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yeoja-dream · 3 months

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Found/Fated/Forever

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Pairing: BTS OT7 x Reader Genre: Fantasy, eventual smut, porn with plot, slow burn, hurt/comfort Characters: Supernatural!BTS, Vampire!Jungkook, Supernatural!Reader Content Warning: Y/N in danger, medical scene & terminology Word Count: 3k

Jungkook held your body, cool, clammy, and lifeless in a state of panic. He didn’t mean to go that far, he thought desperately. He put his head on your chest and prayed to any gods that would listen that he hadn’t killed out outright, and a tiny blip of relief washed over him when he hurt the faint, slow beating of a heart. It wasn’t too late.

“What am I supposed to do?” He said, anxiously pacing. The idea hit him suddenly. If there was someone that could help, it was Namjoon.

Jungkook picked up your body, handling and cradling it like it was the most delicate flower. Standing in the middle of your apartment, in a puff of dark smoke, Jungkook willed the two of you to disappear, then reappear again on the roof of the largest general hospital in your city. At this time, the morning sun had begun cresting over the horizon, its warm rays falling onto the two of you. Jungkook for the first time felt his grip on you weaken and his muscles begin to strain and ache under your weight. Where you were weightless to him before, the sunlight was weakening him considerably. He wasted no further time dashing into the rooftop access door and into the hospital proper.

If Jungkook knew Kim Namjoon, and he was certain he did, he knew that it was almost certain that Namjoon hadn’t yet gone home from his shift as an emergency room attending. Jungkook hadn’t been to the hospital often, the stench of alcohol, death, blood, and other bodily fluids was overwhelming to his heightened senses and churned his stomach. Looking to blend in, he used the glamour magic afforded to him, disguising both of your forms as he navigated the halls, appearing to be just another doctor carrying a box of medical equipment. He paused, closing his eyes and concentrating, mentally pulling and tugging at the bond he shared with the older man.

Where are you? I am here.

Office. The bond answered back.

It wasn’t long until he was in front of the office of Dr. Kim Namjoon. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door.

Inside was a tired-looking, young man, busily typing and scratching down notes on a piece of paper. As Jungkook entered, he looked up, his expression initially pleased at seeing his mate quickly turned to one of shock and horror at what he was carrying.

“Hello Jungk-” Namjoon cut himself and stood suddenly from his desk, seeing the body he carried in his arms. “What the hell is this?”

“Help her, please,” Jungkook begged. “I can explain more later.”

Namjoon walked over, feeling for a pulse. “Did you do this to her?” He asked, his voice grave.

“Yes,” Jungkook replied, ashamed.

“Well you didn’t kill her,” Namjoon stated with a sigh. “She needs urgent treatment. Disguise yourself and bring her up to the 8th floor, B corridor, last room on the left. We will have a bit more privacy that way. I will be up right behind you.”

With a simple nod of solemn understanding, Jungkook turned on his heel, and made haste out of the office, following Namjoon’s instructions carefully. The B corridor on the 8th floor was sparsely populated, it appeared to be mostly storage for patient care monitors and machines, Jungkook noted passively. He tried the door of the aforementioned room, finding it unlocked, before letting himself in. The room was minimal, with a bed made up with only a pillow and a single fitted sheet, a bedside monitor, and a chair. Jungkook quickly laid you down on the bed before drawing the blinds to prevent any additional sunlight from getting in, it was making him feel like shit enough as it was.

It wasn’t much longer after Jungkook entered that Namjoon entered as well. He came, backpack slung over a shoulder and pushing a rolling table. Wordlessly, he unpacked the supplies and began setting you up on the monitors.

“Her pulse is thready, weak, and slow, but it's there. Regular rythm.” Namjoon noted out loud to no one in particular. “Her blood pressure is really low so I’m going to have to start her on a blood transfusion and fluids. Is that going to bother you, or do I have to kick you out?”

Jungkook shook his head emphatically. Namjoon nodded in understanding, but stood in place, unmoving.

“DO something!” Jungkook insisted, anxiously.

“I can count the number of times I’ve placed an IV on one hand and as for the IV pumps, they might as well be set to a foreign ancient language. I promise I am the last person you want handling this stuff. I’ve already paged my nurse, Clara. She should be here any moment.”

As if divinely timed, the door handle jiggled and opened, and a short, stout, human walked in. Clara was the veteran nurse of veteran nurses. She had been working since she graduated at the age of 22, she could place an IV in your forehead, she could run a code blue better than most of the resident doctors, and she was wise enough to know when to not ask too many questions.

“I got your page, Dr. Kim,” Clara said, walking in, and quickly assessing the situation.

“Clara, we are running a hypovolemic protocol on this patient. She needs bilateral peripheral IVs, 1-liter Lactated ringers at 120 milliliters an hour, packed red blood cells should run at 200 milliliters an hour, and platelets at 400. Take whatever blood you can and run a CBC, Jane Doe, stat. I have all the supplies here.”

“Yes, doctor,” Clara responded before quickly getting started. Clara worked fast and efficiently, with a work ethic born from years in the emergency room. Sliding the IVs in place, she expertly set up the fluids and blood products to transfuse and finally drew a vial of blood for testing. “I am going to run this to the lab. Will you be doing the transfusion monitoring, Doctor?”

“Yes. Thank you, Clara, for your work and your discretion,” Namjoon said, dismissing her. She excused herself with a simple head nod, and the two men were again alone in the room.

“She’s going to get better now, right?” Jungkook asked, bouncing his leg anxiously.

“She should,” Namjoon said, seriously. “But this is not over, and we will be discussing what the hell happened here because if I am doing some of the mental math here, I suspect this…” he said gesturing to you, “is an everyone problem.”

Jungkook looked away. The older man wasn’t usually so serious or harsh with him, and if he was honest with himself it definitely hurt on top of everything else that was going on, not that he didn’t deserve it.

The pair sat in silence for some time. Namjoon stood at your bedside carefully monitoring your vital signs. As the minutes passed, steadily your vital signs improved, and steadily Namjoon was able to relax.

“It was good you got here when you did,” Namjoon finally broke the silence. “She would have certainly died if you hadn’t.”

Jungkook swallowed hard at that. The last words you had said to him before this all started echoed in his mind, swallowing him with guilt. Please don’t hurt me.

After about 30 minutes, Namjoon received a message on his phone, your lab results. Confusingly, almost all the values were low. Did you even have any blood in your body, no one can survive this kind of low. Namjoon knitted his eyebrows together in confusion, and just as he was about to look up and question Jungkook, the monitoring alarms started blaring.

“Fuck!” Namjoon cursed. “She’s having a reaction to the blood. That should be impossible it’s O- blood, no one reacts to that! I checked it 5 times, FUCK! He cursed again.

“What do we do?” Jungkook stood now, panicked.

“Stay here, I need to get some medications I will be back as fast as I can.” Namjoon typically tapered his mannerisms and movements to the human world he worked in. He moved deliberately slowly, but at this moment, he allowed himself to use the maximum of his powers. Truly in a flash, he had gone and come back with armfuls of different medications he wasted no time in administering.

“This is really bad, Jungkook,” Namjoon said, looking over your body anxiously. “Her blood levels are so low, no human should have survived, and now she’s reacting to the one type of blood that everyone should be able to tolerate. I can give her some medications to encourage her body to make more blood cells faster, but I’m not sure she’ll survive that long.”

Jungkook stood, running his hands through his hair pacing. “She asked me not to hurt her, Joon. She asked me and I did this to her. She trusted me.” His voice waivered, boarding on tears.

“If I am right about what I suspect, you couldn’t control yourself, Kook,” Namjoon said, attempting to be comforting.

Jungkook continued to pace, chewing on his nails as he watched Namjoon attempt to resuscitate you.

“What if she wasn’t human?” Jungkook suddenly asked.

“What?” Namjoon asked, spinning around.

“What if she wasn’t human? She does crazy magic and her blood tasted weird. Different. I’ve drank a lot of human blood and it was never like that.”

Namjoon drew in a breath, answering in a cool, measured way. “You mean to tell me this woman can do magic and it’s only now occurring to you she’s probably not human? What human have you ever met that possesses anything resembling magic? Never mind the fact that her blood was completely unlike any other humans you’ve tasted, now I’m thinking the next thing we should be testing is your head because I’m desperately concerned that it is entirely empty!”

Jungkook looked down, ashamed, at the older man’s chiding.

