief.

current mood: afraid 😱

current location: [[[cannot be found]]]

last tweet: ...im pretty sure i just found a box of vintage sex toys in the basement. thanks grandma! #scarred

PINTEREST.

history.

grows up in a tiny commune off asbury grove, surrounded by nothing but woods; it's her mother, her father, and their entire gaggle of children. eden's not the first, nor would she be the last.

it's a good community - holistic, and the kids are homeschooled - but it's a good community. tightknit, everyone helps everyone and nobody is left abandoned. eden spends her days learning about the life cycle of insects and birds, what it means to die; the lifespan of trees and the evils of deforestation.

MEDICAL CONDITION / CHILDHOOD ILLNESS; eden's first asthma attack is sudden and sharp; a breathlessness she's never felt before, a new fear fresh in her six year old body. the body remembers its trauma - and even now, she can still feel that ache from her first attack. it's a downwards, upwards, and all around sideways spiral after then - combined with a weak immune system, she's quick to sicken. pneumonia and bronchitis, as soon as the flowers bloom.

the commune is great, and it's her home - but they can't provide the help she needs, not anymore; her grandmother, ada, takes her in - only for summers at first, just so she can get the treatment she needs at the local hospital, still near family.

she falls in love with nightrest quickly - has never seen the beach before then, doesn't know the joys yet of crystal clear waters - can only admire how the ocean stretches beyond the horizon. she loves her grandmother too - she's her favorite, after all - and they spend almost all their time together, manning ada's antique shop. ada teaches eden to knit, to sew - how to put a nail through wood, the sweet taste of their fruits of labor. how to be independent, how to be reliable. how to live.

her childhood and teenhood is split between the commune and nightrest; split between two worlds, but after spending summer after summer in the small town - eden and her grandmother send in a scholarship application for wardwell. she's always excelled in school - their homeschooling regime surprisingly strict, more advanced than she would've been otherwise - but it's still a surprise when eden's actually accepted into the private institute.

her courses aren't as hard as she thought they'd be, much less a worry than the student population; whispers of her being the weird commune girl - the girl who walks the town barefoot, middle of the night - nightgown blowing against the wind. she's a witch, they whisper. schoolyard taunts making up for years of missed elementary teasing. eden never pays them much mind - head always held high, eyes always cast down upon those who look at her the wrong way.

the one thing eden finds, is that attention finds her. whether it's curious interest or purposeful distaste, or a deeper temptation - she entertains it, bathes in it; her reputation goes from witch to whore, and all she does is smile.

high school comes and goes, and so do all the rumors - their weight heavy on her shoulders towards the latter years; but university is different. after consoling her grandmother, then her parents, then half the commune - insisting her health is in perfect condition - eden packs up and heads to boston university.

she majors in bioengineering - it's an umbrella of all the things she cares about; healthcare, and agriculture - energy and sustainability. gets through all four years and half of her masters program before meeting the love of her life.

andrew dyers puts all her worries at ease with just the sound of his voice. his peace is hers; he's her voice of reason, when her thoughts scatter her. she puts her masters degree on pause, just to travel the world with him. leaves everything she's ever known, because all she wants is to be by his side. it's scary - eden's asthma's improved little by little throughout the years, and she doesn't get as sick nearly as often - but he's always stood by her. even during their fights - storming off in the middle of european cities, cold shoulders and silent treatments - he's never left her side.

when he proposes - it's the happiest eden's ever been. marriage was once a distant thought - and now she's trying on wedding dresses, tasting cakes - picking out her perfect venue, all the way in greece.

INFERTILITY; it's partially a routine visit, and partially eden preparing for their future together in advance - when she finds out the news. she can't have children - at least not of her own, not from her. not with drew. and her world collapses before her, her dreams and pinterest boards crumbling down.

she keeps the news from drew - doesn't want to confront it, doesn't want to think of it - she knows that he'd still love her, still want to be with her; but her mind's a jumble of thoughts - there's too much to plan, and the back of her mind starts voicing doubts.

