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rynwritesstuff · 17 days ago

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Into the West - Sheriff!Flip Zimmerman x Reader

Sheriff!Flip Zimmerman x Reader

Warnings: Brief period-accurate shittiness towards women, mentions of blood, brief violence, NSFW, (unprotected) PIV sex, dirty talk

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: Based on a request by the magnificent @safarigirlsp! Sheriff Flip and reader have some eye-opening sex after an incident at the saloon, which reader runs.

The sun is setting over the small Western town. There’s a breeze – soft but there nonetheless – and Sheriff Zimmerman’s hair blows gently before he puts his hat back on. His boots dig into the sandy road as he walks along. His head is held high and his gun is holstered at his hip. Women turn to look as he passes by, and he bites back a smile as he chews on his tobacco.

Horses whinny and neigh, carriage wheels turn, and working men grunt. The sounds of the town are music to Sheriff Zimmerman’s ears. Nothing is awry. Nothing is out of place. Nothing is wrong. He turns the corner, brows furrowing as the bright sunset peers down at him through the clouds. Zimmerman brings a hand up, blocking the light from his view as he continues on down the way.

“Sheriff?” a voice calls. Zimmerman looks around as quick footsteps approach. The Sheriff smiles, glad to see his good friend, John Bartlett, approaching. He’s a small man with strawberry hair and red cheeks to match. His brows are knit together, but Sheriff Zimmerman hopes that it’s because of the bright sun and not out of concern. “Ah,” Zimmerman says, “John. Evenin’–”

“There’s a tussle in the saloon,” John tells Zimmerman. “The owner, she–”

John is hardly able to get his words out before Sheriff Zimmerman is taking off down the road, hand flying down to his gun. He knows you’re working tonight. Oh, for Christ’s sake, you work every damn night. You work too much, you deal with too many men who wanna play with fire, something was bound to happen at some point, wasn’t it?

Zimmerman bursts into the saloon, hand still resting on his holstered gun. People’s heads turn. The music isn’t playing, but Zimmerman figures that it hasn’t been for a while. It almost always stops when something starts happening. It’s in people’s nature to wanna hear the goings on, he supposes.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” comes a loud, familiar voice. Your voice. Zimmerman’s eyes widen, and as he surges forward to round the corner, he hears the sound of glass shattering, then stumbling. He turns the corner, and just as he does, a man falls to the ground in front of him. Zimmerman moves back so that the gentleman doesn’t fall on him, then looks up with wild, confused eyes. You stand in front of the floored man, a broken bottle in hand. Your chest, which is accentuated by your corseted dress, rises and falls quickly.

Your eyes meet the Sheriff’s and he steps up to you as everyone in the room goes silent. He says your name, soft and purposeful. You watch as he approaches you.

“Let me have that,” Zimmerman says, reaching for the jagged bottle top. You move away. He pauses, then says your name again.

“The fucker came at me,” you say quickly. You gesture to your arm. “He grabbed me right here, right here–”

“If he tries again, I’ll shoot ‘im,” Zimmerman says in that honest tone of his. You know he’s not lying to you like all the other men in this town do. “Give me to bottle, I don’t want you t’cut yourself.”

You exhale softly, then hand it over. Zimmerman looks at the man on the ground. His head is bleeding where you hit him, and he’s groaning softly. He’s covered in beer and broken glass, and you clench your jaw at the sight. He tries to get up, but Zimmerman nudges him back down. He groans.

“Let him get back up,” you say, adrenaline pumping. “Let him come at me again, I swear I’ll–”

“I’ll take it from here,” Sheriff Zimmerman says firmly, looking back at you. “Are you hurt?”

You shake your head. His eyes dart down to your hand, the one holding the bottle. You look down too. Blood drips from your hand to the hardwood floor. You didn’t even feel it. You bring your hand up to rest against your chest carefully, letting yourself bleed onto your dress. It’ll come out, you remind yourself. It’ll come right out.

Zimmerman grabs a pair of cuffs from his belt, then demands that the man on the ground roll onto his stomach. He does so slowly, clearly not wanting to get further hurt by the glass, but the Sheriff doesn’t seem to care all that much about the glass as he leans down and chains the man’s wrists together. He yanks him up to his feet, then starts towards the door. You let out another shaky breath, then look around the saloon.

“Get back to your drinks,” you say grimly. You turn away as the music starts back up. You throw the bottle top into the trash, then reach for the broom with trembling hands. Your hand. You feel it, now, the sharp, throbbing pain in it, and pause. One of the barkeeps approaches you with a small smile.

“I’ll get the mess,” she says to you. “Go wash up.”

You nod, then silently move upstairs to your quarters. There’s an angry lump in your throat. The audacity of that man, you think as you start the water in your washroom. The fucking nerve of him to put his hands on me. I should’ve jammed that broken bottle right into his–

You shake your head as you pull some alcohol from the cupboard and unscrew the top.

“Fuckin’ Zimmerman,” you whisper. You pour the alcohol over the cut, cringing as you do. “I had it all under-control. Everything was under fuckin’ control.”

The sun has almost completely set, now, and when you put your hand beneath the warm running water, you glance out the window at the town you love so dearly. You really do find this town beautiful and full of hope – if only the men would stop treating you like garbage.

How many times have you had to defend yourself like this? How many times have you had to push back or pull away or tell a man off? What a curse it is to live in a time where men don’t know how to treat a goddamn woman right.

Still, life goes on. The saloon draws in money, enough for you to keep this place open and thriving. You’ve made a name for yourself out here. You know damn-near everyone’s drink orders by heart, you know names and faces, you know the different walks of life your patrons come from. That’s a gift, being able to hold all of it.

But sometimes you’re tired, and tonight is one of those nights. You dry off your hand and wrap it up, not knowing how much time has passed. On your way back downstairs, you hear feet coming up. The footfall is heavy – a man’s. Your heart surges, and you consider turning back, going to get your gun, but it’s pointless when you see who it is. You exhale.

“You fuckin’ scared me, Zimmerman,” you huff as the Sheriff ascends the steps. He offers you a smile.

“You’ve got a filthy mouth, ma’am,” he tells you as he continues towards you.

“Tell me something I don’t already know,” you say, crossing your arms. Zimmerman stops on the step beneath yours, but he’s so tall that you still have to tilt your head to look him in the eye like this. His smile widens.

“I thought about you all day long, miss.”

The corner of your mouth turns up. You hate how soft he makes you, but you also fucking love it.

“All day? How’s that?”

“Well,” the Sheriff starts, sliding his hands over your hips, “I woke up and thought about you while I washed up. Then, I thought about you while I got dressed, and headed down to the jail, and–”

“Alright, alright,” you say, pushing at his chest. “Enough’a that.”

Zimmerman catches your wrist. His smile fades slightly.

“Your hand. It’s alright?”

You nod.

“Just a small cut,” you say.

“I’m glad you got ‘im before I did,” he says. You sigh. You know what he means.

“I know,” you say, looking away. Zimmerman squeezes your hips.

“Lookit me.” You do. “I’m here to give you a good time.”

Somehow, that lump in your throat is back. Are you angry, still? Or is it something else, do you think? You’ve got half a mind to wrap your arms around him and cry. That’s so unlike you. He knows you’re sweet on him, though, and he is, too. He’d probably welcome any crying, any tears you’ve got in you, but you just can’t.

“A good time. Zimmerman, what–”

“Don’t call me that,” the Sheriff says quietly. It’s a soft request. A prayer. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck.

“Flip.”

“Mm.”

“What’re you gonna do to show me a good time, Flip?”

“The same thing I do everytime.”

“No. Give me more than that.”

Flip looks taken aback. His brows furrow slightly.

“More?”

“That’s right. More. I give all’a myself to this town just to be met with perverts and angry prostitutes and people tryin’ to take down my business, so yes.” You clench your jaw and bring your hands to his cheeks. “I want more.”

Flip glances at your lips, then presses his firmly against them. You sigh, letting your body move forward against his. You pull yourself into him, kissing him back with fervor.

“I’ll give ya whatever you want, sweetheart,” Flip breathes in-between kisses as you grab onto his collar and tug him up the stairs with you. He goes willingly, and when you reach the top step, Flip pulls you down the hallway to get to your quarters. He turns the handle, and the two of you move inside. He kicks it shut behind him. You unbuckle his belt and toss it aside, letting his gun and other things clatter on the dresser. You unbutton his shirt quickly.

“Get me out of this dress,” you tell him. He begins to undo it, kissing you again. He lets out a soft grunt against your mouth. He must know that you need this. He must be alright with that. The thought makes you want to weep.

Flip pulls your dress off and throws it aside, then tugs your shift up over your head, leaving you bare in front of him. You reach down to undo your boots and toss them aside while he shrugs off his shirt. Your body is properly revealed to him when you get your boots off and stand up straight. Flip looks you up and down as you move towards him, and he puts his hands on your cheeks.

“Prettiest girl in the West,” he says. He kisses you, then, and you never were a religious woman, but this is how you imagine Heaven. If you were to die tonight, you’d die happy and needed. Flip Zimmerman always makes you feel that way. Christ, maybe Heaven isn’t a place, but a feeling. Maybe it’s the way the sunset turns the sky pink and orange. Maybe it’s the way the saloon feels after nine o’clock when the drinks are strong and the music is loud. Or, maybe it’s the way Flip Zimmerman holds your face like you’re the most fragile thing he’s ever seen – like you're the only woman around.

Either way, you’re here now, and you have him like this, and anything else happening outside of this room is unimportant. You get on the bed and Flip follows after you eagerly.

“Take the rest of your clothes off and get over here,” you tell him, leaning back and watching as he undresses. He chuckles softly.

“You’re mighty bossy tonight.”

“I’ve got a lot on my mind,” you tell him. “I’ve got a lot that I want.”

Flip finishes undressing, his cock hard and proud, you see, and you beckon him towards the bed. He gets on top of you easily and nudges himself against your core. You spread your legs further for him, inviting him to press on.

One of your hands moves up to hold onto his hair, and the other hand rests on his shoulder. You lean up and nibble at his jaw as he presses his tip inside of you. You inhale sharply, then let out a satisfied hum.