“No wonder she had a reaction to the blood I gave her! Explains the impossibly low lab values too, she’s a bit more durable than the average human. Don’t be mistaken, these medications will likely have limited effect on her, and she is still gravely ill.”

“What can we do?” Jungkook asked, eyes misty.

“We,” Namjoon said emphasizing the word. “Can’t do a whole lot. You can teleport to Baba Yena and hope she’s feeling charitable today.”

Jungkook groaned internally. Baba Yena was known to be exceptionally powerful, but exceptionally apathetic. Legend states that she was older than time, older than the gods and the powers that created them. She possessed incredible powers, but was, in a word, incredibly stingy to whom she blessed with them. Jungkook’s run-ins with the woman had been scarce, but the few times he had, were certainly memorable. At all costs, he had wanted to avoid being around her, but on the other hand, it was the least he owed you after nearly taking your life.

With a heavy sigh and crossed fingers, Jungkook walked to the center of the room, and in yet another puff of black smoke instantly disappeared, leaving Namjoon alone with your body.

He sat next to your bedside, going between monitors, checking medication flow rates, and staring at you.

“If you keep fighting, I will fight for you,” Namjoon said. “Welcome to the family.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jungkook appeared suddenly and to his relief in front of a large, dome-shaped house. Baba Yena’s house was located in a pocket dimension, and without the proper talismans or magic symbols, teleportation here was… unreliable. The house itself seemed to be made out of packed dirt or fired brick, the roof overgrowing with moss. The house was seemingly the only thing in the pocket dimension, and aside from Baba Yena’s home and overgrown yard, a black abyss stretched on in all directions seemingly endlessly.

Jungkook steeled his nerves, walking up the short, rough stone walkway to the large, wooden front door. There was no door knob, Jungkook suddenly realized, but as he raised his hand to knock, the door flung itself open. Taking it as an open invitation, he let himself in.

The inside smelled fairly pleasant of wood, and for good reason. Betraying the fired brick exterior, the interior of the home seemed that of a log cabin or other wood-inspired architecture. In the entryway, there was a single spiral staircase going up, and corridors leading to who knows where on the left and right. If Jungkook focused his hearing, from the right direction he could hear a female voice humming and mumbling to herself. He decided to follow.

The corridor was plain with wood paneling, but most bizarrely seemed to stretch on for much, much longer than it had first appeared. Jungkook found himself walking first for 1 minute, then 5, and when 10 minutes passed and he still hadn’t reached the room he was walking towards, his anxiety heightened. He stopped, thinking.

“I seek your help, Baba Yena!” He called out. He waited a few seconds, and when nothing changed he thought of a new approach. Baba Yena was also called the Knowing Mother, and to her, information was worth its weight in favors. “A girl of an unknown race lies dying in a hospital bed, and without your gracious help, she will perish an unknown, and her secrets will die with her.” Jungkook waited a few more seconds. He felt a rush suddenly and was nearly knocked off his feet as a large, invisible force picked him up, and shot him forward, dropping him off at the threshold of the room once impossibly far away.

Jungkook entered the room which he quickly assessed to be a kitchen of sorts with black and white floor tiling, scuffed with age, a dark wood table covered in various ingredients, tubes, flasks, and other unrecognizable equipment, a ceiling littered with drying herbs and meats, and a sink next to a counter, on which is something that was clearly freshly butchered. On the side closest to him, there was a forge of sorts, a large stone pit full of red-hot coals, perched over which was a large, black cauldron, the depth of which was at least half of Jungkook’s height. Standing over the cauldron on a step stool was Baba Yena, a diminutive old woman. Hair silver and white was wild and long, her face a map of wrinkles and liver spots, and her hands, gnarled, twisted, and bony. If she noticed Jungkook enter, she didn’t show it and continued stirring whatever concoction bubbled loudly in the kettle.

Jungkook cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably, attempting to get Baba Yena’s attention to no avail.

“Baba Yena,” Jungkook began, taking a tentative step forward. “I bring you information in exchange for some of your magic.”

Baba Yena didn’t look up from her work but finally spoke. “The Liar Boy comes to me asking for favors, tell me Liar Boy, how does that pendant serve you?”

“It serves me well, Baba,” Jungkook said holding it in his hand instinctually. “There is a girl, not human, not demon, not fae, not angel. She is dying.”

“I see…” Baba Yena stirs her pot more aggressively now, reaching up, plucking a dried herb from the ceiling, and mixing it in. “You, Liar Boy are the one who almost killed the girl…”

“I was compelled by the Smoke. It is my fault nonetheless, and I have come to beg for your mercy.”

“I have saved you once, Liar Boy. Many who come to my doorstep don’t have even that many chances.”

“The girl is unusual and powerful. She could be of interest to you.”

“You again offer the girl as a sacrifice, and yet nothing of personal sacrifice, how peculiar.” Baba Yena said with a small cackle.

“I have nothing left to give,” Jungkook replied, forlorned.

“I see the girl,” Baba Yena said, staring into her cauldron. “The horned one cares for her well, but she is as ill as you say and- ah! She is mated to you, she holds your final Fragment, I see. No wonder the Liar Boy again finds himself on my doorstep.”

“You understand why I humbly bring myself to your home. Allowing her to die would be a punishment too heavy for someone innocent, she is guilty of only trusting me. I intend to earn her trust in earnest, and I only ask for the opportunity to do so.”

“So it would seem…” Baba Yaga said, half listening. She stares intently at something, the light from the cauldron giving her an even more menacing look. Her eyes dart around as if watching something intently, and Jungkook watches as her face twists into a wolfish smile.

“I ought to sever your bonds and cast your soul to wander the Astral Sea for being such a pain in my side, Liar Boy. I will help this girl, but not without sacrifice from you.”

“Anything,” Jungkook said earnestly.

“Oh, I have something in mind,” Baba Yaga said, climbing down from the step stool and waddling across the kitchen before phasing through a portion of the wall, disappearing from view. Jungkook could still hear the sound of items being shuffled, glass clinking against glass, however. After a minute or so, Baba Yaga returned, a dusty, palm-sized, green potion in hand.

“Drink this and we will be on our way.” She said, handing him the bottle.

Jungkook took it from her, turning it in his hand, examining the liquid inside. It was a sickly lime green color, and he noticed, to the dismay of his stomach, that the texture of the liquid was actually quite viscous and grainy. He wondered if it was a poison, naturally, perhaps one meant to weaken him severely but never kill him outright. He had a mind to ask, but understanding how fickle Baba Yena was, he knew better. He lifted the cork out of place with a solid thunk, closed his eyes, and focused on not vomiting as he poured the potion down his throat. He didn’t fight the wave of magical something that passed through his body, bracing himself for pain or weakness. He opened his eyes and checked his body, felt his face, but somehow, he felt completely fine.

“You’ll know what it does in time, Liar Boy. Now come, let's go save this girl.”

#bts #bangtan #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #ot7 x reader #namjoon x reader #bts x reader angst #bts smut #bts x reader smut #bts x y/n #bts x you #bts x fem!reader #bts x oc #ot7 x reader smut #ot7 x you #poly ot7 #foundfatedforever #foundfatedforever part 3

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inncubus-honey · 8 months

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fantasy c.o.d men au

a/n: a new fandom! maybe, just depends how much I write about mw2. also the nicknames are for a gn! reader, despite some being more feminine then others, but these are for a gn reader. I hope y'all like it for another fandom writing apart stray kids and now kinda redacted stuff. feedback is always appreciated. also I added references to some games with the weapon choices for the boys. hehehe.

also I hope it makes sense that the fantasy aspect is their weapons and little blurbs with you in the world; I could always expand on it in another post if y'all want to see it

c.o.d men x gn! reader

Word Count: 3.2k

price- longsword

obviously he uses a longsword. hes been on the royal guard since he was a young boy, like 13-16. his father had been part of the royal guard when he was a boy. he thought it was the coolest thing ever; protecting people and using such a great weapon really drove him to join after his fathers death in battle. but he then left the guard with gaz to help around the country as mercenaries.

you bandaged johns arm as he sat with you grumbling. an injury from training with his boys today; johnny got a little rambunctious with his duel daggers.

“fucking crazy kid…but hes slowly improving..” john grumbled as you wrapped his arm up.

“hes just excited about joining the mystical 141 mercenary group. give him some slack, Captain.” you teased back, finishing the wrapping. he scoffed at your comment and put his armor back on.

