#or at least. far enough down that they don't resurface in her sleep.

[ill-skillsgard]

Hey beetle, anything new from Faust x Faith, it’s been a while since the last story about them?

Maybe Faust is for once a sweet lover, but still fuck and fill her to the hilt, maybe a little getting prego kink?

Hi! Holy MOLY it has been a long time since I've written any Faust x Faith. I have had quite the year, but don't get me wrong... The babies were never far from my mind. I cannot ever forget our beautiful Frosty man.

So, this is set a little over a year in the future in this universe. But I won't give too much away here!

Warning: 18+ Smut, violence, mature language, protected/unprotected sex, emotional reunions, murderous rage, mentions of alcohol consumption, angst, cheating and all the good nasty things this pairing is known for.

Summary: It's been over a year since Faith broke up with Faust and he's returned home from an extensive European tour to find out his ex-girlfriend has moved on. Will Faust be able to control himself and let them live, or will his darkness drive him to get rid of Faith's new boyfriend?

- Not based on Lords of Chaos. I use Faust!Valter’s likeness only as inspiration.

Read more Faust x Faith here [x]

"You feeling okay, Frost?"

The question went unanswered, and the four members of Grey Tomb turned toward the drummer. Faust hadn't been sleeping. He barely ate, and the only time he came alive was on stage behind his drum kit. Although the last few dates of the tour hadn't been his best performances.

"Your eyes are so dark that you don't even need to wear any paint," Freydis, the singer, pointed out. She was the leader of Grey Tomb, the band who had picked him up for a European tour after their original drummer went to prison. Faust had asked no questions and didn't care where they played so long as he was as far away from home as possible. An 18-date tour was long enough to keep him occupied throughout the summer, but it was winding down, and everything started reminding Faust of her again. Even the landscape, though much different from home, brought up bitter memories of Faith.

Nightmares plagued Faust when he closed his eyes—gut-wrenching visions of Faith having sex with the jock she knew from church, his old bandmates, and even Sven. He dreamt of flames and screams and Faith looking at him like he was ugly, like she couldn't believe she had ever loved him. Evenings spent in a dismal room with police trying to make him admit he had punched Bobby Esders' face into a crimson mash, teeth blistering out of shredded, bloody lips. In these nightmares, Faust was killing again, always chasing and killing and trying to convince Faith he was fine; he was only protecting her. But she turned away every time, unconvinced he possessed no virtue.

And so, he imagined the drum skins as the face he wanted to smash and broke sticks on the rim only to unsheath fresh ones from a quiver near his shin. He'd continue the brutal assault in time with a guttural bass line and dreadful shrieking.

Faust didn't want to think of violence, so he avoided sleep and the inevitable terrors waiting to resurface in his mind. He needed therapy, an intense cerebral scrub to get to the bottom of the urges that became restless at night. But he was in a foreign country with a job to do. Therapy would have to wait.

Freydis had taken on corpse paint duty and stood above Faust as he sat on the tour bus couch, face tilted up, her chest in the way. Her tongue poked out as she blotted the black, blue, and grey paint under Faust's eyes.

"I can't wait to head home after tonight, eh, Frost?" Freydis said.

"I'd rather be touring. Nothing to go home to. At least you have a family."

"And you don't?"

"Not really. Nobody I care to see."

"Damn, Frost. Are you always this gloomy? Or has tour really beaten you down that much?"

"I'm fine." He dismissed. "And when are you gonna stop calling me 'Frost?'"

"That's you, though. You're just Frost, okay? Get over it," said Freydis. "One more spot, and I think we're done. Hopefully, you don't sweat it off during the first song."

The singer put down the brush and squeezed Faust's shoulder, jostling him. "There. Looking gnarly, dude. Oh, and don't forget, there's gonna be an after-party at the place where Astral is staying. We're invited. So, you should definitely come. Last show. We gotta go out."

"We'll see," Faust said.

"You owe me."

"Okay, okay."

"Promise you'll come?"

"No."

"Faust! Please?"

"Fine, if it means that much to you."

"Okay, and don't just stand outside smoking either."

Faust grimaced. "You don't want me to have any fun."

For the sake of appearances, Faust went along for the ride after Grey Tomb's last show to meet up with some of the tour crew and members from the headlining bands. These were the kind of people to shake hands and connect with, but Faust took one look around the penthouse apartment and regretted coming. The people there having fun were too bright for him, and the only way to dim the light was to drink so much he could barely see.

Drinking heavily was a double-edged sword for Faust. On the one hand, he could bear to socialize and even cracked jokes with the people he'd been sharing a bus with for the last two months, but on the other, he was sick.

To erase the year of his life he had spent with Faith, Faust resorted to old behaviors and, much later, found himself in a room with Freydis on his lap. She had been dropping hints all tour, but Faust knew better than to tangle up a good thing. Now that he was shipping back home soon, and Freydis was staying in Denmark, there was no reason to avoid fucking her.

"Holy shit, Frost... Are you sure that condom's gonna fit?"

Faust ignored the comment and stretched the latex ring over his cock, pulling it down as far as it would go. He might have been wasted, but he wouldn't stick it in unprotected with a woman he barely knew.

"Damn, you're a big boy," Freydis said as she climbed over his thighs and lowered herself. Once the sex started, she gripped the back of his neck and pressed her forehead to his. Faust backed away, letting her ride him while he closed his eyes and bit his lip. All the momentum he had gathered while making out with Freydis slowly disappeared. He felt his hard-on deflating inside of her despite her rigorous bucking.

"Fuck," he grunted and grabbed her tits for a rush that never came.

Freydis giggled. "Are you really that drunk you can't get it up for me, Frosty?"

"Condom's slipping."

"You should just take it off. It's okay; I'm on the pill."

"I'll get there again. Just keep...ugh, keep going."

Faust scoffed at himself. Freydis wasn't stupid, and the limp cock inside of her worsened with the condom. She stopped and signed.

"Sorry... I can't do this. I'm fucking plastered."

It was only half a lie, and when Freydis made a case to keep trying, Faust lifted her off his lap, snapped off the condom, and staggered to the door while pulling his jeans over his ass. He turned around, black hair swinging in his face.

"Sorry, I guess. Hope we're all good," Faust muttered before he left.

Freydis sat on the bed, astounded at the limp condom he'd dropped next to the waste basket.

The journey home was torture and nausea. Faust had spent an hour puking in the airport bathroom and once again into a bag on the plane they had almost missed. His acidic insides emptied, Faust fell into a fitful sleep, interrupted every so often by flight attendants who quickly learned not to bother the man with the long black hair.

On home soil, he threw his bags into a taxi and was carted home, where he fell into bed for hours with an excruciating headache. He couldn't remember a time when he felt worse and told himself he was never going on tour with alcoholic Danish metalheads ever again.

~*~

Despite his long absence, Faith never changed her habits. This made locating her easier than he liked. Faust had hoped to walk by the café where she used to study over a latte and a bagel, only to never find her there. He had hoped her family had moved away, taking his ex-girlfriend too far to contact. But just like everything else in the city, it had all stayed the same. Faith still did the same things she always did: school, working part-time at the bookstore in the mall, and sitting down in front of the window at the café where they had gone countless times for snacks and coffee.

Faith was there now, across the street at the café, sitting outside on the small wrought iron table underneath an umbrella. She wore a light pink sundress with thin shoulder straps and her hair in two braids. Faust wanted to go over and sit down in front of her just to see her big eyes get wider or if she would fidget and stammer, blindsided by his sudden appearance. The sight of her, unaware he was across the street buying cigarettes at the corner store, soured his stomach.

Faust spent a minute preparing for what to say when he approached Faith, but his courage disappeared when a man took the seat across from her and reached out to hold her hand. It wasn't the Esders kid like he had feared. It was worse. He wore a black denim jacket, had long hair, and a face Faust automatically hated.

It was him. Faith was dating a knockoff version of himself.

Faust recognized the guy from around parties and shows. His name was Hunter. He was the kind of guy who bought unlicensed band patches online—the mark of a poser, in Faust's opinion. While the guy rubbed her wrist, Faust thought of one hundred ways to shatter his fingers. How dare he touch her like that, make her smile as he once had, and scoot closer to touch her inner thigh under the table. Faust grinned when she snapped her legs shut, and he snatched his hand away with what Faust assumed was an apology. Good. So she wasn't letting him get too handsy with her yet. Not like when they were together, and she would let him drag her away to any solitary place, so he could touch her between her legs and watch her melt.

But Hunter was not him, and Faith probably hadn't changed. If her libido was the same since they'd met, the chances were high she had already fucked him, and the thought of Hunter having sex with her blistered the inside of his chest. He wanted to grab him by his greasy hair and smash his face into the table so many times he became unrecognizable. The anger itched his palms, his back sweating.

Before Faust acted on his violent thoughts, he turned away and started home, swearing he would never seek Faith out again, though his heart seared from the pain of making himself such a promise.

It wasn't long before Faust saw her again in much closer proximity. One month after he had promised never to think about Faith again—a delusionally optimistic notion—she showed up at a party with Hunter and his buddies, who took various band formations between them. Faust had been in a crust punk band with one of them, failing to play lead guitar. It was a short-lived project, but he still recognized the group. He pretended not to notice Faith, hoping his nonchalance would strike her when she looked up from her phone and realized she had once again stepped into his realm, where she was the outcast, and everyone revered him. She likely heard some news about his tour with Grey Tomb since everyone else was asking him questions about the size of the gigs he had played overseas. In a small house full of a dozen musicians, their girlfriends, and buddies, Faust was the most successful one there, earning him instant popularity. On a regular day, Faust would shun the attention, but now, he craved to wield it; to show her what he had become in the year they'd been apart.

Faith whispered to her new boyfriend and never looked too long at Faust for the first hour. Faust turned it into a game. He looked at her until her eyes ping-ponged from him to a random object in the room, catching her each time she glanced in his direction. It was fun to watch her squirm and fidget. He knew what she was thinking: that being around him as though they were strangers was too heavy for her to act normal.

Two hours in, after Faust had left the room to keep her mind racing, he saw Faith whispering to her new boyfriend in the kitchen between chugs of beer. She was compensating now. Faith hated beer. He flashed the barest smirk as he passed by, never lifting his eyes but knowing her in his peripheral. Yet despite all these things he knew about her, there was a second or third voice in his head trying to calculate what exactly she could be thinking. Did she hate him? Was her night ruined? Was his presence shaking her to her core, or was she succeeding at brushing it off? She couldn't have changed that much in a year, and if she was the same girl he had fallen in love with, her inner dialogue was screaming. And as much as he wanted to catch a hint of their conversation, the music was too loud, and Faust longed to continue ignoring her.

After three hours, Faust was drunk, and the people talking in his ear made him cringe. He had gone around and around on a carousel of shifting emotions. At first, it was easy not to care, but then he saw her staring at him and wanted to stare back. As the drinks poured and it was clear nobody would address the awkward situation between them, Hunter put his arm around her, an innocent move that Faust regarded as a personal slight. How fucking dare he touch his Faith.