“C’mon, Sheriff,” you breathe, “give it to me rough.”

Flip smiles against you, then thrusts the rest of the way in. You gasp again, brows furrowing. “Oh, right there,” you sigh. “Right there, give me more, Flip.”

Flip draws his hips back, then pushes them forward again. Your body bounces with each fast thrust. His cock hits your sweet spot over and over and over, and your moans get louder each time. Surely they can hear you downstairs, but you don’t care. How could you when you’ve got Flip like this? How could you, when he��s making you feel this fucking good? You tug at his hair.

“Is this – Mmm – enough?” Flip asks as he fucks you harshly. You tug on his hair again.

“Yes, it’s enough, Zimmerman. M-Making me sound n-needy . . . Oh, fuck . . .”

“Not needy,” Flip shakes his head. “Just a woman w-who knows what she wants.”

Your grip on him tightens. He gets you. You like to pretend that he doesn’t sometimes, but he truly does. There’s not another man like Flip Zimmerman. You’ll never need another man as badly as you need him. Hot tears spring into your eyes.

You’ll never love another man the way you love him.

“I like a man who u-understands,” you breathe. You smile at him as he pounds into you. Your core clenches around his cock, begging him for more, and he obliges without needing to be told. He gets it. Whatever it is, he gets it. You can always count on that.

You wrap your legs around him as you pull him closer. You hold him against you, keeping his firm body against yours. It almost feels like an embrace, holding him like this. It almost feels perfect. It almost feels like Heaven.

“Please,” you breathe.

“I know, sweetheart,” Flip grunts. He’s close. You moan.

“Mm, please!”

“I’m almost there,” Flip promises. Sweat beads at his hairline as he continues, and you groan.

“Fuck, fuck . . . Flip!”

You feel him pull out suddenly, and he grunts as he jerks his cock until he’s cumming across your stomach with a moan. His eyes flutter and his cheeks flush. You love seeing him come undone for you. Your chest rises and falls quickly as you look up at him. You tuck a few pieces of hair behind his ears, then smile at him.

“How was that?” Flip asks. He goes to grab his handkerchief off of the floor, but you stop him. You don’t want him to pull away just yet. You nod, then kiss him again, blissed out from what he gave to you. You moan quietly against his mouth.

“More than enough, Sheriff.”

Tagging a few friends: @mrs-gucci @babbushka @safarigirlsp

rynwritesstuff, 2025 | Divider by saradika-graphics

#rynwritesstuff #adcu #adam driver #flip zimmerman #flip zimmerman x reader #flip zimmerman x you #flip zimmerman x y/n #flip zimmerman smut #wester flip #western flip zimmerman #sheriff flip #sheriff flip zimmerman #old west AU #adam driver fanfiction #my writing

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rynwritesstuff · 19 days ago

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Thank you for all of the lovely requests I received yesterday and last night! I can take a few more if anyone has ideas!! <3

Requests Are Open!

I thought I would make an official announcement to let you know that requests are open here on my blog! Please read the guidelines before sending something in :) <3

Happy requesting!

#adam driver fanfiction #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #flip zimmerman x reader #flip zimmerman x you #adam driver smut #kylo x reader #kylo ren smut #flip zimmerman smut #rynwritesstuff

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rynwritesstuff · 20 days ago

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Requests Are Open!

I thought I would make an official announcement to let you know that requests are open here on my blog! Please read the guidelines before sending something in :) <3

Happy requesting!

#rynwritesstuff #adcu #adam driver #kylo ren #flip zimmerman #clyde logan #pale burn this #charlie barber #billy the kid #coriolanus snow #paterson

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rynwritesstuff · 20 days ago

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Request Guidelines

Below the cut, you will find all guidelines and information needed to make a request here on my blog.

☆ Please remember that I have the right to decline anything that makes me uncomfortable or doesn't strike my fancy. Please also remember that this is an 18+ space, and you should not be here if you are a minor. ☆

Who I write for: Billy The Kid (Tom Blyth), Coriolanus Snow, Kylo Ren, Flip Zimmerman, Clyde Logan, Charlie Barber, Paterson, and Pale (Burn This). I'm also open to AU's for these characters. If you have an idea for an Adam Driver character that isn't listed, please send me an ask or message.

What I will NOT write: Incest, extremely dark content (murder of reader, rape, etc.), things relating to self-harm or eating disorders. I reserve the right to add things to this list and turn away ideas if they make me uncomfortable.

A few more things to keep in mind: I always try to keep my reader as neutral as possible in terms of descriptions. My writing is for everyone regardless of what you look like. That being said, my reader has a female body because that is what I know as a cis woman.

Please be patient with me, as I am a working individual who sometimes can't find the time to write. I will get to your request when I can if I've decided to write it.

If you want to know if I'm currently taking requests, please refer to my Navigation post and look for the bullet point that says requests are currently... in order to find out

Happy Requesting!

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rynwritesstuff · 20 days ago

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Thank you for almost 300 on this even though I’ve been MIA forever <33

Nosferatu - Kylo Ren x Reader

Vampire!Kylo Ren x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, PIV sex, blood-sucking, brief mention of death, and a deep eternal bond between Reader and Kylo (duh)

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: You and a mysterious man - or creature - from beyond share a passionate, lustful evening together. (Heavily inspired by Nosferatu)

“Come to me.”

Thunder claps and booms outside. The rain falls, heavy as hooves against a paved road. Midnight approaches, a massive and dark blanket falling over the town. The window of your bedroom is open, your arms outstretched as if to say: I am here. I am open. I am ready.

Ready, you are, for whatever he may give you tonight. You ache for it, long for it like a man starved and thirsty. Many a time you have gotten drunk off of his touch, and you picture him now, above you with wide eyes like a beast in the night who has caught his prey. His hair, long and dark and wavy – like a black halo around his pale face. His eyes, brown and unshining as they stare into yours. His nose, his cheeks, his forehead – unflushed and white yet still so touchable, so easy to need.

He is not always nude when he comes to you, but whenever he seems to be, it is something that you savor. You remember the taste of him and bring two of your own fingers to your mouth. You rest them on your tongue. They are heavy when you press down, and your lips close around them. You hunger for him, for the way he makes you feel. What you wouldn’t give, now, to feel those large, cold hands on your breasts, on your cheeks, around your throat . . .

The lawn in the back of the home is well-manicured, trimmed to perfection, but the wind blows leaves and flowers to and fro across it. There is a fountain in the center of the green grass. Rose bushes surround it on both sides, and as you open your eyes and stare out into the wet night, you feel it – you feel him.

His presence washes over you suddenly, so suddenly that you gasp for breath and pull your fingers from your mouth. Sweet air rushes into your lungs, and a chill runs down your back. However cold it may be, though, it does not diminish the heat between your thighs. The knowledge that he is here, that he sees you . . . It is enough to make your core flood.

Tree branches scrape against the side of the house angrily, but you pay them no mind. He is here. Here.

Your Kylo Ren.

The ground is wet and cold beneath you. How you got here, you aren’t sure. Your nightgown sticks to you as rain pours from the Heavens. He is coming. You press your hands against the grass as rain water soaks into your clothing from the ground. Your hand moves down your body; over your throat, over your breasts, down your stomach–

He is on you. You gasp, eyes wide with terror and arousal. Kylo Ren’s bare, cold body straddles yours, and when you try to move your hand, you realize that he has you in his grasp.

“You are not for the living,” comes his deep voice. Your breath hitches as Kylo presses his hands against your thighs. He slides his hands up, up, up, and with his movement, your nightgown slides up as well. “You are not for humankind.”

Your bottom lip trembles.

What an endeavor this is. What sin, what joy. What luck it is that you have this at all. You hardly feel the rain against your face, now. It seems to no longer touch you now that Kylo has thrust himself upon you. You bring your hands up to touch his cheeks. He lets you.

“Kylo,” you breathe, voice barely audible above the thunder and lightning in the sky. If someone in the house were to look out into the yard, they would hardly see you. The rainfall is too persistent and steadfast for much to be visible through it. You are alone with Kylo Ren, alone amongst the dirt and grass and flowers.

His tip presses against your core – when did you spread your legs? – and you gasp again, head falling back. His hand comes to rest on your jaw. He holds you there as he presses in. You groan in pleasure, nipples hard from the freezing rain and the pleasure of it all. This is filthy, you know it. You are hardly sure if it’s real or if it’s simply a fantasy you’ve made up for yourself to lessen the pain of being alone, but God, if this is what gets you sent down to the Devil, then perhaps you’ll die pleased. Why see Heaven if erotic pleasures such as this cannot take place? This is worth it. This is worth everything.

“Kylo . . .” you moan as his body rocks above you. His hand slides from your jaw to your throat. He squeezes, and hazily, you groan again. Never have you ever felt so full, so complete. The Earth falls away from you. Are you floating, or just imagining it? Is Kylo real, or just a manifestation of all the dirty things you yearn for?

Oh, what silly questions. None of it matters. Not really. Not now, when his cock is deep inside of you. Dirt stains you – your nightgown, your skin, your hair – But no part of you cares. Perhaps this is what it is like to be buried, you think between thrusts. Heavy. Wet. Cold. Suffocating. Delicious.

Life, powerful and strange, seems to find a way. You hope that when you die, it will not be frightening. You reach up and cling to Kylo, taking handfuls of his dark curls as he grunts above you.

“Please,” you sob. “Please . . .”

“You shall be one with me ever-eternally,” Kylo tells you. Your heart swells. He needs you. You are his affliction. What good is a man without a woman? What needs are met? What joys are felt? What is the meaning of anything if Kylo Ren doesn’t have you? “Do you swear it?”

You pull at his hair. You need him. Whatever he will give tonight, you need it now. White hot pleasure fills you. You scream, but the thunder swallows it. He fills you, and the feeling of it makes your body lurch. His hands grip your breasts as you push your chest up.

“Do you swear it?” Kylo demands again. You feel as if your eyes have opened. Was there a time before him? Does any other man exist? You offer up your chest even further, and he rips open the front of your nightgown.

“I swear it,” you sigh. Kylo presses his face against the center of your chest, mouth open, and deep down you must know what is coming, because you run your fingers through his hair and pull him closer.