“well, hes a little too zealous at times…but i can tell he’ll be good for the team.” john stood from the med bed and re-equipped his sword to his sword. he smirked at your figure moving around and cleaning up the medical supplies.

he walked up behind you, giving a series of fluttering kisses to your neck as his arms wrapped around your waist.

“ive missed all day, love…” he whispered to you as you placed your hands atop his. he had been training with 141 while you had been seeing patients all day.

“me too, captain.”

ghost- spymaster

the spymaster of the 141 mercenaries. john recruited ghost when he saw him stalking upon roofs around the town at night. when morning came, john found him at a pub in a dark corner as he watched everyone. when he sat down with him and got to talking, he learned that at that point he was a hitman for hire. he decided to put his skills to good use.

“simon, darling come to bed, please i miss my lover…” you looked over to his larger figure in the corner, arms crossed and staring at you from his hiding spot. a smirk graced his lips at your words when your eyes met.

“was wonderin’ when you’d notice me, sunshine…” uncrossing his arms with a small chuckle, simon made his way towards your shared bed.

“well, i was wondering when you would come by yourself, darling.” simon smirked at your comment, taking off his gear to settle in for the night.

before you could do anything else, simon pulled you forward by the back of your legs, plopping down onto your chest. he let out a low groan as you gave a small chuckle, putting your hand in his short blonde locks.

“goodnight, darling..” a quick kiss to his forehead.

“night, sunshine..” he was out like a light.

soap- dual daggers

chaotic good of the party. will go in killing everyone crazy or be the sneakiest rogue ever and be in and out. he joined the 141 before simon; he sought out price and gaz as they were looking for recruits and went around the kingdom looking for them. he wanted to join them ever since hearing them and how they stopped the gas poisonings by general hadir, the brother of general farah who was an ally of the 141.

“dear…you are going to give me grey hairs.” soap dangled from the rope after stepping the trap as you ventured in the woods. he was fighting the rope with grunts and trying to cut with his dagger, but falling short as he would miss and fall back down.

“well whoever grunt...set the fucking trap knew what they grunt doing…” following the rope with your eyes, you found the anchor for it by a tree which led you to walk and cut it.

soap landed onto the ground with a grunt and cough as he got a bit winded by the action. with a roll of your eyes, you walked over to where soap laid and helped him up and dusted him off.

“thank you, buttercup. now lets go home, so we can spend some time alone…” he gave you a smirk as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and yall started walking in the direction of yalls cottage.

“mmhmm…did your ribs bruise again?” you raised an eyebrow at him as yall walked side by side.

“maybe…” he coughed out as his other arm went to support his ribs.

“absolutely, they hurt a lot…” he whined with a chuckle out of you as you shook your head and continued walking as soap whined the whole way.

gaz- rift mage

gaz met price as he was an apprentice of the royal court mage. price would eat with gaz whenever they could, price taking gaz under his wing when they left the kingdom; gazs family disowned him upon discovering he had magic. price taught him how to fight with a weapon in case he could not use his magic. over the time of their travels, gaz felt more comfortable about his natural abilities and not hiding them as much.

“come on, my little spitfire…” gaz gave a slight tug at your sleeve as you stood in the library, sorting the books with a big pout on his lips. the 141 had an off week, but you had to work some days of the week. gaz huff as you moved from shelf to shelf, following behind like a lost puppy.

“gaz, im almost done. just a few more minutes, darling..” chuckling as gaz groaned and threw his back. after finally finishing placing the last books away, you grabbed your things and found gaz asleep in a chair near the back of the shop. his head sloped down onto his chest with his arms crossed over his chest.

holding in a chuckle, you walked over to him, gently shaking his shoulder to wake him up.

“gaz, darling, im done lets go home…” you whispered to him, gaz slowly started to stir in the chair, stretching his arms out with a yawn and looked over at you.

“im ready and awake, spitfire, i swear-yawn” standing up with a pop in his back, gaz hooked his arm around your waist and led yall out of the bookstore back to your shared home for the rest of the afternoon. an occasional yawn escaping gazs mouth earning a small giggle from you.

alex- bardice

a bardiche is kind of pole-arm, which alex was a god at using. he picked up the pole-arm when couldnt do close combat anymore after losing his leg; he opted for long range combat afterward. he joined after price and gaz help him and general farah with hadir, he wanted to help people and bring justice like them.

watching alex pull back the bardiche only to stab into the training dummy again and again was something you could watch all day. sitting on one of the many hay bales around the training center, you were doing your own thing by doodling alex in many poses with his pole-arm. he saw out of the corner of his eye with a smirk as you moved your pencil around the page.

“getting my good side, dearest?” he smirked to you, leaning against the pole-arm as he used a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe away the sweat from his forehead.

“every side is your good side, alex.” you smiled back, shutting the book and walking over to alex who was also shirtless at the moment. afterall it didnt hurt to use your boyfriend for anatomy practice; slyly you smiled at him while placing your hands on his sweaty chest. his muscles moved up and down with deep breaths as he took you in his tired and aching arms.

“im glad my dearest thinks so. i dont just work out to keep good at fighting…its also for you, dear..” his breathy voice whispered in your ear, his mustache tickling your neck as he left light, fleeting kiss up and down. snorts and squeaks left you as you tried to push away alex who only brought you in closer to his larger frame.

“a-alex! stoop..that-haha- t-tickles!” the shrill laughs left you, alex only stopping to let out gravelly chuckles in your ear. but soon, he thankfully did stop the tickles and swayed you both back and forth a bit.** **aqua lovesick eyes bore into yours, ones that you could spend an entity in.

“i love you, dearest..” alex vowed to me.

“i love you most, alex.” i vowed back to seal it with a kiss.** **

keegan- scythe

the ghosts were also a traveling group of mercenaries, only being found at night in pubs when people were looking for them. keegan was known for his large scythe attached to his back and the skull face paint that decorates his face during missions. he joined the ghosts when after he was with another mercenary group called vipers.

“it smells good in here, firefly.” keegans arms wrapped around your waist as you chopped up some vegetables for a stew for dinner. you saw more bundles of wheat on the table as keegan rested his head in your neck.

“thank you, kee. i have bread in the oven from all the wheat you keep cutting.” i smirked at him as he placed his scythe against the wall near the front door. as you placed the vegetables in the pot and mixed everything together.

“we should start selling wheat, kee. i can only make so much bread a week before i start hating the taste.” a chuckle left him as you stirred the pot and he took a seat at the table. he rested his head on his palm, calloused from years of use of the scythe, aqua eyes watched your figure as you moved about in the kitchen.

“maybe we can sell the bread you make; people would come in hoards for your bread.” keegan smirked as you dished up the now ready stew and brought over two bowls to the table. he loved how domestic life was with you; one of the few constants in his life. the ghosts and you were always there for him, it took him awhile to get to use it after the vipers.

but, damn, he wouldnt trade this for anything in the world.

“firefly… i love you alot. i would do anything for you, i hope you know.” smiling, you reached out your hand and grabbed his hand, softly rubbing your thumb across the back of his hand.

“i know, dear. i would do the same for you, keegan; i love you more.” you told him back, a toothy grin spread across his lips as there was a light pink dusting across his cheeks, it made him look cuter.

“i know, firefly…now lets eat.” he pressed a quick kiss to your lips before yall dug into the delicious looking stew.

roach- necromancer

not being able to speak never bothered roach; his parents used sign language with him while others wrote notes if they did not know. roach always felt like no one could really understand him despite everything he could say or show. in his emotions, he always felt limited when it came to that. until joining the 141; they always seemed to read him better than others. price knew he was hungry for certain foods in taverns, but didnt know if they had it or not. ghost always knew when roach needed more ink or another book for his spells. gaz and soap would be there him when he was looking around booths in the village and people would try to scam him because he was mute.

roach was sitting at the tavern table, scribbling down notes he needs for spells and the ingredients needed for those spells. you were up at the counter ordering some mead and roasted stew that he always wanted. when the order was confirmed, you started making your way back to yalls table when you saw a group of patrons around roach; poking him and shoving as he sat there and tried to ignore them.

rushing over him and the group, pushing the men away from him and he guarded his book with his body.

“leave him alone! what gives you the right to bother him?” you shouted as you stood in front of the table. the group of patrons scowled as you pushed them away from your partner.

“he practices witchcraft! the worst kind of all; necromance. he needs to leave!” they shouted back at you as your hands rested on your hips, looking equally as mad at them.

