#johnny slaughter x y/n | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sinsofbeauty · 7 months

Text

Red Stained Sunflower Pt.2

Fandom: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre Game

Pairing: Johnny Slaughter x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Use of Pet Names, Suggestive Nsfw content, Mentions of Kidnapping, Obsessive/Clingy Johnny, Jealous Johnny, Small mention of murder

Requested?: Yee

Overview: Looks like you bailed on the little invitation Johnny had asked of you. It wasn’t because you didn’t want to, you actually got quite intimidated. Though that doesn’t stop him from seeking you out and making his intentions clear

A/n: So many of you wanted this to be a series, so here it is!! This is part 2 of 3!

Please comment if you would like to be tagged for part three!!! Enjoy!

Minors DNI!!!!

Part 1 - Red Stained Sunflower

“Hey Daddy?” You asked your father with the turn of your head. “How long are we gonna be in town for?”

He took a quick glance over to you before shrugging, “Oh maybe an hour or two. Just meeting with some old friends.”

You nodded your head and moved to look out the window. “I was talking to Maria on the telephone, she wanted to see if I could stop by the roller rink.” You replied to his comment. “Hope you don’t mind if I take a little detour.”

You were supposed to accompany Johnny out to the fields last night, but you decided to remain home instead. Now you were making arrangements with friends as though you weren't worried about the entire situation. You felt terrible, but you also couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the circumstances. Yes, Johnny was appealing, and his words would make you want to explode. But LORD! Johnny Slaughter was intimidating.

Your only concern on the trip into town with your father was the fact that you had essentially abandoned one of the Slaughter Brothers. How were you going to justify your absence because you were anxious? Private moments with him... Ugh!! You weren't sure how you would be able to face him after abandoning him in that way. Like, seriously. How were you going to explain to a man like him that the reason you didn't appear was because you're a virgin…?

Your heart was racing when you arrived to the roller rink. Even though you were still troubled by thoughts of Johnny, seeing the group at the rink's entrance helped you feel less concerned. Even if you weren't close to them, you had Maria there to keep you company, so it was well worth it to slip away from your father and his group of friends to spend time with your own. You immediately identified their faces. Connie, Julie, and Ana were all grinning and laughing as Leland and Sonny stood to the side. When Maria's eyes finally found you after searching, they completely lit up.

“Hey! Y/n over here!!” Her delighted voice echoed from across the street.

As you approach everyone, you wave and smile. They all appeared to be happy to see you, which gave you a strange feeling. Can't hold yourself to blame, though; you haven't been able to leave the house much because you've been so cooped up inside helping your father with his work.

“Hey guys!” You say, greeting them happily.

“Y/n! I’m so glad you could make it!” Maria gave you a nice warm hug in return. “You remember Ana don’t you? We brought a couple friends along if you don’t mind!”

“Oh no of course not! It’ll be fun!” You shrug your shoulders, waving your arm to brush off any doubt about more people. “Let’s go inside, yeah?”

Some of the group had their own skates, while others had to rent them when they entered the rink. Since you didn’t own any skates, you obtained a pair that fit you and sat down. Though you found yourself stuck tying and untying your shoelaces. Simply said, they weren't secure enough, and you didn't intend to break an ankle today. Before you notice someone roll over, you sigh and wipe your sweaty palms on your jeans.

“Need some help?”

In his sky blue shirt and navy blue jeans, which were fastened by a brown belt, Leland stood in front of you. The skates he had rented took the place of his shoes, and he was able to move around in them with ease. He was on the wrestling team in high school, and you somewhat recognized him from there. He also hung around with this little group of people. He was really kind to say the least, tall, strong, and fairly attractive for a young man his age.

Your eyes look up at the man who you nodded at with a smile. “Please, I’m having trouble tying them tight enough.”

The Texan smirks and bends down, taking one of your feet and pulling at the strings. “Let me know if it’s too tight, okay?” You nodded once more at his voice as he started tying your skates. Before moving on to the next, he questioned as to whether or not they felt snug enough for you. You felt good about it, and he was very considerate in making the gesture. “Alright, how do they feel?” He asked standing up.

As you rise up, you circle your feet before nodding your head in appreciation. “Perfect. Better than I could ever do. Thank you, Leland.”

His eyes squint when he gives a genuine smile, a gesture to your thankful remark. “Anytime. Say, I don’t see ya’ around here often. Do ya’… know how to skate?”

Oh dear God, you can't recall the last time you entered that rink. You probably haven't done it in months, and you weren't doing it frequently to begin with. You chuckle nervously while rubbing your hands together behind your back. “Uh… kinda? It’s been a while.” You admit to him. “I’m not the best skater but it’ll come back! I just get nervous when other people go fast past me.”

Just standing there made your legs feel like jello. You tried to move closer to Leland but all you did was sway back and forth. He chuckled at this, the male moving forward to grab your shoulders and prevent you from toppling. “I can teach ya’, practice makes perfect.”

“Says the one who was in the wrestling team.” You roll your eyes at him, making the man laugh in response. “I’d be on the ground more times than you’d like.”

“Hey! I’m a good teacher! We can go nice and slow at first, and you’ll still have a great time… in the rink, I mean. That sounded so weird…”

You giggled at his words, making his cheeks dust a soft pink. He was such a dork… cute.

“Come on guys! We’ve been waiting!” Exclaims Julie from the rink, making you and Leland look over.

“We’re coming,” You said, shifting past Leland with your wobbly legs as you made your way over. “I’m trying not to die. You guys are much more experienced at this.”

You almost went over with just one foot on that surface, but once you were stable, everything was good. Leland swiftly followed after you as you joined the others with a sigh of relief. Getting acclimated to the people and the surroundings took some time. You were still unable to go as quickly as Julie or Maria, who frequently sped by you.

“I’m gonna go around a couple times. Think you can handle it on ya’ own?” Leland asks, that genuine smile making you give one in return.

“For now. Go ahead, I’ll catch up eventually.”

After hearing your response, he quickly speeds away while teasing Maria and Julie about catching up. You chuckle, enjoying how this afternoon will play out. It was lovely to see everyone enjoying themselves. Being outside of the house felt wonderful. The gang laughed and joked as they skated around the rink. Leland was always there to catch you even if you were a little awkward and nearly fell a few times. He gave you a comforting smile as you both laughed despite how embarrassing it was. The group stopped to acquire some food after some time spent skating. Even though your heart was still beating from all the excitement, you were happy that you and your friends were having such a good time.

After a few hours, everyone departed the rink exhausted but content. You said your goodbyes and thanked them for an amazing time. You were relieved that you had chosen to go out with them as opposed to staying home or being barraged by your father’s older friends who wanted to talk to you.

“Hey Y/n,” Leland had said, catching you before you left. “I was wondering, I usually come around here at this time of day. Did you… wanna skate with me next week?”

You thought about it, and it didn’t hurt to meet some new people around. Even though he was closer with Maria, maybe a new group of people would be nice to hang around with. “Sure. Are you busy next Friday?”

“Great! Uhm… No, that should be fine. I’ll see ya’ then?”

You nodded your head, grinning as you left, feeling satisfied with the events of the day as you made your way back to meet with your father.

——

After a long, productive day, you were just finishing your shower at home. You check that your hair isn't excessively dripping before stepping out of the restroom while you're wrapped in a towel. No one was awake to bother you this late in the evening since your father was asleep. Your room was upstairs, turning left down the hall and another left past the bathroom across from it. Your father was immediately up the stairs to the right of the hall in his own room.

You entered your room and turned to lock the door behind you before turning on the lights. Despite the events earlier, your mind still wandered to Johnny. Johnny, Johnny, Johnny. Once more, you were unable to remove him from your head. Another day without communication meant that you would have to make an effort to avoid having to give an explanation. You sigh and close your eyes before turning to head for your dresser. In spite of this, as soon as you open them, you jump and cover your mouth to stifle the surprised sound that escapes from you.

“Johnny!” Looking at the man who was idly sitting on your bed fiddling with his hair, you blurted out. Your heart was pounding furiously. What the hell was he doing here? How did he get in here? What is he doing here??? He just sat in the dark, waiting for you to come in like… like a weirdo!! “The fuck are you doing? Why are you in my room?!”

His clothing caught your attention because it was a little different from what he typically wore. He appeared to have just taken a shower because his hair was moist and combed back. His navy blue jeans were fastened to his hips by a brown belt, and his dark gray long sleeve shirt was rolled to the dips of his arms just above his elbows. He wore his worn-out boots, without gloves to protect his calloused hands, and grinned endlessly.

“Should really keep that back window locked. So much easier than havin’ ta’ lock pick my way in at night.” He spoke quietly, as if he knew your father was in the room next to him. Low, as if he knew what trouble sneaking in here could get him into. “Ya’ don’t look happy ta’ see me sweetpea. Did I do something~?”

“Well for one, you’re in my room… uninvited.” You drew closer to the man who was lounging on your bed, your brows furrowed at him, your nose flared. “And I’m in a towel…naked! What if I started changing because I didn’t know you were here??”

Your face instantly turned red as his smile grew larger. He wasn't even required to respond to the question. You snort before turning around and returning to your door to lock it. The worst-case scenario would be your father interrupting you two. Yes, you were a grown woman, but technically speaking, sneaking someone into the house would not look so inviting. Especially if it was the Slaughter boy.

“Jesus… just— why are you here?” You ask, turning back to the man who you didn’t realize stood in those moments you were turned around. He appeared... distracted. It seemed as though he was thinking about or bothered by something.

“Oh me? I jus’ wanted ta’ see ya’!” He said with the slight wave of his hands. “I wanted ta’ know whatchu were doin’, cause… obviously, it wasn’t me.”

“Yeah about that…” You trailed off, looking at the floor for a moment. It was… a nice floor. Maybe staring at it would help you think about how to tell him without feeling like a total idiot. “I just got… a little nervous.”

You looked up at the man as he surprised you with a chuckle. His facial expressions were unpredictable. He appears disturbed one second, then happy the next. Even just looking at him made you feel conflicted. Your hands were holding onto the towel that was about to fall down your body as he started to approach you. “Nervous hm? About what?”

You sighed as you cast a glimpse his way and fiddled with the towel covering your body. “I don’t know how to explain…”

“Come on now, ya’ don’t have ta’ be scared ‘round me,” Johnny gave reassurance while smiling oddly relaxed. Observing the shit-eating grin that emerged on his face, you gave him a little glare. “Okay maybe a lil’ bit~. But come on, it can’t be that bad!”

He makes you huff and shrug your shoulders in response. Why did talking about this seem so embarrassing? It was Johnny… In any case, he didn't have much to say about it. Right? You grumble, your mouth twitching slightly as your nose flares once more. “I didn’t come because… I was nervous about being a virgin.”

The last few words were mumbled, but it appears like Johnny heard them right away. At that instant, Johnny's lips curled into a wicked grin, which his hand moved to conceal right away. You shivered, a chill running up your spine at the laugh that burst forth from his throat seconds later. “That’s the reason? Cause, nobody’s taken yer lil’ cherry yet~?”

“It’s not funny!” You exclaim slapping his bicep, only to obtain another silly laugh from him. “It’s a sensitive thing! I have a right to be anxious about it!! Especially if… those intentions were indicated.”

“Oh honeybee, ya’ think I’d feel any different?” Johnny said with the shrug of his shoulders. “I mean— I’m a lil’ surprised! A pretty girl like you? I would’ve expected it to be long gone by now.”

“Well it’s not so you can stop teasing me about it,” You pout, crossing your arms with the shake of your head.

At that very time, Johnny was getting closer to you and dipping his head slightly. His eyebrows dropped, his gaze became unreadable, and his hands, which fiddled with his belt, twitched in anticipation as his voice abruptly shifted to a low tone. “How cute, and ta’ think, I’ll be the one takin’ it from ya’~.”

“Eh- You-…” You turned in defeat as the sentence that attempted to form failed miserably. You scowl and head to your dresser to look for something to wear. “God I hate you sometimes. I can just imagine how much it would hurt.”

Johnny smirked as he approached from behind you and gently grabbed your shoulders. “Oh I won’t hurtcha, much.” He replied. “I’ll go nice and slow for ya’ darlin’.”

“I doubt that,” Smiling, you respond before shutting the dresser door and turning to face Johnny. His eagerness was evident from the little shudder of his shoulders as his hands were now in his pockets. “You’re thinking about it too much.”

“Maybe I am~.” He says, slyly smiling while momentarily averting his gaze. “Ya’ know I can’t help myself doll. Even now, just lookin’ at ya’ makes me excited.”

You rolled your eyes after moving around him to your bed, placing your clothes on it with a soft pat. “I’m in a towel with nothing under it, of course you’re excited.” You say sarcastically.

“Well, ya’ did look good earlier today,” Johnny stated, making you freeze in place. He had a menacing smirk on his face when you turned to face him.

“You were in town today?”

“Jus’ happened ta’ be,” Responded Johnny with a shrug. “Saw ya’ walkin’ ta’ that lil’ roller rink on the side of town with ya’ lil’ friends.”

“Yeah, I had planned to go out with them that morning.” You spoke to him, fiddling with the towel.