“My dearest love . . . I swear it.”

Teeth sink into your skin, and you gasp sharply as tears fill your eyes. Gulp. Gulp. Gulp. Your head is light, your body is numb. You moan softly as he pulls away and looks down at you. His hand goes to your cheek and wipes away the tears and raindrops.

“You cannot love,” you breathe. A realization, a prayer. Kylo’s mouth presses against yours firmly. You can taste your blood, metallic and warm against the coldness of him. Perhaps this is not a dream . . .

“I cannot,” he says. “Yet, I cannot be sated without you.”

You look into his eyes and hold his cheek. You believe him. A scar runs down the side of his face, and you wonder just how long it has been since this scar was fresh. Somehow, you cannot bring yourself to care about whatever the answer may be.

“I am yours, just as you are mine,” you say, nodding. Kylo kisses you once more. You close your eyes. The rain is falling against your face again, sharp and chilled. You feel as if you sink against the ground, falling further into the grass. You open your eyes and see nothing but the fountain, the rose bushes, the leaf-strewn lawn. You sit up, soaked from the storm, your heart pounding against your chest.

Your chest. You look down. Yes, your nightgown is still torn open. Yes, your skin has been punctured by teeth that must have been hungry and ready.

Oh, yes, it was real.

Tagging a few vampire-loving friends: @safarigirlsp @babbushka @mrs-gucci

Divider by saradika-graphics

rynwritesstuff, 2025

#feeling very lucky #rynwritesstuff #adcu #adam driver #adam driver fanfiction #kylo ren #kylo ren au #kylo ren smut #kylo ren fic #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren fanfiction #vampire kylo ren x reader #vampire!kylo ren

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rynwritesstuff · 24 days ago

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The Cabin - Flip Zimmerman x Reader

Flip Zimmerman x Reader

Warnings: NSFW (PIV sex, dirty talk), bickering, general creepy vibes, potential for supernatural weirdness

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: Flip takes you up to the Zimmerman family cabin on a cold, wintery night.

Flip Zimmerman is no stranger to the harsh winds that come with heading up into the Colorado mountains. The air itself feels icy, almost sharp against any and all bare skin. His scruff is frosty, and in this moment, he really fucking wishes he had brought more than his usual fleece-lined jean jacket, but he wasn’t expecting to spend much time outdoors.

His trusty red truck, though, was beginning to feel strange and abnormal to drive, and sure enough, when Flip had pulled over to investigate, he found a popped tire. Embarrassingly, he’d gone into a curse-filled rant about how fucking stupid this trip is and how this isn’t how the goddamn weekend was supposed to be and, of course, how badly he hates the motherfucker who decided to leave something sharp in the road. It was all bullshit.

And you, because you loved him – and also because you were several hours away from home already – tried to calm him down, to no avail. He didn’t want to hear it, so you stopped and got back into the car like he wanted.

The sun has begun to set, and as frustrated as you feel, you must admit that you love the view of the mountains against the pink and orange sky. The snow falling creates a dusty effect on the entire view, and you’ve got half a mind to pull out your camera and take a few pictures, but you’re sure Flip wouldn’t appreciate the sentiment.

You shove your hands beneath your thighs, hoping that doing this will generate some heat for them. The car is getting colder now that it’s turned off. You hum softly, looking to your right at the wooded treeline. The trees are tall and white with snow. They’re thick, too. You wonder how anyone or anything could comfortably move through such a congested forest.

“Got it!” comes Flip’s voice. You smile as he stands up.

“Good job, babe!” you say, opening the truck door. You are immediately hit with a frozen gust of wind, and you inhale sharply. “Goddamn.”

“Get back in the–”

“I’m gonna help you put this away so you can warm up,” you tell him over the wind. “Go start the car.”

Flip nods, in no mood to say ‘no’ to the idea of getting into the warm car, and walks around to his side. He gets up into the driver seat and turns the key, making the engine hum to life. The heat immediately starts up.

Movement.

Flip glances over to the right. You’re back by the bed of the truck, he notes, and his brows furrow. The trees seem to rustle as something scurries back into the wilderness. Flip gets out of the truck.

“Here,” he says, keeping his eye on the treeline as he opens your door for you. “I’ll get the rest.”

“You sure?” you ask. Flip nods, and he seems insistent, so you oblige. He quickly finishes loading everything back into the truck bed before getting back into the truck. He locks the doors, which you find odd but not terribly concerning, and he buckles his seatbelt as the hot air blows.

“Look at me?” you say. Flip turns to you, one hand on the wheel as he prepares to continue up the mountain. You smile at his red face, then cup his cheeks with your warm hands. You give him a quick kiss.

“This is fine,” you tell him. He nods. “This doesn’t ruin anything.” He nods again. “And I kinda like seein’ you work on the truck, it’s hot.”

Flip cracks a smile at this, then gives you another kiss.

“I’ll show you ‘hot’ once we get up to the cabin,” he says. You chuckle.

“I’m gonna hold you to that, Detective.”

Flip hums and presses on the gas. The truck surges forward up the snowy mountain road.

The famous Zimmerman cabin is a place you’ve been hearing about since you and Flip began to date. He’s mentioned it countless times, telling you about all of his summers and winters spent there with his family. So much sledding, so much fishing, so much love was experienced there. You’d always sort of wondered if he was talking out of his ass about the whole thing; the two of you have been together for almost six months, now, you figured that any time was a good time, but not Flip. No, he’s too much of a perfectionist. He takes pride in doing things right, so he waited until you really, really needed a break from work to propose a weekend getaway up in the mountains at the Zimmerman family cabin, just the two of you.

When his truck starts up the path, you immediately notice just how wooded it is – it’s almost the same as the forest you’d seen earlier, down by where Flip was changing the tire.

“Did you and your cousins used to play out here?” you ask as gravel and snow crunch beneath the truck’s tires. Flip smiles.

“All the time,” he says. “Hide n’ seek was our favorite.”

“This seems like a good place for hide n’ seek.”

“It was,” he nods. “It would be a group of six or seven of us out here at night–”

“At night? Here, in the woods?”

“Fuck yeah, it was terrifying!” Flip laughs. “We loved it. The worst was being found last.”

“How’s that?”

“You just know there’s a pack out there lookin’ for you. All you could hear was your own breathing and the little fuckin’ bugs, and you’d hear their footsteps getting closer, and closer, and sometimes they’d sneak up on you just to scare the shit outta you . . .” Flip chuckles. “I loved it.”

You shudder.

“I think I’d be too freaked out.”

“Well, luckily we don’t have to play,” Flip says as he pulls up to the cabin. You look up, brows raised as you take in the sight. It’s bigger than you thought, with beautiful woodwork and a vintage feel. You smile.

“Oh, wow,” you say, looking out the window as Flip parks the truck and turns it off. “It’s so pretty.”

“It’s even better inside. C’mon, help me so we don’t have to take two trips.”

The two of you get out of the truck. You try to ignore the strange feeling you have in your gut. You can’t quite place the feeling, but you know you’d like to get inside. After all, the sun has almost completely set, and visibility is low due to the thick trees.

You take your bags and Flip takes his. Snow cracks underfoot as you trudge up to the front door. Flip unlocks it, and you step inside. You smile brightly as Flip comes in behind you. You listen to him re-lock the door as you look over the cabin’s interior.

The sitting area and kitchen flow together, clearly meaning to make the entire first floor feel social and open. The hardwood floors are beautiful and solid. A large rug sits in the center of couches and chairs facing one another. An old TV sits on a television stand at the front of the room. A hallway is visible, leading to, presumably, a bathroom. Closer to the kitchen is another hallway, which leads to a dining room.

You turn to the left, running your hand along the railing of the stairs as Flip walks around turning on lights. You start upstairs. The steps creak as you go. The second floor of the cabin is loft-style: The entire first floor is visible if you simply peer over the rail wrapping along the large landing. You count three bedrooms and a second bathroom upstairs before Flip comes up behind you with his own bags.

“Master bedroom’s down here,” he says, stepping in front of you and turning on more lights. You follow him down the hall and into the bedroom. It’s large and spacious, with a nice, big window overlooking the side yard of the cabin.

“There’s a firepit out back, but it’s too cold to use, I think,” Flip says. “Unless you really fuckin’ want a fire.”

You smile, setting your bags down and walking towards him.

“What I really want is you, Detective Zimmerman,” you say, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck. Flip drops his bags and puts his hands on your hips. You smile up at him with a twinkle in your eye that he could recognize anywhere.

“You’re all worked up already?” Flip asks, smiling softly. You sway teasingly, your hips moving from side to side as flip continues to hold them. “I can’t help it. You just look so fucking good . . .”

Flip’s hands slide down lower to grip your ass, and your smile widens. He kisses you, then, and your mouth works against his desperately. Your hands slide up along his cheeks as he tugs you closer. The heat of his body draws you in and makes you hunger for him. His erection is present and obvious, and you let one of your hands slide down to hold him.

“You’re worked up, too,” you breathe as he runs his teeth along your jaw and pushes your jacket off your shoulders. Your arms fall back so that the jacket can hit the ground, then you touch him again. Flip’s breath catches.

“‘Cause you’re kissin’ me like that,” Flip says. His large hands give your ass a squeeze, and you press yourself against him solidly. You push off his jacket and it falls down beside his bags.

Flip’s hands travel up your body, and he pulls at your shirt. You know exactly what he wants, and you have half a mind to tease him, but you want it, too. You let him pull your shirt up over your head, and he throws it into the pile of bags and clothes already on the floor.

“Mmm, very forward today, Detective . . .”

You step back towards the bed, then sit down on it. You take a moment to remove your boots while Flip does the same, and once his boots are off, he’s on you, his hands pressing against your breasts firmly. He fits his body between your legs, leaning back only to remove your pants and underwear for you. You grind up against his belt buckle, shuddering at the coldness of it while Flip squeezes your thigh and kisses along your jaw.

