#chapter title is Cirice by GHOST

[xxnashiraxx]

With Stars to Fill My Dream (7) - From Now Our Merge is Eternal

I'm releasing chapter 7 early!!!! ❤

Please have my girl in her new hard af fit, about to be traumatized next chapter. Lets goooooooo.

I'm setting up Ofelia's and Astarion's relationship, just the bones, it's so hard to write these two idiots sometimes. Forgive any grammatical errors I really tried to proofread this a billion times first. :")

Thank you guys!

Summary: A street-smart, musically inclined human girl with a tragic past gets abducted by a nautiloid after her painfully average shift at a retro singing diner. What's worse- putting your all into Olivia Newton-John and Travolta for lousy tips, or getting your guts ripped out by a gnoll? Or worse- getting turned into a hideous humanoid squid? Ofelia Montez will have to see if she can survive long enough to find out.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Mentions of past abuse and trauma. Canon-typical violence and gore.

Word Count: 8,238

Opening below the cut!

Sparks of red and gold flash behind his eyes as Astarion sits against a tree, the breath that fills his lungs and pushes outward again makes him feel almost alive. Every scent feels more powerful- even his sight is sharper. He can see the individual feathers of a hawk circling above, looking for its next meal.

He’s chosen a view of the sunrise today, and whether it's his freshly sated appetite or something else, it looks more beautiful this morning than ever before. Granted he hadn't had the chance to see it before these last few days in as long as he can remember, but still… Ofelia’s blood has made him feel like himself again. Maybe more than he has since he’s been dead.

No flush colors his cheeks when he thinks of their union- he does regret the intimate nature of the bite, but even knowing its troublesome side effects, he’d have done it all again just the same, perhaps aside from not properly asking her first.

She’d been so willing, and that fact wasn’t lost on him. Why? He can’t fathom it. No matter how hard he pours over her every word and subtle expression, he doesn’t know why she’d said yes. Stupidity? Curiosity? Some strange notion of compassion? Pity?

He grits his teeth, though he can’t find it in himself to stay irritated. He can’t stop thinking about the taste, the warmth in his skin now, all of it. How can he secure this strange partnership between them? She isn’t like his usual marks. She’s intelligent but stupid. Kind, but petty. Soft, yet tough. She doesn’t seem to be receptive to his more flirtatious remarks, but perhaps he isn’t trying the right kind. All he’d had to do before was bat his lashes and flatter his prey, but with her it’s different. Her keen eyes search for something deeper- a connection.

The kind she looks for isn’t something he has. Mutual trust? Banish the thought. He’d sooner flee their odd little group of misfits than confess to Ofelia a genuine emotion of his. Or thought. She’d find some use for it, no doubt- keep it stowed away for her benefit someday. She’s just enough of a wildcard that if he yields a sliver of control to her, she may see the opening and go for his throat. He’s smarter than that.

Perhaps he’ll manufacture lies for her? Pretty ones? She’s young and impressionable- perhaps she’ll be swayed by them. He can feed her some truth, just enough to gain her trust, and perhaps secure future feedings and a warm bedroll. Astarion’s nothing if not a master of deception- the scores of victims trailing behind him speak for themselves. He’ll resort to the one thing he knows best- luring with his looks to keep her hooked so he can stay fed and safe while he figures out how to remove his old master from the equation.

After that’s through, he’ll be rid of her and the parasite.

He ignores the odd little twinge in the back of his mind- likely the worm. When he stands, his limbs stretch, and his muscles flex, the breeze coming off the river balmy and carrying the promise of another hot day. He’ll go find her and thank her, see if he can begin this dance he’s set out before himself.

And hide her marks from the rest of their companions…

[lamoorgalore]

Connections that I've made between The Riders in "Marks of the Evil One" and the previous Papas

So I don't know if people have already made these connections before, this is my first week of really learning about the lore of Ghost. I've listened to the music before, but I haven't really gotten into it before this week!

But I know people have made the connection of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse and the Papas that we know. I just wanted to write down what's been stewing in my brain. :D I'll put it under a read more, since this got pretty long :,D

"One rider has a bow/Rides a steed, white/And wears a crown, conquering" This is Papa Emeritis I. I see his weapon as the bow being the first Papa that we've seen on stage. He's the scout of the party, mostly unseen by the enemy but his impact being felt further than thought possible. Also! Other than Papa Nihil, he also wore a white chasuble. He is the first Papa Emeritus (Wears a crown), and started the band back up and gaining almost instant popularity (conquering).

"A second rider joins/On a steed, red/Swinging a sword, mongering" From what I've seen, Papa Emeritis I and II seem to come as a pair. From them being brothers born 3 months apart and also Papa II wearing Papa I's same face paint for a while. They're also the only Papas to have the mic passed down peacefully between each other on stage. The album that Papa Emeritus II released, "Infestissumam" was about the Antichrist, impending doom, the name itself translating roughly to "the biggest threat". That certainly brings to mind a strong Melee warrior on the front lines, sowing fear. His red steed also brings to mind his red sunglasses that he used to wear.

"The third rider looks cool/On his steed, black/A pair of scales in his hand" This one feels a bit ironic, considering the sad fate of Papa Emeritus III. From my short time learning about the previous Popes, Terzo's story feels the most tragic. After picking up the mic from what was said to be a bitter and inefficient pope, he seemed to be where the Pope's stage performance started appealing to the modern audience. Terzo wearing the tailscoat and pants on stage, being a much more active performer and sitting down to have face-to-face talks with the audience. He was even the pope to win Ghost their first Grammy with "Cirice!"

But all of the accolades are nothing compared to the injustice and nepotism of Sister Imperator. She wanted her son in power as Pope, and drags Terzo off stage, later tricking him into thinking he'll go back on tour "Back in the spotlight, forever!" and instead killing and embalming both him and the previous Popes in glass coffins to be seen by the congregation forever. For a rider holding scales of justice, his story is anything but just.

"The fourth rider is death/Rides a steed, pale/And Hades follows him" This is personally, headcanon from me atp. But Copia being the fourth rider of Death with Hades following him just reminds me of his entire story during the Chapters. The threat of him being just the next Pope lined up to be killed and stuffed and displayed in a coffin is a constant threat hanging over him. Mr. Psaltarian and Sister Imperator casually bringing up "The End of the Summer Tour" and telling him not to worry about the "Brand New Coffin" being wheeled through the ministry. And with Rite Here Rite Now, it's this conflict that's front and center as the final tour of the summer draws closer. But instead of him dying, his mother dies in front of him, becoming a ghost just like Papa Nihil.

Speaking of which, Papa Emeritus IV's move up in power always seems to come at a cost of someone else's life. Papa Nihil dies after his sax solo mid-concert, thus giving Copia his new title. And then at the end of his reign, his mother dies and he steps into her position as Frater Imperator. Imagine the weight of that on his shoulders! What a lucky and blessed life! What a curse... This also comes with the development that we see in some of the latest chapters, where Frater Imperator is able to see and converse with the ghosts in the Clergy, something we haven't seen the past Papas do. It would be interesting to see if they continue the Chapters just to see if Papa V Perpetua is also able to see the ghosts, or if Copia just looks absolutely Crazy in front of his twin brother. >:D

I also know that Tobias has said that lore will probably not be as much of a thing going forward, which makes me sad. I'm such a nerd for a narrative, and I'm so happy with what he's created so far! I suppose if he decides to drop it completely, we'll always have fan canon and people like me who will spout paragraphs of utter bullshit xD

With all of this, I would also like to theorize about Papa V Perpetua's position in all of this. If he's been cast out from the Clergy before this, then he might not have known so much about the previous Popes. I wonder if he's some sort of prophet/oracle figure, or someone who's had hidden connections in the cult before we knew about him. Either way, I'm excited to see where Tobias takes this new character. He seems to follow a bit more of Copia's personality, if a bit more shy. And it's hilarious how the ghouls bully him around the stage, like they don't take him seriously as the Pope yet, lol

I want to hear what yall think though! This is the first time that I've really posted anything big like this for Ghost on tumblr. Am I totally missing the mark here, or didn't mention anything big? I'll admit, most of my overall knowledge comes from Chronicle Ghoul's video essay series starting with "The Road to Rite Here Rite Now | Entire Ghost Timeline" https://youtu.be/qBZe8Lj7hHw?si=OJeZ2hCjES4WlWqQ

[acoylteofmohg]

I've been writing Darkness at the Heart of My Love for around a year now and as I've worked on it I've come to notice just how drastically the story has changed from the original draft to what I have now.

The motivations and personalities of Micolash, the hunter, and other characters have been altered to such a degree that I don't consider what I'm working on right now to be the same story as what was initially titled DATHOML. There's a lot that's been carried over, later chapters that didn't need as much work as the earlier establishing chapters but there's probably more that's changed.

I'm not sure what the new title would be, but it would certainly be something that rolls off the tongue a bit better lol.