Johnny moved a few steps closer to you while humming and tilting his head. “Oh I know! Ya’ looked like ya’ had fun, especially with pretty boy touchin’ up all on ya’.”

As much as how he seemed, his vocal tone also appeared to shift. He appeared agitated, as far as you could tell. You didn’t even have to mention Leland, he had been watching you that whole time. The encounters you had with the other young adult in question. He absolutely despised it. Just having the idea of how furious he would have been as Leland assisted you in any way he could. Was he… no, he couldn’t be.

“So, you’re telling me that you followed me and watched me with my friends today?”

The man's mouth twisted in annoyance as he let out a little giggle. “Curiosity got the best o’ me, I will admit.” Johnny said, his half lidded eyes looking away. He clenched his jaw and pursed his lips before turning to face you.

“Well, we’re just friends if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Sure– I mean, I have no problem with it! I mean if ‘e touches ya’ again,” Johnny lets out a laugh. “He never will, let’s jus’ leave it at that.”

“Oh? Is that so?” You ask with a smirk. “And to think, Johnny Slaughter is jealous of another man.”

“Jealous?! AHA– I’m not jealous!” He makes an effort to justify his obsessive tendencies, but it simply serves to highlight it. His eyes widen, “I jus’ didn’t like how ‘e was feelin’ up on ya’, how’s that bein’ jealous?!”

“You’re getting all defensive.”

“When??”

“Right now?”

“I’m jus’ sayin’ I’m not!”

You couldn't help laughing, which made the man snarl. It was cute how obvious he made it. Observing his vulnerable side manifest itself in this way due to someone else? Johnny's jealousy wasn't anything you anticipated. He was a man who frequently showed little regard for the actions or words of others. However, it was a different story when it came to you. He seems a little uneasy when his family would speak to you. The man appeared to be extremely possessive of anything he so claimed as his.

“Come on now, you don’t have to be scared around me,” You spoke.

Johnny's cheeks had turned a delicate shade of pink. He rolled his eyes at your remark and scoffed while shaking his head. “I ain’t scared sunshine,” He replied with his smile coming back. “If I was, I wouldn’t have snuck into ya’ house.” Your eyes widened in shock as the man grabbed your arm and drew you up against him. “I wouldn’t tell ya’ righ’ now, that yer my girl.”

“You don’t have me just yet.”

“Oh, I don’t?” Johnny lifts your chin and lowers his face to meet yours only a few inches away. “But ya’ want me, no? Jus’ lookin’ at those eyes ya’ want me.” Your eyelids flutter closed as he rubs his nose against yours. He was well aware of the fact that he had you. “I’ll treat ya’ like a princess darlin’, I’ll spoil ya’ so rotten that ya’ can’t get enough of me. Cause I want ya’, I need ya’.”

If this was a way for Johnny to swoon you over, he sure was doing it. However, you were curious to see how much further he would swing. He draws back his head and lets go of your chin as you open your eyes in order to tuck a hair behind your ear.

“You should tell me more.”

“Really?” Johnny says as his brows begin to converge. When he senses your seriousness, he smirks and lets out a tiny chuckle. “I’d kill for ya’, I’d die for ya’, I’m sooo head over heels.”

You smile, shaking your head. “You’re so funny.”

“Amused?” He hums, making you giggle in response. In return, pleased by the remark, Johnny snorts. “Needy lil’ thing aren’t cha’? Makin’ me all soft.”

“I thought you were excited.”

“Cheeky lil’ brat ya’ are darlin’,” Johnny scoffs. “If I wasn’t I wouldn’t be so damn close! Y’know– I wouldn’t be talkin’ fa’ someone who’s so red in the face.”

“You’re just as flustered as me,” You roll your eyes. “You should’ve seen your face when you got all jelly~.”

“Eh– I wasn’t–... sh-shut up.”

“Make me~.”

Johnny's eyes appeared to be playing cat and mouse with you. As if it wasn’t the third or fourth time he licked his lips this evening. His teeth were exposed in a ferocious smile, giving him an almost feral appearance. “Oh I could– but actually, it probably wouldn’t shut ya’ up sweetheart.” He takes your hips, making you softly gasp. “You’d be loud– no you’d be screamin’ honey. I’d make sure of that– oh I’d make sure, the only thing on your mind is me~.”

Johnny made a sound of interest as you placed your hands on his chest. The excitement he felt then was much greater. The way his hands drew you in his direction and the way they tightly grabbed your hips caught you off guard. Once more lowering his head, Johnny first brushes his cheek against yours before moving his lips toward your ear. His hands shifted, reaching your waist.

“Is that what ya’ wanted ta’ hear? How I’ll make sure those legs of ya’s are shakin’ when I fuck ya’ good? Hm? How I’ll make ya’ cum, over, and over on my cock? I can only imagine.” Your body tenses up in response to his comments, and he grins as a result. “Feelin’ ya’ squirm under me. That cute lil’ pussy clenchin’ so tight you’ll make my head spin. Ohhh darlin’, I wanna feel ya’ nails diggin’ in my back as I take ya’. Inch. By. Inch~.”

A subtle sound came from you. Considering that it was subconscious, you weren't sure if it was a whimper or a moan. Your thighs drove together as you made an effort to hide the sudden jolts that surged up through your abdomen. He... really did have a way with words.

“Awwwe~. Are ya’ gettin’ excited now?” Johnny had moved his head away from yours, taking one good look at your reddened face. His tongue ran over the top row of his teeth as he took one good look at your body. The rise and fall of your chest, your gaze struggling to meet his, and the mere sight of your thighs clamping together. Heh. How could he not notice? “It looks like ya’ are.”

You were startled, or perhaps more accurately, flustered. In that instant, Johnny made you feel just how you'd imagined when you'd read about getting hot and bothered in books. You were completely in shock as you stared at the man with your mouth open and nothing coming out of it. How could you respond to that? Could you… even respond? Observing his every move while remaining motionless, nothing came out of your lips, not a single word.

“Gotta question for ya’ doll,” He said, glancing at the wall for a moment. “Don’t have ta’ be shy now, I know what ya’ want. How about ya’ come down ta’ the fields like we planned, yeah?”

You swallowed thickly, seeing as he removed himself from you entirely. What a damn tease. “Tomorrow?”

“Preferably,” Responded Johnny. “Or ya’ plans with pretty boy can go bye bye next Friday, and ya’ can spend it with me instead.”

“You're still on that?” You say with a raised brow. “How do you even know we made plans?”

He growled and clicked the roof of his mouth with his tongue, his eyes moving away from you. “I heard ya’.”

“Heard me? Or you were eavesdropping?”

You and Johnny exchanged looks, and that glare gave you all you needed to know. Let’s be real, it’s a little odd knowing that he had been spying on you, but seeing him jealous was like seeing a spoiled little boy now getting what he wanted.

Johnny’s eyes fluttered closed with a sigh, crossing his arms in defeat. “Y’know— you… I— yer really gettin’ on my nerves!”

“Good,” You say with a small smile. “And I’ll think about coming tomorrow.”

“Oh there’s no thinkin’ honeybee,” Johnny said with a mischievous smile. “I’ll make sure yer there, I’ll steal ya’ if I need ta’— hell! If it means I need ta’ kidnap ya’.”

“You wouldn’t do that.”

“Maybe if ya’ wait long enough, you’ll find out~.”

Part 3 is up!! >>> RSSF PT.3

@optimsluv @chernayawidow @yixxes @marriedtoeddie

#johnny slaughter #johnny slaughter x reader #johnny sawyer #johnny sawyer x reader #johnny tcm #texas chainsaw massacre #tcm game #texas chainsaw game #x reader #eventual smut #suggestive content

456 notes · View notes

lavishl0ve · 7 months

Text

🩸 Johnny Slaughter x Fem Reader 🩸

!disclaimer!

I love Johnny and he low-key inspired me to write something. This is my first “fic” and is a decent length (lol), if y’all are interested in the full story please lmk!! (btw nothing spicy in this first part- sorry 😔) Thank and enjoy.💋💋

Part 1: The Cellar

Oh God, stay quiet… I silence my whimpers pushing my hand against my mouth as I watch the skinned face wearing man run around frantically. Each rev of his chainsaw had made me flinch. I slowly shift myself in the shadows hoping to avoid detection, the tall grass covering my view. The sky is painted with tones of tangerine complimented by flesh-colors. The longer time seems to pass the more I seem unable to move. I take a deep breath and squeeze my eyes shut hoping to escape reality, the darkness only paints pictures in my head. Julie. Hanging on that meat hook in that red room. I suddenly feel a wetness dripping down my cheek. We didn't deserve any of this, especially not her and God knows where the others are. I just hope they're safe. The others. I have to do this for them, I have to escape. Adrenaline seems to rush through me, I peek my head above the grass searching around hoping for a clear shot. No sign of them. I slowly ascend and sneak towards what seems to be the closest exit. I dive back into a patch of grass as I hear the sound of the chainsaw approaching again. The sounds accompanied with female screams… Ana’s screams. My body makes its own decision and suddenly I flee from the grass patch running towards the gated fence, the sky darkening. Keep running Y/N. Just keep running. Tears blur my vision as the scream becomes distant for each pace I run. I shouldn't, I can't help doing so, only hoping to confirm reality. I look behind my shoulder, that man drilling the chainsaw through her abdomen, her blue tank top now red. Stained with her own blood. I run faster but can't help to look away. A loud snap erupts from beneath me; fire engulfs my right leg and I trip over. My ankle caught in some bone contraption it had cut deep, deep enough to see tissue. That man sensed the sound, revving up his stalled chainsaw, I look back panicking and quickening my pace to release myself. The pain is horrific. Blood drips into my shoes and I limp towards that gate. No. The faint symbol of a red padlock is tightened around the gate. I won't make it. I scream out in pain hoping for the slightest bit of hope. A deteriorating wooden barn. Maybe I can hide there. I shift my direction pulling my leg along with me as that man approaches. I ran through the large doors, the barn still in darkness. I looked behind again, that man hadn't been able to squeeze through the crawl space I shimmied through. I have distance. I’ll be okay. I face forward and crash into a hard surface. I fall back onto the floor and my vision blurs. Blood rushing to my brain, fumbling the noise around me, the chainsaw re-approaching and the laugh of a man in front of me, faint footsteps walk toward me, the orange hues of the sky paint out his features. My vision is blurry, I can only map out his sleeveless tank top, and his slicked hair…? He grips a knife in his right hand. He crouches down his arms wrapping around my waist. I groan out in pain. His hard chest instituted a throbbing headache, my head pounding. He leans forward toward my face.

“Oh, I’m keeping you.” The man growls.

Then with a effortless hurl he throws me over his shoulder. My sight goes foggy. I can’t lose consciousness now. Stay awake. With each step the man takes his shoulder digs deeper into my stomach. I can't seem to stay awake. No need to fight back anymore. This is my fate.

“S’okay, I got er’ boy.” The man says, “Put that chainsaw to use. Find the other one.”

A low moan had replied from the man with the chainsaw, like an agreement. Wait- the other one…? Leland! He’s still alive! I cry out, putting each ounce of strength into my punches trying to knock myself down from the man's shoulder.

“No need to fight me on this Darlin’. You’ll just make it harder for yourself.” He remarks.

I grunt still trying to fight back. I’ve done no damage to anything but myself. I feel my energy slip away along with my consciousness…

—------------------------------------------------------

I awaken to the cold beneath me, I sit on the wet concrete ground. My vision clears, I look above, my wrists had been tied to the wall. I pull against the rope hoping to loosen them. I feel my blood circulation cutting off, my hands are numbing. It’s too tight and I can't seem to make any wiggle room. I look around hoping for some sort of tool I can use. Nothing. The cell just contains a worn-out mattress. Just great. I crawl over on the mattress hoping it’ll bring me more comfort than the cold floor. It’s better…I guess. I sit in silence, my head against the stone wall for what feels like an eternity. I fumble with my shirt. My shirt- it’s different. Damn. That outfit I had on was my favorite. Now I’m stuck in this worn out oversized black shirt. Realization had hit me, they changed my clothes, had that man undressed me? Shivers ran through my veins; I disregard the thought. Suddenly a woman skips in front of my cell giggling whilst peeking through. I hadn’t heard her approach.

“Aww, you’se caught yourself an aw’fully purty one.” The woman remarked.

She dragged her razor blade along the iron bars making a scraping sound, hitting each bar. Laughing mockingly.

“Leave the girl alone Sissy.” The man approached.

The same man from earlier had stood next to the woman supposedly named Sissy. He jumbled his keys, standing in front of the lock for the cellar.

“Ain’tcha got things to do??” The man says sternly.

“You ain’t no fun Johnny.” She replies, clicking her tongue and walking away.

Johnny inserts the key into the lock, twisting it and sliding the cell door open. Then closes it behind him. I find myself backing against the corner, the cold shooting through my spine once my bottom contacts with the cold floor again. Johnny turns around, walks over toward the mattress and sits down, his arms resting on his knees. I sat a few inches away from him. Completely defenseless. He shifts his head toward the left a bit, enough only so he could see me. I stare down at the ground avoiding eye contact. He analyzes me for a while. Complete silence.

“You can look at me y’know?” He breaks the silence.

I feel tears dwelling in my eyes, “What do you want?”

