#wendigo stone

[penheadie]

stone as a wendigo since halloweens coming for example maybe antlers,sharp teeth,and pointed ears,and a skeletal tail in a human wendigo form or you can draw him as a regular wendigo whatever works for you.I’m a big stone fan and I think this would be awesome considering hes already emo a wendigo would suit him.

Heck yeah. Spooky month.

[butterfliesandwendigos]

𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡ꗃ⋆࣪. BEFORE PT.2 — Josh Washington

SUMMARY — after you discover josh mid-psycho prank, he prevents you from watching his wrongdoings. he takes you, passed out and unconscious, to a secluded cabin on the mountain, convinced he’s keeping you away from his plan. the wendigos strike, leaving you trapped until rescue arrives. you reunite, sparking intense feelings between you two.

W/C — 8.9k.

NOTES — lots of until dawn lore, slow-buildup, set in both present and post until dawn, themes of drugging, mania, filthy smut (i think this one might be more smutty than the first😏).

PART ONE | PART TWO

You stir in the warmth of Josh’s lodge bedroom, the lingering scent of cedar and woodsmoke wrapping around you like a blanket. The walls are adorned with framed photos, capturing memories of happier times before tragedy cast a long shadow over the Washington family’s lives. A fire crackles softly, one that you don’t remember lighting, it's flickering flames lulling you more profoundly into sleep, away from the tension that hung in the lodge since the fateful night the group reunited.

But all that changes with a piercing scream.

You bolt upright, heart racing as the echoes of panic fill the air. Your friends—you recognise their voices even through the disorienting haze of sleep. Swinging your legs off the bed, you feel the chill of the wooden floor against your bare feet. Anxiety coils in your stomach as you pull on your sweater and leggings, the familiar scent of Josh lingering in the fabric.

“Josh?” you call softly, but the room is silent, except for the shouts. With a sinking feeling, you reach the door, the foreboding weight pressing down on you.

The lodge is dark, with shadows looming as you navigate through the narrow hallway. Each scream grows louder as you descend the staircase, your breath quickening with each step. You can feel the oppressive atmosphere thickening around you, almost suffocating.

You reach the bottom of the stairs and hesitate, the basement door slightly ajar. The screams have ceased, replaced by an eerie silence that makes your skin crawl. Mustering your courage, you open the door and descend into the dimly lit basement.

The air is cold and heavy, suffocating in tension, wrapping around you like a vice and making your stomach churn. Flickering lights cast chaotic shadows against the stone walls, and as you step deeper into the space, you spot a figure standing in the centre—a silhouette you recognise all too well. It’s Josh and he’s wearing… dirty, old overalls?

“Josh!” you call out, your voice echoing off the walls. But something is dreadfully off. He doesn’t turn, doesn’t acknowledge your presence. He stands motionless, his back to you, staring at something unseen, his posture rigid and unyielding.

“Y/N,” he finally speaks, his voice low and unsettlingly calm, as if the warmth of human connection has slipped away. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“What’s going on?” you ask, unease creeping into your voice. “Where are the others? I heard screaming.”

He turns slowly, and you recoil at the emptiness in his eyes as if he’s lost somewhere far beyond reach. “You don’t need to worry your pretty little head. I’m not letting you be a part of this. You shouldn’t even be here; you should be upstairs sleeping! I even set a fire for you to help you sleep better.”

“Well, it’s kind of hard to sleep when I hear people screaming bloody murder,” you shoot back, your pulse quickening, fear gnawing at your insides. “What the hell is going on?”

“Nothing! Nothing is going on! Would you drop it already?” he snaps, his frustration boiling over, a wildness flickering in his eyes, sending chills racing down your spine.

“Why are you acting like this?!” you demand, stepping closer, your anger igniting the air between you. You catch sight of his hands trembling, fingers twitching as if desperately trying to suppress something dangerous.

“Because I’ve done something terrible and sadistic, and none of the others are ever going to have anything to do with me again! That’s why you cannot be a part of this!” he exclaims, his voice rising, an unsettling mania building in his frightening and heartbreaking tone.

“What did you do, Josh?” you ask, your heart pounding as fear and anger collide, a storm within you.

“Please, just go upstairs and stop asking questions,” he pleads, his voice strained, panic threading through his words, twisting your stomach in knots.

“Josh, this is insane! You can’t just—” you start, but he interrupts, urgency threading through his tone.

“No! You don’t understand! I can’t let you see this,” he insists, his eyes darting around the room as if haunted by unseen phantoms. “It won’t be pretty, and I don’t want you to get caught up in it. I can’t lose you too. Please, you have to go back upstairs.”

Your heart drops as you approach him cautiously, studying how his shoulders are tense, poised on the brink of collapse. “Josh, please, talk to me,” you plead, stepping closer. “We can figure this out together.”

In a sudden, frantic motion, Josh steps back, shaking his head vehemently, a manic energy radiating from him that makes you instinctively recoil. “I don’t need your help! I don’t need anyone!”

You grab his arm, your grip firm as you prevent him from retreating. “Are you serious? Was this trip your way of getting into my pants? Because you sure find it easy to drop me straight after sleeping with me!”

His eyes widen in shock, the hurt flashing across his face, but you’re too consumed by anger to back down. “You think this is easy for me?” he retorts, his voice trembling. “I’m trying to protect you from this mess!”

“By shutting me out?” you fire back, your heart racing with fear and fury. “By walking away? That’s not protection; it’s selfishness.”

He stares at you, his expression shifting from defiance to despair. “Y/N, please…” His voice cracks, and for a brief moment, you catch a glimpse of the boy you fell for—the one who would never turn away from you, no matter the circumstances.

“You don’t know what they did,” he murmurs, a haunting smile ghosting across his lips. “You weren’t there. They took everything from me.”

Conflict swirls in his gaze, and for a heartbeat, the fight within him begins to waver. “I don’t want you to see me like this,” he finally admits, his voice breaking under the weight of his anguish.

He hesitates, and you see the pain etched deep in his expression. “I’m giving them what they deserve,” he replies, the weight of his words heavy and dark. “They took everything from me, and I won’t let them take you away too. Please, go back upstairs.”

The moment's intensity hangs between you like a taut wire, the darkness closing in. You stare at Josh, grappling with the dichotomy of the man you love and the stranger he’s become. “What do you mean, ‘giving them what they deserve’? Who are you talking about?”

He clenches his jaw, refusing to answer, the inner turmoil evident in his strained features. You step closer, desperate to bridge the chasm between you. “Josh, you can’t just shut me out like this. I’m not afraid of you. I’m afraid of losing you.”

The flickering light casts eerie shadows across his face, and in that moment, you see the pain that’s etched into his features. “You don’t understand,” he whispers, voices low and raw. “You can’t understand what they did. It’s not just about me anymore. I have to finish this.”

“Finish what?” you press, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “What’s going on down here? If you’re in danger, I want to help you. We can face it together.”

He shakes his head violently, tears brimming in his eyes, an unsettling fear radiating from him. “You think it’s that simple? They’re not just people; they’re monsters. They took everything from me, and now it’s my turn to make them pay. I won’t let you be a part of this. You deserve better.”

“I don’t care about what I deserve! I care about you, Josh!” Your voice rises, echoing off the cold stone walls, desperation lacing your words. “Don’t push me away. If you think isolating yourself will keep me safe, you’re mistaken. It’ll only push me further away.”

The tension in his shoulders eases for a moment, and you see a flicker of hope in his eyes. “Y/N…” he starts, but then he falters, the wall around him hardening again. “I can’t let you get involved in this. You don’t know what I’m capable of. You don’t know what they’re capable of.”

You take a deep breath, grounding yourself in the gravity of the situation. “Then let me help you figure it out. You can’t do this alone, Josh. You’re not alone anymore.”

He turns his back to you again, and your heart sinks, a wave of despair crashing over you. You want to scream, shake, and make him see reason, but instead, you take a step back, trying to breathe through the rising panic. “Josh, please, I’m begging you. Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on. If this is about revenge, then it’s going to consume you. It’s not worth it.”

His silence is deafening, the shadows creeping closer, wrapping around him like a noose. You inch forward again, unwilling to let the distance grow. “What did they take from you?” you ask gently, your voice barely above a whisper, hoping to pierce the dark veil enveloping him.

He hesitates, and you see the battle raging in his mind. “They took… they took my sisters,” he finally admits, his voice cracking under the strain. “They took my family, and I wasn’t there to protect them.”

Your heart aches for him, the depth of his pain crashing over you like a tidal wave. “I’m so sorry, Josh,” you murmur, tears stinging your eyes. “But this isn’t the way to make it right. This won’t bring them back.”

“I don’t want them back,” he snaps, but the anger is undercut with sorrow, the edges fraying. “I just want them to pay for what they did. I want to feel something—anything but this empty rage inside me.”

You take another step closer, heart racing as you reach out, your hand brushing against his arm. “Then let me help you. Don’t let this rage destroy you. You’re stronger than this. We can find another way to honour their memory.”

He turns to face you, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, the turmoil within him still raging but beginning to soften. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispers, vulnerability etching across his features, deepening the ache in your heart.

“You won’t,” you promise, stepping closer, your voice resolute. “We’ll find a way through this. Together.”

For a heartbeat, it feels like the walls around him might crumble, but then he pulls away, shaking his head. “No, I can’t risk it. I won’t let you be part of this darkness.”

You take a deep breath, the cold air filling your lungs as you try to steady yourself against the gravity of it all. “Then what? You’ll just shut me out? You’ll go through this alone?”

For a heartbeat, it feels like the walls around him might crumble, but then he jerks away, shaking his head with wild desperation. “No, I can’t risk it. I won’t let you be part of this darkness.”

You take a deep breath, the cold air filling your lungs as dread settles in your chest. “Then what? You’ll just shut me out? You’ll go through this alone?”

His eyes are wild, flickering with an inner conflict that twists your gut. “I don’t know how to just… let it go.”

“Then don’t let it go alone,” you plead, reaching out to cup his face in your trembling hands, your heart racing in the thick, oppressive air. “You can’t do this alone, Josh. We can face it together. You don’t have to carry this weight by yourself. Let me be with you.”

The tension in his frame wavers for a moment, and you catch a glimpse of hope igniting in his gaze. “I wish I could just go back to being normal… to being happy,” he murmurs, his voice tinged with regret and a hint of mania.

“Then let’s work on that together,” you urge, your hand still on his face, your fingers brushing against the stubble of his jaw. “You don’t have to lose yourself in this darkness. Let me help you find your way back.”

The silence stretches between you like a taut wire, the world's weight pressing down. As you stand there, staring into his eyes, you see the flicker of a fragile spark amidst the storm of his despair.

“Okay,” he finally says, his voice breaking slightly, urgency threading through his words. “But you have to promise me one thing.”

“Anything,” you reply, heart pounding.

“Promise me you won’t give up on me, no matter how far I fall,” he whispers, the vulnerability in his eyes cutting straight through to your heart, the weight of his desperation almost palpable.

“I promise,” you say, tears welling up. “We’ll get through this together, Josh. I won’t let you go.”

He nods, a single tear escaping down his cheek, but the spark of hope quickly dims. “I’m scared,” he admits, his voice trembling, the manic edge returning, his eyes darting around as if haunted by unseen horrors.

“I know,” you reply softly, wiping the tear away with your thumb. “But we’ll face that fear together. You don’t have to do this alone anymore.”

The tension crackles in the air, thick and charged, as Josh’s vulnerability battles with something darker within him—your heart races as you stare into his conflicted eyes, desperate to bridge the chasm between you. Without thinking, you close the gap, your breath mingling with his.

At that moment, something shifts within Josh. He hesitates, then, without warning, he pulls you into his arms, enveloping you in warmth and safety. The weight of the world slips away as you lean into him, seeking solace in the embrace.

But then you sense the urgency in his movements, the frantic energy surging beneath the surface. The outside world fades, and all you can feel is the moment's intensity. Without even realising it, your lips find his. The kiss is tentative at first, exploring the vulnerability you both share. But as the heat between you builds, it transforms into something urgent and desperate—a frantic plea for connection that speaks to the chaos swirling around you.

You melt against him, feeling him respond as he deepens the kiss, pouring everything he thinks into that moment. His lips are warm and inviting, igniting a fire inside you, and you lose yourself in him. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as if trying to erase the distance between you.

But just as abruptly, he pulls away, breathless, his forehead resting against yours. “Y/N,” he whispers, his eyes filled with a manic intensity that makes your heart race. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you in now. Not with this. After is a different story; I’ll tell you everything.”

The chill of his words slices through you, and reality crashes back in. “Josh—”

Before you can finish, he reaches into his pocket, confusion turning to dread as you see him pull out a small cloth. Your stomach drops, panic surging through you like icy water.

“Josh, what are you doing?” you ask, your voice shaking, a sense of dread coiling tightly around your chest.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, anguish etched across his face, his eyes wide and frantic. “I have to protect you.”

Without warning, he lunges forward, pressing the cloth against your mouth and nose. Instinctively, you struggle, fear coursing through your veins as the suffocating scent of chloroform envelops you. You claw at his hands, desperation surging, but your body betrays you as darkness seeps into your vision.

“Josh, no!” you gasp, but your words dissolve into silence, swallowed by the overwhelming haze. The frantic look in his eyes pierces through the fog, revealing the chaos of his spiralling mind.

“Just for a moment,” he murmurs, his voice distant and strained, tinged with a frantic urgency that sets your heart racing. “Don’t be scared; I’ll take care of you. I’ll make it right, I promise. I need time—just a little time to fix this.”

And then, with a final, shuddering breath, everything fades to black.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

The soft crackle of firewood breaks through the heavy silence, pulling you from unconsciousness. Your eyelids flutter open, and it takes a moment for your surroundings to come into focus. The flickering flames dimly lit the small cabin, casting dancing shadows on the wooden walls. You sit up, disoriented, your muscles stiff and aching as you take in the cozy but foreign space.

You glance down to find yourself wrapped in a thick blanket, and underneath it, you’re dressed in an oversized jacket that smells faintly of Josh—woodsy and warm. It swallows you whole, the weight of it grounding you as you scan the room.

An array of snacks is laid out on a small table nearby: bags of chips, a few granola bars, and a thermos of hot cocoa, steam rising in lazy curls. The sight is strangely comforting but does little to quell the unease gnawing at your insides. Where are you? What happened?

As your mind clears, you push the blanket aside and swing your legs over the bed's edge, feeling the cabin floor's coolness against your feet. You spot a piece of paper propped against a half-burned log in the fireplace. The neatly typed letters starkly contrast the rustic chaos around you, and you rise to retrieve it, your heart pounding in your chest.

You unfold the letter, your eyes scanning the words with growing anxiety:

Y/N,

If you’re reading this, you’re awake. I know you’re confused and maybe even scared. I’m so sorry for what I did to you. I couldn’t think of any other way to protect you. I had to get you away from everything.

I’ve spent so long planning this, and I know it sounds wild—because it is. I wanted to pull a prank on my friends. I wanted them to be scared, to experience that heart-pounding rush of fear that comes when you think your life is in danger, but I never wanted them to be hurt. I didn’t want them to suffer like my family did. I wanted to make a point, to show them how fragile life can be, but they didn’t see it that way.

So, I dressed up as a killer—in those overalls you saw me in. I spent weeks piecing together the costumes, researching horror movies for inspiration, and trying to channel the terror that would haunt their dreams. I used fake blood, a mask, and everything to make it feel authentic without crossing the line.

When I saw the genuine fear in their eyes, it twisted something inside me. It was as if I had become the monster I was pretending to be. I realised then that I had pushed things too far. I lost sight of the line between fun and horror, and once you cross that line, there’s no going back.

When I saw what they did to my sisters, how could I resist this? How could I let them go on living their lives while mine was shattered? So, I created a nightmare for them, a taste of the horror that took everything from me. But now I realise it’s too late for regrets.

I know I’ve gone too far and can’t undo what I’ve done. I didn’t want you to be part of this madness, Y/N. You deserve better than this chaos.

You are my light in the darkness, and I can’t bear to lose you too. I just needed time to figure things out, to find a way to make things right.

Please forgive me. I’ll be back as soon as I can.

Love,

Josh.

You read the letter twice, each word slicing through you like ice. Shock gives way to anger, fear, and overwhelming sadness. Josh’s intentions may have stemmed from a place of love, but his actions were reckless and dangerous. He had crossed a line, dragging you into the depths of his madness.

Setting the letter aside, you wrap the jacket tighter around yourself, feeling its weight as if it holds pieces of him—his warmth, scent, and shared memories. But now, those memories feel tainted, overshadowed by what he’s done.

You pace the small cabin, anxiety bubbling up as the reality of your situation sinks in. You’re alone on Blackwood Mountain, isolated from the world, and he’s somewhere out there—lost in his turmoil.

Your heart races as you wonder: How far has he gone? You approach the window, peering into the darkened woods surrounding the cabin. The trees loom like sentinels, shadows creeping ominously in the dying light.

You can’t just wait here. You have to find him. You have to make him see reason, to pull him back from the brink before he loses himself entirely to the darkness. Gathering your resolve, you take a deep breath, trying to steady your shaking hands.

With newfound determination, you head toward the door, knowing you must find Josh and confront him about his choices—before it’s too late.

You take a deep breath, heart pounding as you inch toward the cabin door. The stillness of the night is oppressive, a suffocating blanket that wraps around you, making every instinct scream for you to turn back. But you push through, determined to find Josh, to confront him about the madness he has unleashed.

As you swing the door open, the icy air hits you, and the moonlight spills into the cabin, illuminating the expanse of snow-covered ground outside. You step out, every nerve in your body on high alert. The forest looms around you, shadows twisting in the pale light.

Suddenly, a chilling howl echoes through the trees, sending a shiver down your spine. You freeze, straining to see through the darkness. That’s when you glimpse it—a creature, grotesque and otherworldly, its long limbs twisted and elongated, eyes glowing like embers in the night.

Panic surges through you, an instinctual fight-or-flight response kicking in as the creature turns its head, locking its eyes on you. In that moment, all rational thought vanishes. You stumble backward, heart racing, and slam the door shut behind you. Adrenaline propels you into the small cabin as you dart toward the nearest hiding place—the bed.

You drop to the floor and scramble beneath it, your breath quick and shallow. The world around you blurs into a haze of terror, and you press your back against the wooden frame, curling into a ball as the sound of the monster’s snarling fills your ears. You feel utterly powerless, trapped in the darkness of your hiding place, time stretching endlessly as the creature stalks outside.

Hours pass, each minute feeling like an eternity. The monster’s guttural growls echo through the night, haunting you with the promise of violence. You clutch the blanket around you, trying to drown out the sound, waiting for dawn with a desperation that gnaws at your insides.

Finally, a faint light seeps through the cracks in the cabin walls, signalling the arrival of dawn. You let out a shaky breath, still too terrified to move. But just as the first rays of sunlight touch the ground, a loud explosion rips through the silence. The ground shakes, and the monster’s screams suddenly fall silent.

You stay hidden, frozen in place, unable to comprehend what happened. The panic tightens around you, and even though the creature is gone, you can’t bring yourself to leave the safety of your hiding spot. What if it comes back? What if there are more?

The hours go on, and the sun climbs higher in the sky. You hear distant voices, the sound of people calling out, but fear keeps you rooted beneath the bed. You don’t want to face the outside world after what you’ve just seen.

Finally, the door creaks open, and you hold your breath, heart racing as footsteps approach. “Y/N?” a voice calls out, but it feels distant, like a dream. “Are you in here?”

Others join the voice, and the panic swirling inside you melts into a fragile hope. You wait, listening as they search the cabin, calling your name, until one of them finally crouches down beside the bed.

“There you are,” It’s a search team member, their face a mix of relief and concern. “You’re safe now. Come on out.”

With trembling limbs, you crawl out from your hiding spot, feeling the sun on your face for the first time since the nightmare began. You’re enveloped in the warmth of a rescue team member, the world flooding back into focus, but your mind is still reeling.

“Where’s Josh?” you ask, your voice shaky.

“We’ll take you to him,” the rescuer replies, helping you to your feet. “He was found in the mines. He’s hurt, but he’s alive.”

“The mines? What mines?” You ask the rescuer, beyond confused.