The song that inspired this fic's title still rings true for the overall theme but God it's just so long ^^" love me some Ghost tho, the songs DATHOML, Cirice, Deus In Absentia, Absolution, Marionette and more were big inspirations. The lyrical themes of the failure and hypocrisy of modern organized religion in addition to my own personal experience with religion is something I draw from for this fic and reflect onto the Healing Church for a little added depth.

[ao3feed-peterparker]

I CAN FEEL THE THUNDER THATS BRAKING IN YOUR HEART!!

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/85htTCF by Copias_emotional_support_cup This is what if Jefferson Morales dies   Idk what else to put just read and find out. the title is lyrics from cirice by ghost =p this is not done I posted so it doesnt reset sorry Words: 101, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Spider-Verse (Sony Animated Movies) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: Other Characters: Miles Morales, Miguel O'Hara, Spot | Bagel Guy (Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse), Peter Parker, Hobie Brown, Jessica Drew, Gwen Stacy | Spider-Gwen, Pavitr Prabhakar, Rio Morales, Lyla | LYrate Lifeform Approximation (Earth-928), Miles Morales | Prowler (Marvel Earth-42), Aaron Davis (Marvel Earth-42), Peter Porker, Peter Benjamin Parker | Spider-Man Noir, Ben Reilly Relationships: Hobie Brown & Miles Morales, Miles Morales & Spot | Bagel Guy (Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse), Jessica Drew & Miguel O'Hara & Peter Parker, Miles Morales & Pavitr Prabhakar, Hobie Brown/Miles Morales Additional Tags: Vigilante Miles Morales, Dead Jefferson Morales (Earth-1610), Feral Miguel O'Hara, Mild Language, Depression read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/85htTCF

[quizzyisdone]

It Will Come Back (Part II) | Ghost x Fem! Reader

Chapter Title: Cirice (Mature) Word Count: 3.4k Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem! Reader Synopsis: In the aftermath of the last mission, Ghost takes for the fall for you, for reasons even he couldn't explain why. Once again, the lieutenant has saved you. Almost sensing your feelings of guilt and failure, Ghost tries to bare himself in a way he's never done before in an attempt to comfort you. But his past always has a way of rearing its ugly head. Warnings: Please see this post for proper tags, Tumblr banned it when I put them in the fic last time.

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three]

Masterlist

**Title inspired by Cirice by Ghost

I feel your presence amongst us

You cannot hide in the darkness

Can you hear the rumble?

Can you hear the rumble that's calling?

The journey to exfil was largely uneventful, every enemy was dead, executed in cold blood by your rescuer. Ghost, as per usual, was deafeningly silent. His handiwork was splattered all around the house, blood and bullet sprays painting the walls in a violent masterpiece. Stepping over dead bodies, you trailed behind him as he scanned for any threats.

“You got here quick, yeah?” Your voice was soft and meek, a far cry from what little Ghost would know of your personality.

“Course I did.” He replied, his tone very a matter-of-fact, as if your comment was an unnecessary statement of the obvious. 

“I, uh, just didn’t expect it. Thought I was on my own.” You admitted, and Ghost stopped dead in his tracks, his back still facing towards you and he turned his head to the side.

“You think that little of me?” He scoffed.

“No, no I don’t,” You began, even though you weren’t quite sure what you were thinking at that moment you were captured. “It’s just that-”

“Just what?” He interrupted, his voice booming, the anger rising becoming evident in his tone. Defeated, you squeaked out a little “nothing” and Ghost let the argument go with a grunt. He began walking again, and you trailed even further behind than before. 

The deafening silence from before resumed, and you and Ghost made your way back to the chopper.

__

The sound of the blades on the helicopter whirring above your head made the uncomfortable silence from earlier preferable, as the sound bounced inside your skull, bringing back that throbbing feeling in your head from earlier. Ghost unceremoniously walked straight past Price, loading himself in, and the captain strode towards you, one hand on your shoulder.

“You okay?” He shouted over the sound of the helicopter. Concern flooded his features, but his disappointment at this mission’s failure still etched itself onto his eyebrows. “Your nose is bleeding.”

You nodded. “You should check the back of my head, he pistol whipped me.” You laughed dryly.

He helped you into the chopper, although you didn’t need it, but you appreciated the gesture. He gave the “okay” hand signal to the pilot and shut the door for lift off.

“First thing’s first, you two.” He began, his cockney accent thickening through the haze of exhaustion. “Y/N, let me see the back of your head.” 

You turned around for him, letting him inspect your scalp. Gently, his fingers separated your hair away from the wound as he looked it over. He hummed in satisfaction and you turned to face Price.

“Not too bad. Don’t need stitches or anything like that. Probably have a terrible headache in the morning, though. Have the medic look over it.” You nodded, sitting down a few seats from Ghost, and Price sat opposite of you. Leaning over his legs on his elbow, he clasped his hands together, looking at the pair of you. As he opened his mouth to speak, Ghost interrupted him.

“Before you ask, I killed the target.” Price closed his mouth at Ghost’s admission and glanced over at Ghost, your eyes wide as he looked back at you for naught but a second. Price’s brows furrowed.

“Why?” He said curtly.

“Lost my shit.” He shrugged, leaning his head on his hand. Price sighed, rubbing his forehead.

“You don’t just lose your shit, Simon.” He raised his voice. “You’re supposed to be a professional, both of you. That was our first lead in months and you cocked it up!”

This was the first time you had seen the calm, collected, and most of all, kind captain yelling at one of his own. Taken aback, you elected to stay quiet, even as you knew you should’ve stopped Ghost from taking the fall for you. Ignoring Price’s yelling, he crossed his arms in a defensive stance, letting quiet fill the air as Price waited for his response.

“It wasn’t a complete bust. L/N, show him what you found.”

Digging through your pocket, you handed Price the map you found in the barn. Looking over it, his face and body seemed to wash over with relief as his jaw unclenched and his shoulders relaxed. 

“I’ll have to have an analyst take a look at this.” He smiled ever so softly. “Good job.” Price nodded to you, his voice sounding like a father congratulating his child for a task done right, and a similar wave of relief washed over you. “Looks like it might lead us to Makarov anyway. But if it doesn’t, it’s your ass on the line, Riley.” 

“I’ll take that bet.” He crossed his arms, leaning backwards in a stance that you could only describe as a silent assertion of preeminence over the captain.

For the rest of the ride, you sat in a tense silence.

__

The trip to base was short, much to your delight and you did as Price told, making a beeline straight to the medic to escape the uneasy atmosphere of the chopper. He told you the exact same thing Price had told you, a minor head injury. 

“Clean it out and just go easy for the next week or two.” He advised you, and you scoffed.There was never going easy anymore, and it’s not like you had the downtime to sit still for two weeks straight even if you wanted to. Especially in the 141. 

When you told him that, the medic nodded, more so in reluctant, exasperated understanding that you wouldn’t sit still, not that you couldn’t. He simply handed you some ibuprofen to get you through the next week. With that, you gingerly made your way back to your room, which thankfully, you didn’t have to share with anyone except Laswell whenever she popped out of nowhere like she sometimes does.

The barren room was decorated with two bunk beds, a night stand, and a door leading into a bathroom with two showers in it. Industrial and barren, but you had made it your own with practically everything you owned scattered about wherever, as you didn’t have to pay any regard to a roommate. The privacy was a comfort you always revelled in, but especially so now when all you wanted was to be alone. 

A deep guilt settled within you as you shed your tactical gear, leaving you clad in just your jeans from earlier and an undershirt stained with blood, from who, you wouldn’t know. You let Ghost take the fall for you. He was in trouble because you fucked up, and it began to eat at you. It begged the question:

Why did he take the blame for you?

After this whole debacle, the colossal screw up, this was the first and last op you’d ever be on with the man, you had a sinking feeling that Ghost would make sure of it. You didn’t think him to be a stupid enough man to save your ass from Price more than once.

You opened the door to the bathroom, leaving it ajar. Turning on the sink, you began to wash the sins of the day off your face when you heard the sound of a door opening, then closed softly.

“Not in the mood, MacTavish.” You said without looking up, and there was no response. Normally he would’ve announced himself, or if he didn’t, you could at least hear his heavy footsteps a mile away. You turned off the faucet, drying off your face aggressively. “I told you, Soap. Not in the fucking moo- oh.”

You glanced in the mirror to find Ghost, a different mask on and dressed as casually as the man would allow himself to. He was clothed in simple grey sweatpants and a black sweatshirt, the hood pulled over his head to reach his brow bone, moussy and tousled bits of ashy hair poked downward. His mask had his signature skull teeth on it, but it only reached up to the bridge of his nose, and the black paint he normally sported around his eyes was fading and splotched. 

Ghost looked remarkably exhausted as he leaned his body against the door frame.

“Sorry. Thought you were MacTavish.” You rubbed your face, and Ghost maintained eye contact through the reflection of the mirror. He smirked half heartedly underneath the mask, so faint you could barely see it if you weren’t paying as much attention to him as you were. However, that half smirk quickly faded as he nodded his head towards you, beckoning you to say something. Anything, really.