No, he told himself. Let her go. She's better off without you.

Then, a hand was on her thigh. Her skirts that once drove him wild now looked whorish. Did she want every man in the room looking at her? And again, Faust screamed internally at himself to leave her be.

But he couldn't, and deep down, they both knew it was only a matter of time before he snapped.

It happened when Faust, who considered his near-constant observation of them subtle, saw Hunter pull her face forward for a kiss. His heart leaped, and with it, his body instantly at attention, the half-drunk beer bottle now brown shards on the floor. Everyone stopped what they were doing. Hunter barely noticed over the music, but Faith had. She flinched as Faust approached like a train and snatched Hunter up by his jacket lapels.

"Who the fuck do you think you are kissing her in front of me?"

"Stop it right now, Faust. Don't be an idiot!" Faith yelled, butting her palm into his leather-clad shoulder. It only angered him further.

"Woah, man! What the fuck is your problem? You've been broken up forever," said Hunter, clutching at the fist pressing into his neck.

"Faust, dude, don't. Just relax."

Faith hammered Faust's shoulder again. "Let go of him, you prick! We're over!"

Faust immediately dropped Hunter and turned to her, angling down to meet her glower.

"What, I leave for one tour, and now you're with discount me? That's sad, Faith—"

One hard punch to the jaw sent Faust staggering backward, disoriented. Once he blinked away the lights in his eyes, Faith knew there was only one second to get between Faust and Hunter to prevent blood from spilling. Faust's friends had the same idea and held the drummer back, crowding between them to stop a fight.

Faust pointed at Hunter as he was carried away and said, "You better run. You better never let me see you again, or you're fucking dead. Run, motherfucker!"

Outside, Faust screamed. He howled on the sidewalk for Hunter to come out while lights from neighboring houses flicked on. His friends begged him to be quiet, but Faust was undone by his anger and echoing in every direction, ignoring those yelling at him to shut up. He attempted to break the barrier his friends made and hopped up excitedly when the door opened, hoping it was the man whose face he was about to demolish.

Faith stepped out alone, and Faust went quiet. She marched down the walkway, and they parted to allow her access to her flailing ex-boyfriend. She grabbed his arm, sank her nails into the leather, and yanked him away from the house. His friends stood by, muttering and confused. The two of them did not turn back.

~*~

"Sit down. We have to have a serious discussion, Faust. I mean it. Sit down on the bench and listen," said Faith. "You cannot act that way just because I moved on. It's not fair to me! I want to be happy, and you have no right to try ruining that."

Faust paced the length of the bench. "You're not fucking happy."

"Yes, I am!"

"No, you're not. You're pretending. You're a fucking fake. You don't hang around these kinds of people. You came tonight just to piss me off."

"I came here because Hunter and I were invited. I had no idea you'd be here. Otherwise, I definitely wouldn't have come."

"Fuck off, Faith."

"No, you fuck off! What're you gonna do, Faust? Kill him?"

Faust smothered her mouth with his hand and backed her under the tree's shadow away from the lamplight.

"Don't even fucking—don't say that."

Faith pushed him away. "I'm seriously asking. I have no idea what you might do, but I know what you're capable of, and it scares me. You have to promise me you won't hurt Hunter."

"No promise."

"If you can't let me be, I might have to do something drastic."

Faust scoffed. "Oh, yeah? Like what?"

"Like... File a restraining order," Faith said.

Her eyebrows pressed together, and though encased in shadow, Faust could not believe he was seeing her face again. He took a step closer, and she drew up against the tree.

"I can't have you around. If I see him touching you, I will lose my fucking mind, don't you understand? I love you, Faith. I'm afraid of myself when you're not with me."

"That's not my problem."

Faust had barely chipped at her. She crossed her arms, glare unrelenting. No matter how hard he drilled, Faith wouldn't soften for him.

"So that's it then? You're over me?" He asked.

Faith held up her hand and flashed a plain gold ring. "See this? He gave it to me. It's a promise ring."

"A promise to what? Marry you? You're gonna marry him, is that it?"

"Maybe!"

"That cheap little piece of shit ring means nothing, and you know it."

"It has meaning because I give it meaning."

"Okay then, let me ask you something, and be honest," Faust bent at the knees to match her level. "Do you still have the collar I gave you?"

Faith grimaced.

"Tell me the truth. Do you have it? Because that collar means you already belong to someone."

"No, it doesn't! I broke up with you!"

"You haven't gotten rid of it."

"What does it matter?"

"Faith, please," Faust whimpered. "Please, just... I'll never stop. I can't. I've fucking tried."

"Never stop what?"

"Being in love with you."

She dropped her fists to her sides, looking down at her shoes. Faust thought she looked ready to blow up, but instead, she sniffled and began to cry.

Faust cradled her jaw like thin glass balancing in his palms. To his relief, Faith didn't flinch away.

"Tell me you still love me." He whispered. "I know you do, baby."

She whimpered his name and fell into his embrace, sobs quaking through her shoulders. Faust propped her up in his arms and set her back on her feet. Despite her anguish, he fought a smile from spreading across his face. Soon, Faith's blubbering petered into chuckles, and she wiped her wet eyes.

"You really still love me, Faust?"

"Yes, baby! Fucking of course I do."

"Did you come back here because of me?"

"You're the only thing keeping me in this place."

"I... I really missed you, beetle."

Faust clamped her to his chest, stroking her soft hair, her warmth so familiar yet unearned. His eyes clouded as he looked down at the woman crying into his chest, stuck like a burr on his clothes. Her tears seeped through the fabric, and he loved it. The wet spots made his breath falter. A vast calmness silenced the screams in the back of his head, which reminded him of all the terrible he had done. With Faith by his side once more, he was determined to bury their voices and live as though his secrets were only false memories.

~*~

Faith and Faust had made a getaway from the party and went to Faust's basement apartment in a small complex. The place was new and smelled of fresh paint, and when Faith walked in and saw a mostly empty area, the juxtaposition made her head spin and her heart pound. There he was after all this time, a foot of space between his head and the ceiling, his black leather jacket on in front of white, unmarred walls. It was wrong, but watching him shedding his jacket and revealing how thick his arms looked from touring made it seem like they hadn't been apart more than a couple of weeks. It was natural, and she went to him, prepared to deal with the consequences of ditching her current boyfriend for this reunion of two warring energies who thrived only on each other.

He kissed her softly at first, pulled back to assess her expression, and went back in harder when met with a drowsy half-smile. His hand went up her skirt, tracing his fingertips over her panties until her knees shook.

Faith pulled away and said, "I wanna fuck you." Faust needed no convincing. He sat on the bed, dragged her onto his lap, facing away from him, and pulled off her top and bra. Before taking her breasts in his hands, he peeled off his Grey Tomb shirt and cupped them enthusiastically.

"Fuck, baby. Just... Fuck. I missed you so much."

"I missed you too," she said, craning her neck to catch his lips again.

She ground in circles on his lap until he was hard and moaning, her addiction to the sound of his voice afresh. Exhilarated by the thought of having sex with her first love again, Faith scrambled under the covers and waited, her smile slowly fading as Faust pulled a strip of three gold-foiled condoms from his wallet. She frowned as though he had revealed something nauseating.

"What the fuck is that look for?" Faust scoffed, tearing open the foil square.

"I... what is that? I don't want that...I want to feel you."

"That's too bad," he said.

Faith scoffed back at him. "I don't have any diseases."

"We've been away from each other for over a year. I don't know what you've done. If I'm fucking you, we're using a rubber."

"But—"

"Besides... You don't know where my cock's been either."

It was a bizarre sight watching him unravel the wet latex circle over his thick cock inch by inch. Faith had never heard of him using condoms before and hadn't used one with him even the first time.

Faust laid down and urged her to climb over him, and though she looked upset, she still swung her leg over his hips and stared down at the latex straining around his shaft.

"You fucked other girls?" She asked.

Faust grasped her thigh and pulled until she shimmied closer to his groin.

"Sit on it," Faust ignored her question. "Come on, baby. Ride it."

"Do we have to? I really wanted to feel you. All of you. Like how we used to fuck."

Faust rolled his eyes. "Don't be a brat, Faith. Or else."

"Or else what?"

"I'll put on two," Faust chuckled.

She swatted him, giggling. "Fine, if this is the only way you'll let me fuck you, I guess that'll have to do."

"That's right, get on it, baby. Easy, easy... Oh... Oh, fuck... Oh, fuck! Fuck, yes, beautiful. Never been so hard in my goddamn life. Fuck me, baby girl. That's it. Nice 'n slow. Good girl."

"Mmph. I forgot how big you are!"

"No, you fuckin' didn't. You remembered damn well how big my cock is. How I split this little pussy open."

Faith rocked herself back and forth with help from his hands on her hips. He screwed his eyes shut and bit his lip. Faith stared down at the man, lost in his pleasure, his mouth changing shapes every time she moved. He was right; Faith hadn't forgotten for a second what sex with him was like, or how beautiful he looked with his head thrown back in ecstasy, or the filthy things he said the moment he was inside. Faust knew it too.

"Did you think about me when you fucked him?" Faust asked, catching her in an awkward spot. Faith didn't expect him to bring up Hunter so soon, and certainly not during sex.

"I... I, um—"

"You can tell me the truth. Did he have a bigger cock than me?"

"N-no! I don't think anyone could. The condom is about to snap because of it. So, you might as well take it off and fuck me raw."

Faust flipped her over and drove himself inside her a few times, slow but hard. She squealed with each thrust.

"Condom stays on."

Faith had more tricks to try on him. "Then how are you supposed to cum inside of me?"

"Did you let him cum inside of you?"

"Faust!"

"I'm serious," he said, leaning down to talk against her cheek while ramming her pelvis and making her quiver. "Did he blow loads inside this pretty pussy? Did he make you shake and cry and cum all over his cock?"

"No, Faust," she whimpered. "I wouldn't let him."

"That's right. 'Cause it's still my pussy. He had his fun with you, but you're back where you belong now... All around my dick. Getting. Fucking. Stretched. Open."

"Make it hurt, baby."

Faust slammed his hips forward several times until she cried out, then eased back to a normal pace.

"You're mine. Fuck, you feel amazing. Pussy's so fucking tight around me. Shit, baby, I'm not gonna last."

Just as Faust approached a groaning orgasm, Faith's phone started ringing in her purse. She looked at the bag, then back at him.

"Is that him calling? Wondering where you are? He has no idea you're with me, does he?"

Faith chewed her lip and couldn't answer.

"I fucking knew it," he said proudly. "Go ahead. Answer the phone."

"What!? No! Faust, that's so mean."

"You're already cheating on him. Just answer the phone and pretend everything's normal."

"I can't."

"I'll take the condom off if you answer the phone while you fuck me. You can have this cock raw if you really want. Make me cum deep inside this perfect little pussy.