“Take your fuckin’ pants off,” you breathe, a hand in his hair as he kisses your skin. He chuckles quietly, but leans back anyway. His hands go to his belt, and he undoes it. Watching Flip undress always makes you feel lucky, and you suspect it always will. Outside, the wind blows and howls and whistles. You feel cozy and warm inside, especially now that Flip is naked from the waist down. You run your hands along his skin as he gets on top of you again.

Your legs spread for him, and this serves as an invitation for him to make himself comfortable. He brings a hand to his erection, gives it a few strokes, then presses his tip against your entrance. You hum, smiling up at him.

“C’mon, don’t tease me,” you say, tugging on his hair.

“Why not? It’s so much fun.”

You hit his chest playfully.

“You’re a sadist,” you tell him, lifting your hips. “Get on with it, Detective. I haven’t got all–”

He thrusts in, cutting you off. You gasp as he begins to rock his hips steadily. Your core clenches around him, and Flip grunts. Your breasts bounce, the bed creaks. You close your eyes and think of all the poor fuckin’ people who’ll never get to have this. This . . . Damn, this is as close to bliss as you’ll ever be. Your head falls back, your eyes roll. You feel Flip’s hands on your wrists, pinning you down as he fucks you into the squeaky mattress.

“O-Oh shit,” you breathe. Flip grunts and sighs above you, his hair falling into his face. He looks so handsome like this. “I love you.”

Flip kisses you, then nips at your bottom lip.

“I love you, too, babe,” Flip says. “Mm. S-So fuckin’ wet . . .”

You laugh softly, shakily.

“How romantic,” you sigh. “Ohhh, fuck, Flip . . .”

His thrusts are getting fast and sloppy and hard, and you clench your hands into fists where he holds you down. You lift your hips again, and when his cock hits you at a new angle, a better angle, you groan. It only encourages him. He loves knowing that he’s making his girl feel good. He loves knowing when you're enjoying yourself.

You lean up and kiss him again. Tree branches brush against the cabin angrily, hitting the windows and the wooden exterior, but you pay it no mind. A moan escapes you.

“Fuck,” you breathe. “Fuck–”

Pop!

Darkness.

You startle. Flip’s hips halt suddenly, and the only sound that is audible is the sound of breathing. You can’t even see Flip, who is mere inches in front of you. You cling to him in the dark, holding his hands.

“Flip?”

“I know.”

“Was it the wind?”

“Maybe, maybe not. I’ll have to check the fuse box.”

“Where’s that?”

“Out back.”

You weren’t scared when you arrived, not really anyway, but it’s totally dark outside now, and the idea of accompanying Flip out into the yard sends a chill over your nude body. Still, you know you should offer. You feel him pull out with a grunt, and the weight on the bed shifts as he gets off. You reach into the dark, but it's no use. You can’t see a damn thing. You let out a shaky breath as you listen to Flip rummaging through something – the bedside drawer, perhaps? – and before you know it, a dim light fills the bedroom. He’s found a flashlight.

“Toss me my stuff,” you tell him, pointing to your clothes on the ground. He does so, and you begin to get dressed as he sets the flashlight down and begins to do the same.

“You can stay here while I go outside,” Flip says. “I should be right back and we can finish this.”

“You don’t want me to come with?” you ask. The wind is persistent and harsh outside, and for a moment, you foolishly wonder if the windows are going to shatter from the force of it. Flip shakes his head.

“No, no. It’s bad out there.”

“Is there another flashlight?” you ask. Flip nods, then points to the other bedside table.

“Should be one in there.”

You crawl across the bed to open the drawer, and sure enough, there’s an old flashlight inside. You turn it on. It’s a bit brighter than Flip’s. You pull on your shirt, then your underwear, then wrap the blanket around yourself. When you look up again, Flip is fully dressed.

“Hurry back,” you say. Flip nods, then gives you a quick kiss as he pulls on his jacket.

“I will.”

He leaves. You listen to his footsteps recede until you can no longer hear them, and then you wait. The cabin is completely silent, almost eerily so. You look over at the window. Outside, you can see the snow and the faint shadow of the trees shaking from the wind. You pull the blanket tighter.

You hear it, then. A loud thud, a thud so loud that you swear you feel the walls shake. And then–

A yell.

You startle.

“Flip?!” you call into the darkness, holding your flashlight. No response comes, and you stand up quickly.

“Flip?” you call again, louder this time. Once again, no response. Your heart sinks, and a dreadful feeling washes over you.

What happened to him?

Tagging some besties: @mrs-gucci @safarigirlsp @babbushka

Dividers by saradika-graphics

rynwritesstuff, 2025

#rynwritesstuff #adcu #adam driver #flip zimmerman #flip zimmerman smut #flip zimmerman x reader #flip zimmerman x you #flip zimmerman fluff #blackkklansman fanfiction #blackkklansman adam driver #adam driver blackkklansman #blackkklansman #my writing #adam driver fanfiction #adam driver smut #horror #flip zimmerman horror

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rynwritesstuff · 25 days ago

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I promise I haven’t forgotten, work is just kicking my ass! Hoping to finish it for yall either today or tomorrow <3

Raise your hand if you want some creepy, wintery, snowy, dark cabin vibes with Flip Zimmerman

#rynwritesstuff #adcu #flip zimmerman #adam driver

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rynwritesstuff · 27 days ago

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Raise your hand if you want some creepy, wintery, snowy, dark cabin vibes with Flip Zimmerman

#🙋🏻‍♀️🙋🏻‍♀️🙋🏻‍♀️🙋🏻‍♀️#writing…plotting…#being extra evil today #rynwritesstuff #adcu #flip Zimmerman #Adam driver

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rynwritesstuff · 1 month ago

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THOSE EDITS THOUGH 🙌🏻🙌🏻

Nosferatu - Kylo Ren x Reader

Vampire!Kylo Ren x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, PIV sex, blood-sucking, brief mention of death, and a deep eternal bond between Reader and Kylo (duh)

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: You and a mysterious man - or creature - from beyond share a passionate, lustful evening together. (Heavily inspired by Nosferatu)

“Come to me.”

Tree branches scrape against the side of the house angrily, but you pay them no mind. He is here. Here.

Your Kylo Ren.

He is on you. You gasp, eyes wide with terror and arousal. Kylo Ren’s bare, cold body straddles yours, and when you try to move your hand, you realize that he has you in his grasp.

Your bottom lip trembles.

Life, powerful and strange, seems to find a way. You hope that when you die, it will not be frightening. You reach up and cling to Kylo, taking handfuls of his dark curls as he grunts above you.

“Please,” you sob. “Please . . .”

“My dearest love . . . I swear it.”

“I cannot,” he says. “Yet, I cannot be sated without you.”

Your chest. You look down. Yes, your nightgown is still torn open. Yes, your skin has been punctured by teeth that must have been hungry and ready.

Oh, yes, it was real.

Tagging a few vampire-loving friends: @safarigirlsp @babbushka @mrs-gucci

Divider by saradika-graphics

rynwritesstuff, 2025

#rynwritesstuff #adcu #kylo ren #vampire #kylo x reader #kylo ren smut #kylo ren x reader

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rynwritesstuff · 1 month ago

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Oh my gosh fun! These are so rare lol, thank you for the tag, Shannon!!

Fun fact, I'm the pickiest woman ever and only like two (2) men -- Adam Driver and Tom Blyth -- so I'm instead doing my top 9 characters played by those two men lmao :)

Kylo Ren (my number one man forever and always)

Billy The Kid

Flip Zimmerman

Coriolanus Snow

Charlie Barber

Pale

Clyde Logan

Paterson

Maurizio Gucci

Tagging my other besties! @mrs-gucci and @babbushka <3

Fictional Crush Tag Game! 💕

One of my lovely moots invited me to participate in a tag game that I couldn't possibly refuse! The rules were 4 crushes and tag 4 friends, but um.... I couldn't choose 4, so I chose 9! Here you go! Some of my fictional character crushes. None of them should be surprising.

Tagging some moots and friends in case they want to join in! @safarigirlsp @cillmequick @zablife @queenandkingofthedragons @deblou008 @eternalstrigoii

#i miss tag games so much #these used to be sooo fun #gotta get some picrew ones going soon #rynwritesstuff #not writing

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rynwritesstuff · 1 month ago

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Nosferatu - Kylo Ren x Reader

Vampire!Kylo Ren x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, PIV sex, blood-sucking, brief mention of death, and a deep eternal bond between Reader and Kylo (duh)

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: You and a mysterious man - or creature - from beyond share a passionate, lustful evening together. (Heavily inspired by Nosferatu)

“Come to me.”

Tree branches scrape against the side of the house angrily, but you pay them no mind. He is here. Here.

Your Kylo Ren.

He is on you. You gasp, eyes wide with terror and arousal. Kylo Ren’s bare, cold body straddles yours, and when you try to move your hand, you realize that he has you in his grasp.

Your bottom lip trembles.

Life, powerful and strange, seems to find a way. You hope that when you die, it will not be frightening. You reach up and cling to Kylo, taking handfuls of his dark curls as he grunts above you.

“Please,” you sob. “Please . . .”

“My dearest love . . . I swear it.”

“I cannot,” he says. “Yet, I cannot be sated without you.”

Your chest. You look down. Yes, your nightgown is still torn open. Yes, your skin has been punctured by teeth that must have been hungry and ready.

Oh, yes, it was real.

Tagging a few vampire-loving friends: @safarigirlsp @babbushka @mrs-gucci

Divider by saradika-graphics

rynwritesstuff, 2025

#reblogging for those who missed it!#kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #vampire!kylo ren #vampire kylo ren #vampire kylo ren x reader #nosferatu #nosferatu 2024 #nosferatu x reader #nosferatu movie #rynwritesstuff #my writing

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rynwritesstuff · 1 month ago

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Nosferatu - Kylo Ren x Reader

Vampire!Kylo Ren x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, PIV sex, blood-sucking, brief mention of death, and a deep eternal bond between Reader and Kylo (duh)

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: You and a mysterious man - or creature - from beyond share a passionate, lustful evening together. (Heavily inspired by Nosferatu)

“Come to me.”

Tree branches scrape against the side of the house angrily, but you pay them no mind. He is here. Here.

Your Kylo Ren.