“Ain’t no need to be cryin’ sweetheart, ‘m not gonna hurt ya’...” He trails off.

He removes some sort of compact tin from his jean pocket, following a roll of gauze...? He places them on the mattress and gestures to my leg where I’d been caught. It takes me a moment to realize what he’s motioning towards. I look down and realize my leg has been wrapped up. I gasp slightly, surprised he wouldn't have just let me rot. I scoot forward slowly allowing him to have access to my ankle, I watch slowly as he unwraps the bandage trying to see the damage that was done. I hiss once the cold air touches the wound.

“Those damn traps he be makin’,” he laughs shaking his head, “Work a lil’ too well.”

Johnny then grabs the tin container from his side, it contains some sort of topical cream. He rubs two fingers into the paste and rubs it over the wound.

“Ah-” I groan in pain. The topical stinging my cut.

“You’se all right sweetheart.” He reassures me.

I shut my eyes, furrowing my brows waiting for the stinging to be over. I can feel the gauze wrapping lightly around my ankle. For a man that had brought me and held me captive in their basement Johnny's surprisingly gentle. I can't tell why but, I find myself ease around him a bit.

“Johnny-” I speak,

He looks up at me inquisitive, like I said something wrong. He raises his eyebrows, waiting.

“...why are you helping me?”

He chuckles to himself; a piece of his hair drops in front of his face.

“Can’t have our food spoiled now, can we?” He looks up.

My eyes widen at his response, I try and jerk my leg away, but his grip stays firm, his calloused hands keeping me from backing away.

“I was jokin’.”

He finishes tying up the gauze and rises to his feet. He leaves, re-locking the cell door. And then again, I’m left in the cell waiting, thinking. I try to stand seeing where I am, yet can’t reach the front of the cell, my wrists beginning to burn from all the tugging on the rope. I stop, throwing myself on the rough mattress. My dreams ought to be better than this place, right?

————————————————————————

#johnny tcm #tcm #johnny x reader #johnny slaughter #johnny slaughter x reader #tcm x reader #leland tcm #tcm game #johnny sawyer #johnny sawyer x reader #fanfic #x reader #julie tcm #ana tcm

233 notes · View notes

helluvaloverx3 · 20 days

Text

[Truthfully Yours]

Johnny “Slaughter” Sawyer x G/N Reader

Warning: Stockholm syndrome, implications of sexual activities, threats

——————————————————————————

Survival was more of a complicated concept than you ever would think. When you’re trapped laying on top of a serial killer cannibal secretly basking in the smell of his cologne— the meaning of survival blurs.

Your plan was to get the cold brooding man’s trust, and take a chance to make a run for it when the moment came. But now? You didn’t want to move— this was the chance! You could get up and leave right now! He wouldn’t notice, he didn’t even notice your hands touching his face… He never let you do that before. Finally touching his scar on his face, you couldn’t help biting your lip.

The door of his stack was right there…

‘Leave.’ The voice in your head told you. His face was so peaceful— he wouldn’t know the difference if you got up.

The days blended together, the closer Johnny got to you. He opened up about his past— his biological mother and his abusive adoptive mother, Nancy. He’s only doing what he thought was okay. Unfortunately, he’s a killer, no one can come back from that. He learned to like it as much as he didn’t at first. It’s too late.

You try and push against his arms that wrapped around your waist, but it was so tight. He stirs in his sleep and his hand grazed the bite mark on your skin. You screw your mouth shut into a thin line to keep quiet— quite struggling to do so. Once he stopped moving again and his face fell again, you slide out his arms instead. Sliding out your feet plant onto the floor full of cigarettes and beer bottles. You’re careful to not touch any of the rolling glass bottles. Once full standing, you tip toe to the door, the floor planks creaking under your weight—

“Darlin’.”

Your heart dropped, your body froze. You turn around to see his eyes glaring at your figure, “Y-Yes?” You stutter.

His lips curved into a dangerous smile. “Where do ya think you’re goin’?” he asked, and the room closed in.

“I was just— um,” You pause, “I was trying to find some bandages for the bites you said you’d clean up…”

… That was the most obvious lie you’ve ever made and you were probably going to die because of it.

His gaze flickered to the side table, where the gauze and wrapping lay innocently. Wait, will he actually believe you? Could he see through your lie?

Johnny’s smile widened, “Bandages,” he breathed out, drawing out the word. “You’re a terrible liar, darlin’.” His voice held a threat, staring you a snake about to strike. “But I’ll play along.”

He got up and stepped closer, and panic surged through your veins. Holding your breath your survival instincts screamed at you to flee, to run for the door— it was still unlocked, freedom was only a door away but Johnny’s scarred hand reached for the gauze, and you let your breath go. You knew better than to try and run— especially from Johnny.

His touch was surprisingly gentle as he examined the bite mark on your side.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, tracing the edges of the wound, your face contorted into a painful look. You don’t say anything but he continues,

“And I take care of what’s mine.” His fingers lingered, and you wondered if he could hear your heart pounding. “Next time, don’t lie. I prefer honesty out of you.”

The door remained unlocked, but Johnny’s eyes held you captive.

As he wrapped the bandage around your waist and put it over your wound, you wondered if you could change his story.

Even if he understood your plan to try and escape he still had a gentle hand with you. You will never understand his obsession with you but when he leaned in and kissed your bruised neck you got a whiff of his cologne again it all melted away. His obsession could be that he wanted to taste you or keep you under his body in the late of nights— you didn’t care. You’ve never had a man be so enamored with you to the point he marked and healed you at the same time.

He whispered against your throat, his breath a promise or a threat. “You’re mine.” He repeated.

“Yours,” you whispered, and the word hung in the air. You couldn’t tell if it was a confession or a surrender. His lips curved, capturing your mouth in a kiss that tasted of desperation and longing. His teeth grazed your lower lip, marking you anew. You wondered if he tasted regret or redemption.

I repeated, “I’m yours.”

His rough hand cradled your face, and for a moment, you seen a glimpse of vulnerability in the man eyes. His lips were captured in his teeth, his lids droops in haze when he heard you, “There you go, baby…” He breathed out. He bathe in this.

As you leaned into his touch, you wondered if redemption was possible. His lips captured yours and it felt as if he was trying to devour you.

Even if he was a killer and ate our kind, you looked past it— it was never his fault…

#johnnyslaughter #johnny slaughter #tcm #tcm game #tcmgame #texas chainsaw massacre #johnnysawyer #johnny sawyer #johnny sawyer fanfic #johnny slaughter fanfic #johnny slaughter x reader #stockhom syndrome #tw murder

66 notes · View notes

lil-spider · 8 months

Text

So Damn Pretty

Chapter 2

Part 1 : Part 3 :

Pairing: Johnny Slaughter X Female Reader

Summary: Johnny is sex starved and you’re very attractive, so attractive that he doesn’t want to kill you. Instead he finds ways to keep you around longer.

Note: Okey I’ve changed some stuff so here’s some context. I like the idea of Johnny being a bit of an sex addict and he’s really good at sex (he can find the clit type of good) cause he’s made himself a hobby fucking the pretty female victims and going out to the local bar when he actually gets free time. He’s a basically massive man whore, but he can’t help it that women find him sexy (super cocky). But Drayton later finds out he’s been fucking the food (lmao) and has temporarily banned him from going out by himself and keeping the female victims away from him. So a sex starved Johnny who’s heavily attracted to the reader sees an opportunity to use her like a maid so he can constantly keep fucking her. I’m still gonna keep the baby momma thing but that will come later in the story. Oh and I’m turning 21 on the 17th! So happy birthday to my fellow September babies!

Warning: This is 18+ and please do not read if your sensitive to heavy descriptions of non/con and violence. Including bondage, blood, gore, assault, objectification and unsafe sex. For those who don’t mind, I hope you enjoy.

Catchy music was blearing out of the front speakers of the minivan; my friends Jessica and Nate were singing along to the tunes. I was sitting in the back, relaxing into my seat, enjoying the fact that college was finished and summer holidays were just beginning. We decided this summer we were going to experience camping for the first time. We had all grown up in the city and never got the chance to enjoy the country side of Texas. I’m excited to finally cross camping off my bucket list, and make this summer memorable.

My bubbly blonde friend Jessica turned around in her seat. “Two hours left, and we should be at the campsite before night.” She said this, grinning at me and turning back to kiss her boyfriend, Nate, on the cheek. Nate, being the protective type, only tagged along with us as he didn’t like the idea of two ‘pretty girls’ camping by themselves in the middle of nowhere. They have only been dating for a few months; he’s the classic teen heartthrob with dazzling eyes and short, dark blonde hair, and Jessica is the overly cute blonde. They were perfect for each other. I smile at the both of them, they were great friends.

“Oh fuck!” Nate is panicking as black smoke starts coming out of the hood. He pulls over to the side of the road, and all of us get out to see what’s wrong. “Can’t it be fixed?” I ask, looking at Nate, worried. His face contorts in disappointment. “I've got no idea, Y/N; cars aren’t my speciality.”

We all look at each other, uncertain of what to do; we’re in the remote countryside without any sort of help. “We might have to walk back if no one drives by.” Nate tells us regretfully: But as soon as he said that, we saw an old blue Ford truck honking and driving up to us.

“You need a hand?” The unknown driver asked Nate. “Yes please! Our van just broke down with smoke coming out.” Nate explained to the man. He nods his head and parks his truck in front of us. The trucks door opens, and out climbs one of the best-looking guys I have ever seen. He wears a black sleeveless top that shows off his muscular arms and a pair of blue denim jeans paired with dirty yellow gloves. He has dark brown hair slicked back with a few strands falling over a scar; my cunt embarrassingly throbbed at the sight of him; I must have gone red in the face as he smirked looking at me. I quickly turned my head to look at Jessica, who was also a little red in the face. It’s not every day you see a hot country boy.

The handsome stranger introduces himself as Johnny Slaughter. “Good to meet you, Johnny. I’m Nate, over there is my girlfriend Jessica and my friend Y/N.” I did a little wave at my name, hoping I wasn’t still blushing. He shakes Nates hand and nods his head to us. “Ladies. Damn, he has a deep voice; it’s making me all hot and bothered. “Alrighty then Nate, pop the hood and let's take a look.”

Johnny stared at the engine, arms pressed against the van, leaning over while shaking his head. “I’m going to have to get my tools for this.” He said, looking over at us. ‘’Ah, shit! That bad?" Nate asked. “Yep, but don’t y’all worry, I’ll get this baby fixed in the morning. For now I can take you guys back to my family’s home, get some food, and sleep?’’ Johnny offered. “Wow, that’s so nice of you, Johnny.’’ Jessica replied, smiling at him, being a little too flirty.

I feel a little uncertain about trusting Johnny, we have only just met him; but he is helping us and I would rather not sleep on the side of the road. Jessica and I nod to Nate in agreement with Johnny’s offer. “Okay, yeah, we’ll go with you.’’ Nate tells him. He smiles, slamming the hood of the van back down, and turns, leading us back to his truck. He opens the back door, and we three slide in. As Johnny hops into the driver's seat, we are greeted by a woman sitting in the passenger seat. Was she here the whole time? “Hi y'all, I’m Sissy.’’ She introduces herself with a wink, but before we could reply, she blows this white powder in our faces. My vision starts to blur as I hear strangled coughing from my friends, and everything quickly goes black.

The next thing I know, I’m waking up tied to a meat hook, covered in dry blood, and desperate for freedom. At that time I had no idea where Jessica and Nate could be, but now as I stare at their lifeless, brutalised corpses, I regret not trying to find them. Jessica's blonde hair is tangled, and her body is covered in slices, with a massive cut on her stomach. Nate's handsome face was shredded up by a chainsaw. They are getting wrapped in a blue tarp, by a larger man with a very human like mask on his face. Johnny takes a drag of his cigarette while holding me, and he shoots me a grin, seeing my legs wobble from the hard fucking I endured. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you? So slutty having an orgasm while your friends get murdered.’’ He taunts quietly in my ear, guilt-tripping me.

“Johnny, why is she still alive?” Asked the small woman who blew white powder in my face. It’s Sissy, I think, trying to remember her name. “This pretty little thing is going to help us cook, clean, and do all the daily chores around the house. We’ve been needing extra hands around the farm since Ma is gone and Drayton busy with the chilli carnivals.’’ He explains to Sissy. She looks at me up and down, smirking. “Oh, I’ve been wantin’ some female company for ages now, and you're so beautiful too! I have these pretty ol’ dresses that would look lovely-,” she didn’t finish her sentence as she’s cut off by Johnny. “That’s enough, Sissy; you can talk to her later; we've got sh*t to do.’’ She rolls her eyes at him but goes to help the larger man.

Johnny pats the larger man on the back, “You did a good job, Bubba.’’ So Bubba is his name. He just lets out these happy groans. So he’s nonverbal?Johnny turns back to me. “Were you listening before? Tomorrow, Sissy will show you how things get done.” With a cig in his mouth, he grabs me again, pulling me out of the slaughterhouse and bringing me to his parked truck. “I’ll cut off the zip-tie when we get back home.’’ He opens the passenger-side door, waiting for me to hop in. He shuts the door after me and flicks away his burned-out cigarette, reaching in his back pocket for another one. Johnny walks away as Sissy plops into the back seat. “Hi again sugar.” She says gleefully behind me.

