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sanguineterrain · 7 months

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Could I humbly request Dullahan (basically a headless horseman with a whip made from a spine) Jason giving reader a ride on Halloween? If not, that’s okay.

what a delightful prompt anon! i took some batman-inspired liberties here, so jason is more of a regular headless horseman than a dullahan specifically (kept the whip tho bc man, what a badass weapon). but omg it fits him SO well. hope you like it!

headless horseman!jason todd x gn!reader. spooky themes. i guess it's a different time period -- i was imagining 19th century. reader knew jason before he died.

send halloween requests!!

****

You should've taken a carriage.

That's all you can think as you cross the border from Clarence County to Gotham County. You've been walking for an hour, and you're only just entering Gotham. The sun went down ages ago.

It's mostly wilderness outside of the city, and it's generally safe. Rich folk build vacation cabins in these woods. Others hike and fish along the river.

You still should've taken a carriage. Even if no people pose a threat to you out here, the forest is still dangerous. Bears. Snakes.

...Things not of this world.

No, you can't think that way.

Your basket of farm goods makes your arm ache. You switch it to your other hand. You're beginning to think that making this trip wasn't worth it at all. Certainly not if a bear mauls you.

A twig snaps and you jump about three feet in the air. You skitter away from the tree line, heart beating fast.

You wait. You have a glass bottle of milk to throw at whatever comes out of the woods.

Nothing. Silence. The trees might as well be dead.

Slowly, you untense, muscles slowly going slack. A twig probably didn't even snap; it's only your imagination. Yes. Right.

You tuck the milk back into your basket and adjust yourself, continuing your trek.

"Awful late to be out."

This time, you do throw the milk bottle. It lands with a thud in the soft dirt. The voice speaks again. He sounds amused.

"You missed me."

You whirl around and gawp. How had you missed a man on a horse? Surely you would've heard footsteps or the jingle of the straps.

The horse is huge, with a shiny, black coat. Its rider is proportionally large, broad shoulders straining his crimson hood. You can't make out his face, the opening nothing but a void. You squint, but grow dizzy when you look too hard.

It's such a strange thought, but your first instinct is that you know the rider. Intimately so. Like an old friend.

The horse is a shadow, the edges of its mane blurry. It nickers and drags its hoof over the dirt. It also has a hood, so you can't make out its face either.

The hooded figure watches you from his horse. At least, you think he does.

"Are you lost?" he asks. His voice echoes strangely, like it's coming from underground.

"No," you say immediately. "I'm on my way back to Gotham."

Most people have enough sense not to challenge Gotham citizens.

He tilts his head. You wish you could see his face.

"I can give you a ride. I'm headed there myself."

There is a red knight's helmet tied to the saddle. You look at it, then at him.

"I'll manage," you say. "I know my way."

"It's dangerous to travel alone on foot. Especially so late."

He dismounts the horse. Even on the ground, his presence is overwhelming. There is a long, bone-white whip fastened to his hip. Are those...?

"What's in the helmet?" you ask.

"Why do you think there's something inside?" His voice echoes again.

He goes and retrieves the bottle of milk you threw. It isn't cracked, which is fortunate. He opens the basket hooked over your arm and gently places the milk inside. Your heart pounds the entire time.

"I won't hurt you," he says, stepping back. "Gotham is my city. You are mine to protect."

"Gotham belongs to the Bat."

"Not for much longer," he says, almost snarling.

You look at the horse, which has been eerily still. The moon is high in the sky. Stars dance outside of the city smog.

"If it makes you feel safer," he says, voice softer. "You can hold my whip. If I do anything you don't like, you can be sure I won't do it again."

You don't like that idea; you hope you don't have to use the whip on him, though he is a stranger. But you like his voice, even if it echoes oddly. And you like how gentle he is, how calm his horse remains. You are sure he won't hurt you, even though there is no proof for you to confirm that.

You extend your hand.

"Alright," you say. "Please take me home."

He pushes you onto the horse, who doesn't even stir when you get on its back. Then he mounts with ease. He slides his whip out and gives it to you; on further inspection, you realize it's a spine. The horse takes off at a gallop, and you cling to the hooded man so you won't fall off.

"Are you a soldier?" you ask, wind biting at your face. He is cold but full of strength.

"I was."

"What should I call you?"

He thinks for a moment, steady under the brutal pace.

"You may call me Red Hood."

"Haven't you got a name?" you ask.

"I did," Hood says. "I'm not certain that it's mine anymore."

He sounds young. You wish you could see his face.

You arrive in Gotham sooner than you should, even on horse. Hood dismounts again and helps you down, strong hands on your waist. You land on the ground in a whoosh, and Hood holds you for a second longer than necessary. You linger against him and squint, trying to find his eyes. You can't.

"Will you show me your face?" you ask.

Red Hood immediately steps back. You hold your basket to your chest.

"You'd never forgive me if I did," he says, and the echo is back.

"I feel like I know you," you say, stepping towards him, and Hood puts more distance between you.

For the first time, the horse whinnies. It's a ghastly sound, like it's in pain, and you flinch. You spin around to see what spooked the horse, but by the time you do, it's gone.

And so is the Red Hood.

The whip, however, is still wrapped around your own waist; it's your only reminder that he was here at all.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd fanfiction #headless horseman #jason todd halloween #red hood fanfiction #batman fanfiction #dc fanfic #halloween fanfiction #batman halloween

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starheart-blog · 8 months

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Can everyone do a headless horseman from Sleepy hollow TV show fox? But with a X reader?

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steelcladbutterfly · 2 years

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Yandere Ghost: House

This is the fourth of ten halloween fics now. I enjoyed this one and I’d like to think I made it somewhat layered. Anyways, hope you enjoy it!

Prompts: Fog, Forest, House

Ghosts are known as many different things across many different cultures, names for them include; apparition, shade, demon, specter, phantom, ghoul, and spirit. In general, however, they are known to be the soul or spirit of a dead person. They are sometimes known to only remain on the material plane until they have fulfilled their purpose, other times they remain until they are banished or otherwise forced out or destroyed.

Your panting filled the air as you rushed through the forest, branches leaving long red marks all along your face and upper body, a few trails of blood joining the stream falling from your clenched hand as you continued to run full tilt in a desperate bid to escape the fog swiftly filling in the air behind you. You wanted to go home, wishing there was a way to turn the day around so that you didn’t follow your friends into the woods and into an abandoned house deep into the trees.

They had wanted to check it out, spend the day before Halloween digging into places they should have just left alone. And you had followed them like the fool you were despite the warnings and tales told across town about the woods and the house left abandoned and rotting within. There were many stories, with different ideas and assumptions, but all had the subject and warnings in common.

~~~~~

Something horrible happened in that house to the young owner, he had been found rotting in the front hall, guts strewn about, left for a week before anyone thought to check on him. His wife was found three weeks afterwards, shivering and unresponsive in the next town over. She had apparently been attacked as well, but had managed to get away, but, before they could get any of the story out of her, she died from the wounds, treatment having been administered too late to save her from infection. No one knew for certain what happened, but anytime someone had tried to move in after, they either left, ranting about something wrong in the house, or were never heard from again. And anyone who thought it was a good idea to mess with the house were soon found in the same manner as the original owner; rotting and strewn about in a bloody mess of twisting limbs and eviserated organs.

After everything that happened, it was left abandoned and rotting for years, until only those who had been children at the time of the first death were still alive, old and still scared by the woods and what they swore lurked within.

~~~~~

When you and your friends had arrived, the house looked almost slumped over on itself, standing in a small clearing with an overgrown garden and crumbling porch. The swinging bench to the side creaked eerily, held up only by the horribly rusted metal that made up its chains.

You shivered, instantly feeling eyes upon you. You glanced towards the top floor, seeing moth eaten curtains move slightly behind the cracked glass and warped frame. Just when you were about to complain, one of your friends surged forth, leaping over the ivy and vines choking whatever remained of the front yard and onto the old wood that made up the porch. You were pushed along in the swell of gathering excitement as you slowly went up the groaning steps and over the swollen and warped boards of the porch right under the massive hole torn through the awning above.

You quickly found yourself alone as you felt almost drawn towards the second floor, wincing at every creak of the old wood beneath your feet, listening to the laughter and thumps as everyone else explored below. You glanced around cautiously as you pushed open the door to the room you thought the curtains moved in. They looked to be the right shade and you slunk over to look outside to find the correct view, not noticing the door closing behind you and locking with a firm click.

It seemed to be the master bedroom, large bed with dusty and decaying sheets left like the rest of the house to rot. There were distinct differences in the two sides of the room, indicative of the tastes of separate people. You noticed something glinting in the fractured light that filtered through the cracked glass, and found it to be a large locket. You shivered as a sudden chill seemed to pass over you.

Looking more closely, curiosity getting the better of you, you traced the elaborate design etched into the front before flipping it over to find a sweet message written into the back.

“I will always love you, my heart.”

As soon as you spoke the line out loud, the chill was back and stronger than before. Your finger suddenly caught onto a latch in your jolt of surprise at the sudden draft and, still curious, you twisted it as the locket slowly opened to reveal a picture on one side; a man and a woman smiling towards the camera. From the limited background, you could vaguely make out the house, new and tall with a small, carefully taken care of garden in front. It looked nothing like the ominous, vine infested, rotting nightmare you were currently in. The original owners, you had to assume, long since passed in the horrible fashion everyone knew about.

You frowned, a sudden sadness filling you as you tried to compare the happy picture in the locket to the stories of the death and misery that soon followed. Looking back down, you noticed more writing within.

“There is nothing I would not do for you, my heart. If you ever left I would do anything to have you back in my arms once again.”

The chill slowly caressed your arms, as it seemed to settle and loom on your back and over your shoulder. You were shivering and terrified as a sudden voice filled your ears.

“I meant every word when I had our locket engraved. Death and life cannot keep me from you any longer. It was so lonely waiting for you.”

The chill moved around you, as what felt like icy fingers suddenly tilted your head up as the chill drew closer and closer. You felt frozen, unable to move as the force seemed to hold you in stasis. But the sound of a crash and the hooting and hollering of your friends below drew both you and the presence out of the predicament you had walked yourself into. The cold seemed to grow worse as the grip on your face tightened slightly, loosening only after you let out a squeak at the slight pain.

The icy feeling drew away slightly, almost reluctantly letting you slip from its grasp. It drew closer only to lay a chilly kiss upon your forehead, its form seeming to solidify the longer it was around you.

“Stay here and be safe. I’ll deal with the interlopers swiftly. I will be back soon.”

The presence faded and you felt yourself able to move once again, even as the ominous promise settled into your brain. You paused for a moment, unsure on what to do before a scream rang out. The sounds of a fight reached you and you jumped into action, trying the door and finding it locked. It should open from the inside, but no matter how you rattled the knob and banged on the door, nothing budged. The screams grew and the sound of thumping and sobs started up as it seemed your friends tried to run.

You were trapped in a room as something with the intention to return massacred your friends. So, with desperation, you turned to the cracked glass. You tore the curtain off and wrapped it around your fist, gritting your teeth as you began to punch out the glass from the warped and swollen shut frame. Finally, after a few hits the glass shattered, falling to the ground outside in a mess of shining and shimmering shards, bouncing off the awning below on the way down.

The sounds below continued though there were noticeably fewer screams filling the air. You climbed out, carefully settling onto the solid part of the awning before you, avoiding the few pieces of glass that stayed. You scooted towards the gaping hole you knew was above the porch, hoping and praying that it didn’t give out under you. You found yourself carefully falling through the hole with only the slightest twinge in your joints as you landed. You stood up, turning to see if you could help who remained only to find the door thrown open as someone desperately tried to escape.

The chill returned, covering your friend in a fine layer of frost before it paused, finally noticing your presence. You shivered, feeling the eyes upon you once more as the voice filled the air even as your friend turned purple, gasping for air and scrabbling fruitlessly at their neck as icy marks in the form of fingers formed around it.

“My heart, what are you doing outside? What happened to your hand? How did you get hurt? Please, come back inside, now.”