“You’re a better person than me for taking the blame.” You admitted, taking his cue.

Ghost raised his eyebrows and scoffed. “An even better person would’ve fessed up.” 

You nodded in agreement, he was right. Infuriatingly so. A good person wouldn’t have let someone else take the blame for their screw up. Almost cocky at your concedence, he watched mutely as you finished your nightly routine, taming your locks that had gone so wild underneath the helmet you wore earlier, taking great care to avoid the still oozing wound on the back of your head. 

“Why did you even take the blame?” You asked as you put down the brush, and he shrugged.

“I know what it’s like.To lose it like that.” His eyes softened for a moment like the way they did just a few hours prior, and your foolish heart stupidly fluttered like a teenage girl getting asked out by her crush. “Back in the day, it got me in way worse trouble than you would’ve been in, though.”

It was a difficult thought to envision though, the lieutenant losing his mind a senseless rage, seeing red as you did? Calm, collected, he epitomized professionalism. Even through his volatile temperament, you could never imagine him letting his anger get the better of him.

“Why do you say that?” You furrowed your brows.

“The cap’ is different from most commanders.” He explained, not truly answering the question you asked, but you opted not to clarify. The past was clearly a sore spot for the man. “Old geezer’s got a soft spot for his team. When he found out you were compromised, the objective went straight out the window to save ya.”

“Oh.” Was all you could mutter at this pleasant revelation. “How do you know this?”

“I’ve known the man awhile.” He said simply, as he moved to stand a few feet behind you, even as he stood a decent distance behind you, the contrast in how much bigger he was than you was stark. Silence settled in the air once again, and you grabbed the bottle of hydrogen peroxide that sat on the edge of the sink, wetting a cotton ball with it.

“Why are you here, LT?” You pursed your lips, hoping to fill the quiet as you attempted to clean the wound. He stared at you for a moment, almost as if he was hesitant to answer. Normally, you wouldn’t prod, but instead you raised your eyebrows awaiting Ghost’s response.

“Do you want me to leave?” He scoffed, and that avoidance irked you to no end.

“Answer the fucking question.” You mumbled in frustration as you were trying to part your hair to find the wound.

“Eh, that’s need to know. You don’t.” He remarked, and you rolled your eyes at how painfully typical this was of him through what you knew of your few interactions with him. So arrogantly avoidant of whatever did not suit him. Seeing as he wouldn’t budge, that you would probably go the rest of your life without knowing why he, of all people, came to visit you in the dead of night, you let it go with a defeated sigh.

Turning your attention back to the task at hand, you struggled to separate your hair from your scalp to find the wound to clean it out. You fiddled with it for a few moments as Ghost watched before he intervened.

“Need help?” He asked, although it was more of a proclamation than a question. 

He approached you from behind, the height difference only becoming more evident as he was only inches behind you. Looking down at you through the mirror, his eyes remained questioning as to whether or not he could touch you, and you nodded. 

When you did so, his touch was gentle in a way you did not expect, his fingertips barely grazing against your hair as he parted it to find your scalp. Warmth radiated off his body as he stood remarkably close. It invoked the strangest mix of security and unease at his proximity.

His hands that you knew to be that of a killer’s felt more akin to that of an unsure lover.

“Breathe, sergeant.” He reminded you, and you hadn’t even realized your breath had hitched, your shoulders tensed and jaw tightened. “It ain’t gonna hurt that bad.”

“Sorry.” You breathed out. 

“Don’t apologize.” Ghost used the cotton ball in his to lightly press against the wound, cleaning it out. You hissed as the peroxide stung against your skin, but he continued on. One of his hands, which were pressing against your head to keep it in place, was remarkably calloused. They were rough and dry, marked by years of battles which he’d always unthinkingly throw himself into.

He made quick work of the wound, and when he finished, he patted it dry with a separate clean cotton ball. You could tell that he attempted to be as gentle as possible while doing so, and you relaxed into his touch unthinkingly. This security that you felt in the moment stood in strange juxtaposition to the normal mixed feelings you often had of Ghost.

He just seemed so safe in this moment.

This appeared to elicit no reaction from the masked man, not that you would be able to tell if it did anyways. Beyond the occasional smirk that creeped to his eyes or the furrow of his brow in his displeasure, you never did know what he was thinking unless he told you, which was almost never. 

“Turn around.” Ghost commanded, the bass of his voice that almost sounded like a growl sent shivers down your spine. Without missing a beat, you complied with his demand as you whipped around, gasping as he was now impossibly close. His chest pressing against yours and both his arms on either side of you, resting on the ledge of the sink as he leaned forward.

His face was now inches from yours, and his eyes held a gleam of possessiveness yet unsurety. In that once sad, lifeless stare, they were now like a burning hot coal beneath a flame. His hands moved to rest on your hips, his grip burning into you like white hot iron and he held you incredibly close, almost as if he let you go, you’d disappear forever. 

“Wha-?” You said, bewildered, your voice sounding breathless and whiny in a way that made Ghost nearly lose his composure.

“Don’t you ever do that again.” He growled, his grip becoming impossibly harder on your hips and you were sure that it would leave a mark.

“Do what?” You looked up at him, wide-eyed and innocent. He took in your features for a moment, your doe-eyed gaze that looked so pure and unimpeachable, so sweet and undeservingly kind to him. He let out a low groan, so low you could barely hear it.

“Scare m-.” He huffed. “It doesn’t fucking matter, okay?” His teeth were clenched and his eyes shut, his tone barely above a whisper, but rough and baritone all the same. “Just don’t be so careless. It’ll get you killed.”

“I-” You started, completely disoriented at this sudden shift in the lieutenant's behaviour. Here he was, this ruthless, faceless soldier who never gave anyone the time of day, let alone you, was holding you in his arms, afraid to let go for fear you’d scatter in the wind. For the first time, a touch of vulnerability in his half lidded gaze could be seen as his much taller body towered over you as he leaned down, your faces barely inches from each other. “I’m sorry.” Was all you could utter as he moved you away from the sink.

“Fuck.” He hissed, and in one swift motion, he pulled the mask just above his lips and leaned down even more to collide your mouths in a rough, teeth-gnashing kiss. Bewildered at first, you froze, but then as soon as you realized the situation at hand, perhaps against your better judgement, you reciprocated his passion in kind.

One of his hands moved to rest at the back of the base of your neck, the size of his palms practically engulfing it. He pulled you even closer as he bit at your bottom lip and you whimpered. You could feel a tent forming underneath the soft fabric of his sweatpants, and you palmed his cock. Ghost almost moaned as he pulled away.

“Look at me.” He demanded, and without missing a beat, you pulled away, looking up with those same doe-eyes that drove him buck wild, your hand still on his bulge that you could feel practically throbbing underneath the material of his pants. 

The hand that was previously resting on your hip brought itself to your chin, tilting it up even further to easier meet the colossal man’s gaze. Ghost’s thumb rested on your bottom lip, and unthinkingly, you opened your mouth.

Sliding his thumb onto your tongue, he nearly moaned as you began licking and sucking on it, as if it were no different to a cock. Or not just any cock, his cock. 

“Fuckin’ hell.”  He growled, his pupils blown wide with lust. “You’re going to be the death of me, sergeant.”

Removing his thumb from your mouth, he made quick work removing your t-shirt, leaving you clad in nothing but your sports bra. Pulling you back in, he palmed at your breasts, groaning into your mouth at the feeling of the flesh beneath his rough, calloused hands. 

Everything about him was so newly intoxicating, from his distinct scent of gunpowder and sweat to his large frame dominating yours, obfuscating your comparatively small figure underneath him, like an ocean washing over the land beneath it. The feeling of his rough, chapped lips against yours, his stubble irritating your flesh was something you didn’t know you wanted -- no needed, until now. 

You smiled against him, and when he felt it, he did not smile back. Instead, he went stiff in your arms as memories came flooding back to him. Ghost remembered the last time this happened and the hurt that ensued. It had been so long ago, yet he could remember it so clearly, as if the memory of that touch had been branded on his skin forever. He froze dead in his tracks.

“Stop.” He muttered lowly as he pulled away only slightly, still close enough so that your lips were barely grazing.

“Wha-?” You started, but were quickly interrupted by Ghost.

“I said fucking stop!” He yelled, pushing you back, rather harshly and your lower back roughly collided with the edge of the sink as you yelped in pain. You stumbled against the hard porcelain, your arms gripping the corners to help gain some balance, to no avail. You fell below the sink, and instinctively you gathered your knees to your chest. 

Your heart dropped when he made no move to help you up or apologize. Instead, he looked as if he was the cornered prey and you were the aggressor, as if he’d attack if you made any sudden moves.

You looked up towards him, fear evident in your face as he now stood on the opposite end of the bathroom. You did not recognize the man before you, now he was no longer the man that was holding you so tightly just seconds ago or that neutral but cold, shadowy figure in the corner of a room that he normally was.