“Your friend ended up down the mines. All of your other friends are saying some monster attacked them,” the rescuer replies.

“I saw it, too,” You whisper.

The relief floods through you, but it’s tinged with a deep sense of foreboding. It was real; the monster was real. You weren’t going crazy.

As you’re escorted back through the snow, the reality of the night’s horrors sinks in. You catch glimpses of the chaos left behind—the aftermath of the explosion, the remnants of the monsters. When you finally reach the makeshift medical station set up for the search team, you scan the area, your heart racing as you spot Josh sitting on a cot, looking dishevelled and lost. He’s staring blankly ahead, his eyes hollow, as if he’s not truly present.

“Josh!” you call, your heart in your throat as you rush forward.

He snaps his gaze to you, confusion clouding his expression, and for a moment, you fear he won’t recognise you. “Y/N?” he whispers, his voice trembling. “Is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me! I’m okay!” you reply, urgency threading through your words as you reach him.

He stands abruptly, eyes wide as he takes a few hesitant steps toward you, as if afraid you might vanish again. “I thought… I thought I lost you,” he murmurs, his voice breaking as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into an embrace that feels both desperate and protective.

“I was so scared, Josh,” you admit, tears spilling down your cheeks. “I saw this thing, and it was right outside the cabin. I thought I’d never get out.”

His grip tightens around you, his breath hitching as he pulls back just enough to look into your eyes. “I was worried about you. I thought they’d get you. I’m so sorry for leaving you there.”

“You saved my life by leaving me there. I had a place to hide,” You tell him, giving him a scared smile.

His eyes search yours, wild and frantic. “Are you here, or is it all in my head? I’ve been in this hell for so long, I can’t tell what’s real anymore.”

“I’m real, Josh,” you assure him, cupping his face in your hands. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

As the weight of your words settles between you, you see a flicker of clarity return to his gaze. “You have no idea how much that means to me,” he breathes, and without warning, he scoops you up into his arms, spinning you around as relief washes over him.

“Josh!” you exclaim, laughing and crying at once, overwhelmed by the mixed emotions. “Put me down!”

But he holds you tightly, his expression fierce with affection. “No, I won’t let you go. Not again. I was so worried about you and those things out there. I can’t— I can’t lose you like I lost them.”

You pull back from the embrace, searching Josh's eyes for anything that reflects the boy you knew before this nightmare began. “What about everyone else?” you ask, your voice steady despite the uncertainty. “What happened with the others?”

His expression darkens, the shadows of grief and guilt flickering across his features. “They tied me up after I confronted them,” he admits, running a shaky hand through his hair. “I was… This thing took me, and my sisters were there and—“

You nod slowly, recalling Josh’s note, where he dressed up as a killer to scare his friends during a camping trip. “Josh, they’re gone. They couldn’t have been there,” you remind him gently.

“No, Hannah was there. She was one of those things,” he replies, his voice thick with remorse. “It’s my fault that everyone is here… I could’ve gotten everyone killed.”

“Josh, you didn’t know,” you reassure him, brushing your thumb across his cheek. “What happened with those monsters wasn’t your fault. How were you supposed to know what would happen?”

He looks away, his gaze distant, haunted by the memories. “It’s still my fault. I led everyone here. When I saw those things… I was terrified and left you all alone to face them.”

“You didn’t leave me behind on purpose. You thought you were protecting me,” you say softly, trying to keep his gaze locked onto yours. “But you need to understand that you need help, Josh. I know what you did was because you’re grieving, but seriously… drugging me? You could have just told me what you were doing. I understand why you did it.”

He nods, tears pooling in his eyes. “I know. I’m so lost right now. I can’t even tell what’s real anymore. I’m scared that if I close my eyes, I’ll see them again—my sisters, the monsters. It’s all jumbled in my head.”

“Then we’ll get through this together,” you assure him, your voice strong. “But you have to let people in. You need to talk to someone who can help.”

Just then, a medical team approaches, their expressions severe but sympathetic. “Josh, Y/N,” one of the paramedics says, his voice steady. “We need to take you both for a check-up. It’s protocol after what you’ve been through.”

You nod, your heart racing as you follow Josh’s lead toward the makeshift medical station. “Do you think the others will be okay?” you ask him, glancing back at the chaos surrounding you—the remnants of the explosion, the hushed voices of searchers, and the growing concern etched into their faces.

“I hope so,” he replies, his voice wavering. “But I don’t know. I was down in the mines for so long. I don’t even know if they knew I was gone.”

As the medical team checks you both over, the atmosphere shifts slightly, tinged with relief and anxiety. They examine your injuries and ensure you’re both stable, then refer you to a hospital for a more thorough check-up. After an eternity of tests and questions, you finally get the green light to leave.

“Hey,” Josh says as you both stand outside the hospital, the sunlight peeking through the trees. “You okay?”

“I think so,” you reply, giving him a tentative smile. “Just… still processing everything.”

He nods, his expression solemn but determined. “I just called a taxi… do you wanna return to mine?”

“Sure, I’d like that,” you agree, feeling a slight weight lift as you follow him. The drive is quiet, each of you lost in thought, but the familiar contours of his neighbourhood provide a strange sense of comfort.

When you finally reach Josh’s home, he hesitates at the door, his hand resting on the knob. “Are you sure you want to come in? I understand if you changed your mind.”

“I want to be here,” you say, your heart pounding as you step closer.

He nods, opening the door and stepping inside, the familiar scent of home washing over you. As he closes the door behind you, the world's weight outside feels slightly lighter, if only for a moment.

“I’ve been thinking about many things,” he says quietly as you sit on the couch. “About the prank and my sisters and how I could have responded to everything better.”

He sits beside you, leaning against the couch as he stares at the floor. “But I just don’t know how to move forward. Everything feels so twisted and wrong.”

“We’ll figure it out together,” you promise, reaching for his hand and intertwining your fingers. “One step at a time.”

Josh looks up, a flicker of hope igniting in his eyes. “Thank you, Y/N. For being here. I don’t deserve it, but it means everything to me.”

“You deserve it,” you insist, squeezing his hand. “We all deserve a second chance.”

The two of you sit in comfortable silence, and while the shadows of the past still loom over you, the warmth of each other’s presence offers a flicker of light in the darkness.

The sun dipped low in the sky, casting long shadows across Josh’s living room. The chaos of the past few days still lingered in the air, but it felt different here—more intimate and safe. As you sat on the couch, your fingers intertwined with Josh’s, you couldn’t help but glance around at the familiar yet altered space.

“I can’t believe you wore those ugly overalls last night,” you teased, breaking the silence. “They made you look like a redneck farmer.”

Josh chuckled, his mood lifting slightly as he recalled the memory. “Hey, they were fashionable! At least for a psycho prank gone wrong,” he replied, a smirk on his lips.

“Fashionable? Really?” You grinned at him, teasingly nudging his shoulder.

“Okay, fair enough. But I thought the whole ‘creepy psycho in overalls’ thing was semi-accurate for a crazed killer,” he defended, rolling his eyes but unable to suppress a smile.

“It was not giving psycho killer,” You laugh, hitting him lightly on the shoulder. As you both shared a moment of laughter, Josh’s playful demeanour took on a different edge. He leaned in closer, mischief sparking in his eyes. “You know, you might think you know what a psycho looks like,” he said, his voice low and teasing, “but I could show you what it looks like.”

Before you could fully process his words, he playfully reached for your neck, his fingers wrapping gently around it, creating a tension that sent shivers down your spine. “Just a little squeeze,” he whispered, a smirk on his lips.

Your heart raced, caught between the thrill of his teasing and the underlying intensity in his gaze. “Josh…,” you breathed, half-laughing, half-breathless, the playful edge of his words tinged with something more profound.

As you gazed into his eyes, a strange heat surged through you, an undeniable thrill that coursed through your veins. You found yourself leaning slightly into his grip, an instinctual reaction that did not go unnoticed. A flicker of realisation crossed Josh's face—a mix of surprise and intrigue.

“You like this, don’t you?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave, the teasing lilt now laced with something more intense. The corner of his mouth curled into a knowing smirk as he subtly tightened his grip just enough to draw a soft gasp from you.

Your heart raced, and the realisation hit you hard. The thrill of danger mingled with an unexpected desire, and you couldn’t deny the rush it gave you. “Maybe I do,” you admitted your voice barely above a whisper, challenging him even as your breath hitched.

Josh’s eyes darkened, a spark of excitement igniting between you. “You’re going to have to be careful with that,” he murmured, leaning in closer, his breath warm against your skin. “You never know how far I’ll take it.”

Josh leaned in and kissed your neck, his tongue tracing the curve of your jaw and sending shivers down your spine. His hands found their way to your body, touching you in all the right places and sending more shivers through you. He sucked on your neck, his teeth lightly grazing your skin and making you moan softly.

His eyes bore into yours, dark and intense, as he slowly lowered himself to his knees before you. The atmosphere around you seemed to fade away; the only sounds now were the rustle of leaves and the distant call of wind, all background noise to the thrumming tension between you two.

"Lie back," he commanded softly, but there was no mistaking the authority in his voice. You obeyed without hesitation, your heart pounding as you stretched out on the soft, mossy ground. The coolness of the earth seeped into your skin, a stark contrast to the heat building inside you.

Josh positioned himself between your legs, his gaze never leaving yours. He ran his hands up your thighs, his touch firm yet deliberate, sending electric jolts through your body. A predatory smile spread across his lips as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your inner thighs.

He began with gentle kisses, trailing them up your thighs, each one sending delicious tingles through your core. His fingers moved expertly, tracing patterns on your sensitive skin, teasing you with their nearness but not entirely granting you the relief you craved. He knew exactly how to build the anticipation and keep you on the edge.

Josh's eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he pulled your leggings off, revealing you clad in your panties. He pulls them to the side, gently running his fingertips above your hole, admiring the shine his actions elicit.

He lowers his face slowly, wrapping his lips around your clit, his tongue flicking over the sensitive nub with expert precision. You quietly cried out, the sensation overwhelming, a perfect blend of pleasure and pain. He worked you with relentless intensity, his mouth and tongue creating a symphony of sensations that left you breathless.

"Fuck, Josh," you moaned, your fingers digging into the moss beneath you. "That feels so good."

He didn't respond verbally, but his actions spoke volumes. His fingers joined the assault, slipping inside you with ease, filling you just as thoroughly as his mouth was devouring you. The dual stimulation was almost too much to bear, and you could feel yourself teetering on the edge, the orgasm building like a tidal wave within you.

But just as you were about to crest, he pulled back, his fingers retreating from your aching pussy. You whimpered in protest, your body trembling with need. "No, please," you begged, your voice raw with desperation.

"Not yet," he said, his voice a deep growl. He kissed his way up your body, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. When he reached your neck, he bit down gently, a sharp bite that made you gasp. "I'm going to make you wait, make you ache for it," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin.

His hand returned to your centre, his fingers sliding back inside you with a needy groan. He played you like an instrument, his touch both rough and tender, pushing you right to the brink but never allowing you to fall over. "Look at you," he murmured, his voice dripping with approval. "So desperate, so needy. I love it."

The humiliation, mixed with the arousal fueling your desire even further. "Josh, please," you pleaded, your voice breaking.

"Not yet," he growled, pulling his fingers free again. "We're not done here."

He shifted position, his mouth descending on your clit again, but this time with a ferocity that left you gasping for breath. His tongue worked relentlessly, driving you mad with need, while his fingers teased your entrance. The combination was maddening, a whirlwind of sensations that had you repeatedly crying out his name.

"Please, Josh, let me come," you begged, your body tensing as the orgasm loomed large.

"Go ahead," he challenged, his tongue flicking over your clit in rapid, staccato bursts.

You couldn't hold back any longer. With a cry of release, you came hard, your body convulsing beneath him as waves of ecstasy washed over you. He didn't stop, his mouth and fingers working in unison to draw out every last drop of your climax until you were left quivering and spent, your breaths coming in ragged gasps.

The first orgasm started to wash over you like a wave in the ocean, and you let out a soft moan. But Josh didn't stop. He didn't stop sucking your clit.

Josh’s lips lingered on your clit, his tongue flicking rhythmically as he drove you deeper into a haze of pleasure and pain. The sensation was overwhelming, a tidal wave crashing against your senses, leaving you breathless and desperate for release. His fingers dug into your thighs, holding you firmly in place as he devoured you with relentless intensity.

“Josh, please… I can’t…” you whimpered, your voice trembling with a mixture of pleading and ecstasy. Your hands moved instinctively to push him away, but his grip only tightened, his eyes locking onto yours with an unyielding ferocity that sent shivers down your spine.

His tongue pressed harder, circling your clit with expert precision, drawing out every gasp and moan from deep within you. The pleasure was so intense it bordered on torture, each stroke of his tongue sending electric shocks through your body.

With one final flick of his tongue, he drew out a strangled cry from your throat, the orgasm hovering just out of reach. Your body trembled with the effort of holding back, every muscle straining against the overwhelming pleasure.

You watched as his eyes darkened with lust, the predator in him coming to the surface as he took what he wanted from you.

His mouth never leaves your clit, sucking harder, his teeth grazing lightly against your sensitive nub, the sharp sting mixing with the pleasure to create a heady cocktail of sensations.

You cried out as the orgasm tore through you, a blinding wave of pleasure that left you gasping for breath. Your legs shook uncontrollably, your muscles spasming as the aftershocks rippled.

Josh didn’t stop. He kept his mouth locked onto your clit, milking every ounce of pleasure from your shuddering form. You could feel your juices flowing, coating his chin and dripping onto your thighs, a sticky testament to your surrender.

Your mind reeled, the sheer intensity of the experience pushing you to the edge of sanity. But there was no escaping him, no way to deny the primal pull of his dominance. You found yourself arching against him, desperate for more, even as your body screamed for rest.

“Josh… please… too much…” you moaned, your voice barely coherent. The overstimulation was becoming too much, the constant barrage of pleasure threatening to overwhelm you completely.

And then he was there again, his tongue finding your clit once more, the pressure perfect as he guided you toward another peak. Each flick of his tongue, each suck of his lips, brought you closer to the edge until you were teetering on the brink again, helpless to resist.

With a strangled cry, you came again, your body convulsing as the orgasm ripped through you like wildfire. Your pussy clenched around his tongue, pulsing with the force of your release.

But Josh wasn’t satisfied with just three. He kept going, his mouth relentless as he pushed you toward yet another orgasm. The world narrowed down to the sensation of his mouth, the taste of your arousal, and the sound of your cries filling the air.

Your mind blanked, lost in the sea of pleasure he had created. All thought fled as you obeyed, riding the wave of sensation until you were thrown into another explosive orgasm. Your body jerked and twitched, your cries echoing through the room as you shattered yet again.

Your vision blurred, your body trembling with exhaustion and pleasure. You could feel the sticky mess of your juices coating his face, dripping down onto your thighs.

“Josh… please… no more…” you begged, your voice weak and strained. The constant onslaught of pleasure had left you drained, every muscle quivering with the aftermath of your multiple climaxes.

Before you could protest, his mouth was back on your clit, his tongue flicking mercilessly as he drove you toward yet another orgasm. The sensation was almost too much, the sheer intensity of it pushing you to the edge of comprehension.

“Josh… please… stop…” you pleaded, your voice breaking as you reached the limit of your endurance. The overstimulation was too much, the constant barrage of pleasure threatening to break you apart completely.

But Josh was relentless. He held your gaze as he drove you to the edge, his eyes burning with a dark fire that refused to be quenched.

“Okay,” Josh says, pulling his mouth away from you. He gets off his knees, stands up and walks to the other side of the room, sitting on a single-person couch.

“Why are you sitting there?” You ask him, your voice weak and quiet.

“You told me to stop, so I did. If you can’t handle me, I’m happy to let you rest,” He teases, defiantly sitting with his arms crossed. You could tell he was playing games with you, wanting to bring you to the edge and beyond over and over again.

He’s still sitting there, and you’re still lying on the couch. You haven’t moved, not even a little bit. Your whole body is quivering from the overstimulation and pleasure he put you through. And now he’s sitting on the other side of the room, teasing you and playing games with your body.

“I didn’t want you to stop,” You say, finally finding the energy to speak.

“Then why did you tell me to stop?” He asks, looking at you with a raised brow.

“I… I… I don’t know,” You whimper.

“Are you sure you’re ready for more?” He asks, standing up now and walking back to the couch.

“I’m sure,” You say. You’re begging to have him inside of you. You’re begging for more. You’re begging for anything and everything he’ll give you.

He reaches out and grabs your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the bed and standing in front of you. Your legs fall to the sides as he bends down to kiss you, his hand trailing down your thigh to your pussy.

He pushes two fingers in you, curling them upwards and rubbing against your g-spot. You feel yourself building up to another climax that’s different from the others.

“Josh,” You moan.

“Yes, baby,” He replies.

“You’re going to make me cum again,” You say to him.

“That’s the plan,” He says, his voice soft as he speaks.

You feel the wave wash over you, building up and then letting go. You feel a flood of fluid flowing from your pussy as the climax washes over you, making Josh’s fingers slide out of you with extreme ease.

“Fuck, Y/N,” He whispers. He pulls his fingers out and smears the juices around his mouth and lips, tasting you and swallowing the liquid gold down his throat.

He pulls your legs towards him, spreading you apart so he can fit his body between them. He leans down and kisses you again, your juices still on his lips and tongue. Josh removes his clothing, displaying his toned body and thick cock.

“Come here, Y/N,” He says, sitting down and patting his thighs. He lifts you slightly, sitting you in his lap, making you straddle his cock with your legs. He slides his cock into your pussy and starts to bounce you up and down on his lap.

You lean forward and kiss him, feeling another orgasm building in your lower belly, but it’s different from the other ones, your tolerance to orgasms building up higher than you thought possible.

“Oh god,” You say. “Oh my god.”

“Just a little longer,” He says. Your eyes widen, and your mouth opens in a silent scream as you come again.

“Good girl,” He says. He smiles at you and starts to rub your back. “I want to see you cum more.”

You’re so weak you can barely hold yourself up, but that doesn’t stop him. He holds you up for you, fucking you hard and deep. You feel another climax coming on and let out a loud moan as it hits you. Josh grunts in your ear.

“Cum for me,” He says. “Cum all over my cock.”

You feel the heat wash over you, and you clench around him. He picks up the pace, fucking you so hard your juices are flowing down his cock and onto his lap. You feel like you’ve cummed too much that you can’t take anymore.

But he doesn’t care. He just keeps going, fucking you harder and more profound than you thought possible. He’s still holding you up, not letting you rest.

“Cum again,” He grunts. “Cum for me.”

You do as he says, cumming again and clenching around his cock. His breathing gets faster and heavier.

Josh’s grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh as he thrust more profoundly and more complexly. The rough, dominant manner in which he was taking you sent a thrill through your body, making your skin tingle with anticipation. His breath was hot against your ear, his voice low and commanding. “You’re mine,” he growled, each word punctuated by another powerful thrust. “And I’m going to fill you up so good, you’ll feel me for days.”

Your body responded involuntarily, clenching around him as he continued to pump into you. The sensation was overwhelming, waves of pleasure crashing over you with each of his movements. You could feel the strain in your muscles, the way your legs trembled slightly from the intensity of it all. Your breaths came in short, ragged gasps, and you could hear the slick sounds of your bodies sliding together, mingling with the occasional grunt or moan that escaped Josh’s lips.

He captures your mouth in a bruising kiss, his tongue invading your mouth as forcefully as he invaded your body. His taste, mixed with the salty sweat of exertion, was intoxicating. You could feel his hardness pressing against the walls of your pussy, every part of his cock rubbing against you in just the right way to drive you wild.

The smell of sex filled the air, a heady mix of sweat, arousal, and the earthy scent of the forest. It was intoxicating, making your head swim with desire. The sound of your moans and his grunts echoed around you, the noises blending into a symphony of pleasure.

Josh’s pace began to change, becoming more erratic as his control started slipping. You could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles bunched and flexed with each movement. His thrusts became less controlled, more primal, as he drove himself into you with abandon.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he growled, his voice strained. “So tight, so wet… I can’t hold back much longer.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, the knowledge that he was so close to releasing sending a fresh wave of excitement through you.

“Do it, Josh,” you whispered, your voice trembling with need. “Fill me up… please.”