The firmness of the tone brooked no argument, but the sound of desperate gasps followed closely by a meaty crunch as your friend’s neck was snapped right before your eyes incited your flight instincts. You bolted, only speeding up as a sudden wail filled the air.

~~~~~

You had looked behind only once, seeing the fog take over a deer you had passed, stopping it in its desperate leap away. It fell over, seeming to be completely frozen solid. There was no way to fight that, so you were left to run away, heading away from wherever the fog surged forth from to follow you, nipping at you heels but never encasing you within it.

That should have tipped you off, but adrenaline and fear left little room for thoughts other than to run from the threat following close behind. You found yourself bursting back into the small clearing you had run from only a few minutes ago, having been chased in a large loop. You looked around frantically for an escape but the line of trees encircling the clearing was filled with the fog that had frozen a deer solid.

You had no where to run to now. The door still hung open, but the body had vanished. You stepped closer, stumbling when a hand suddenly latched onto your arm, tugging you inside as the door slammed shut behind you. You found yourself guided into what seemed to be a sun room, overlooking the overgrown garden.

The form pressed itself close to you, now solid in a way it wasn’t just ten minutes ago. You were pressed into its lap, seeming to hover above the chair it chose to sit in as you felt yourself surrounded by the icy chill it seemed to emanate.

The voice that accompanied the bone deep chill was light, almost a whisper, even when it seemed to fill the air around you.

“It’s not lonely anymore. I was waiting for you to return but only interlopers emerged. Visitors only harm this place, but not you, never you. I kept them away and when they refused to leave I took matters into my own hands. I kept our house safe and secure, waiting for you to return to me. And now, I’ll keep you safe from them all, just stay with me. Stay with me, my heart and I’ll never let anything happen to you again. We can rebuild our life, tend to the garden and do everything we never had the chance to do before.”

As the firm and icy arms settled on your waist, tugging you against a firm chest, as kisses began to spread along your neck and all along the various wounds that you had inflicted upon yourself in your attempt to escape, and as the feeling of hair began to tickle your cheek, the fog outside only grew thicker as the trees seemed to bend closer to the house, working with the fog to block out anything beyond the clearing and house you were now trapped within.

#yandere #yandere ghost #yandere x reader #yandere ghost x reader #yandere monsters #this honestly falls somewhere between fae and headless horseman

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bleedingichorhearts · 3 months

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𝕬𝖈𝖊𝖕𝖍𝖆𝖑𝖔𝖚𝖘

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: First time trying this.Have the snippet of my writing.

TW: Decapitated head?

Arms out, stalking my way forward. I felt like I was trying to move my way through a swamp. Unseeable roots coming out of nowhere. Thick fog coming up to my waist. Dark branches overhanging above. Whispering incoherent things within its shadowed bark.

A yelp, and rapid shots sounded off from somewhere. Echoing throughout the forest while I halted my moment. Ears straining to pick up anything my other senses couldn’t. A faint thudding was heard before it faded out.

The hair on the back of my neck suddenly rose. My gut growing heavy, telling me something just isn’t right with this forest anymore as it became eerily silent.

Despite my gut telling me to flee. I crouched in my place, alert. Trying to decipher what the hell just happened through the fog. Trying to justify the reason not to run.

Did someone just surprise themselves with a tree and shot at it? Did they get scared by an animal and shoot at it in defense?

Quickly moving my back up against a tree. I held my breath as the same thudding from before came back louder. Heavier. My eyes blindly trying to search through the dark fog for the source. Seeing nothing but the grayish-blue of the fog and moonlight combined.

Exhaling slowly, I lowered myself to the ground, and patted the area around me. Searching for something to protect myself with. Eventually, finding a piece of wood, and held it up close to my chest.

Hearing the thudding getting closer, and closer. I pinpointed that the sound came from behind the tree I took defense on.

Tightening my grip on the piece of wood. I readied it above my shoulders. Elbows out, ready to hit this unknown threat as hard as possible.

Men, were dropping like flys out here. The cause unresolved. Not a single thing on our enemy.

First to peek out from the side of my tree was the big, glowing eyes made of crimson. Its nostrils having the same glow too. Almost like it would breathe fire. Then the slick, jet black pelt of the beast. Its long mane matching the color of its pelt. Flowing almost gracefully along its shifting movements.

Just as I spotted the mud, caked hair of a decapitated head of some poor soul on the black saddlebags, the beast reared up in surprise. Crying out as the rider tried to regain control.

Adrenaline shooting through my system. I quickly swung up at the rider. Hitting them square in the stomach. A loud crack reverberating off as the wood shattering upon impact. Knocking the rider off his horse and to the ground with a heavy thud.

Flicking off the splinters from my gloved hands. I swiftly unsheathed my dagger within my vest, and pinned the rider beneath me. My knee digging harshly into their body underneath their ribs with a hand on their shoulder for stable strike.

Rising the blade up. I lifted it above my head. Going for a fatal attack. Yet froze in place.

This rider was cloaked in black. An old, yet polished mercenary uniform from way back. A sword sheathed around their waist.

This… man, didn’t belong here. He was from somewhere else. Somewhere else, entirely.

What was even more unsettling, was this man didn’t even have a head.

#headless horseman #headlesshorseman #mythical creatures #myth #folklore #dullahan #horseman #hessian mercenary #first post #first writing #sleepy hollow #reader insert #x reader #oneshot

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blackypanther9 · 1 year

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Even after all these years I still love you – Father!Headless Horseman( Sleepy Hollow Movie 1999) x Son!Reader

To make it more realistic, I decided to write German…a LOT. The translations are right underneath the German text and I made them bold, so you can see it better. I tell you gladly, that the Hessian is German and from my own knowledge German people have a big difficulty to learn English properly and talk flawlessly with someone. I suspect that in the 17th century it was even worse, so yeah. ENJOY READING IT THOUGH !

WARNINGS!: Fluff, angst, fighting, use of Magic, Evil Mary Van Tassel (Like she usually is) and cursing ! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED !

“We should have believed him a little !”, young Masbeth said to Ichabod.

“I don’t believe that he is his Son ! And I also don’t believe what he said that it is Lady Van Tassel.”, Ichabod said stubbornly.

“Like you didn’t believe that the Horseman does exist ?”, Katrina snarled.

They arrived at the tree of the dead and Ichabod found out that the young man wasn’t lying. The tree was a gateway between two worlds and behind the entrance was the sword where the Horseman was buried.

He found the head missing and slowly he started to believe what the male said.

“His skull was taken by Lady Mary Van Tassel. She caused him to die already as she was only a child, like I was. The next ones will be a Family. The very Family that gave you Gunpowder, as your horse.”

Why was he so foolish and told the man to stay out of his case ?

But he saw him again. The headless Horseman was at the Killian’s house, but didn’t enter yet. In front of him stood M/n. M/n Schaffner. Son of the headless Horseman. He had his sword drawn and tears in his eyes.

“Zwing mich nicht gegen dich zu kämpfen, Papa. (Don’t force me to fight against you, Papa.)”, M/n begged.

The headless Horseman was frozen in place and turned to his horse, Daredevil.

“Draufgänger…Bitte… (Daredevil...please…)”

Daredevil came over to M/n and then licked his face softly. M/n hugged Daredevil’s neck and stroked his mane.

His Father just stood there frozen.

“Was ? Dachtest wohl dass ich verstorben bin, huh ? (What ? Thought that I died, eh ?)”, M/n asked.

He approached M/n carefully but after 3 steps he tried to grip where his head would be and fell to his knees in pain.

“Komm schon Dad ! Du bist stärker als diese Hexe ! Du warst schon immer viel stärker als alle anderen. Ganz egal worin sie stärker waren, du hast sie alle besiegt ! Kämpfe ! (Come on, Dad ! You are stronger than this witch ! You always were much stronger than all the others. No matter in what they were stronger, you defeated them all ! Fight !)”

Ichabod could see that the Horseman tried his best to fight back, but he didn’t seem to make it and M/n saw that too. He sobbed.

“Ich kann dich nicht noch mehr töten lassen. Es tut mir Leid. (I can’t let you kill even more. I’m sorry.)”

With that M/n gripped his sword in a tight hold and stood his ground, ready to fight his own Father. He may be controlled, but he couldn’t let him continue like this.

“You can’t win this, M/n !”, Ichabod yelled.

M/n jerked his head to his left and stared at Ichabod. He smiled a sad smile.

“It is worth trying. He’s my Dad, Ichabod. I know that he will surely even kill me under HER control, but I have to try and stop him. I know he doesn’t want this…killing these people. He isn’t like this.”

Ichabod stared at the Horseman trying to fight the control off, then at M/n. He was ready to face death by his own Father’s hands, in order to help both sides… Why did this sound so wrong ? Shouldn’t Ichabod be happy that he still tries ?

He shook his head.

“He will NEVER forgive himself if he kills you, M/n. You know that he can’t control this. Do you really want to make him cry when he has his skull back ? Do you really not want to be here when he gets it back ?”

“You didn’t even believe me when I told you about the Black Witch… Why would you now ?”, M/n asked broken.

Ichabod wanted to say something, but he couldn’t. M/n had a fair point…

“My Father taught me a lot of fighting. Even if I die…I at least tried. I know I can hold him off for a little while. Get the Killians to the church. He can’t step on sacred ground.”

Then he looked at his Father again, but Daredevil blocked M/n’s view of his Dad suddenly.

“Daredevil move damn it !”, M/n hissed at his Father’s horse.

He didn’t budge until M/n gasped and passed out.

“M/N !”, Ichabod yelled.

M/n’s Father hit the back of his head with his sword’s handle and knocked him out. Ichabod took the male and dragged him a bit away from any curious eyes and then went back, only to hear a child scream and see Brom appear.

Brom shot the Horseman, but all it did was throw him off of Daredevil. He got up again.

M/n came back running and yelled at Brom as he attacked his Father with his gun.

“Stop you fool ! Don’t you see that he is sparing you ?!”, he yelled.

His Father gave Brom a smack under his chin and then continued to walk away, only for Brom to throw a throwing knife into the headless Horseman’s side.

“You idiot ! Stop it before he changes his mind and kills you !”

M/n’s Father threw it back at Brom and into his thigh. He hissed in pain, pulled it out and then grabbed the next best weapons, which were two sickles.

M/n glared at Brom in rage and while they fought he pulled out his sword and sneaked up on Brom. He hit him hard on the head, knocking him down.

“Will you leave him alone, for Fuck’s sake ?! Do you HAVE a death wish ?! You do realize that none of your tricks killed him, yes ?! Undead, dumbass ! You can’t kill something that is dead !”

Brom glared at M/n.

“I’ll get him !”, he said determined.

“Oh you will get him, alright. You will get him pissed off and ready to change his mind and just kill you ! Stupid men like you never know when to stop, think and quit being annoying !”

“I am not stupid ! I am just not a coward, like you !”

“EXCUSE ME ?! There is a difference between being brave and utterly dumb, smartass ! He is UNDEAD he is already DEAD no MORTAL can KILL HIM ! You CAN’T kill something TWICE ! So wake up, you jealous ass wipe and FACE reality !”

“He is right, Brom. You can’t win this, no matter how many people would fight with you.”, Ichabod said.

“Cowards !”, he snarled and went at M/n’s Father again.

“THEN GET FUCKING KILLED YOU ASS WIPE !”, M/n yelled and then left, sick and tired of Brom.

“M/n !”, Ichabod called.

“No ! I ain’t dealing with this shit !”

Then he was gone. Ichabod tried to make them break up the fight, but this time the headless Horseman didn’t let Brom get away alive.

The next day…

Ichabod, young Masbeth and Katrina were in the Western Woods at the grave of the Horseman.

“I believe M/n… With Lady Van Tassel taking his head.”, Ichabod said.

“We do too.”, Katrina said.

Young Masbeth nodded.

“I found a black bag in my parents’ bedroom under their bed. His skull was in there, but I couldn’t take it away. Maybe at night we steal it when the Horseman is also awake so he can have it back.”, she said.

“Bad idea. Tonight your Father will die Katrina and your so called Stepmother will fake her death and hide away. Tomorrow night you are planned to die. She knows that you found his skull, she won’t let any of you close again. She also knows about my existence now, so we have a whole load of problems storming our way.”, M/n said.

They whipped their heads around and saw him leaning against the Tree of the Dead, looking at his shoes.

“Then what do we do ?”, Ichabod asked.

“We let her think she wins.”

“What ?”

“You do know that Father let you get away with a lot, Ichabod, right ?”

“What do you mean ?”

“You disturbed his grave, hurt his tree, dared to enter his territory, meddled in his affairs and now possibly have his Son in your hands. He spared you a lot until now.”

“HIS Tree ?”

“This isn’t just a grave and a gateway. Father LIVES inside that tree. Like a house. You hurt his tree, he feels it and knows of it. You enter his Woods, he feels you intruding, you dig around on his grave, he knows. Already three reasons to kill you, because that naturally means that you threaten him and challenge him to fight you, yet he spared you. Why do you think is that ?”

Ichabod was silent, in shock of what M/n told him.

“Father hears everything here. That is why he spared you. You want to help and he knows that, but Mary is getting very angry at you. The next time you better be somewhere where he isn’t, because she will command him to kill anyone in his way, then he has no control of sparing you again.”

“How are you so sure of that ?”, young Masbeth asked.

“She knows everything Ichabod found out and he continues to get too close to uncover her. So she sends Father now against everyone and anyone that dare to stand in her way. It is a tactical move of hers and very clever. Next time we face him…we are forced to fight him, no matter what. I know we all can’t kill him, but I can hold him back for some time, not much but some. You and Katrina will run and go after that Witch and get Father’s skull back and if you have to kill that Whore for it so fucking be it.”

“But my Father…”

“Has to sadly die. I don’t like it either, but only with that we get close to her and the skull later on. She will try and prove her innocence by faking her death and then kidnapping you Katrina. She will try to frame you. Then she will summon Father again to kill you. Ichabod and I will hide close to the old Mill and after she summoned Father, we will try and get the skull back, if that doesn’t work you run to Father’s resting place and we will meet there. This witch won’t leave. She will want to see how you die so I’m sure she will be there.”

“But now that your Father knows…”

“She doesn’t know. He doesn’t have to tell her anything, not that he even could, he has no mouth and he barely knew how to write and read. Ah…sorry for embarrassing you Father. But yeah ! He can’t tell her anything. All he has to do, is kill for her. He may know of the plan, but it’s not like he is willing to kill any of us. He is fighting this spell and that could buy us some more time. She doesn’t have full control of him as I read in a book that was in the cave of The Crone Witch. She was Mary’s sister and she killed her 10 minutes ago and went back to the Van Tassel estate.”

They stared at him in utter shock.

“If we get Father to stop riding Daredevil tonight I can use the knowledge I have.”

“And what is that ?”, Ichabod asked.

“She may have control of him now. But if he has an heir of his blood and they spill their blood onto him, just a drop is enough, then the heir has also control of the said relative. Not only that, it is stronger than an outsider’s Magic. If we get him to stop for at least 10 seconds, he could have partly his own control back, which means…”