“has he done anything to you? made any rude gestures? sent some ghost your way?” raising a brow at him, waiting to see what his answer would be. the man's mouth fell ajar, eyes rapidly blinking as he looked around for something to say.

“well..n-no, but its unnatural-!” you cut him off by raising a hand up to him as he tried to sputter out an answer.

“but nothing. he has every right to be in here as much as you do, so leave him alone before i make you.” you shoved your finger into his chest, making him stumble backwards as his eyes continued to widen as your words. his face paled, gave a huff and he walked off with his group behind him.

looking back at roach, you walked over to him and took his face in your hands looking over him for any possible scrapes or bumps from the patrons roughhousing him. as your eyes trailed over his soft face, roach placed his hands over yours. he gave a soft smile and slow nod as if to answer your question.

‘im fine, precious. no injury, just took my quill.’ hitting his thumb with a closed fist against his chest then making his hand sideways as he spread his fingers apart then moving his fingers against one another. then moving in front of him, taking his fist from behind his ear and down to hand you understood what he meant.

‘are you sure?’ you signed back which made his smile wider as he brought you down next to him and pressed a kiss to your lips which made your concern melt from your face. you pressed one back to him as you placed your head on his shoulder and he got back to writing in his spell book.

alejandro- dadao

alejandro and rudy were allies and honorary members of the 141. they were a traveling duo looking to help where they could, like the 141; alejandro always felt like he was supposed to do more than just travel around with his childhood friend. not that he hated it, but he also felt lost whenever they got ready to travel to the next town. but when they landed in your town, it felt right to alejandro and he wanted to stay.

alejandro opened the back with a smile as he brought in the burlap sack clad flour and sugar you needed in the bakery. placing them near the other sacks in your low supplies as you stood behind the big butcher block table which you made pastries on.

“thank you, ale. i would have done it, but i needed to get these breads ready and in the oven.” you smiled up at him as he walked over and hugged you from behind, giving feathery kisses along your neck.

“its no problem, mi corazon, i love helping you and watching you do what you love most.” he smiled into your neck as you both swayed to the imagery music. sweet notes of vanilla, fruits, lavender, and many other notes wafted through the air which warm, fuzzy feelings in your chest as you leaned against alejandro.

“do you happen to have any extra cherry pie, mi corazon?” he whispered as he pressed a quick kiss to the shell of your ear. his warm hands gently slide up and down your sides.

cherry pie was alejandros favorite dessert, so whenever it was baked, he would always sneak a piece when you werent watching. meaning you would have to make more then buy more cherries and it was just a cycle of baking cherry pies.

“if you check the oven, love, you’ll find two cherry pies…one is yours.” an excited whoop left alejandros throat as he turned you around, pressing a passionate kiss against your lips. he ran over to the oven and pulled out the two pies with the peel, placing them on the counter.

“you’re amazing, mi corazon! you always spoil me too much with your pastries and sweets.” pulling you away from the dough on the butcher table, bringing you into his body again as a grin graced his lips. gentle hands rested upon your jaw as he brought you both closer once again; gentle lips danced against one another as you rested your hands on his chest.

“well, you deserves it, alejandro. you do a lot for me and the people here…its the least i could do for you…” you whispered against his lips when you pulled away for a moment. alejandros signature smirk returned, pushing loose baby hair away from your face so he could see it better.

“thank you, mi corazon…it means a lot to hear you say that.”

rudy- illusion mage

rudy and alejandro met as kids when other kids were picking on rudy for his magic. all the other kids thought he was a horrible mage for having illusion magic; most thought it would be used to trick and try to control people. but rudys magic only ever activated when he was in major distress as a kid, when he was older and enrolled into a magic school he learned to control it and use his magic whenever. when alejandro met his partner and decided to stay in that town, rudy didnt mind one bit as he liked the thought of a fresh start in a new town.

you sat at your desk, working on some paperwork for your boss at the bookshop. you had been there all day, sorting through the records of payments and what inventory was in the shop. rudy entered the house from nightly patrol duty, dropping off his coat and illusions dust at the front door.

“amor, what are you doing up so late?” rudy walked over to where you sat, giving you a soft kiss against your shoulder as he rested his head in the crook of your neck.

“i have to get these papers done for the bookshop, cielo…” rested a hand on his jaw, giving back a light peck on the lips. rudy chuckled as he pulled out your chair from the desk.

this caused you drop the papers and quill onto the table as your lover picked you up from the chair, bridal style.

“rudy! i have to get those done soon!” a squeal left your lips as he carried to your shared and dropped you upon yalls bed.

“soon. you said you can finish them soon, lets just cuddle for a bit, amor.” he plopped his body down onto yours as his arms went to wrap around your waist.

knowing rudy wasnt to let you from cuddling for at least a while, you gave huff in defeat which was followed by a chuckle. you begrudgingly wrapped your arms around back, slowly running your nails up and down as you pressed a kiss to his temple.

“you’re a pain in my ass, cielo. but i love you…” whispering to him as yall snuggled into the bedsheets further.

“i love you more…” rudy soon drifted into sleep as he laid on your chest. soon you followed him as well, your hands resting his hair with small smiles gracing your faces.

a/n: as i wrote this, I read the wikis of war zone operators and was thinking about doing a part 2 with some, let me know if y'all would like that and if you want to see certain characters in it

#cod mw2 x reader #cod men x reader #captain price x reader #gaz x reader #simon riley x reader #soap mactavish x reader #alex keller x reader #keegan russ x reader #roach x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #rudy parra x reader

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coquette-heartbeat · 3 months

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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆ About Me Cardiophilia ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆

(Saw this on few other blogs when clicking around. It looks like, torture-seth-repeat , created this! All credit goes to them, check out their blog for it)

𐙚 Cardiophilia Basics 𐙚

My heart being listened to: Yes, please!

Listening to others' hearts: Yes

Fast heartbeats: Yes

Slow heartbeats: Yes

Naturally irregular heartbeats: Yes

Deliberately irregular heartbeats: Yes

Heart via stethoscope: Yes, please!

Heart via EKG: Yes

Heart via Doppler: Yes, please!

Heart via ultrasound: Yes, please!

Carotid (throat) pulse: Yes, please!

Femoral (groin) pulse: Yes

Radial (wrist) pulse: Yes

𐙚 Dark Cardiophilia 𐙚

Shocking a healthy heart*: Sometimes

Pressure/crushing a healthy heart: Yes

Drowning + heart monitoring: Yes

Suffocation + heart monitoring: Yes

Choking + heart monitoring: Yes, please!

Drugs used to affect the heart: Yes

Knifeplay + heart monitoring: Yes, please!

Needle or injection into the heart: Yes

Gunplay (shooting the heart)*: Yes

Being dominated (in a cardiophilia way): Yes, please!

Dominating someone else (in a cardiophilia way): No way!

Consensual non-consent (CNC) play: Yes, please!

Heart rips*: Sometimes

Fucked into cardiac arrest*: Yes, please!

Heart being fucked*: Yes

Heart being licked or bitten*: Yes

Heart being eaten*: Sometimes

Hands squeezing the heart directly*: Yes, please!

'Unhappy endings' (RIP) for dark cardiophilia*: Sometimes

𐙚 Medfet/Resus𐙚

Blood pressure readings: Yes

Medical equipment: Yes, please!

Medical exam roleplay: Yes, please!

Resuscitation via CPR*: Sometimes

Resuscitation via defibrillator*: Sometimes

Resuscitation via AED*: Sometimes

Respiratory arrest*: Yes

Sex and resus combined: Sometimes

'Unhappy endings' (RIP) for resus*: Sometimes

Anesthesia*: Sometimes

Breathing masks: Yes, please!

𐙚 Graphic𐙚

Open heart surgery footage: Yes

Real animal hearts: No Way!

Real human hearts outside the body: Yes

Real human hearts in autopsies: Yes

𐙚 Adjacent Kinks𐙚

Gyno medical exams: Sometimes

Pregnancy/breeding: Yes, please!

Belly sounds: Yes

Cardiophilia + furry: No way!

Vampires*: Sometimes

Necrophliia*: No way!

* fantasy/RP only

#cardiophile #cardiophilia #medfet #heartbeat #stethoscope

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insomniac-dot-ink · 9 months

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Stories for the Salt

(Genre: Spooky campfire story urban fantasy, wlw background romance)

Summary: A daughter is visiting her mother to help pack up her house and move her out of the mountains. Instead, she encounters a bedraggled hiker that appeared from the woods.