“I’m cumming,” He grunts out. He leans back on the couch and pulls you down onto his cock, fucking you from beneath. He feels so good. Your muscles are too weak to hold yourself up, so he does it for you, pulling you up and down on him.

He let out a guttural groan, his body tensing as he began to come undone. With one final, brutal thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, his hips slamming against yours as he came hard. You could feel the warmth of his release filling you, his cum flooding your insides as he held you tightly, his grip almost painfully strong on your hips.

The sensation was overwhelming, the feeling of being full, of having him inside you in such a possessive, consuming way. You could feel every pulse of his orgasm, the way his cock twitched and throbbed within you. The heat of his seed spread through you, making you gasp at the intensity of it all.

Josh’s breathing was heavy, his chest heaving as he continued to hold you down, his body pressed tightly against yours. You could feel the sweat dripping from his brow and his heart pounding against your back. The aftermath of their intense coupling left you both breathless, the world seeming to spin around you.

“God, that was… incredible,” Josh murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. He loosened his grip on your hips slightly but still kept you pinned beneath him, unwilling to let you go just yet. “You took that so well… so perfectly.”

You could feel the remnants of his orgasm still pulsing inside you, the warm, sticky sensation making you squirm slightly. The feeling of being filled, of having him so deep within you, was intoxicating. You wanted to stay like this forever, wrapped in his arms, connected to him in the most intimate way possible.

“Josh…” you whispered, your voice shaky with emotion. “That was…”

“Shh,” he interrupted, pressing a finger to your lips. “Just enjoy it while you can. I’ll be filling you up again by the end of tonight.”

His words sent a thrill through you, the promise of more making your heart race. You could feel the beginnings of arousal stirring within you again, the aftershocks of their previous climax still lingering.

He wraps his arms around your waist and holds you tight. You lean back into his embrace and let his body envelop you. He presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“I never want this to end,” he says.

“I don’t either,” You reply.

He kisses the top of your head again, and you both relax, basking in each other’s presence. You’re so happy like you’ve never been happier in your life. You know this is where you’re meant to be, and you’ll never want it to end.

You lean back on his shoulder and close your eyes, letting the world wash over you. You know he’ll never leave your side and protect you from all harm. You love him with all your heart.

And you know he loves you, too.

[jollmaster]

(re)design trivia: Broken Stone a.k.a. Flaming Skull Guy

° rework of flaming skull guy, just because I can and because I'm tired of suits and bowties

° lenape warrior

° skinny to the bone

° in the head area is literally: poor guy was scalped before death

° a crack on the skull as a reminder of death (split open with axe)

° traditional clothing

° amulets around the neck and in harnesses

° partial reference to the wendigo: lenape belonged to the algonquin tribe group

main gang: Vaggie, Charlie, Angel Dust, Niffty, sir Pentious, Cherri Bomb, Husk, Alastor

Heaven: Adam, Eve, Lute, Emily, Sera

Adam and Eve's children: Cain

Hell: Lilith, Lucifer, Seviathan, Helsa, Razzle and Dazzle

Vees: Vox, Valentino, Velvette

overlords: Zestial, Rosie, Carmilla Carmine, Odette and Clara

friends and relatives: Mimzy, Arackniss, Molly, Alastor's mom, Alastor's father

[kassiekole22]

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

His Angel

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

Pairing: Josh Washington x Fem!Reader

Description: Desperate to save your boyfriend, Josh, you travel through the mines alone to find him, soon to have a bittersweet reunion...

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Mention Of Death.

Word Count: 735

A/N: The queen of fluff and angst is back, bitches!!! Haha, just kidding. I'm not the queen. 😂 But I am back and plan on delivering some brand new fics to the Until Dawn fanbase to celebrate the remake, starting with this fic here. I hope you enjoy it. 🖤 (Find all my fics at #kassieuntildawnfanfics until I can fix my masterlist, and comment to let me know if you want to be added to the new taglist!)

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

She screams his name, her voice echoing off the rocks walls and dirt pathways, traveling for miles through the underground tomb but falling on the deaf ears of the dead. She runs through the rugged maze that is these old mines, while fear grips her heart tightly. But she isn't as afraid of the possible dangers that lurk in the shadows as she is afraid of losing that one person she searches for.

Jagged stones scrape and cut her flesh as she climbs, painting the environment crimson with her blood. The harsh cold air bites fiercely at her skin, freezing through to her bones enough to cause nothing but a painful numbness to course through her limbs. The agony she feels is more intense than anything she has ever been through, but she must keep going. Her love for him fuels her strength as she pushes through and bears it all.

She won't stop until she finds him... Death wouldn't even get in her way...

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

He sits with his head in his hands, his body trembling from the freezing temperature and his deep fear of isolation. He wishes for redemption—to see her again and make things right. It is the only thing that keeps him holding on anymore. He chews at his dry and cracked lip while familiar voices echo in his brain. Are the memories? Did he create them? Were they even real? He doesn't know. Though he hopes that some day he can get some answers.

But suddenly—amist the sadist voices swirling around his mind—another voice calls out. It's much sweeter than the rest, with a hint of sorrow and a broken sob mixed within it. Though it still sounds warm, just like home. It takes him a moment before he can comprehend the voice, until she is crouching before him and taking his bruised cheeks in her icy, frostbitten hands.

His pale blue eyes lift up, and a gasp of a shaken breath leaves him at the sight of her. Soaking wet hair frames her dirty face, and a few trickles of blood drip from a wide cut on her forehead and a few more from falling from her lips. Then his eyes glance back down to see even more blood covering her clothes. He wants to ask what happened to her, but he can only muster up one word to speak...

"Angel..." He whispers, which filters through a cold breath, parting his chapped lips ever so slightly.

She smiles faintly at this as her glistening eyes light back up with life. It was a word that always made her heart flutter, just as long as it came from him. She wraps her arms around him, embracing him like it will be the last time she ever gets to. And he rests his head on her shoulder while returning the embrace, sighing happily now that he is right back where he belongs. Although she looks a mess, she couldn't look better to him in this moment. His angel—the girl who had saved him time and time again—was finally back in his arms. He couldn't be more grateful for it.

And she is grateful that he didn't hear it—the screams that tore from her blood-stained lips as her stomach and other vital organs got ripped out by the wendigo. He didn't need the guilt weighing him down any further than he had already sunk. She may have died trying to find him, but she reached her goal in the end. She vowed that not even death would stop her. And even though it tried right before she got to him, she continued to push through due to her overwhelming love for him. 

Now she will watch over him while he waits to be saved, maybe even while he tries to heal in the hospital and longer if she's allowed to leave this place. She would hold his hand while he learns of her fate, even if he doesn't know of her presence. She knows that deep down, he would still feel her near. She would watch him find love again and raise a family like they had talked about in the past. Despite the pain of that future no longer being with her, she would watch with a tearful smile, proud of him for all he overcame. She would continue to protect him from beyond for years—she would continue to be his angel.

𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐⭒𖤐

[bullet-prooflove]

Tomorrow gonna blame it on the alcohol, Same old thing leads to another

Tagging: @kmc1989

Title: You, Me & Tennessee

When Dean wakes up he barely knows where he is, his temples pound and his mouth tastes like bourbon, the kind you find on the bottom shelf. All around him is the scent of gardenias and he knows, he just fucking knows that he’s done it again.

He groans as he shifts onto his back, his eyes fixed on the ceiling and the crown moulding above him. He throws his arm across his eyes to shield them from the light that’s filtering in through the open window. The breeze brushes over his bare skin, the plush white sheets pooling across his hips and for a moment he allows himself to imagine himself  that this is life.

A cottage in Tennessee, with a pink rosebush alongside the front door. Hiking on the weekends, grilling in the summer with a cold beer in one hand. He’d have a normal job, probably as a forest ranger, he’d do shifts in the watchtower where you’d almost got your heart ripped out by Wendigo and when he’d come home you’d be happy to see him.

When he finally manages to get himself out of bed, he finds his clothes folded neatly on the chair in the corner of the room, the same as always. He takes a shower before he pulls them on, using the guest toothbrush that you always leave out for him when he turns up unexpectantly. It’s when he gets to the door that he pauses, because it means he has to face you again and Dean, he’s not sure if he’s ready to do that. He briefly contemplates escaping out of the window but the truth is he wants to see you, it’s why he ends up here at least once a year.

He finds you in the garden, seated at the table on the veranda with a freshly made cafetiere of coffee and two mugs sitting in front of you. There’s a Stephen King novel in your hands and he wonders how the hell you can still read that shit after everything that happened to you up on that mountain.

When your eyes flicker up to meet his gaze, it feels like everything else just falls away. He forgets the reasons you can’t be together, that his life is so violent and chaotic that it would kill you, he knows it would. Instead he just focuses on you, the fact he’s missed you more than anything in his whole entire life.

You don’t expect him to kiss you, he can tell from the way the book slips out of your hand, hitting the paving stones but you don’t fight him. You never do, because the thing is you’ve missed Dean just as much as he’s missed you.

Love Dean? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[idkfitememate]

Deer Bones and Golden Crowns Pt.1

♡︎ « Next Part ⋙

૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა Pairings : GN! “Normal” Reader x Vil (& others!!)

૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა W.K. : 5k

໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১ Tags/CW&TW : Descriptive Gore, yandere-esk reader, bodily gore

໒꒰ྀི˶˙Ⱉ˙˶꒱ྀིა Author’s note :(My sincerest apologies(/s), but this is a male reader! He/Him pronouns!! Anyone can read of course, but if I find any comments of a fetishized nature, your comment will be deleted and you will be promptly blocked! Thank you!!~)

Wendigo’s are spirits that claim body over the dead and force the risen corpse to eat the flesh of their brethren, turning others into flesh eating creatures such as themselves.

Changlings were many things, but the one thing they all had in common was that they were placed in the cradles of human children who were snatched away in the night by fairies. They had the innate ability to change their forms and appearances to become something they weren’t, to convince others they were that new form.

Now… what if these two creatures were to mate? A creature of infinite flesh and identities and one of never endearing hunger for flesh and a spirit of famine?

You would get the second in command of the young Schoenheit. Vil’s right hand man and assistant since birth.

(y/n).

He was of average height, average build, average hair color, average eye color, average everything.

Nothing about him stood out amongst the gorgeous crowd of those whom he would work with.

Though, he had an innate eye for beauty and details, even in the most of drab places. He had the ability to turn any old lump of coal into diamond. He could spot anyone and turn them into a star.

That’s why his parents worked out a deal with Vil’s.

(y/n) works with Vil to keep appearances and popularity stay shining, and Vil’s family will continue to house and tend to (y/n)’s.

Fair, yes?

Well it was, for some time anyway. Before Vil was whisked off in that Ebony Carriage guided by those horses of bone, off to Night Raven College, leaving (y/n) behind.

Leaving his friend behind.

At least, (y/n) would like to say they were friends, but he knew better. He was nothing more than another tool in Vil’s arsenal to keep him in the spotlight, but honestly? (y/n) couldn’t complain.

After years of being a glorified servant of the other, he grew an attachment to the blond/purple haired man. Seeing him everyday was apart of the fae boy’s daily routine and him being missing from it was already messing with him.

Even though Vil had only been taken shipped off around a day ago. But that wasn’t the biggest issue.

The biggest issue would have to be the fact that an Ebony Carriage had come for him a few nights before, and in a fit of rage he destroyed it.

Though he did more than just throw stones or bricks, he intended to send a message. YOU intended to send a message.

A message asking why the fuck they would dare try to separate you from your *kostbar schimmernder stern.

You broke the coffin in, shattering the glass surrounding it. You did torch the wood of the carriage, and completely destroyed the small mirror that rested on the top of that forsaken coffin.

You sent it on its way as a warning.

Only to come and regret that decision as you watched from the tree line as the carriage that now held the sleeping body of your friend rid off under the moonlight.

After his leaving, you barely left your room, only carrying out your job with… lesser clients via email or a messenger. Though if not in your room, you’d be in the forest, most likely with your parents.

Speaking of, all your life you kept your family heritage a secret. Whenever someone wanted to meet your parents - such as Vil’s parents - they’d speak through a servant or you. Not to say that they looked inhuman, in fact, they were like you in human forms. Both shockingly average.

But rather because neither, no matter how much practice they had, they could never get over their… urges.

Your mother was a very, very old wendigo, older than most fae really. You could hear her cries beyond the gates of the house, the signs of a successful hunt. Never was she not bloody, her hair drenched in the red, sticky substance and her teeth stained crimson. She carried the scent of death with her everywhere, and sometimes you could see her “fixing” her body, otherwise known as sewing her skin back together. She had made an effort to never allow you to see her “true” form, but that was for naught as very early on in your life you had seen her stalking back to the house, two dead bucks trapped in her maw as her bones and joints creaked with every movement.

Her bloodshot eyes meeting yours. Blood dripping off her skull and large, sharp antlers onto your dolls.

You personally could say the dolls looked better dressed in red.

And your father, ever the trickster he was. With a glance of the untrained eye, and he would seem entirely human. Though, by living with him you could both see and feel, deeply that something was wrong. How his joints would twitch and jut in odd ways, how his expressions were always just slightly off the mark. How he wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t drink. How he never slept or even breathed. If you pressed into his skin enough, you could feel a wooden texture beneath the flesh, and his eyes were dull, as if carved from stone.

His teeth twitched as though alive, and his throat would make the oddest noises, such as bark rubbing together or leaves rustling against each other. Sometimes you could find him staring into the forest, his eyes completely blacked out, his body changing and shifting. His arms too long and his legs too short. His hair both shaggy and sleek while long and short. Haunting noises scraping themselves from his throat.

And sometimes you could hear something respond.

After Vil left, you’d go hunting with your mom, seeing the love she put into every kill for you, as you began to eat with her. She forbade you from eating meals with her due to her diet, but seeing how upset you were, she made an exception.

The feeling of raw deer flesh on your tongue as you gnawed on bones to help clean your teeth, feeling blood run down your chin as you shoved your face into the neck of a fresh kill, your mother kneeled over in her true form, chuffing and licking at your back with love. The grime of dried blood and small hairs beneath your nails as you clawed deeper and deeper into the corpse.

You found a beauty in it.

The beauty of life and death; the circle of life, you supposed.

You’d do the same with your dad, him helping you with your magic output. Finding out that you had inherited your mothers instincts with your fathers innate ability to change. Not your signature spell, but a powerful magic nonetheless.

You spent your days inside or with your family as grief at the loss of your friend consumed you.

You regretted not going when you had the chance. You wanted and needed to find a way inside that damned school.

As you cuddled into the warmth of the pile your family had formed on a pile of blankets and pillows under a window that allowed sunlight to stream onto you, you began to form a plan.

Didn’t that designer work there? What was his name…

Divus Crewel?

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍮🍯🍧୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

It hadn’t been hard really, to get in contact with the fashionista, but after a couple emails you finally got one back.

The school year had started by now, so designing for him was more of a pastime right now rather than a job. But that didn’t stop others from making requests. And no matter how punctual he was with his years of experience, there would always be something or someone to throw him off. Having someone to manage a schedule and otherwise would be a large help, and with your rather impressive portfolio, you knew he’d be bound to say yes.

And yes he did say.

You were scheduled to move to NRC in a few days, packing your belongings in a large suitcase. You heard the door open to your room but didn’t move from your packing instead letting your mother walk to you. You closed the suitcase in time the stopthe blood splatter from the large dead bear she dropped to touch your clothes. Finally looking up at her, she had a small smile on her patchwork face.

“Eat.”

That was all she said but you understood. Usually - with you anyway - the hunts were small with deer or bucks, the occasional fox, wolf or small bunny for a snack. But a bear, that was something worth celebrating. Not to say your mother couldn’t catch something larger, but it was the largest thing she caught for you.

It was a parting gift.

You knew that hunting would become a scarce activity and that’d you’d once more need to get acquainted with regular foods, so this was a very welcome gift, as after this it’d be nothing but cooked meats for you, unfortunately.

Your hands easily gripped the flesh through It’s fur, tearing a large chunk off its neck. You ran a hand through the thick coat before tugging, and with a swift pull, nearly all fur came off the chunk.

You brought the bare skin to your mouth, sinking razor sharp teeth into it. You could tell it was fresh, from the mass amounts of blood that spilled down your chin. The disgusting sounds of flesh being chewed could be heard throughout the home as your father walked in, in his hands a box.

You placed your bite down and rubbed your hands on your pants, turning to him. He stepped over, not minding the blood now on his shoes, and crouched dow, placing the box in your lap.

He ran and hand through your hair as you took in the box.

It was white with a large red bow, small black accents patterned across the top.

Gently untying the bow and lifting the top, a butchers set and a makeup set lay before you, in the center a small gemstone mixed with purple and red sat before you. Picking it up you realized what it was.

When practicing your magic, your parents would offer up an old wand or pen, as was customary. You had yet to do anything with your own life, in the sense that you had yet to fly the nest.

And here you were, making your first decision for yourself. One that would lead you away from here.

From them.

A magic gem.

You could feel the power dripping from inside it, pushing into your being and forcibly flowing through your veins. Looking at the knife and makeup brush sets you noted the small indents in parts of their bases. You gently placed the gem in the sharpener - it was the most normal looking compared to the others, looking like a metal wand - and waved it a bit, small sparkles emanating from its tip.

You stared at the duel sets, then gently set the sharpener down, before leaping up and hugging your father. Your mother quickly got up as well, wrapping her much longer arms around you and your father, none of you minding the blood staining your clothes.

Tomorrow was a new day.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🎂🍭🍡୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

“Glad to see you made it in one piece.”

You stood before Divus Crewel, sciences teacher of Night Raven College and fashion designer. Together in the hall of mirrors, he motioned you forward and began to walk to another mirror, to what you only could assume were the teachers housing.

Dragging behind you were multiple bags, considering the contract you both came up with required you to be on campus the whole time you were employed during the school year, if only to keep you close. The black and white man apparently much more preferred face to face meetings over calls and e-mails.

Divus looked back at you. You had at least five large suitcases and a slew of smaller bags, but were carrying them with ease. By now you had both stepped through the mirror towards his current home and were simply walking the trail to the building, but you were keeping up with his brisk pace with no problem.

He’d be a fool to say he hadn’t heard of you. Just like all the models he worked with, your name was all over the high world of acolytes. You had clients in every circle, and not one of them was dissatisfied. One of the youngest in the business, at only eighteen, Divus would’ve expected you to be a bit ‘shaky on your legs’ so to speak, but you held yourself up high, no signs of stopping or of any fatigue.

Such an interesting boy you are…

“I meant to ask before, but what made you so eager to ask for this role?” Crewl was many things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. He knew Vil had just recently came to NRC, leaving you without your biggest star. So to reach out to Crewl just a few weeks later, he had a feeling he knew why you were here. But he wanted to see if you’d admit it.

“I had recently seen your work. And after… ‘loosing’ Vil, a lot of my work time has dropped. I needed to be busy again, after my few weeks of down time. I hope you understand, fashion is a bit out of my expertise, but I figured it’d be a fun new experience.”

Crewl opened the door to the rather large mansion-like building, guiding you down hall after hall, you immediately making note of every twist and turn as the salt and pepper haired man showed you to what you assumed would be your room for the rest of the school year.

“I see… well, these will be your living quarters till the end of our current contract. I will leave you to get situated for tonight and will show you around the school tomorrow. This weekend will be spent showing you around the rest of this building and fully ironing out your role and duties under me, understood?” You nodded.

“Good pup. Have a good night.” You stared at the back of his head as he walked out of the room and closed the door. You immediately looked around the room taking it in.

It was large, much larger than your own back home. High walls with near ceiling to floor length windows surrounded you, the walls painted in grays and black with hints of purples and golds.

A tribute to the Headmaster of this place, you assumed.

Your new Alaskan king sized canopy bed sat in a corner with sheets that matched to walls, the only other furniture being a desk with a chair, a nightstand, and a dresser. You sighed, knowing your pockets were about to be drained in order to personalize the room.

You walked over to a door, opening it to find the largest walk-in closet - next to Vil’s - you’d ever seen. The damn thing even had a couple levels.

Then you checked the bathroom, which had a glass shower with far too many buttons levers, a quite large and wide clawfoot bathtub, a large vanity with two sinks - why would you ever need two??? - and a towel closet that, again, was much to large for its intended purpose.