“He has a better way of fighting her spells off of him.”, Katrina finished.

“Bingo.”

“So we wait…?”, young Masbeth asked.

“No. We can’t wait… We need to prepare a little trap for Daredevil and Father. She grows stronger and gets more control of him the longer he is under her spells. He is getting weaker, which is a horrible sign, because my Father is anything BUT weak. He cut down men that were twice his size and 10 times stronger than him. This little mind control trick shouldn’t be a problem to him, but she must have used more than one to make him get weaker with every attempt he tries to fight her off.”

“Then wouldn’t this be useless ?”, Ichabod asked.

“Not really. I just need some more time until tonight to see if I can find the counter spell. It is definitely a draining spell she put on him and a strong one at that. Father must have gotten stronger after his death and transportation to Hell. He shows a lot of that, but his mind is unaffected by changes ? No, no, no my dear friends. She used the most powerful spell that existed and I found it in the Crone’s spell book.”

“Can you even do Magic ?”, Katrina asked.

“Ehhh, yes. I mean Dad didn’t know until now, but I am a Necromancer. I started learning, when I was 8 years old, with The Crone. I took her under my wing, while Mary just disappeared. It surprised us both that I had such powerful and dangerous Magic. I had to walk on eggshells for a long while until I could really practice.”

“Why ?”

“Well…Necromancy is…deadly for the ones who wield it… Yes you can resurrect people and all that, but it comes with a prize. First off, you need enough death around you to do so.”

“Death ?”

“Necromancy is death magic. You get Death Magic from dead people. Graveyards are mostly the best to learn and get stronger, because you suck the death inside you. It gets transformed into pure energy and then you have Magic. The more you use them, the weaker you get, because you need to recharge the Magic, which means you need to go to graveyards and everywhere where death is. If you use too much at once…you can kill yourself. I trained so much that I know my limits and that I even stretched them out. I never used them in a fight, but I will if I have to.”

They stared at M/n in utter shock.

“Why did you never revive your Father ?”, young Masbeth asked.

“I never had enough Magic to do so. Also this can go horribly wrong… One wrong move with your fingers or a second you lose concentration and you bring back a Monster. Mostly ones that rip open the bodies of the living and eat their insides. I really wasn’t ready to revive my Father and possibly turn him into that. Eww no.”

The other three had a look of horror on their faces as they heard that.

“When I share my blood with him, we will be mixed together and have a bond that will break hers with him. But that also means he will have my Magic. I hope he won’t use it, because that could backfire badly for the both of us. While he can’t die twice by mortal weapons, Necromancy can and it definitely will kill me if he uses them without knowing what to do to control it.”

“Can you break the bond when this is all over ?”

“Yes. When he has his head back, he is complete and practically alive at night. Still a ghost and all, but he can bleed. We cut his right wrist and mine and then we lay them above each other and he has to say…’I banish the blood of my relative, for I have full control over my body, soul and mind’. Then his and my blood part ways and no one controls him anymore.”

“Sounds simple.”, Ichabod said.

“It truly isn’t going to be simple. When our blood mixes, we are cursed to feel each other’s pain and emotions, it also hurts extremely when we bond. And when we part we might pass out from all the pain we will experience. It will feel like you are being merged together by hot lava and when you part with him, it feels like someone is ripping you apart from the inside out. But I would go through it for my Father a billion times if I had to.”

“Could it cause any serious damage ?”, Katrina asked.

“Yes. I could go deaf or blind for a few weeks. I could also get paralyzed for a few months or lose my memories for a little while. I could suddenly have the mind of a child again for weeks or even turn into one for a certain amount of time. There is a lot that could harm me, but I will face it. My Father should get away without a scratch. It is only dangerous for the living relative, not the dead one.”

“Oh my…”

“I will take it.”

With that they set up a little net trap and then waited, while M/n read the big heavy book in his lap, searching for the counter spell. He found it one hour before sunset and he rehearsed it over and over in his head.

Soon the sun was down and lightning was seen with thunder not far away. M/n stood in front of the trap and waited for the headless Horseman to come out with Daredevil. He wasn’t kept waiting for long and out they came, landing directly in their trap, which went off instantly. The Horseman fell from Daredevil in surprise and Daredevil whinnied loudly.

“Tut mir Leid ihr zwei, aber das musste sein. Jetzt halt still, Vater. (I’m sorry you two, but this had to be. Now hold still, Father.)“

He struggled to get out, but stopped when M/n loomed over him and just sat there. M/n cut his own wrist with the very dagger his Father gifted to him once and then let his blood fall on his Father’s open neck.

“With my blood on you, Father of mine, I herby have full control over you and you shall not fight me until I know you are yourself again in every sense of the word. Fight me and it will have consequences for both of us, hurt me and you will be hurt tenfold worse, disobey me and you will face punishment. I bind ourselves to each other through my blood.”, M/n said with his most serious tone he ever had against his own Father.

In the Horseman’s mind it translated to German and he really didn’t like where this was going. He didn’t understand all of what they said but now he really starts to understand what his own child is doing to himself.

M/n started to double over in pain suddenly and he hissed. The Horseman felt a familiar sensation and it hurt even worse than when he got stabbed into his right side the very day he lost his life. He burned all over, even hotter than Hell itself.

“M/n !”, Ichabod yelled worried.

“I-Argh ! I’m fine ! It’s normal !”, M/n replied quickly.

M/n started to feel a connection with his Father and he felt that he was just as much in pain as he was himself.

“S-streichel…Draufgänger. Lenk dich ab… (P-Pet…Daredevil. Distract yourself…)”, M/n told his Father.

He always petted Daredevil when he was in pain or when he felt that his own insanity will eat him up. Daredevil distracted him and calmed him down.

The Horseman did just that, stroking Daredevil, like he always did when he really needed a distraction. M/n smiled softly.

“Du wirst dich nie ändern. Draufgänger wird immer dein Felsen in der Brandung sein. (You will never change. Daredevil will always be your rock in the surf.)“, M/n chuckled out softly, then hissed again in slight pain.

“Is it getting weaker ?”, Katrina asked.

“Yes, but I can feel HER spell. I will fucking kill her when I see her face. This little whore…”, M/n growled out.

Soon everything calmed down and M/n stood up. Ichabod helped him lift the net and Daredevil and M/n’s Father were free. The headless Horseman stood up and then petted Daredevil, while he waited.

M/n came near him again and placed his right hand on the Horseman’s chest then stared at where his head should be, determined and slightly outraged.

“I, M/n Schaffner, the blood heir to Klaus Schaffner, hereby banish your weakening spell from my Father, Mary Van Tassel and any other spells you put him under. These spells shall scar your body tenfold worse than how my Father had suffered from them. Be gone BLACK WITCH !”

The Horseman felt a weight being lifted off of his shoulders and he relaxed.

“She has still control over him.”, young Masbeth said.

“Yes, but only because of his skull now. I can partly control him, in hopes I still know him best, to help him go around a few things.”

“So the plan is in action ?”, Ichabod asked.

“Yes.”

“Then you should tell him about it.”, Katrina said.

And with that they all sat down and M/n explained to his headless Father everything they planned in German. He told his Father to show a thumbs up for agreement and a thumb down for disagreement and if he didn’t understand anything he can touch M/n’s arm and he will elaborate.

He was pretty much okay with the whole plan and understood most of it. Just obey for now, don’t fight her and let his Son take the reins if it gets tricky. He hopes his plan will work, otherwise they are both doomed.

With that they all got into the act. After the deed was done for tonight they met at the Tree of the Dead, where the headless Horseman waited. They only had 30 minutes before sunrise.

“Any questions ?”, M/n asked.

“How do we get the skull if this plan fails ?”, young Masbeth asked.

“It won’t fail.”

“If you get hurt, what will happen to him ?”, Katrina asked.

“He will feel my pain but not be injured, he can only be injured too if he injures me.”

“The spells that were on your Father…”, Ichabod started.

“…Yes…?”

“Could they have controlled him even after he would have had his head back ?”

Silence…

“Yes. But not in the same way as you would imagine… He would drag her to Hell, but she would also have merged with the tree and killed it, while he still lived in it. She could have killed his hideout and made him walk in the sun until he found another dark hideout. And she could have controlled his every move. Just thinking of him, she could make him kill someone or come to her. That was the reason why I had to break her from him.”

They stared in utter horror at M/n.

“God, she even could have forced him to have THE THING with her. Which is disgusting enough…”

Ichabod and Katrina scrunched their faces up in disgust. The Horseman would have done the same if he had his head and face. How repulsing.

“NOW ! We should worry more about what other shit she can pull… I…will be present but I will warn ALL of you… I might not be safe tomorrow.”, M/n informed them.

“W-what do you mean ?”, Ichabod asked.

“I will charge myself the whole day today in the graveyard of Sleepy Hollow. I need a lot of energy against her and I drained myself immensely today by banishing her from him and making this bond. Charging over a whole day can actually lead to overcharging and with that you can slightly lose your mind. I will know who my target is, but I will act very reckless. Just be careful that you won’t touch me and watch the shadows.”

“How can you overcharge ?”, young Masbeth asked.

“I never charged a whole day, without breaks or letting some Magic loose, before. That will lead to me being overcharged because there are so many dead people and so much time to charge up. The more extra energy I get the more it gets to my head, but we will need it. I’m sure of it.”

“Okay.”, Katrina said.

“I might look different, but you shouldn’t be all too worried. Just no physical touch and don’t get too close to too dark, moving shadows.”

They all nodded, besides the Horseman he showed a thumb up instead. Then M/n went to hug his headless Father and then he vanished in the shadows, leaving them behind.

“I hope he knows what he is doing…”, Ichabod mumbled.

They said their goodbyes to the Horseman and then left, while he retreated to his tree.

M/n sat in the middle of the Graveyard and started to charge up. He refused to eat and drink, because that would only stop him from charging up.

Ichabod and the other two got prepared for tonight. Katrina all depressed and Masbeth and Ichabod already went to the old Mill, before Lady Van Tassel noticed anything.

And the Hessian was waiting for his call, prepared to act like his Son asked him to. Until then he just petted Daredevil and cared for him and maybe fell asleep from boredom.

The night started and they all played out their parts. Believing that the Witch actually died, the Horseman still under her control (seems like the curse didn’t set itself into motion for now) and so on and so forth. Right now the Hessian has fallen behind thanks to the carriage and he walked per foot.

The black witch just sat on her horse, holding the poor white witch by the hair. The Hessian winced for her, must hurt being pulled by your hair like that…

Then Hell broke loose. Quite literally. Shadows started to appear everywhere and they tackled Mary down from her horse and on the floor.

“Well, well, well~ Look who we have here~”

The trio and the Horseman looked up at the Tree of the Dead and there was a frightening person on top of it, commanding the shadows like second nature.

It wore a black mask with black, similar to the Horseman’s, armor and the face was glowing a deep red and it moved !

Then it all hit them.

This was M/n !

There were moving shadows everywhere and they all didn’t DARE to move. He slammed Mary into a random tree at his right and then threw her on the ground, making her gasp.

Another tendril grasped the bag that she had the Hessian’s skull in, but she fought with her own Magic. Fire shot out of her hand, that was blocked quickly by a shadow wall from M/n. He swung one of his tentacles towards her and hit her left side, making her fly to her right and crash into another tree.

“Scatter about. One of you must catch it ! Horseman you stay where you are !”

They all ran to a different spot, while the headless Hessian stayed where he was, just like M/n.

M/n summoned rain and let it pour down on the former Archer’s head, making her even more angry than before.

“Kill them already !”, she yelled at the Hessian.

He didn’t move an inch.

M/n laughed loudly and then swung a tendril at her right side, making her fly to her left and into another tree.

M/n scoffed.

“Pathetic.”

She pulled out her gun and gave three bullets into his direction, which he easily blocked off by another wall.

Mary’s Magic only could do so much. She never trained any arts, just spells and potions. This looked bad for her. Then she grabbed the back tightly and threatened to throw it onto the stone she stood, smashing the Horseman’s skull.

Everybody froze and she smirked as she had the upper hand. She pointed at the Horseman and commanded him again to kill them. He was about to move as tendrils wrapped themselves around him.

The next thing she didn’t see coming. M/n sneaked a tentacle behind her and it wrapped itself tightly around her, making her yelp and try to get out. Then she was slammed into the dirt three times and then released only to see a very pissed off shadow wolf.

“Hurt her.”, M/n said.

And the wolf out of shadows did. Scratching her and ripping here and there, until M/n snapped his fingers and the shadows left.

Then the former Archer had one last idea. She can control roots. She put her hands on the ground and started. M/n snarled and fought back. The Horseman saw and felt how insane M/n went, but he also felt how hurt he was from using so much magic.

He summoned black shadow flames that burned the roots to ashes, making the Black Witch hiss and let go of her control over the roots. Then the bag flew out of her hand and into Ichabod’s.

Ichabod took the skull out and threw it at the Hessian. He reached out, but a vine grabbed it and pulled it back. A black shadow tendril with spikes slapped the witch across the face, making her lose focus and he returned the skull to the Hessian. He quickly put it on and M/n trapped his Father into an enclosure of shadows so the Black Witch can’t reach him.

“NO !”, she yelled and tried to get in.

It took great effort for M/n to keep the closure up. He summoned another tendril that wrapped around her and threw her, head first, against another tree to her right. She was knocked out cold for now and M/n started to drop his Magic and with that his mask and everything else melted into shadows. All he kept up was the enclosure.

He teleported down the tree and coughed. The rest of his Necromancy, which wasn’t much anymore, already went to work on healing him as fast as possible.

“M/n ! Are you alright ?!”, Katrina asked.

“Y-yeah… Just hard to keep the barrier up and heal yourself and stay awake all at the same time.”, M/n answered.

He coughed again and fell to his knees.

“M/n !”, the three called worried and ran over quickly.

“You are bleeding !”, Ichabod yelled.

“I’ll be fine…”, M/n mumbled.

Then he dropped the enclosure and they all saw the Hessian with a head and a face. He looked at them but everything quickly fell from his mind as he saw M/n on the floor, bleeding terribly.

“M/N !”, he yelled worried sick and ran over, holding his boy close to his chest.

“Hey…Dad…”

“Was ist los ?! Was ist passiert ?! (What is going on ?! What happened ?!)”

“Nothing, just a little miscalculation… I’ll be fine. I’m already healing.”

He was too drained to talk in German to his Dad.

“Schau dich doch an ! Du siehst so aus als ob du fast tot bist ! (Look at yourself ! You look like you’re almost dead !)”

“I’ll be fine. Give me 10 minutes and I will be fine.”

And so they waited and indeed, M/n was fine after that. He sighed and stood up on shaky legs. M/n’s Father helped him to stand straight.

“I’m sleepy…”