PANIC ATTACK / ASTHMA; the day of the wedding is the culmination of her every doubt, her every fear - she has a panic attack for the first time in her life, triggers her asthma - is practically glued to her inhaler. everything is too much for her, the future suddenly so unclear - her worries finally shattering her. and she runs. she abandons her wedding - abandons drew - and gets on the nearest flight back to massachusetts.

her grandmother welcomes her back with open arms - listens to her, cries with her - and nightrest is where eden stays. it's coincidental, but ada's health's declining and it's the perfect time for eden to stay around the house, to care for her. it's also her excuse, in a way - as awful as it feels.

FAMILIAL DEATH; that was almost two years ago; with ada's recent passing, eden inherits not only her grandmother's antique business, but her house as well - a given, considering ada's business was out of her home.

suddenly a business & homeowner - eden's been busy managing ada's financial affairs, fixing her books - refurbishing and restoring her victorian home in all its glory. it's not the life eden had expected - or particularly wanted, at first. but she feels happier now, compared to when she first ran away.

traits.

ASTHMA; first thing's first she's an asthma girlie<3 has that inhaler ON HER at all times. her asthma attacks aren't that often or as bad anymore bt u never know. she's kind of scared of them #scarredforlife

rly kind n will go out of her way to help others whether it's with tasks or with advice or literally. anything. is the type to cook u chicken soup if u say u have a sneeze.

at the same time though she's pretty closed off when it comes to her own personal problems or Deep Feelings. a little repressed.

it's a mix of being overlooked by her parents as a middle kid, sometimes - to being fussed over too much, when she was sick. to being talked about in high school, and just plain being stubborn.

personable when it comes to others like she knows ur favorite color, ur big three zodiacs, and what u did last summer.

DIY queen she does everything herself because why spend money when u can do it urself. does not stop

her grandmother's house-slash-antique shop is like a very old victorian that her grandmother snagged right when the family moved to nightrest. it's her family home before her dad joined the commune w her mom so there's a lot of history there n it makes eden feel. comforted idk

the ground floor is pretty much just all antique shit. almost a hoarder's situation to the point where eden's been going through pieces and seeing what's even valuable / worth selling. the only semi-cleared space is the kitchen n bathroom but otherwise eden stays upstairs.

she has a doberman named daisy mae because when murders first started happening in the town eden said<3 absolutely not. n got herself a guard dog. she's trained her very well n she's very proud of it.

also a little bit emotional support bc eden is like. a bit all over the place. a little highstrung, at times, i'd say.

she hides it very well bc she makes lists and pinterest boards n has a Need to Plan everything to the T but when things stop going her way or she feels like she's losing control she like unravels a bit into a mess of anxiety. #anxiousqueen

is a bit. broke admittedly. ran through her savings when taking care of her grandmother n is just hoping that the business will be enough to get her by. if needed she can fall back on her degree but her passion's a bit. misplaced atm

bet ur ass she kept every single piece of designer that drew bought her throughout their relationship. she feels immense guilt about the entire runaway bride thing but these items r sentimental ok. they're kinda comforting. even though eden's in the wrong. let her be delulu.

has not been in a committed relationship since drew. he was her only serious one tbh. big fan of hookups n the concept of friends w benefits, even moreso one night stands. nobody is allowed to sleep in the same bed as her, she'll probably sneak out when they're asleep if its not at her place.

definitely a bit of an overthinker. she has to analyze everything.

will be honest with u. will try to be nice about it, without sugar-coating it. will speak her thoughts if she has to.

holds a grudge like a motherfucker. she's hard to anger, and already has too much patience for others - but when u get on her bad side, ur there for life. queen of passive aggressive comments and never letting it go. will bring it up in conversation n acknowledgement will not satiate her.

has mastered the silent treatment. she goes so silent when she's upset n thats how u know u've fucked up.

i think thats all! truthfully idk if any of this will be true when i actually write her so!<3

relationships.

childhood friends, from when she spent her summers in nightrest to when she moved for school. people who've known her since high school.

consistent friends who've been by her side for years n have supported her on the sidelines

people who were like wtf? when she just ran away from her wedding bc that probably got her on some shit lists even if they didn't know drew personally. bc eden definitely didn't tell anyone why.