"Really?"

"Yes, babe. Go get the phone."

Faust let her up and dropped onto his back while she fished her phone out of her purse. She looked at the screen and scoffed.

"It's just a telemarketer."

"Aw, that's too bad."

"Can we still lose the condom?"

"No. I'm still wearing it."

"That's not fair! I was going to! That should count for something."

Faust stared at her perky nipples, soft curves, and sad face. He smirked something evil.

"What is it?" She asked.

"Call him. Call him and break up with him while you fuck me."

"No! That's so mean! I can't do that."

"Oh, but you can cheat on him perfectly fine?"

"You're not being fair."

Faust nodded at her, then at his groin. "Nothing's fair. Call him. But first, get your hand around my cock."

Just the sight of her fingers trying to fit around his condom-clad shaft made him seethe, and when she put the phone to her ear while slowly jerking him, his chest unfroze after months of being without her. He tried not to moan while she whispered to her fake boyfriend that she couldn't see him anymore. It just wouldn't work with Faust around. The motion of her left hand faltered as the guy's heart broke, and Faust eclipsed her and squeezed, encouraging her to yank off the condom in mid-sentence. Hunter asked, "So, what? Are you with him right now?" And Faust twitched from the blood surge, eyes rolling to the back of his sick head.

Faust got brave and started whispering, Faith scowling and mouthing at him to shut up.

"Yeah, stroke it, baby girl. No more condom. It's all fucking yours."

Faith held the phone away from her face and hissed at him to keep quiet again, wearing a bare hint of a smirk. His sick little girl. His corrupted angel. There she was, begging to come back to him.

He gripped her jaw and wrenched her forward, smothering her mouth and keeping her from answering Hunter's pleas.

"You're mine. Tell him," Faust whispered, licking her lips open to dip his thumb inside her mouth. Faith hummed remorsefully but sucked his thumb all the same, eyes going shiny as she stared into his beautiful green eyes. Whether she liked it or not, she had dreamed of this reunion. In sleep, she always found him with those murderous eyes staring at her like his next meal.

"Get on me."

Faith tossed her phone aside, thumb slipping and maybe not ending the call with Hunter. There was a pinch of guilt in her heart, and then it was gone. It was only him, the love of her life. She climbed over his lap, and his legs stirred beneath her, parting and spreading her thighs ever wider. Faust sank back into the pillows, squeezed her hips, and eased her onto his cock the only way he wanted. With a deep groan, he pulled her forward, rocked her back, and did it repeatedly until she caught the rhythm. Steady and slow.

"I fucking missed you, baby," Faust said.

Faith clung to him and rode desperately, breathing in his hair, kissing his lips, and hanging onto his broad shoulders for leverage. Their breath synced until Faust jutted his hips and struck a gasp from her.

"M-missed you too, beetle. God, I missed your cock."

Faust chuckled, dark and mischievous. "Oh, yeah? S'that all you missed about me, huh? You missed getting fucked hard?"

"I just missed you."

"Oh, I'm absolutely positive your pussy missed me."

Faith covered her mouth, but Faust grabbed her wrist and held it behind her back, bending his knees and bucking his hips upward at a frantic pace he could only sustain for short bursts. It was worth the effort to hear her groaning.

"Don't get all shy. You know I love it when you talk dirty to me."

"I don't know what to say."

"Tell me how you'd close your eyes when he fucked you and pretend it was me."

The scenario was pure fact. Faith had pictured Faust in Hunter's place nearly every day. But the shame overcame her, and she buried her face in his neck and muttered, "Don't make me say it, Faust. You know I did."

His arms encircled her, and he set off on a motion that brought him close to the brink of orgasm. Before he touched the edge, he pressed his forehead to hers and commanded her eyes.

"Rub your clit, baby girl. Do it for me. I want you to cum."

"Mm...Okay."

"That's right. Make it feel good and cum on me."

Faith tried to get close, holding her breath and concentrating on her task until Faust took over. He used two fingers to rub her clit, slowly at first, then quicker. He alternated until he found the right pace, and she moaned. With his cock ramming upward, his hand working its dexterity on her, and his other hand gripping and spanking her ass, Faust coaxed an orchestral orgasm from her that ended in gasping heaves and whimpers that tipped him over the edge too. Hearing her desperate mewls while she tightened around him was the only thing that could ever make him cum. No other woman came close. Even with his eyes shut and Faith on his mind, they simply weren't her.

Under a wash of afterglow, Faith lay on top of him and relaxed to the pulse in his chest and neck. The regrets were sure to come, but it didn't matter. Faust and the appetizing danger that came with him were back.

"I'm so bad," Faith said after a few minutes of deep breathing.

"Yeah... You really are. Cheating on your boyfriend and getting fucked raw... Taking all my fucking cum in your pussy. You're a nasty girl."

"Don't make it worse!"

"You made it what you wanted. You're the one who was all like, 'Please fuck my pussy raw, Faust. Ew, I hate condoms. I know you were gone for a year, but I don't care where that cock's been'!"

"You love me. I know you wouldn't do it if you weren't sure."

Faust played with her hair and chuckled.

"You're right."

"For the record... you're still the only man who's ever cum inside me."

"Damn fucking right. Now, it's quiet time. I'm spent."

"No round two?"

He rolled her over onto her side, pulled her close, and kissed her forehead. "In the morning. I need sleep."

"But—"

"Sleep, brat."

"Alright, fine."

"...I love you."

"I love you, too."

[frozenfischer]

“Far be it for me to dictate how you handle dealing with the past,” Alex replied quietly as she gestured to the couch, taking a seat even as she encouraged Gaster to do the same. “But sometimes… things that you want to keep buried have a tendency to resurface when you least expect it. And often when it's least wanted.”

Taking Gaster's hand in her own, she cradled it between both of her palms. Having seen his reaction to her touch thus far, she decided it was safe enough to offer this continued gesture of support and comfort.

“I won't pressure you. Not on this. I may not be the best person to give you what you need in terms of closure for that period of your life, as much as I wish I could.”

Alex took a deep breath, closing her eyes as she thought on what she wanted to say. Once she felt she had the words, she looked back up at Gaster, resolve in her eyes.

“That said, I've listened to you thus far. If you do find yourself wanting, or needing rather, to get the thoughts and memories off your chest, then I'm here for you. Even if all I can offer is condolences and comfort.”

Her voice trailed off, and she glanced out the window, gazing out into a world dimming with the coming twilight.

“Well, if I had to make a guess, something in you felt the need to confront whatever it was you left behind. Maybe you felt the need to make it real in your memory? Or to remind yourself that things have changed, and this wasn't part of the dream? I know you said Void dreams tend to leave you very disoriented.”

Frowning, Alex's hands tightened briefly around Gaster's own.

“In any case, why don't you lay down for a bit. Even if you don't actually sleep, it might help. Your exhaustion's only going to make things worse. Meanwhile I can start whipping something up to eat. I'm sure you need that too.”

Gaster doesn’t hesitate for even a second before taking the offered hand, holding it as tightly as he can manage (which admittedly isn’t very tight).

The light in his eye goes out at her saying he’s never much talked about the war, and he takes a shaky breath before it flickers back in.

❝THAT’S BECAUSE IT’S BETTER LEFT IN THE PAST,❞ he says grimly, ❝I TRY NOT TO EVEN THINK ABOUT IT, MOST OF THE TIME. OR EVERYTHING I LOST-❞ his voice catches, ❝… YOU KNOW HOW THERE’S ONLY THREE SKELETONS LEFT IN THE ENTIRE WORLD? WELL. THERE’S A REASON FOR THAT.❞

If he let himself think about the war often, he’d be just as consumed by it as he was in the early days underground.

❝I’LL REST, OF COURSE I JUST…❞ he shakes his head, ❝I DON’T THINK I COULD SLEEP IF I TRIED RIGHT NOW.❞

There’s too much going on in his head right now to try to sleep, even if he doesn’t have any ability to explain most of those thoughts, even if he wanted to.

The second hug is just as much a surprise as the first, but just welcome, and he finds himself holding onto the back of her shirt to try to keep her there.

And then the permission to wake her and the promise that she would be upset almost bearings tears to his eyes. He barely manages to reel those back before she’s pulling away again.

❝THANK YOU, ALEX. I’LL TRY TO REMEMBER THAT NEXT TIME.❞

The question of if there’s anything she can do to help right now gives him pause. How can she help when he only half understand what’s even wrong?

Staying with him, obviously. He really hadn’t known how much his nightmare had been affecting him still until she touched him, and he doesn’t feel ready to be left alone.

But beyond that?

❝I’M NOT SURE,❞ he says softly, pulling up on his scarf again, ❝I STILL DON’T EVEN KNOW WHY I WENT UP THERE…❞

[overclockedroulette]

🌱Invi- but in terms of like. Strange Nostalgia or Reoccurring Dreams of someone she sees but has never Met before to her knowledge

🌱 SEEDLING - what is their most vivid memory from childhood?

literally none nice try idiot

[hazbbyhaz]

sleepless || harry styles

twenty six

pairing: harry styles x OC

synopsis: an emotional night

disclaimer: nightmares, child abuse, blood, descriptions of child abuse, kissing

The mind returns in dream

-Amy Bonner

"Did you know that Queen Victoria had a 14 year old stalker who broke into Buckingham Palace at least four times?"

"I didn't know that." Harry mumbles, turning himself on his side to look at Avery. She is lying on her back, eyes trained on the ceiling, saying anything that comes across her mind.

"Apparently he even stole her underwear once!"

"Avery, we’re supposed to sleep." There was a small bat of silence after Harry’s statement. In truth, Avery had been doing everything she could to avoid sleeping, despite agreeing to rest.

"Oh right" She murmurs, closing her eyes before opening them again. "I’m sorry. What time is it? Is it morning yet?"

"It must be around 1am."

"That's not close to morning at all," Her lips start to quiver at the realization. He watches as she takes two deep breaths, shuts her eyes, and turns to face him; the quivering coming to a stop.

"can't we drink a cup of tea? I always sleep better with tea."

Harry can hear the desperation in her voice. He can see her clinging to any possible scenario that will keep her awake. Every possibility that will prolong the inevitable. She needs sleep. At this point, more than anything.

“You’ve had more than enough tea for the night. We can make more in the morning. But first, we have to sleep." Right outside the window streetlights cast ambient light upon Avery's bedroom. The golden rays dance across her face so elegantly; so gently.

Her eyes are trained on something Harry can’t see, but he is acutely aware of her. He can see the three freckles that have made themselves home on her nose, the heart shape of her lips, the cerulean blue hue of her eyes. He’s never seen anything more beautiful in his entire life.

If only he could take a photograph. Try to capture this moment in its entirety, in all of its beauty. Show them how amazing these small, intimate moments are. Or maybe he didn't want that. Maybe he just wanted to keep her close. Keep this for him, and only him.