“You can sleep later, now what of her ?”, Ichabod asked.

“Hell. To Hell with that whore…”, M/n sneered and then passed out.

He missed how his Father dragged her to Hell, how he gave her a bloody kiss, how he returned and brought him home and cared for him until he woke up.

Dexter awoke the next Morning and looked around, smelling something, he missed all too much. The best chicken in the whole world, from his Father. But…wasn’t he supposed to be going back to hell ?

No matter he ran down the stairs and caught his Father in his kitchen.

“Morgen. (Morning)”

“Hi.”

“I’m a free spirit now… We still need to undo your little spell to keep me in line.”

“That we shall do after we ate. We might pass out otherwise and burn the house down.”

The Hessian nodded.

“Ichabod und die anderen zwei haben vor nach New York zu gehen. Sie haben dir Briefe hinterlassen. (Ichabod and the other two are planning to move to New York. They left you letters.)”

“New York, eh ? And who will take care of Sleepy Hollow ? Or of your grave that something like this NEVER happens again ?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well I will write them just that then. The food ?”

“Fast fertig. (Almost done.)”

“Okay.”

After a few more minutes they ate and then undid the spell. They passed out. M/n on his Father’s chest and in his arms and the Hessian in a tight snuggle from his Son.

They will talk with these three nut heads later… Now they really need a nap.

Meanwhile the counter spell, M/n casted against Mary Archer, hit her in Hell tenfold worse, making her suffer for a long while.

END

#Sleepy Hollow 1999 #Movie #Fanfiction #Father x Son relationship #male!reader #Ichabod Crane #Katrina Van Tassel #Mary Van Tassel/Archer #Young Masbeth #Headless Horseman #Headless Hessian

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ravennawritesfanfiction · 2 years

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Remind Her

So these requests have been sitting, unanswered, for far too long. For that I apologize. Hopefully I do the original requests justice. I couldn't find the original requests, but one was Abraham Van Brunt comforting a reader who was either bullied or otherwise insecure and the other was Abraham and reader sharing a first kiss.

The requests came from @silkekruse and @crazygalore

A/N: I combined two requests. I was going to keep them separate, but they kinda meshed really well with the direction this story took. Hope you don’t mind.

Pairing: Abraham Van Brunt x Crane!Reader

Daughters were expensive. That was the first lesson you learned as a child. Your father made it obvious to everyone around that he would have rather you been a son. You could have carried on his family name or helped grow the family business. You, a daughter, could do neither of these things.

Then you had a brother, Ichabod. You were just as smart as he was, though no one seemed to notice. You could ride horses as well, if not better; again, no one noticed. He was taught skills to survive and thrive in the world. You learned how to sew and knit, cook and clean. Other lessons consisted of; it was better to be seen and not heard, be a lady, have manners. It was a dull existence.

When you thought no one had noticed you, you had failed to notice Ichabod’s dear friend Abraham. He regarded you curiously. He leaned in more when you spoke and didn’t interrupt you like the others. When he and Ichabod went for rides, you were invited to tag along. You had so many ideas that Abraham just knew that you would go places if only someone listened to you.

But you had been young and thought that you could be different, that you could change the world. Abraham thought you could, even after you stopped believing in yourself. But you were all becoming young adults. The world beat you down daily until you stopped joining conversations among the young gentlemen. You stopped going for rides. You joined your mother and the other young women in the corner with your sewing.

It broke Abraham’s heart. He watched the fire that had lit your eyes become a dying ember that burned out. He took his concerns to Ichabod, who didn’t see anything wrong with your demeanor, afterall, that was your place. He was relieved you had settled down and become a respectable young woman. It made Abraham sick. Sure he had been taught that that was a woman’s place just the same as everyone else, but it wasn’t your place. Why didn’t anyone else see that?

“I have a problem,” Abraham approached you as you were out on a stroll through town. It was a nice day and a walk had been deemed harmless enough. It was Abraham’s only chance to get you alone, in a respectable manner. Who could get mad at two acquaintances meeting on the street?

“Oh?” You couldn’t fathom why he would come to you and not your brother. It was all rather odd to you. “What kind of problem, Abraham?”

“The most awful sort, really. It’s a girl,” You’d be lying if you said that his words hadn’t wounded you slightly. You had fancied Abraham for years, but it was not your place to make such a thing known.

“I’m very sorry to hear that, but what could I possibly do to help you?” you stopped walking long enough to get a proper look at him. His eyes held tormented storms. “Abraham, this seems like more than just a girl problem,” you laid your hand on his arm. You took notice of a vacant park bench and led him over to have a seat.

“It really is a girl,” he huffed and looked down at his hands. “You see, she is special in every way, yet no one else sees it. Even she seems to have forgotten it.”

“I don’t see the problem, Abraham. The solution is simple. Tell her. Remind her every day if you must.” You looked up at the sky inhaling. “She’s a lucky girl to have caught your attention, she really is special.”

With those final words, you went to leave Abraham with his thoughts, but he had another idea.

“You are a genius. You are the best horseman I have ever met. Your ideas could change the world.” you turned around giving him a quizzical look, “And I WILL remind you every day, until you believe it.”

“I… Abraham?” your mind could not comprehend that fact that it had been you he was speaking of. Your heart swelled and then broke; so many feelings and you couldn’t process a single one. His only reply was to stand up and place his hands on each of your shoulders. With that he turned and walked back the way he had come.

The rest of your day passed in a haze and you eventually decided that you had not actually been listening to him, rather making up a conversation in your mind. Of course Abraham Van Brunt had not been telling you that you were special. That would be absurd.

The following day, you were taking tea in the garden with your mother when Abraham arrived for his fencing match with Ichabod. It was a weekly occurrence since they “needed to stay sharp”.

Your mother smiled at the young man. Abraham took your hand and kissed it. “You look absolutely breathtaking today, Miss Crane.” He bowed before heading off in search of your brother. Your mother gave you a knowing smile and took a not so subtle sip of her tea.

“Are we going to discuss young Mister Van Brunt’s sudden interest in you, Dear?” her eyes crinkled in the corners, she had always liked the boy.

“There isn’t anything to discuss, Mum. He was just being polite.” You took another sip of your tea, but adjusted in your seat to get a better view of the dueling men.

“Ah yes, I remember when your father was being ‘just polite’.” She chuckled to herself as she set her empty cup back on the tray.

“Mum!” heat grew in your cheeks as you too set the cup down and fled as gracefully as possible from the conversation.

“You know, it is quite the skill you have there, Miss Crane,” You had been in the library reading Romeo and Juliet, you hadn’t even heard him enter, nor had you realized he was still there.

“And what might that be, Mister Van Brunt?” you didn’t dare look from the page you were reading in fear of spiraling madly in love with the man.

“I have never seen anyone, save you, be able to so gracefully flee from tea in a garden. Nor have I seen someone look so beautiful while reading a tragedy.” the heat returned to your cheeks.

“And I have never seen anyone, save you, be able to fence and watch a fleeing girl behind them at the same time.” You set the book aside. “Are you staying for dinner then?”

“I am. Your mother invited me and Ichabod quickly agreed that company would be a nice change of pace.” He sat in a chair opposite you.

“What are you doing?” You gave him that same quizzical look from the day before.

“Whatever do you mean?” He kept a neutral face.

“You keep complimenting me. Why?” He smirked at that and relaxed further into his seat as you teetered on the edge of yours.

“It was your idea, remember? I told you that there was a girl, one who is very dear to me, who seems to have forgotten how brilliant she is. You told me to remind her every day if I have to.” Tiny tears threatened to spill from your eyes.

“Why am I so special, Abraham? I am just a girl, same as the rest. Yet you do not tell them they are special.” He moved from his chair to the same seat as you and put his arms around you so he could wiper in your ear.

“I do not tell them they are special because they are just girls. They do not have thoughts and ideas, they are content with sitting and sewing and cooking and cleaning. You, you long to ride through the woods, you have ideas to contribute to conversations,” he leaned in slightly closer still, “and I do not love them.” You turned to face him, your noses touching.

“You love me?” His reply was a nod and a gentle kiss on the lips. One with you returned in kind.

#abraham van brunt x reader #abraham van brunt #sleepy hollow #request #requests open #headless horseman #period piece

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silkekruse · 1 year

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Okay, so first of all, this is not, i repeat NOT a folow-up to my Abraham van Brunt x reader, i'm still figuring that part 2 out X"D BUT! Cause i don't want to leave ya'll empty handed...i have decided to make my personal fun X reader headcanons on having Abraham as a boyfriend/lover 👀👌😳😁 so i hope ya'll like those!

~Abraham van Brunt/Headless horseman as boyfriend headcanons!~ (No pun intended lol)

● He's definitly a gentleman, despite his reputation as the horseman of Death, always offering you his arm when walking with you, heck! You're cold? Here, his coat! Oh? You're getting dirty looks from some co-workers or others in general? They're on the "To-kill-" list now, oh boy-

● Loves to see you smile! Will do anything to see that lovely smile, and i mean ANYTHING!! Also loves your voice! If you're shy, don't worry, he totally gets you too :3

● Very clingy, being a undead being/Dullahan, he himself doesn't generate bodyheat, so what's his solution? Cuddles! Lots of cuddles! (He's a great "coolpad" if it's summer lol) definitly touch-starved, be prepared!

● tries to know all of your interests, even if he himself doesn't care that much for it, he's happy with them if you like it!

● very protective, will fistfight anyone if they even do as much as look at you wrong! Literally, this dude WILL fistfight god for you XD he's also quite a bit insecure about you perhaps leaving him, so reassurance is sometimes needed

● Petnames!! both fancy/cute and cheesy! His favorites are darling, love and sweetheart, he'd definitly call you his "personal heater" as a joke, perhaps as a tease "my mortal"

● Rides with him on Daredevil, yes! You get the awesome privilege to ride the horse of Death! As for Daredevil, he almost likes your company more than Abraham's XD

That's all for now! Hope ya'll like it, and please let me know what ya'll want for the part 2 of the X reader <3

Hope everyone has a awesome day/night and stay spooky everyone! ~Silkekruse

#headless horseman #monster boyfriend #headcanon #silkekruse #monster x reader

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maidenseekingmonsters · 2 years

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Dullahan monster romance coming soon.

If I manifest it through a moodboard, it will totally write itself faster, you know?

Image credits X-X-X

#monster x reader #reader insert #monster boyfriend #female reader insert #monster romance #exophilia #dullahan x reader #headless horseman #wip: let's not lose our heads #writeblr

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thingthatgoes-butch-inthenight · 6 months

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Monster smut is so disproportionately subby reader x dom monster. Where's the love for subby monsters? What if i wanna make an orc whine? What if i want the headless horseman to moan and shudder while i peg him and kiss around his neck stump? What if I pull a Jekyll and Hyde and become the monster so i can absolutely ruin someone with the outcome? Mix it up!

#monster fucker #monster lover #teratophillia #monster smut

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2kmps · 7 months

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IN A SLEEPY TOWN - CHAPTER ONE

headless horseman x reader | 5,249 words

story synopsis; “the horseman who rides atop his alabaster steed, cloaked in crimson without a head.”

in the sleepy town of Moorwick, you are drawn into the legend of the horseman when you learn it is associated with your father’s disappearance twenty years ago. when the local ghost story turns to be anything but that, and a bargain goes awry, you delve into moorwick’s dark history with hopes of saving more than just yourself.

chapter synopsis; you travel to the sleepy town of moorwick in search of your missing father. with little more than some luggage and your car, you're immediately steeped in the mysterious ways of the residents and of their local boogeyman— the headless horseman.

thank you for proofreading, @ceruleansol

for more chapters: masterlist

The town of Moorwick was in rapturous applause that day on October 27. With their claps hard and strong, it became impossible to distinguish between them and the drizzle pattering atop clusters of colorful coats lining the streets outside of the town hall. There, a number of officials of the town council found agitation that the ceremony should be held today in the rain rather than break decades-old tradition and host it in the thickness of morning fog tomorrow or next week.

In the four-day span of your stay in Moorwick as of current, you became well acquainted with the region’s autumnal weather, which seemed to entail invigorating, crisp air at night in companionship with the type of rainfall that managed to seep through your clothes, flesh, and left you cold to the marrow. During the day, there seemed to be no shortage of police at work with their shrill sirens and flipping lights to block off landslides on the main roads from overnight.

Three of those landslides had thwarted your passage into Moorwick for a solid three days, leaving you to the mercy of cruddy motels overcharging for beds with stains a tad too dark to be anything auspicious and water with the faintest tinge of yellow.

During checkout at the final detour of your trip, the man at the desk went on a tangent about the old days as a fisherman on the coastline right up until his eye was plucked out by a crab and had to retire. You managed sounds from your throat that quivered from your discomfort, attention floating from the adjacent hallways hoping to reel another patron in alongside you.

“By the way there, you ain’t heading towards Moorwick by any chance, are ya?”

When you turned forward again, the man was nearly bent all the way across the counter, elbows just nearly reaching the end of the desk. In his one eye that didn’t catch an unnatural sheen from the dim, orange light overhead, you thought you saw traces of lunacy in it, the stare of a man with the anxiety and burden of stories to share.

You honestly didn’t want to know.

“Yeah,” you offered with a withering voice. “Going there for family stuff and whatnot. The town has a website. It looks nice enough. But they always do, right?”

The man shrunk back from the counter to his own side, digging his heels back down onto the floor. He regarded you with such a pitying look and a frown that it spurred a rush of shame to creep up your neck and across your face. “I see. Well, best do ya business and leave. Take my word for it when I say don’t go below the surface. Sometimes, taking things as they appear is better.”

He pulled a receipt from the register under his desk, fumbled with it in his knobby hands and bulbous knuckles to smooth out the wrinkles before handing it over to you. There for a moment, the slip of white paper hovered aloft in the man’s hand, unable to find yourself willing to reach for it.

Quick to take your reluctance in stride, he gave a hearty laugh that broke into hoarse cracks of coughs that he smothered behind a fist. “I only say—I only say that because ya giving me the feel of one of those folks who just doesn’t let things be.”

You slipped the receipt from his fingers quickly, crushing it into a wad against your palm with a taut smile pressing lines into your face. “Won’t say you’re wrong. Take care.”