Though curiously, in the back of the towel closet, was a magic imbued safe. Quickly figuring out that it responded to a spell of the users choice, you choose a spell of Wendigo nature and unlocked it, walking back to the main room and taking out both sets of “wands” your father gave you. You removed the sharpener from the box and took the others back into the bathroom, quickly pushing them into the safe and locking it back up.

Now, it was time for a room makeover… or the best you could right now, anyway.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍪🍦🍯୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

The last of your clothes are placed into the closet and sighed. All unpacked, all that was left was actually giving the room a makeover, you were just stuck between actually putting in some elbow grease and doing it yourself, or just magicing - is that a word? - the room and being done with it.

As you pondered, you glanced out the window, noting the moon was starting to rise, sky dark and shining with stars. At that same moment, your stomach growled. You huffed and walked over to the window, staring out at the back of the building, noticing in a forest behind it. In fact, you now recalled that a forest surrounded the damn thing.

How… convenient.

You grabbed your wand and threw on a pair of boots and an over coat that was already painted a deep crimson, as well as a small satchel, and stalked out the door, humming quietly to yourself.

You snuck through halls, hypersensitive to any boards that seemed a little too loose for your liking. You leapt over railing and fell to the first floor, opening the front door silently and closing it behind you. Your nail grew into a point, and you entered it to the lock, locking the door back into place. Then, you took off into the night, rushing through trees.

You dropped to all fours and ran faster, taking in the night air.

You heard your limbs snap as your form changed, long and jagged antlers protruding from your head as the skin melted off your face. Your limbs lengthened and your legs became unguligrade, bones cracking and rebuilding themselves. Your awkward run became a strong gallop, your body thinning until your ribs pushed through your skin and spine protruding from your back.

You sniffed the air, taking in the scents of different animals that desperately ran from you already, your presence already disrupting the peace of the forest simply by being there.

… a little doe was nearby.

Your head snapped in her direction. Skin that was still rotting off you flying off from the sheer force of your head. You leaned low, head nearly touching the floor of the forest, stalking towards her direction.

Your breathing was shallow, antlers lightly scraping the branches above you. Slowly, the doe came into view, lightly munching away on grass and flowers in the moonlight. Tan fur flowed in the wind, ears twitching and nose sniffing.

She was beautiful.

When you came into the clearing, her head perked up immediately, looking at you. You huffed and stayed low, tail wagging behind you in wait. She stared for a moment longer before quietly diving back down into her meal. If you had lips, you would’ve smiled.

You continued to crawl forward, the doe no longer caring about your being there, caring only for the flowers she feasted on. You finally came to a point where she was only a few feet away, her scent searing into your nose, making your already shallow breathing harder.

You stalled, letting the wind brush through your fur, before you strike. And the moment came.

You leapt from the ground, jaw crunching around her neck before she could make a noise. Blood licked your nostrils, splattering across your form as the sickening snap of her neck resounded through the forest.

Without hesitation you marred her pure flesh with your tainted teeth. You tore through her skin to the meat, biting down on her shoulder. You shredded the muscle, chewing till bone then working your way down till nothing but the guts remained, to which you began to shift back.

Your body was still covered in the sticky blood. You made sure all your clothes shifted with you, counting the layers in your head. With a nod you whipped out your wand and whispered a spell, the remaining guts and bone bunching themselves together. With the small satchel in hand, you scooped up the remains and began the trek back to the house, moon hanging in the sky, the only witness to your brutality.

You went the way you came once entering the establishment, steps light and airy. You made it to your room in record time, waltzing into the bathroom and hiding your cloak and boots in the back, near the safe. You removed the pouch from a pocket and set on the sink as you washed up, a quick shower rising you of your sin. You and the pouch made your way into the bedroom and the pouch made its way into a small drawer in your nightstand, a chilling spell placed over it as you snuggled up in the side sheet, satin pajamas hugging your figure.

It was only a few hours you slept, rising when the suns rays had just barely touched the surface of the world. You rose with no hesitation, wide awake almost immediately. You rushed to the bathroom and began your morning ritual, having picked up some tips from Vil as the years went by. Face creams and masks, makeup of all types. You’d gotten so good that you knew you could rush with no restraint.

You had more than enough time before school started, hell, you knew you were most likely one of the only people awake. But it was for a purpose.

You needed to be on the good side of the teachers above all.

You may have only been employed with Crewl, but throughout your day, you mostly only be speaking and seeing the teachers. Rushing to your drawer - without changing. There was no need right now - you took out what was left of the doe. You slipped on some fuzzy slippers and rushed down the halls, again, missing all creaky floorboards and sniffing the air, following the smell of herbs and coffee in the mansion.

You made it to the kitchen without trouble, opening the pouch and feeling around in the pouch, removing the intestines.

Sausage was on the menu this morning. You hoped no one was a vegan.

It was easy to begin cooking. Vil loved your cooking. No one could do it right like you, he constantly said. Once more, you were fast and effective, starting the coffee maker. You also started some eggs and hash browns, biscuits and chopping fruit.

You multitasked, buttering the biscuits and flipping eggs, making both sunny side up - a personal favorite for you - and scrambled. As you took the hash browns out, you heard shuffling behind you, as well as the meowing of a cat.

… Can cats eat sausage?

You turned around and met the gaze of an older man with greying hair and a black cat around his shoulders.

Mozus Trein… and his cat, Lucius.

“I assume you are Crewl’s new assistant?” Short sweet and strait to the point. You simply nodded, taking the fresh made sausage out the pan and letting it cool off to the side. With a step, you took the cup you placed from under the coffee machine, turning back to him.

“Do you like anything in your coffee? Or do you prefer it black? Or, would you prefer anything else?” Lucius jumped off from the older man’s shoulders onto the island counter, him taking a seat and crossing his legs. You noted he was fully dressed for the day, despite it barely being six am.

“Milk and two sugars, thank you.” He hummed. The glanced away before turning back. “And would you mind grabbing the paper? We get it delivered, should be at the door by now.” You nodded and took off, not looking back.

Now that it was light out, you took your time to examine the halls a bit more thoroughly. Paintings lined the walls, each of different landscapes that painted the world of Twisted Wonderland.

The most prominent being - of course - the seven lands in which The Great Seven all hail from.

The Queendom of Roses, Sunset Savana, the Coral Sea, the Scalding Sands, Briar Valley, and others.

Each portrait was lifelike. Each snowflake glinting back at you and each thorn looking as though you’d cut yourself if you poked at it. You could see each individual grain of sand and scale on a fish. It was impressive.

Finally making it to the front once more, you were met with a man who was getting ready to head out. He had dreads and was wearing something akin to a suit, though a waiter’s apron was tired to his waist. You had come from behind, so hearing you he turned, and you also saw he had white paint streaked across his skin.

“Now, who may you be?” He asked, you staring becoming blatant. Your eyes didn’t move from analyzing him, grunting. After another moment of silence and the man seemingly starting to sweat, you hummed, moving to the front door and throwing it open. You quietly picked up the newspaper and turned back to him.

“Crewl’s new assistant, (Y/n).” Was all you said, though you kept staring. After another moment of silence, he seemed to note that you were waiting for him to introduce himself.

“Well then uh… names Sam. I run Mr. S’s Mystery Shop. Pop by if you’re in the need for anything..?” He drew off as he watched you walk away, back in the direction of the kitchen.

“What a weird kid…”

Your steps once more echoed in the halls as you re-entered the kitchen, seeing that Mozus had helped himself and served himself up a plate. Before you could announce yourself, however, a large hand clapped itself on your back, making you stumble forward.

Without a word, you fell face first onto the floor, newspaper still in hand.

Still, quiet silence followed.

“Uh… you okay, kid?” Your grunted, still lying on the floor. A hand, the same one you guessed, grabbed you by the scruff of your sleep shirt and yanked you upward, you still like a kitten. When you were dropped back onto your feet, you turned and found the PE teacher, Ashton Vargas.

You nodded at him before he could speak and wondered over to Mozus, who was watching the whole interaction with little care. You gently placed the newspaper in front of him and he thanked you with a nod, Lucius meowing at you.

You then faced Ashton, holding a hand out. He grasped it and squeezed - though you’re sure it was unintentional - and shook it with vigor.

“Sorry ‘bout that! Ashton Vargas, PE teacher here at Night Raven. You?” You nodded in kind.

“(Y/n), Crewl’s new assistant. Pleasure.” Your face remained blank through the interaction, gaze breaking for a moment only to look at the breakfast you’d prepared, then looking back at the rather built man.

“I’ve prepared a breakfast if you-“ “I’m good, thank you.” Your eyebrow raised in question and the man laughed, making Mozus groan.

“I already ate about… twelve-dozen eggs this morning during my pre-school work out!” Your eye twitched at the thought. Due to your biology, you could ingest raw egg no problem, but to eat twenty-four strait raw eggs just sounds… you couldn’t do it. So instead, you simply nodded and walked over to the food, grabbing a bit of everything before looking back at the two.

“Where is Mr. Crewl’s room?” Ashton blinked before nodding towards the door.

“Just down the hall, he’s closest to the kitchen actually. Shocked he ain’t out here yet honestly.” You nodded and made your way out of the kitchen, walking steadily down the hall, balancing the plate on one hand.

Walking down the hall, you kept an eye out for the correct door. You didn’t want to open a closet or anything. But suddenly, someone crashed into you. Crewel fell from the impact, your form still standing strong with the plate of food unmoving.

“Where were you?!? I’ve been searching for ten minutes now!! Come come, time is waisting and I still have to put you in uniform.” You tilted your head as Crewel stood back up, walked behind you and began to push you to what you could only assume was his room.

“Uniform?” You questioned. Crewel sighed, but smirked as well. “Yes uniform. A little something a threw into our contract at the very end. You don’t mind, do you?” You grunted. Should’ve seen something akin to this coming, you supposed, but you couldn’t loose this. You hadn’t even seen Vil yet.

“Fine.” “Good, now, come along.” And off you both went, to gain your new uniform.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍩🍮🍨୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

The uniform wasn’t too bad. A fluffy tailcoat - with coat tails, not real ones - that went to the backs of your knees, a vest that was the reverse of his in terms of color, black dress pants and black dress shoes. You looked nice, in your own opinion at least.

As you looked yourself over in the mirror, Crewel sat at his desk, munching away on the breakfast you made.

“This is pretty good...” He mumbled as he watched you twirl in the mirror, taking in every part of your new outfit. He hummed, placing his fork down and grabbing his teacher pointer and standing.

“Come on, let’s not waste anymore time. I’ll give you a quick rundown of some things I’ll need you to do at the school, but as I said, we will fully go over your duties during the weekend. Understood?” You nodded and walked out with him, patting your body and sighing when you felt your ‘wand’ in your picket.

And off you both went. Walking the trail towards the gate that would lead to NRC.

To your new life for the next couple of months, maybe even years.

Something inside you, your heart perhaps, beat rapidly at the thought of seeing Vil again, even if just for a class period. You were… excited?

Yes, excited.

It was time to begin. To get your Vil back.

໒꒰ྀི˶˙Ⱉ˙˶꒱ྀིა Author’s note : Nah I gotta split this motherfucker up because what in the hell-

I’m so fucking tied but I wanna continue this but it’s already so fucking long- eh I’ll finish it later have this-

Love you guys <3

[heartthrobin]

round and round the garden (1)

sam winchester x fairy!reader

wc: 4.7k

warnings: soulmate!au (partners share scars), fem!reader, limited use of y/n, timeline is foggy but we’re working with s8 sam lookwise, reader is a creature, implied age gap (reader is early 20's), reader is uber tooth-rottingly sweet, highkey dumbification of sam winchester, references to thick reader (everyone cheered) but can be ignored, dean being dean, destiel is canon, animals, canon warnings (child kidnapping, violence ect.)

an: literally just wanted to write something fantastical and cutesy so here it is !!! this is part 1 of (probably) 4 :))) let me know if you want to be added to taglist <33 love y’all

summary: the case was bizarre, but no aspect more so than the “witch” at the end of town with the prettiest goddamn face Sam had ever seen and the long pink scar up her arm that matched his own.

part two part three part four

The house wasn't big.

If Sam could really call it a house.

It was more like a cottage, reminding him of children's illustrated stories he never had the childhood to read. Of picnics and fireplaces.

The cottage dazzled like a water colour painting: green shrubbery seeping into every corner of the canvas, with lush pink and orange and yellow fruit speckled across the page.

Creeping around it, wrapping it's branches over the house like an arboreal hug: was the largest tree Sam had ever laid eyes on. The trunk was almost as wide as the street they were parked on and it's leaves draped low over the windows peeking from inside. It stood like a monolith against the backdrop of the forest leering behind it.

The line of trees were inched back just enough to almost convince Sam that this tree, the one engulfing your cottage, made them nervous.

A stone footpath lead to the door.

"I-- looked away for just one minute ..." the woman was inconsolable.

Jenny Perez sobbed into the arm of her couch. Her sister leered in the doorway.

Sam and Dean watched her from the couch over.

"Ma'am," Sam stepped carefully. "We know this isn't easy, but are you sure you didn't see anything in the moments leading up to Manny's disappearance? Even anything ... strange?"

Washington State. Five kids. Two months. Missing.

Each snatched out their gardens where they played.

Sam and Dean had been in Illinois on the tail end of a wendigo hunt when the news of a sixth missing kid blew far enough across the country to land a tiny column on the front page of the Chicago Tribune.

Manny Perez (7) was taken from the backyard of his home this past Sunday night in Fernglade, Washington.

His mother, Jenny Perez (38), said she heard rustling in the bushes behind their house and her son laughing before going to take some food out of the oven. When she returned, her son had disappeared.

Sure it was a terrible story, but regardless, it didn’t arouse enough suspicion out of either Winchester to make it their problem. To convince them it was anything more than a 53-year old psychopath holding children in his basement.

Not until Dean found the entry. The one in John’s journal.

He’d been looking for a passage he swore was in there on wendigo hunting seasons when the ruggedly clipped article fell from between it’s pages.

“Sammy …” he’d flashed him the clip, “look familiar?”

Several articles actually: eight kids missing from the little town of Fernglade. Every Autumn, every twenty years out of some poor mother’s backyard. John had only scribbled one lonely note amongst all the newspaper staining: THE TREES

“No! It’s like I told the police … I just heard him laughing.” Her voice came out as broken shards between the heaving and the hands clutched close against her chest. “I thought I heard another child’s voice, but that was—”

“Jenny, enough.” Sandra Perez piped up from the doorway, clearly enflamed. She turned from her sister to face the brothers on the couch. “What my sister is refusing to consider, and what the rest of us know to be true, is that Manny was taken by that witch.”

“Hermana … she isn’t a witch—”

“A witch?” Dean’s calibre had twisted to intrigued.

“She lives on the edge of town. By the forestline.” Sandra’s arms were crossed tightly. “Jenny always used to let Manny go afternoons out there, God knows why—”

“A lot of the neighbourhood kids did too.” Jenny interrupted, desperate in her approach: hands outdrawn. “She’s not a … a witch. She’s a bit strange but the kids loved her and she was kind to them—”

“And now look. All those children are gone, Jenny.”

The woman deflated back into the couch again, her tear-soaked sleeves came up to find purchase against her cheeks again. They muffled a sob.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. Dean shrugged with a look that said “maybe?”

Dean turned to the sister, “What has you convinced that this woman is a witch?”

Sanda Perez looked affronted by the question. Like Dean had slapped her clean across the face.

“Oh! Well she’s … there’s always things burning at that house and people have said they’ve heard … like, chanting at night over there.” She wrapped her arms tighter around herself, grasping at the straws of gossip that had dripped down to her willing ears. “And her house is strange and she’s always in the forest at night when it’s unsafe. Who knows what … what rituals she’s doing out there!”

The brothers nodded. “Sure. Would you mind giving us that address?”

Now that Sam was faced with the house, getting his first view through the grimy passenger side window, he’d stray from the description of “strange”. He might have agreed that “enchanted” or “mystical” fit the description of the cottage better if he didn’t resent the magic clichés.

Dean’s finger pressed into the open journal page, tapping along the stained ink of John’s nearly illegible handwriting. THE TREES.

“Now that’s a tree if I’ve ever laid eyes on one.” He leaned over so his eyes could find the top of the tree from under the cover of the car.

Sam nodded. Something felt off when he watched the house, his stomach was twisting up past his other organs in his throat.

“I don’t know man …” his finger reached up to tug at the collar choking him at the neck. Maybe the fed suit wasn’t helping. “Something feels weird about this place.”

Dean scoffed loudly. He picked up the takeaway cup from the centre console, coffee long cold, and slugged the last of it down in one long sip. He surfaced again, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Every place we go to is weird.” It was clear he didn’t share the sentiment. “I’m sure we’ve faced worse.”

He unbuckled his seatbelt.

“Well, come on. Let’s go meet this witch.”

Despite Sandra Perez’ less than convincing account of the “witch” at the end of town, it was still worth a visit to know who the townsfolk had decided was guilty in the matter of several counts of child kidnapping. How evil and vile of a person they must be.  

The air was crisp outside the car and the further they ventured up the path, the more delightful the aroma became. There was a thin string of smoke curling from behind the house, it carried a warm woody scent and the tussles of flowers lining the bannister of the porch was making Sam’s head spin happily. He managed a small smile.

“Nice garden.” He whispered offhand.

Dean seemed unconvinced, eyes flashing over the shrubbery with skepticism. “Yeah, well don’t get too close to anything. And don’t touch anything either.”

The door was tall, intimidating and clearly made of some fancy wood. It was slot between the white brick on the face of the house. The feeling from the car had only tripled on the walk up and Sam had his hand against his stomach. He could feel his blood rushing past his ears.

“Dean, I’m really not sure about—”

Dean’s fist connected with the door three times. Curt and professional, like a fed’s would be.  

There was an obvious shuffle behind the door, by then each beat of Sam’s heart was like a foghorn against his vibrating ribs and for a moment he was sure he was going to be sick.

Suddenly, there was sniffle by the foot of the door. A dog? And a voice, caressed gently by a giggle, ushering the animal away.

Sam’s brain was swelling too large for his head, the doorknob creaked from inside – his fists grew ice cold – with a soft grunt, the door was pulled ajar …

It stopped.

With a smile that knocked the wind clean out of Sam’s lungs, you greeted. “Good morning, gentlemen.”

Warmth flooded back in to his palms and the thumping of his head cooled to a dizzy buzz. The nausea subsided to a hot bubbling.

Your frame took up the doorway. It seemed to fizzle around the edges, glimmering like light off a rippling pond.

Sam’s eyes slipped down your body like warm coffee down his throat. Your face was gentle, eyes round and wet beneath a set of suffocatingly black eyelashes. Wide-set thighs rippled all the way down to soft calves and pink painted toenails.

A cream crochet top reached over the expanse of your shoulders, sloping down where the rugged sleeve edges hung off your palms, a sparkling green skirt flirted at the top of your thighs. It’s silk ruffles shivered with your every breath.

If he was momentarily able to lift his eyes from you, which he most definitely was not, maybe he'd notice how Dean didn't seem even moderately as amazed as he was. That might have been the first sign if he did.

"Good afternoon ma'am, I'm agent Alice. This is my partner agent Cooper." Dean dug out the FBI identification from his jacket pocket, flashing it casually. "We just have a few questions regarding some recent--"

"Oh please," you waved your hand airily, "No need for the semantics. I've been expecting you, lunch is out in the garden."

The sound of your voice was sending waves of warmth through his stomach. Like he was sipping hot cocoa at your every syllable.

The ID in Dean's hand wobbled, his face clenched in confusion. "I-- sorry, what?"

In the shift of Sam’s gaze back up your form, he came to find your eyes set on his.

You smiled again. His tongue felt heavy and half-formed words gurgled at the back of his throat: begging to be spat out.

“I-I’m–“

“I know who you are.”

Your eyes flickered back to Dean and Sam felt hollow at the loss of their warmth.

“Not every day you have the Winchesters at your door, now is it.” You finished, stepping aside to allow them in.

“You know who we are?” Dean’s cadence dropped warily, clearly spearheading the conversation where Sam was finding difficulty. But your figure was already disappearing into the darkness of the house.