Johnny and Bubba walk back, carrying each body on their shoulders, I swallow a lump as they chuck the bodies carelessly in the tray. Johnny, with another cigarette in his mouth, gets into the driver's seat, Bubba sits next to Sissy. Johnny chucks his packet of smokes and bloodied gloves from his back pocket onto the dash. He starts up the engine and changes gears, leaving the slaughterhouse behind. The drive is silent except for Sissy’s humming; Bubba stares out of his window while Johnny drives one handed flicking his finished cigarette out the window. I look back to the front, watching the high beam lights brighten up the dark landscape.

We turn onto a long dirt road leading up to a white, two-story house. Johnny parks the truck at the front and helps Bubba unload the bodies. Sissy goes to unlock the front door, leaving me alone. I thought of running when they took the bodies into the house. But I’m still zip-tied, so my chances of escaping now are extremely slim.

Johnny comes back to open my door and yank me out. He roughly drags me inside. I look around and notice a lot of bone decor, similar to the hanging bones in the slaughterhouse. I really hope it’s not human. I’m brought downstairs to a basement, Johnny opens this metal door, it makes a loud awful sound. He takes me to a small prison; Johnny stops to cut off the zip-tie, and I rub my sore wrists, trying to bring the blood to flow back. Johnny pushes me into the room, locking the door. It’s smells disgusting and damp.

“I'll be back to bring ya’ dinner.’’ He leaves upstairs, slamming that awful metal door. I sit down on the dirt floor and bring my knees to my chest. Dried-up cum is all over my thighs, making me feel gross. I started to cry. The last few hours have been horrid. I wish it was just a nightmare. The basement door slides open again. Snivelling, I stand to see who's down here. It’s that large man with the mask, Bubba; he walks over to the end of the basement, where I see Jessica and Nate’s hanging bodies, stomachs sliced open with their organs dropped into a metal tub. My hands shake as I cover my mouth in shock. Oh God! Bubba unhooks Nate and carries him over to a workbench littered with dirty tools. He grabs a hacksaw and begins to dismember Nate. I walk backwards into a corner, sliding down the wall. I started to breakdown. Is he harvesting them? Are these murderers cannibals? God, why did this happen? From sheer exhaustion, I lean my head back and pass out.

“Hey! Wake up!’’ My eyes shot open, searching for the yelling voice. It’s Johnny; he’s holding a white bowl with a spoon. He crouch’s down to my level and hands out the bowl for me to take. I hesitate because I am sceptical of the ingredients. “It’s pot roast; Sissy made it.’’ It does smell delicious, but I don’t wanna eat it. “I’m not hungry,” I told him in defiance. His eye twitches in annoyance, not liking my response. He grabs my hair roughly, craning my neck to stare at him. “Listen, I’m being really fucking nice here, so I ain’t gonna take any disrespect! You may be pretty, but I can easily get another woman who is just a tad more obedient to replace you.’’ His threat worked. I snatched the bowl and dug in, It was tasty. “Good girl.’’ He smiled, patting my head as I ate. He waits until I’m finished and leaves. Did I eat someone? Will I have to eat my friends? I have so many questions but right now the only thing that matters is staying alive. I don’t want to end up like Jessica and Nate.

Sometime later, Johnny comes back to let me out. “Follow me," I obeyed him, leaving the basement and following upstairs. He brings me to a bathroom. It has white broken tiles, a large bathtub with a shower head. He locks the door after I enter and turns the water on, letting it heat up. He throws off his top, giving a new view of his muscular body. I couldn’t help but stare. He has old scars lingering over his body more noticeably on his large pecs, he’s has light definition on his abdomen, and a defined v-cut. His body represents the result of hard work. He smirks at my staring, continuing he unbuckles his jeans, pulling them down. I quickly glance wanting to get a good look at his cock. It’s only semi-hard yet it’s still intimidating, how did it managed to fit inside me?

Johnny doesn’t move as he waits for me to undress. Not wanting to anger him again, I take off my dress, dropping the tattered material. I shiver in my naked form. He gently takes my hand and helps me into the shower. I hiss as the hot water makes my cuts sting. He grabs a plain bar of soap and starts lathering it up and down my body. Enjoying my little gasps as he squeezes my tits and glides his hands everywhere. He swaps us around so he goes under the water, his muscles flex as he relaxes, his head falling back, closing his eyes, while his hands run through his dark hair.

I won’t lie; just the sight of him is turning me on. Shit, why does he have to be so sexy? A murderer shouldn’t be sexy. Startling me out of my thoughts, he grabs my hand that’s holding the soap and moves it to his body, wanting me to wash him. Nervous, I don’t refuse, but I start out slowly around his stomach, leading up to his chest. This small action makes him rock hard. I see it pulse against his lower stomach just above his belly button, I bite my tongue scrubbing his body with both hands, massaging his chest and arms, feeling his muscles. The hot look he gives me sends a throb straight to my core. Water gently running down his handsome face. He brings my right soapy hand down to his cock, tugging it. “Come on baby, jerk my fucking cock.’’ I hesitate for a second, he squeezes my hand hard as a slight warning not to disobey. Wincing, I start to tug at his cock up and down, jerking him off. Groaning, he rocks his hips, shifting them into my hand, following my rhythm. “Good girl, play with my cock, just like that’’ He’s a head taller then me so when he grabs my chin to look at him I have to bend my neck back. “I bet your pussy’s dripping.’’

He swats my hand away and grabs my hips, bringing me in closer under the water so the soap starts rinsing off. He places his fingers below and, feels up my pussy, “I fucking knew it; you're such a needy whore, getting wet from jerking my cock off.’’ I grow shy at his words, wanting to hide my face from embarrassment. Johnny places his hands on the sides of my head and shoves his tongue down my throat. Heavily aroused, I kissed back, holding on to his shoulders. We start making out, our hot tongues wrestling with each other. His strong arms pick me up and shove me against the shower wall. I wrap my legs around his waist for balance while he lines his cock up thrusting it in my cunt without warning. I groan at the sudden intrusion: “Shhh, it’ll only take a second.’’ He says impatiently pounding into me. His hard cock reaches new places, making me moan desperately. The running water muffles the sounds of flesh clapping together. He grips my hips hard as he thrusts upward at a brutal pace. This time only focusing on his own release.

He leans back to watch my chest bounce. “Fuck, I love your tits.’’ He says with admiration as he slows down to suckle on each nipple. His obsession with my breasts is going to be the end of me. I start getting closer again until he stops, suddenly cumming inside me. “Ah,’’ he lets out a little moan as he fills my throbbing cunt. I look at him in disappointment, I was so close to cumming. He grins playful at me. He places me down as we go back to washing, I silently fume as my pussy and clit pulse from neglect.

We dry ourselves, and he puts on new, clean clothes similar to his older ones, but the shirt is blue. He hands me a white summer dress. “One of Sissy’s.’’ He tells me, “any underwear?’’ I question. He just sends an amusing smile and shakes his head. “That's a privilege, sweetheart.’’ Great; it wouldn’t have been bad if the dress wasn’t so short. If I bend over too far, I’ll flash my goods.

Johnny leads away to what seems to be his room. Everything is old and wooden; including a worn-out bed barely big enough for two people. He lays down on it and pats his side, signalling me to sit. I lay down on his bed as he sits up going in between my legs, pushing up my new dress. “I like the easy access.’’ He tells me right before sucking on my swollen clit. “Nnnnh.’’ I moan breathlessly finally having some relief. His two middle fingers slide in and set a steady pace. I spread my legs wider for him, still turned on from the shower fuck. He shoves his tongue flat against my nub, licking it up and down. I push his head further into me, thrusting against his face; this spurs him on as his fingers speed up. I cum on his face, my head thrown back, as my hands grip the sheets tight. I rut into him as he licks up all my juices.

Just when I thought we were done he thrusts his fingers back into me. I try to close my legs and wiggle away from the overstimulation but Johnny forces them open. He lets out a deep chuckle at the tears rolling out my eyes, I clench on his thick fingers as he puts his thumb on my sensitive clit, rubbing it in slow circles. I still hold onto the sheets while lifting up my hips, trying to chase my second release. He hears my needy whines and speeds up, swapping to his other thumb to rub my clit faster while his opposite hand continues finger fucking me. “Fuck, Johnny please don’t stop.’’ I beg him as I cum around his fingers. I gasp at the abruptness of my second orgasm. My legs shake from the intensity. Johnny pulls his hands away from me as I turn to the side, squeezing my legs trying to relieve the sensations.

He casually stands up walking to the desk across the room grabbing a cig, lighting it. Cig in mouth he undresses, getting ready bed. I watch him smoke, flicking the ashes in a tray on the desk. When I finally calm down he’s finished the cigarette, he turns of a lamp comes to lay down behind me, getting comfortable. He wraps one arm around my waist and helps me take of my dress letting it drop to the floor, So both of us now naked. “I'll set up a room for you soon; for now, you’ll stay with me.’’ He speaks softly. I try to get comfortable on the small bed wiggling slightly. “You keep moving like that and I’m going to fuck you again.” He threatens squeezing me tight. I freeze, too sensitive to test his patience.

“Hey Johnny?” I gently whisper his name. The only response I get is snoring, now left with no distractions I go back to my thoughts. I feel guilty knowing I’ve been enjoying Johnny’s company too much, I shouldn’t feel this comfortable with him but the more he cuddles into me the more my eyes feel heavy, I start to fall sound asleep in the arms of a killer.

#johnny slaughter #johnny slaughter x reader #smut #texas chainsaw game #texas chainsaw massacre #fanfiction #tcm fanfic #johnny slaughter fanfic #Texas Chainsaw massacre fanfiction #fanfic

178 notes · View notes

johnny-slaughter-me · 8 months

Text

— “ 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧'. ” | Johnny Slaughter x Female Reader.

Drabble. Reader is Sissy's friend who joins the family. She and Johnny developed a certain friendship.

Notes. English isn't my native language so typos and grammar issues are likely.

Warnings. This fic is nsfw, minors dni please. Canon gore and cannibalism mention, reader is also a cannibalist.

Enjoy. I hope you enjoy the content. Much love, Cherry. 🍒

She dug her nails in his back. Panting heavily as she felt each inch of him trusting in and out of her. "Mmmm Johnny" she moaned, "yeah baby girl? Like that? Hmmm?" He replied. Her constant moans told him she did and so he kept going in and out of her, trying to catch his breath in the process. He kept on going until he finally released all of his pleasure inside her.

He first met her last year when Sissy returned home. Y/N was a friend of Sissy's whom she met in one of the cultes she'd joined. With nowhere to go Sissy invited her to join the family. It was a surprise to everyone when Y/N and Sissy came home. But she was easily welcomed, helping around and loring victims in only to turn them into lunch. She wasn't that different from them, and Johnny couldn't help but enjoy the new addition. She excited him. Y/N couldn't ignore Johnny either. "Heya sis, you never told me you had such a greek god as a brother." You told Sissy whilst the both of you were preparing some poison to use later. She just looked at you and gave you a friendly eye roll. "He's an asshole but you can have him if you want, just be careful he is a mama's boy, and Nancy doesn't like it when her boy does anything other then murder- I mean hunting." Sissy told you and you both giggled.

Johnny started to surround himself near you and you never declined. As time went by you and him would sneak around, needing each other. He had fucked you in his shed, in his truck, and his bed. Sissy knew and didn't care but you both tried to hide it from the rest of his family. Cook has been the first one (excluding Sissy), to catch on to it. "So funny thing ya, I was listen for some victims when I heard Johnny loving the new girl a lil' too much!" Cook complained during dinner that night. You nearly choked on your food but to your surprise, Johnny simply said: "well damn old man, you heard right! And she loved every second of it."

#Cherry Writes 🍒#Johnny Slaughter #Johnny Slaughter Smut #Johnny Slaughter x Reader #Johnny Slaughter x Female Reader

163 notes · View notes

whatitshouldvebeen · 5 months

Note

Speaking of asks though I’d love to request a Johnny fic where the reader is completely aware that she’s being manipulated, and that nothing but bad will come of associating with Johnny. Except her saviour complex gets the better of her, and not wanting to waste the amount of effort she’s already put into the relationship, she pushes on with the mindset that she can be the one to change something inside him, only to be completely wrong and at his mercy, regretting the fact she ever thought of this man as fixable.

Johnny is of course making fun of her the entire time, finding her perception of him completely out of touch and naive, shaming and humiliating her. You can definitely make it smutty too should you want. 😳

Curiosity Killed the Bunny

Johnny Slaughter x you

Contains: degradation, no y/n, gaslighting

Sorry for taking so long on this one, I had an idea for it forever ago but I had to wait for them to release Johnny's Shack so I didn't get to it until now, I hope it was worth the wait 😈

••••

“Always knew you were a lil ditzy. Didn't think you were full-on stupid, though,” Johnny teased, grinning down at you. Your wrists were in one of his hands as he pressed you against the beverage fridge in the ‘Last Chance’ gas station. Drayton Sawyer cleaned the countertop, trying his best not to look curious.

“I just wanted to see where you worked!” You protested, trying to keep your voice low to keep from drawing attention. You had secretly followed Johnny here after he'd spent the night at your place.