His words stayed with you for days afterward, staved only by the static of the radio as your only friend on the stretch of road alongside the forest. The trees had tantalized you into a lull, unassuming, yet you often found your eyes veering from the road toward them as though noticing a stare from across the room. It was a sensation that ensnared you all the same even after your arrival in Moorwick.

The day of the ceremony at present wasn’t an exception to this. By that point, the rain had tapered into a fine mist that dampened your skin as you shucked the hood from your raincoat behind your head, face pointed purposefully ahead.

Standing front and center now on the lowest steps of polished, slick stone was the mayor of Moorwick, a man barely a decade older than your own, though even that was a generous assumption. As he reached toward his face, a single finger erect to move aside a piece of dark hair that had fallen out of place, a silver medal hanging by a thick ribbon of deep blue rattled in his hand. The other held a simple plaque inscribed with gold in the black facing.

He surveyed the crowd slowly, undoubtedly recognizing all of the faces present there in the crowd until you felt his gaze settle on you. It had to be that you were still paranoid from the car ride there, you thought; the mayor and yourself had never once crossed paths, not once. You were certain of that.

And yet, you were familiar with the chill that gripped you when you were being watched, observed. It was different this time around; it wasn’t some intangible entity that haunted the foot of your bed at night, but rather a man of flesh and bone with a stare that seared into you. Your heart plunged into your stomach, forcing your legs to shuffle around in place, feeling the men on either side jostle you with their elbows as they clapped along with the rest.

Just as you thought to yank the hood up to conceal yourself, his head snapped to the side while a smile fit for a dashing gentleman carved into his lips, teeth a glistening white. He took several paces to the side, arm extended to mold against an elderly woman’s back as she ambled out from the crowd, holding a hand against her hip as she went.

“Hard to believe it’s been twenty-three years since we began doing this, right?” he spoke mirthfully, his voice humming from a pair of speakers located on adjacent sides of the sprawling crowd. “Once again, for the twenty-third year in a row, I would like to present this, uh, award to Moorwick’s very own Asta Lang! One hundred forty-five, can you believe it?”

The commotion grew louder by the second; the buoyant shouts and cheers, whistles and clapping had begun to warp together into a single cacophony of noise so grating it struck you between the eyes. Although the clouds held their dismal tone, expanded over the town like an ominous specter, and the ruckus was head-splitting, you willed your feet to stay anchored to the front row.

You clapped along with everyone as Asta, a rather short and frail-seeming woman with gray hair situated in intricate braids, bowed her neck toward the mayor to accept the medal and plaque. Once adjusting the ribbon at her neck, he cuffed an arm around her again and ducked his head near her ear.

Asta found you then, undoubtedly with the help of the mayor, and her thin lips pulled high close to her wrinkled cheeks dabbed in roughly blended fuschia. She turned her hand toward you, waving far more vigorously than she had for anyone else, keeping her smile long enough to tempt one of your own.

“Asta Lang, everyone! Asta Lang! Give her a good round of applause.” His words won him that response, rousing yet another wave of cheer through streets that quickly ebbed like a tide receding from shore when he shook a hand above his head. “So, just a reminder, good folk! The parade is only four days away! Four! Make sure to submit your booth tickets and finalize paperwork with the town council. We want this year’s parade to be the best yet! Don’t forget the contest in unmasking this year’s Headless Horseman. Who will it be?”

You were relieved to find your opportunity to shoulder your way through the sea of bright raincoats to the opposite end where you had seen Asta depart just moments ago. The mayor had such an air about him that it was hard not to find yourself captivated by what he had to say, yet strangely, all he had to say was nothing of consequence to miss.

Either way, you seized your escape and trotted across the grass, sinking underfoot with a trail nipping at your heels whilst shoe prints gushed with brown rainwater. You found Asta some ways off from town hall at that point, heading toward the main road with her husband in tow and the shiny new medal still hanging low against her chest.

“One hundred forty-five. Even I can’t believe it. I’ll fix all of that moaning and groaning from those youngsters wanting my spot by downing a whole bottle of prosecco and cheese.” Asta gave a huff as you eased yourself into a slower stride alongside them. “But look here. Isn’t it beautiful? It will look wonderful on the mantle, won’t it, Winston?”

She pinched the thick silver coin between her fingers near his face, an older man himself of 120 with the looks of one barely challenging his seventies. He adjusted the rim of his tweed hat with a crooked finger, nudging at his wrinkled brow with a thumb as he leaned in to get a better look at the medal.

“Quite nice it is, ah, but,” he stuttered, flicking the medal a few times. “Will it fetch a nice price, I wonder?”

Asta swatted his hand away hastily, tucking the medal under the protective layers of her coat, offering her husband a final admonitory glance before finally turning toward you. Four days into knowing this woman did not lessen your astonishment that she was truly 145; the wrinkles in her face did not align with your imagery of a human to have reached that age. You complimented her upon your first meeting, saying she couldn’t have been older than eighty. She seemed moved to tears.

“This fool doesn’t know anything. Just ignore him.” Asta gestured with her head toward him, receiving a dismissive wave in return. “Oh, yes, dear, won’t you join us for dinner? Before we left for the ceremony, I put in just the loveliest roast. Winston and I haven’t had guests over in a long time. It would be nice to have that company again, won’t it?”

Winston gave an affirmative grumble, reaching toward his neck to stroke the loose skin hanging low. “I would say so. Could give us a good excuse to pull out the red wine from the cellar. It’s a fantastic age now.”

“Oh, Winny.” Asta sidled closer to him, fussing with the hat on his head. “You know what the doctor said. Don’t you dare. I may do my morning walks, but I don’t have the energy to haul your ass to the cemetery.”

Their exchange was an oddly endearing thing, urging you to smother a laugh in your throat that radiated out into your voice. “Are you sure you wouldn’t mind the company? I haven’t had roast since I was a kid.”

Asta shuffled closer to you again, carefully winding her arms around one of yours, holding onto you in a manner you felt was almost protective. “Yes, yes, my dear. We’d love that. I’d rather you spent time with us rather than… sitting in that empty old house.”

“Been empty for twenty-some years now, hasn’t it, Asta?” Winston said, ruminating on this as he curled his fingers inward to rotate the gold wedding band clearly too small for the swelling in his hands. “Hard to believe it’s been over that already. When you get to a certain age, you just stop counting. You become a little less pressed on time you’ve lost and focus more on what you can still be doing.”

“Mmm, that is true. Getting old has its perks.” Asta jutted her lips, dark eyes flicked heavenwards in momentary thought, tightening her arms against yours more. “That aside, I would also like to talk to you about, well, your father as well. That’s why you’re even here in Moorwick to begin with.”

The mention of him jerked your head toward her sharply, curiosity piqued. Meanwhile, the thick letter resting in the knapsack on your back felt a great deal heavier than it did before. It’s unlikely you would have ever found your way to Moorwick had it not been for the letter, being that it was a town days from any significant metropolitan area. It wasn’t exactly the most accessible location.

You dug your heels into the soggy ground, pulling Asta to a sudden halt that teetered her a bit too much. “Asta, what can you tell me about—”

“Oh, good, good! I didn’t miss you all just yet!” called the voice of the mayor from a distance. He approached with careful strides through the grass, hiking his pants above his ankles so as to not sully them with rainwater or mud. He had yet to come to a full stop before he had his hand extended toward your waist, straight and rigid, and clad in black wool.

You took a step away, disarmed by just about everything about him. From a distance, he was rather attractive, but up close, he was unarguably handsome with eyes that you likened to amber and a warm complexion. His hair was far more disheveled than it had been previously, making you ponder on whether his townsfolk turned into an angry mob, or he ran all the way here.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He clicked his tongue, flinching as though to reprimand himself. “Colson Sinclair, Mayor of Moorwick. It’s always a pleasure to see new faces.”

Edging a smile to your lips, you took his hand and gave a strong shake, a slight nod, and offered your name to him as well. “Nice to meet you as well, Mayor Colson.”

“Just Colson is fine. No need for the formalities.” He flashed you a radiant smile, dwelling on the handshake for a moment longer before slowly releasing your hand. “I heard you’ve moved into your old man’s house. About time someone occupied it. It’s just been sitting empty all this time. Your father, though, I’m so sorry to have been the one to—to, well, break you that news.”

You stared him in the face, matching the intensity of his own stare. “Do you know much about my dad, Mayor Colson? I’m trying to learn everything I can. Come to terms with it, y’know?”

Colson made a noise under his breath, tilting his head against a bent finger scratching his cheek. “He and I were colleagues for a while, worked as a notary in town hall for a handful of years. Actually, he may have been there before I even became mayor. It’s been twenty years. Stuff gets fuzzy.”

Your eyebrows jumped up, yet you were careful with your words. They spun in your mind and danced like fire on the tip of your tongue. Nothing he said made sense. Perhaps it amounted to nothing more than the stress of his responsibilities, though.

The silence that permeated the air was disrupted by Asta as she gave a noisy sigh that hissed through her teeth. “Children, if you will, my feet are wet, and I am cold. I would like to go home and enjoy my roast. Colson, you come along as well. There’s enough for everyone.”

Colson patted a hand against his chest. His laughter was airy and smooth. “Always looking out for me, Asta. I’ll have to take a rain check on that, I’m sorry. Don’t make that face. Another time.”

With that left said, Colson was quick to toe his way across the drenched ground to the sidewalk, smoothing out his pants and giving a swipe across his peacoat and hands. He left for an unfamiliar part of town to you, toward the harbor if you had any recollection of the layout.

Tall sheets of fog waited ahead for him there, yet just as in his greeting to you earlier, he was dauntless and ventured toward it without so much as a falter in his step.

“Really strange guy.” you said, passing a furtive look toward the older couple.

Asta flicked her fingers with a scoff. “He isn’t a half-bad kid when you get to know him.”

“He’s a punk who’s never worked a day in his life,” was what Winston had to say, removing himself from Asta’s side to mosey on the path toward home. “I’d like to get home before dark, if you don’t mind.”

By the time you reached their home, the slithers of light through the bloated clouds had all but been swallowed by the curtain of nightfall. You thought that the night in Moorwick was darker than in the city, darker than anywhere you had ever been for that matter. There was a stillness in the air accompanied by a silence that felt loud in your ears.

It came to a great relief to you once you were settled at their dining room table, a quaint little round table fixed with a beige tablecloth that glistened beneath the light with accents of lace. With a single look around, you knew their home was a treasure trove of precious memories collected over nearly a century. A number of trophies and medals were lined meticulously along shelving on the walls, undoubtedly untouched for decades and a delightful home to some crawlies.

“In my youth, I was an athlete,” Asta explained at your side with her carving knife and tongs as she pulled apart the succulent roast from the bone and nestled a good portion onto your plate. The warmth of the morsel wafted around your head and in your nose; it was a comforting embrace from the bite of the autumn night and your unease. “I once tried out for the Olympics, you know.”

You rested your hands atop your thighs, drumming your fingers there to sate your impatience. “Oh, really? What for?”

She continued to gingerly load your plate with sauteed vegetables and the stewed potatoes and carrots that had marinated in the roast broth all day, reminiscing meanwhile on the better part of her life spent as a gymnast. Losing her chance at the Olympics did something to her, she told you, still harboring some weight of dismay in her tired voice.

“You’ve always done your best, Asta.” Winston flicked out a handkerchief to lay it flat across his thighs. “Ever since I’ve known you, you’ve never done less than that.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s true.” she replied, wiping her hands clean before taking her seat at the table.

Dinner passed pleasantly with Asta and Winston as they recalled times during their youth, particularly of their adventures getting hitched and gallivanting from country to country for a time, typically stowing away on boats to get to where they were headed. Their retelling of those stories meant something to them. You noticed it in the way their faces were aglow, their smiles just a little wider, and the softness that touched their eyes when they gazed at one another.

For a time, it was enough to deter your thoughts from the inevitable until it wasn’t. The tip of your fork lightly skimmed across the embossed veins throughout the plate in front of you, emitting a shrill scratch on occasion.

It was enough of an indication that the time had come. Winston was the one to collect the dishware and take it from the table while Asta led you toward the front of the house into the sitting room. There, the ceiling seemed to move away from you, and the room expanded wider at all sides. It was filled with the very same kind of novelties that gave the rest of their home its charm, and a pair of armchairs far too exquisite for you to sit in, but where Asta led you anyway.

“Take a seat, take a seat.” She gestured to your chair, chest rising and falling sharply with a sigh. “There is a lot for us to talk about. Some of it is better to sit to hear.”

The purple seat groaned beneath your weight when you dropped into it unceremoniously, knapsack pulled in front of you like a child’s toy while you rummaged it for a moment. Your fingers skimmed across a textured envelope, sturdier and far thicker in design than anything you had received before.

Asta’s jaw tightened at the sight of it, her chin tilting higher while her thumbs danced across each other atop a crossed knee. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen that. I’m glad it ended up in your hands.”

You nodded your agreement, dropping the stout envelope on the glass table positioned between your chairs. “I wouldn’t have found out anything otherwise. I’m still confused that I had to find out everything through a couple of letters instead of a phone call.”

“Would you have believed a phone call?” she challenged. “After all, we spoke a few times before you found your way here. I stay true to what I said before. I won’t guarantee the information I have on your father is what you want to hear.”

With a thin smile, you shifted to the edge of your seat and twisted your fingers together between your legs. “Asta, I packed two suitcases and barely gave my job notice that I’d be gone. I drove across the country for nearly a week, got caught up in three landslides, and now I’m here in an empty house that used to belong to my dad. I’ll be fine.”

“Yes.” She choked a laugh, a grin. “Yes, I think you will be as well.”

Just as Asta’s laughter settled into jumps in her chest, Winston shuffled into the room with a silver tray nestling an ornate teapot with a tall spout and a pair of cups similarly crafted. His hands trembled with the weight of the teapot, nearly missing the cups as he poured. “It’s a special blend, my own special blend at that. Never met a person who disliked it. Don’t be the first.”

You took the saucer and cup from him as he handed it to you shakily. “I wouldn’t imagine it.”

“Good, good,” he chimed, dropping a cube of sugar and then two more into the other cup, likewise offering it to his wife afterward. “Three cubes of sugar, tablespoon of honey. Just the way you like it.”