Despite his sceptic tone, Dean stepped in quickly after you. Sam trailed behind.

The cottage was warm. At least that was Sam’s first thought.

It was quickly ribbed out the way by the sheer visual of the interior.

There wasn’t a single blank wall or spot on the floor uncovered by carpetry.

Rows of paintings and stacks of photographs lined the space between wooden countertops and cherry red couches. Persian rugs and indoor plants spilled from a technicolour mirage of pots.

Desks were cluttered with books, paint supplies abandoned still wet. A dusty chandelier.

But more striking than the portraits and the vinyls and the rugs and the botany textbooks, were the creatures.

“Just watch for Goose,” she waved vaguely at a moving creature that was quickly nearing Sam’s feet, avoiding Dean’s question. “He won’t bite but he will try lick you—”

For a moment, Sam connected that this had to be the dog at the door. But the dog, Goose, was hardly a dog at all. Only once he was licking a stripe up the strip of bare skin at Sam’s ankle did he realize that … it can’t … that’s a fox.

And that wasn’t the start nor the end of it.

Draped over the couch was the largest snake Sam had ever seen. It was curled into the red frilled cushion, fast asleep. On the countertop, two ferrets were dipping in and out of sight behind the fruit basket. A gecko bathing in a sunspot on top of a stack of books. A flock of white budgies perched between the crystals on the chandelier. Three pairs of brown twitching rabbit ears peeking out from a basket of laundry.

It seemed Dean had also taken stark notice of the menagerie that was the cottage, so distracted that he’d forgone mentioning that his question had gone unanswered.

His finger pointed weakly at down at the white boa on the couch. “That’s … that’s a snake.”

You laughed again and Sam was sure he could get drunk off the sound.

“Nothing gets past you boys, hey?”

You kept walking, motioning for them to follow through another arched door out into the garden behind the house.

“Her name is Lydia. She’ll come join us when she’s awake.”

“I sure as hell hope not …” But it was muttered and Sam gave Dean a stern look for his comment. You didn’t turn back.

The garden behind the house was impossibly even more beautiful than infront. Vines creeped up the outer walls, a lemon tree grew along the underside the of the bigger tree engulfing the house. Shrubs and bushes and stark purple flowers. Your whole patch of land seemed untouched by the fingertips of Autumn that was reaching over the rest of town.

In the middle of it all: sat a small white painted table. You’d lined it with sheer cloth and platters of pastries, sandwiches and cakes.

There were three chairs around it.

“Sit, sit, sit.” You were wringing your hands, a light waft of nervousness fluttering off you. “I didn’t know what exactly you hunters eat or don’t eat … so there’s a little bit of everything–“

“Oh, hell yes.” Dean’s initial skepticism seemed to dissolve at the prospect of food and his ass was in the chair before you had chance to say anything else.

You seemed pleased. 

Sam’s face flushed red. He remembered that he still has yet to say a full sentence in your presence.

“Uh,” you turned to the sound of his voice. “T-Thank you.”

The speckles of light through the canopy of the trees drifted over your face. Sam had never noticed that on a person before.

He’d also never paid much mind to people’s hair. Not before yours. It looked like something ripped off the cover of a fashion magazine from the 70’s.

“You’re so very welcome.” Your voice was kind. “It’s more of an indulgence. I haven’t had guests in a while, not since …”

It faded off. “Well, not for a while.”

Jewels jingled around your neck, crystals wrapped in black string: dipping low down between the swell of your breasts that was just visible above the hemline—

Sam quickly swung his gaze back to the table where Dean was scarfing down an icing covered puff pastry.  

His brother was making wildly animalistic groans over the taste. For a moment, it was the only noise filling the space against the shiver of the trees in the midday gust.

Sam didn’t know where to find his tongue. He couldn’t get himself to step away from you.

“Coffee or tea, boys? I have it inside warming on the stove.”

“Coffee.” Dean responded blurrily around a mouthful. You turned to Sam again.

“I—just, I’m—coffee is good.”

You nodded. “Sure. I’ll be right back.”

He watched your figure retreat towards the house. The nausea was bubbling back into view.

“This is some fucking good cake.”

When your frame had disappeared back into the house, Sam turned back to his brother who was cleaning remnants of a second pastry off his plate with a tiny fork.

He quickly neared him, pulling out the chair across from him hastily.

“Dean, have you even considered the possibility that this food is poisened?”

Dean’s face twisted to a grimace, but only for a fraction of a moment before shrugging. “Hey. Worse ways to go.”

But Sam was shaking his head. The dizziness had returned.

“Do you feel sick? I’ve been feeling like … like off since we first step foot on this property.”

Dean watched him with hooded eyes, gaze flickering between his brother and the sliced ham and cucumber sandwich resting at the top of a nearby plate.

“Is that your explanation for the fool you’ve been acting since we walked in the door?”

Looking up from wiping sweaty palms down his trousers, Sam stalled. “W-What?”

“Exactly.” Dean gave in, reaching for the sandwich. “You haven’t been able to string three fucking words together since we got here.”

“I—she’s a witch, Dean.” Sam pressed. “I think she put like a … a spell o-or a hex on me!”

“She couldn’t have done that in the five minutes we’ve been here.”

“She knows who we are, she could’ve hexed our motel room.”

“Looks to me like someone has a crush—"

But Sam’s face was earnest. And maybe turning a little cherry red at the accusation. “Dean.”

Dean huffed. “Fine, fine, we’ll interrogate her and see what she says. If she’s a witch, we just gank her. Problem solved.”

“But—”

The sound of footsteps were reapproaching. The brothers fell quiet.

“Here we go.” Ringed fingers clinked against the side of an ornate red pot where you leaned over Sam’s shoulder. Steaming black liquid slipped into the teacup resting against it’s matching saucer in front of him.

His breath caught in his throat.

“You like the sandwiches?” You aimed at Dean.

He nodded, “Yeah, great stuff.”

You rounded the table and Sam worked hard not to make eye contact with the expanse of thigh peeking up at him as you moved.

“I have to admit, I really wish you’d brought along your angel.” You poured into Dean’s cup.

His head flickered up at the comment. “Cas?”

“I’m a big fan of his.” Your voice buzzed with eagerness, “The whole rebellion against heaven thing. I thought it was really cool.”

To label Cas "his angel" was a fair assessment. The matching fleshy red handprint on each of their chests had confirmed it a long time ago.

Dean nodded slowly. “I’ll be sure to pass on the message.”

You smiled and it made Sam’s stomach contents bubble again. He was starting to worry that maybe you really had cursed him.

The chair grumbled against the grass where you pulled it out. “Right, so I’m assuming you guys are here to question me? Kill me maybe?”

Awkward silence fell. Dean and Sam exchanged glances.

“Uh—”

“Well—”

Between another bout of laughter, you poured your own cup. “Don’t worry. You’re not the first, probably not the last.”

Dean took a long enough break from scarfing food down his gullet to look up at you. “Yes. To question you, for now.”

You nodded. Eyes finding Sam.

“What about you, Bigfoot? Here to kill me?”

Sam reached deep to find his voice again. “Uhm, just a few questions.”

Smiling, you sat further back in your chair. “Great. Go right ahead then.”

“How do you know who we are?” Dean leapt right in, repeating what had been previously left unanswered.

“Someone like me’s gotta know when hunters are moving in and out of town, don’t you think?”

“Someone like you?”

“Yep.” You nodded, seemingly unwilling to offer more than what was being asked.

Sam leaned forward. “So you are a witch then.”

You chuckled under your breath, leaning forward to stir your coffee as if he hadn’t tossed an accusation in your lap. “I see you’ve been speaking to people around town.”

Nobody answered.

So you filled the space again.

“No, I’m not a witch. Slimy bunch them, but then again, I guess you’re not too far off.”

“So what then?” Dean’s voice held that rough edge that dripped through when he was growing annoyed.

Grinning, you shrugged.

A chime, like a ringing sleigh bell, filled the space. Sam’s eyes were drawn just past your shoulders where a tall pair of opal pearlescent wings had appeared behind your head.

“No fucking way.”

Sam choked around nothing. There was a long pause, interjected with a long stare between the brothers across your table.

“Fairies don’t … they don’t exist.”

You reached for a sip of your coffee, looking unperterbed. “Dryad, actually. Give it a google.”

The wings shivered against the movement.

"So what," Dean's glare was heated over the set table, "Evil fairy godmother is that it? What did you do with the kids, eat them?"

For the first time since he'd lain eyes on you, Sam could make out a shine of something unkind crossed your features.

You set the teacup down slowly and your eyes met Dean's with the same heat of the sun glaring down into the garden: "I had nothing to do with those children going missing. I loved them."

Sam wanted to interject, but his chest was tight ... a straining grip of guilt was tightening his throat. She's cursed me, she's cursed me, she's cursed me--

"A couple of the parents said their kids used to come visit around here. Visit the witch at the end of town. That true?"

Gathering a breath and another sip from your cup, your face distorted from indignant to disconsolate. Sam could feel the tightness in his chest ebbing.

You nodded.

"Yes. That's true." From behind your seat, accurate to your predictions, the wide white outline of a snake-- of Lydia-- was creeping through the grass.

Dean's eyes fixated on her approach, all way up until she bound the foot of your chair up into your chest. She rested her head there like a lap dog. You stroked a hand over her head like one too.

"They used to come visit," you continued, "after school some days. I'd make them tea and cupcakes, and they'd come to visit my animals. I taught them about the trees."

A fond look had crawled onto your features. There was another tinkle of bells and the wings behind you disappeared.

"Now nobody comes. Parents are scared. They think I'm ... hiding their children in my basement or something."

Dean surveyed you for a few moments, seemingly deciding you were of little enough danger to dare another piece of white chocolate cake.

"Yeah, you can spare us the pity party sister." He muttered around his fork.

Sam sent him a short lived look. "Well, then if it's not you--"

"We haven't yet decided that it's not you, just by the way."

"--then what is it? Surely you have some idea?"

Lydia was curling up around the back of your neck now. Your eyes found Sam's - he momentarily felt like he was melting - and you sighed softly.

"I've heard some things, nothing definitive." Your hand stroked over the section of the snake still draped in your lap. "It's coming from the forest."

"And you heard this where?" Dean's tone dripped with skepticism.

"The trees told me."

Where Sam was sure would normally be laughter echoing from his older brother, instead, his hand stilled over his plate.

THE TREES.

His eyes flickered to Sam. It was quiet. Dad's journal.

"You can speak to trees?" Sam question was clement.

You seemed refreshed by it, watching him for a moment before nodding. "Part of the gig."

Another silence fell. You sighed. Sam could smell Dean's thoughts from across the table.

"Let me get this straight." Dean cleared his throat, leaning forward in his chair. "You're the garden fairy and you're telling us that the trees have something to do with this? Not really working your best angle here, if you ask me."

The garden rustled again. A white duck emerged from one of the bushes followed by a string of ducklings. You shrugged tiredly.

"I'm trying to help." Your voice was soft. Melancholic.

Your hand reached for a strawberry sitting on a tower of others just past Sam's cup, crocheted sleeve slipping back to your elbow to reveal the scores of golden, beaded jangling bracelets and--

Sam's blood ran all the way icy, turning to a slurry in his veins.

"Care to explain that?" Dean's voice came passing over him as if said from the end of a very long corridor.

Twisting your wrist to look, you shook your head. You grabbed the strawberry and brought it to your lips with the other hand.

"Oh, this?" A jagged scar peaked from the edge of your elbow up into the palm of your hand. It shone pink with marred tissue. "You think I got this from kidnapping children?"

Sam's heartbeat was ringing in his ears, he gripped the edge of his seat with whitened knuckles. His eyes chased up to the side of your face, finding the little spot by your eyebrow where ... the end was split with the mark of the edge of a blade in a fight gone wrong.

"Not mine unfortunately." You continued, dissolving the strawberry to pieces between your lips. "My other half's. I swear they're a bull-fighter or a boxer the way they bang me up."

Somewhere a bird chirped. There was a turbo washing machine in Sam's stomach on full blast and he thought he was about to be sick. At the same time, he was washed over by a feeling of inexplicable warmth. Like a cooled stream of bubbling champagne down his gullet. Like how they always said it might feel. Only now he could put a feeling to the talk.

"Listen, if we find out you've got something to do--"

"D-Dean," Sam's voice tripped over pebbles, "We should go."

The hands now released from the edges of his seat were shaking and his palms were scorching.

Dean looked at him, confusion tugging on his hardened face. Sam thought he might argue, but he nodded slowly. Maybe he noticed his brother's red, sweating face. Again, maybe he was just bored.

"Uh, yeah." He started to push the chair out, but his eyes drifted on a ham and cheese sandwich lingering on his plate. He hesitated.

You jumped up quickly, wrapping Lydia like a scarf, all in the same motion. "I've got a box you can take some food, if you'd like? I could just run inside--?"

"That would be great--"

"No, that's really not necessary--"

Your eyes drifted to Sam, waving him off with a smile that buckled his knees now that he was standing. "Don't be ridiculous. Let me go grab them."

Figure disappearing into the house again, Dean surveyed his brother. "What's up with you?"

Sam didn't answer. In fact he didn't say anything at all until you'd returned, Dean had stuffed as many sandwiches and pieces of cake he could fit into the tupperware and you packed Sam a box against his will.

Not as soon as he would have liked, they were standing at the door again out on the porch front.

"We'll be back, probably." Dean quipped officially, but he lifted the box of food all the same. "Oh, and uh ... thanks."

You were smiling again. "Sure. You know where to find me."

Not for the first time that morning, Sam was struggling to peel his gaze off your face. Your eyes were a swirling mess of colour and the light was flickering off of them at him.

"I'll see you around, Bigfoot."

Your shoulder peeked at him from under your top, a deep red welt matching his own left collarbone.

He nodded curtly, turning back down the path even before his brother. His collar was sticky against his neck and his brain was firing off signals the whole walk down, it begged him to turn back.

Dean jogged to catch up.

"What the hell is going--"

Sam slammed the door on him, crashing into the passenger's seat. He began ripping off his suit, the black jacket flung mindlessly into the back of the Impala.

By the time Dean fell into the driver's seat he was already fighting against the button securing the shirt to his right wrist.

"You have been acting all sorts of crazy since we got here, Sammy. What the hell is--"

Sam pried back the sleeve: bunching it at his elbow. He stuck his arm out to his brother.

Dean glanced between his face and his arm only once before pausing. The long jagged scar from his palm up his arm was impossible to miss. The one that sat identical on your arm.

"Oh."

Sam was sucking in deep breaths through his nose.

Dean's eyebrows rose into his hairline. He let off a disbelieving laugh.

"Well, I'll be damned."

-

taglist:

@firstsnowdrop @writerofthewinds @aria1245 @nyx22-blogs @lucysaloser @britishscum @pookiesnatcher @music-keep-me-sane @cryptid-with-a-cane @sammys-concubine @i-live-for-fantasy @grimbunnie @crystalreedwifey

[pigtailedgirl]

Halloween/Horror Due South Recs

Here's a couple fan-fiction recs to set the mood.

I want it for my own (570 words) by belmanoir Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: due South Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Benton Fraser/Ray Vecchio Characters: Benton Fraser, Ray Vecchio Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Fraser POV Summary: Fraser and Vecchio are going to the precinct's Halloween party as each other.

Yes they would absolutely be horny dressing as each other! I live for the idea of the 27th's non-surprise.

Autumn Scene (224 words) by dsa_archivist Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: due South Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Additional Tags: Humor, Halloween Summary: Dief goes on a rampage.

Oh Diefenbaker!

Are You Out There Somewhere (16829 words) by dsa_archivist Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: due South Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Benton Fraser/Ray Vecchio Additional Tags: Drama, Romance, Halloween, Slash

incredibly sad and spooky idea for Ray backstory.

Shadow on the Stone (15756 words) by gardnerhill Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: due South Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Relationships: Benton Fraser & Ray Vecchio Characters: Benton Fraser, Ray Vecchio, Francesca Vecchio, Harding Welsh, Jerome, Diefenbaker, Jesse Additional Tags: Horror, Body Horror, Wendigo, Monsters, Id Fic, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies Summary: Wendigo's coming.

Absolutely fantastic fic in every way and creepy as all fuck.

[thsillystringbeanscribbler]

Bunny Slippers

Summary: While on the hunt for their dad the Winchester brothers are encouraged by Bobby to reach out to an old hunting buddy of John and Bobby. The trip leads to meeting not only a rugged hunter which is a missing puzzle piece to their dad's disappearance but also got to make the acquaintance of his lovely daughter.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader [ OC ]

Warnings: mostly fluff with a sprinkle of possible violence or angst, maybe slow burn (i'm not too sure)

Word Count: 4,685 words

Author's Note: This is my first ever fanfiction. I dont really know how to write y/n so oc is all you're getting. I recently discovered the world of Supernatural and I am in love. This story takes place during Season 1, it doesn't really follow the story line and there might be some lore in accuracies. Please be kind, and I hope you enjoy my little story.

image from Pinterest

With Bobby's wise counsel and the elusive hints scattered in John's journal, he implored the brothers to seek out Rob Blackburn, who could potentially steer them toward John. Rob, as Bobby explained, wasn't just an ally; he was a long-time comrade of both John Winchester and Bobby, often accompanying them on perilous hunts. Armed with this knowledge, Sam and Dean embarked on their journey to Boston in the trusty Impala. Dean took the wheel, immersing himself in the thumping beats of rock and roll, while Sam, map in hand, navigated the labyrinth of roads leading to Robert Blackburn's whereabouts. The pages of John's journal rustled in the background, revealing his own trek to Massachusetts, where he had joined forces with Rob to confront a formidable Wendigo.

In the early autumn morning, the Impala turned down the street of the Blackburn home, the epitome of historical charm found in Boston. The townhouse stands out with its red brick facade, large curved windows adorned with black shutters, and stately black entrance doors. Wrought iron railings line the stone steps leading up to the front doors, and mature trees along the sidewalk cast dappled shadows onto the cobblestone street. The vehicle comes to a halt in front of the winsome townhouse, with its elegance further accentuated by the cascading wisteria, lending a touch of natural beauty to the urban setting.

Dean cut the engine, his gaze shifting from the Blackburn residence to his brother. Sam, peering at Dean, broke the silence with his characteristic intensity. "So, think you're ready to face whatever's in there?" he asked, his voice tinged with both concern and determination.

Dean responded with his usual bravado, a smirk playing on his lips. "Ready? Sam, I was born ready. Let's do this." His tone was confident, almost playful, yet underscored by the seriousness of their mission.

Moving in unison, the brothers climbed the steps to the Blackburn residence. A silent exchange of resolve passed between them as Dean turned to face the ominous black door. He pressed the doorbell, and for a moment, there was only silence. Impatient, Dean began to knock forcefully, intent on getting an answer.

Before he could knock again, hurried footsteps approached from inside. The door swung open to reveal a petite, dishevelled woman. Her light auburn curls were hastily tied atop her head, and her sleepy green eyes, magnified by tortoise-rimmed circle glasses, blinked at the unexpected visitors. Dean's gaze travelled over her, taking in the oversized Van Halen band t-shirt, the long flannel Batman pyjama pants tucked into mismatched white tube socks, and the pink bunny slippers, all indicating she had indeed just rolled out of bed.

The woman, stifling a yawn and crossing her arms defensively, addressed them with a groggy, gravelly voice. "Hello? Can I help you with something?" Her sleepy demeanour contrasted sharply with the urgency of their visit. 

The faintest hint of a smile played across Dean's face, a touch of warmth amidst the crisp Boston morning. The dishevelled stranger before him, a haphazardly charming vision in her comic book pyjamas and mismatched socks, sparked a flicker of amusement in his hunter's gaze. She couldn't be much older than Sam, he mused, who was barely past the threshold of twenty-two himself.

Clearing his throat, Dean straightened up a little, his eyes locking onto hers with an earnest steadiness. "Morning," he started, his voice carrying the signature gravel of a man used to long nights and the roar of a V8 engine. "Sorry to wake you, but we're looking for Rob Blackburn. The thing is," he paused, the weight of their search momentarily tightening his features, "our dad was working a case with him, and now... Dad's gone off the grid. We were hoping Rob might have some answers."