PART 1

Casper had heard two things since she arrived at her mom’s house: "Don’t touch that." And "Fresh air is good for you." Emphasis on the good like Casper had yet to fully grasp the concept. Casper, however, was discovering a limit for how many times you could stand on top of a mountain and contemplate the meaning of life. Then again, maybe that's what is “wrong with city people.” City people were the third topic Casper was hearing all about since her arrival.

She sat on the counter, collecting plates from the top shelf of the cupboard, valiantly ignoring the eyes boring into the back of her head. Their cat, Cassie, was unhappily somewhere else and no help whatsoever--sibling solidarity a lost cause.

Her mom cleared her throat. “I love you so much, honey bee. And I am so proud of you.”

Casper groaned at the ceiling. Where was that cat?

“But,” her mom punctuated the word like an airsoft gun release. “I have decided to cancel the movers.” “The movers aren’t canceled, mom.” Casper had checked this morning.

Her mom sat at the dining room table with one foot elevated. Pillows and ice packs cushioned the sides of a gauze-strangled ankle. Casper’s mother crossed her thin arms over her chest. One set of crutches leaned against the table next to her and her other foot was shoved into a muddy boot.

Casper desperately wanted to pack the woman’s hiking boots first, but forced herself to finish with the delicates. She wrapped a plate without looking up, her mom’s eyes weighing her down like cement.

“I’m sure the movers haven’t started up the mountain yet,” she enunciated each word. “Three more weeks, honey bee. The doctor said only three more weeks–that will go by in a blink of an eye.”

Casper groaned again. Is this what dad had felt like?

She plastered on a smile. “The doctor said some distractions might help too. You know, there’s this great little Greek restaurant that opened up near me. I know how you like Greek food.”

Her mom snorted. “Better than Angelo’s? Have you met my neighbor Angelo? He’s from Greece originally and his wife is from Belgium. Lovely woman and you wouldn’t even notice the false eye. They invite me over some nights in the summer, it’s a summer home and they check in on me now and again . . .”

Ah, Casper noted her mom was returning to her other favorite topic: daughter, there are neighbors. Stop worrying. Casper also wished she could stop worrying.

She finished wrapping the last of the plates and faced her mom.

“Do Angelo or Martine have medical degrees? Mom, we’ve talked about this. This whole mountain is nearly empty. There isn’t a hospital for forty minutes. People die alone out in the woods like this.”

“Only if they’re dumb. Do I look dumb to you?” Her mom barked, utilizing one of her well-worn Mom Jokes: “Okay, don’t answer that. The point is, I’ve been getting along out here for longer than most ‘solo travelers’ have been alive.” “And even well-equipped and intelligent people make mistakes. When alone. In the woods.” She gestured to her mom’s ankle swollen up to a grapefruit.

“I could just as easily take a fall in the city.” She waved Capser off. “What are we supposed to be so scared of?”

“Bad Cell service.”

“Gloria got taken for all she was worth by a phone scammer just last year. They’re targeting old bags like me, safer to be away from all that.”

“No wi-fi!”

Her mom nodded sagely. “Safer.”

Casper rolled her eyes and started listing, “a fall off the mountain. Stalked by mountain lions. Gas leak. Contaminated water–”

“Honeybee, you must think I’m dumb.”

“Bears!” She threw her hands up. “Eaten by bears!”

Her mom tightened her arms over her chest and made a guttural noise in the back of her throat. “Better than being taken out by serial killers in the city. Or eaten by them! I’d rather be eaten by bears. At least you know what they are thinking. Bear spray works a lot better than pepper spray anyway. Do you know, most attackers use the stuff back on the woman?” Her mom clicked her tongue. “Bears don’t have thumbs.”

Casper collapsed back against the cabinet. She grumbled under her breath like she was a surly teen again, “Not yet they don’t.”

“You know something about bears I don’t, missy?” Her mom raised one eyebrow. She took a deep breath. Casper was in for it. The gusto entered her tone. “You know, last year I saw a mother and two cubs. Right by the Hand Bone's trail. And I said to myself, Isla, you're only going to see this once in a lifetime. Once! You better stay right there. I didn't move a single muscle.

I wouldn’t take the bear spray out for the life of me either. She knew–that momma knew–I had my own two cubs of my own and nothing less.” The chair creaked as her mom sat up straight in it, getting into her primary story-mode. “And you know what?”

Her mom gestured. One of the ice packs dropped to the floor. Casper jumped down from the counter. She grumbled, “You saw them again the next week.”

“Once in a lifetime I told myself, only once, but what do you know, that exact mother and her cubs were crossing Jay Road the next week. I was in my car this time, much safer, but I must’ve stayed parked there for thirty minutes.”

Casper gentled her voice. “You have lived a magical life out here, mom.” And now it’s come to an end.

“No where else like it!”

Casper picked up the ice pack and tucked it against the bandages. Her mom’s ankle was still the size of a small melon and she winced when Casper adjusted the position.

Mugs and cups next. Shoes and winter coats and sweaters after that.

“It might do you some good to spend some time out here . . .” Her mom commented, probably noting the sheer number of wallowing noises Casper had been making.

Casper tilted her head all the way back and stared at the ceiling. She gathered her strength. “There’s a huge community garden right next door to me. You’ll love it. . .” Her mom gave her plaintive look and Casper mirrored it. “I don’t want to be the bad guy. You know I’d move up here if I could– or get Joey to.”

Her mom patted Casper on the sniffed and sniffed. “Would you?”

“The movers are coming in the morning.” Casper finished lamely. Her mom took her hand back.

“You both think you know so much more about what’s good for me,” the sour-ness leached through her mother’s words–like they had been a lot lately. Less poetry readings like from Casper’s childhood or bird identification out in the yard.

“And what happens if you get in trouble and I can’t get up here in time?” Casper said quietly, heart squeezing. We could read poetry in Denver, she wanted to say. I could find you birds in the rafters.

But Casper wasn't 9 anymore.

Her mother snorted. “You mean if you can't get up here in time to wrap my plates or hand me two ibuprofen . . . The city? Really? You don’t have to go back either. There’s nowhere like this in the world, honeybee.” Her eyebrows arched. “You might even meet someone.”

Casper pushed to her feet. “It’s getting dark. I’ll get the cat in.”

“There are plenty of people out here! I’ve been asking around for. Hen, my neighbor with the chickens of all things, has a granddaughter like that." Her eyes sparkled, she laughed. "Gay I mean. Oh, I used to have trouble in polite company, but age cures all foolishness. Gay, lesbian, is your daughter a homosexual? My neighbors, the Dutch woman and the Greek, looked like they’d seen a ghoul when I asked, but they admitted it’s easier to be plane once you’ve started–”

“Love you mom!” Casper called over her shoulder. “Super proud of you. Going to text the movers now.”

She heard her mom groan in the background.

---------------->

PART 2

When Casper was younger, age seemed to stretch out into infinity. When you are ten there is no such thing as twenty-five and when you’re twenty-five thirty feels like an entirely different planet. You never really expect when your mom gets old enough to hurt and you have to help her to the toilet in the middle of the night. Thirty-two snuck up on Casper.

She ran a hand through her hair, squinting out over the mountains. The peaks were covered in scraggly pine trees and washed-out summer skies. More than a mile high and the air was thin and chilled in her lungs. The sun dipped behind the far mountains and the gorge lit up in oranges and pinks. Dipping and rising, the mountains rolled like ocean waves. Clouds like tides nestled between the teeth of the land, glowing a sun-dipped rose color.

Has anyone else ever felt so miserable staring at something so beautiful? Casper sighed.

Maybe her 16-year-old self had been right. There is something wrong with you. Casper chuckled at the thought. At least she never had to be 16 again.

One or two houses dotted the mountain, but mostly there was nothing but sky and trees clinging to the side of slopes. Pockets of real estate had managed to establish summer homes and outdoorsy Airbnbs, but they were far between. Jay Road wasn’t even called Jay Town after all these years. The neighbors her mom prattled on about lived a mile apart each and some of the cabins didn’t even have running water, just outhouses and wood stoves. Which was fine. It was all fine.

But she was Casper’s mom. Brilliant and impractical. Affectionate and painfully honest. Chatty and yet obsessed with being alone. She was her mom and Casper had to do something about the distance to the hospital. Had to do something about the number of accidents piling up. Had to do something about the isolation.

Casper had unfortunately inherited her dad’s careful nature instead the ability to jump off cliffs into waterfalls or hitchhike across countrysides.