Asta craned her neck back to plant a kiss on his cheek, sending him off from the room then so you were alone with her. The first sip she took, she swallowed and blew out a breath; the second sip loosened her shoulders and molded her into the chair.

“As you know from the letter, your father is legally acknowledged as having passed. As you are the next of kin—his only kin—his belongings and property are now yours, should you choose to have them.” Asta began, lowering her cup to the table below. “It’s all a very complicated situation. My, how to begin…”

You didn’t drink from your tea but rather moved it to the table similarly. “He wasn’t present for most of my life. He upped and just disappeared one day. No explanation. No phone calls. No birthday cards, Christmas gifts. And then twenty-something years later, I get a letter with an official seal saying he’s passed, but you wrote me one, too.”

“Yes, yes, I did,” Asta replied, collectedly. “I asked Colson to have my letter included to you as well. Colson wrote to you all of the legal information, but I wasn’t satisfied with that. I wanted you to have a better understanding of the circumstances.”

Your eyes dropped towards the letter atop the glass table, recalling the pain that gripped your heart like a vise and opened a void in your gut. “Colson says dad is dead. You say he disappeared.”

“He disappeared twenty years ago on a rainy day in November. I remember it well.” Asta bobbed her head slowly, much like in a motion of a mechanical doll. “I will admit, no one truly knows anything about the circumstances around his disappearance. There was nothing left behind, there was never a culprit, nothing to collect. Only a fascination.”

She was egging on your curiosity, coaxing you to want to delve deeper into it. Whether it was by the uncertainties already surrounding this situation or the innate sensation to recoil—trepidation of an unalterable outcome—you hesitated to push the words from your lips.

“Fascination… of what kind, exactly?”

“Of a kind that I wonder whether you’ll be able to understand.” Asta eased closer to the end of her seat, reaching for the spoon in her teacup to swirl the black drink inside. “Moorwick has been my home for a very long time, and with my age, I have learned that the world is far more complicated than we give it credit for. Your father disappeared somewhere on the outskirts of the forest.”

You stared at her. “Was it searched?”

“The forest? Oh, dear, the Atticus Forest takes weeks to thoroughly search, and even then, it would be easy to miss something. For a time, it was, by daylight at any rate.” She continued, “You see, your father was fascinated by the forest and what may be hidden there.”

The way she spun her story to you sent your mind down a path you weren’t sure you wanted to hear. There in the sanctuary of her beautiful sitting room, you felt the cold grip of something at the back of your neck, bristling the hairs there and bumps high across your arms. Although the room bathed in a soft light, leaving no shadow to the vividity of the mind, you still sat there exposed to this room and town with a large chip in your armor.

With some dubiety to her, and the thoughts that swarmed in your head, you spoke at last without knowing what would tumble out in the tones of your voice, “So, you’re basically telling me that a ghost took him.”

There was something in the way that Asta withered back into her chair, taking glimpses from the corner of her eye as though looking for someone else there. You tightened your arms around the bag against your chest, occupying your fingers with the slim beads hanging from one of the pocket tassels. “What? Is there something else I should know, too? Just throw it out there to me, might as well at this point.”

Asta smacked her lips together and drew her hands together firmly. “As I’ve—as I’ve said, there are things that I wonder if you’ll be able to understand. Your father was no fool to what dwells in that forest. I believe he actually went deep into the heart of it with an intention, and he was noticed.”

“Noticed?” you urged her on. “Noticed by what? A hunter? A ghost? What?”

“The Headless Horseman, my dear.” Asta swallowed an exasperated laugh at bewilderment on your face, having expected that much of a reaction from you. “Moorwick, this wonderful town I love, has a very dark history and an even darker legend. The Headless Horseman who rides atop his alabaster steed, cloaked in crimson without a head.”

She spoke the latter like a nursery rhyme, trailing the tip of her tongue across her lower lip. “He is said to be the warden of the forest, though in life he was a ruthless man—a disgraced prince turned mercenary who lost his life twice. Twice.”

You weren’t sure how to interject to this ludicrous story; this old woman was actually trying to tell you that your father had been stolen by a headless horseman in the woods. For you to deplete so much of your time and funds just to hear this—what the hell were you even doing in this town?

Chasing ghosts now, apparently.

Asta didn’t balk at your disbelief. Rather, she pushed forward with her story. “The first time the horseman lost his life, he was felled and rose again to slaughter the town of Moorwick. The second time, he was decapitated by a sword and buried in a deep grave without his head. And again, he rose from the dead and has waited in the Atticus Forest ever since.”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” Finally, the thoughts in your head aligned with your words. “My dad is dead—dead at worst, missing at best, and you’re telling me a ghost story! A ghost story! Asta, what the hell?!”

She remained seated in her lush chair, unperturbed, posture impeccable yet stiff as you sprung up from your own and circled the room, tousling your hair with a hand to quell your nerves—better yet, to keep from agitating a fight with Winston should he overhear the ruckus.

“I told you that what I had to say may not be what you wanted to hear.” she reminded with an edge that stung you with the realization you had an outburst as a guest in someone’s home, and it flooded your face with hot shame. “Please sit down, and drink some tea.”

You didn’t for a long while. Instead, you dug a path in the high pile of her carpet, never once straying from the sitting room. When your nerves settled enough to speak without a bite of snark, you returned to your chair with a hard flop. “Okay. So, the Headless Horseman took my dad. Where would he have been taken?”

Asta blinked once, twice, opening her mouth to cracks and croaks snagging in her throat. She hadn’t anticipated for you to entertain the idea that there was something to what she said. “I—well, yes, he—I suppose he would have been taken into the heart of the forest to the Horseman’s grave. At least, that’s what the legend has us believe.”

You juggled her response with a subtle nodding of your head. Clearly, this woman was out of her mind, but it was the only lead you had to go on at this point. Searching a forest was unquestionably stupid, especially without a map or understanding the layout of the land, but yet there lingered a halo of light, a flicker of hope that somewhere in her contrived story, some truth rang to it.

“Moorwick has a library, right?” you asked.

She turned her head with a sidelong stare. “Yes. Three branches. The main branch is near town hall.”

Again, the room was plunged into silence while you considered your options from this point forward. You could easily pack your belongings from your father’s home, take everything you saw and hightail it straight out of this shitstain of a town. You could go back to work at the beginning of next week, block Asta’s phone number, and be done with this entire mess.

"Will I assume you’ll be at the library for sometime tomorrow, then?” Asta piped up, leaning forward with a far too curious glimmer in her sunken eyes.

You would have to leave your things as they were in your father’s home for a while. Hopefully, they didn’t gather dust with how much still lay there undisturbed in gray blankets.

“Yeah, I’ll be there most of the day.”

You wanted answers, and you weren’t going to leave without them.

divider @/anlian-aishang

repost from my deleted blog officiallytheduchess/cardeneiv

if you enjoyed reading, please reblog!

#headless horseman x y/n #headless horseman x you #headless horseman x reader #headless horseman #dullahan x y/n #dullahan x you #dullahan x reader #dullahan #.02 #monster fiction #monster fic #monster x human #monster fucker #monster story #2k writes #original fiction #original story #original writing

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bettyfrommars · 9 months

Text

Welcome to The Nightmare Factory

an Eddie Munson x Reader collection of stories

Eddie got certified to work a position at the Nightmare Factory for their benefits package, and he figured it would be the easiest gig he ever landed. But his first job as a Sleep Paralysis Demon does not go as planned, and he develops a crush on Reader that he can't seem to shake. He wants to ask you out---or something normal like that---but he can only communicate with you through your Nightmares.

18+ONLY

Sleep Paralysis Demon Eddie

Haunted Clown Doll Eddie

Haunted Clown Eddie art

Poltergeist Eddie

Nightmare Guide Eddie

Nightmare Factory: Origins

Headless Horseman Eddie

Work Party

The Fabric of Moonbeams

Blurb

Nightmare Steve

#The Nightmare Factory #nightmareFactory!Eddie #Eddie Munson fic #Eddie Munson series #stranger things fic #Eddie Munson fluff #spooky season

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sanguineterrain · 9 months

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dc masterlist

ONE-SHOTS.

✩ window pains. ─ jason todd x gn!reader

he's got a habit of coming in through the window. you want him to start staying... and using the door. (angst, fluff, pining, injured jason, tending to wounds, feelings).

✩ sunset anew. ─ dick grayson x fem!reader

you're a little nervous to become the mrs. grayson. luckily, your husband-to-be knows just what to say to soothe your worries. (wedding, fluff, anxious reader, insecure dick, so much soft intimacy)

✩ the teeth you know. ─ vampire king!dick grayson x fem!reader

the war between the humans and the vampires has lasted for a year now. when you fled gotham, you thought that would be the last time you'd see the vampire king and the love of your life, dick grayson. you were wrong. (SMUT 18+ only, manipulative dick, dreams, oral f receiving)

✩ savior. ─ jason todd x gn!reader

red hood is the stuff of nightmares. red hood is no hero. red hood is your best friend. (angst, reader is afraid of red hood and they discover that he's jason, injured and kidnapped reader, emotional hurt no comfort.)

✩ in your hands. ─ jason todd x gn!reader

jason thinks he's too big to be loved. you show him that that's impossible. (bathing together, sad jason, brief dissociation, i hc jason to have body dysmorphia and i wanted to explore that, non sexual nudity, washing your partner, bruce angst, hopeful ending.)

✩ restroom attendant. ─ jason todd x fem!reader

tonight is the worst night ever--you just got dumped on your birthday, and all you want to do is cry in the restaurant bathroom in peace. that is, until, the red hood bursts in. this city just won't cut you a break. (humor, flirting, meet ugly, awkward cute jason, canon typical violence)

BLURBS.

ALL READERS ARE GN UNLESS NOTED OTHERWISE

-> DICK GRAYSON.

"this is real. i'm real. look at me."

"can you walk? i need you to walk."

dick catches you when you trip and fall

"you matter so much to me."

you meet the yj team for the first time and have a panic attack

dick cuddles you after he returns late from patrol

you try to break up with dick when your insecurities overwhelm you

dick and assistant!reader who has a secret nightlife

-> JASON TODD.

"i thought you were scared of heights."

reader calls jason in panic when they are chased by a goon

"you're just going to leave me here?!"

awkward jason with a big crush on baker!reader

you break up with jason after he almost dies | part 2 (completed)

playfighting with jason turns into something else (NSFW, fem!reader)

jason rescues you after you have a fight (fem!reader)

jason asks his family to help after you, his fiance, are kidnapped

you forget to text jason you're home safe and he panics

you comfort werewolf!jason during a shift

you are jason's ex and have to work with him on a mission

headless horseman!jason gives you a ride home

"why not them, why me?"

you find a werewolf in your shed who has a dead boy's face

you and jason fight and he thinks you broke up

devoted jason who just wants to be yours

jason tells you that he's asexual

you give bodyguard!jason a gift

you're a vigilante who's after the red hood | pt 2 |

fussing over jason after he's shot in his bulletproof vest

boxer!jason protects you from a creep

you're a reporter who's under red hood's protection | part 2

-> CLARK KENT.

holding hands while walking with clark

giving clark a massage when he's stressed

clark is scared when he finds out he's going to be a dad

you politely reject superman (you're dating clark kent!)

-> BRUCE WAYNE.

the JL discovers that batman is married... to you

#dc fanfiction #jason todd x reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #nightwing x y/n #nightwing x you #red hood x reader #red hood x you #jason todd x you #batman fanfiction #jason todd imagine #masterlist

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steelcladbutterfly · 2 years

Text

Yandere Headless Horseman: Haunted

This comes from my latest Halloween works. It’s my getting back into the groove stuff basically. I’ll probably post the other nine sometime during the next few days if I have time.

Prompts: Haunted, Forest

The headless horseman is a mythical figure that has been seen in folklore since the Middle Ages. Popular examples include the dullahan from Ireland, the Green Knight from Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, and the headless horseman from the Legend of Sleepy Hollow, which will be the one this story is based on. The dullahan and the Green Knight both carry their heads around, though the knight is able to attach his back to his neck. The headless horseman is most commonly seen carrying a flaming jack o lantern in place of his actual head, the original story heavily implies it is someone disguised as the myth, while other adaptations make it more likely that it is a ghost rather than an actual human in disguise.

To be honest, this is inspired by the horror movie Smile a little bit. MINOR SPOILERS FOR SMILE The idea that whoever sees the victim die is the next victim is an interesting idea.

A Tv playing reruns of Whose Line Is It Anyway? suddenly began a breaking news story. The mostly quiet room turned even quieter as everyone focused their attention to the reporter now on screen.

“We are sorry to interrupt your broadcast, but a truly horrible incident occurred just this morning, and for public safety we have elected to inform the general public as quickly as possible.”

They shuffled their papers slightly, looking queasy and scared as they began.

“Amanda Halls, the leader of the town council, has been found dead in her home. We will not show pictures at the moment as it is graphic and brutal, but she was found headless. Her head nearby had been split into pieces by a tremendous force. This first came to attention when Cassidy Rath received a frantic phone call from Amanda. We have received permission to play it back from Mrs. Rath, so we will take a moment to describe what happened before it is played to you. At approximately 6:08 am, Mrs. Rath picked up the phone to hear Ms. Halls begging for help as she reportedly ran through the halls of her home being chased by what she described as a demonic horse with a headless rider taunting her from a flaming pumpkin. Mrs. Rath stated she could hear it all and seemed to begin running out of her house still on call, begging Ms. Halls to stay on the line and keep running. She first called to her husband to phone for help to Ms. Halls’s abode. At this point, crashing sounds could be heard and both woman exclaimed at the sound of what Mrs. Rath asserts is the sound of a horse whinnying. The call ends on Ms. Halls side with a scream and what sounds like something being slashed at before the call drops. Her phone was found beside her body in pieces. We will now play the audio for those of you still listening in.”

What followed was more or less note for note what the reporter described, however the sounds of a horse or someone other than the two woman is noticeably absent. Only the sounds of items being shattered and broken enters into audible range. After it ends, the reporter appears once more to finish the broadcast.

“Mrs. Rath is absolutely certain she heard the same noises Ms. Halls had before her death, but the phone call has no such audio to anyone but her. Authorities are uncertain on the true cause, but what is known for certain is that Amanda Halls is dead. More information will hopefully be uncovered soon. Until then, make sure to stay safe.”

The broadcast ended and the reruns continued before it was shut off as well, leaving the horrified faces of those in the small bookstore to be reflected back, distorted and darkened upon the silent screen.