But the moment you walked into the gas station, Johnny cornered you, as if he’d known you were following him all along.

“Told ya not to worry about my job, sugar,” he leaned in, his lips inches from yours. “Now you're really in for it.”

“Johnny,” you breathed in his exhale, cigarettes and iron. “Is something wrong? Let me help you.”

You knew there were plenty of things wrong with Johnny; how manipulative he was, his secretive nature, and that he was struggling to commit. But something told you not to give up. Someday, there would be a breakthrough.

You could still save him.

Johnny had left your house this morning with his mind elsewhere. He barely kissed you before he left to who knows where. You'd had enough with the secrets.

“Dumb little bunny. You can't do shit to help me. Best you manage is addin’ to my problems,” he said, sneering.

Your brow furrowed, the urge to protest growing stronger. “You've barely tried to trust me! Six months and I've never even seen where you live!”

A trucker stared at you two from across the gas station, quickly averting his eyes when Johnny glared over his shoulder.

Johnny turned back to you, drawing even closer, his grip on your wrists tightening. “You wanna see where I live, hm? Well, I guess I don't got a choice but to show you now, do I?”

Your next batch of complaints died in your throat. “W-wait, you mean it? I can see your home?”

“Now that Uncle Drayton has seen you, he'd think it were improper if I didn't.” He tilted his head, his smirk growing.

You wondered why Drayton would want you to go home with Johnny, but you were too elated to worry about logistics.

Johnny released your sore wrists and took you by the waist, leading you back to his truck.

Finally! Was this the breakthrough you'd been waiting for? Was Johnny finally opening up? You didn't want to get too ahead of yourself, but you felt proud as you hopped in his truck, and he took off down the dirt road.

It only took fifteen minutes before you pulled up the long gated driveway lined with sunflowers toward a beautiful home.

“Wow, Johnny! Your home is beautiful,” you said cheerily, holding his hand over the console.

He mumbled a response and continued down the drive, stopping outside of a brown shed with bull horns hung over the doorway.

Johnny turned the truck, which rumbled to a standstill, and then opened your passenger door, helping you down to the gravel.

Much to your surprise, he headed for the shed and opened the door, waiting for you.

“Oh,” you tried to hide your flustered expression, feeling stupid. Johnny laughed and smacked your ass as you entered his shed.

“Thought my ma's place was mine? Ya really are a dumb little bunny, ain't you?” He chided.

“Sorry, I just-” you trailed off, your eyes flitting around the shed. A ratty couch covered in beer bottles and empty cigarette boxes, a kitchen piled high with unwashed dishes, and far too many freezers greeted you.

Johnny's fingers caught your chin, pulling your attention to him.

“You’ll have plenty of time to look around later.” His hand trailed down your chin to your neck with a loose grip. He kept drinking you in, an inkling of regret in his eyes.

“You just had to stick your nose where it don't belong,” he said under his breath, his dark gaze intense.

“I just wanna help you, Johnny. If you'd let me see your place earlier, I coulda kept it clean for you.”

“You will, Bunny. You'll keep it nice and clean for me. And you'll make my dinner. And clean my clothes,” he said, smiling. But his smile was… off.

“Do you want me to move in?” You asked.

“In a sense,” he said.

“Why are you lookin’ at me like that, Johnny?” You asked nervously.

“Cause I'm tryin’ to figure how you stay alive with so little brain function.”

You flushed with embarrassment. “You don't need to be so rude,” you said, averting your eyes.

“Will it make things more clear if I do this?” Johnny let go of your chin and walked over to the front door. He proceeded to lock three locks, and then padlock the final one, draping the key around his neck by a silver chain.

“Is there something dangerous outside?” You asked, your eyes growing large.

Johnny barked a laugh. “Sort of. You see, my uncle Drayton don't take well to me keeping girls around. My ma neither.”

He saunters back over to you. “I was doing well keepin’ you a secret, but well, now that Drayton has seen me with you, he'll be wanting meat.”

“What?” You asked, your throat running dry.

“My uncle Drayton is famous for his BBQ. And for good reason. After all, he uses the freshest meat,” he said, coming to a stop in front of you. You were still standing by the wall beside the front door, which he pressed you against.

“What does that have to do with me?” You asked anxiously.

“Young, supple little bunnies got the most tender, sweet meat,” Johnny purred. “Just can't get enough of it. I keep hunting down naïve little rabbits, and he cooks ‘em up and sells ‘em at the station.”

“Rabbits? You're talking about rabbits, right?” You asked.

“Ditzy little bunny. I could scoop out half your brain and you might be better off.” He gripped your ass, pulling you against him. “You're the meat. Or you should be. I tried to keep you out of it honey, but you just had to get curious.”

“Drayton eats people?” You squeaked, horrified. “Wait, he feeds people to people?!”

“Mmhm. I catch ‘em, we butcher ‘em, Drayton cooks ‘em. Nice lil system we got goin’. And you should be next on the table.”

You gasped, all the blood draining from your face.

“But don't worry, sugar. Johnny won't let that happen. The moment you walked into the gas station, I hid your face from Drayton. All’s I gotta do is find another girl who looks like you to take your place.”

“This can't be happening,” you groaned, feeling sick to your stomach.

“Hey, hey now,” Johnny soothed, caressing your clammy cheek. “I got you, bunny. As long as you stay nice n’ quiet and don't leave home, I can keep you alive.”

“I c-can't leave?” You asked, your lip trembling.

“If my ma sees you, she'll kill ya herself. Na, it's better ‘f you stay right here.”

“I'm gonna be sick,” you said, pushing him aside and running to the sink. Your vomit coated the old pots and dishes, adding to the already rancid smell.

“Now, bunny,” Johnny said as he placed his hands on your hips, “remember this is all because you didn't listen to Johnny. Because you thought your dumb little fantasy of saving the bad boy was gonna come true.”

You whimpered, your entire body trembling as you dry heaved again.

“Now, I'm gonna be the one saving you, baby girl. All you gotta do is behave, and be a good girl for me. Can you do that?”

You stared at the vomit-coated sink and wondered if the rancid meat in the pan swarmed with maggots was human.

Johnny spun you around, pressing you against the disgusting sink.

“I said, can you be good for me?”

You shook in place, terrified and frozen.

Johnny slapped the dumb expression off your face, replacing it with one of anguish as you fell to the floor, hitting your head on one of the cabinet knobs beneath the sink.

“Answer me, dumb little bunny,” he snarled, kneeling down and forcing your gaze up to his by gripping your hair.

“Yes! I c-c-can! Please stop!” You sobbed, cradling your cheek.

A malicious smile unfurled on Johnny's face.

“I Caught and killed plenty of pets before, but never kept one,” he said. “I promise I'll try my best to take care of you, baby. Keep you bright-eyed and bushy-tailed,” he said happily.

You couldn't hear him, your ears were ringing so loudly. And still somewhere in your dumb little bunny brain, a little voice shouted- “I can still fix him!”

#johnny slaughter #tcm game #texas chainsaw massacre #johnny slaughter x reader #johnny sawyer #texas chainsaw massacre game #tcm #texas chainsaw game

97 notes · View notes

clarks-letterman · 2 months

Note

What about the reader is terrified of spiders, so when johnny corners them, they back into a wall where there's webs and spiders. They freak out, preferring to jump into the arms of a killer than have spiders on them.

Id love to know how johnny would react, if he'd be surprised and try to talk them through their fear or would torture them by making them touch the webs. (This would definitely be me because im terrified of spiders 😅😅)

johnny slaughter x gender neutral!reader

a/n — IM SCARED OF THEM TOO. FUCK GODS GREEN EARTH NO ONE WOULD EVER WILLINGLY MAKE THOSE FREAKs. (but bees scare me more and I injected just a tad of that in here too cause they can FLY. ohhhhh if spiders could fly too it'd be over for me😭) btw let me know if Johnny needs to be written differently, I'm still getting used to writing a southern character since I usually write characters with transatlantic accents and dialect and alll!

summary — check the ask! basically the same, I just tried to make Johnny somewhere in the middle between mean and comforting + ambitious ending to the best I could

warnings — implied harm, mentions of blood (it's really tame)