Instead, Ghost was now a conflicted, fearful man, lashing out against the object of his desire. That much was evident in his eyes that were set into a hard, critical gaze attempting to present himself as composed, but was betrayed by his laboured breathing. His mask was now pulled beneath his chin.

“We will never speak of this.” He made every effort to keep his tone composed, cold, and calculating as it normally is, but even then, his voice shook as he struggled to contain himself. Ghost gave one last glance at you on the floor, your body curled in on itself in confusion and fear. “FUCK.” He bellowed as he stomped out the bathroom.

You heard the door to your quarters slam shut violently, the force of it shaking the walls.

[stardustbarbarians]

Cirice

Chapter 2 (ch. 1)

A Daniel Wagner / fem!reader series

Summary: You wanna deal with The Devil? You gotta live with it when he sets you on fire.

Tags: Demon!Daniel, angst

A/N: No trigger warnings this time around! This is probably going to be one of the softer chapters I publish for this fic. Just a head's up, it gets darker from here on out. Title taken from Cirice by Ghost. Dedicated to the lovely @samkooszka <3. Please enjoy reading!

Words: 3.6 k

+++

It only occurred to you the next morning that you failed to ask the demon when Jake’s hand would be repaired. You had been sipping your coffee and looking out the kitchen window above your sink when it struck you, slamming your mug down on the counter in frustration. Your annoyance only increased when you realized that you had spilled coffee everywhere and you would be the one having to clean it up. With a huff, you flick the liquid off your hands and rinse them off, grabbing a paper towel and wiping up the spilled drink. 

Checking the time, you realized that you were late in picking up Jake for his physical therapy. While he technically could drive himself, he hadn’t wanted to since his accident. None of you or the boys had wanted to push him into driving, so all four of you took turns driving him. And while your turn had been yesterday, you were doing Sammy a favor by taking in Jake. Rosie had a vet appointment so you offered to take his turn. 

Rushing with throwing on some clothes and shoes, you grab your keys and a coat and jog out to your car. As the engine roared to life, you startled as the radio jumped alive with the sound of Mick Jagger’s singing. 

Just as every cop is a criminal

And all the sinners saints

As heads is tails

Just call me Lucifer

'Cause I'm in need of some restraint

You shook your head and punched the off button on the radio. Of course the song was Sympathy For The Devil because why wouldn’t it be after what you had done last night? Even though the song had ceased filtering through your car speakers, it caused you to think about what you’d done. There was someone out there - whom you may or may not know - that just had half of their soul removed from their body. If removing a soul all at once was enough to instantly kill, what would happen to someone who had half of it taken away? Would they get sick? Would they go into a coma? Oh god, was there now someone hospitalized because of you?? 

That was all that consumed your mind as you made the drive over to Jake’s. It seemed as though your anxiety was on a loop of itself, repeating the same concerns over and over again. It would’ve convinced yourself that you were a bad person if you hadn’t already believed yourself to be. But, recently you have been trying to better yourself. There was a reason you had been willing to sacrifice your soul to the devil for Jake’s dreams. 

When you pulled into Jake’s driveway, you didn’t even need to call him to let you know you arrived. He came bounding out of his house and right up to your car. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t startle you slightly see him so excited. It had been months since he had been anything close to genuinely happy, so your surprise was a pleasant one.

When he reached your car, he pulled on the handle and then knocked on the window when he couldn’t get in. Snapping back into yourself, you press the button and he immediately yanked it open. A blast of cold air sent chills over your body as Jake slid into the front seat, slamming it closed behind him. His eyes were bright as he beamed excitedly at you; reminiscent of a child on Christmas morning. 

“Good morning, Jakey. You look chipper,” you greet, pulling your jacket tighter around you after you shivered. 

“Y/N, you’ll never fucking believe it. Last night - just out of the goddamn blue - my hand started to feel better. I haven’t felt like this in months and I just decided to throw caution to the wind and pick up my guitar; I played Highway Tune and I felt no pain. Then I just said ‘fuck it’ and went for The Weight of Dreams… I played it perfectly! I-I don’t know what’s going on… but I’m not going to look a gift horse in the fucking mouth. It’s some kind of… of miracle.” Jake exposited, his left hand stretching and flexing as he spoke on its own volition. There was disbelief lacing his words, amazement in his eyes and smile. When he concluded, he looked down at his once broken hand and watched himself flex it. 

You could feel yourself deflate with relief, your posture becoming less rigid as he shared with you the good news. It was only until he smiled up at you that you realized you failed to react to him. Schooling your face, you tried your best to look surprised. “Jake, that’s incredible!” 

You saw his smile dim at your words. You had never been a great actress. 

“Y/N… did you-?” 

Your heart pounded as he gazed at you so deeply with those soft brown eyes of his. The last time he had gazed at you like that, there were a lot less clothes on either of you and both of you were sweating-

“Y’know what? I don’t want to know what you did. Just… thank you. Thank you so fucking much,” he gently grabbed your hand with his newly fixed one, “you gave me my dream back.” 

You didn’t realize you were crying until you felt a tear roll down your cheek. Smiling, you kissed his hand in yours, wiping away your tear with your free hand. “Anything for you, Jakey.” 

You weren’t expecting him to pull you into a hug, but you also weren’t gonna complain. It was a tight one, but it was his way of showing his appreciation. The longer you embraced, the more you wanted to cry. You had to pull away after a moment, the tears stinging your eyes. 

“Alright, we’re gonna be late for your physical therapy,” you remind him, a watery laugh escaping your lips. 

“Oh, shit!” he exclaimed before running back into the house. He emerged a moment later with his guitar case in hand and a huge smile on his face as he hoisted it up for you to see. You couldn’t help but laugh at him, fond of actions. 

You popped the trunk of the car for him, shivering once again as the mid-winter air filtered into your car. 

“I kinda need this,” he commented with a smile before closing the trunk. 

“Have you told the boys yet?” you asked, putting the car in reverse after he buckled into the seat. 

“Not yet. I wanted to surprise them tonight over dinner.” 

You nodded as you kept your eyes on the road, turning the radio back on. 

“You’re coming too, babe. Just try and keep it a secret until then, alright?” 

That brought a smile to your face. You had thought that you were going to be included, but you also weren’t going to just invite yourself. You were so glad that you would be there to see all of Jake’s brothers have not only their careers back but Jake himself. It was clear that - even from your minimal interaction today - that he was back to his normal self. For the rest of the day, you forgot about that soul you squandered away. With Jake back to his normal self, it seemed entirely worth it. You’d suffer any and all torment hell would bring to you just to keep him smiling like that. 

+++

You had spent the day with Jake after his physical therapy. Due to his “miraculous” recovery, that was his last appointment he ever had to go to. After that finished, you two went to the grocery store in order to get supplies for the meal you would serve later that night. It was while you were browsing the produce aisle that you sent out the details for tonight out in the groupchat. Each of the boys responded by the time you checked out, surprisingly. It would often take them hours to respond if you were lucky and a few days at the latest. It was quite infuriating, but you had gotten used to it over time. 

“They all said they’re coming,” you informed Jake, looking over to him as he looked back and forth between different cloves of garlic. 

“What about Mackenzi? Is she coming too?” You didn’t miss the hesitance in his voice as he asked after Danny’s girlfriend. While you hadn’t been friend’s with Danny for nearly as long as the Kiszkas had, you did know that he was at his happiest when he had spent a long period of time away from her. She wasn’t the most pleasant person to be around; she always acted like she was better than everyone around her and wasn’t friendly towards you in particular. 

You looked back at the groupchat to double check Daniel’s message. “He just said ‘cool, I’ll be there’. So, probably not.” 

Jake nodded, placing one of the garlic cloves in the cart before pushing it towards another section. You were sure you weren’t meant to hear it, but under his breath you swear you heard him say “thank god”. It seemed you weren’t the only one who wasn’t a fan of Mackenzi. 

+++

Despite not being the best in the kitchen, you tried to help Jake where you could. He was thankfully patient with you as you fumbled your way around, asking for help when you needed it. 

“Jake! What do I do after chopping up this… what was it called again?” you ask, embarrassed at how whiny you sounded. But, you were overwhelmed by the sheer amount of what you didn’t know that it made you nearly want to burst into tears at times. 

“That’s green onion,” Jake gently informed, chuckling as he wiped his hands off on some paper towel. You felt your stress slightly fall as he smiled at you, making his way towards where you stood at the counter. 

“Of course it’s called green onion. It’s green and smells like onions,” you lamented, setting your knife down and holding your head in your hands. They smelled like onions. 

With another fond laugh, Jake gently pulled you into his arms. You didn’t move your hands as he wrapped you in an embrace, but you did rest your head against his shoulder. He placed a tender kiss on your forehead; you could feel the smile on his lips. “You’re doing great, love.” 

You tried to ignore the way the close proximity and the pet name made your heart jump. With a sigh, you pulled away and took a deep breath in order to calm your stress. You opened your eyes to see him smiling at you. He tucked a hair behind your ear, the look in his eye changing to something more… lustful. 