A fire lit in Casper’s belly. Her brother said he’d be back when he could. Australia didn’t have great cell service. Rescheduling flights was complicated. Mom would be fine, she was tough. It was only a few more months.

Casper started walking in the opposite direction of the gorge. She had always been proud to be called “mature for her age” and puffed up when her brother was scolded, told to act “more like your sister.” But it turned out nine-year-old maturity wasn’t something you got dividends on. Figured.

Casper trudged down their long driveway. Gravel skidded with each step and Casper called loudly, “Cassie!” The sound of her voice echoed from somewhere. “Here kitty, kitty!”

For all her mom’s monologuing about the virtue of living by herself, it had not escaped Casper’s notice that she named her cat Cassie. Granted, the cat’s full name was Cassiopeia and her last two cats were Orion and Ursa Major.

“Cassiopeia!” Casper was already going hoarse from yelling. She walked all the way to the road. It was all gravel and dirt and potholes, and the only details of humanity were janky mailboxes lined up in a row. Their wooden posts decaying and metal sagging inward.

A hush settled over the twilight and Casper found herself wandering aimlessly. Tiny stars popped out. She wound all the way toward the cowpaths through the woods–makeshift trails that were more like dusty grooves through the pine needles. They were called Desire Paths for those with a romantic bent.

“Cassiopeia! Cas! Here kitty.”

The pine trees had a malnourished look, thin and brittle, spread far apart from one another like estranged cousins. There wasn’t enough air or water this high up for green grass or big shrubbery and she could see her house through the trunks.

Casper kicked a stray pinecone and gave herself a little lecture: Breathe in the summer pine air. Listen to the birds. Feel the crunch of needles under your boots. Be present.

It was no use, of course, whatever she was supposed to feel out here, Casper didn’t feel it. Plus, there were mugs to wrap and dinner to cook and mom’s impossible house to finish packing up.

A soft meow cane from up ahead.

“There you are!” she called. A small black cat trotted through the trees. Casper knelt down and Cassiopeioa purred loud enough to wake the dead. The cat had a narrow elfin face and impossibly thick whiskers like an old man’s wiry beard. She was a small thing, but could generate a truly astounding loud rumble– a tiny motor trying to terraform the dusty landscape.

“Don’t tell the others,” Casper whispered. “But I always knew you were the smartest.”

Her mom trained all of her cats to come in by dark, but Cassiopioa was the only one that came when you called by name. Her rumble vibrated through Casper’s palm and there was a temptation to just . . . stay there. She could squat in the woods until her heart stopped squeezing and the world stopped spinning.

She scratched the cat behind her ears. “Sorry, bud. The cat carrier won’t be any fun but I promise it’ll be short.” Casper shook her head “Well. Let’s get today over with.” She stood. “Come on, sweetie.”

The cat trotted at Casper’s heel. She was a slow walker and would stop to sniff the ground or pretend she wasn’t following you around at all. Casper wasn’t in a hurry, though.

Twilight left ribbons of pink and purple through the sky and Casper forced herself to think about art and love and buying more plants for her apartment. She tried to listen to the music of nature or whatever it was. Casper stopped. Her skin prickled, the forest was quiet. Birdless. The cat let out a low growl and Casper jerked around.

A hiker stood behind her. The woman was pale and bedraggled and staring straight ahead. One of the hiker’s hands was outstretched behind Casper’s neck, fingers hooker, poised behind her collar.

Casper let out a muffled sound and jumped back, the cat scrambling out of the way behind her.

The hiker’s lips were cracked to the point of bleeding, the skin around her mouth chapped and red all the way to her cheek bones. Her eyes were bloodshot. A red windbreaker clung to her in damp splotches. An enormous pack hung off her shoulders, depleted and torn in parts. She was breathing hard.

The woman’s knees buckled inward. She fell to her knees.

The hiker rasped, “help me.”

---------------->

PART 3

Casper staggered, sweat beading on her brow. The hiker was limp against her side—head lulled onto Casper’s shoulder and eyes half-lidded and empty. Holding most of her weight, Casper was lucky the woman was light as a large pile of sticks.

Gravel crunched under Casper’s shoes and her mother’s robin-egg-blue house drew near. The cat was lashing her tail back and forth at the back door, waiting, ears pressed to her skull.

Casper side-eyed the hiker, dragging her to the door. She wet her lips. “How long have you been out here?” she asked in soft tones, gentled into a nursery-rhyme rhythm. “Do you know where you are?”

The woman’s eyes remained half-open and unseeing. Her lips were parted and cracked to bleeding. Casper winced.

“I’ll get you some water the moment we get in,” she hissed, and the woman closed her eyes.

They crossed the lawn and the hiker managed to prop herself up as Casper ran to get the door open. The cat darted into the house the moment the door was cracked, and Casper called through the hallways.

“Mom!” Casper was suddenly glad she had her mother. “Can you get the first aid kit?”

“What’s that?” Thumping sounds answered and soft “ow.”

Brine filled her nose. Casper swung around and the woman was standing behind her, eyes bloodshot and wide. “Um,” Casper flattened herself to the wall, mind racing. “Do you want to wait outside actually?”

The woman swallowed several times and pointed to her mouth.

“Right, right, right.”

Her mom rounded the corner, crutches clattering against the hardwood floor, expression pinched.

“Who is that?”

“Mom! Stay with, uh, her. I’ll be right back.”

They got the hiker into the house despite Casper’s worry flaring like a rash. She supposed there was no point in talking about the importance of having neighbors if she refused to be neighborly. Her mom shot off questions and then petered off when the woman coughed into her fist, whole chest shaking.

“Where did she come from?” Her voice shook and Casper paused. Isla, of all things, was not known for being fearful.

“I don’t know. I picked her up in the woods.”

The hiker leaned against the doorframe, eyes fluttering shut and muttering strings of hoarse words. Casper darted to the kitchen. The nearest hospital was a long way away. She filled up an enormous glass of water, remembering to add some electrolytes.

“Good lord is that woman alright?” her mother muttered. She stood in the hallway, eyeing the stranger.

Casper glanced between them, her mom’s crutches, the woman’s ragged form. The timing couldn’t be worse. It was just Casper.

“Mom, I may need to borrow the car–”

“Who is that?” Her mom repeated, staring.

“She’s not well. I don’t think ambulances come up this way–”

“They don’t. Casper! Who is this?”

Casper strode into the living room, mimicking how she imagined the ER doctors held themselves upright. Grabbing the couch cushions from the unwrapped furniture, she lined them up on the floor. She tuned-out her mom’s questions and guided the woman across the room.

“Here, ma’am, please lie down.” The woman stammered something back and Casper held her breath. The hiker smelled overwhelmingly of stale sweat. Casper ignored how her own shirt was damp from holding her up and eased her down on the makeshift mat.

The woman pointed at her mouth again and Casper held up the glass, tipping her chin up. “Just a small sip.”

Water dribbled out of the side of hiker’s mouth, running down her cheek. She closed her eyes in the next second and collapsed back. Casper exhaled. Well. Shit.

An image flashed in her mind’s eyes. The woman, standing behind her, hand outstretched, fingers hooked near Casper’s neck and a shine in her eyes. Casper shook her head as to dislodge the thought. She worked in a hospital, even if it was just administration. She knew better than to expect shock to look the same on everyone.

Her mother cleared her throat. “So. Where in the woods?”

“Nearby. She was looking for help.”

Casper stood, knees cracked and back straining. Food would probably help. More water.

“She must’ve gotten lost from one of the trails.” Casper silently urged her mom to not mention solo hikers being “dumb.” She glanced between them. “Or from that big gorge one.”

Her mom pursed her lips, brow furrowing. She looked coolly over Casper’s shoulder. “Dear, which trail were you on? Do you remember?” Casper whipped around and the woman’s eyes were open wide. “What happened to your gear?”

The hiker shook her head, shaking. Casper knelt without thinking and handed over the water. “Here. A little more.”

The woman grabbed the glass in both hands. She tilted her head back and drank like a racehorse, glugging and noisy. Water spilled down her front and Casper politely looked away, some sense of propriety surfacing.

Casper willed her brain to work. Twilight was descending and the roads were awful to drive on at night—she’d have to do something quick.

“Mom, let’s go talk in the other room.” She stood, whispering, “is the truck filled up?”

“The truck?” Her mom frowned. “This young lady should get to decide whether she wants to be forced off the mountain.”