enemies<3 moreso from when they were younger probably but like i said. eden holds a grudge of a lifetime. she'll be like i know u called me a whore in 11th grade because ur boyfriend liked staring at my tits more than looking at even just ur face. n thats not my problem i hope u got the help u needed. sounds like it was traumatic.

hookups obv. one night stands n friends w benefits n people who like get that she doesn't need anything serious rn and never has.

unrequited crushes mostly on her but sometimes<3 her heart does things<3 n she is susceptible to a pretty face on occasion.

please let her be the unofficial aunt to ur muses' children she loves kids so much n gets along w them so well

college friends!! people who knew her as this like <3 passionate science nerd n is just like ? this isnt bioengineering ? standing in her shop

shop patrons <3 please fund eden's life. the store is nice i promise. just a little old.

neighbors i love a civil small talk that isnt about murder. people who've known ada growing up themselves n have their own funny little stories abt ada bc she was a bit like<3 eccentric i think.

but also actually a close friend group wld be nice? like a best friend or somebody she can tell her secrets to <3 give me like the one person who knows she's infertile. let her traumadump!!!

[marymerchandice]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: NEW J. Crew Green One Piece Bathing Suit Size 10.

[y2kbeautyandother2000sstuff]

Bath and Body Works Kitchen Spice and Fresh Ginger Lime Pillar Candles

1990s

Found on Ebay, user *seventeenseconds*

[sapphicsoie]

73 questions: 1 year later

one. on a scale of 1-10, how excited are you about life right now? solid 5

two. describe yourself in a hashtag? #hater

three. if you could do a love scene with anyone, who would it be? maybe maya hawke? or audrey plaza.... now i'm thinking ab audrey plaza...

four. if your life was a musical, what would the marquee say? "and so it continues"

five. what’s one thing people don’t know about you? this is hard bc i literally never shut the fuck up especially on the internet, but i guess most people don't know i'm from bum-fuck alabama bc i don't have a southern accent

six. what’s your wake-up ritual? i read in bed for an hour, make a cup of tea and breakfast (usually cereal or toast), and then get ready, i always have music on

seven. what’s your go-to bed ritual? i don't go on my phone an hour before bed, but i listen to music or rain noises, take a hot bath, read whilst in the bath, do skincare, get into my pyjamas, read a bit more, put on aquaphor, go to sleep (i've been trying to work on my sleep hygiene, i don't think it's working.)

eight. what’s your favourite time of day? i've weirdly become a big fan of 4:30 - 6am ?? despite not being an early bird, usually i wake up at 4am against my will

nine. your go-to for having a good laugh? brittany broski!! either on youtube or tiktok

ten. dream country to visit? i wanna hike in the alps so i guess switzerland? also new zealand would be cool

eleven. what’s the biggest surprise you’ve ever had? finding out my dad is not my biological father and i have a half-sister who lives in france

twelve. heels or flats/sneakers? sneakers

thirteen. vintage or new? vintage furniture & trinkets, new clothes

fourteen. who do you want to write your obituary? if my mom were still alive, her. if not, probably my friend virginia, we've been friends since grade 9

fifteen. style icon? noora amalie saetre from skam, also elio perlman from call my by your name (i wish i had the body of a twink ngl)

sixteen. what are three things you cannot live without? my adhd medication (lmao), my baby blanket, notebook and mechanical pencil, or something to write in

seventeen. what’s one ingredient you put in everything? probably butter lmao

eighteen. what 3 people living or dead would you want to make dinner for? my grandma, daniel handler (lemony snicket), and giula tofana

nineteen. what’s your biggest fear in life? dying alone and never falling in love again

twenty. window or aisle seat? aisle seat #gopissgirl

twenty-one. what’s your current tv obsession? i am too busy to watch tv, instead i watch stuff like mike's mic or the broski report on youtube- but if i had to choose probably fleabag or abbott elementary

twenty-two. favourite app? i think obsidian is really cool for note taking and such, i'm also guilty of loving tiktok

twenty-three. secret talent? i am really flexible because i'm hypermobile lmao

twenty-four. the most adventurous thing you’ve ever done in your life? study abroad in norway :)

twenty-six. how would you define yourself in three words? earnest, persistent, and sadly, insecure.