He is on you. You gasp, eyes wide with terror and arousal. Kylo Ren’s bare, cold body straddles yours, and when you try to move your hand, you realize that he has you in his grasp.

Your bottom lip trembles.

Life, powerful and strange, seems to find a way. You hope that when you die, it will not be frightening. You reach up and cling to Kylo, taking handfuls of his dark curls as he grunts above you.

“Please,” you sob. “Please . . .”

“My dearest love . . . I swear it.”

“I cannot,” he says. “Yet, I cannot be sated without you.”

Your chest. You look down. Yes, your nightgown is still torn open. Yes, your skin has been punctured by teeth that must have been hungry and ready.

Oh, yes, it was real.

Tagging a few vampire-loving friends: @safarigirlsp @babbushka @mrs-gucci

Divider by saradika-graphics

rynwritesstuff, 2025

#rynwritesstuff #adcu #kylo ren #kylo x reader #kylo ren smut #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #nosferatu #nosferatu 2024 #nosferatu movie #nosferatu x reader #kylo ren fanfiction #kylo ren fic #kylo ren x reader fanfiction #my writing

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rynwritesstuff · 5 months ago

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I totally forgot to post this yesterday, but happy three years to this weird little blog lol. I know I don't post on here too often, but whenever I do, I'm always touched by the love I receive. I'm so, so lucky to have met so many wonderful friends on this funky website lmao. If you've ever read any of my stuff - thank you, I love you, I hope to be posting some shenanigans again soon <33

#ive been on tumblr since 2018 but this particular blog is 3 lol #the passage of time is weird!!!!!#i wanna write soon #maybe i'll do some fun sexy stuff for october #no promises lmao #rynwritesstuff #tumblr milestone #adcu #tom blyth

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rynwritesstuff · 5 months ago

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I would be happy to write something for A if they would like to hop on over to my blog and send me either an ask or a private message! Mental health is very important to me, and I think comfort fics can provide a bit of escape, even just for a few minutes! :) Thank you for thinking of me, Shannon! <3

Hi Shannon!

I am so sorry I am only just replying. I am not sure if you remember but I asked you a bit ago if you would take a request.

I have been... away for a while after... passing on didn't work.

Back then I wanted to request a comfort fic with any Adam character but well.

I didn't have any access to the internet and I am so sorry for rambling but I am sorry for not replying and you defently don't have to answer to this ask or anything because I just wanted to apologize.

Lots of love,

- A ✨️

Hi!

I’m sorry to hear you are going through a rough time! I hope things have gotten better and are looking up!

I really don’t think I’m the right person for this request. I don’t ever write comfort style fics or fluff sort of things. I write mainly horror, action, and adventure. So unless, you find murder and mayhem or dark humor a type of comfort fic, as I do, you probably won’t find my type of writing all that comforting lol.

These are the fics of mine that I think are closest to what you might be looking for. They’re all older and not really comfort sort of fics, but I think they’re closer to that than anything else I’ve written. They’re at least lighter hearted and don’t have any murder or mayhem. They’re more humor and sexy than anything else, but that’s as close as I ever get to fluff or comfort style stuff. Honestly, I haven’t even read much of that style so I’m kind of guessing with these and I might be totally off base.

Lover - Jacques

Joyeux Noel - Jacques

Knockout - Flip

Timeless - Flip

Disturbin’ the Peace - Flip

Boone County Brunch - Clyde

Winter Warmth - Clyde

You should check out my good friends @babbushka and @rynwritesstuff and their masterlists. I don’t think either of them are currently taking requests, but they each have great comfort fics and I’m sure they’d be happy to recommend their favorites to you! I hope you find something you enjoy and that you find comfort in! 💗

#rynwritesstuff

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rynwritesstuff · 6 months ago

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SHANNON!!!! This turned out INCREDIBLE!! I’m always so impressed with your beautiful descriptions. I saw everything in my mind so, so vividly. I especially loved the descriptions of the mountains and woods, it really set the vibe. This has such a creepy, eerie tone and I’m SO here for it! Thank you for doing such a beautiful job, you absolutely knocked it out of the park. I can’t say enough good things, you nailed all of this. I was hooked the entire time. Thank you, thank you, thank you 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Never Whistle in the Woods

Flip x OC

Word Count: 7.5k

Warnings: NSFW. Smut. Horror. Violence. Monster Action. Cryptids. Creepy things that happen in the woods. Backcountry flavor. Just a nice getaway with Flip. Those never go according to plan. I’m willing to continue this and write more if people like it!

Note: Going forward, I'm going to write characters from now on instead of Readers just because it's really annoying trying to switch back and forth for the non-fic writing I do. However, the female characters will be totally physically vague aside from having a name, so they can still easily be read as an insert by anyone who chooses to insert themselves.

Based on two requests I combined then butchered from @rynwritesstuff and @lumberjack00fantasies

AO3 Link

One of Flip’s favorite things was spending a secluded weekend out at his cabin, nestled in the forested mountains, away from the noise and mayhem of town. And away from people. Nothing cured a man’s love of humanity better than working with them. He enjoyed having a beer and a burger with his friends after work and he enjoyed taking his girl out to dinner. But he liked it a helluva lot more to take her with him into the mountains and not see or hear from another person for a couple days. Actually, it had become his favorite thing.

Knowing this, his girl, Kate, had booked him a nice getaway right up his alley. A solid week squirreled away in a truly remote cabin about as far away from humanity as he could get. It had taken a little online spelunking for her to land on the small town of Kitwanga, British Columbia, but its selling points of having a population of less than five-hundred, being a prime location for hunting and fishing, and being a true gateway to the wilderness with scarcely an outpost North between the little town and the Yukon, had sealed the deal. Besides, for the shrewd outdoorsman who wanted a less touristy experience with a friendlier populace for about a third of the money, British Columbia was a superior option to Alaska with all the same appeal.

Over-the-counter hunting licenses were available for all sorts of game that required a lottery draw or exorbitant fee in the States. Flip laughed when he read in the game regulations that it was strictly prohibited to shoot Bigfoot and that, should a sportsman encounter him, he was to be considered a protected species.

“How many big, hairy Canadians do you reckon had to get shot in the ass before they added that regulation?” He grinned at Kate, sitting with her legs curled under her on the seat of his rented truck as they bounced down the terrible excuse for a dirt road, sloshing in the mud and hitting potholes by the hundreds. Flip had twice hit his head on the bolt of the rifle secured in the headache rack above his head on the ceiling of the truck’s cab. He would have left the rifle inside their cabin, but they had been stringently warned not to take a step outside without it. Bears were a real threat and the animals here had little experience with humans, which meant little fear of them.

“Sounds like you better watch your own ass if you’re out wandering around in low light,” she teased back. “You’re big and lumbering enough to be mistaken for Bigfoot.”

“Yeah, but I’m a lot better lookin,’” he winked at her as he pulled into the only gas station in the tiny town. He filled up every day on their return in case the owner decided to take a day off. Electric pumps were a novelty that hadn’t reached this far north, it seemed. He was in a teasing mood, returning from a day of hiking and, as he put it, takin’ pictures of every goddamn thing in Canada.

“Depends on who you ask,” Kate laughed warmly. “I’ve waged a losing battle for quite a while trying to convince my friends you’re handsome. They tell me I’m blind or brainwashed.”

Five businesses in the tiny town were booming, frequented by most if not all of its citizens on a regular basis: the grocery store, post office, church, bar, and the gas station. Actually, Kitwanga boasted two bars. Flip figured this was a good insight as to the favorite pastime of the locals, especially since it doubled the churchgoers. There were no restaurants, but the bars had all the haute cuisine a man could want, so long as what he wanted was a cheeseburger or a sandwich or some chicken fried steak. However, one bar generously offered to cook anything a person brought in, provided the thing was somewhere between alive and kicking and starting to turn, and provided that gastronome paid in cash. Flip had already taken the owner and bartender up on this offer and handed over several trout he had caught that day to the owner’s wife and cook to fry for dinner. He had to admit it was some of the best fried fish he had ever had, and it paired wonderfully with the potent Moose Knuckle stout beer on tap.

The sign at the gas station read, Headed north? Need gas? It’s now or never. Two lonely gas pumps sat on a rectangle of cement on the otherwise muddy ground – the kind of pumps a person usually only saw on postcards from the fifties, with the rounded tops and numbers for cost and gallons that ticked by on a dial like an old one-armed-bandit style slot machine. A hand-scrawled sign in the window listed the hours vaguely as open from dawn ‘til dusk. An uninformed observer could easily mistake the business for being abandoned, or even condemned, a relic lingering in a ghost town. But for the metropolis of Kitwanga, it was a thriving business. There was even another vehicle at the pumps, a ’79 Ford truck with a lift and a winch on its bumper and a fat man in overalls leaning against the bed, pumping gas.

Flip stepped out of his truck and lifted the nozzle of the gas pump with a rusty squeal. He admired the view of his girl as she trotted into the gas station to forage for supplies. A brisk wind rustled his hair, tinged with chilled moisture. Above, low clouds in a grayscale palette churned in the sky. The snowy tops of the mountains were hidden inside the clouds and rain slashed across their facades in a grey haze. The rain hadn’t yet reached the foothills where the town and Flip’s rented cabin were nestled, but fog was creeping in from the base of the mountains and off a nearby river. Between the thunderclouds and the fog, it was as if the world was slowly closing in, like the vignette on a Bogart movie narrowing in on the dramatic eyes of a starlet.

Tilting his face up into the chilly air, Flip smiled. He loved rain and thunderstorms, and found peace in their chaos. Mainly, he loved holding his girl while a storm raged outside, or having a drink with her while they sat on the porch and felt the electricity in the air, and making love to her and feeling her shudder thunderously beneath him. His smile widened as he anticipated the evening ahead.

“Storm’s comin,’” the man at the pump said to Flip as he spat a string of brown tobacco into the mud. “You here for huntin’ or fishin?’”

“I’m mostly just here to take a break from everyday bullshit,” Flip replied in a friendly tone. “But I have tags for fishing and tags for bear and moose in case one happens to wander in front of me.”

“Storms are bad for fishin,’” the man said, nodding knowingly. “But they can be good for huntin.’ Storms bring the animals down from the big mountains. Moose especially like the mist and bears like to hunt in the rain when their prey can’t hear and see ‘em as good.”