Casper rubbed her temple. “What?”

“She survived this long. Some people don’t like quitting halfway through.”

Casper narrowed her eyes to slits. She couldn’t be serious.

“No!” The hiker spit-up water down her front. “I can’t go back. Look, it’s dark.”

They studied her. The woman’s entire front was wet, straight black hair plastered to her cheeks and chest heaving.

“Easy now,” her mom put out a hand. “We won’t force you. I understand these parts. We can take you wherever your party is or down the road to the sheriff–”

The woman shook her head vigorously. Her pupils seemed to pulse, and she spoke in rapid gulps, “Not back. Not down that way. They’ll come from there.”

“Okay.” Casper put her hands up like calming a spooked animal. “We don’t have to go anywhere just yet. You can rest here, you’ll be safe.”

“No!” The hiker gnashed her teeth and the alertness returned to her gaze. She glanced around, faltering upright and falling back down again. “Where are we?”

“You’re near Hand Bone’s peak. Off the main road,” her mother said slowly.

“Do you know how you got here?” Casper added at the same moment. This might be a worse case than she thought.

“How late is it?” the woman’s chest started rising and falling rapidly. “How big is the moon . . .?”

Casper and her mom shared a look. Her mom recovered first.

“Want some more water, dear?”

The woman pressed her palms to the floor and lifted herself up in a painful lurch. Casper put a hand on her shoulder.

“You’re not well,” she murmured. The woman’s shoulder was chilled and shaking under her touch. “Can I get some more water? A blanket?” Casper ran through her mental list: blanket, first aid kit, maybe some bread, a call down the mountain.

Then packing the house. Somehow.

Her mother gasped and Casper wanted to shout, “what now?!” The woman had wrenched the sleeve of her jacket up. Her arm was covered in purpling bruises.

“Casper!”

“I’m on it.” Casper fumbled for the first aid kit her mom dragged out. The hiker went very still.

“It’s quiet,” she said, eyes roving over the room and body taut. Casper remembered the hand behind her collar. “Where is your cat?”

Shock looks different on everyone.

Casper held herself motionless, mirroring the young woman. “What’s your name?”

The hiker’s eyes narrowed. She growled, “Who are you? Whose house is this?”

“Easy now,” her mom repeated. “It’s mine. You’re not feeling very well right now. Would you like some aspirin? We’re going to call someone to help you feel better.”

The woman's forehead was slick with sweat. She itched at her arm and Casper forced down bile. The odd bruises covered her forearm like an abstract painting, purples and yellows molting together.

Casper tore her eyes away and took deep even breaths. The moon was enormous through the window, a perfect yellow disc through the trees.

The hiker’s breath came in rapid bursts and Casper forced herself to grab her shoulder again and ease back down.

“My name is Casper Lake. Do you know what year it is?” Casper asked clumsily. “Do you know your name?”

“My name is Maya,” she said through gritted teeth, lips bleeding sluggishly. “And I am trying to get out of here.”

“We’ll try and help y—”

Maya jerked forward to her hands and knees all at once. Casper put a hand on her back and then recoiled, falling to the floor and paling. Clear water poured from the woman’s open mouth as she puked an endless stream on the floor.

---------------->

#campfire story #urban fantasy #short story #spilled ink #ghost story #part 1 #stories for the salt #long post cw

146 notes · View notes

nibblette · 2 months

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And here is my top 10 TRC fics Part 2

6. There’s no place like my room.

This is a heartstring tugger. This takes place after the events of Greywaren but before the epilogue. Ronan has terrible dreams of an elderly and dying Adam and brings back Alzheimer’s disease drugs and medical equipment from his dreams. Adam is approached by the feds to join their new dreamer & dream protection. I love that Ronan has to go back to 300 Fox Way. Adam and Declan interact with each other. There’s a happy ending. Part of the ending is inspired by some Pynch fan-art from another artist.

7. In One Piece by creativefiend19

An apparently unfinished Fic but I thought it ended well enough. Another BDSM/kink fic, surprise, surprise. This one has great sex scenes that even have companion art works!

This is mostly Adam’s POV. Adam is still freaked out about the demon using him to choke Ronan. Ronan comforts him by sharing his kinky fantasies. Adam starts to wrap his mind around Ronan’s need for kink and subbing. There is a wealth of sex scenes. Adam thinks up a delightful Valentine’s Day gift for Ronan- sneaking into Aglionby’s Latin classroom to fulfill Ronan’s fantasy to have sex with Adam there. The story continues. The author makes good use of the canon “forsan er haec olim….” quote. Ronan is totally Ronan and makes a list of scenes he wants to do in Latin, lol. The fic goes on to flesh out the pre-Call Down the Hawk Pynch relationship exceedingly well. Highly recommend! The accompanying artwork by sneaky_git are fabulous as well!

8. Home to Me by Parakeats (the main story of the Time Travel AU) https://archiveofourown.org/series/1983088

This fic is so great but it’s unfinished 😭 I love it so much and I wish the author would finish it. Or at least give a synopsis of the ending. It’s an awesome story about a future, older AU Adam being sent back in time to the canon story because Cabeswater needs him. He lives in a slightly different dimension where he is married to Ronan, and his “sacrifice” was to the Greywaren himself, not Cabeswater (which is still in the future AU). Niall is still alive but sort of a villain. Younger, canon Adam is sent to the future AU with older long haired, in control of his power Ronan, but something is wrong with Matthew in this timeline.

This fic has an absolutely sexy and amazing AU of the AU companion smut Fic about younger Ronan coming on to older!Adam! older!Adam takes charge of the encounter and blows young!Ronan’s mind. Ooooo!

9. Another Lil_Redhead post Greywaren fic- ( though it’s an AU). This fic imagines a post-Greywaren-climax where Hennessy wasn’t able to grab all the little bits of Adam spirit from the sweetmetal sea and the lost part was Adam’s romantic love for Ronan. Adam goes back to Harvard quickly but Ronan is devastated. Ronan stays in Boston with Declan (and to be close-ish to Adam). Adam puts together the hints that he and Ronan were lovers, not just best friends. He finds his secret stash of Ronan porn on his phone and falls in lust and love again. This is another tear jerker but with a happy ending.

#the raven cycle #trc #ronan lynch #adam parrish #the dreamer trilogy #pynch

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heart-2-get · 3 months

Text

About Me

Welcome to my blog!

18+ / MINORS DNI

I'm Luna, 23, queer, demigirl, healthcare worker.

I'm into light cardiophilia, medfet, gyno, d/s, dd/lg, cnc, enemas, breeding, impregnation, breath play, virgin, anal, restraint, voyeurism, sounding, tentacles, oviposition, depth play, lactation, belly bulge, fisting, somno, mild intoxication (weed, mild sedatives/anxiolytics), knotting, omo (holding only, no wetting), humiliation, praise, and sensory deprivation

I don't share pictures of myself so don't ask and I don't want to see pictures of you without preamble, either. I don't share my heartbeat unless I choose to, either, so don't ask. If I want to listen to your heartbeat, I'll ask. I don't role play or engage in virtual exams unless I feel like it and I don't do so with complete strangers that I've never talked to before. Just because I'm a kink blog doesn't mean I'm here to fulfill your fantasies or be treated like an object. I'm lots of fun and love to chat but I don't put up with rude or gross behavior. Show a little respect and we'll get along just fine. ♥

Click through the read more for my preferences and feel free to send an ask or DM if you have questions or want to say hello!