"What about my Valerian pills? They help me fall asleep."

"Love, don’t they make it worse?"

"Sometimes, but at least I'll be asleep." Her eyes finally trail up to his own. While his are calm and reassuring, hers are filled with fear. Fear that runs deeper than he could ever imagine.

"What do you dream about, Ave?" His fingers caress her cheek, he can feel her breath hitch as he gently brushes her hair behind her ear.

"I’ve never told anyone," She mutters, her eyes never leaving his own. Not for a second. "not anyone I cared about."

"Then let me be the first" With his hands on her cheeks, his eyes fall to her rosy lips. The familiar urge to kiss her resurfaces, flowing from his head to his toes. But he can’t, he knows he can’t. What they have is too delicate to risk.

From the moment that he had met her, he knew that she was alone. He has never seen her with anyone else, never seen her receive a text message or a phone call. To his knowledge, she doesn’t step foot out of her flat unless something important warrants her to do so.

Deep down, he knows that he is all that she’s got. The only person who is there for her in any true sense. The last thing he wants to do is ruin what they’ve created by giving in to his own urges.

Regardless of Harry's string of thoughts, their eyes meet. Sky blue on forest green. As Avery's eyes trail down to his lips, he slowly leans forward, pressing his lips to her own. The kiss is delicate and soft. With his calloused hands gently cupping her cheeks, Avery feels like that of porcelain. Like a fragile piece of glass someone is terrified to drop.

His hands drop from her face to her hip, pulling her impossibly closer. She grabs at his shirt, heavy breaths escaping as their lips briefly part. They are so close to one another, entangled with each other in every way they could, but it isn’t close enough.

His lips taste like earl grey tea and peppermint gum, a blend Avery didn’t know could be so addictive. Her lips taste of bitter coffee, but he doesn’t mind. They’re hers, that’s all that matters.

A few moments later Harry pulls back. He rests his forehead atop her own, leaving a gentle kiss to her nose as they both regain their breaths. Harry's thoughts diminish as he focuses on what’s happening now. The present. It’s only now that he can really see just how Avery is reacting. Her hands are latched tightly to his shirt, desperately trying to pull him closer. Harry's gentle call of her name does nothing to aid in her growing frustration.

He lets her pull him in once again, their lips reconnecting in a more heated kiss. She bites down on his lower lip, letting him know that he can continue. Harry slowly turns them over, leaning up with his elbows on either side of Avery's head, Avery laying on her back. And they kiss. Averys lips continue locking with his own because this feeling is so different from how numb she has felt. How she has been feeling for far too long.

For the first time that Avery can remember, she feels alive. Feeling Harry's lips on hers, feeling the warmth of his skin underneath her touch, it feels like home. Like comfort and safety, like last minute trips to the beach and drinking tea at house parties. It feels like everything finally coming together.

If only she could stay here for the rest of her life - stay right here, in this moment. Forever. Then everything would be alright. No worries, no mean girls, no nightmares, no sleepless nights. None of it. She would be okay. She could handle every thought spiral, every mean word, every single doubt, if she knew that she could come home to this. Know that she could feel Harry's lips on hers at the end of the day.

The small sounds Avery is emitting make Harry slow his movements down "Ave..." he mumbles in between kisses. “Hey hey hey, it’s okay… slow down, love. It’s okay.”

She can’t look into his eyes, he sees the tears welling up in them. Her whimpers only grow louder once she knows that he is aware of them, worrying him even more. In an effort to calm her, Harry starts trailing kisses down her face.

“I’m not going to hurt you… I am never going to hurt you… I don't ever want to do that.” She hasn’t said a word to him in an alarming amount of time, not letting him know what is going on in her head. His kisses trail down her jaw before pressing softly into her neck, right above her pulse point. “Talk to me, love. Please say something…”

“You will leave…” She says it so quietly that he almost misses it. But when those three words hit his ears his own eyes begin to water. He immediately stops his actions, softly cupping her cheeks in his hands. Her lips quivers once again before she whispers “I don’t want you to leave, Harry.”

"I won’t, Avery. I’m not going to leave." He reassures her, pushing another strand of hair out of her face as a few tears roll down her cheeks. "Look at me, please... I know you’re scared, I know. This is something new for the both of us, and new things are always scary."

"God I'm pathetic," Harry wipes the tears away from her cheeks, looking down at the girl below him with empathetic eyes. "I'm sorry"

“It’s okay. You’re not pathetic. If anyone here is pathetic, it’s me because I am just so smitten by you!”

Avery giggles as Harry presses one final kiss to her lips, both of them smiling into it like lovesick idiots. His arms wrap around her before turning them over, settling into a comfortable silence.

“Are you going to be able to sleep?” Avery nods her head, looking up at Harry.

"Do you promise you’ll wake me?" Her head is lying on his chest, right above his heart, and his arm is tightly wrapped around her petite frame.

"I'll wake you, I promise."

“Mommy!” I cry, hitting the cellar door with my fists. I can see a little bit of light from under the door, it shines on the staircase all the way down to the floor. I’ve been trying to get her to come here for a while, I don’t know if she can hear me.

“Mommy! it’s really cold…” I still don’t hear her. Hitting the door that many times makes both of my hands hurt. I sit up against the wall next to the door, shivering. The wall is just as cold as everything else. The stones in it hurt my back as I sit.

I got to talk to Daddy on the phone a couple days ago, and he said we would go to the park today. I really want to go, but I don’t know where he is. I don’t want to be here anymore, not with Mommy. I just want to go upstairs to my room. Sleep in my bed with all my stuffed animals and my blankie. Maybe I could stay with Daddy after the park.

“Can I please have my blankie?… Please, Mommy. It’s really really cold!” Sheepy is sitting against the wall opposite me. I grab him and hold him close to my chest. “Are you cold, Sheepy?” I pet his fur, but it’s not as soft as it used to be, and he is missing one of his button eyes. It fell off earlier today.

“Don’t worry, Daddy is gonna take us to the park soon. He promised, remember?”

There is a very loud noise and I scream as the door slams open. Before I can move out of the way, I am falling down the stairs. My head hits the wall and all it’s stones many times before I hit the bottom. I open my eyes and see the bottom of the staircase, my eyes all blurry as I cry out to Mommy. She is standing all the way at the door.

“Mommy!” I try to walk towards her, but my head is so dizzy I can barely move. As soon as I stand I fall back down again. “Please let me out… I know i’ve been bad, but Daddy wants to take me to-“

“Your Father isn’t coming today, so be quiet! For god's sake, how many times do I have to tell you to stop screaming!” She starts walking down the stairs.

“But he promised he would…” All of a sudden I can hear a loud slap, Mommy’s hand hitting my cheek really hard. My ears start to ring as my head hits the hard concrete floor. She stands over me as I keep crying. I can see Sheepy laying on his side not far from me.

"Listen! I don't care what your father said, I need you to be quiet. Understood?"

"Yes, mommy. But can you fix Sheepys eye? Please? It fell off earlier and I can’t put it back on." I grab Sheepy and hold him out to her, she takes him out of my hand. I pull his button eye out of my pocket, keeping it in my hand. "Here's his eye."

Mommy huffs, looking at Sheepy but then she turns around and starts walking up the stairs, his eye still in my hand.

"No! NO! Mommy, the button, you have to take his eye to fix him! He can’t see without his eye! Please don't take Sheepy away from me, please!" I stand up super fast, still very dizzy, and try to walk to the stairs. But Mommy is too far away to hear me and I can’t reach her anymore. I can hear the door close; leaving me down here all by myself.

I lay back down on the floor, it feels even colder down here now. My whole body hurts. I am cold and all alone.

Avery wakes up without a sound. Everything is silent; impossibly still. The silhouette of a tree looms over the room, encasing the space in it’s dark, sinister shadow.

Hot, heavy tears stream down her face, her breath beginning to quicken. Every inch of her body hurts, every movement awakening an ache she didn’t know was there. But of course it hurts, the fall just happened yesterday. How couldn’t it hurt? No body could heal after only a few hours time from something like that. She can feel bruises beginning to bloom beneath her skin, no doubt covering most of her body.

Her anxious eyes roam over her surroundings. She is not locked in the cellar, but sitting atop a bed. It is still cold, so very cold, but comfortable and familiar. She can’t quite place it. Only now is the body laying peacefully by her side of notice to her. Harry is still asleep, his head resting mere inches from her thigh. Harry… where did he come from? Has he just arrived? Did he see the bruises?

The sound of a car backfiring rang through the silence, making Avery jump and her head shoot to the window overlooking the London street. her motion startled Harry awake, he began to stir beside her.

His eyes opened slowly, his gaze falling upon her figure. She was visibly shaking, tears streaming down her face. She looked terrified. At this sight, he was wide awake, quickly sitting upwards.

"Oh Avery, I'm sorry I-I didn't hear you-"

"My arm hurts really bad, Harry." She whimpers, cradling her left arm to her chest. "It hurts so much."

"Where does it hurt?" He carefully reaches out to her, his fingers softly brushing over her skin. To the touch, she was ice cold. No wonder she was shivering.

"Everything hurts…" Harry slowly pulls her towards him, encasing her shivering figure in two blankets before settling her body between his outstretched legs, wrapping both of his arms around her. His hands are rubbing up and down the expanse of her back, the motion attempting to soothe all the distress. Her head rests between his neck and shoulder.

"Yesterday... she pushed me down the stairs," Her cries grew to hiccuping sobs, her breath irregular and too fast for her lungs to process. Harry freezes at her words.

Yesterday... she pushed me down the stairs.

"And now everything hurts, Harry. Look at all the bruises." Her words are spoken through heartbreaking sobs. He looks over her, searching for any evidence of the fall, but nothing can be seen. There aren't any bruises on her, no visible ones anyway. Just her cold, pale, flawless skin. She's hallucinating, she thinks her dream happened yesterday.

Yesterday... she pushed me down the stairs.

"It's going to be okay, Ave... just breathe" Harry murmurs into her hair, his hand resting gently on the back of her head, lightly pushing it farther into his neck. And as Avery concentrates on her breathing, tears fill Harry's eyes, quietly running down his cheeks.

Yesterday... she pushed me down the stairs.

"Look... the bruises are already gone." He lifts her blankets ever so slightly, letting his fingertips run over her skin. Harry delicately lifts her arm to his lips, pressing soft kisses to it. Starting at her hands, he trails them all the way up to her shoulder before moving to the other arm. "No more bruises, angel. See?"

Yesterday... she pushed me down the stairs.

She nods slowly, pressing her head against his racing heart, her tears now beginning to dry on her raw cheeks. After a few minutes, Harry can feel her stable breaths against his neck. The small puffs of warm air signalling that she has fallen back asleep.

Yesterday... she pushed me down the stairs.

Harry looks down at her, replaying what has just occurred over in his mind. He leans his head down, Kissing the top of Averys head as all of it catches up with him. He can’t help the sob that escaped his lips, the weight of it shaking his chest, tears falling from his eyes.