He watched her closely, not just for her response, but for any sign, any tell that might unravel the mystery of their father's whereabouts.

The woman's head tilted slightly, causing a few untamed curls to escape her hastily made morning bun. She squinted at Dean, her eyebrows knitting together in a puzzled frown. As her gaze shifted between Dean and Sam, a hint of wariness crept into her expression. "Sorry," she murmured, her free hand sliding under her glasses to rub at a sleepy eye. "But who are you guys, exactly?" she asked, her lips pursed slightly, clearly waiting for an explanation.

Dean met her gaze squarely, his expression a blend of seriousness and charm. "Name's Dean and this towering figure here is my brother, Sam," he said with a hint of a smirk. "We're here looking for Rob. You might know him through our dad, John Winchester. They go way back, and it's kind of important we talk to him." His tone carried the urgency of their quest, yet remained respectful, acknowledging the oddity of their early morning visit.

Her eyebrows lifted from their puzzled frown as the name John Winchester sparked a flicker of recognition in her features. Hesitating for a moment, she leaned slightly forward, peering past Sam and Dean to scan the street. Her green eyes settled on the shiny black Chevy parked in front of the house. Dean, noticing her gaze, followed it to the Impala.

With his trademark flirtatious smile, Dean couldn't resist a playful comment. "Hey, if you're interested, I could show you what she's really capable of," he said, nodding towards the Impala. The woman's eyes snapped back to Dean, a blush creeping onto her cheeks. Realizing how his words might have sounded, Dean quickly clarified with a cheeky grin, "The Impala, I mean. A ride in the car."

She nodded silently, her cheeks now a deeper shade of red. A bit flustered, she stuttered, "Uh–" but then, meeting Sam's hazel eyes, she paused, took a deep breath, and regained her composure. "I'll be right back," she said before gently closing the door.

Dean left staring at the black door, perked up his ears as he heard her voice escalate inside, calling out, "Dad! The Winchesters are here!" After a brief silence, her voice rose again, more insistent this time, "DAD!"

Sam and Dean exchanged a look of surprise at the volume of her shout. The response came in the form of a deep, muffled reply from within. The door creaked open again, and the woman offered an awkward smile. "He'll be down so–"

Before she could finish, a tall, muscular man in plaid flannel pyjama pants and a simple grey t-shirt descended the stairs. He stood imposingly behind her, his voice deep and gravelly. "Mornin'," he greeted, eyeing the brothers. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Definitely John's boys," he observed as he extended his hand.

Dean grasped his hand firmly. "Dean," he introduced himself with a nod.

Sam followed suit, shaking Rob's hand. "Sam. It's good to meet you."

Rob's genuine smile broadened. "Rob. Nice to finally meet you boys. John's told me a lot about you two."

In the midst of the heartfelt introductions, Rob's daughter slipped out under her father's arm, who was now holding the door open. He quickly turned his head to call after her, "Jay, boil the water. We're gonna need some coffee."

Rob then stepped aside, inviting them in. "C'mon in," he said, glancing once more at the street as the brothers entered. "Damn, is that John's Impala?" he asked, intrigued.

Dean turned back to Rob, a hint of pride in his voice. "Actually, she's mine now. Dad left her to me. She's got more history and miles on her than most cars on the road. Runs like a dream, though." His words were laced with respect and a touch of nostalgia for both the car and his father.

The boys followed the barefoot Rob Blackburn into his living room. The space was a testament to a life well-lived and richly layered, a striking balance between the modern and the memorabilia of yesteryear. They stepped through the wooden archway, and Dean's gaze swept the room—a harmony of contemporary and eclectic tastes.

The living room was bathed in morning sunlight from a large, bay window framing the greenery and wisteria blossoms outside, its grandeur contrasted by the cozy array of furniture. A plush, dark green sofa accented with earth-toned pillows invited comfort and long conversations. Across the room, a pair of vintage armchairs stood guard, their fabric hinting at a past era. The walls were lined with towering bookshelves, a ladder poised as if in mid-ascent, suggesting a world of knowledge and stories just out of reach. In the center, a stately wooden coffee table bore the weight of books and vases, while a Persian rug beneath whispered tales of ancient craftsmanship.

Above the mantel, a flat-screen TV was mounted, an anachronism amid the classical vibe. The mantle itself was a gallery of personal history, with frames marching across its length like milestones. Dean's eyes traced the journey of the dishevelled girl named Jay through frozen moments: school plays, graduations, and candid laughter.

One photograph, in particular, seized Dean's attention, squeezing his heart with the force of a long-forgotten song. There, captured in the stillness of time, was a young woman with auburn curls, her arm casually draped over a youthful Mary Winchester. Beside her, a younger Rob stood with an easy stance, and on the other side, John Winchester's smile reached out, as bright and as real as if he were standing in the room with them.

Dean found his voice, roughened by the swell of memory. "You've got quite the place here, Rob. Feels like a home that's seen a lot of good times," he said, his eyes not leaving the photograph.

Rob, following Dean's gaze, nodded with a touch of nostalgia. "Yeah, it's been through a lot. Every piece has a story, especially those photos," he said, his voice softening. "That one there," he pointed to the photograph that held Dean's gaze, "was from a summer BBQ we had right after John got back from a tour. Good times indeed, Dean.”

With a comforting pat on Dean's shoulder, Rob motioned towards the dark green sofa. "Please, take a seat," he said in a voice that carried the warmth of a seasoned host. Sam was already lounging there, looking every bit the part of a man ready to delve into matters of gravity and ghosts. Rob's towering presence moved towards one of the vintage armchairs, his movements measured and graceful. He sank into the chair with the ease of a man in his own sanctuary.

Dean observed Rob, taking in the rugged features that spoke of a life lived much like their father's—on the road, but always returning home. The man sitting across from him had a face that bore the marks of laughter and squinting against the sun, a generous beard that was well kept but suggested it could tell stories of its own. His hair, though tousled from sleep, had the hint of waves, and the light caught the flecks of gray that ran through it like silver threads in a tapestry. There was a certain comfort in his ruggedness, an unspoken kinship that Dean recognized well.

Rob caught Dean's gaze and chuckled, a sound that seemed to reverberate around the room. "My apologies, if I'd known Johnny's boys would be showing up on my doorstep, I'd have made myself presentable," he said, his fingers raking through his hair in a vain attempt to tame it.

Their conversation was paused as Jay quietly made her entrance, her arms full with an offering of steaming mugs. Dean's eyes followed her every step, noting the careful balance as she placed the coffee on the table with precision. The small, satisfied smile that danced across her lips made Dean's own lips twitch in response. But it vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a look of comical frustration.

Jay stood with her hands on her hips, her eyes closed, speaking through gritted teeth. "I was so proud of not spilling coffee, I forgot people might want milk and sugar too."

Dean leaned forward, picked up one of the mugs, and met her frustrated gaze with a reassuring smile. "Don't sweat it, Jay. I take my coffee black as midnight on a moonless night," he said, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. "It's the best way to kick-start the day, especially when there's work to be done." He took a sip, letting the rich bitterness of the coffee linger, a stark contrast to the gentle chaos of the morning.

Jay—no, Julia—looked momentarily taken aback, an unspoken question flickering in her eyes about Dean's use of her nickname. Before she could voice it, Rob intervened with a throaty chuckle that broke the brief silence. "Dean, Sam, if it wasn't already apparent, this spirited individual is my daughter Julia."

Julia's expression folded into a mix of amusement and mild embarrassment at her father's words. "Introductions must've slipped my mind earlier," Rob added, his eyes twinkling with paternal amusement.

With a graceful motion that seemed to betray her earlier fluster, Julia tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Was a bit scattered, to be honest," she admitted as a soft hue painted her cheeks.

He offered her a warm, appreciative smile, and she, in turn, blushed a shade deeper, hastily picking up the one mug that held coffee lightened with milk. "Anyway, I'm—" she started, her voice trailing off as she backed away, thumbing in the direction of the staircase, "—going to get dressed."

With that, Julia turned, her retreat up the stairs as quick as it was quiet, leaving the conversation to hang in the warm, coffee-scented air of the living room.

The trio settled into an easy silence, the kind that speaks of understanding rather than discomfort. Eventually, Rob broke the stillness, setting his coffee cup down with a soft clink. "Not that I'm complaining about having John's boys over," he began, his voice even and curious, "but what brings you to my door?"

Sam, always the one to dive into the details, took the lead. "Well, Rob, from what we've pieced together with Bobby's input and clues from Dad's journal, it seems John was here in Boston not too long ago. He was helping you out with a wendigo situation," he explained. "You might have been one of the last people to see him. Now, Dean and I are crisscrossing the country, trying to track him down."

Dean, meanwhile, was only half-listening, his mind wandering as he sipped the robust black coffee. His thoughts were momentarily caught up with Julia—her surprising affinity for classic rock band shirts, her effortless command of the room, despite her earlier disarray. There was an allure there that Dean couldn't quite dismiss.

Realizing he needed to jump back into the conversation, he met Rob's gaze over the rim of his mug. "So, any chance Julia might know something that could help us out?" he asked, his voice casual but with an undercurrent of hope. It was a thinly veiled attempt to weave Julia back into their narrative—perhaps more for another encounter than actual investigative purposes.

Rob leaned back, a faint smile playing on his lips as he cradled his mug. "Julia? She wasn't really involved with the hunting side of things with John. She's the brains, does all the research," he began, but the strains of Led Zeppelin suddenly filled the room, filtering through the walls of Julia’s bedroom, in a muffled but unmistakable riff.

He laughed, a low, rich sound, and shook his head affectionately. "Yeah, she's a history major. She’s got her nose usually buried in old books. But she did dig into the Wendigo lore while John was around. Spent a few hours picking his brain, so it might be worth a shot to ask her," Rob conceded, acknowledging the potential value in speaking with his daughter once more.

As the sun arced higher in the sky outside the arch window, time seemed to fold in on itself within the Blackburn residence. The conversation ebbed and flowed naturally, the brothers and Rob exchanging tales and theories about the elusive Wendigo. Engrossed in the retelling, they barely noticed the passage of time until the Led Zeppelin anthem that had been humming in the background abruptly ceased. A hush fell over the house, and Dean couldn't help but cast a puzzled look towards Rob, who appeared unfazed by the sudden silence, continuing his story with the ease of a man accustomed to the unpredictable soundtrack of a busy household.

Dean's attention was drawn towards the hallway as a flash of red caught his eye—a pair of Converse sneakers, the unmistakable hallmark of a casual yet deliberate style. As Julia came into view, his gaze instinctively followed the line of her high-waisted jeans up to her neatly tucked-in white shirt. Gone was the disarray of the morning; in its place stood Julia, transformed. Her light auburn curls, now tamed and flowing gracefully down her back, framed a face of calm composure.

She paused in the archway, and for a moment, there was a silent exchange as Dean's eyes met hers—no longer sleepy, but sharp and full of life.

Rob, seizing the opportunity, looked up at his daughter with a mix of pride and practicality. "Perfect timing, Jay. Do you recall any of the details from when John helped out with the Wendigo case? I'd take a stab at finding the research in the office, but I still can't make heads or tails of your organization system."

Julia's lips pursed lightly, a subtle indication she was preparing to delve into her mental archives, but before she could articulate her thoughts, Rob interjected with decisiveness. "Great, I'll go get changed, and you can show the boys what you've got."

Julia nodded, a silent agreement to take the lead, and Dean couldn't help but feel a twinge of admiration for the way she navigated her father's expectations with grace. There was more to Julia than met the eye, and Dean was keen to uncover the depths of her knowledge—not just for the sake of their quest, but perhaps, for the simple pleasure of her company.

As Rob ascended the stairs, Julia began gathering the empty coffee mugs with an efficiency that spoke of routine. She gave Sam and Dean a quick, playful grin. "I'll just drop these off in the kitchen, then we can dive into the research. Hope you're ready for a bit of a deep dive," she said, her tone light but with an undercurrent of excitement about the task ahead. She turned on her heel, the cups clinking softly as she vanished down the hall.

Dean watched her go, an appreciative gleam in his eye. Sam, catching this all-too-familiar look, turned his entire body to face his brother, his expression a blend of warning and wisdom.

"Dean, I'm gonna say this once: tread carefully, man," Sam advised, leaning in slightly to emphasize his point.

Dean turned to his brother, feigning innocence. "What are you talking about, Sammy?"

Sam fixed Dean with a knowing look, the kind that only a lifetime of brotherhood could perfect. "Julia. I see that look in your eyes," he cautioned, his voice serious but not unkind.

A roguish smirk danced across Dean's face, his thoughts lingering on the spark he'd felt during their brief interactions. "Can't help it if there's a mutual spark. And come on, Sam—she's smart, she's into Zeppelin, and she's got that whole natural beauty thing going on. It's not just me," Dean defended with a casual shrug, trying to brush off the gravity of Sam's warning with his characteristic nonchalance.

Julia reemerged with a swift grace, pausing at the doorway, her demeanor alight with the thrill of sharing her world. The excitement seemed to emanate from her, an infectious energy that promised revelations and secrets held within her scholarly trove. As Sam and Dean stood, ready to be led into her realm of research, Sam's encouragement was both genuine and anticipatory.

"Rob mentioned you're quite the expert. Can't wait to see the treasures you've been working on," he said, his kind smile acknowledging her expertise.

Julia's response was tinged with humility and appreciation. "That's really nice of you to say," she replied, leading the way up the stairs with a lightness in her step that suggested she was as eager to share as they were to learn.

Reaching the second-floor landing, they were greeted by the impressive sight of a bookshelf that seemed to serve both as a doorway and a guardian of knowledge. Passing through the archway, both Winchesters couldn't help but pause, struck by the beauty of the room that unfolded before them.

They were surrounded by the warmth of aged wood and the silent stories of countless tomes. A built-in window seat nestled against a bay window offered a view of the soft purple wisteria blossoms framing the glass. The room was steeped in the warmth of vintage charm and the whispered stories of countless books. The walls are lined with towering shelves, crafted from dark, polished wood that gleams under the soft golden hue of strategically placed lamps. Each shelf is a testament to a bibliophile's passion, densely packed with books of varying sizes, their spines creating a colourful mosaic that speaks to years of collection and care.

In one corner, a plush armchair sits invitingly, upholstered in a rich, patterned fabric that echoes the bygone era of Victorian elegance. Next to it, a small table holds a crystal decanter of amber liquid and matching glasses, alongside a pile of well-thumbed novels, suggesting a perfect nook for sipping and reading. The heavy curtains pulled back from a large window allow the gentle light to filter in, casting a serene glow over the scene.

Despite the room's orderly foundations, there's a deliberate messiness to it that adds character. Stacks of books and papers teeter precariously on every available surface, including the floor, where a worn Persian rug lays as a testament to the many hours spent lost in literature. The desk is a landscape of creative chaos, with open books, notes scribbled on loose papers, and a vintage typewriter pushed to one side to make room for a modern laptop, showing the blend of old and new.

Unique artifacts are nestled among the books: a vintage globe, a brass telescope, and curious trinkets like skulls and antique scissors, each with its own untold backstory. The space is a sanctuary of knowledge, history, and personal quirks, inviting you to explore its depths, both literary and personal.

As Julia completed a graceful pirouette, her arms outstretched to present the room, her eyes met theirs with a spark of shared understanding. "This is where the magic happens," she declared, her smile as genuine as the passion that clearly fueled her pursuit of knowledge. The invitation was clear, and the Winchesters stepped into her world, ready to be enchanted by the magic of her making.

The effervescent joy Julia exuded was infectious, and Dean found himself basking in a reflected glow of happiness as he watched her navigate the room. He leaned against the doorway, observing her as she gathered an armful of papers and books, her movements a dance of efficiency amid the charming chaos. With a deft hand, she rehomed the collected clutter atop another table already brimming with the weight of research.

"Here," she sang out, her voice carrying the lightness of a melody, as she flitted from one end of the room to the other, her presence transforming the space into something ethereal. She was like a sprite in her own domain, orchestrating the energy of the room with every sweep of her arm.

Sam and Dean approached the cleared chairs with a hint of hesitation, not wanting to disturb the artful disorder of her workspace. They settled into the seats, and Julia paused in her bustling, resting a hand on the back of Dean's chair. For a moment, she stood still, lost in thought, and Dean found himself enveloped in the subtle scent that clung to her—pistachio, perhaps, and something sweetly salted, like caramel. It was warm and inviting, and his heart thrummed a little faster in his chest as he struggled to maintain his composure.

Julia's contemplative silence broke, and she turned her gaze to meet Sam's, her expression earnest. "I have a lot of material on the Wendigo—notes, theories, patterns. John had me assist him with something else, too," she confided, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. "But before I share anything, you have to promise not to tell my dad. He tends to be... overly protective about certain things."

Her eyes lingered on Sam, seeking an assurance of confidentiality, an unspoken pact between them. Dean felt a tug of curiosity, an eagerness to delve into the knowledge she held, and he nodded in silent agreement, keenly aware of the trust she was placing in their hands.

Sam met Julia's earnest gaze, understanding the gravity of her request. He nodded, a silent promise etched into the gesture. "You have our word, Julia. Whatever you share with us stays between us," Sam assured her, his tone underscored with the seriousness of a sworn oath.

Dean, who had been momentarily caught in the sensory spell of Julia's presence, now anchored himself in the moment, the importance of her trust not lost on him. He leaned forward slightly, his eyes locking with hers, reinforcing the vow. "We've kept secrets bigger than a bunker," he said, a soft, conspiratorial edge to his voice. "Your research is safe with us."

Julia, seemingly satisfied with their assurance, pulled a deep breath before she began, her eyes momentarily flitting to the ceiling as if gathering the threads of her thoughts. "Okay," she started, her voice now a hushed whisper, "John and I were looking into some lore—old, obscure stuff, not just your run-of-the-mill monster tales. It's about something much older, something he was tracking long before the Wendigo."

The room seemed to hold its breath as Julia spoke, the brothers leaning in, captivated by the prelude to secrets yet untold. The promise they had made bound them to this space, to the words that were about to unfold, weaving them into the fabric of Julia's clandestine work.

With the silence of one well-versed in the quietude of libraries, Julia drifted towards the bay window, her figure briefly silhouetted against the gentle light. She took a swift left into a nook, where a ceiling-high cupboard was nestled like a secret chamber within the room. Sam and Dean sat in anticipation, their ears tuned to the soft hum of her tune, punctuated by the rustle of papers as she rummaged within the cupboard's depths.

The cupboard doors clicked shut, and Julia returned to the table, her arms wrapped around a thick brown accordion folder that seemed to challenge her with its heft. With careful steps, she approached, placing the folder on the table before sliding into the last remaining chair—inevitably, the one next to Dean.

As she scooted her chair in, the proximity brought a subtle contact; her knee brushed against Dean's, a fleeting touch that sent a heightened awareness coursing through him. Julia opened the folder with a sense of ceremony, unleashing a cascade of notebooks and papers, each leaf carrying the weight of diligent inquiry.

Sam immediately delved into one of the notebooks, his eyes scanning the bubbly script and the stark sketches that accompanied the text. Dean, however, remained focused on Julia, his curiosity piqued not just by the research but by the researcher herself.

"So, what was it my dad had you digging into?" Dean inquired, his voice low and earnest, inviting confidence.

Julia's gaze lifted to meet his, a current of intensity passing between them. "A demon," she began, her voice barely above a murmur, as if the very word might invoke the creature's attention. Her eyes flicked to Sam's, ensuring she had both brothers' undivided attention, before she continued, "The Yellow-Eyed Demon."

To be continued . . .

Chapter Two

[the-hellhounds]

Walking around in the cemetery, Ravi grumbled to himself as he carried a dead supernatural being in his arms. "Stupid windigos," he muttered under his breath as he found one of the nemetons in which was placed beyond the cemetery. "Always making a mess when they eat humans."

Dropping the supernatural to the tree, he wipes his jacket off from the blood that leaked off of the wendigos' mouth. Having had to fight off the being from potentially running off again to feast on more unsuspecting humans, Ravi had arrived on time to witness it bite a deputies arm.

"Now burn in hell, you shit face." He growls lowly as he sets on fire the body of the wendigo. Leaving it to burn into the nemeton, he walks back to the rows of graves and headstones until he stops dead in his tracks. Raising his head as his nose picked up the familiar scent, Ravi makes a turn towards a burial that had two stone creatures in the shape of kitsunes.