“You look lovely,” he purred, his hand lingering on your jaw. 

“Jacob?” 

“Yes?” 

“Your garlic is burning,” you inform him, tipping your head to point at the skillet on the burner. 

Turning his head and sniffing the air, he ran towards the stove. “SHIT!”

Laughing fondly, you go back to your green onions to chop up a few of the pieces that were on the bigger side. However, you were interrupted by a knock on the door. Looking over at Jake struggling with his garlic, you set your knife down and went to answer the door. 

“Hey, y/n! I wasn’t expecting to find you here yet,” Sam exclaimed as you opened the door. He pulled you into a hug after taking his jacket off, the smell of cigarette smoke filling your nose as he did. 

“Is that Sam?” you heard Jake call out from the kitchen. 

“Yeah-”

“Sammy boy! Get in here! I need your help!” Jake cut you off, his voice loud as he shouted. 

You and Sam shared a long-suffering look before he slipped his shoes off and grabbed the wine he had set down on the floor to bring into the kitchen. “He seems better.” 

“You have no idea.” You absently run your thumb over the bandage you wrapped around the hand you cut open for the ritual. 

You two walked into the kitchen, the smell of food cooking making your mouth water. Noticing your presence, Jake looks over his shoulder and smiles at you. He silently motions for his brother to join him by the stove with a tip of his head. Sighing, Sam passes the wine he had in his hand off to you, asking if you would put it in the fridge. 

Just as you had put the wine away, another knock on the door resounded through the house. Not even bothering to wait for Jake to ask, you walked back towards the front door. This time, you opened it to see the last Kizska brother at the door. 

“It’s cold as balls out there!” Josh exclaimed, pushing past you and into the house. “Hi, y/n!” 

His smile was huge as it usually was, shaking his head to get the snow out of his curls. He shrugged off his jacket and hung it on the coat rack before pulling you into a tight hug. “Hello, Joshie.” 

“So… how’s Jake doing?” he asked as the two of you walked towards the kitchen. There was concern filling his eyes that he attempted to hide with a smile. He didn’t do a good job, however. You could tell how nervous he was. 

“Well, I’m not the one who should tell you. But there’s a surprise at the end of the night that Jake wants to share with you guys,” you answer as you round into the kitchen. 

Josh’s smile got brighter after you spoke, the worry draining out of it. Josh didn’t even bother walking over to greet his brothers, just jumping up to sit on one of the far counters. He reminded you of a bird, the way he perched and observed the world around him. 

“Hey,” Jake and Sam both absently greet their oldest brother, consumed with preparing the meal. Josh didn’t seem bothered by his luke-warm welcome. He was used to his brothers getting lost in their cuisine. 

The minutes passed as Sam and Jake cooked, the four of you all having a good time in the kitchen. While you enjoyed yourself, there was something in the back of your mind that told you something was off. Glancing at your phone, you realized that Danny was almost half an hour late. Your brow knit at the realization, concern flooding your veins. 

“Hey, Sam, do you know if Danny said he was gonna be late?” you ask, walking up closer so he could hear you over the music playing over the speakers. 

“Why do you guys always ask me about Danny, huh? It’s not like we’re attached at the hip,” he griped, chopping another bit of green onion. Loud and sharp chops! cut through the air as his irritation took over. 

All three of you gazed at the youngest Kiszka, all of you having the same look of disbelief and doubt on your faces. Sam turned around to see everyone shooting that look at him, his face turning slightly pink at the attention. He haughtily returned to chopping, refusing to look at you all. 

“He mentioned that he would be a little late.” Sam finally relented, knowing that he was, in fact, the first to be informed about Daniel’s whereabouts and any new information from Daniel. None of you pressed for more despite knowing there was more to that story than Sam was telling. So, you all let it go and continued on. 

Right as you and Josh finished setting the table, you heard a knock. Sharing a look with Josh, you made for the front door. When you became the goddamn doorman, you had no idea. 

“Danny! You made it! How-” you stopped yourself short as you saw how red and puffy Daniel’s eyes were. He gave you a weak smile, his eyes glittering as he stepped into the light of the vestibule. 

“Hey, y/n,” he greeted, his tone watery and breakable. Your chest ached immediately at the sight, fighting the urge to pull him into a tight embrace and never let him go. 

“Are you ok? What happened?” you asked, tucking a loose curl behind his ear. Danny flinched away from the touch, his hand coming up to push yours away. 

“I’m… I’m fine. I’d rather not talk about it right now.” And with that, he quickly walked over to the bathroom. You heard the door slam behind him, your brow becoming creased as your concern for him doubled. 

Quickly making your way into the kitchen, you grab Sam by the shoulder and drag him away from Jake, the bassist whining the entire time. 

“Sam, shut up for fuck’s sake! I need you to do me a favor-”

“Oh, you want me to do something nice for you after you manhandle me-” 

“Daniel is crying in the bathroom right now,” you gritted out, pulling Sam’s ear close to you to keep your tone quiet. 

Instantly, Sam’s expression changed. All of the color drained from his face as he looked at you with wide eyes. “He what?” 

“I need you to go check on him for me,” you requested, knowing that if Danny was willing to talk to anyone, it was Sammy. 

“Of course. I’ve got this,” he rushed, all but sprinting down the hall to the door that sequestered Daniel behind it. 

While Sam handled Danny, you kept the twins distracted so that they wouldn’t ask any questions. While you knew that this was a matter that you should’ve included them in, you didn’t want to worry them too much. You just hoped that Sammy would be able to comfort Danny in the way he needed to be. 

+++

Dinner had been served, but Daniel and Sam didn’t emerge from the bathroom until most of the contents of your plate were eaten. You and the twins had made normal conversation, but the entire time it had been weighed down by the obvious fact that there was something going on with Daniel that none of you could assist him with. When the pair finally came to join the dinner table, the air changed immediately. 

As Sam guided Danny to his chair, a reassuring arm wrapped around his shoulders, there was an unadulterated rage burning fiercely behind his eyes that was barely contained. Danny avoided all eye contact, his head hanging in order to hide his sorrow stained eyes. Right when the bassist sat down, you caught his eye, silently asking him if Danny was alright. Clenching his jaw, Sammy subtly shook his head no. 

Josh cleared his throat, taking a sip of wine before offering rhythm section to serve them their dinner. Sam glanced at Daniel briefly before accepting. You and Jake shared a look, worry written all over both of your faces. 

“Do you think now is a good time?” he whispered, leaning in towards your ear. 

You glanced between the other three boys. There was such an air of fragile sadness between all of them that it broke your heart. “They need the pick-me-up.”

Jake looked you deep in the eyes before nodding. He agreed, they needed a win that night for sure. He brushed his fingers over your shoulder gently and shot you a small smile before he got up from his chair. He went unnoticed by the other three as he traveled down the hall to grab one of his guitars. He returned a minute or two later with his case in one hand and an amp and chord in the other. Only when he set them all down onto the floor did he get noticed by the other three. 

All conversation (whatever small and tense talk there was that was going on) ceased as all eyes turned to the guitarist. It continued to remain quiet as you all watched him set up his equipment. Josh eventually caught your eye, sending a questioning look your way. All you did was smile and point back at Jake. 

“So, I know that this is not the ideal time,” Jake glanced quickly over at Daniel, “but I wanted to show you guys… Well, it’s better if I just let my guitar do all the talking.” 

Glancing at you momentarily, you give Jake a reassuring nod and a smile. With a shaky breath, Jacob closed his eyes and began strumming his guitar. At first he started slow, playing basic riffs and chords. However, when it became clear that he became lost in the music he was playing, he got braver and started to play like he had back before the accident. Even though you already knew that Jake was back to previous skill level, you still felt the surprise and disbelief fill your veins as he played so elaborately that it took your breath away. When he concluded playing that’s when you realized you were crying. 

Finally opening his eyes, Jake smiled nervously. He cleared his throat and set aside the guitar. “So… yeah… that’s what I wanted to show you.” 

“Jake…” Sam spoke, completely stunned as the reality of the situation hit him. 

The sound of a chair scraping against the floor and then falling on the floor preceded Josh pulling his twin into a bone crushing embrace. From the way his shoulders were shaking it seemed that he was crying. Jake, albeit stunned, wrapped his arms around Josh, his eyes closing as he accepted the hug. 

Sam was quick to follow, wrapping his arms around his brothers and resting his head atop Jake’s. There was a huge, beaming smile on his face as you noticed a tear slip out of one of his eyes. Danny was close behind, a watery but proud smile on his lips as he rested a hand on Jake’s shoulder. You remained in your seat, watching the moment unfold before you. 

It was worth it. Whatever terrible, horrible consequences that you certainly would have to face would be worth that moment. 

At least, that’s what you believed for the first few months. 