At the sudden movement, Avery shoots up. Raising her head to look at him, her eyes meeting his own. A worried expression plastered across her tear stained face.

"What’s happened?" She exclaims, her hands coming up to rest on his cheeks, eyes searching what could have caused him to cry. "Harry, don't cry... is everything alright? Please tell..."

Yesterday... she pushed me down the stairs.

That's enough for him to know that she doesn't remember waking up. Doesn't remember crying to him about all the pain. Telling him what happened. "It's nothing," He manages to let out, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead, then her nose, before leaving a lingering one on her lips. "I'm just so happy that you're here with me. That you’re safe."

"I'm happy too." She smiles softly. She wants to press further about what has happened, but she knows now is not the right time. Harry laces their fingers together before bringing their joined hands to his lips, trying his hardest to push all of this out of his mind.

It takes half an hour for the both of them to get settled into bed again. Harry leaving Avery's side only to steep her a cup of peppermint tea. With time, she fell back asleep, this one being dreamless. With her finally at rest, Harry was left awake, watching over her carefully. His hand rests atop her cheek, his thumb carting over the soft skin, letting her know that he is right by her side.

Yesterday... she pushed me down the stairs.

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[summerofsnowflakes]

1. Tipsy Decisions

Summary: Y/n and Daveed has been flirty friends for a while, she decides to make them a little more than just friends after getting a lil bit drunk. 

Daveed Diggs x Reader 

Word Count: 2K 

Warnings: 18+ There is some smut. 

A/N: This was purely a self indulgent story for myself after a pretty crappy evening.   Enjoy 

Although the night was young, you had already managed to get a tipsy far too early. You and your friends were out for a chilled night at a bar in the city, convinced at this stage you had surpassed that club lifestyle. However, even in the early stages of the night the group got louder and actions got sillier, if you were being honest with yourselves, you couldn't further from the truth. As you sat around the table chatting you noticed the missing presence of two very important members of the group, Rafael and Daveed. You and Daveed had the flirty banter friendship thing going perfectly, but there was something between you but neither of you seemed ready to take this further than that for the time being. Maybe tonight could change that.

"Earth you Y/n." The sound of your friend's voice bought you back to reality.

"Sorry what?" You asked, you could feel your body heating up.

You were met with a knowing look. "And who were you thinking of then huh missy? They asked in a teasing tone.

You glared, they were very aware of your situation. "I doubt I need to say it really, but I'm going to sleep with Daveed."

"Excuse me?" You were met with an amused look.

You repeated yourself. "Tonight's the night, I am going home with Daveed. Providing he's happy with that of course. "

"Good one sis." You know your firend saw it as a joke because you had said this before, countless times actually and you always chicken out. You ignored the disbelief in their voice and focused on letting the liquid courage relax you and enjoyed the nervous buzz as you impatiently waited for Daveed and Rafa to arrive.

You were not disappointed by the sight you were met with as he made his way over your table, he was dressed in a plaid cuffed trousers and white dress shirt that was tight enough that it accentuated his arms. His signature curls bounced as he stepped. You felt like you your skin was buzzing in anticipation. Daveed always looked good but tonight was another level, you were already so gone for him. He managed to land himself in a chair next to you and you were hit with his cologne as he pulled you into a hug to say hello. You wanted to melt into his touch right there, but you pulled yourself back and acted as though he wasn't having this effect on you. You reveled in the attention he focused on you, and flirted with him non stop, you left light touches on his arm and you made sure he had a good shot of your cleavage. You did your best to be more full on than normal, in the hopes he would catch on, it certainly didn't go unnoticed by Rafael and Daveed as they shot each other unspoken looks about your behaviour.

You and the girls had decide dance as the drinks continued to flow, while the remaining friends stayed sitting, they changed up seats to so they could chat over the music in the bar. You weren't aware but Daveed couldn't take his eyes off you. Your not so subtle tactics had really been paying off for him and he was entranced as  swayed your hips to the beat and sang along, you were having the best time but it was time to set you plan in motion. You 'accidentally' tripped right by where he was sitting so that as you fell you landed in his lap, you giggled loudly.

"You okay Y/n? you didn't hurt yourself?" He looked at you with concern and he naturally placed his hands on your body.

Still laughing you replied as sweetly as you could. "I'm fine, sorry hun total accident. Thank you for cushioning my fall though." You ran hand down the opening of his shirt and hooked your fingers around his necklace, ghosting your fingers over his chest as you spoke.

He laughed back still holding onto your body. "Anytime sweetheart."

"I must say though Diggs, you look positively fantastic with me on top of you."

"Oh yeah? well you are a beautiful sight."

You looked away momentarily as you felt your shyness trying to creep back in. You shook her off quickly though before leaning in closer to him. "Can I tell you a secret D?" He leant in too before you continued. "I'd like to be on top of you without any clothes on."

Daveed coughed loudly as you spoke to drown out your words to the people around you, he looked around the group quickly to check whether you had been heard. His eyes flickered back to you, studying your face as he tried to figure out whether you're joking.

"I would let you take me right here if you would let me." You purred into his ear.

That was enough for him he felt the room spin at your words. "Meet me in the bathroom." He whispered back and you nodded giddily at your success.  

The next five minutes were a total blur and it wasn't until you were being pressed up against a cubical wall that your head resurfaced from the Daveed's intoxicating waters. You held on to him for dear life as he assaulted your lips and your neck with kisses, you were desperate for one another. One hand trailed down your body while his other hand was placed at the side of your head, you were trapped, not that you were trying to go anywhere. You deepened the kiss and you felt his hand reach under the short flowy dress and his fingers ghosted along your panties. You moaned at the mere contact with his hands on you and his other hand flew to your mouth.

"Y/n, baby. You need to be quiet darling or you're gunna get us in trouble." Unable to talk, you nodded in response.

He let go of your mouth and went back to work down below as he roughly kissed you again. He expertly moved your panties to the side and he ran his finger slowly over your clit, you could have come undone right there it. He moved slowly in a circular motion and your head fell back against the wall, your breathing increased at the pressure you felt on your most sensitive area. You heard the door to the bathroom swing open and you gasped as Daveed used this opportunity to slip his finger inside of you.

"Y/n. Are you okay? Do you need me to hold your hair back hun?" You heard one of your friends call out from the other side of the cubical. Your eyes widened and he smiled devilishly nodding at you to answer while he continued to expertly work you close to your orgasm with his fingers.

Through ragged breathing you found your voice, "I'm all good, just ummm. Just needed a minute to myself. I'll be out soon."

"Okay, well text me in you need me yeah?" She asked.

"Of course, thanks lovely."

When she had gone Daveed pulled his fingers out of you, teasingly slowly. Just as the knot in your stomach had began to form and you whined in response. Daveed ignored you and spoke softly and sweetly as though he didn't just have his fingers buried deep inside of you.  "Make an excuse to leave, I'll have an car out front in five. I'll go out first." He left with one more kiss to the lips. Needless to say your plan had gone way better than expected. You let out soft laugh to yourself about what had just happened, still in disbelief he left you in sexual suspense, half finished.  

By the time you had made your excuses, gotten the taxi to Daveed's flat and sat down on his sofa, you had more than enough time to feel more sober. In the cold light of the early hours of the morning your courage had diminished and you began to worry you had gone a bit too far with all of this. It seemed Daveed was in the same boat and as he handed you a glass of whiskey. Your hand brushed against his and you both chuckled to yourself about the whole evening. He powered through the awkwardness and sat himself down next to you, he started a conversation about something really random that helped you both feel more at ease. The drinks went down easy and the soft touches started back up again. Daveed's body called out to you and you couldn't resist him any longer. In a bold move you crawled into his lap to straddle him and ran your hands across his chiseled torso, he watched the movement of your hands very aware of his heavy breathing.

"Don't be nervous D, I told you earlier you look best when I am on top of you. Now stop fretting and kiss me." You brought your lips to meet his in a passionate kiss and both snapped back to the confident groove from earlier. In the heat of the kiss Daveed placed his hand firmly on your hips and moved you back and forth forcefully against the hardness of his cock. You both moaned at the sensation of the friction caused by your movements and you began to take over, grinding into him to show how much you were craving his touch.

Through the ragged breathing Daveed whispered in your ear. "Not that I am not enjoying this Y/n, but I want to finish what I started earlier for you Y/n? Clearly you itching with anticipation." His words sent a shudder down your spine and your cursed him silently for being so cocky even if he was right.

"Please." Was the only response you could manage as your body ached for his touch. He answered your prayers but teasingly so, he ran his hand up and down your body before slipping his hand under your dress for the second time that evening. This time lightly grazed his fingers agonizingly slow along your leg  and you wriggled in response trying to get him to touch you. He chucked lowly at your impatience. "Y/n you're body is so irresistible to me, let me enjoy touching you and I promise I'll get you there."

You let go of your impatience and allow him to have his way and when you were least expecting it he inserted his finger deep inside of you and you cried out in pleasure. He started off moving in and out slowly and you allowed him to have full control of your body. You whispered his name along with a full list of profanities. You started rocking yourself back and forth in time with his finger and he added another finger inside of you. You were a full on mess on top of him riding his hand and chasing your much needed relief, still pent up from earlier. Daveed looked up at you in total awe as did all the work yourself, his trousers grew incredibly tight. When sensed you were getting close he added a third finger and with his other hand he reached for your clit and massaged in a circular motion going at the same pace you were riding his hand.  Within second you were coming undone on top of him the pleasure sent shockwaves through your body as you rode out your high out slower now you had fallen over the edge.

As you came back down to earth you opened your eyes that had been screwed shut for who knows how long and Daveed is already smiling up and you. He looked proud of himself and you let out a breathless laugh.

"Girl, you have got me so gone. That was the hottest thing I've ever seen." Daveed spoke gleefully before leaning in and kissing you once again. "You think you can take another one?"

You smiled back at him, still floating. "D, I'm completely at your mercy."

That was all he needed to hear.

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Forging A Heart (Ivar the Boneless) 5- Replaceable

Pairings: Ivar x Artemis (OFC)

Word Count: 2154

Warnings: Light dream violence?

4- Distaste

...

She could hear herself breathing, her heart rate accelerating at inhuman speed. Her eyes were closed. She was afraid to open them in fear of seeing the horrors of a living hell.

She felt a wetness about her bare feet that seeped between her toes, warm and sticky. The scent of iron was strong in the air. Glancing down she opened her eyes slowly, gagging at the sight of the pools of rich blood surrounding her, as well as the bodies of the holy men thrown about with arrows embedded into them. She stared wide eyed at the massacre, lifting up the hem of her white dress to see it covered in the red of the monks.

The pristine walls of the monestary were covered in the blood of its men that worshipped within its walls. The statues of the saints melt away into the bloody mess on the marble floors, and the gold she had welded with her own two hands were gone.

Artemis let's out a sob, willing the screams in the distance to stop, for the madness to stop...and then there was silence.