XoXo

credit goes to @torture-steth-repeat for this template

Cardiophilia Basics

1. My heart being listened to: yes

2. Listening to others' hearts: sometimes

3. Fast heartbeats: sometimes

4. Slow heartbeats: yes

5. Naturally irregular heartbeats: yes

6. Deliberately irregular heartbeats: hard no

7. Heart via stethoscope: yes

8. Heart via EKG: yes

9. Heart via doppler: yes

10. Heart via ultrasound: yes

11. Carotid (throat) pulse: yes

12. Femoral (groin) pulse: yes

13. Radial (wrist) pulse: yes

Dark Cardiophilia

1. Shocking a healthy heart: hard no

2. Pressure/crushing a healthy heart: hard no

3. Drowning + heart monitoring: only in fiction

4. Suffocation + heart monitoring: only in fiction

5. Choking + heart monitoring: only in fiction

6. Drugs used to affect the heart: hard no

7. Knifeplay + heart monitoring: hard no

8. Needle or injection into the heart: hard no

9. Gunplay (shooting the heart)*: hard no

10. Being dominated (in a cardiophilia way): yes

11. Dominating someone else (in a cardiophilia way): sometimes

12. Consensual non-consent (CNC) play: yes

13. Heart rips*: hard no

14. Fucked into cardiac arrest*: hard no

15. Heart being fucked*: hard no

16. Heart being licked or bitten*: hard no

17. Heart being eaten*: hard no

18. Hands squeezing the heart directly*: hard no

19. 'Unhappy endings' (RIP) for dark cardiophilia*: hard no

Medfet/Resus

1. Blood pressure readings: yes

2. Medical equipment: yes

3. Medical exam roleplay: yes

4. Resuscitation via CPR*: hard no

5. Resuscitation via defibrillator*: hard no

6. Resuscitation via AED*: hard no

7. Cardiac arrest*: hard no

8. Respiratory arrest*: hard no

9. Sex and resus combined: hard no

10. 'Unhappy endings' (RIP) for resus*: hard no

11. Anesthesia*: hard no

12. Breathing masks: hard no

Graphic

1. Open heart surgery footage: hard no

2. Real animal hearts: hard no

3. Real human hearts outside the body: hard no

4. Real human hearts in autopsies: hard no

Adjacent Kinks

1. Gyno medical exams: yes

2. Pregnancy/breeding: yes

3. Belly sounds: no

4. Cardiophilia + furry: no

5. Vampires*: sometimes

6. Necrophliia*: hard no

#cardiophilia #heartbeats #heartbeat lover #medfet

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astrangergivingthestrangewelcome · 8 months

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But I also want to take Seward's perspective bc I also think all the "Seward is an absolute monster" people are majorly missing the point of how all this happens. Like alright Renfield has never hurt anyone but the stuff with the flies and spiders and sparrows is relatively damning, and it is fairly natural to wonder if he's planning to take it all the way up the food chain. Renfield gets a lot of sympathy on here (as he should) however I personally believe that's bc he's fictional character. If there was a guy in your community who you watched eat flies and spider and talk about blood and if you heard that he had eaten some sparrows, I do not believe that most of you would befriend him. Speaking for myself I think I would remain polite and give him a wide berth. I probably would be a little afraid of him, even though he'd done nothing to me.

Dr Seward's behavior is human, but it shows how little desire there is within himself to hold himself to a higher standard. He is content to make medical diagnoses on vibes and he doesn't even realize he's doing it. In my hypothetical scenario where Renfield is a guy in my apartment building I know I would adopt the mindset of "wish him the best but this guy needs professional help which I am not equipped to give" and like. 😕 in this story anyway this is a fantasy. The professional help people have all the same tendencies to go with their gut reactions + gut fears.

+ there's the power dynamic here too of course, Seward's little "he's gonna be calling himself God soon" is definitely born of him actually being insulted that Renfield treats him the same as an orderly etc, etc, and the joke about the straight waistcoat is. Horrible, but I am literally begging you all to understand that John Seward has a relatively normal moral compass. He has just become very comfortable + uncritical of the norms of his field. Pair that with exceptional insecurity and you get this particular brand of awfulness but I don't think we're all so very far away from becoming this as we might like to think.

#dracula daily #john seward #renfield

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rdiowxdeaddove · 3 months

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alright so like. nurse gee experimentation. He was my boyfriend, a regular nurse practitioner, though a bit stressed. He had been talking about quitting nursing and I had always told him if he felt like he could then he should leave.

So he did, but he seemed off after that, taking up a weird interest in the horrors of vintage medical practices. I wasn't too turned away by it, it wasn't the weirdest interest I had ever heard of, in fact I had a bit of the same interest too. Morbid curiosity was always something I had. Suddenly they started to collect things though, vintage nurse dresses and vintage nurse aprons, they collected a whole bunch of real surplus nurse outfits. It was cute, and they were adorable in them, so again I paid no extra attention to it. Then they started collecting... other things... scalpels, both vintage and new, and a bunch of older medical equipment. He assured me that they were just to ogle at and most of them were non functional or harmless anyways. I shrugged them off as another facet of their love for vintage medical stuff.

But as he started to collect more things his demeanor changed, he seemed a little more curious in my body. not in the sexy, “I wanna explore you” way, but in the “how much do you eat in a day”, “how many times do you masturbate in a week and what do you use”, “how many times do you pee in a day” kind of ways. It was disturbing to hear Gerard use this sort of pseudo nurse voice when asking these questions, sounding professional even when asking sometimes very unprofessional questions.

All of it lead up to now. I had fallen asleep in our bed last night, waiting for Gerard to come to bed after writing their current work in progress comic. But when I woke up I was strapped down to a metal table, much like they would use in surgeries in the 1960s. I wondered for a second how this had gotten down here in the basement without me noticing but that train of thought was quickly replaced with fear as I heard the creaky door open. I tried to look up to see who it was and saw Gerard, wearing one of their vintage nursing outfits.

He started walking down the stairs, their hands behind their back. “It's nice to see you're awake, I wanted to let you rest up for a little while before we started.” A smile was present on their face, the same one they always seemed to have in photos. A wave of panic flooded my senses as I realized that it was Gerard who had strapped you down to a table and had a stand with nearly all of their medical tools and some of my sex toys on it.

I quickly tried to tell my boyfriend to stop and ask why he was doing this, but that's when I noticed the gag in the mouth preventing me from speaking. It was rubber and shaped sort of like a bit gag. “Oh my sweet thing, puppies don't talk so I took the liberty of keeping a bone in your mouth so you don't worry yourself with silly human words” They uttered everything so sweetly you'd almost mistake it for them being nice, but what they were saying broke that. He reached a gloved hand up to tug at the leather strap keeping the rubber bone gag in place and hummed. I noticed their gloves were made out of latex, something that stood out since they weren't historical in anyway but had been a sort of… thing I had liked but never told them.

As if they were reading my mind they responded, “Oh, do you like the gloves? I found all of your adorable little posts about the things you like and thought I'd try them out~” I wanted so badly to blush and melt at the fact that he had done that for me but all I felt was overwhelming fear. there were other things I had talked about on that account, particularly how much I wanted to be kidnapped and cut up. The thing was, that was fantasy, I hadn't ever wanted it to really happen against my will.

I struggled against my binds once more, muffled sounds coming from my covered mouth and tears streaming down my face. Gerard quickly put a hand down on my chest, pushing me back down and keeping me still. He gave me this look that said “if you try to get away I will make this much worse for you” and I hesitantly gave up for now. They had all of the power in this situation and that both scared and lit up something inside of me.

Gerard turned to the small tray holding the tools, picking a pair of older shears off of the table. Trying not to struggle away and fight against him was a battle with myself, my brain screaming at me to try to do something. But before I could think too much he pulled the collar of my shirt away from my body and started cutting the shirt I was wearing into pieces to take off. The cold metal of the table finally hit against the bare skin of my back, making me flinch and twitch a little.

A few more tears strayed down my cheeks at the cold and Gerard pet my hair gently, shushing me like how you would with a frightened animal. He continued cutting my clothes, going for my pajama pants next but leaving my boxers on. After he finished taking my pants off he set the shears down.

“Now what do I start with…” They tapped their chin and hummed in thought, picking up one of their more modern and sharper scalpels to inspect it. A turn towards me was a sign that they were going to use it on me, making me start sobbing again with fear. “Shh now puppy, this is your treat! You just don't understand yet.” They lightly set the sharp side onto my stomach. Pressing down and pulling quickly, little beads of blood appeared and started to trickle down my skin. I cried and tried to pull away from the pain, tugging at the leather straps and thrashing around.

For what seemed like hours this continued, everytime I would struggle he would hold me down and slice into me more. Eventually I had cuts all over, some of them deeper than others but all of them bleeding. At some point I started having more than a negative reaction to them. By the time he finally set down the scalpel I was hard and leaking pre cum. It felt like my body was completely betraying me, I didn't want to like this, yet it felt so good to just give into it.

Gerard smirked and set his hand down on my crotch, just barely touching me. I moaned and tried to lift my hips off of the table. “Oh pup, don't worry, there's so much more I have ready for you. Just be patient for me~”

gonna cut it there cause I can

- 🐕

THE WAY YOU DEVOUR EVERY SINGLE TIME 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

#grd #rdioshow!#🐕 anon #tw noncon #tw knives #tw blood #pete and his godly fanfics

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