word count — 2k

~~~ story under the cut!

You had to get out of this place. You didn’t know what this was, all you knew was that you were underground, trapped in a maze with psychos trying their hardest to get you. Screams came above as well as below, where you were. It was dark in some areas and barely lit in others, letting you know that there must have been a way up. There was a guy with a freaking chainsaw! But worst of all, there were spiders. Everywhere. They rappelled down from the rusty light fixtures and sheets of metal tinning the roof of each tunnel with a thin glistening string that you had to be mindful of to avoid. The blood on your face was no match for a spider coming into contact with it, or any part of your body for that matter. You couldn’t count how many times you had walked right into one moving itself down a line of silk. In every crevice and crack, in all the hiding spots, and even weaving little webs between each rickety step leading up from the basement.

The place was already confusing enough as is, but when you reached the top step—where the high Texas sun met the line of darkness enshrouding the basement—you knew you were in the clear from those eight-legged freaks. Now, you just had to deal with the ones with two legs, buzzing around like worker bees trying to get their sweet, sweet blood-red honey.

The start of it was easy—their footsteps strong and heavy and the creaking of the floorboards gave away their positions, so you knew what rooms to avoid in their farmhouse. One guy was too busy setting up traps around the various places you could squeeze yourself through, and the blonde girl a few feet away from him was waiting to “add a little something” as she put it. You didn’t want to stick around to find out what she meant, so you found freedom through an unlocked door at the back of the house. Their front yard was a mess of old cars and fencing found on farms in the area—you had driven by enough when traveling to Newt to recognize them. They were used for cattle, but their purpose here was to keep people in with its complex layout, and you were almost out of the dilapidated mess.

Down along the path was a shack with what you hoped would be more supplies. Something like another thin object to slide into the various padlocks these freaks had installed, or something sharp to defend yourself with. Whatever it was, it just had to be something useful. You did your best not to get spotted, keeping away from the beaten path by ducking into the tall grass for most of your walk down to the shack. The first door you noticed on the exterior was unlocked and opened with ease like they weren’t trying to protect the things inside—or stop anyone from leaving. But everything looked to be personal on the inside, intimately lived in with a mess of wrappers and laundry and dirty dishes crowding up such a small space. He was a worker bee with no time for himself.

And just like that, you could hear his buzzing in the form of footsteps from outside. You moved to hide behind the side of his couch, crouching and hoping that it covered enough of your figure to make it seem like you weren’t there. His boots were heavy on the ground outside and heavier on the wood floor. He had little care for the door, slamming it open with a loud bang. Maybe he would do a quick sweep around the room and leave, but the words uttered under his breath proved you wrong. “They’re always so careless…”

He must have been tracking you, and you wondered for how long. Maybe that’s why it had been so easy to get down to this place—he wanted you to come here. While you were hidden behind his couch, you took the brief opportunity to map the area out. Everything was either too big or too risky to run for if you wanted to fight back, but there was a slit in the wall furthest from you. It looked like a piece of it had fallen off, creating the perfect diffusion in the house’s cracks for your escape. The only thing now was deciding when to run, when to risk it all, and expose yourself for a brief moment before you slipped through the little mousehole.

But that never happened. Your window of opportunity escaped faster than you when you entered this building because the man’s footsteps were steady, straight, and determined. He didn’t miss a single beat and rounded his couch in seconds upon entering the place. You could see his fingers tooling with the knife in his hands, preparing to keep a firm grip on it as he slashed and sliced. He went for his first swing, missing as you stood up and made a dash for the slit in the wall. You still intended on running, even if he had already found you.

“You thought you could hide in my stink? When this is all over, I’ll add that pretty face of yours to the collection.” The voice sounded painfully close to you, and you could feel the swish of air as he swung again with his knife. He didn’t land the hit but in your attempt to dodge it, you moved too far to one side and came into contact with the wall to your left. Your exit was so close, but he closed in on you, making it impossible to reach unless you intended to overpower the man with sheer strength alone.

With your back pressed flat against the wall, you had no choice but to accept what was going to come to you. That was until you felt a sensation along your neck and arms. It was this light, almost invisible touch but you knew it all too well. Just one strand of it needed to ghost your skin, and the rest of your body would light up with fear—thinking that the silky sensation of a spider’s web was all over you. It was irrational, but also completely sane. Those eight-legged freaks were quick to weave webs and they could be crawling all over you right now! You couldn’t stand the thought of one being on you or near you, let alone multiple. In your panic, you moved away from the wall and towards the man in front of you. Who cares if he had a knife and a murderous intent? Those spiders had eight legs, were probably poisonous, and would bite you the first chance they got, at least this guy would only do one of those when you were in his arms. Your arms were between your body and his, feeling the reassurance of the fabric of his tattered black tank. He seemed to be happy by the outcome of your reaction, but he didn’t know what caused it other than his own ego.

“Good, you’re makin’ this easy for me. I’ll be nice and make it hurt a little less.” He laughed, sounding delighted before it faded into something sinister. He spoke again but with a gruff tone, then confusion followed, “Playtime—huh?”

Johnny noticed that you weren’t looking at him with pleading eyes. The begging he was used to hearing, the same kind he would chuckle and grin at before turning those cries into screams never came. Instead, your head was turned back to look at the decently sized web spun up against the wall. It filled out the entire corner and it was almost impossible to not touch it when he backed you into that part of his shack.

“The hell is your problem?” He asked, “Do those things bother ya?”

You nodded your head. When you did look back towards him, he was met with a frustrated look with outlines of fear twisting your face and twinging your voice. “Why haven’t you killed that thing?”

“He ain’t hurtin’ nobody!” Johnny defended himself. “I like to think that me and him have a… a similar connection and he eats the mosquitoes takin’ all the blood form ya that I want to drain, but I’ll get rid of ‘em if it means you’ll get your priorities straight.”

Johnny wasted no time moving around you and getting to work on the spider’s web. This was your chance to run, the hole in the wall just a few feet away as you backed up to give him some room. But you didn’t go anywhere, you stood and watched as he tooled his knife in circles, spindling it until roughly half of his blade was covered in a spool of cobwebs with a few spiders too stunned to move resting on it.

He turned back around, holding the blade close enough to himself that it was making you uncomfortable just seeing it. You imagined them crawling under his gloves, laying eggs, and hatching a million spider babies in the few seconds they were under there, and then a flurry would crawl out from underneath and create a sleeve of themselves over his arm.

“Could you… get rid of it?” You asked, wincing at the sight of the spiders. They weren’t even moving—but maybe they were preparing to jump like some of them do.

Johnny was fed up by this point. He started to feel as if he had gone after the worst of the victims by tracking you. “Aw hell, that thing is more scared of you than you are of it!”

“I just… hate them,” you shuddered. Your eyes darted up to his face, taking solace in that as it was a much better sight than the wiry spiders he was handling. You tried to think of something else to, and you ended up saying something smart back to the unreadable stranger. “And your knife won’t be much use if you can’t, uh, stab me.”

You could hear him complaining to himself as he brushed past you, “I should make you lick this for giving me trouble.”

But he never did. He marched right outside, making sure you followed close behind him with a wave of his covered hand. It gave you a second to think while he was distracted. Why was he being so nice? He was part of the same group that had you strung up by the arms hours ago, and now he was clearing his place of the spiders—which, he would have a lot of work to do if you were to stay here. The sheer number of them would make you call an exterminator for the entire state of Texas; this place felt like their central hive. Your thoughts were interrupted when you stepped outside, and you two stood on the flattened dirt path leading back up to the house you had just escaped from. Johnny had stopped, turning back to point the blade at your face.

“See?” He said, bringing the blade closer to you. He got a kick out of seeing you squirm, but you had an underlying trust that he wouldn’t do anything too impulsive like throwing it at you. “Didn’t move an inch.”

He bent down, kneeling to keep himself steady as he pinched the part of his knife where the silvery steel met the molded handle and, with one clean sweep, wiped the spiders and their webs clean off onto the ground. He stood back up and pressed his boot down into the dirt. You watched with your own eyes as the spiders were obliterated into nothing but mangled remains. For extra insurance, he swiped the blade of his knife across his jean-clad thigh to make sure it was clean. Then, he turned back to you with a proud look on his face.

“There we go.” He trailed off, his eyes darkening at the realization that all of your attention was back on him. “Now, where were we…?”

#x reader #x male reader #johnny slaughter #johnny tcm #texas chainsaw massacre game #johnny slaughter x reader #johnny slaughter x you #johnny slaughter x male reader #johnny slaughter x gn!reader #x gender neutral reader #johnny slaughter x gender neutral reader #johnny slaughter x y/n #x y/n #x you #fanfic #tw spiders #spider tw #arachnophobia tw

75 notes · View notes

melodrama-ticcc · 6 months

Text

— “ 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐥 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 ” ; 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐕𝐈

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞

𝘈 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴.

𝙃𝙚𝙧 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙠 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙩 𝙞𝙩.

𝘈 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘛𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘩 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺’𝘷𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘥.

𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙫. 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧. 𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙩 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧.

ʷᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ: ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃⁱⁿˢ ᵐᵃᵗᵘʳᵉ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉⁿᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉᵐᵉˢ. ⁱ.ᵉ. ᵈᵒᵐᵉˢᵗⁱᶜ ᵛⁱᵒˡᵉⁿᶜᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃᵇᵘˢᵉ, ᵍʳᵃᵖʰⁱᶜ ᵛⁱᵒˡᵉⁿᶜᵉ, ᵐᵉⁿᵗᵃˡ ⁱˡˡⁿᵉˢˢ, ᵐᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵒᶠ ᵐᵘʳᵈᵉʳ, ᵐⁱˡᵈ ᵍᵒʳᵉ, ʳᵉˡⁱᵍⁱᵒⁿ, ˢᵉˣᵘᵃˡ ᵗʰᵉᵐᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢⁱᵗᵘᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ.

—

When Rebecca was only eight years old her mother sat her down, struck her across the face and handed her a brand new doll; her only instruction being to ‘sit down, shut up and stay out of my sight.’ With the stinging red imprint of a hand across her cheek and tears welled in her eyes she watched as her mother flounced down the hall to rejoin her estranged lover. Only for the discordant slam of the bedroom door to echo through the home and into the child’s ears, leaving her sat with the doll still in its box planted in her lap.

It’s hair is blonde like her own, eyes a pretty blue too. The paint virgin and pristine; it’s done up in vibrant and glamorous makeup. Adorned in a cute little gingham dress and a matching bow. It’s curious how her eyes light up in awe and her lips form an innocent smile. Heart-wrenching surely, how she hugs tight the box in her arms and clutches the package against her small frame as though it were the only thing that would ever evoke such a pure, sweet smile.

The warm tears that once gathered at the cusp of her lashes drip down her cheeks when she squints shut her eyes. She cuddles the box as though it were a plush, nuzzling her head against its top as she sought the comfort such a foreign thing brought to her.

When her sadness had been quelled and the happiness the doll instilled in her took over, she pulled away from the box to examine the toy in its entirety. A delighted giggle befalls her smile as she excitedly begins her attempts to open the thing. Her small, fragile fingers prying open the plastic wrapped cardboard to gain access to her precious new doll. The toughness of the packaging tears at her delicate skin and she gasps, pulling away her hand as she inspects it closely. When she determines there is nothing to fret over she contently hops to her feet, eagerly making her way to the kitchen to fetch a blade.

However like all children must learn, it isn’t safe to play with sharp objects.

In her guileless little brain the idea seemed harmless enough. Use something sharp to cut open that which she couldn’t. Just like she’d seen daddy do with the pocket knife all those times splitting hay bales out in the fields. She mimics that act. Sliding the sharp edge of the knife beneath the plastic tape that lines the box, the girl steadies her grip atop the thing and pulls upwards, cutting through the damned tape but also into the tip of her finger. With a shrill cry she drops both the knife and the doll, staring wide-eyed at the blood that oozes from the sliced fingertip.

She cries because it hurts, the pain much more than a little one that age can bare. Frightened and scared, she scurries down the hall to the closed door of her mother’s quarters. Tears spill down her stained cheeks and her face turns bright red, mouth whirring as she desperately attempts to keep it shut. That is, to avoid a corporeal scolding from her mother. Muffled sobs and whines of affliction dance off the walls and back into her ears. She wails for her mother, her father, for help, for anyone, as the blood drips to the wood floors to paint it crimson.

It seems that when the air becomes deadly still and her helpless hyperventilations cease, for but a moment, she can distinguish the lewd moans that come from beyond that door. The vulgarity of it all is innocuous in a little girl’s mind, and despite her mother’s wishes the severity of the matter seemed more prevalent than what she could not understand. So, she reaches for the doorknob. Contemplating the possibility of a second beating, her hurt gets the best of her and she decidedly rotates the knob. It seems to turn in slow motion, her stifled whimpers and convulsing breaths quieting in the suspenseful act. Suddenly fear far outweighs the perceived pain, and just as she becomes regretful of her decision the door swings open to reveal what she can only assume is her mother beneath a man in her father’s place.

She doesn’t move, only stands there sniveling. Holding out the gushing finger as she cries out for her mother. Through the smutty sounds of voyeuristic phrases and libidinous mewls she struggles to grasp the attention of her lecherous mother. Shaking, she toils to stop the bleeding that continues to pour from her wounded fingertip. But the longer she stands there, weeping, the more the pain dissipates and the reality of what surrounds her comes crashing down. Her mother doesn’t so much as glance at her; she doesn’t care. She’d much rather get all fucked out than pay attention to her poor little girl. That epiphany hurts most of all, so she cries harder, legs going limp as she collapses to the floor in a panic-stricken heap. She screams something ugly, snot spurting out her tiny nose and hot-tears searing her burning red cheeks. Her long lashes coagulate together as she winces her eyes shut, head bobbing up in the air as she transmutes to incoherence.

The vigorous resound of the wooden bed frame creaking too and fro gradually becomes much more potent, it being the only thing that fills her senses and clouds her mind. She might be young but she knows the man shouldn’t be there, that he was a man in her father’s place. That only makes matters worse, and the surrealism of it all makes it something she won’t soon forget. When she opens her eyes and the wet dissolves from her vision she’s left to stare at the face of the man who elicits such lustrous sounds from her mother. Only it isn’t that same man she’d come to know as Matthias, and the face that turns its head to look back at her is a face much more recently familiar than she would have liked.

