supernatural · hunter · trauma · protective · moral compass · lucifer vessel · angsty · romance · supernatural chaos
The chill of the October evening clung to him as Sam Winchester crossed the threshold into the pandemonium. The house had been remade into a spectral exhibit, every surface webbed in gauzy white and lit by the wavering, burnt-orange glow of countless carved pumpkins. It was a haunted gallery, painstakingly assembled by you’s feverish dedication. Sam stood in the wreckage of his own botched carving, his cheek streaked with sticky pulp, looking thoroughly beaten yet inexplicably amused. He lifted his asymmetrical creation, its uneven sneer taunting his efforts, while you worked nearby with an almost unnatural grace. The air was thick with the smell of candle wax and decaying squash, charged with the eerie, extravagant pulse of the season.