~~~~~

Your hand shook as you placed the remote down. You stayed still, trying to get your breathing under control as the customers and book club filtered out, looking worried and scared as they did so. Soon, your store was almost empty, leaving only you and Dorthy, the woman who ran the town book club that took place in your store. You jumped as she gently laid her hand over yours.

“Oh, (Y/n), you should head home soon too and check on, what’s his name, Dakota? Make sure he’s fine and let him know you are too. I’m sure he’d appreciate that.”

You squeezed your eyes shut for a few moments before trying a shaky smile as you slid out from behind the counter, following Dorthy out the door and locking the door. You would worry about any mess or anything tomorrow.

“Yeah, I should probably check in with him. Knowing Dakota, I’m sure they’re worried out of their mind. In fact, I’ll probably get a call from him soon.”

As if on cue, your phone rang, displaying Dakota’s name. You smiled weakly at Dorthy as you trotted off to answer them, hearing only the last thing she shouted after you before you turned the corner.

“Tell him that I said hello! I’m sure he’ll remember me!”

You chuckled under your breath, waving a hand her way absently as you finally answered the phone.

“Hey Dakota. I’m heading home now. I saw the broadcast and, well, it didn’t feel right to continue with no customers since everyone left almost immediately after.”

His sigh rang through the line, slightly tinny and exasperated as they no doubt messed up the hairstyle they had put together that morning.

“I don’t doubt it. I’m actually at the scene right now, otherwise I would have come to pick you up. Make sure to go straight home! And lock all the doors and windows! I know we’re on the second floor, but I don’t want you taking any chances. I don’t know what I would do with myself if you got hurt.”

You smiled slightly. Dakota always worried over you, made only worse by his job and constantly seeing the darker side of humanity. The apartment came into view and you quickly typed in the code and headed into the lobby.

“Yeah, I know. I’m just gonna check the mail real quick then I’ll head upstairs. Love you!”

You hung up before he could protest and tried to put the broadcast out of your mind as you collected the mail and headed up the stairs. Hopefully, this would be the end of the incident and life could continue on after they caught whoever was doing all this. With that hope in mind, you aimed to continue life as normal until this was all over.

~~~~~

Dakota returned late at night, face dark and concerned. You hurried over, unsure what to do to cheer them up as they collapsed onto the sofa. Before you could do anything however, he finally spoke in a hushed tone.

“I’m sure this will be on the news soon, but Cassidy Rath was found dead in the same way as Amanda Halls. This time, it was in a supermarket. One minute she was fine, the next she’s screaming and running as shelves fall over, the next she’s fallen herself and her head has wound up crushed before anyone could do a thing.”

You flinched, not expecting something like this to emerge. As you locked eyes with Dakota, it seemed clear to both of you something was going on that may not be able to be stopped.

“…Was there anyone who saw or heard something different?”

Dakota winced at your hesitant question, staring towards the ground for a moment.

“Yes. Dorthy Langland, the book club leader, the one that goes to your bookstore for meetings. She said there was a man on a horse chasing Cassidy through the aisles. Apparently he didn’t have a head and seemed to be covered in fire.”

He chuckled darkly at that, shaking his head and closing his eyes as his shoulders slumped. They were obviously exhausted and if the first two deaths were in anyway reliable as tells, it was only going to get worse from here.

“I tried to have her called into protective custody, or at least have a detail on her, but apparently there is not enough precedent to do so. Honestly, I think the rest of them just have a sick want to see what’ll happen next, the bastards.”

Dakota’s teeth began to grind and his back tensed in anger. You laid a hand across his back and he slowly relaxed. You tugged them up and towards the bedroom.

“Look, if you can’t right now, try again tomorrow, first thing. For now, it seems like there’s nothing you can do, so let’s just try to get some rest, alright?”

They sighed and squeezed your hands gently before nodding and allowing you to pull them along. Two deaths in less than a day and Dakota was already stressed. The only hope you held onto was that Dorthy would be able to survive without troubles, not realizing it was already too late.

~~~~~

Across town, screams rang out as Dorthy was lifted into the air, before something separated her head from the rest of her body. She had called the book club to meet in the park since they had forgotten to pick up the new book for the week from her earlier in the day. Most were reluctant, but still showed up, only to have it interrupted when something spooked Dorthy and two other members of the club. What followed was chaos ending in Dorthy’s body slumping to the ground. Her head soon followed before it was crushed under the foot of something massive like the two victims before her.

Then, whatever was there seemed to fade, leaving a shaken group to answer those that approached the disturbance. Most of them dispersed when allowed to, heading home and looking constantly over their shoulder. However, instead of one witness that saw something more than just air, there were two.

~~~~~

You heard cursing as Dakota raced out the door. You yawned emerging from the bedroom and pulling out something easy for breakfast before turning on the news, at which point you quickly found out why Dakota had raced out so fast as it talked of both Cassidy and Dorthy’s deaths, now showing photos of all three deaths, if cropped and censored to cut out the worst of the gore, as well as the two witnesses claiming to have seen what the previous victims had before.

Jerry Walters and Chrissy Forger were both members of the book club and you couldn’t help but fret over your thoughts about the rest of the group if three members had now been targeted. But, once again, you knew that worrying over it would not help and tried to busy yourself with chores you had half started the day before.

Time flew, and soon it was just after noon, at which point you discovered Dakota had left his lunch at home in his haste to get to work, as he often did. Knowing the awful options around there otherwise, you tried to ignore your fear and made your way out to catch a bus to the precinct, a familiar route from the number of times you had done this before.

Upon arriving, you found it mostly empty, just the receptionist and a few officers looking over paperwork, the rest you assumed were at the sites of the murders. The receptionist recognized you instantly as you walked over to check in.

“Should I just leave this here or can I give this straight to Dakota?”

You were unsure where he was, but the receptionist waved you on.

“He’s questioning the witnesses at the moment, but it’s been hours and I’m sure they would all appreciate a quick break. If nothing else, you can drag Dakota away so the rest of the officers can discuss a protection detail or protective custody for the two of them.”

You nodded, waving slightly at the officers in the corner as you headed to the room pointed out to you. Knocking lightly on the door, the quiet murmurs within went quiet and Dakota called for you to enter. Their eyes widened briefly when they saw you, but he quickly noticed the bag in your hands. You waved slightly to Jerry and Chrissy. Jerry waved back hesitantly, while Chrissy just nodded.

“I’m just here to drop this off, but they want your input on whether to give them a detail or keep them in protective custody. But, I guess that’s for you to decide, so I’ll be heading home now.”

Dakota nodded and kissed you on the cheek, waving you off, before turning to the two at the table.

“I’ll be right back, I’ll leave the door open, so just shout if you need any help.”

With that, he swept out, walking through a phantom solid and present only to the two at the table. They shivered as a voice filled their ears before the figure vanished once more.

“It seems I have found my goal. My revenge is almost complete, but let’s not rush it, shall we? I shall be back after I have some time with my beloved. But be warned, one word of this to anyone here and you both will be dead.”