Upon further approach, his senses go on high alert as he hears the heartbeat of someone buried alive.

"They're coming..." Jake says by the window of Jaemin's house as he peeked out to see their lost friends stalking towards them in beserker outfits.

Johnny breathed out as he rolled his shoulders and looked to Jaehyun. "Let's not die today, okay?" He says to his friend as they all got ready to fight the biggest fight of their entire lives.

As Chenle and Renjun got everyone's mates and loved ones hidden in the bunker, the rest stood their ground. Igniting themselves to be engulfed in flames, they let out deep roars to indicate that they wouldn't back down.

Pulling out an unconscious Taeyong from the grave that had oxygen tanks buried with him. Ravi couldn't believe he had found the leader to the pack that had gone missing for months.

"Come on... come on, wake up." He shook Taeyong's body, hoping he'd gain consciousness, but nothing helped.

"He won't wake up unless they get the sword through the nogistunes' heart." A deep voice says from behind Ravi. Turning his head, he spots Chanyeol standing before him. "It's how they got Donghyuck back. But they must piece back the sword quickly before it notices that you found Taeyong." Chanyeol says.

Without wasting another minute, Ravi quickly pulls out his phone and calls the first person on his contacts. "Get the sword fixed." He barks out into his phone as he hears the growls and roars of his pack from the background on the other end of the call. "I found him."

Getting thrown halfway across three houses in the territory, Haechan groans in pain as he gets Sunwoo thrown onto him. "How much do you weigh?" He groans as he pushes the younger off of him.

"Not as much as you do," Sunwoo answered with snarl as he looked down to see a gash in his thigh from one of the beserkers. "Fucking great. Now mom's going to lose her shit."

"How old is your mom?" Haechan asks, getting an unbelievable stare from Sunwoo as if he didn't just ask something ridiculous at the time.

"You're not fucking my sons mother!" Hanbin growled as he stood in front of them to protect Sunwoo from getting hurt further.

Whining from behind him, Haechan pouts. "Why not? You got to her first!" He says just as Hanbin moved when a berserker threw another punch that landed on Haechan's cheek. "Fuck!"

"Karma's a bitch, isn't it?" Sunwoo snickered as he ran off to help his father with an Oni that was attacking him.

Making a face towards the new kid, Haechan snarls his lip as he fought back the berserker.

"Haven't you learned your lesson?" Jaemin says as he appears and helps him with Jeno. "You just can't be throwing yourself at other men's women like that, or you'll get punched by a beserker, which happens to be one of our friends." He says sarcastically.

Grumbling, Haechan held the arm that had a sharp bone as a weapon so they could take down Kai, which was the beserker they were fighting among the others.

Running to hide from the nogistune while Johnny distracted it, Jaehyun held the sword that would be used to vanquish the spirit.

"Then why cause so much chaos?" Johnny yelled as he got beat down by the Oni that held him. "What for? It only causes pain to others."

The nogistune smirked in such a way that looked frightening on Taeyong's face. "Because how else would I feed? I can't feed off of others' happiness, and I know Taeyong isn't happy." It says as it walked dangerously slow towards Johnny that heaved in pain from the wounds he had. "Haechan wasn't happy either, but somehow, his loved ones always found a way to get him back."

"Loved ones," Johnny spits out, "something you'll never have."

Throwing a punch to his jaw, Taeyong growls into his face. "And it'll also be something you'll never experience-" he goes to say, but stops when he senses something. Turning his head up to the sky, the nogistune feels that the real Taeyong had been found. "No. This can't be..." He whispers as he doesn't notice Jaehyun approach him.

"But it can." Jaehyun plunges the sword deep in the nogistunes back as it pierces it right through his heart.

As the nogistune lets out piercing cries, the Oni begin to disappear into thin air. The beserkers stop attacking, their eyes fading into their normal colors as if snapping out of it.

The hounds all let out relieved breathes as their friends begin to take off the bear skulls they had on.

"Guys, I feel funny," YangYang says as he drops his skull helmet to the ground.

"That's because you have a gash on your side," Ten tells the younger as he walks over to him in his own beserker outfit.

Looking down to where he now felt the pain, YangYang felt dizzy. "Oh," he says before collapsing into Kun's arms from seeing so much blood.

"Everyone hurt, get to my medical hut," Kun announces as he takes an unconscious YangYang with him.

Baekhyun stared at Changkyun, his sharpened bone weapon having missed Kyun's head by an inch into the dirt ground. "Kyun?" He asks as the younger stared with widen eyes up at him.

"YOU ALMOST KILLED ME!!" Jake suddenly yelled feet away from them as both Baekhyun and Kyun looked over to see Chris having stabbed the ground between Jake's legs.

"Mate, why were your legs even opened!? You dodge if a sharp weapon comes at you!" Chris yells back at him as he too had snapped back to normal.

"You were about to stab me in the dick!! I had to open them after you swiped my legs!" Dropping his head back, he breathes heavily in pure tiredness from fighting for his life.

As everyone was getting treated, San sat down next to Taeyong, who had been silently drinking beer.

"You okay?" San asks as he opened up a can of beer to drink with him.

Taeyong sighed as he dropped his head back, his neck popping as he lifted it back up. "Not really..." He answered. "I'm the leader to my pack. I should've protected my friends, my family... but I failed. I put them all at risk."

"You didn't fail them," San tells him with a pat to his shoulder. "Having a nogistune inside you is something no one can avoid, but having friends to help get you back means that you've proved yourself as a great leader."

.

"Papa?" Minjun asks as he comes waddling over to Haechan and Jeno with power ranger bandages.

"Thanks, buddy," Haechan smiles softly to his one year old that looked up at him worriedly.

"I don't think a power ranger bandage will cover much..." Jeno whispers while holding his thigh that was covered in blood. Lifting up the baby hound in his arms, he cradles him while Haechan cleaned up his wound. "But thank you for helping, Minjunnie," he smiles as he presses a kiss to his cheek.

Ravi appears to help out! 🤧: @badbf-cb ( lisa ♥︎ ) - @fantasyaespa ( ningning ♥︎ ) - @fallenangel-oc ( staci & alya ♥︎ × ♥︎ ) - @lovesick-hyuck ( ♥︎ ) - @witch-renjunnie ( ♥︎ ) - @raiden-oc ( 🌺 ♥︎ ) @monsterhigh-cb ( jaemin ♥︎ ) - @livealittleoc-cb ( jay & ace ★ × ♠︎ ) - @multi-esme

[always-outlander]

Outlander 7x02 Thoughts & Easter Eggs

Spoilers below the cut for “The Happiest Place on Earth”

Wow, what an episode! There’s so much to unpack here but I will start by saying that I deeply enjoyed this one. A lot of direct from the book dialogue, some plot that was reworked and-in my opinion-for the better. Brilliant acting by many but especially Sam and Cait. It had a lot squeezed into it but let’s get into it.

Alan Christie

To start, we finally had the resolution for Malva and learned that Alan not only assaulted and abused her for her entire life, but was also the one who killed her. This was such a sensitive storyline and to have those flash backs with Malva made me emotional. Jessica Reynolds is a wonderful actress and her Malva was perfect. This scene was the first one I could feel the pain point of having to end season 6 prematurely. The gap between Malva’s death, followed by the hiatus, to now reach the culmination here almost made the impact of Malva’s death take a back seat to the beginning of these new storylines. You can feel that 7x01 and 02 were meant to be a part of that ending, but what can you do 🤷🏻‍♀️ that’s me being nit picky.

But back to Alan. This was almost exactly what happened in the books and I was happy that Young Ian made such a brief appearance. That spacing between episodes likely made people forget that he had a little romance happening with Malva, but his honor once again rang true with his actions here.

Major continuity error with Claire’s wig though– only when she is burying Alan does her hair grow 3 inches, then magically is cut again for the remainder of the episode.

Mrs Bug

Book readers know the upcoming storyline with Mrs. Bug, and we set the foundations this episode when Wendigo and his men come to the Big House in search of gem stones. There they uncover Arch Bug’s hidden gold (which is very significant later on). I loved seeing this preview of what is to come.

Mandy’s Birth

Amanda Fraser is born and we get a very quick moment of happiness for this little family, when the hammer drops that she has a serious heart condition that Claire cannot fix. This is the impetuous behind the MacKenzie’s and the Frasers separating for what I assume will be majority of the season. The scene with them all at the stone circle was very touching and I felt like Cait and Sam’s acting shined brightly here. The best part for me was the quote from Jamie taken directly from the books where he tells Claire

“For your sake, I will continue–though for mine alone…I would not.”

I also deeply enjoyed the Disney tie ins from the book, the humorous moment where Jamie tries to understand how a giant rodent is meant to be fun for children, and his wishes to Jemmy to give a mouse named Michael his regards. All direct from the books, and delivered perfectly.

Bree meets William

The moment we’ve (I’ve) been waiting for, WILLIAM has graced our screens. Though it was short, I squealed when I saw him and Lord John together, especially him in his red coat. You can certainly see the resemblance and while we have yet to see his acting chops on full display, Charles appears to be a perfect casting. He has the cocky confidence of a young Jamie Fraser down pat, I’m curious to see what other nuisances he brings to the role.

Lord John and Jamie

This scene was touching and so well done, Sam and David have always had such great scenes together and really made this relationship between these two men such a beautifully complicated thing. John has long been trying to convince Jamie to do the right thing and fight for the British, but you can see his true intentions here more than ever. If Jamie fights for the British, he can protect him. When Jamie chooses to fight opposite John and William, he knows he cannot.

In a last act of love and friendship, John returns the gem to Jamie from his escape at Ardsmiur. Something we know meant so much to John. His love for Jamie will always win out in the end, and I loved that the scene had room to breathe at the end. John crying alone in his room, and Jamie’s pause outside the door and his watery eyes was perfectly done.

Claire’s Breakdown

In the last scene of episode 1, Claire and Jamie have a discussion about Tom Christie and his confession. In the show, they chose to end that scene with Claire going to sleep while Jamie takes revenge on Richard Brown (and what a badass scene that was). In the books, the moment ends with Claire and Jamie trying to be intimate again, and Claire having a breakdown.

The show has now taken that scene and moved it into episode 2, which actually felt a lot better to me having watched it this way. I was sad that this moment was removed from episode 1 but beyond happy to see it here because it was another wonderful showcase of Sam and Cait’s acting and Claire and Jamie’s love. In the books, Claire cries because she is sad for Tom, for Malva, for Frank. Jamie tells Claire to weep for them because you “canna keep a ghost at bay. He tells her to let them in and grieve for them so she can heal.

In the show, Claire cries for the loss of her family –Fergus and Marsali, the MacKenzies, and Jamie mentions Faith, Murtagh, his mother and brother. They have both lost so many, and he encourages her to cry for them. To me this was so much more poignant and relevant to the events of the episode. I really loved this change.

The Throwing of the Gem

Another iconic scene the we finally got to see brought to life was when Jamie gives Claire the gem stone and tells her that she can go with Bree, or go back if he should die. The acting in this was so perfect and in the books, Claire throws the stone far into the woods to prove to Jamie once again that she is never leaving him. I enjoyed his little jab that she should probably go and recover it.

Wendigo Donner

The return of Wendigo Donner finally closed the loop on the big house fire, and I’m so excited to see how the beginning of episode 3 starts. The highlight of this scene for me was the callback to season 3, when Claire is pretending to be abducted so that Jamie can get what he needs from Lord John Grey. In this scene (and in the books) Jamie is lying to Donner about not having gemstones in the house, but then changes his tune once Claire’s life is in danger. He leans into the ‘disgruntled husband upset with his wife’ tune and tells Donner that Claire hid all the stones while he was away, so she is the only one who knows there location (thus making it impossible to kill her). The humor in Claire’s eyes made me laugh in an otherwise tense scene.

We get much of the same dialogue and story beats as the books here but the one subtle change happens when Jamie finds out that the man in their house is in fact Donner and not some random group of men looking for money. As soon as he hears his name, he lunges for Donner to seek revenge on what he had done to Claire.

In the books, Claire slips out of Donners arms and lunges after him, with Jamie holding her back at the waist. They try to plot an escape but one thing leads to another and Jamie actually kills Donner with a knife before the ether explodes. In the books, it is because Young Ian lit a match to help illuminate the dark room everyone was sitting in. Big change, subtle change, but one I’m interested in seeing them explain next episode.

All in all I loved this one, I’m enjoying the changes made and the pacing of this felt better than the first episode. Would love to hear your thoughts!

[pycobutterpie]

Stranger in my kitchen

Summary: Dean goes full to protective dad mode, as he sees a stranger in his kitchen touching his daughter.

Pairing: Dean x reader

Warnings: firing a gun in front of a baby

Word Count: 1392

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please don't judge me for using a translator for this original text. I wrote it together with my friend Minnie who has added the part of Lu and Y/N. We are so exited to add something to this beautiful community of writing for dean. Also this is my first fanfic ever published outside my inner circle of writing friends. (In our story it also became true, that Dean is Bens real father. And Bobby never died. ;) )

[Y/N's POV] It was actually a normal day at the Winchesters' house. Dean had been on a hunt with Bobby and should be home soon. Ben was still sleeping his bed upstairs. The two dogs were running around in the garden and also needed a little time to themselves… Baby Cassidy was already awake with her mother Y/N. Cassy was in damn good hands and was currently sitting in a little baby bouncer on the kitchen counter and Y/N was clearing out the dishwasher. But they weren't alone. On one of the bar stools sat a man, not much older than Y/N and Dean, in a smart dark blue suit and white shirt that wasn't completely buttoned up. In his hand was a steaming cup of coffee and on his hand was a ring with a black rectangular stone in it. With the other hand, he nudged Cassy's bouncer and smirked at her. Y/N had just tied her hair up in a bun and was wearing just a top and hot pants as she crouched behind the counter at the dishwasher. Cassy started laughing and just babbled to herself.

[Dean's POV] Hunting. An activity in which Dean felt completely free and could rely entirely on his instincts. It was what he had learned, what he was born for. Making the world a better place, saving lives. The family business.

For once, it wasn't about changing diapers or talking to stuffy principals. No, Wendigos didn't talk and Dean understands Bobby without words. So the men had chased the thing in the nearby St. Jeffreys mine for a few hours and finally sent it to purgatory. It was life like before the unexpected baby happiness. The hunt had been all about instinct, speed and accuracy. That was what Dean had been living for the last few hours.

And that was what he needed now, when he saw a strange man sitting at his kitchen table, holding out his hand for his Cassidy. The strange man was wearing a suit. He was sitting with his back to the doorway through which the hunter had just stepped. An advantage, if only for a split second.

And the pistol was already in Dean's hand, loaded with silver bullets, aimed at the stranger's back.

Dean pulled the trigger immediately.

There were no thoughts clouding his mind. No details that he noticed. Shoot first, ask questions later. That had always been the motto. At least that of John and Dean Winchester. The bullet that Dean hoped would save his daughter went off with a loud bang. Then his gaze was diverted by a person appearing from behind the counter. It was Y/N, who Dean's subconscious had classified as missing before. That's why he hadn't hesitated for a moment to shoot the stranger. Because nobody was allowed to get too close to his little Cassy. No one.

If you had time to look at Dean, you'd see a serious guy with soot and dust on his face, trousers and jacket. A bloody scratch adorned his left cheek, his knuckles were cracked and his palms were scraped open.

[Y/N's POV] Y/N hadn't given any thought at all to the fact that her cousin Lu had announced himself. Twenty minutes before his arrival. Of course, that was typical of him, as always. If he announces himself at all. But she was a good hostess after all, offering her visitor a coffee immediatly. And although he wasn't purely human, she knew he posed no danger whatsoever. Not to Ben, not to her, let alone to Cassy. She had even asked him to help her with some of her research into Cassy's powers and how to secure certain parts of them. But nonetheless, she knew Dean would be back later today. But she just figured the situation could be resolved with a simple round of introductions. But that wasn't the case. Dean came in in the manner of his father and started shooting at everything he didn't know and couldn't categorize. Great…

But Lu was quicker. He had already heard the footsteps crunching on the smooth tiled floor. Because Dean's shoes didn't look particularly clean from the hunt in the forest and so he also heard the safety catch on the gun and then automatically raised his hand towards Dean and the bullet made it out of the barrel of the gun but fell to the floor just before it hit his suit.

Y/N screamed briefly and slapped her hand over her mouth, but then saw how battered Dean looked… "Baby! What happened?" She had also dropped a cup that she had just taken out of the dishwasher and then immediately ran over to Dean, took the gun out of his hand and stuck it securely in the back of her waistband.

Lu had stood up in the meantime and straightened the front of his Armani suit and then looked over at Cassy again and stroked her lightly over her small hand. "Well, it looks like your daddy in a damn bad mood…" He looked to Dean with a grin now, being slightly provocative of course… But that was just the way he was. Otherwise, he was a kind-hearted person, if you could call him that…

[Dean's POV] Dean lips twitched in anger as the guy stopped the bullet just like nothing. That wasn't human. Something like that shouldn't be in this house. Briefly, he froze slightly as Y/N took the gun away from him and remained totally calm. She even seemed taken aback by Dean's reaction. Only slowly did he realize that she could also have an insurance agent visiting or someone from the youth welfare office. But that was out of the question, because the man was totally unimpressed by the fact that he had almost been shot.

What was wrong with the guy and his mocking grin? Dean looked at Y/N in amazement, because she must have guessed what had happened. He almost nagged at her: "A strange, supernatural guy is trying to touch my daughter. This maybe?" Long slimy fingers trying to hurt a cute baby. But not in Dean's kitchen!

Quickly, the hunter rushed to Cassidy and picked her up from the rocker to his dirty arms. The comforting smell of fresh baby skin and diapers came into his mind and grounded him a little. The little girl didn't quite know whether to be happy or cry and looked a little frightened.

Dean turned his child away from the stranger so that he couldn't touch her again. The protective father turned threateningly to the suit guy: "Get your paws off her or you'll have mine in your face!" He would love to deform that polished face a little, given the stranger's audacity. Dean protectively placed a hand on Cassy's head. Only Y/N's light-heartedness kept the hunter halfway to the ground. Eagle-eyed, he tried to spot something about his girlfriend. Some strange behavior. Was she under a spell? "So, what's this, huh?" he asked, still growling slightly.

[Y/N's POV] Lu stood there grinning, his hands buried in his pants pockets by now and leaning against the counter in the kitchen, really very relaxed and not at all intimidated. He then picked up his coffee cup, spread his little finger and simply watched the spectacle that was unfolding between the two of them. As panicked, angry and heroic as Dean was acting, it really amused the cousin.

Y/N rolled her eyes, but then realized that she should have warned Dean that Lu was coming over. She ran a hand through her hair and then said, "Dean…please… If there's someone in this house, I let them in here, otherwise Evangeline and Bones would have struck. And I told you about my cousin Lu from Vegas back then, didn't I? May I introduce…my cousin Lu from Vegas…yes, Lu is not human. He's a warlock. And yes, I invited him here to think about this magical barrier for Cassy's powers and to talk to him. But that won't work if you just shoot him. He's my biological cousin and I hope we've settled the issue now!", she said with a sigh. "Lu? This is Dean… My fiancé and father of my daughter. He's not usually that pissed off. But with Cassy, he sees red… And he has an aversion to strange men in suits…"

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

What if Bella was a Wendigo?

I'm not trying to win the yandere simulator or anything, I just thought it would be funny if Bella occasionally hung out in the cold and ate people.

Wendigo

The interesting thing about the Twilight universe is that most of the myths we know, especially those that involve "the eating of people", stone people, you name it, are probably vampires. Otherwise, these creatures tended to have died out in competition with the vampire such as the Children of the Moon and who knows who else.

Which means that while Edward doesn't eat Bella, not meeting her as she's out in the wilderness with questionable sentience left eating people and herself and smells like decaying death even if he did come across her, if she gets too hangry the Volturi are probably putting her down.

Her life is misery and sawing off her own legs to eat them.