“Good to know.” Flip smiled as he replaced the nozzle and turned to go inside and pay his tab.

“That your girl?” the man asked with a suggestive nod toward the gas station.

“That she is.” Flip turned to face the man, wondering if he’d end up getting in a fist fight while on vacation.

Not taking the hint, the man whistled appreciatively.

Flip decided the rube meant it as a compliment, so he simply agreed with a “Yup,” and went into the gas station. Kate had been suspiciously long inside anyway, something that nagged at the part of his mind that was always an officer on duty.

Inside the dingy little gas station, Flip saw his girl leaning against the counter engaged in an affable conversation with the attendant behind the counter, a squat older man with a heavily lined face and long silver hair in a braid hanging over his shoulder down to his gut. Flip wandered through the store, grabbing a few items that struck his fancy, some beef jerky, chips, candy bars, and other assorted junk food. At the back of the store, a menagerie of terrible taxidermy watched him with glassy eyes. Above the beverage coolers that lined the wall hung several deer and caribou and two enormous moose. A life-size grizzly bear stood on its hind feet in a corner, frozen mid-snarl, its head a solid three feet above Flip’s. He looked at its paws that were larger than his head and vicious curling claws, longer and thicker than his fingers. Facing such a beast, the gun he had in his truck now seemed very feeble. He grabbed a six-pack of stout beer bottles and an over-sized bottle of cheap wine and took his loot to the counter to pile it alongside Kate’s items.

“Have you heard about the wendigo?” Kate asked Flip when he joined her at the counter. The lilt in her voice told him she was highly amused. “My new friend was just telling me about it.”

“Yeah, wasn’t that the name of that stripper I arrested last year for blackmailing the mayor?” Flip smirked. “Wendy-Go?”

“He’s an idiot, I’m sorry,” Kate apologized to the man behind the counter, simultaneously elbowing Flip in the ribs. “Please ignore him and continue.”

The attendant gave Flip a sideways look and continued talking to Kate in a slow, backcountry drawl, “It is said the wendigo were people once, but now they are cursed. A wendigo is born during times of famine or in the harshest winter. When men are starving to death in the cold. When a man is weak, and he chooses the black path of cannibalism over death, butchering his fellows to save himself. When a man eats the flesh of another, he takes a curse upon himself. The wendigo lives in constant starvation, its body emaciated and rotting, only growing hungrier the more it eats. Its hunger can never be sated and it becomes a crazed beast with an insatiable bloodlust.”

“Is this insatiable bloodlust specific to tourists?” Flip asked sarcastically.

“Sometimes,” the man shrugged, unbothered. “It looks to punish those with greed in their hearts. Or, depending on which stories you believe, it seeks people who are like-minded to itself to build its own tribe.” He eyed Flip narrowly. “So, if a tourist is out greedily mining or wantonly slaughtering game, then yes, the wendigo will come for him.”

“Slaughtering is one of the few things I never do wantonly,” Flip deadpanned and slapped some cash down on the counter.

“You should be careful, son,” the old man told Flip seriously. “There are many ways a man can be greedy. He can be greedy for his woman and covetous of her.” Then he shrugged again. “But these are nothing more than old tales.”

“So, you don’t believe in the wendigo?” Kate asked.

“Oh, there’s no doubt in my mind he’s real. I’ve seen a wendigo twice. He has antlers taller than a caribou and wider than a moose, teeth like a wolf, and only skull sockets for eyes. But they glow. It’s the glow I remember most,” the man said genuinely as he counted out change. “I just don’t know if he was once a man, or something that was never human at all. Maybe the people who first came here created a myth to explain the monster rather than created a mythical monster themselves.”

“Maybe it’s a convenient way to scare pretty, gullible girls.” Flip smirked at Kate. Then he returned his attention to the cashier. “Let me guess, there’s something that wards off the wendigo? A silver crucifix or whatever? I bet we can buy it right here.”

“Nothing wards off the wendigo,” the man scoffed. “And he is far older than your crucifix. Why would a forest god bow to a stranger on a cross? Fire can stall him, maybe even frighten him, but it can only buy you time.” He looked outside the window at the building storm. “Not good weather for making a fire if you need it.”

“Damn shame.” Flip shook his head and began collecting their provisions in his arms. There were no courtesy bags.

“We do have flares,” the man suggested innocently. “They burn in any kind of weather, even underwater. All the bush pilots carry them.”

“Probably inside their emergency monster-hunting kit alongside the stakes for vampires and silver bullets for werewolves,” Flip laughed. “Go ahead. Load us up with some flares. Consider it a tip for a good campfire story.”

“It’s always smart to be prepared,” the man agreed as he placed two bundles of six red flares apiece on the counter and rang them up. They looked like bundles of dynamite.

Kate took the flares because Flip’s arms were already overfilled. She thanked the attendant and turned to leave.

The old man grabbed her by the elbow, stopping her and causing Flip’s hackles to rise. He spoke seriously, “Don’t whistle when you’re out in the woods. Whistling will summon the wendigo. Sometimes people hear whistling too, before it comes for them.”

“And these people who hear the whistling before it gets them,” Flip said as he edged his body between Kate and the counter and nudged her toward the exit. “They walk out of the woods to tell their story, huh?”

*******************************************************************************************

Their log cabin for the week was almost an hour’s drive from the gas station. It wasn’t that far as the crow flies, but the road was serpentine with switchbacks as it climbed the foot of the mountains and made even slower by soupy mud. It was set deep in the forest, surrounded by old-growth trees with trunks as thick as the truck’s bed. The sun set on their drive back. As it dipped below the mountainous horizon, the landscape glowed a shade of hazy purple only seen in the alpine. The clouds were the color of gunpowder and the rainy vapor was periwinkle. The spruce turned into an army of nearly black silhouettes with a light mist writhing among them as moisture rose from the damp ground as well as drizzled gently from the sky. The drifting mist made everything look as though it were moving. It gave the illusion of eldritch shapes in the trees creeping along the edges of vision and tree limbs grasping like clawed fingers as they swayed in the breeze.

Flip hit the brakes suddenly, slamming Kate forward in her seat and knocking her out of the reverie the gloaming forest had cast over her. A black shape froze in the muddy road a few yards ahead of them. Its eyes sparked cold white in the headlights and the fur on its back was raised aggressively.

“A wolf!” Flip said excitedly. “I’ve never seen one this close.”

The huge animal was coal black, its amber eyes reflecting white in the headlights in the way wolves eyes do. It stood frozen, staring down the vehicle, acting like the truck was a new creature intruding into the wolf’s territory. Something was wrong with its silhouette. Something with its mouth. It took several seconds for Kate to realize what it was. The wolf turned its head uncertainly, deciding whether it should continue on its way across the road or turn around from the metal beast with offense headlights. A dead rabbit dangled from its jaws, its legs swinging lifelessly and ears flopping limply. Its lifeless eyes glinted a dull red.

The simple reminder of nature’s brutality unnerved Kate unexpectedly and her hands felt suddenly cold. She gripped Flip’s hand, digging her nails into his palm with irrational harshness.

“Nature, red in tooth and claw,” he teased and grinned at her, but he laced his fingers through hers and squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Some redneck at the gas station told me that predators liked to hunt in the rain. Guess he was right.”

Night had veiled the forest with its velvety black cloak by the time they parked next to the porch of their cabin. It was silent enough to hear all the noises of the forest, from the chattering birds to the subtle rustling of deer browsing in the brush to moisture pattering lightly on the ground. A great horned owl as large as a man’s torso sat perched in a tree branch hanging near the roof of the cabin, its yellow eyes glittering like moonlight as it hooted an eerie cadence. It followed them with its yellow eyes as they unloaded the truck and carried their loot inside, its head turned almost fully backward like a creature possessed.

There was no light pollution and on a clear night, the moon and stars lit the forest bright enough to see easily. On a rainy night, moisture in the air brought out all the smells of the forest, the crisp spruce, the earthy soil, the embers in the fireplace. The cabin had no electric lines and was powered by a temperamental generator and a wood stove. A woodpile was stacked against the back of the cabin, complete with a large timber axe embedded in a nearby stump. Cell service was laughable. Flip loved everything about all of that. He was pleased it had running water, however, mainly because it would have greatly impacted his sex life if it didn’t.

Flip grilled steaks outside that night before the rain hit and they had dinner on the porch, counting lightning bolts. Then they tangled around each other in front of the fireplace, making love as the flames crackled and danced and the thunder rolled. Between dinner and fooling around several times, they finished the bottle of wine and opened another. Night fell early this far north in the autumn and the nights were long. The cabin was equipped with a tv, but it was one of those terrible old boxy things with a tiny screen and antennas. The antennas were only for show since there was no service. Instead, there was a vcr and a selection of campy nineties movies and some even campier porn. It seemed to defeat the purpose of being there to even bother with the tv. They hadn’t turned it on once.

“I’m wide awake,” Kate mused, propped up on Flip’s bare chest, looking down at him. “Let’s do something.”

“I have plenty of ideas,” Flip said huskily. “They’re all sure to wear you out.”

“We’ve tried your ideas. Several times. And I’m still far from worn out.” She smiled. “We’re here in a cabin, basically having a sleepover. Let’s play some sleepover games, the kind you play as idiot teenagers or in sororities in college.”

“I think girls have a lot wilder sleepovers than boys. And my experience with sororities is limited to sneaking in and out of them, so you’ll have to be more specific.” He ran his fingertips along her spine and kissed her throat, doing his best to interest her in another round.

“Later, you animal,” she laughed and shoved his face away while pushing herself up and off him. “You know what I mean. Sleepover games. Like Bloody Mary, or playing a Ouija Board, or the Midnight Game.”

“Packed a Ouija Board, did you?” he teased. “That would explain why your suitcase weighs fifty fuckin’ pounds.”

“I don’t think ghosts care whether or not you use a name brand.” She pinched his chest, making him flinch.

“What ghosts are you gonna find out here?” He squinted as he rubbed his chest. “The Donner Party?”