twenty-seven. favourite piece of clothing you own? my emotional support uni sweatshirt that looks like a hand-me-down from the 80s because i wash it so often (i spill food on it lmao)

twenty-eight. a must-have clothing item that everyone should have? cozy knitted sweater

twenty-nine. a superpower you would want? shape shifting, always and forever

thirty. what’s inspiring you in life right now? honestly therapy?? idk i feel like i'm finally making progress and working on issues i was in denial about

thirty-one. the best piece of advice you’ve received? my dad wrote me a letter for my 16th birthday since he had to miss it. he said "it is always darkest before dawn"

thirty-two. best advice you’d give your teenage self? nothing lasts forever. also please don't let her treat you like that

thirty-three. a book everyone should read? tiny, beautiful things by cheryl strayed

thirty-four. what would you like to be remembered for? leaving the world a bit better than when i found it, whether that be on a small or grander scale.

thirty-five. how do you define beauty? obvi it's subjective, but i think someone or something that warms me inside, something so beautiful it brings me joy? also women

thirty-six. what do you love most about your body? i love my freckles and my eyes. i have blue eyes with a gold ring in the middle :)

thirty-seven. best way to take a rest/decompress? taking a hot bath whilst eating two bomb pops and reading fanfiction

thirty-eight. favourite place to view art? a museum, i love the gift shops hehe

thirty-nine. if your life was a song, what would the title be? "how long will this last?"

forty. if you could master one instrument, what would it be? piano!!

forty-one. if you had a tattoo, where would it be? probably somewhere relatively hidden, like my ankle or ribs

forty-two. dolphins or koalas? koalas, dolphins are literally evil

forty-three. what’s your spirit animal? according to a random quizzes, a bumblebee

forty-four. best gift you’ve ever received? tbh the best gift i received i never got because my ex and i broke up before she could give it to me, it was tickets to play with sea otters at the aquarium. if i have to choose a gift i actually received, probably my silver bean earrings from tiffany's that i got for my high school graduation

forty-five. best gift you’ve given? i gave my sister lily of the valley earrings (our birth month flower) + a candle with her fav fandom theme

forty-six. what’s your favourite board game? ...does cards against humanity count?

forty-seven. what’s your favourite colour? i've been fond of a dark cool toned red, forest green, and sage lately

forty-eight. least favourite colour? orange or any bright colour

forty-nine. diamond or pearls? pearls 4ever

fifty. drugstore makeup or designer? designer but there are the occasional drugstore products i love

fifty-one. blow-dry or air-dry? air-dry, i cannot blow-dry my hair to save my life :')

fifty-two. pilates or yoga? pilates, i love reformer pilates tbh

fifty-three. coffee or tea? tea unless it's a cappuccino

fifty-four. what’s the weirdest word in the english language? cattywampus like ??

fifty-five. dark chocolate or milk chocolate? milk chocolate, i have grown to enjoy dark or semisweet though

fifty-six. stairs or elevators? elevators i have a bad knee from tearing my meniscus lmao

fifty-seven. summer or winter? winter, i hate sweating

fifty-eight. you are stuck on an island, you can pick one food to eat forever without getting tired of it, what would you eat? logically it should be something healthy but my heart is saying great grains cranberry almond crunch cereal with fairlife 2% milk

fifty-nine. a dessert you don’t like? any fruit-flavoured ice cream,

sixty. a skill you’re working on mastering? not being ashamed of my hobbies, like writing, being kinder to myself.

sixty-one. best thing to happen to you today? went to knitting club :))

sixty-two. worst thing to happen to you today? waking up for work with what i fear is bronchitis

sixty-three. best compliment you’ve ever received? i usually get told i'm funny and have pretty eyes so i guess that?