Somehow the silence was worse than the screams.

"It is beautiful, don't you agree?" She whipped around quickly, staring into eyes of endless blue oceans that would surely drown her.

Ivar stood tall, looming over her like a great oak tree, a long bow in his hands. Blood streamed down his face and into his eyes, but he didn't seem to care.

To see him at his full height and not crawling about on the ground set a fear in her heart. Before she could do anything, he stretches the bow string as far as he could with a wild grin, releasing the arrow with lightning speed, and then, she saw nothing.

...

"Wake up, you lazy cunt, you're dreaming again!" The hits of the wooden spoon were enough to jolt Artemis into conscienceness. Sweat rolled down her brow and her breathing was erratic. It was still dark out, not yet sunrise.

"There she is, now get up, the Prince's should be waking soon and the hall must be spotless. Wouldn't want Ivar to cut that pretty little face of yours, hmm?"

Artemis rubbed the sleep from her eyes, doing her best to ignore Edda, the head thrall of the household. She was a feisty older woman with an unpleasant tone who had worked under Queen Asluag in the days when the boys were young. She was round, with a build as large as her personality. They must have fed her well these past years. Edda was quite fond of her late Queen and had resented Lagertha, but those were the old days, and a new era was upon them. Perhaps the murder had affected her just as it did the sons.

The main hall had been empty that morning, except for the few slaves that lingered about. Edda, that old hag, had sent her to clean up mess after mess. Artemis supposed that was her main purpose there, besides tending to the crippled prince. Cleaning up messes was tedious, but at least she wasn't forced upon the fortifications of the wall. The monks of Crete served that purpose.

Artemis blinked tiredly, slowly dragging her feet to the hall. It was to her surprise that not much needed to be cleaned and tended to. The brothers had thrown a small feast among themselves, and the remainders of last night hung in the air and draped over Artemis' shoulders like a cloak. Articles of clothing were thrown about, and horns of ale sat untouched on the table. She collected the clothing and cups, passing them off to one of the kitchen maids and the laundress.

She sighs, tending to the hearth before going over to wipe spilled ale off the large table. On the center of the table was what looked like a lute. It was a beautifully crafted instrument, the wood carved to perfection. Patterns were etched on its front with the same strategic lines she had seen carved on the rocks and boulders around the village.

She tossed the cleaning rag to the side, momentarily forgetting her task and letting her fingers brush atop the smooth wooden surface. The wood was soomth to the touch upon her heated fingers, just as she expected. She then passed her fingers over the thin strings that were rough to the touch. She plucked one of them, and the resonating sound made her smile. The sound was a comfort to her, a nostalgic ringing in her ears that made her want to pluck another string just to bring the feeling back.

"Do you play?"

Artemis turned quickly, suppressing a shriek of surprise. Behind her stood one of the princes, Sigurd, who bore a tired smile. When she remained quiet, he stepped forward slowly, ignoring the look she gave him.

"Do you play?" He asked again, this time a bit slower, assuming she didn't understand. He points at the lute. He gave no air of a threat, but Artemis could not be too sure, so she didn't let her guard down. She didn't know this prince as well as the others. Ubbe was sensible and kind, Hvitserk was extremely playful, and Ivar crazy, so where did Sigurd fit into?

She realizes he was waiting for an answer, and she quickly cleared her throat before putting her hands behind her back and setting her gaze to the floor.

"I'm not very skilled, Prince," She spoke quietly but firmly, and almost jerked back when he gently grasped her chin, pushing her face up towards him. Her eyes bore into his odd blue ones and his smile could be described as blinding.

"Your eyes," He begins, "Has anyone ever told you that you have beautiful eyes?"

"No." She replies flatly, shaking herself from his grip.

Sigurd wasn't angry.

He stepped past her, grabbing the lute and plucking a few strings to create a tune. He smiled at her again before handing her the instrument.

"You try,"

She looks at him with uncertainty before grasping the lute, cradling it softly within her arms like a child. She plucked one string, then another, bringing back a tune from deep within her memory.

She remembered her mother was a skilled musician, trying her best to pass on the knowledge to her, but Artemis never really cared for it. She always gravitated towards the work of her father and brother. Her mother always joked that she bore two sons. The thought made Artemis smile as she continued to play, just as her mother had taught her, a lullaby played to her when she was a little girl. It had been so long since she'd heard it, yet somehow it remained fresh in her mind.

She stopped abruptly, fingers hooking over the strings as mixed emotions ran through her. She felt angry hot tears swell in her eyes, blurring her vision. She choked back a sob that threatened to spill from her lips. The memories of her old life resurfaced and hit her like a crashing wave. She fought so hard to keep them at bay.

Overwhelmed, Artemis placed the lute back on the table with shaking hands. She spared a glance at Sigurd, wet eyes revealing the resentment swimming within. It wasn't his fault she was there, but he was associated with the ones who did, and that was enough for her soul to be gripped with animosity.

"Why do you cry?" Sigurd seemed genuinely confused. The idiot. He steps closer, raising a hand in an attempt to dry her tears, but right before she made a move to shift away from his touch again, they were interrupted by a growl all too familiar.

It had grown silent, even the crackling embers of the building fire had grown silent as if fearful.

"Ivar," Sigurd says his name with an annoyed sigh, not bothering to turn around. He knew his youngest brother had the eyes of a vulture.

"What can I do for you, little brother?"

Ivar had the habit of appearing from the shadows unnoticed despite the scraping of the metal buckles round his legs, but he quite liked it that way. He crawls across the floors in an eerie manner as he slowly approached the pair with eyes that was nothing short of murder.

"I just wonder brother," He began softly, continuing to drag himself ever so slowly until he reached Sigurds boots, "I wonder who gave you the authority to touch my thrall, if it was not I who gave the order?" Ivar feigned confusion, lifting himself up to sit at the table. He watched Artemis intently, noticing how rigid her posture was, as if ready to pounce on the defense if need be. Sigurd held his ground as he always did.

"Must I ask permission to command a slave, Ivar?" Ivar hums in response, drumming his fingers harshly against the table that resonated throughout the hall. Sigurd was never a good liar, even now, Ivar could see how his brow twitched, a sign of Sigurd's obvious dishonesty. He had fooled Ivar as a child many times, but he wouldn't be misguided as easily as before.

"Command? This isnt an ordinary slave, dear Sigurd, this is my slave. Would you like it if someone else were trying to toy with your property, hmm?" His tone was condescending, a ploy to bring Sigurd to his boiling point. It had almost worked, and the youngest brother watched with glee as Sigurd moved to react, hands turning to fists, but it was Ivar's slave that reacted first.

"I was never a man's property, not in my homeland, and certainly not here," Artemis growled, hands bawling into fists at her sides. Whatever ounce of fear she had of Ivar had disappeared, as rage clouded her vision. All thoughts of potential punishment had ceased from her mind, nose flaring and eyebrows arched.

She faces Ivar with a hardness in her eyes, shining like pearls ready to be plucked from the sea. Perhaps it was her nightmare that ignited the fire, the image of Ivar ready to kill her was implanted in her mind. Ivar grinned madly, a reaction he was not expecting from her, but a reaction he enjoyed nonetheless.

Sigurd watches on with wide eyes, speechless at her outburst. It was only moments ago in which she almost appeared as a mute. Leave it to Ivar to make even the most silent of persons angry.

"My, how your vocabulary has expanded!" Ivar taunts, "I'm impressed, really," He slams his hand against the table with a loud smack, and the force of the hit sent the lute crashing to the ground, forgotten in the tense silence of the hall. Then he gets deadly serious.

"The fact of the matter is that you are now a slave! To hel with your past life, it does not matter anymore. Here you are nothing but a slave under my command. Relinquish your thoughts of your homeland, you have no use for it here,"

"You are much too cruel, brother." Sigurd sighs, glancing at Artemis before taking a seat across from Ivar. He was in no mood to argue.

"The truth can be quite cruel," Ivar says, glaring at his brother before turning his gaze to Artemis. He brings a dagger between his fingers, the same one he put to her throat only days ago. It seemed to glitter in the light of the fire, as if mocking her mortality.

"Well? Will you not fetch us food? It is nearly time for breakfast," Ivar smiled, quickly driving the dagger into the wood of the table with a hard stab. Artemis, fuming with anger, remains silent. Her hands shook and she felt the heat rising to her cheeks. Sigurd sent her a sorrowful look, but she ignored it, snatching the rag in a tight grip and turning on her heel to exit the hall. How infuriating Ivar was, to constantly express his superiority. He compensates weak legs with extreme pride, and uses fear as a way to control.

Hvitserk and Ubbe walked past to meet their youngest with Margarthe in tow. Hvitserk winks at her as he usually did at but Ubbe's eyes were hard. He grabbed her forearm tightly, succeeding in emiting a squeal from her.

"Obey him, Artemis," She blinked. It was the first time he'd given her some form of scolding, "You may have never been a slave before, but that is what you are now, and that is the path the gods have chosen for you. If you value your life, obey him. You are replaceable."

With that, Ubbe leaves as if no words have been exchanged at all. Margarthe sends her a look as if warning her, but disappeared with her husband and lover into the hall.

Angry tears escape her eyes and she wipes them away furiously. Tears wouldn't help her.

...

@heavenly1927

[crimsonrae]

Across the Road, At the Brothel

Chapter Two

Summary: Jaskier fell in love any day that the sun rose in the East. It was a trifling, pleasurable experience for him. Even when he was jumping out a window to avoid cuckolded husbands. So what happens when his trifles start to become more significant? Jaskier/OC. Some Yennefer/Geralt

A/N: Jaskier is just too adorable not to write about. This is a relationship development story with an OC. There will be smut in later chapters and plenty of angst.

Rating: Mature

Or Dove...It was the low murmur of voices and the rather ominous thunking of feet on floorboards that woke Jaskier. For a dull moment, he thought Geralt had returned from... wherever the fuck he had flitted off to. To be honest, he hadn't paid much attention. After three weeks without a bed, a bath, or a decent meal for that matter – despite what Geralt thought he was not a culinary wizard – Jaskier had been far more focused on enjoying the simple pleasures of which he had been deprived and those pleasures did not include traipsing back out into the wild to find some Gods forsaken creature that could, quite possibly, rend him limb from bloody limb.

Opening blurry eyes, he cast about the room for the hulking form of his friend and frowned when he saw no one. It took longer than he would like to admit before he realized that the noise he was hearing was coming from outside his room. Sitting up, his head pulsed with a faint pain and he groaned, quietly remembering the amount of wine he had imbued the night before. He had to hand it to the Toussaint province when they set out to make wine. They made bloody good wine.

A soft yawn unfurled from his lips and he squinted almost peevishly at the light shining in through the window. It had to be a little before midday, his late-night had ensured that he had most certainly missed breakfast. Biting back another yawn, Jaskier slowly went about his usual morning ablutions. He had to admit it was rather nice not to have a pair of golden eyes silently observing his usual rituals, also a little lonely, but that was not something he wanted to dwell on too closely. He and Geralt had basically been living in each other's pockets lately, time apart was more than needed. And yet...