“Don’t you think they’d be fun to talk to? We can try Bloody Mary. I don’t think she has a centralized location,” she teased and pulled on her discarded pair of pajama pants and a hoodie. She threw Flip’s grey sweatpants at him. “Put that thing away or it might scare off the ghosts.”

Flip grumbled more protests under his breath, but he dressed in his sweats and a thermal henley. “How about we each stand in front of the bathroom mirror with the lights off. I’ll ask for Candyman. You ask for Bloody Mary. And we’ll have a Celebrity Death Match between vengeful ghosts?”

“You know the ghosts always get the cynics and the cocky shitheads first, right?” She shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest in a faux reprimand.

“Is that a rule?” Flip grinned. “I think the ghosts go for the morally corrupt woman who can’t keep her legs closed first. You’re in trouble, sugar.”

“There’s only one way to find out,” she said with finality.

“How about we play a fun game, like spin the bottle or truth or dare?” He winked at her. “I always pick dare. Do your worst.”

“I can’t imagine where a game of truth or dare with you would lead.” She rolled her eyes sarcastically.

Flip puffed his chest and stepped closer to her until their bodies were almost touching. “I have a better idea. You have some pretty big balls for a pretty little girl. Let’s see how big they really are.”

“Oh my god, Flip, if this is another ploy to explore that region further…” she laughed.

“Everything I do is some kinda means to that end.” He smirked. “But we’ll get to that later. Now, let’s go outside and whistle at the wendigo. There should be some of those sonsabitches around these parts.”

Flip went to the door and stepped into his muddy boots. He leaned against the doorframe, casually cocky, and raised an eyebrow at her in a challenge. “How ‘bout it, hot stuff?”

“I think we’d be better off trying to summon Bloody Mary than a wendigo,” Kate said hesitantly. “Plus, it will be cold out there.”

“I’ll keep you warm,” he teased. “How do you figure that trying to summon a ghost through our bathroom mirror would be safer than trying to call in a wendigo? At least a wendigo will stay outside. Besides, I know how psycho you’d get if I let another woman into our bedroom. Dead or alive. Don’t try to set me up, sweetheart.”

Rolling her eyes again, Kate pulled her coat on and slipped her phone into its pocket, feeling the bundle of flares she had absently pocketed at the gas station. There was no service, but its flashlight might come in handy outside. Grinning, Flip picked up the rifle that was leaning against the doorframe and slung it over his shoulder. Cocky though he was, he took the advice serious about the threat of bears and always having a gun on him out here in the wilderness. He held the door open for Kate and ushered her outside.

The air was thick with humidity but the rain had stopped for the moment, leaving the moisture on the air to chill their skin and turn their breath into ghostly thick fog. The porch was covered in slushy frost as bright as diamonds. Their boot prints left skeletal black outlines on the otherwise pristine frosty canvas as they descended the steps and walked into the forest that awaited them only yards away.

Flip offered Kate his arm and led her into the trees. The old growth forest felt like being inside a fairytale, surrounded by enormous tree trunks and relatively open ground at their bases. The roots of those great trees were so thirsty, they leeched most of the nutrients and left little for brush and scrub to encroach. After the rain, the ground was muddy and slick, with frost growing denser by the minute as the temperature dropped through the night.

Filling his lungs, Flip began whistling a terribly off-key tune as he walked through the woods. His casual swagger was the same as if he were taking his girl out for a stroll in the park. Kate winced when he struck a particularly loathsome note, and squinted her eyes at him, “What in the hell are you whistling?”

“Season of the Witch,” he replied, acting offended. “I thought you’d appreciate it.”

“I like the song, I don’t appreciate what you’re doing to it,” she laughed. “We’re not going to find any wendigo if you scare them all off with that horrendous noise.”

“I don’t hear you doing any better,” he scoffed.

Mainly in an attempt to save her ears from his screeching, Kate started whistling. She teased Flip first with her best wolf whistle. Smells were heightened in the damp air but sounds were muffled. In the silence of the forest, the whistle sounded unnaturally loud. Now that Flip wasn’t making noise himself, he found himself focusing more on his surroundings. He didn’t feel right, something he couldn’t put his finger on tugged at the back of his mind. It wasn’t just that noises were muffled by the dampness in the air, but something else that he found indefinable in that moment. He told himself it was just the product of being in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by unfamiliar vegetation that he found unsettling. The size of trees still seemed monstrous to him, and the smell of spruce instead of the familiar smell of pine must have been unsettling to his subconscious. And it probably didn’t help that he had cultivated a little buzz drinking wine for the past few hours.

A light gust of wind blew into his face and all of his senses sparked with alarm. He froze in place, seizing Kate’s arm to silence her whistling. The unmistakable scent of a wet animal hit his nose with the force of a slap in the face. Quickly evaluating his surroundings, he unslung the rifle from his shoulder and held it across his chest in high port. It would take him less than a second to aim and fire. But the forest was close around them, visibility limited to fifteen feet or so in any direction. If the animal was a predator, a bear or a mountain lion, it could cover that distance in less than a heartbeat if it wanted. He could still see the faint glow of the cabin’s lights. They hadn’t gone far, but there was no chance of outrunning an animal back to safety.

A heavy footfall sounded inside the trees ahead of them, muffled on the wet ground but distinctive. Straining his ears, Flip thought he heard a branch being brushed aside by something passing by it. Whatever it was, it was very close ahead of them. Flip’s thoughts raced, less cohesive and more a rush of images of nightmare scenarios that he weighed in an instant. He could hide himself and Kate behind one of the huge tree trunks and hope the animal passed them by. But whatever it was had to already know of their presence. If his feeble senses could hear and smell the animal, it had no doubt smelled and heard him much sooner. In that case, he decided it was best to hold his ground and meet whatever it was head on, straight down the barrel of his rifle. That would give them the best chance. Flip would have to make his shot count, and he’d probably only get one, but it was a decent chance.

Stepping in front of Kate, Flip raised his rifle to his shoulder. He kept both eyes open, not limiting his focus to only what was past the end of his barrel, but trying to expand his senses to the full spectrum of forest in front of him. He heard a heavy breath, something panting. Closer now. Flip clicked off the safety and tightened his finger on the trigger. The hardest skill for a hunter to learn, especially when hunting game that hunted him back, is to wait long enough for a good shot but not so long as to let it get him. He wouldn’t waste his shot until he saw his target clearly and could be sure of putting the bullet where it would matter most. His hold on the gun was rock steady, his breath stalled, his eyes unblinking.

The panting grew in volume until it seemed to drum in his ears. Odd for a stalking predator. Before Flip could reconcile that, a bear burst from the trees only feet in front of him. A huge grizzly bear lumbering toward him on all fours, the top of its humped shoulders taller than Flip’s head. His finger tensed, less than a millimeter of movement was required to fire. But something was off with the bear. It was panting heavily, saliva dripping from its open mouth and fog snorting in bursts from its wet nose. The bear stopped short at the sight of the man with a gun right in front of it, clearly surprised, very unlike a predator who had been stalking the man. Flip hesitated. If he didn’t kill the bear immediately with one shot – drop it right in its tracks – it would maul them both before it died. If the bear wasn’t hunting him, it was a foolish risk to take. Grizzlies were not commonly hunting predators; they were scavengers and fishers. Most people who were mauled by grizzlies had either gotten between a mother and her cubs or a bear and its food, or they had startled it like waking a grumpy old man.

Sniffing the air, the bear looked at Flip. He was so close he could see the small particles of moisture the bear blew out of its nose along with steam when it snorted. The bear’s little round ears flicked, one turning backward to listen behind it. The bear’s eyes were wide, showing white, in a nervous gesture that was common to both man and beast. The bear looked back over its shoulder and then broke into a gallop. Flip’s rational mind told him to shoot, but his instinct prevented him. The bear altered course enough to avoid running straight into Flip. It paid him no further mind at all, instead running right by him. Flip followed it with the barrel of his rifle as it passed by him so close that a string of white saliva landed on the rifle’s blue-black barrel.

Turning around about face, Flip followed the bear with his sights until it was well past them and showed no signs of turning back around. He looked back toward the place the bear had come from, still holding the rifle to his shoulder. He didn’t look at Kate when he told her, “Walk back to the cabin. Don’t run, but go now.”

“You want me to follow the bear?” she hissed. “He ran toward the cabin. I don’t want to get near him again.”

“Follow the bear,” Flip gritted. “If a bear’s runnin’ from something, we’d best do the same. He didn’t care about us anyway. Now, move.”

Uncertainly, Kate turned and retreated toward the cabin. They hadn’t gone that far, after all. Flip backed after her, keeping his rifle aimed into the black forest from which the bear had run. A shrill scream splintered the silence, starker than a bolt of lightning. Kate shuddered and Flip ducked, hunching his shoulders like he had taken a punch. The scream shrilled for several seconds, wavering on a blood-curdling note before trailing away. It echoed around them, seeming to float on the mist.

“That’s just an elk bugling,” Flip said, trying to calm Kate. Maybe it was in fact an elk, a sickly, ravenous elk. “Keep moving, slowly.”

“I’ve never heard an elk that sounded like that.” Kate shivered against more than the chilled air. “This is starting to scare the hell out of me.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take your mind off of it when we get back,” Flip tried to joke but he couldn’t muster the required lewdness, his mouth was too dry.

The howling scream burst again through the forest. It was something like an elk bugle, but more howling and rasping, with a sort of growling mingled in at the end as it trailed away. It was closer now. Flip felt as much as heard it reverberate inside his skull.

“Whatever that is, it’s not an elk.” Kate had her arms wrapped around her body, trying to prevent herself from being overtaken by tremors.

“Sure, it is,” Flip lied. “They probably just grow ‘em bigger up here.”

Kate blew out a shuddering breath, fighting to keep her steps slow and steady.

“Pick up the pace a little, darlin,’” Flip rasped.

“You said not to run,” Kate hissed.

“I didn’t say to crawl either!” Flip gritted. “This is one hell of a time for you to start listening to me.”