sixty-four. favourite smell? this is so embarrassing but probably whatever they spray in abercrombie and fitch stores ?? i do love a yankee candle though (specifically christmas eve)

sixty-five. hugs or kisses? hugs

sixty-six. if you made a documentary, what would it be about? pro-ed communities on social media + the new potrayal of diet culture on social media (i'm writing my senior thesis on this)

sixty-seven. last piece of content you consumed that made you cry? i can't really remember but i would say a tiktok about dogs aging with the text "to be loved is to be changed"

sixty-eight. lipstick or lipgloss? lipgloss!! i have lipstick dysphoria

sixty-nine. sweet or savoury? sweet, i always need a lil treat

seventy. girl crush? i am a lesbian all of my crushes are women, atm probably havana rose liu

seventy-one. a song you can listen to on repeat? i don't smoke by mitski

seventy-two. if you could switch lives with someone for a day, who would it be? zendaya, i want to date tom holland and be hot as fuck

seventy-three. what are you most excited for about this time in your life? graduating and being free from homework and exams, finally having a place to live for more than 9 months at a time

link to 2022 73 questions

[thevillain-s]

Halloween Prep. Vintage Halloween 

[hatersbehaters4ever]

[allthingsscented]

these two worked really well together, enhancing the varsity leather jacket vibe of autumn nights with vintage 🏈

[lambden]

1 or/and 22, geraskier? <33

"I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice." T, 1.4K, no warnings Drabble list!

They can’t afford the steep cost of cider and the local brews are so terrible that they’d be better off drinking drowner piss. Jaskier, taking a cue from his days as a careless and carefree young noble, sneaks into the kitchen of the town’s brothel so as to raid their stock of cheap, sour white cooking wine. He tucks a bottle into the flowy fabric of his sleeve and on his way out, bows politely to the madam. Her thin eyebrows rise quickly but she does not follow him into the street.

Jaskier finds his companion in no time and easily falls into step with Geralt, who looks about as pleased to see Jaskier exiting a brothel as could be expected. But then the witcher’s pretty nose flares as he sniffs the air and by extension, Jaskier, and a strange light enters his eyes. “Unproductive day?”

“I’d hardly say so,” Jaskier preens, revealing the bottle with a flourish and presenting it to the witcher. Geralt takes it, immediately rolling the wine in his palm to read the label like the asshole he is. “That’s hardly vintage— it’s likely gone off, actually, but seeing as we’re in the middle of nowhere it might be the best we can get. You looked like you needed to cut loose!”

Geralt, in fact, still looks like he needs to cut loose. He’s stiff as a board as he uncorks the wine, and although the pale and sharp odour sends a twitch through his features, he takes a luxuriantly long sip. Jaskier watches, smiling distractedly, and when Geralt has his fill he wipes his mouth dry on his glove before passing the bottle.

The wine is a poor replacement for what they really want, which in Jaskier’s case is a specific vintage that they served in Cintra. That dry and sweet taste is nowhere to be found in this bottle of near-poison, but it’s free (well, stolen) and free things always taste better. He gulps down the alcohol, eyelids fluttering as he does.

When he finishes, gasping silently and sighing as his throat bobs, Jaskier opens his eyes to find Geralt watching him. The witcher’s pupils are blown wide and his lips are wet; he must just have bitten them. He watches Jaskier for far, far too long a moment; he must not even realize he’s staring.

“Shit wine,” Jaskier comments, amused and thrilled, and Geralt turns to glance away as though nothing ever happened.

-

“If I ever suggest anything this stupid again,” whines Jaskier, stars pricking in the corners of his eyes every time a new wave of soreness passes through him, “then you must shoot me right between the eyes with your crossbow. In fact, do it right now so as to end my misery! I’ll give you every last coin in my purse.”

“Witchers don’t take contracts on humans,” Geralt recites, sounding far too entertained by this for Jaskier’s liking. The witcher is stretched out on his bedroll, looking comfortable as fuck. The rough day of travel hasn’t impacted him at all, thanks to the expensive Nilfgaardian saddle he’s got on his trusty fucking steed. “Besides, didn’t you say you were a good rider?”

“Not bareback,” he grouses. “And yes, I hear the innuendo, very clever, Geralt. Shoot me.”

His companion hums infuriatingly and draws no weapon, leaving Jaskier to his agony. With tremendous effort he wiggles out of his trousers, kicking them and his stockings across the campground without watching where they land. They could land in the fire for all he cares; he’s so horribly chafed that he doesn’t think he’ll be able to wear pants for at least a week without wincing.