Jaskier sighed quietly as he finished dressing and headed for the door. He supposed that it was time for him to resurface to reality and sniff out whatever it was that had his companion traipsing through wine country. Hopefully, it was a search for a good bottle of Bordeaux, though unlikely. It didn't take long for him to find the inn empty of its keeper as he made his way outside, his stomach rumbling. The first point of order was to track down some food before he went in search of information. It was still a tad early for a midday meal, but he was sure he could find something at the local markets to nibble on.

...Well, market was a strong term he supposed as he looked about.

While Glynedol was not exactly a one-road town, it came rather close. It seemed the road that he and Geralt had come in on was the main road through the town. It had the inn, the tavern, and the brothel all within a few metres of each other. It looked like there was an apothecary not too far down, as well as a cobbler and smithy a little further from that. His stomach twisted with a faint nauseous hunger and Jaskier had to wonder why he hadn't seen any stalls set up for traders. It was harvest season, after all. Usually, vendors would be selling their wares at any small spit such as this little town. Frowning, he glanced about and realized that there weren't many people about either. He could understand most working the fields of their farms for the last bits of produce before autumn, but surely it was getting late enough and certainly warm enough in the day for more to be taking a break and heading into the local watering hole for a respite. It was all a bit... odd.

"Nigel, you can't keep doing this. Not with winter on the way."

Jaskier perked up as a familiar voice caught his attention. The barmaid. Lyrra. She might be willing to guide him about. His eyes quickly scanned the sides of the road but saw neither hide nor hair of her.

A low rumble seemed to answer her back and Jaskier found himself detouring down a side alley by the brothel. He turned a corner and found his lovely maiden knelt down before a slovenly mess of a man. With her back to him, he silently took in her form. Gone was the headscarf she had wrapped around her head the night prior and he could see luscious chestnut hair tethered in a loose braid. The loose frock and apron she wore as she had worked were replaced by a more form-fitting dress. It was simple in style, but he found he far preferred it to her other ensemble.

"What would Mae say if she saw you now?" Lyrra murmured softly as she tried to coax the man slumped against the wall to stand.

The man's hazy green eyes landed on Jaskier and the bard could tell that the man was drunker than a skunk. Still, he had enough wherewithal to nod at him, "Who's 'e?"

"Wh-?" Lyrra started to ask as she turned, obviously expecting no one as her soft grey eyes widen at the sight of Jaskier. She frowned slightly at him before plastering on a soft smile for the drunkard, "He's a bard. One that has a future as a thief with the way he sneaks about."

"I don't know if I'm offended or flattered by that comment." Jaskier muttered thoughtfully as he stepped up next to her, "Do I not get an introduction, as well?"

A flash of exasperation crossed her features and he hid a smile as she gestured down to her friend, "Jaskier, this is Nigel. Nigel, Jaskier. We'll be on our way now."

Jaskier smirked at her none too subtle hint to go away and glanced at Nigel. He wrinkled his nose and hummed, "Hmmm, will you though?"

Lyrra frowned and looked to see that Nigel had passed out during her introduction. A sigh of weariness escaped her as she knelt again to shake her friend awake with little luck. Jaskier raised a brow at her efforts, "Oh, leave him here, Lyrra. He can sleep it off in the alley just as easily a bed."

"He's been out here all night." She mumbled, her disapproving tone matching the glare she threw over her shoulder at him.

He shrugged, "And somehow he's been left alone... well, till you came along that is. Besides, he'll probably regret the state he is in now more if he were to wake up in a filthy alley than if he were to wake in a warm bed. Less likely for a repeat performance this way."

"That's rather unlikely." Lyrra uttered quietly as she patted the man's cheek, "Come on, Nigel. Just a few minutes and you can sleep again, dove."

"Always been my experience." Jaskier stated blandly as he continued to watch.

"And has it been your experience to drink yourself dumb to ease the pain of your wife's passing?" Lyrra questioned echoing his tone as she stood to face him, "Somehow, I think grief wins over discomfort."

"Ahh." Jaskier's amusement at the situation dropped as a tendril of remorse curled in his gut. Pity flared to life in his heart for the stranger as he resisted the urge to squirm under Lyrra's indifferent gaze. He sighed, "All right."

Jaskier quickly took up Lyrra's previous position before the grieving widower. His hand reached out and quickly found the hollow above the man's collar bone before pressing in and curling his finger over the bone with a decent amount of force. Nigel spasmed and jerked awake from the attack on his pressure point, green eyes wide in betrayed bafflement. Jaskier found he couldn't blame him for that look. Geralt had used that particular move on him enough that he was familiar with the sensation that had shot through Nigel's body. It wasn't exactly painful, but it was definitely not pleasurable. Quickly before Nigel had a chance to gather his bearings to slip back off again, Jaskier tugged his arm up and over his shoulders forcing the drunk to stand.

"Don't you dare throw up on me." The bard threatened with a wince as he finally caught wind of the noxious fumes of alcohol coming off the other man's body. Gods, if he hadn't fucking smelled last night, he surely did now. All this on an empty stomach too. He raised an expectant brow as Lyrra gawked at him, "Where to?"

She started slightly and waved a hand down the alley, "This way."

Jaskier grunted softly, channeling his inner Geralt as he half dragged Nigel down the alley. To his surprise, it really wasn't terribly far before they stopped again. He had been prepared to go a few blocks at least. Not less than fifteen metres or so. He was sure his brows were touching his hairline as he realized what door they were stopped in front of, "He's drunker than a fish in an ocean and you want to leave him in a brothel? I don't know if this man will love you or hate you for that."

A light flush suddenly coated her cheeks as she looked away embarrassed but still, she knocked at the wooden door. A second later the entry was thrown open and a stern older woman peered out. Jaskier tried not to cringe under her heavy stare, even as he quirked a small grin at her. It was a wonder this place got any business if men had to go through that battleaxe of a woman. Yet the moment she laid eyes on Lyrra she softened before peering more intently at the form now dangling into Jaskier's side.

"Again?"

Lyrra nodded quietly and the older woman sighed, "Come on, then."

She stepped aside and began to cluck like an old mother hen. Jaskier listened passively as she pestered Lyrra about being too kindhearted and reiterated a variant of what he had suggested earlier. Leave Nigel to whatever bed he made, essentially. As the drunk began to weigh more heavily on his shoulders, Jaskier was silently inclined to agree. In his periphery, he could see women in various states of undress as they moved down a hall lined with doors. Most ignored the small group, while a few waved at Lyrra and offered a sympathetic smile. He was sure it was the first time in his life he had ever been so soundly ignored by a group of whores. He itched with the desire to check his pockets and make sure his coin hadn't been lifted without his notice.

" 'Ere we are. Jus lay 'im on the bed, luv." The matron said stoutly with a nod forward.

Jaskier basically dropped the man once he was close enough and breathed a quiet sigh of relief at the sudden lack of weight.

"We got 'im now petal. Don't ya worry none."

Jaskier turned in time to catch Lyrra's grateful smile and the subtle palming of a few coins before he fell under the matron's stern glare. A ribald comment was poised on the tip of his tongue when he suddenly felt delicate fingers tugging him away and back outside. He eyed the woman before him with renewed curiosity, "Well, that was an adventure. You're welcome by the way."

Lyrra paused and gazed at him uncertainly for a moment before she offered him a rueful smile, "Thank you for helping."

Jaskier smiled faintly, "Yes, well who am I to deny a damsel in distress?"

He swore she rolled her eyes though her smile never diminished. She caught him by surprise though as she tilted her head curiously at him, "You seem to be coming to my rescue quite a bit it seems."

"Oh?" Jaskier questioned in confusion. His mind raced as he tried to place what other time he had come to her aid.

"Hillard told me you chased out the man who propositioned me last night." She reminded him quietly.

It was his turn to blush, as he felt an unfamiliar heat creep into his cheeks, "Oh er um... Your barkeep saw that, did he?"

Lyrra nodded, "He said you gave him a good laugh."

Well, that was something at least, Jaskier thought woefully, though silently relieved that his childish antics hadn't brought him scorn from either the lady or the barkeep.

"Though I do have to ask. Are you following me?"

Jaskier blinked and smirked, "Why? Do you want me to go? You wound me so, lovely Lyrra. Your attentions are rather hard-won. Especially, after lugging a man down an alley for you."

His eyes twinkled mischievously as she blushed and lightly scowled at him. It was fun to get a reaction from her. She shook her head in exasperation or amusement he wasn't sure which, perhaps both as she replied, "That wasn't what I meant and you know it. The tavern was one thing. I work at the Rose and Pine and you happened to be performing there. But now...?"

In truth, he hadn't been looking for her. He hadn't given her much thought beyond a trifling disappointment at a potential tryst thwarted and an interesting conversation lost. Though the conversation part had been regained it seemed. Yet, he could give her a more playful charming answer, "This morning more like for some of us. When I heard your voice dance across the air, I couldn't help but follow its lead. Much like following a siren's call."

"... You use such pretty words." She surprised him again when he caught the disappointment seeping in her grey orbs like storm clouds. She fixed that polite smile he had received before... the one he had noticed she gave to overly-friendly, but strange customers. It was like seeing a physical manifestation of Geralt's silent glare that said he was now merely tolerating whoever was before him. Usually, it was Jaskier.

"Huh. I – I don't think I've ever heard someone say that like it was an insult before." He murmured with a furrowed brow, feeling like he was losing his grip on...on something.

Lyrra shrugged indifferently, "So what were you really doing this morning then?"

Jaskier stared as he realized that it wasn't that he was losing his grip, but that she could see through his bullshit. Bollocks, "I was looking for some food. An apple or something to nibble on. Rather surprised there weren't merchants anywhere on the street, actually."

As if realizing it herself, she glanced about the street they were drifting down. A frown tugged at her lips, "It has been strange lately."

Her voice was barely louder than a whispered, but Jaskier still caught her words. Maybe this was why Geralt had been so twitchy. Maybe he had sensed something was off with Glynedol – now Jaskier wished he had paid a little more attention to his friend's brief explanations, "Strange how?"

Lyrra shook her head, "Just quiet. Fewer people. Usually, the town is bustling with activity this time of year...it's hard to explain. Your singing brought in more people to the tavern than I had seen in a while."

"Huh." Jaskier huffed, suddenly at a loss for those pretty words she mentioned earlier. He had no idea of what to make of her information or what it could possibly have to do with Geralt's latest venture.

She seemed to sense this as she touched his elbow and nodded behind her, "Come on, let's get you some food."

"Oh yes, that – that is a golden plan right there, that is." He uttered delightedly before his stomach reaffirmed its starved state with a loud gurgle. She snickered softly and his lips quirked as a sinful comment fell from his lips, "Help me sate my body's hunger, lovely Lyrra."