Instead of moving faster, Kate stopped short. So suddenly, Flip bumped into her as he walked backward. A branch snapped somewhere inside the forest. It was strangely loud. Flip realized then that the snap only sounded harsh because the forest had gone utterly silent. The hundreds of small noises from birds and insects were gone. Even the drops of water falling from tree branches seemed to have stopped. The forest felt like a living thing around them, possessed of a presence all its own. Now that presence was altered into something darker and ominous.

“What the hell are you doing?” Flip’s voice had dropped to a whisper without his conscious approval. “I said keep moving. We’re not far from the cabin.”

“Turn around.” Kate’s voice trembled.

Dropping the rifle for a moment, Flip looked back over his shoulder. His nerves must be playing tricks on his eyes. He turned fully around, holding the rifle at high port across his chest. The view of the forest that met him was foreign. It wasn’t the same forest they had walked through only minutes before. The trees were more skeletal, their grasping branches more cloying. Moss hung from the branches like the lank hair of a corpse, and the ground was spongy underfoot, as if the forest was rotting around them. Even the air smelled stale and moldy. Thunder boomed overhead and lightning illuminated the forest in patches like a stop-motion movie. Most unsettling of all, the comforting glow of the cabin lights that could be seen through the trees had vanished or been snuffed out.

“What the fuck…” Flip’s voice trailed away as he took in the strangeness of their surroundings. A burst of lightning brought the forest into focus for a gleaming second. Bizarre shapes hung in the trees like a macabre abomination of Christmas tree ornaments, figures made from twigs lashed together with sinew to form pentagrams and humanoid shapes and horned beings. Flip swallowed thickly and ignored them. “We couldn’t have gotten turned around so fast.”

“We didn’t.” Kate looked around frantically. “I could see the cabin lights, then I heard that horrible bugle and looked around for it. And then the lights were gone. They couldn’t have all gone out, not all at once.”

“Lightning must have struck the cabin,” Flip lied again. Nothing about the forest looked familiar to him now and everything about it felt wrong. “Must have shorted out the lights.” There was no reason to scare Kate more than she already was. “It’s alright, we don’t need lights for what I have in mind when we get back.”

The scent of wet dog hit Flip again on a gust of wind, yanking his attention in the direction of the odor. He saw a heap of dark fur, glistening from the spotty rain and aimed his rifle at the creature. It didn’t move. Steam rose from the furry mass. Flip noted another smell on the air, something with a coppery aftertaste that coated the roof of his mouth. He edged forward, looking at the steaming animal down the barrel of his rifle, his finger resting on the trigger, ready to fire. He recognized the beast when another bolt of lightning revealed the horror to him.

“Don’t look,” he said to Kate, but it was too late. She clasped a hand over her mouth to keep her scream from escaping.

The huge grizzly bear they had encountered minutes before lay on its side in a broken heap of matted fur. Steam spiraled into the air from its torn-open belly, its entrails protruding from the mangled tissue like uncooked sausage. The gaping wound was only minutes old. The bear’s body temperature would plummet rapidly in the frigid air and it was still warm now. Even as they stared, the steam began to abate. Hanging in the branches of the tree nearest the bear carcass were several more bizarre figures crafted from twigs.

The screeching growling bugle erupted again, very close this time. Flip nudged Kate ahead, keeping his rifle at the ready, but not knowing where to aim it.

“Which way do we go?” Her breath came in shuddering puffs of fog.

“I don’t know,” Flip admitted. “Away from here.”

Amid a stand of spruce to his side, bare tree branches swayed in the wind, their spiky fingers waving ominously. Flip hadn’t noticed the wind pick up. Looking at the oddly swaying branches, he realized there was no wind. The air had gone as still as the inside of a crypt. The strange branches were bare, glistening wet and pointed upward, still swaying.

A flash of lightning illuminated the creature and Flip flinched so hard he almost fired accidentally.

What he had taken for bare branches was a set of enormous antlers, shaped somewhere between a moose and a caribou and as large as an Irish elk, with wide paddles and long spiked tines spurting out non-typically like broken fingers. It had a dark mane like an elk with a tawny, painfully emaciated body. Flat tines of several spinal processes protruded through the hide at the top of its high withers and one hip bone showed through the skin. But its head was the most terrible of all. Its face was in an advanced stage of rot, dregs of sagging flesh barely clinging to the skull. White skull bone gleamed in exposed patches, and its sharp, lupine teeth were long in the exposed jawbone and ragged. Its nasal cavity was bare, the fleshy nose rotten away, leaving only the pointed bones and a black hollow. It had no eyes that Flip could see, but there was an evil gleam inside its sockets, like embers inside a pile of ash. The monster shook its head, slinging water from its great spiked antlers. Then it leveled its head like a bull about to charge and fixed its glowing eyes on Flip.

“Shoot it,” Kate whispered, her eyes wide with terror.

“I don’t think it’ll do any good.” Flip looked down the barrel at the rotting flesh covering the walking skeleton and white bone peeking from beneath. The monster’s glowing eyes were not something found among the living. Without lowering his rifle, he looked at Kate and met her eyes. “It’ll come for me first. I’ll make sure of that, and I’ll stall it as much as I can. Get to the truck, darlin.’ The keys are in it. Run like hell.”

“I’m not leaving you!” she said vehemently, her voice losing some fervor when the creature took an ominous step closer, its enormous antlers swaying with its gait.

She felt for her phone, hoping there might be service. Not that another human could even reach them in less than an hour, making any idea of help hopeless. Her hand closed around the lumpy bundle of flares. With an excited breath, she freed a flare from the bundle and fumbled with lighting it.

The monster bugled angrily, a sound so shrill it felt like it grated along their spines. It rushed toward them through the trees, its teeth bared and eyes aflame. Flip fired, sending a bullet right between those glowing eyes. He even saw the bullet strike and tear away more rotting flesh, leaving a pearly white hole in the skull. It didn’t slow the monster or even make it flinch. He bolted another round into the chamber on instinct, staring down the barrel at the demonic eyes that were fixed upon him.

Kate popped the cap off the flare. The cap had an abrasive tip like a matchhead and she struck it to the end of the flare, holding it high as it burst to life. With their eyes accustomed to the darkness, the flare seemed as bright as sunlight, searing black pulsing spots into their vision. The monster squealed again, shaking its head with pain or irritation. Its antlers caught in the tree branches, stalling its advance. The flare burned and popped, hot on Kate’s face even at arm’s length and blindingly bright.

The landscape around them crackled and wavered, like a tv signal trying to come in through static. The trees looked less skeletal and more normal, like they had been before, and the strange twig figures vanished. The cabin lights glowed through the trees, yellow and warm, not far from them.

“It’s in our heads!” Kate shouted. “It’s making us hallucinate, but I can see the cabin and the truck now.”

“The light bothers it,” Flip said as he reached into her coat pocket, grabbing three flares and leaving her the remaining two. The monster wrenched its antlers free of the branches where it was tangled and lurched toward them in a shambling gait.

Shouldering his rifle that was of no more use than a club against the monster, Flip bit the cap off a flare with his teeth and struck the head. He rammed the end into the muddy ground at his feet, leaving the tip burning. The beast reared, shrieking with rage and clawing the air with its cloven hooves as Flip backed away. He could see the glow of the cabin lights now too. It was hard to resist the urge to run to the light.

Flip lit the next flare. Kate was a few yards ahead of him, gaining ground toward the truck. It would take whoever reached it first a minute to start it. Flip had a good throwing arm and even better aim. The monster lunged at him, rage overriding whatever else had been driving it to pursue them so far. Flip drew back his arm, took a second to aim at the gaping black jaws, and threw the lit flare as hard as he could. The flaming tip cartwheeled through the air like a throwing knife before the fiery head struck the monster right where its nose should have been. But it had no nose, its nasal cavity was exposed in its partially skeletal head. Robin Hood could not have struck a finer bullseye. The flaming tip sank deep into the nasal cavity, embedding itself there.

Screaming terribly, the wendigo shook its head and stomped its hooves, rearing and bucking like a horse that had stepped on a hornet’s nest. It couldn’t shake the flare free from its skull. The flames spread, shooting out through holes in the rancid flesh of its cheeks and jaws. It looked as though it breathed fire when it screeched, belching flare fumes and flames out of its hacking mouth.

“We’re not gonna get a better chance than this!” Flip roared at Kate as he burst into a run toward her. She had a few paces head start on him and sprinted ahead toward the truck.

Kate reached the truck first, yanking the driver’s door open and jumping inside. Flip could bitch about her driving all he wanted, but she dared not spare the extra second or two for him to take the wheel. Not with the eldritch monster galloping toward them, bugling terribly, flames bellowing from its mouth and nose. Flip had his one remaining flare in hand when he reached the truck. The engine roared to life.

Instead of joining Kate inside the cab, Flip vaulted into the truck bed and shouted for her to drive. Kate slammed the truck into gear, throwing Flip against the side of the bed. Regaining his balance, he dropped to his knees and planted his back against the rear window, making himself as steady as he could. Kate was speeding as fast as she dared down the muddy, winding road, and it wasn’t fast enough. The wendigo pursued them, galloping after the truck and gaining ground. Striking the tip of his flare, Flip held the flaming tip aloft, casting the entire truck in a halo of searing red fire. The wendigo allowed more distance between them, smart enough to keep outside of throwing range of another flare.

Kate took a slippery curve too fast, the truck fishtailing as she recovered control, slinging Flip from one side of the bed to the other. The flare was nearly whipped from his hand, but he clenched his fist tight to keep his hold. Gritting his teeth, he composed himself, using all his strength to keep his balance and keep his arm held high. He couldn’t afford to lose a flare. They only had three flares left, and it was going to take every last burning second of each one to reach town.

*******************************************************************************************

Tagging some buddies!

@babbushka @in-silks-and-flesh-and-leather @mrs-gucci @mrszimmerman24 @iamburdened @gabesprincess @rynwritesstuff @candycanes19 @caillea @cas-backwards-tie @queeniebee @mythrielofsolitude @ghoulian13 @icarusinthesea @reyloaddict55 @reylokisses @heartlight-starlight @richbrittstein @thepalaceofmelanie @reveluving @vedavan @queen-of-elves @srorgana1 @kyloremus @lumberjack00fantasies

#shannon has done it again!!!#not my writing #adcu

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