~~~~~

The ride home was quiet, with only a few others on the bus by the time you reached your stop. Despite that, you felt at ease as if Dakota had come back with you. Instead, unbeknownst to you, it was the creature that was causing all this beside you, trying desperately to hold your hand, hug you, or even just touch you.

Despite what it had said about not rushing things, if anyone could see it now, they would see how much desperation was present in the murderer’s form.

You continued past your apartment to pick up a few items from the corner store, especially since the supermarket was likely still an active crime scene. The phantom continued to follow, unseen fire flickering wildly the longer you continued to chat with the cashier, oblivious to their presence. It calmed only once you were alone once more in the so called safety of home.

~~~~~

And so it stayed for two weeks, during which time the figure grew hateful of anything that ruined the time spent alone with (Y/n). They both found out, through Dakota, that Jerry and Chrissy were to be held for two weeks, and if nothing happened, then they would be released with a twenty four seven detail to keep them safe.

“Considering how fast the first three victims went, and the fact that holding them is more distracting for the higher ups, they set the limit at two weeks. I had to push for the details after that, otherwise they would just be released with no protection. It’s so irritating!”

Dakota grumbled, falling back with his head coming to rest in (Y/n)’s lap as they giggled at him before combing their hands through his hair. The angered figure swiping at Dakota from their position nearly wrapped around (Y/n) went unnoticed by both.

“Hey, at least you got it. So, just another week and then hopefully the detail will keep them both safe. Both of them were always so polite at my store whenever they stopped by for the meetings. I hope they will be alright.”

Dakota looked up at the despondent look on their face. He sighed, lifting himself up and turning around slightly to wrap their hands gently around the sides of (Y/n)’s face. They sealed their fate as he sweetly kissed them in front of the suddenly still creature shadowing their lives.

“I promise, I will do everything in my power to keep them and you safe from whatever is causing all this. So, make sure to stay as safe as possible and I will try to do the same.”

He leaned in to kiss (Y/n) once more, and then one more time before they fell back onto the bed, covering them with most of his body. The creature stood there and took it all in, white hot rage coursing through him at what took place before him. The only thing holding him back was the plan that found a place to root itself within his mind as he swiped furiously at Dakota, gently stroked (Y/n)’s cheek, and stood up to leave, still unnoticed by the couple. A smile widened as flames roared to life. They stepped out of the apartment and were almost instantly on ground level, atop a massive horse that took off at the flick of its reins. As it sped through the streets, unnoticed by all it passed, the dark promise that slipped into the air hung for only a moment as a spine chilling laugh followed after, causing a shiver to go down the spines of those in the area.

“Enjoy divinity while you can, Dakota. For in a week you will be left with nothing, as you deserve.”

~~~~~

The day had finally arrived. Dakota parted ways with (Y/n) as they headed to their bookstore, while he got into his car and headed into work. Jerry and Chrissy had been silent and shaky the first few days, but slowly relaxed as nothing seemed to happen. He hoped it would stay this way and that the protection details helped keep them safe.

Most of the day was filled with paperwork and filling out shifts for the officers on the details, but finally, as the four officers assigned to the first shift headed towards the houses of the two, Dakota arrived at the holding room to bring them both home. However, upon opening the door, what greeted their eyes was a bloody mess from a headless Jerry and Chrissy following suit as a sword swung and slid through her neck like butter, a spray of blood following that splattered around the room and across Dakota’s uniform. Finally, he saw what monster was causing all this as the horse reared up before bringing its hooves down upon the detached heads. A voice seemed to resonate from no where and everywhere at the same time as a gloved hand pointed directly at Dakota.

“Run if you want, but I will track you down and kill you the same as all the others. You will be my final bloody sacrifice to the tragedy your ancestors caused long ago. And then I shall finally reunite with my beloved (Y/n).”

Dakota bolted, somehow avoiding being seen as he rushed to the car and started it up, the only thing on their mind being the possibility of getting far enough from town with (Y/n) that the beast could not follow them any further.

They should be closing the store soon, so with their first destination in mind, they sped off, refusing to give up and let the monster win, not when there was still a chance to escape and survive this horrible series of events.

~~~~~

The sound of screeching tires reached your ears as you locked up the store. You didn’t pay it any mind until a very familiar car was barreling down the road and pulling to a screeching stop right beside you. You could only blink in confusion as Dakota, with blood covering part of his uniform, got out of the car and started tugging you towards it. You balked, unsure what to make of this situation.

“Wait, wait, wait! Slow down, Dakota. What is going on? Why are you covered in blood? Aren’t you still supposed to be at work?”

“There’s no time (Y/n)! They were all right, the killer is a headless horseman! And now he’s after me and you. We need to get out of town now before he starts coming after us.”

Dakota used your confusion to finally pull you up to the side, gently shove you in, and buckle you firmly into place. They came around to the other side and he buckled in himself. They started up the car once more before peeling off down the road once more. Dakota was frantic and obviously scared, but if what they said and saw was true, then there was no doubt why. Still, you felt this was a little extreme and voiced your thoughts as the paved road became shadowed by the tall trees of the forest and the sign wishing you happy travels from the town flashed by.

“I refuse to take this lying down. I’ve been after this monster without knowing what it truly is. And if what he said is true, then I certainly don’t want him to get his claws into you, as well. All of these deaths and incidents have happened in town, so I’m just hoping beyond hope that if we get far enough from town we may be able to escape.”

You furrowed your brows as Dakota sped up, driving recklessly on such a narrow sighted road, but before you could say anything, the sudden sound of thunderous hoofbeats filled the air and a menacing cackle broke through the otherwise silent forest.

“Run, run all you like! But you haven’t escaped me yet Dakota!”

Dakota flinched as you turned to look through the back windshield.

“Don’t tell me you can hear him (Y/n)?”

Your eyes widened as you spotted the towering horse racing ever closer to the car and the large figure perched steadily atop it, clad in a dark coat, with black boots and leather gloves encasing the hands. A long sword sheath could be seen at the waist of the figure, and blood could be seen splattered lightly on the tan riding pants encasing the legs of the figure. But, most notably, there was a flaming jack o lantern held firmly under one arm as the other was occupied with urging the horse onward. As soon as you laid eyes on the pumpkin, it felt like the eyes locked onto your form and the grin carved into it seemed to widen as your breath stuttered at the sight. You fell back into the seat.

“I can. And I can see him too. I’m pretty sure he saw me as well.”

As if to prove your point, the voice rang into the air once more as Dakota tried to keep up the speed as the road began to wind.

“Lovely (Y/n), can you finally see me? It’s been centuries and my soul called out but yours never answered. But now you see and soon you will know. Stay where you are and I shall have you once more, as it should be.”

Confusion and fear filled you as Dakota slammed on the gas, pushing the car to its limits in an attempt to stay ahead of the beastly form steadily approaching. However, there was no time for anymore conversation as Dakota tried to take a quick glance behind and wound up spinning off the road. As the car slammed into a tree and the airbags quickly deployed, the clopping sound of hooves was ear deafening before fading slightly from earshot as it wound up rocketing past the crash. An angered scream trailed off as you slowly came back from the sudden pain throughout your body. Your side of the car had impacted the tree, leaving you to rely on Dakota to quickly pull you out. You cried out in pain, but Dakota continued to tug you out and brushed off as much glass as he could from the shattered window before lifting you into his arms and staggering into the forest.

They had been injured as well, but the adrenaline coursing through their body enabled them to make it far enough into the trees to stay out of view when the monstrous horse and rider stomped towards the wreckage. His angered shouts pulled you from your near black out as the car shrieked in protest as it was torn and smashed in a fit of rage. Dakota carefully set you back on your feet, taking your hand and running further off into the forest as the threats and sounds of metal faded further behind your retreating backs.

“I’ll find you! I’ll find you and I will tear your head from your neck with my bare hands Dakota! You can’t run from me forever, I will find you and I will kill you! There is nothing you or anyone else can do about it!”

You sniffled, stumbling slightly as tears filled your vision, but Dakota tugged you onwards. A sudden steep drop stopped your frantic run in its tracks. A rushing river, filled with rapids and sharp rocks was all that awaited you below your feet. The pause to consider which way to go gave you enough time to hear the now menacing sound of stomping hooves growing closer once more. You took the lead now, racing off towards what looked like a building towards the right. Dakota panicked but quickly caught on and took the lead once more as they heard what you did. The building turned out to be a covered bridge, stretching from one side of the ravine to the other. Dakota raced onwards, tugging you along, focused only on getting to possible safety, as you looked over your shoulder as the horse burst through the woods, creating its own trail through the forest and onto the path you were on now, closing the distance in mere seconds.

Your scream filled the air as you squeezed your eyes shut, expecting to get trampled. Instead, a firm arm looped around your middle, tearing you away from Dakota’s grasp and up, up, up into the air before you found yourself held firmly to the horseman. A scream left your lips once more as you saw Dakota get trampled instead, bringing him down just before the bridge.

The horse trotted around their downed form before coming to a stop at the urging of the rider. You squirmed, trying to get out of the iron like grip he had on you, stopping only as his other arm was raised to bring the flaming pumpkin up to eye level. A whimper escaped your lips as the eyes seemed to take in everything they saw before a voice seemed to emerge from both the pumpkin and the stump where his head should have been to begin with.

“(Y/n). You have not changed at all, still as lovely as the day I saw you last, the day they took everything that mattered from me. They called you a witch, screaming for your head just as they had for mine. But you did not come back like I did, a wretched beast living only for death and destruction. No, you have come back perfect and whole. And I shall never let you leave again. I will never let you be taken again. I shall never let you die again. I will keep you safe once more, my love. Now, stay put while I deal with the last of this trash.”

His hand placed the pumpkin over the stump on his neck, fire roaring from the top as the pumpkin took the place of his missing head. Before you could truly react, his arm uncoiled from your waist as he hopped down. Then, you found yourself suddenly tied down to the saddle, with rope pulled from a saddle bag, stuck until he decided to unravel the knots suddenly binding your body to the horse. You still tried as he approached Dakota, but could do nothing as one large hand grabbed their hair and yanked them up as the other wrapped around his neck and began to squeeze.

“Now, I believe I did promise I would tear your head from your neck with my bare hands and I always keep my promises. Hold still, this will only be worse if you struggle.”

You should have looked away or struggled harder or done something, anything to prevent this horror from playing out. But the adrenaline had run out, fear had overwhelmed you, and the pain from the crash was no longer dulled by a race through the trees, so you watched every second of the horrible feat of strength, heard every agonizing cry and tear of flesh from Dakota, and could smell the fresh blood fill the air as it sprayed from the now dead body of your lover. Dakota’s head was dropped from bloody, gloved hands. You sobbed as it rolled slightly to reveal the fear still engraved on the face.

The horseman approached the saddle, tugging the ropes from your form and pulling your limp form up to lean back against his firm chest, hands leaving bloody smears everywhere they touched. You couldn’t even bring yourself to struggle as he flicked the reins and the horse started moving once more. It stepped over the remains, one heavy hoof falling on the head and caving it in with a loud crunch before beginning to pick up speed once more, racing along the side of the cliff. With the jack o lantern still firmly on top of the neck, it left him a free hand to hold your form close as his voice filtered into your ears above the thundering of the running horse.

“I was a little worried there darling. A little farther and I wouldn’t have been able to get either of you. But, it matters no more, Dakota is dead and you are safe in my arms. As you should have been from the start.”

Tears continued to trickle down your face as the horse pulled away from the river, heading further and further into the darkening forest, taking both its rider and captive away from help, leaving only a wrecked car and a brutally dismantled body to be found behind them.

~~~~~

In a somber studio, another news report was being broadcast, this time with more horror than ever before.

“In other news, the murders that have plagued our town find no solace with the fact that the fourth and fifth victims; Jerry Walters and Chrissy Forger, have been discovered dead just before their release from protective custody. The lead on the case, Dakota Koche, was supposed to see them off but when they did not return, and the bodies were found, a search had been initiated, with Dakota and their lover; (Y/n) seeming to have vanished from town.”

Censored images of the two bloody bodies are shown, followed by pictures of the next two possible victims appearing on screen. This is quickly followed by more grave news.

“Authorities soon discovered a wrecked car off the road through the forest and matched the plates to Dakota. They followed a small trail to the side to discover their body, in much the same condition as all the other victims at a covered bridge leading further into the forest, the only difference seemed to be that his head had been brutally ripped off rather than cut off. However, (Y/n) has still not been found, leading us to believe they may have gotten away for the time being. The forest shall be searched to try to find them, whatever condition they may be in. Remember, any information you may have on the victims or the mysterious killer will be helpful, send in any evidence as soon as possible.”

The broadcast ended with a scrolling list of the victims and the information gathered so far, while the image of the missing person remained smiling to the viewers.

#yandere #yandere monster #headless horseman #yandere x reader #yandere mythology #Folk tales #still no idea what exactly to put in the tags #Murder #there is murder in here

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