+++

Taglist:

@doodle417 @sammykiszkasunusedshoes @jmks-housewife @alwayssotiredbutneverofyou @ageoferin @etoilesnoor @ascendingtostardust @godlygreta @s0livagant @gretavanflowerpower @morganic-goods @dannythedog @baguettejuliette @fan-girl-97 @gaby-gvf @age-of-nyahh @mzbrightside @myownparadise96 @xserenax-13 @sammysvanfeet @strugglingtodoshit @loofypoofy @chalametpwk @seventieswhore @razorbladekiszka @unfortunatelykristin @welightthefire @gretavanfleas @sammiejane22 @satanplayshisfluteforhim @starsasone @mintysammykiszka @writingcold @tearsofbri @teddiie @gardensgatedaisy @sparrowofthedawnsworld @angelbabyyy99 @whollyfreeamongststars @gretaswhore28 @l0rdoffli3s @kay-jordan @lightmyloverry @kenzie18 @gotavansleep @roosterbbradley @freckled-wonder @flower-power-anthem @gabyvanfleet @sarakay-gvf @mamalikes-gvf

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[ao3feed-crimeboys]

A Candle Casting A Faint Glow

by alastair_has_stairs

Grumbling, Tommy pulls himself out of bed. He yanks his door open, and Wilbur grins. "Hi, baby. Have you seen my sweaters? Or my orca sweatpants?" Wilbur asks knowingly, eyes crinkling with how hard he's grinning. Tommy scowls, rubbing at his eyes.

"No." He lies, stumbling forward and crashing into Wilbur's chest. Wilbur sputters in surprise at the sudden impact, but wraps his arms around Tommy regardless.

"Brat." Wilbur huffs fondly, running a hand up and down Tommy's back, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. "Shut the fuck up." Tommy mumbles, burrying his face in the brunette's shoulder. "No, no I don't think I will actually, sweetheart." Wilbur chuckles, resting his cheek on the side of Tommy's head.

Or; Tommy's favourite hobby is stealing Wilbur's clothes.

Title from Cirice by Ghost.

Words: 1892, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 20 of Dadbur brainrot, Part 2 of Thievery is a lifestyle

Fandoms: Dream SMP, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen

Characters: Wilbur Soot, TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF)

Relationships: Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit

Additional Tags: Protective Wilbur Soot, Possessive Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot is TommyInnit's Parent, Wilbur Soot Acting as TommyInnit's Parental Figure, TommyInnit is a Menace (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit is Loved (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot Loves TommyInnit, TommyInnit Loves Wilbur Soot, Pet Names, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Kissing, Thief TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), oh my god that's a tag, Sweaters, gotta love 'em, Sharing Clothes, kind of, Tommy just steals them, Soft Wilbur Soot, Soft TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur is platonically in love with Tommy and would give him the world if he wanted it, which reminds me, everything is platonic!!, No weirdos please :), I'll take your kneecaps, Clingy Wilbur Soot, Clingy TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Hehe they love each other, Fluff, Comfort No Hurt, Domestic Fluff, Crimeboys - Freeform, dadbur, Swearing, Rated T for TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF)

[ao3feed-peterparker]

I CAN FEEL THE THUNDER THATS BRAKING IN YOUR HEART!!

by Copias_emotional_support_cup This is what if Jefferson Morales dies   Idk what else to put just read and find out. the title is lyrics from cirice by ghost =p this is not done I posted so it doesnt reset sorry Words: 101, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Spider-Verse (Sony Animated Movies) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: Other Characters: Miles Morales, Miguel O'Hara, Spot | Bagel Guy (Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse), Peter Parker, Hobie Brown, Jessica Drew, Gwen Stacy | Spider-Gwen, Pavitr Prabhakar, Rio Morales, Lyla | LYrate Lifeform Approximation (Earth-928), Miles Morales | Prowler (Marvel Earth-42), Aaron Davis (Marvel Earth-42), Peter Porker, Peter Benjamin Parker | Spider-Man Noir, Ben Reilly Relationships: Hobie Brown & Miles Morales, Miles Morales & Spot | Bagel Guy (Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse), Jessica Drew & Miguel O'Hara & Peter Parker, Miles Morales & Pavitr Prabhakar, Hobie Brown/Miles Morales Additional Tags: Vigilante Miles Morales, Dead Jefferson Morales (Earth-1610), Feral Miguel O'Hara, Mild Language, Depression via https://ift.tt/85htTCF

[stardustbarbarians]

Cirice

A Daniel Wagner / fem!reader series

Upcoming

Summary: You wanna deal with The Devil? You gotta live with it when he sets you on fire.

Tags: Demon!Daniel, angst, smut, Catholic imagery, humor (more to be added)

A/N: Trigger warnings will be added at the top of each chapter. We've got demon fics for the Kiszka's, I figure it's Daniel's turn. Title taken from Cirice by Ghost.

Chapter one posted!

Link to be added to the taglist can be found here

[stardustbarbarians]

Cirice

Chapter 1 (ch. 2)

A Daniel Wagner / fem!reader series

Summary: You wanna deal with The Devil? You gotta live with it when he sets you on fire.

Tags: Demon!Daniel, angst, Catholic imagery, humor

Trigger Warnings: Injury, hospitals, blood

A/N: Big shout out to @t00turnttrauma for helping me out with this fic as well as just genuinely being one of my favorite people <3. Also dedicating this to @samkooszka and I hope this makes your day better after working in hell all day. Title taken from Ghost’s Cirice. This will be a pretty dark fic, but more along the lines of a dark comedy. That being said, I'm so sorry Jakey. Anyway, please enjoy!!

Words: 3.8 k

+++

It had been a normal day… 

That’s how these stories typically are meant to start, right? That everything was normal and peachy keen and then on a dime the world shifted beneath us all like a magnitude 9 earthquake? Well, while the earth did feel like it was collapsing around us that day, it was far from normal… 

“Someone call 911!!” came Josh’s frantic scream as he raced over to his twin, all but ripping the seatbelt off of himself. Jake’s wails of pain rang throughout the warehouse of the racing strip, everyone freezing as the reality of the situation hadn’t fully set in. 

You sat on the side of the track and watched as Josh struggled to free Jake from the rolled over go kart he was pinned under. You couldn’t move. You didn’t know how to in that moment. 

“For the love of god, help me!!” At Josh’s desperate plea, Danny and Sam finally left their karts and assisted in rolling Jake’s kart back to its upright position. They all gasped as they saw Jake’s left hand, all disfigured and already bruising. It had been pinned under the kart, all 170 lbs of it - not including Jake’s own body weight. 

Tears were streaming down the guitarist’s cheeks as he tried to move it, unwilling to see the damage as he pinched his eyes shut. That was the most painful part of the entire experience. Jake already knew something was wrong long before anyone else. 

He had been rushed to the hospital as soon as the ambulance arrived, Josh riding along with him in the emergency vehicle. You, Danny, and Sam all drove together to the emergency room. It had been dead silent in that car. The only noise that could be heard was the occasional sniffle from one of you three. 

When you finally arrived, Josh was pacing in the waiting room. Upon spotting you, he threw his arms around you and cried. He informed you that Jake had been rushed into emergency surgery in order to try and set his broken bones. You could feel your heart sink and your blood run cold as the information sank in. Not knowing what to say in order to comfort one of your best friends, you simply wrapped your arms around him tighter and let him sob into your shoulder. 

It had seemed like an eternity while all four of you waited to hear any word about Jake. You watched as the boys all slowly unraveled around you, all going through the varying stages of grief. It didn’t take a psychic to know what they were all three were thinking about. Sam was pacing back and forth and gouging a rut into the floor, his brow never unfurrowing and making him look older than he was. Daniel wouldn’t stop shifting in his seat, often being the one to go up and ask the front desk about any updates on Jake. Josh sat completely motionless in his chair as the grief and worry over his twin paralyzed him.

Finally, after hours of agonizing worry, one of the surgeons came out to tell them that the surgery was a success and that he was asking for them. Josh immediately ran to Jake’s room as soon as he heard the number, everyone else following behind. You walked in to see a weak and pale Jake hooked up to machines, gazing tearfully at his twin brother talking to him. You felt as if you wanted to throw up seeing him like that. It was wrong, Jake had always been so lively and vivacious and now he was struggling to keep a neutral face. No matter how much he tried to school his lips out of a grimace, you could see the anger burning fiercely in his eyes. 

“Hey, Jakey,” you tenderly greet, very sheepishly slipping into the room and in front of his view. His gaze moved over to you, the unfettered rage pinning you in place before he blinked it away. Those beautiful brown eyes returned to normal, looking pained and tired more than angry anymore. 

He looked over to see Danny and Sam huddled to the left side of him. It was clear they were trying to not look too obviously at his bandaged hand. “Welcome to my humble abode for the time being, glad you all got my invitations.” 

It felt inappropriate to laugh, but you knew it would make him feel better. He sent you a small smile at the sound of your giggling. 

“So, what’s the news? How are you doing?” Sammy asked, his voice breaking with concern. 

“Well, my bones are all set. They said that the bones need to heal properly before they can go in and put in the pins, which will take a month to a month and a half. And then I’ll have to recover from that surgery before I can even start physical therapy,” Jake explained, his voice gaining more and more bitterness to it as he continued. 