There was no mistaking those cataclysmic eyes or that long slick hair. They look to her with with a direful motive, those dark strands of inky locks falling forward and into his face as he prods into her mother with a divine purpose. With each thrust of his hips he grunts, her mother sings and the bed croaks. Her morose screams become silent in the wake of such unchaste moments. Eyes wide in fear at who looks back at her. That defined scar that draws itself over his left eye and down his cheek is a defining feature, and when he looks back to her that shit-eating smirk sends her over the brink of sanity. Johnny’s strong, scar-littered arms prop himself up, his muscular back arching over that who he makes love to. Scratches and bruises cover his back, scars of past histories evident in the dim light. His focus goes back to the woman beneath him, only it isn’t her mother as it had once been.

Those blonde ringlets are irrefutable, messily folded about the pillowcase as her head throws back in blatant pleasure. Her back is arched into the cotton sheets and face contorted in a congenial display of affections. As the woman gasps, her brows screw up and those sapphire eyes flash open to reveal the cutthroat face of what she can only perceive as herself.

Her eyes open and her body shoots up from where it slumbers, eyes wide and face washed pale as though she’d just seen a ghost. Rebecca clutches at her chest, hair astray as she breathes heavily. The faint sound of mockingbirds chirping a sweet song can be heard from just outside the window, and as the sun rises it’s rays peak through the small opening in the curtains. When the realization becomes her and it is known to be nothing more than a dream, she settles. Her body relaxes from its tense state and eases back into the plush of the pillows.

She hadn’t thought about that memory in some time, what kind of mother does such a trashy thing? She could never wrap her head around it, not even now. She’d never understand why some tramp was more important than the relationship with her husband or caring for her child. That was the day Becca realized her mother didn’t actually care about her, that she was nothing but a nuisance to the woman. Of course, she’d chose to block that from her memory, her stubbornness making the denial much more difficult to get through. After years of convincing herself it was the opposite, she made herself delusional with whatever she wanted to believe; that her mother was a saint that tended to her every need. Deep down though, she knew that woman was a no good slut.

The scene disquiets her. The cursed image of Johnny hovering over her nude body in such an explicit act both terrifies and invigorates her. Her intellect tells her she should be disgusted or repulsed, petrified by the thought of him ravaging her in such an crass way. But the arousal that burgeons in the pit of her stomach tells her otherwise, as does the racing beat of her heart. She is both alarmed and enticed, so she finds it in her best interest to bury the memory deep within her.

Something about him is so undeniably haunting. Attractive and well-proportioned, his imposing appearance is one intertwined with both strength and mystery. With an uncanny eeriness about him, his enigmatic nature is imbedded within those gloaming eyes. Thick and dark lashes swathe those hooded tenebrous orbs. His veneer is effortlessly beautiful, a strong jaw enough to make any woman feel weak in the knees. His staunch determination is evident in those fervid brows and the way they taper downward to demonstrate his intense personality. His rugged, brawny body is lean and agile, and those scars only further antagonize his austere persona.

Screw Johnny Sawyer and his stupid good looks.

In a flustered plight she tosses the duvet and white linens off of herself, swinging out of bed as she marches toward the window and flings open the drapes. The early morning sunshine flares in through the far off skyline, a sheen of golden luminosity gleaming into her sparkly ultramarine lenses. The bright blue glimmers in the light of that rising sun, a stark contrast to her glum state.

And that was just it, she was in fact glum. Gloomy and distressed, confused, and most especially flustered.

It had been a few days since Rebecca had last seen any trace of Johnny, not since he’d dropped her off on the front steps of her porch and proclaimed how wild she drove him. The juncture replays itself in her head like a film reel, over and over again, without clemency. Sending a disgustingly violent shiver through her body. She hasn’t been able to rid herself of the thought of his tantalizing words, full of such throbbing tension and tease. Leaving her wanting more from him. His words stuck like glue and so prevalently made themselves known at the forefront of her mind, tickling at her thoughts more frequently than she’d liked. They were filled with such promise, genuine affection that made her feel as though she were the only girl in the world, the only one worthy of his keen eye. But while her instincts tell her no, that it was exactly what he wanted and she was falling for his trap, she knew all too well the truth riddled in his eyes. She could read him like an open book the same way he did her. He couldn’t manipulate a manipulator. Even Johnny knew that. So, tormented by the prospect of his flagrant demonstration of admiration, the few days staggeringly becomes a week, and a week two, with not so much as a glance of him.

Had she done something wrong, scared him off in some way?

No, that was stupid. She couldn’t give two shits about that. She still hated him.

But then, why hadn’t he returned to pester her? Like he always did before. Or inquire about the aftermath of their night out?

Since that supposed date there was nothing but static, not even the slightest inclination of Johnny’s seething presence. It was through his absence that Rebecca discovered the unfathomable; a pressing and unrelenting urgency to see him once more. Unsurprisingly it had vexed her that he’d been such a gentleman on their night out, only to carelessly remove himself from her to conclude. She’d expected this, in fact, that wasn’t the part that bothered her the most. It only strengthened her simmering animosity.

For the time they were apart the Johnny dilemma was the only thing that bedeviled her thoughts. At first she thought this was another one of his antics, a method of getting her all bent out of shape and riled up. She thought he was aiming to get her to act out as per his usual, even thought it might of been a way of getting her to fall for him. Then her thoughts became more visceral. She was scared that she’d frightened him off or off-put him in some way. That lingering paranoia often became too much for her, and she would overthink and complicate every possible reason and outcome. Was he trying to get her to come back to him herself? Trying to get her to lash out? Was he finished with her then? Leaving her alone? Was he angry or upset with her? Did she say something she shouldn’t have? Maybe he was just no longer interested in her, no, that meant she’d done something to deter him. But she didn’t care about that, that was moronic, she didn’t like him she loathed him. But ultimately; it only angered her worse. And she’d continue to bounce between a recalcitrant rage and a profound panic.

When she couldn’t control her thoughts she couldn’t control her actions, and by that extent the things that surrounded her. Maybe this was his plan all along, to tear down her peace of mind and solitude. The sporadic nature of her pathos made her a catastrophic walking disaster. And with the fading feeling of her own grip she went mad, freaking out about the littlest of things and still unwavering of her solicitude for Johnny and the notions his actions implicated. It was those thoughts that drove her into a state of desperation and lunacy, and he had been the cause of those thoughts. So with the fervent emotions that coarse through her there is an abundance of wrath that come with it.

It radiates off of her in laden waves, the unbearable sensation felt from a great distance. Hot and heavy feelings of feral anger and turbulent resentment. The delinquency of her unbridled rage surpasses that of anything she’s ever felt before. She even thinks she might despise him more than she does her mother and her tool of a paramour. She is foreign to the complicated emotions he evokes from her. Perpetually bouncing from that long-standing narrative of vehement loathing to the newly acquired perfervid adulation. Rebecca is no longer in charge of her own affairs and it only worsens her feelings of antipathy. The fleeting phenomenon of the jurisdiction over her own inclinations is enough to drive her past the point of no return. It is an itch that needs scratching, an infestation of her peace and solitude. There it is, that lost sense of control. And the unrelenting tremors that come with it.

Why must she feel such a way? Where she can no longer differentiate between the need to kill him and the desire to fall victim to his pretty charms. Like magnets the instincts push and pull with their negative and positive charges. Never quite meeting in the middle, never going where she wants them to go. That missing sense of stable ground would eat at her incessantly, and at the same time his calming demeanor quells the acute aggravation in her head.

But more than anything she is acrimonious of this newfound impasse. Inimical over the verity that he had forsaken her with and the catalyzed influx of emotions she felt. Her vitriol is festering and rearing it’s all time high. Episodes of mania become much more frequent even without his presence, and all so slowly, painstakingly laggardly, she can feel herself loosing her way. She’s sure it’s all his fault. Convinced he is the reason the intermittent flukes of both flagrant belligerence and vacillating reverence are driving her battier. Determined that he was causation for all her demented emotions and loss of self maintenance.

She doesn’t know what to do with herself. She cannot bare to face the convoluted reality of her inner turmoil or the blossoming feelings that had been birthed within her. Acknowledging them meant acknowledging her lost footing and forfeiting her control, and she couldn’t fathom the possibility. To snuff the ephemeral stewardship she busies herself with the housework, remaining cooped up in the farmhouse in hopes of brainwashing herself of Johnny and his charismatic persona while her father worked diligently out in the fields prepping to take in cattle.

When her mind wasn’t preoccupied with the daily chores she bestowed upon herself, she was huddled into a pulsating ball. Slender fingers intertwined into her silky hair as she grasped and pulled and writhed. Her eyes would strain wide and her arms would ensnare her throbbing head. Silent tears would drip down her face as she babbled disjointed nothings and ballads of nonsense in a desperate attempt to quiet her looming fear. It wavered and teased above her head, and nothing, not even her perfect little life would shake the lingering feeling of overwhelming emotion. She’d sit there for hours, shaking profusely until the feeling became numb enough for her to carry on with her activities. It would happen once a day, then twice, and then more than she could bare to count. A gradual progression of lost conviction. The more frequently they prevailed, the more control she immolated. Until she wavered on the brink of there being nothing left to give.

Her world was tumbling down around her, like a castle crumbling down upon itself. The perfect little picture she worked so diligently to create was faltering upon a faulty foundation, breaking apart all at once. She felt as though she was falling down a never-ending hole in which she constantly feared the landing, only it never came, so the feeling of distress became worse and worse with each passing moment.

Perhaps Rebecca had never been bewitched by such unwarranted emotions. The subject foreign and the feeling most uncomfortable. Sure, her unfamiliarity with the phenomena certainly made her feel a little queasy. But the presumption it carried was the real perpetrator.

Emotions, what a pernicious affair.

She’d never expected the thing that arrested her control to be something so petty and frivolous. Ah, but then again, hadn’t her anger ceased it several times before?

No. That was Johnny’s doing. Just like this was.

Somewhere in there the hunger for malignancy and sanguinity grew ten fold, a barbaric surrogate to what she was losing. Only her urge for bloodshed was no longer solely pinned on Johnny, in fact she craved more to kill those who were strangers to her. Those who were unaware of her lack of civility, those she hadn’t cared to garner the approval of, those she didn’t need to impress. Strangers who were disposable to her, whom she didn’t care about. Strangers who were men that inflicted damage like Johnny and Matthias did. Men who preyed on pretty girls and thought so highly of themselves. Men who only wanted to have sex and dump girls on the street the very next day. There she’d find the control she sought, over their mutilated and lifeless body as she stood over them drenched in their blood. That, and the ecstasy the brutal act would elicit from her core. Rebecca was so keen on the idea; she was sure it would grant that thing she craved so much.

Ever since the night she’d seen Sisters at the drive in, something had awakened in her. Call it a new found inspiration, but the vividly dark and murderous beauty in witnessing another woman kill men for her own gratification and vengeance had sparked something within. It was no longer just a thought, it was something Becca saw herself doing. It blurred the lines between what was reality and fiction.

She had dreams of it, wild fantasies where she’d hack up the bodies of unsuspecting young men. Liquidating them while they were still young. Let them think they were getting what they wanted and just as they’d take their pants off she’d take the axe to their torso. Bloodthirsty and homicidal imagery that made her legs feel weak and her insides tingly. But of course it was only an idea.

However Rebecca couldn’t do away with that idea. The desirable idea of killing men who didn’t matter to her, one’s the world would be much better off without. She could confiscate the control they had over her and wield it as her own, and when she killed one she would go on and find another. Fulfilling her innermost covets and regaining the very thing she felt she’d lost. She’d lost it one way and would supplement it with another.

He was there sometimes too, watching from the outskirts and offering his nonverbal approval in the form of the slight nod of his head. His brawny arms crossed over his chest.

It was just a silly dream.

Through and through, she was certain he was at fault for it all. Her deprecation simmered in the days spent tormented by her own addlepated mind. Simultaneously juggling the creeping emergence of her newfound infatuation. It would continue to pester her that he was nowhere to be seen, and that he had so casually and selfishly treated her so perfectly and then left her all alone. It was respectful in some ways, he must’ve considered the fact that she’d never really been akin to him before. But that never stopped him before, and it seemed to be in line with this game of his. She was convinced this was his way of getting her to crawl to him in a pathetic state of desperation, begging for him at his feet. She wouldn’t cave and go see him, but she was going to be sure to chew his ass out when he came up again. But in his truancy, those passions only swelled in her, stirring up something beyond anyone’s grasp.

The day Rebecca was sure she’d go out and sever someone’s head, the worst day of those two weeks, she had chosen to pamper herself through miscellaneous matters in an attempt to keep herself distracted from her ails. Between bouts of insufferable rage and trifling mental afflictions, she would carefully apply her expensive creams, do up her hair in the fancy curlers she loved so much and prepare to lacquer her nails in a fine red color. It was a tumultuous affair that juxtaposed between the picturesque illustration she wished to present and the tenuous mental state within. Between each episode she’d carefully neat her messed hair and dab at her wetted eyes. It hadn’t mattered though; her appearance perfectly emulated the despaired state within her. A distressing image of sickness and the unwell.

She would tread between an entirely maddened mess to a woman struggling to keep herself together, but desperately trying to. Her fiery eyes blown out wide and frantic, sullen with the purplish blue her exhaustion caused beneath them. Her cheeks are sunken, devoid of the rose tincture they typically donned. And despite her best efforts to maintain that faultless appearance it was futile, for that day, nothing could begin to cease the teeter totter that took refuge in that turbulent brain of hers. It was eventually settled upon; she needed to kill someone just alike him, less he wise up and come to. But that, that would be the only thing that kept her from becoming a shell of a girl with no purpose to life.

She instead finds herself surfing through the seven television channels their meddled reception provided them, in order to distance herself from the cage she was entrapped in. She settles on a familiar channel that played old black and white movies, reruns of those shown in cinemas years ago. The same channel she and her father would entertain from time to time. Doing her best to rest and calm her tempestuous thoughts she eases into the cushions on the sofa in the homestead’s living space, shaking up the rattling bottle of scarlet nail lacquer before twisting open it’s top.

A suspenseful, quick paced orchestra plays over a black screen, that which follows a series of opening credits transitioned through the retro slideshow that blended the stark white lettering against the streaks of gray and the blackness of the foreground. Ah, she’s tuned in just at the very start.

ALFRED HITCHCOCK’S

PSYCHO

Surprise is evident in her expression, the revelation dawning on her that this had been the exact film Johnny had recommended to her two weeks prior, the same one advertised on that movie poster. Confounded, she pauses, contemplating whether or not to switch the channel to the local news or continue on with the show. She resented the fact that he’d been the one that recommended it to her, but at the same time it piqued her interest for that very same reason.