There was no doubt that she rolled her eyes this time as she led the way back to the tavern.

»»————-　　————-««

"Where is your companion?" Lyrra asked lowly as she placed a small bowl of stew before him.

Once they had entered the Rose and Pine, she had disappeared into the back, only to reappear as she had the previous night. Jaskier had felt mild disappointment at the sight of her work frock and headscarf. While practical, he would rather see her lovely hair falling loose from her braid and skimming the small strip of flesh above the neckline of her other gown than this sack of a monstrosity. He said none of this as he munched slowly on his stew.

After a thoughtful moment and under the pressure of her expectant gaze, he shrugged, "Not terribly sure actually. I was more enamored with finding water for a bath when he departed. I saw Roach stabled at the back of the inn still... He couldn't have gone far."

"Roach?"

"His horse." Jaskier clarified with a hint of envy as he thought of his other defacto traveling companion. Should Geralt ever feel the need to ditch him, Roach's disappearance would be his clue, "Geralt loves that beast more than himself. He wouldn't leave her alone for long."

A soft smile crossed Lyrra's lips at this profession. Quietly, she slid into the seat across from him. It was funny, when he wasn't actively pursuing her attention, she seemed not to mind giving it to him, "What's that look then?"

Lyrra blinked and looked at him questionably, "What look?"

"That smile for Geralt's bestial obsession." Jaskier said with a small grin. Had the Witcher been nearby he would have been smacked upside the head for that little comment.

Lyrra shrugged, "Whether a beast of burden or a furry companion, I think it's rather telling of a person on how they treat their pets. Your Geralt seems to be a decent sort at the very least."

Jaskier snorted in amusement, though he couldn't disagree. For as gruff and sinister and outright bloody rude his friend could be, he was more honest and decent than most, "Yes, he is at the very least decent."

She cast him an indecipherable look and he merely smiled back. Finishing his stew, he took the time to really study her. It had been something of game, the previous night to court her attention. She had flitted about the tavern like she was dancing on wind. Her service was so smooth that he hadn't even noticed her until the incident with the leering scruff. Her handling of it had been just as graceful and if he hadn't been standing behind her at the time, he never would have noticed the man's untoward forwardness.

He wasn't sure what had possessed him to comment on it to her, but then she had turned to him. Her grey orbs had shown like stars shining through stormy skies and he had been captivated. She was pretty. Her beauty understated, but nonetheless present as his interest in her continued to climb. It had also helped that Jaskier had caught the interest in her gaze as well. He knew attraction when he saw it. He had been put off when she hadn't acted on hers, however. As fun as it had been to pull blushes to her unblemished cheeks, he hadn't expected to be so thoroughly stonewalled. Admittedly, her reluctance to have anything to do with him was still rather entertaining.

He wondered distantly if there was a word for finding such abhorrence to his person attractive. He was sure it said something about him at any rate, but that too was not something he wanted to dwell on. Instead, he turned his focus back on Lyrra, "So... barmaid, then?... Um, how did you find yourself in that profession?"

He nearly grimaced at how bumbling that had come out. She stared at him silently for a moment, amusement crinkling at the corner of her eyes before saying so dryly, "Well, queen seemed to be taken and I wasn't much for whoring. You?"

"Same." He uttered amusedly, preening when she smiled in quiet laughter.

She shook her head at him and moved to stand, "I need to start getting ready for the dinner hour. Thank you for your help today, sir bard."

"Jaskier, Lyrra." He corrected, longing to hear her recite his name in a more intimate setting.

She smirked, a faint blush appearing as she threw over her shoulder, "Or dove, right?"

Well, well. He grinned in delight at her parting shot and vowed to get her to spend her spare time with him as the night wore on.

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[freefics]

Something. I don't know

There. Right there. In front of her. She had to resist the urge to scream for her, sprinting towards her. Reaching her side, grabbing her shoulder, turning her. “Oh. Sorry.” She turned away from the curious eyes searching her face, unable to stand how they were bright green, not brilliant hazel, almost orange. The auburn hair was cut differently, yes, but it had been years. She had so much hope, it burned so bright, but burned her every time. Like her. She returned home. It was late, she realized. She slept. “Why? Why?” she wept, struggling forward only to be forced back. Why, of all things, would these be the only chains not to break? Why wasn’t she strong enough? “You have to learn a lesson, Sweetheart,” a sickly sweet smile came over his face, “One that I love teaching.” He stabbed her, again and again and again and again. She couldn’t watch, but she had to. She was stuck, unable to move, to help, to save her. She had to save her. “Aw, Sweetheart, don’t cry. I’m almost done with her. Then I should move on to him, don’t you think?” He dropped her to the ground, she was hardly breathing, covered in her own blood. Why, why, why her? He had moved towards their son, just a week old, so sweet, so pure, so innocent. She struggled more, as hopeless as before, but she had to do something. “NO! Why, why are you doing this? He’s just a baby. I’ll give you anything for his life. Please.” She cried, reduced to nothing, for she could do nothing. He tilted his head. “Even yourself?” She looked up, met his eyes. “Yes. Anything.” “Perfect. You’re learning. But there’s one thing you need to understand.” He gripped her baby boy’s leg, lifting him up by it. “Anyone that gets close to you gets hurt.” He sliced through the leg, fully severing it. She fought against the urge to vomit, crying. “I’ll still take you though. I won’t kill him, not like them.” He jerked his head towards the women lying on the ground, one a corpse and the other close to being one. “Don’t hurt him anymore. You can have me. But I will kill you.” He laughed. “How do you still have so much spirit? I have destroyed your wife and your friend in front of you. You have no hope. Give up and give in. It won’t hurt as much.” He approached her wife once more, picking her up with an air of finality. “Any last words?” He turned Fawn’s beautiful destroyed face towards her. Fawn gasped and gained consciousness once more. “It’s not your fault.” And he cut her heart out. She woke up sobbing, covered in sweat, alone. She got up, knowing sleep was lost. She dressed and took her keys, running to the building’s gym. She worked to drown her thoughts, finding her way back to calm grief, trying not to think about what had happened, what she’d done. What she’d failed to do. “Hey.” She jumped, spinning around, ready to fight. “Are you okay? It’s kind of weird to do a full body workout at,” the woman checked her watch, “2:37 in the morning. Also, you look like shit. No offense.” She looked in the mirrors that lined the walls. She looked like she hadn’t slept in days and had done five rounds with a boxing champion. Which might as well be true. “Well,” she responded slowly, “It’s kind of weird to even be up at 2:37 in the morning. And even weirder to come start a conversation with a stranger that’s in the middle of a workout.” The woman laughed, “That’s fair, I guess. I’m Aubry. I work as a nurse at the local 24 hour clinic. And I feel like I should take you with me. I’m on my way now.” She smiled in a friendly manner. She looked at her. She should probably get some things checked out… “Sure. I don’t have to head to work for another… 48 hours because it’s the weekend. Right. I’m Riza.” She turned to check whether she had left anything, then remembered she didn’t really have anything to leave. “Nice to meet you, Riza,” Aubry put her arm around Riza’s shoulders as she approached. Riza tried to shrug her off, but Aubry held on even tighter. “Nuh uh. You looked like a strong enough breeze could knock you over and I am so not risking you passing out on the way over. Don’t fight it, sweetheart.” Riza instantly tensed and ripped herself away from the older woman. “Don’t call me that. Ever. I’m fine, I think I’ll actually just head home, try to sleep or something.” Riza backed away down the hall, looking hostile and frightened. She sprinted up the stairs to her apartment, ignoring Aubry’s confusion and attempt to follow her. Upon reaching her door she slipped inside and locked three of the five locks and the two deadbolts. She sat down against the door of the closet next to the door, dropping her head to her knees, trying to stop the memories flooding her mind. There was a knock at the door. Riza stood and backed up ten feet, ready to run or attack. “Riza? Are you alright? Do you need me to call someone?” It was Aubry. “Can I trust you? Are you one of Them?” Riza called, slowly approaching the door, sliding a knife off the side table. “What? Of course you can trust me. I just want to help.” “Do you swear you won’t hurt me or anyone else?” “Riza, I’m a nurse-” “Do you swear it?” She pushed as much Will into her voice, forcing the magic to work. “Fine. Yes. I swear it. Please let me in. Let me help, I know some great doctors and psychologists that could help you.” Aubry sounded almost pleading,. Riza opened the door a bit, looking at Aubry. “You’re really not one of Them.” “No,” she looked vaguely exasperated, “Who are you even talking about?” Riza’s expression closed. “If you don’t know them, you don’t need to.” “Okay. Well, will you come with me? Please?” Aubry looked hopeful. “How far is it?” Riza is starting to feel exhaustion catch up again, as well as the pain from her fight beginning to resurface. “It’s just around the corner. Is it okay for me to touch you? Like, to support you, just in case?” Aubry looks concerned. Riza nods. “Just for now. I don’t think I can exactly trust myself.” Aubry looked more concerned, then pushed it away for a sunny look. “Alright. Just grab your keys and wallet and we can go, okay?” Riza stared at her. “I never put them down.” There’s a pause. “I mean, I only got home like two seconds before you knocked, so. Yeah.” The younger girl tries to cover the fact that she tries to be ready to run, tries not to raise suspicion because too many people know her already and if more find out, They’ll know and They’ll come for her and that can’t happen and now she feels her chest tighten and when was the last time she took her asthma medication and she’s hyperventilating and the world is sliding by but also moving to black and- The older woman watches as the girl tries to make her statement less awkward and smiles, reminded of her own teenage years. Then she frowns as Riza’s eyes lose focus and she starts breathing too fast and then she’s falling and Aubry moves to catch her. She looks at her and lays her down softly, checking her pulse and breathing. It’s kind of erratic, but her breathing is at least a little smoother, but it also sounds wheezy and she’s probably and asthmatic that just had a panic attack. Which could be compounded by an asthma attack quickly as the air starts sounding restricted. She has to get her to the clinic. Thank god for all of that training. She carefully lifted the girl, thinking that now that she actually felt her, she really was one. She was young and so small. Too small, almost. She carefully walked to the elevator, wishing not to jostle the poor girl any more than necessary. Upon reaching the outside doors, she walked out and turned, taking her to help. The bell on the door jingled as she entered through the front. The girl behind the desk, Ana, looked up happily. “Hi Aubry! Oh my, what do you have here?” She realized the situation quickly, opening the doors to the back and clearing the way to one of the checking rooms with a table. “I met this girl in my apartment building’s exercise room when I was leaving for work today.” “What was she doing?” Ana asked, confused. “Exercising, obviously.” Aubry gave a short laugh. “I convinced her to come with me, just because of the bruises and how tired she looked, but then I called her sweetheart and she bolted. Which led to a conversation, which led to a panic attack and passing out and an asthma attack. So she needs to get checked out now.” Ana looked alarmed. “Right, on that.” She hurried away.