The room went silent, save for the beeping of machines and rustling of commotion out in the hallway. There was a clear elephant in the room that refused to be addressed, but it suffocated each and every one of you. 

With a sigh, Jake was the one to speak again. “Fine. Since no one else is willing to address it, I will. We’ve gotta go on hiatus.” 

It was as if Jake had fired off a gun with how everyone else reacted. The other four in the room had all recoiled at the notion, their brows knit with concern and confusion. All four had tried to speak at once, cooing out denials and suggestions other than the obvious. 

“Guys, we can’t fucking have a rock band when the guitarist can’t move his hand!” Jake shouted, clearly impatient with their sympathy. He didn’t want to be coddled, he wanted to face reality. 

“Jake, are you sure? We can just pause the tour and-” 

“Daniel, with all due respect, shut the fuck up. We have no idea how long it will take for me to get back my strength - or if I’ll ever be able to play again.” 

And there it was. The elephant had finally trumpeted loud enough to gain the attention of the room. It would no longer be ignored. 

It was as if all the air had been sucked out of the room, everyone afraid to even breathe. You watched as Jake tried to fight his tears, anger and heartbreak flooding his eyes as he came face to face with the reality that his dream had been cut tragically short. He had come so far only to lose it all in a matter of a second. 

“Alright. We’ll talk to our team,” Sam offered, grabbing Daniel by the arm and walking out of the room. 

You had gone to say something to offer your sympathy, but the moment you looked into Jake’s eyes you bit your tongue. He didn’t want sympathy. All he wanted was his hand back - his dream life back. He also wanted to be left alone from the way he seemed to plead silently with you. 

“C’mon Josh, let’s go get something to eat.” Grabbing the singer by the hand, you led him out of the room in order to grant Jake’s silent wish. Before you left, you glanced back towards the guitarist to catch a glimpse of tears rolling down his face. With your heart cracked, you closed the door behind you. 

+++

The car was silent as you drove Jake back to his house, the air so thick with tension that you felt as if you were being smothered. Jake refused to look in your direction, his gaze remaining locked on the shapes passing by the window. Despite the music filtering through the speakers, it was completely tense. 

“So, how’d physical therapy go-”

“It was fine.” Jake’s reply was stiff and curt. That anger filled his tone that seemed to have been there for months. Ever since the accident, he was always angry. You suppose he had a right to be, but also you were running out of patience. 

“Really? Because you don’t seem fine,” you snap, growing tired of his attitude. 

“Fine. You really wanna know so fucking bad?! I’m making absolutely no progress and the PT said it’s unlikely I’ll ever be able to play like I used to! That’s how it’s going!!” His voice made your ears ring from how loud he was shouting. 

You quickly glanced away from the road to look at your best friend, his eyes brimming with tears as his face was red with anger. You felt your blood grow frigid at the news, Jake clearly not really ready to talk about it quite yet but you pushed him to. 

“My career is over, y/n!! That dream I’ve had since I was a baby is fucking dead!!” Jake raved, his voice cracking under the weight of his despair. Your chest ached at the pain in his tone, your own eyes welling up with tears as the meaning of his words sank in. He was right. His dream was shattered; he lost it right when he started to believe that he made it. 

It was that moment - seeing Jake’s complete hopelessness - that you vowed that you would do whatever it took to get Jake's dream back. You refused to sit by and let the cruel hand of fate destroy that light inside the eyes of someone you loved. Reaching across the center console, you gently wrapped your hand around Jake’s wrist. You then brought his hand up to your lips, kissing the back of it. 

“It will get better, Jakey. You’ve just gotta believe me,” you forecasted, already having a plan in mind. You knew it was stupid and dangerous and probably wouldn’t even work, but you had to try. 

+++

Feeling like a teenager rebelling against your parents once again, you scoured your book collection from high school. You knew it was in here somewhere, but the question was which book. You remember storing those pages you ripped out of library books in one of your books that you never really read as a teenager, but your memory had faded since the time you were fifteen. That meant you had to flip through every single one of your books and hope that you hadn’t donated the one you were looking for. Finally, you reached the start of your Stephen King novels. You grabbed your copy of Carrie, quickly flipping through the pages when loose paper fluttered to the floor near your feet where you had crossed your legs. Setting the book aside while also rolling your eyes at your own actions, you picked up the pages and unfolded them. 

Of course I hid them in Carrie

Holding the familiar paper in your hands, you flipped through the loose leafs of pages and read through the slightly faded words and symbols. Your memory was jogged with reading through these very same pages under your covers, using a small pen light to be able to see them. Of course, back then you had no intentions of ever putting this knowledge into practice. You had merely read them as an act of defiance to your parents forcing you to be raised catholic. 

However, seeing all those satanic symbols staring you right in the face once more knowing full well you were about to wield the spells they contained, that same terror that had been instilled in you since birth had sprung forth from your bones and into your bloodstream. Gulping and closing your eyes, you forced yourself to calm down. There was no use in indulging in your religious trauma when there was no guarantee that any of this satanic stuff was real. 

Getting to your feet, you left your attic and read through the ingredients you needed for the spell. Chicken feet, gold candles, pig’s blood, bloodstone, chalk, dried hyssop, three crow feathers, and a snake skull. The candles, chicken feet, bloodstone, chalk, and pig’s blood you’d be able to get fairly easily - there was a butcher’s shop about five minutes away as well as a wiccan store down the road. The other stuff would have to be ordered online unless by some miracle the wiccan shop had them. You decided to call ahead, facing down your phone anxiety for Cob; he better be fucking thankful after all you’re going through. 

Thankfully, the wiccan shop had just what you needed as well as the butcher’s. So, it seemed that you would be conducting the ritual tonight. A stab of fear lanced through your chest as you realized what that meant. If this turned out to be a real spell, there would be a real, live demon in your house. And you would make a deal with it. 

+++

You had gathered all that you needed for the summoning. Now you just had to follow the instructions on the page. Taking the chalk, you drew the symbol on the page onto the cement of your basement floor. It was not nearly as neat as the printed one, but it was close enough that wouldn’t cause any confusion. Next, you took the wooden bowl filled with pig’s blood - your salad bowl, ironically - and crushed the dried hyssop into the crimson liquid and mixed it in. 

Taking the bloodstone, you submerge it in the blood, wincing at the feeling. You had intentionally let it sit out so that it would be room temperature and not cold; you don’t think you would’ve been able to stomach it cold. Placing the stone in the center of the symbol, you then set the snake’s skull atop the coated bloodstone. Next, taking a chicken’s foot, you dip the largest toe in the blood and draw another symbol inside the large one while chanting in Latin, setting the foot atop the symbol you drew. You repeated that two more times before completing the set up by placing the crow feathers so that they connect each foot towards the skull and the stone. 

Before the last step in the process, you lit the candles and set them around the large symbol. Closing your eyes, you then reached for the pocket knife you had laying by your leg. Unsheathing the blade with a press of a button, your hand shook as you double-checked the next step. You had read it correctly: you needed your own blood. Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes as you dragged the sharp blade across your palm. Your entire hand stung as you set the knife off to the side, dipping the fingers of your free hand into your blood. You once again began chanting in Latin as you drew the same symbol you used for the chicken feet onto the skull. With that final step, the incantation was complete. 

Having thought ahead, you grabbed the gause you brought and wrapped your bleeding palm with it. Disappointment flooded your system as the seconds passed as nothing happened. You had half hoped that it would work so that your effort was not wasted, but it seemed that all your parents’ worrying about demonic forces was for naught; it didn’t even fucking exist and you just proved it. They had feared a boogie man all their life that was as harmful as their shadow. 

With a sigh, you begin cleaning up the mess you made on your floor. You were so thankful that you hadn’t been holding the bowl of pig’s blood when you heard a voice behind you; it would’ve gone flying. 

“Well, I haven’t seen this spell used in years,” a female voice chimed, causing you to yelp and drop the pocket knife you just thankfully closed. 

Spinning around you come face to face with a stunning woman that made your heart pound. She had long sandy blonde hair styled in the style of a 50s bombshell starlet, her winged eyeliner and scarlet lips adding to that appearance. Keeping with the red theme, she wore a bright red low cut mermaid dress with a lace bodice. Red opera gloves painted her arms as well as sparkling diamond bangles. She was a total knockout, her eyes smoldering and seductive. Her smile was enrapturing, even the smallest curve at the corner of her lips was enough to make your heart beat out of your chest like a Looney Tunes cartoon. 

“Uh-” you clear your throat after your voice breaks, “who are you and how did you get here?” 

The woman smiled, your breath getting caught in your throat. She then chuckled amusedly, taking a few steps towards you. “You summoned me here, darling.” 

She had a very subtle but enticing rasp to her voice. It made you want to pay attention to everything she said, but it also was so distracting that it caused you to lose focus on the actual words. 

“I…did?” 