[runawrites-blog]

Until The Break of Dawn Ch. 4 (Josh Washington x Reader)

Summary: After waking up in the mines, you try to find your way back to the surface. On your way, you meet an injured Jessica but as you two try to find your way back, you also encounter a terrifying creature. (Female Reader) Warnings: Mild depictions of Jessica's injuries. Josh's faked Death. Wendigos. Specific warnings will be posted in the notes of each chapter. No Y/N, Petnames (Honey) Author's Note: You can find the previous chapter here. Also, I tried and failed to figure out just how much the characters, especially the search parties, knew about the mines, so I decided that they would have probably discovered parts of them but had no idea how deep they truly ran, probably due to the cave in cutting off routes into the deeper parts of the shafts. I'm very sorry for the long wait. Crossposted on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49644949/chapters/125304058

Cold water dripping onto your face brought you back into consciousness.

Slowly, you sat up and blinked against the darkness surrounding you, only illuminated by the moonlight streaming in through the hole you had fallen through. You didn’t know where you were but you knew that you had to get out. Ignoring the pain that coursed through you after your fall, you started moving to look for an exit. The first plan you’d come up with was to get out on the same path you had gotten inside on but a quick look up the slope made it clear that this was not a good idea. It was completely frozen over and with nothing to grab onto there was no way you would be able to get out that way.

You would have to find another way out of this cave. As you looked around the dark stone walls you realized that this wasn’t a regular cave but a tunnel, constructed by people and supported by wooden beams. It was an old mine shaft. You had never known that there were mines that deep running through Mount Washington. During the search for the twins you’d all discovered surface-level shafts but you doubted anyone had expected them to actually run this deep. Perhaps that was where Beth and Hannah had ended up. You vowed to tell authorities about this new discovery but for now, you needed to get back to the lodge, find Josh, and get to safety.

“Alright, calm down. This is a mine shaft and that means miners went in and out of it every day.” You told yourself and slowly began to move down the tunnel in front of you. “There has to be a way out.”

Fortunately, you found an old lantern on your way through the tunnel, giving a quiet cheer at the prospect of having a source of light. You dug around your pockets for anything to light it with and rejoiced when you felt the outline of yours. Quickly, you lit the torch and kept moving.

“Thank you, Dad.” You whispered into the quiet, putting the lighter back into your pocket. “Even from beyond the grave, you help me.”

Half an hour later, you arrived at a dead end and saw a ladder leading up to a higher-set tunnel. Before you could get up the ladder you heard someone call out your name.

“Is that really you? Have you found a way out and will you take me with you?”

The voice undoubtedly belonged to Jess and you quickly ran into the direction it was coming from. But when you saw Jess you froze. She looked bruised and bloodied, tear tracks on her cheeks as she looked at you in disbelief. You immediately made your way over to her and when you reached her you quickly drew her into your arms at which Jess promptly started crying.

“Jess, are you alright? What are you doing down here?”

“I was dragged out the-- the guest cabin and-- and taken and I ended up down here. I just remember falling.” She sobbed out quietly. “How did you end up here?”

“I was at the maintenance shed with Josh and after checking out something that I had seen he-- he just disappeared. When I tried to find him I-- I fell into a hole or something and ended up here.” You explained quickly, trying to keep the panic out of your voice. “Have you found anything that could tell us where to go?”

“I don’t know but we need to get out of here!” She screeched in fear as she pulled back from your embrace to fix you with wild eyes. “There’s these horrible-- horrible things down here! We need to get back to the lodge and off the mountain!”

“Things?”

“Monsters.”

And as if to cement her claims a loud screeching echoed through the mine shaft making Jess freeze before grabbing for your arm. You quickly pulled Jess toward a large metal cart where the two of you hid. Just as you had turned off the lantern the thing that had made that sound came crawling into the mineshaft. Jess held her breath and you watched in horror as what looked like an emaciated corpse crawled along the mine shaft’s floor. You felt your blood run cold and pressed your eyes shut, burying your nose in the scarf around your neck, inhaling once in the hopes that Josh’s scent would calm you down a bit. And it did the trick, making it easier for you to keep quiet. The creature sniffed around, looking for you but thankfully, it moved on and went down the tunnel you had come from.

“You were right.” You eventually murmured after making sure the creature was gone. “We need to get off this mountain.”

“What do we do now?”

You thought for a few seconds, pondering on whether or not you should venture further into the tunnels but quickly decided that it was the only way to get back outside. “We need to keep moving. These are mine shafts which means miners had to get in and out on a regular basis. There has to be a way out. I say we get up that ladder over there.”

“These monsters will find us.” Jess argued, voice tight with fear. “I tried going up the ladder but up there is just so much more screeching and-- and probably more creatures, too!”

“But we have to keep moving, Jess. And besides, that monster just now didn’t see us, so if we hide and keep still we might just make it out.”

“Might just?” Jess quoted your words in uncertainty. “I don’t like the odds of that.”

“It’s our only hope. There has to be a way out.” You argued, trying to sound reassuring despite your fear. “The only way out is through.”

To your surprise that got a small chuckle out of Jess. “That sounds like something our guidance counselor back from Middle school would have said.”

“True.” You nodded before chuckling softly. “I hated that woman; she was so mean when I was there after my dad disappeared.”

Jess reached up to wipe her tears before nodding. “But unlike how I felt about our guidance counselor, I believe you.”

“Then let’s not waste any time.”

The two of you set out, climbing up the ladder after one another and then setting out into a new tunnel, only illuminated by your lantern. Your journey was thankfully uneventful with no creatures showing up despite the screeches and screams echoing throughout the mine shafts. Jess had eventually taken your hand, letting you lead her through the mine shafts and you held hers tightly, trying to keep yourself calm. About half an hour later found the two of you in front of a big abyss, only bridged by a creaky wooden structure. Jess swallowed, her hand still holding yours as she looked down into the abyss.

“This is the only way, right?”

“Right.” You nodded slowly and took a deep breath. “The only way out is through.”

“I think you mean across.” Jess joked quietly before nodding at you. “Let’s keep moving, please.”

The two of you carefully made it across the abyss, holding onto each other for support and trying not to slip, when one of the creatures came running from behind you. Jess froze and you stared at it in terror as it screeched, starting to search for the people it had just heard a few seconds prior.

“Jess, we need to run. It will see us but we might be able to outrun it. There’s a fork in the cave ahead. You go left and I’ll be right behind you.” You whispered, not moving a muscle as you kept an eye on the creature. “Just run. Don’t stop for me.”

“I can’t leave you behind.”

“If we get separated, just run and hide and get out of here. And when you get back to the lodge get everyone to help find Josh before these things find him.” You urged, tears gathering in your eyes. “I’ll find a way out. Just run."

Jess eventually gave a tiny nod. “On the count of three, alright?”

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

Jess bolted for the other side of the abyss and you were right at her tail. The monster screeched at your movements and began to chase after you, only making you run faster. The wooden structures creaked and moved under your steps, making you trip and fall to your knees. Jess had made it across by the time you got back to your feet and you barely managed to escape the creature’s claws as you took off running once more.

You swore loudly as you ran after Jess who was now sprinting down the left tunnel. The creature was now scaling the walls and just as you were about to run after Jess, it jumped down right in front of you, effectively blocking off the left tunnel.

“Right it is!”

You ran down the right tunnel and eventually managed to lose the creature in the maze of mine shafts. Heaving for breath after outrunning the creature, you looked around and to your delight, you found another ladder close by. For a second you debated on whether or not to get up there but then decided that it was your only chance of getting back out of the mine shafts.

“Why am I even debating going up that ladder?” You mumble to yourself as you start climbing it. “What else can I fucking do at this point?”

When you got to the top of the ladder you found yourself in a large access tunnel that was illuminated by moonlight, meaning it led outside. You cheered quickly and set out toward the source of the light which led you onto a trail. Without a second thought, you booked it down the trail. You needed to find your friends so they could help you get Jess out of the mines and find Josh.

You ran for what felt like hours, fearful for your friends and scared that the creatures would follow you outside of the mines, and only stopped when you collided with someone. The collision sent you almost falling to the floor but the person caught your arm, keeping you upright.

It was Chris and Ashley was right behind him.

Relieved about seeing your friends again, you embraced him and Chris put a comforting hand on your back. Ashley saw your panicked state and quietly asked what had happened. Her question broke all the dams and you pulled back before starting to ramble about what was going on.

“Chris, we have to-- we gotta get help. There are these creatures in the mines! And Jess is still down there and-- and Josh and I got separated. He is somewhere in the-- in the woods. I couldn’t find him and I fell into the mines but I got separated from Jess, too.” You weren’t even aware that you had started crying until a sob broke from your throat. “I couldn’t save either of them!”

“Mines? Monsters?” Ashley asked softly, fear seeping into her voice. “What are you talking about?”

“There’s these old mine shafts running through the mountain but there’s these-- these monsters down there and somehow Jess ended up there!” You explained in a panic, sobbing once more as you realized how terrible your situation was. “We need to get her out and find Josh!”

“Josh.” Chris echoed his name in an almost devastated manner and you looked up at him with teary eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry? Sorry about what? What happened?”

“Tell her, Chris.” Ashley whispered and gripped onto his arm. “Please.”

“Tell me what?” You asked but Chris remained quiet for a few seconds so you had to ask again, terrified of what he was about to tell you. “Tell me what, Chris?”

“Josh is dead.”

It took a few seconds for the words to sink in and when they did you felt like someone had just reached into your chest to rip your heart out straight through your ribs. A lump rose in your throat and tears gathered in your eyes as Chris’ words kept running through your head. Josh was dead. Your best friend, your boyfriend, the man who’d been there for you whenever you needed him and whom you trusted blindly was dead.

But for some reason, you had a hard time accepting his words. Josh had been lost in the woods and now he was apparently dead. Despite your common sense telling you that Chris would never lie about something like that, you couldn’t help but question his words. You just couldn’t believe that Josh was dead.

“No, Chris. He’s just lost. We have to go find him!”

Ashley quickly shook her head. “No, he is dead. There’s this-- this maniac running around and he took Josh and I to tie us up to-- to test Chris. It was like that movie you and Josh forced us all to watch that once Halloween and it was-- it was so horrible.”

“You’re telling me a Jigsaw wannabe is on this mountain, putting people into traps?” You asked, getting a little irritated now because their words sounded like a joke to you. “Is this a joke? If this is a joke, it’s not fucking funny and we don’t have time for it! We need to find Josh!”

“This isn’t a joke.”

“Then show me.” You demanded, turning to look at Ashley with teary eyes. “Show me. I have a hard time believing that this isn’t another cruel joke like-- like the spirit board session. We don’t have time for jokes.”

“We’re not joking. And trust me, you don’t want to see the inside of that shed.” Chris insisted, voice so serious that it made you realize he was telling the truth and tears rose in your eyes. “I would never joke about something like that. That maniac strapped Josh and Ashley to a wall and-- and there was a circular chainsaw that would have killed one of them and I had to choose who had to die.”

“And you chose Josh.”

“I am so sorry.”

The tears were now flowing down your face freely, warm against your cold cheeks and sobs bubbled up in your chest. Josh was dead. The man you loved and who you’d planned a future with, was dead and you hadn’t managed to save him. You hadn’t found him soon enough and now he was dead. Chris and Ashley shared a look before they embraced you from either side, helping you stay upright as your knees began to buckle and sobs wracked your body.

“I didn’t find him in time.”

“This isn’t your fault.” Ashley assured you, tears in her eyes. “There is a killer on the mountain and whatever you saw in those mines, apparently. It was that maniac’s fault, not yours. And-- and what happened to your father all those years ago wasn’t your fault, either.”

“Ashley is right. I know this is terribly reminiscent of what happened to your father but neither of these things were your fault.” Chris promised before taking a deep breath. “What did you see in the mines?”

“Some sort of creature that looked like-- like a walking corpse, all pale and emaciated. It was so fast and-- and loud and I was so scared.” You got out between your sobs. “We have to get Jess out of there.”

Ashley nodded quickly. “We just met Emily and Matt. They’re going to the radio tower to get help. We need to go to the lodge to find Sam.”

“We can find Jess together. Chances are Mike is already looking for her.” Chris reasoned before looking at you. “Will you be alright?”

You looked back at the shed behind them and took a shaky breath. “Is it gruesome? I feel horrible about simply leaving with-- without saying goodbye.”

“Trust me; you don’t want to see him.” Chris said softly. “It’s best to remember him like he was the last time you saw him.”

“We were joking around in the maintenance shed and-- and planning on what we’d do once we got back to the lodge.” You whispered softly. “We heard a noise and he went out in order to protect me.”

“Then remember him like that.” Ashley urged you. “Remember him as a loving, sweet, and funny guy who tried to protect you and loved you a lot.”

You just nodded at her words because you knew she was trying her best to comfort you even if she wasn’t helping a lot. “Where is everyone else?”

“Well, as I said Matt and Emily are on the way to the radio tower. I’m pretty sure Sam is still at the lodge and Mike is probably around here somewhere looking for Jess who is apparently still in the mines. Perhaps we can go get Sam to help us look for Jess.” Chris mused and looked back at the direction of the lodge. “We need to hurry.”

Ashley nodded and reached out to take your hand in an attempt to offer comfort to you. “We have to stay together.”

“Chris?”

“Yes?”

“Did Josh suffer?”

“I don’t know. I’m so sorry.”

[felixsterprankster]

Sooooo

My friend and I made short fanfics based on THIS POST for our olnf MCs

For a little context

Falco and Allison's are legally siblings as Allison was adopted from Englad at the age of 3 and is a few months younger than Falco.

And for this supernatural AU fanfic. Allison is a Wendigo whe Falco and Opal are Selkies

Without further ado

FANFICS

First fic is of Allison's Incident with being a hidden Wendigo by @rosieofthyposie (my bestie/Sister)

˚☆˖° ˚☆˖° ˚☆˖° ˚☆˖° ˚☆˖° ˚☆˖° ˚☆˖° ˚☆˖° ˚☆˖°

"Hey! You guys should totally come over for camping in my backyard!"

It was just an innocent request from the young Tamarack. Not like Allison or Ivory knew what a camping trip entailed. Naivety still ran all around the group about the truth of the two. So Ivory was quick to agree and of course dragged Ally along. Not like Ally protested much. She had a liking for Tam and Qiu. They weren't going to be far from the Culdesac anyway.

Just as Ivory and Ally arrived, Qiu was just behind and Tam had set up a table and her sleeping bag next to a ring of rocks. Ally tilted her head slightly but didn't question the ring of rocks. Maybe she should have. Tam's face lit up with a bright smile that was contagious for the other three kids. Even Ally who didn't smile often. Qiu then placed the marshmallows he brought, Ally and Ivory placing the chocolate down that Tam requested they bring as well. Tam already had the gram crackers. A confusing name for Ally to comprehend. A gram is a weight, nor does it look like a normal cracker but she already asked Ama what it meant and she simply replied 'that's just what they're called'. How inconclusive. Seeing the ingredients on the table now, Tam clapped her hands together. "Now we just need sticks!"

Sticks? Ally already sees metal rods. Would those not work for sticking the food on? But again, Ally doesn't ask and just follows Ivory to pick up sticks of varying sizes as they saw Qiu and Tamarack picking up. Qiu of course brought the bigger sticks and logs it seems, placing them in the stone circle. Tam followed suit and Ivory and Ally were right behind. After adjusting the sticks and logs together, Tam threw on some dry leaves and stuffed them in the little stick tent before rummaging in her bag for something. Ally temporarily was distracted by a rabbit that she pointed out to Ivory so they were both distracted from the fact that Tam pulled out some matches. The bunny was checking out some berries near by and so the two little creatures stared at it for a while. That was until Ally felt her body growing warmer. Not just naturally but from 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. She was confused for a second before looking back to what was a pile of sticks and leaves and is now a very 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙜 fire. Her heart rate picked up and she let out a mix between a hiss and a growl. Without a thought in her head now, she raised a hand ready to attack the person who started the fire but Ivory as quick. She grabbed Ally by the hands and turned her away from the group, earning confused stares but she just smiled. "Ally isn't used to fires... She was just a little scared. We'll... Be right back."

Quickly she pushed Ally away and quickly to the house where Ama was reading a book. She glanced up as she heard the door open and frowned seeing Ally shaking so much. "What happened?"

Just hearing the softness of Ama's voice was enough to ease Ally's fear and she quickly ran up to Ama, clinging to her shirt. This would take a minute before she's ready to talk about it and Ivory returned to the other two just briefly to relay the news that Ally wasn't feeling well. 'I ruined another night...'

˚☆˖° ˚☆˖° ˚☆˖° ˚☆˖° ˚☆˖° ˚☆˖° ˚☆˖° ˚☆˖° ˚☆˖°

And here is the one I made about Falco!

˚☆˖° ˚☆˖° ˚☆˖° ˚☆˖° ˚☆˖° ˚☆˖° ˚☆˖° ˚☆˖° ˚☆˖°

Ivory was a Selkie, same with her En Mamma, while her sister, Allison, was not a Selkie but a Wendigo. Erikssons made it work with their new life, even away from any big body of water.

Right now the culdesac kids were hanging out in the Eriksson estate. Hanging out to avoid the cold of the change of Autumn to Winter, specifically, Ivorys room.

"I'm so happy it's Friday! And I Don't have Gymnastics tomorrow!" Ivory said triumphantly to her friends and sister. "Yaaaay!" Tamarack said as she jumped up and and down at the news of her friend being free tomorrow to play.

"Do you want to hang out? Maybe go into town?" her other neighbor piped in with his input. "Actually, I was thinking of playing dolls with Knapp! Maybe the day after AFTER my Gymnastics class! Is the rest of the club gonna go?" "hhmm maybe. I don't know"

"Oooo what's this?!" Tamarack said pulling something off Ivorys bed. "Isn't that the pelt you showed me a few weeks ago Ivy? Before Misses Eriksson told you not to take it out of the house?" Qiu chimed in. Ivory turned to see what the 2 were talking about just to freeze. 'MY SKIN!' she panicked. "N-No!" Allison shouted, shocking Tamarack and Qiu, as she rarely raised her voice.

"Don't touch that!" Ivory shouted in an obviously panicked voice as she jumped up to take it from Tamarack and clutched it to her body, slightly turning away from them.

"I'm sorry Ivory! I didn't mean to make you mad! " Tamarack said quickly, she really didn't mean to make Ivory upset. Both neighbors visibility startled from the normally hyper but also Level Headed girl sounding so panicked and... Scared... They had never seen this side of Ivory.

Allison moved quickly to get near Ivory. Allison was there after the incident with Qiu and her skin. Ivory wanted to show her friends her skin, but after their En Mamma saw Ivory showing her skin to Qiu and was about to let him hold it, she was quick to put an end to it, out of fear. She quickly scolded Ivory before bringing her inside to tell her why she shouldn't show off her skin to people.

After hearing a few stories of En Mamma's friends who had their skins taken and were forced to leave the ocean forever.

It filled Ivory with fear..... So much fear... She likes her neighbors... She LOVES her neighbors... But the thought of that happening to her scared her so deeply.

She knew her En Mamma never meant to scare her like that, but it was still scary to think that one day she could be forced to go with someone just cause they took her skin.

"I... I'm Sorry!" she said quickly before booking it out of her room and right to her En Mamma's room.

˚☆˖° ˚☆˖° ˚☆˖° ˚☆˖° ˚☆˖° ˚☆˖° ˚☆˖° ˚☆˖° ˚☆˖°

[katzenprinz]

Hi. Is there a chance Elliott saw wendigo like in until dawn and not Big Foot?💀 I remember he said it was bald...

Ooooh, that’s a good connection to make, but not what we intended. He definitely saw some creature that defies classification but most closely fits what people imagine Big Foot to be. So that’s what he and SOCOM officially described it as.

On a related note, Gabe and I have played all of the Dark Anthology games as well as Before Dawn and The Quarry. (The only Supermassive game we have yet to play is The Casting of Frank Stone because we only buy physical releases and it does not have one yet.) While we have established that in the Say Nothing universe there are various different supernatural creatures, we’re not adopting all of Supermassive’s depictions of those creatures. Like, when Mosson was a werewolf, we definitely don’t picture him like the werewolves in The Quarry (because, frankly, while they are really cool from a horror perspective, they’re ugly af.) Instead, we picture the more traditional versions of werewolves. More similar to Van Hellsing. We like our weres with fur lol.