Jaskier uncorks the small bottle of peppermint oil that he usually uses after bathing and slathers it over his palms and between his fingers. Then, too sore to feel shame, he reaches right for his poor reddened thighs and massages the oil into the skin there. The resulting groan is entirely involuntary. He doesn’t even care how he sounds, too busy working the oil into the muscles of each leg and letting his body finally, finally relax.

When his knuckle digs into a particularly sore spot high on his thigh Jaskier keens, gasping quietly and bending forward over his lap. In the very next instant Geralt jumps to his feet, and Jaskier frowns. He would fear an oncoming attack if not for how Geralt’s hands are tightly pinned to his sides— a distinctly unwitchery pose. Without pulling his fingers away from his surely bruised thighs, Jaskier asks, “Something the matter?”

“I need to collect potion ingredients,” Geralt utters, sounding the most rehearsed that Jaskier has ever heard him. He looks back over his shoulder and his gaze dips down to the bard’s bare legs, as well as his slick fingers working between his thick, rosy thighs. 

Jaskier has the unique, first-hand experience of watching a witcher choke on their own spit. He doesn’t stop massaging his sore legs, but he does lift his head to properly stare back at Geralt, who has yet to pick up his jaw from where he dropped it. “Pity. You could have helped me with some of the hard-to-reach spots.”

“We need more firewood,” Geralt barks, nearly before Jaskier is done speaking. He storms off, leaving Jaskier to massage his legs on his own and wonder exactly how they’ve gotten themselves into this delightful mess.

-

“Go to sleep, Jaskier.”

“I can’t. I’m composing.”

This is the sort of composition that his old instructors would have raked him over the coals for indulging. The window is too small and the room too dark, so even if he wanted to write something, he’d need to light a candle and locate some paper and ink.

Instead, he and his companion lie side by side on the narrow mattress without touching. The sounds of revelry from downstairs have not yet subsided, but neither witcher nor bard is in a social mood. “Today wasn’t exactly the stuff of legend,” Geralt grunts.

Perhaps his attempt at providing some levity for their awful night, but Jaskier is too riled up to appreciate it. “Untrue,” he seethes. “There is poetry to be found in everything, even the most awful, excruciating days spent dealing with close-minded, small-brained bigots.”

“You can write your poetry tomorrow. Sleep.”

“What’s a good rhyme for stupid bastard prick?”

For nearly half a beat Geralt considers it. Then he remembers himself, grumbling in the usual churlish tone he adopts when he doesn’t want Jaskier to press things, “People get scared for their families, their homes. They’re afraid of what they don’t understand; that’s all.”

Jaskier, unfortunately, has never been very good at not pressing things. “Right, fine, but how does him being an utter dickhead help protect his family? He had no idea what he was talking about anyway! You’re not a monster!”

“Some of—”

“Don’t even start, I cannot go through this again—”

“Some of their hatred is based in fear, or in fact,” mumbles Geralt, as patiently as he might explain it to a child. 

Jaskier bristles despite himself. “Right. Well. I’m not contesting your fertility, but that wasn’t what he meant either. He described you like a creature incapable of desire of feeling.”

The witcher just says, “Not too far off.”

They’ve repaved the same path of this argument so many times that the road is smooth, and where once Jaskier’s heart stung at the idea that Geralt could ever doubt himself in such a way, now he just feels a sort of bitter warmth. He huffs, nearly amused. “Geralt, I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I won’t notice. You’re not incapable.”

There is no motion or movement in the darkness between them, not even when Jaskier turns to strain his eyes and stare. Geralt lies completely still on the far side of the bed— it hadn’t seemed far until the pair of them stopped talking, and now there might as well be an ocean between them. Jaskier suddenly fears that he might have fucked everything up by addressing the unaddressed and pulling their bond into the light for both of them to consider. He fears, too, that if he falls asleep now, the witcher will sneak away in the night and Jaskier won’t see him until next season.

Finally, Geralt moves. He doesn’t climb out of bed, instead shifting closer on the mattress. It takes very little effort at all for him to pull Jaskier into his arms, and it takes even less for Jaskier to curl into him, heart pounding for a different reason than it was a minute ago. Geralt doesn’t say a word but Jaskier somehow knows he’s smiling, and a missing piece of their puzzle slides into place.