With a deep but annoyed sigh, the woman rolled her eyes. With a blink of her eyes, they turned completely blood red. You stumbled back at the sight, wholly unprepared to see such a thing. 

“Believe me now, sweetheart?” Her tone was purely condescending, but you didn’t seem to mind all that much. You shook your head yes; you knew she wasn’t human. 

“S-So… Miss Demon- do I call you that?” you nervously ask, very afraid of making her mad. 

“Haley is fine, darling,” the demon - Haley - corrected, adjusting her hair by fluffing it at the end a little. 

“Ok…” 

“Well, let’s get to business,” she prompted, blinking and turning her eyes back to their normal brown. 

“Right,” you tucked your hair behind your ear, feeling very underdressed in Haley’s presence despite the fact you were standing in your own dingy basement. 

“I don’t have all night, sweetheart. Spit it out!” 

Her yelling snapped you into action, remembering why you had summoned her in the first place. “I need you to fix Jake Kiszka’s hand and make it work how it did before his accident.” 

“Well, you certainly have expensive taste,” Haley commented, that seductive tone back in her words and features. You didn’t like the way her eyes glittered with mischief as she looked you up and down. 

“What do you mean ‘expensive taste’?” 

“Not every demon deal requires a soul, baby. I thought you would’ve known that considering your teenage rebellion phase and reading up on demons,” she slightly taunted, a laugh in her tone. If she weren’t so goddamn beautiful you would’ve been really annoyed by her. 

“But… this one does? Why? It’s just Jakey’s hand-” 

“The hand of one of history’s greatest guitar players, darling. Don’t think I don’t know exactly who you’re bargaining for. Got a bleeding heart for your little boy toy, huh?” She took another step closer to you, her stilettos clicking against the concrete. 

With a heavy sigh, you grit your teeth against the annoyance you were feeling towards the demon. “Alright, you can have my soul for Jake’s hand-” 

“Oh, sweetheart, that’s very noble of you, but you’re already hell bound. I need a soul that’s taking the stairway, not the highway,” she interrupted, adjusting her hair once again. She had a brilliantly charming smile across her face, her teeth perfectly white. Her laugh, while slightly belittling, managed to pull you back in. 

“Hell bound??” That was certainly news to you. 

“Darling, you’ve broken four of the ten commandments. There’s no coming back from that.” 

Your mind was racing as you tried to figure out just which four - well, two you were certain you broke. Deciding that now wasn’t the time, you brought your focus back to the demon in front of you. 

“Whose soul will you need, then?” 

“Let’s just say it’s gonna be someone you’re… close with. Or, will be,” she cryptically answered, bringing a gloved finger to her chin, that charming glint shining in her eyes. 

You began racking your brain as to who she could be hinting at. Really, that could be anyone and you knew asking Haley for a definitive answer would be a bust. She wouldn’t tell you because if you knew for certain you would be less likely to deal. However, what you did know for certain was that taking a soul from someone would cause instant death if it was done quickly. “Alright, fine. But you have to promise me that you won’t kill whoever you’re thinking of right away.” 

Haley sighed, rolling her eyes. “Humans…” she muttered under her breath. 

“Whatever. Since I like you and the soul your bargaining is quite valuable, I promise not to take the soul away all at once. But, I’m taking half up front - think of it as an advance,” she informed, taking one more step closer to you. She was now in your personal space, her beauty overwhelming to your senses. One would think you’d be used to otherworldly beauty having been around the likes of the boys, but she was just incomparable. 

Without even really thinking, you nodded your head. While it was cruel to have the soul slowly and methodically leached out of them, it wouldn’t result in death. And you were doing it to save Jake’s dream… that had to count for something, right? 

“Do we have a deal?” Haley asked, her voice smoldering and dripping sex as she leaned in towards your ear. 

Just as you were about to say yes - the word on the tip of your tongue - you stopped. There was something that made absolutely no sense in this deal. “Wait- how am I able to bargain away a soul that’s not even mine?” 

“Semantics, angel. Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head over,” the demon placated, her gloved hand coming up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. The action made you shiver, unaware that that was something you were into. 

“But-” 

“So,” she interrupted again, “do we have ourselves a deal?” 

You opened your eyes to find that she was smirking again, inches away from your face. Your heart picked up its pace, your throat becoming dry as butterflies feverishly fluttered in your stomach. 

“Yes,” you breathe. You go to extend her hand so she can shake it and officially seal the deal when you feel Haley’s hand slither to the back of your head and push you into your lips. You let out a small whine at the feeling of her lips against yours, wholly unprepared and - admittedly - overjoyed at the notion that you were kissing such a beautiful person. 

You were deeply disappointed and annoyed when she pulled you away by your hair, her knowing laugh enough to make your cheeks pink with embarrassment. 

“Don’t fret, baby. You’ll see me again in hell someday,” she mused, “but in the meantime, Jake’s hand will be repaired.” 

With one last seductive smile, she snapped her fingers and disappeared from sight. Now that you were alone, the weight of what you had just done crushed you like a falling grand piano from the heavens. Your guilt felt crippling as you realized you just sold someone else’s life away and you didn’t even know who. 

+++

A/N: The crossroads demon I used in this fic is based off the singer Haley Reinhart and I highly encourage you to look up her music. Not only does she have an incredibly amazing voice but she's also stunningly gorgeous.

Taglist:

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[xxnashiraxx]

Sunday reminder! 🖤🖤

Just thought I'd attach this nice little screenshot I had that I didn't know where to fit in previously ❤ Hope you all have a great week!

With Stars to Fill My Dream (7) - From Now Our Merge is Eternal

I'm releasing chapter 7 early!!!! ❤

Please have my girl in her new hard af fit, about to be traumatized next chapter. Lets goooooooo.

I'm setting up Ofelia's and Astarion's relationship, just the bones, it's so hard to write these two idiots sometimes. Forgive any grammatical errors I really tried to proofread this a billion times first. :")

Thank you guys!

Summary: A street-smart, musically inclined human girl with a tragic past gets abducted by a nautiloid after her painfully average shift at a retro singing diner. What's worse- putting your all into Olivia Newton-John and Travolta for lousy tips, or getting your guts ripped out by a gnoll? Or worse- getting turned into a hideous humanoid squid? Ofelia Montez will have to see if she can survive long enough to find out.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Mentions of past abuse and trauma. Canon-typical violence and gore.

Word Count: 8,238

Opening below the cut!

Sparks of red and gold flash behind his eyes as Astarion sits against a tree, the breath that fills his lungs and pushes outward again makes him feel almost alive. Every scent feels more powerful- even his sight is sharper. He can see the individual feathers of a hawk circling above, looking for its next meal.

He’s chosen a view of the sunrise today, and whether it's his freshly sated appetite or something else, it looks more beautiful this morning than ever before. Granted he hadn't had the chance to see it before these last few days in as long as he can remember, but still… Ofelia’s blood has made him feel like himself again. Maybe more than he has since he’s been dead.

No flush colors his cheeks when he thinks of their union- he does regret the intimate nature of the bite, but even knowing its troublesome side effects, he’d have done it all again just the same, perhaps aside from not properly asking her first.

She’d been so willing, and that fact wasn’t lost on him. Why? He can’t fathom it. No matter how hard he pours over her every word and subtle expression, he doesn’t know why she’d said yes. Stupidity? Curiosity? Some strange notion of compassion? Pity?

He grits his teeth, though he can’t find it in himself to stay irritated. He can’t stop thinking about the taste, the warmth in his skin now, all of it. How can he secure this strange partnership between them? She isn’t like his usual marks. She’s intelligent but stupid. Kind, but petty. Soft, yet tough. She doesn’t seem to be receptive to his more flirtatious remarks, but perhaps he isn’t trying the right kind. All he’d had to do before was bat his lashes and flatter his prey, but with her it’s different. Her keen eyes search for something deeper- a connection.

The kind she looks for isn’t something he has. Mutual trust? Banish the thought. He’d sooner flee their odd little group of misfits than confess to Ofelia a genuine emotion of his. Or thought. She’d find some use for it, no doubt- keep it stowed away for her benefit someday. She’s just enough of a wildcard that if he yields a sliver of control to her, she may see the opening and go for his throat. He’s smarter than that.

Perhaps he’ll manufacture lies for her? Pretty ones? She’s young and impressionable- perhaps she’ll be swayed by them. He can feed her some truth, just enough to gain her trust, and perhaps secure future feedings and a warm bedroll. Astarion’s nothing if not a master of deception- the scores of victims trailing behind him speak for themselves. He’ll resort to the one thing he knows best- luring with his looks to keep her hooked so he can stay fed and safe while he figures out how to remove his old master from the equation.

After that’s through, he’ll be rid of her and the parasite.

He ignores the odd little twinge in the back of his mind- likely the worm. When he stands, his limbs stretch, and his muscles flex, the breeze coming off the river balmy and carrying the promise of another hot day. He’ll go find her and thank her, see if he can begin this dance he’s set out before himself.

And hide her marks from the rest of their companions…