Inevitably she decides to press on with the film, eyes transitioning back and fourth from the on screen story to her half painted toe nails that were placed gently against a throw pillow that sat atop the cushions. Her body is hunched over on the sofa, her knees tucked up against her chest as she hangs over them, hovering over to paint those neatly trimmed nails. She wiggles her toes and stretches them out, admiring her work with a tickled countenance. Every so often her icy gaze flickers up to the lit screen, half-heartedly following along with the intriguing story the film tells; a young woman on the run to set her man free of his debts.

There’s a well put together young man. His dark curls swept in a fine hairdo and his black eyes bleak and void of emotion. This aside, he is the classic depiction of a finely raised boy; well mannered and eloquently spoken. He looks nice, the type of man young women garnered trivial crushes on and gave valentines to. He was well dressed, clean and attractive, much like someone full of class. He offers a cunning, benevolent charm and a sort of reserved politeness. Not overtly uncomfortable, just the right amount of benignancy. Johnny could take a few notes.

As the story progresses it is revealed the man, Norman, is the proprietor of the motel the woman has taken refuge at. He invites her to dinner with his mother, things become heated over supper, and the woman returns to her motel room. Just as Becca has become disinterested in the dwindling story, something peculiar occurs. Something ominous, something sinister, something twisted and sick.

The man, once deemed charming and benevolent by Rebecca’s very own sentient, was now tastelessly peeping the winsome woman undress and strip down to the nude from a hole made through the walls. She must’ve made a face, one riddled with disgust and disbelief. She didn’t take him the type of man to be so vulgar.

But it doesn’t stop there, in fact, Becca’s attention averts fully to the story, her hand mindlessly waving about the nail polish cap as her eyes fixate on the screen. The man ceases his spectacle, just as the woman shuts the washroom door and steps into the shower.

No one could have explained what happened in that brain of hers, why she suddenly became to captivated. But as the woman rinses and scrubs her bare skin in a scene that borderlines pornography, Becca‘s attention is drawn to the graphic imagery. Fascinated and mesmerized, she inches out from her seat. Crawling from the sofa in an animalistic sense, hands stabilizing her body as she kneels against the cold, hard wood floors of the farmhouse. Never once does her stare remove itself from that television.

It’s a carnal exhibit of the sanguinary and viciously grim. A murderous collection of images that sickeningly captures the brutal stabbing of the young girl. Shrieking music and explicit camera shots of perfectly captured nudes as the blade penetrates in and out her wet torso, the water still pouring and intertwining in a tango with the thick blood that spills from the girl’s mutilated body. The killer stabs once, then twice, then thrice.

Becca cannot help the disgusting feeling that cudgels in her, the abominable desire for the obscene and uncouth. The effervescent fondness she has for the act of bloodshed and violence, the ravenous hunger for that which she’s lost. She thinks about it, imagine if she the killer and a boisterous man in that shower, her victim. The way she could dominate and make him feel so little, so useless.

She thinks back to the time she watched Sisters with Johnny. And the woman who so ruthlessly slaughtered men the way Becca wished she could do. She grew wary of seeing men prey on women, frustrated with the box the world had put her in. She could run a home far better than any man could, she could kill far worse than any man could, and she could be immensely more dangerous than any man could. She imagines herself in the killer’s place, pretends it’s Johnny in that shower as she catches him in such a vulnerable state. How downright horrible it was to prey on girl’s in such a weakened predicament.

The fantasy was delectably satiating. A beautiful desire fully realized. Rebecca doesn’t know whether or not to find the scene infuriating or inspiring. The thought of a man convicting such an act ignites the fire in her, but the idea of a role reversal is exhilarating. Just what she needs to take back the power of her perfect little life.

She crawls closer to the television, closing the space between her and it as she braces herself against her bare knees. Her head looms over the screen, observing as the killer vacates the scene and the woman, in her last, dying breaths grasps out for help. Only to be met with a collapsed shower curtain and her face flat against the tile floors. Water droplets dribble on her skin and her dark lashes clump together. She’s dead, her lifeless eyes staring blankly at nothing and her corpse still bursting with blood as it washes down the shower drain. The water still runs, but she’s gone.

The wolfish yearning swells in her, the urge becoming all most unbearable when presented with something as inhumane and mortal as this. The very thing she set out to distract herself from has only been made to grow with the invigorating art form. Her tremors develop to become more violent, her face contorting into an angry expression fueled by her cacoethes.

Her forehead is pressed against the now buzzing screen, hands clasped on either side of its metal frame as she shakes vigorously. The pads of her fingers press into the box gripping it tightly, fervently, feigning for some type of relief. Her knuckles burn white and those pretty eyes are open vast and wide as she continues to watch. She wants to see it again, and again, and again. The woman get stabbed to death by the no faced killer. The images play about in her brain, revealing themselves to her over and over again. She needs to see it a second time, perhaps a third.

There’s that fantasy again, the lethal and savage reverie of decimating a man and reducing him to chunks of dead meat. Only now she rethinks how she might do it. She’d still love to use that axe of hers, it had to be a staple in her routine. Her weapon of choice, so to speak. Instead of just hacking up their bodies into a heap of pieces perhaps she longed for something more degrading and humiliating, something that truly deduced them to the childish boys they were before she drug them through the anguish and suffering they deserved. Feasibly, she could use the shower to her advantage — just as the killer in Psycho had. She liked that, the idea of reversing the roles, being the unexpected. Going against the grain and changing the narrative. Make the men feel as though they were safe, protected. Only when they let their guards down would she swing open the shower curtain to take an axe to their naked bodies. The ideal concoction of both indignity and massacre, the perfect blend of torment and mortification. She’d start with their legs, they couldn’t do much if they couldn’t run. Then their arms, their dick, and then finally she’d revel in their tears of misery before severing their heads from their bodies. Through it all, she’d exude control. The very fate of their lives and wellbeing lied in her hands. Their endgame, the final outcome, it was hers to decide. She was playing God.

Then, her faultless illustration of class and reformation shatters. It doesn’t matter anymore, the only thing remaining is her need for the unattainable; the cruel and bloody.

Something in her just snapped.

Before she knew it, she was at the Sawyer’s doorstep banging against the screen and yelling on about Johnny and his obscenities.

“Johnny Sawyer you git yer’ ass out here right this second ‘fore I come in there and kick it out here for ya’!”

No answer.

“Johnny boy so help me God if I gotta come in there there’ll be hell to pay!”

Not even a sound.

“Johnny, now! I know you in there!”

The latch on the door clicks. She ceases her pounding and lowers her fist.

There he is, demoniac hallmarks as wickedly fine as ever and his stoic demeanor as though nothing was wrong at all. He sees her, sizes her up with his flagitious look and grins something ungodly and depraved. With a luciferin glint in those infernal eyes, he pulls the door open wide and leans leisurely against the doorframe. She thinks him privy to that devil, a fallen angel consumed by his own vain and pride.

Why he presumes as though nothing had happened between them is beyond her, as if he hadn’t just left her high and dry for two entire weeks without saying a damned word. He didn’t seem to see the fault in that, for he was still as cuntish as ever. It boiled her blood burning hot that he could act so indifferent, so unphased. Why couldn’t she of been the same.

“Darlin’, bout time you came around, how you been?” He nods his head towards her, folding his arms over his chest.

“Johnny Sawyer I swear to the great lord above you tell me what the hell is goin’ on and why you ain’t been comin’ bye no more huh? What kinda fuckin’ game you playin’?”

“Seemed like you needed some time to ya’ lonesome, had lots on yer mind I reckon.”

“That ain’t ever stopped you b’fore.” She leans in, gets real close. She can’t tell if he’s being smug with her or he actually means that horseshit.

“If I didn’t know any better darlin’ I’d say you’d missed me.”

“Johnny stop callin’ me darlin’, damnit. I’m tryna figure out just why the hell it is you make all this fuss bout a date then just up and disappear. After you had the audacity to say the things you said to me? Nu uh. No. I don’t think so, I don’t think so.”

Johnny pauses his speech and looks to the ground, smiling to himself as he sighs all most disappointingly. He stays there for a moment pondering her words and tapping his booted foot against the porch deck. He can feel her seething with contempt and rancor, her fiery sense burning that which her eyes glaze over. He didn’t expect her to be this distraught.

“I was tryna give you space. I knew you’d come see me when you was ready to.” He says ominously, alluding to some sort of thing she isn’t privy to. It sounds like a tease. His look moves upwards once more. He watches her carefully, dark eyes narrowing to her as she stares at him with a softened mien. One that perfectly emulates her degree of stupor and disbelief. Her brows arched upwards and her sapphire irises tender with the realization of her mistake.

It was one hell of an epiphany. She felt the truth of the matter rattle her core, disrupting her every thought as her misconceptions of Johnny Sawyer came thrashing down just as quick as her pestilent and relentless execration. He was telling the truth. And she doesn’t know what to be more upset over; the fact she’d so badly misjudged his morals or him, for humiliating her and causing so much bedlam and disorder.

Still she cannot bring herself to fully succumb to his cogent charms. Her bitterness had grown much too strong and she despised the way he melted her with the smooth sound of his voice or the graze of his hand. She hated all the emotions he made her feel, the way he made her insides churn and flip. She hasn’t forgotten the past two weeks, it was still all his fault.

The all too familiar feeling of her composure slipping floods in. With it the uncanny shakes of her body as she looks to him with crazy eyes, maddened. This is his fault. She tries so hard to hate him, but he makes it so hard to do so.

“God damnit Johnny I try so hard to hate you but you makin’ this too damn difficult!”

It becomes too much to bare, her trembling body heating up and turning a fiery red. She hates him still, but not for the same reasons she had before. This time it was much, much different. She couldn’t fathom the way he invaded her every thought and infected that which she cherished. He was like a virus the way he weaseled his way into her every single aspect of her life. There’s a faint hint of that rage she felt the very first time he broke her temper, and it was just enough to push her over the edge. Her hands form fists when her tremors become more fervent and before either of them can tell it the right fist comes crashing into his jaw with a fleshy thump. Johnny groans, cocking his head back and rubbing the spot with his palm.

He doesn’t find himself angry, though. He knew how she was and this wasn’t anything foreign to him. She’ll regret that later, he’s sure of that. It wasn’t that he thought he deserved it, but he knew good and well he’d toyed with her enough trying to figure out the type of girl she was. Now that he knew, he should’ve been more careful not to tick her off. Still, the intense yearning bellows in his gut and he all most lashes out at her like before, but he’s able to keep his calm. Instead he nods his head, tweaking his neck slightly before he plants his gaze on her.

“Alright, I’ll give you that one.”

Becca’s visage softens, once a scowl turning to a look of confusion and concern. She’d expected him to get angry, fight back, that was what she’d known him to do. She needed his anger and temper to justify her own ludicrous behavior. But he didn’t, he just took it without any quarrels. It was a decent hit too, she can see the red and purple forming on his jaw.

And he can so clearly see the dumbfounding in her face.

Admittedly though she feels a pang of guilt plague her consciousness. Now Rebecca was never the apologetic type, not genuinely, not unless it was someone she longed to impress. Be it the guilt or the gushy feelings he elicited from her, she felt the need to clear the air. After all, he proved himself to have a certain chivalrous quality about him. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as she initially made him out to be. Maybe, just maybe.

“Now I was ‘bout to head into town to grab a few things, how’s bout you come along with me and we talk bout all this?” With that, he shuts the door. The jingling of keys sounding as he passes by her.

“Fine. Only cause I ain’t finished with you just yet.” She’s reluctant to go but stern in her ways, she needs more answers. Her cold look sharpens as she turns to him.

“Fair ‘nough, you can count this as our second date.” He opens the passenger side of his truck for her and she moves toward the door, grabbing the hand her offers as she throws herself into the seat.

“Not quite that, watch yer self.”

“The two of us all alone, out in town, talkin’ and playin’, sounds lots like a date to me. Doncha’ think darlin’?” He’s only playing with her, a sheepish grin over his mouth as he chuckles heartily.

“You pushin’ yer luck.” She slams shut the rusted truck door. Johnny follows suit, stepping into the drivers side and starting up the spasmodic engine. The familiar sound of the intermittent misfires play before it shakes the cabin and comes to life, just as he shifts gears and heads up the drive and onto county road 172.

A contrast to their first car ride together, this one is not full of disdainful silence and trivial niceties. Rather a productive conversation initiated by Becca, who struggles to bind together her chaotic thoughts and piece together how she truly felt. Bouncing from one side of the spectrum to the other, she’s quick to relish in the frustration of her own emotional compass. Unable to navigate the complexities her brain conjures up.

“Listen,” she starts, nervous with the thought of being courteous to him. “I thought you were different.”

“How’s that?” Johnny only laughs, his eyes focused on the road as he drives.

“Momma had a lover like you.” Her eyes look to him solemnly, with no judgement or prior animosity. A truly sullen look, morose. “I hated him.”

“Well what’s that got to do with it?” Johnny clicks his tongue, looking to her a bit skeptically.

“Guess I thought you was the same typa boy. The type to bring about trouble and ruin lives, break a girl’s heart. Ya’ know? I was wrong though, and I’m real sorry ‘bout that.”

“And where’s that momma of yer’s now huh?”

There’s a halt in her speech, a distinct pause while she looks to him with wide, scary eyes. It’s creepy how sunken her features appear when she looks this way, macabre and deadly.

“She’s dead.”

“But damnit I can’t stand boys like that, despise ‘em. The type who think they can take advantage of a woman like me tch. Well I ain’t naive or a whore.”

Ironic considering the fact Johnny was a self proclaimed serial killer who preyed on clueless women in the same sense.

“I’ll tell ya’ something, you ain’t all wrong,” Johnny pipes up, caliginous eyes examine her for a moment as he removes them from the drive. “I kill girls. I weed ‘em out and make ‘em think they’s special. You know that. And when they do inevitably fall for me, I take ‘em back home and butcher ‘em up. I prey on those naive little creatures, they’re easy to catch.” She seems to be stoic and somewhat perturbed, but he only presses on. “But I told you before and I’ll tell you again, you’s different miss Rebecca Payne. And whether you’ve admit it yet or not, you yer’ selfs a killer too. You’d like to prey on boys and do the same thing as I, I know it. That, or you already have. Makes you special.”

It isn’t difficult for her to deduce that he once again speaks the truth.

She doesn’t know whether to be petrified in terror or delighted that he understood. She knows it should be the ladder, but she can’t help but feel complacent and comfortable near him. She’s calm. In a mind full of inhumane and otherwise immoral thoughts he made her feel normal and sane.

“You ain’t all wrong about me either,” she fesses. “I ain’t ever killed a man before Johnny.” She’s not forgotten the weeks of suffering and torment endured at his hand, rather she’s reached a standstill. A point where she cannot bring herself to be upset with a man who understood her so well, one who made her feel so stable, so perfect. “But I dream about the dozens of ways I’d do it.”

“That’s my girl.”

—

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭! - 𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

@yixxes @bdudette @nerdykat101 @kaymarnun

58 notes · View notes

small-sinclair · 4 months

Text

Snow and Rose

An idea by @violettelune

Reformed!Johnny Slaughter x fem!reader

Welcomed readers: @sup-im-blue

Tw: mention of blood and death, him being a dad, mainly his pov, just something fluffy, not prof-read

He woke up to another nightmare. Johnny dreamt that he found you dead in the sunflower field, your blood stained on his hands, lifeless eyes looking up. Then he heard his daughter crying in the distance. No matter how fast he ran towards her cries, he was never close enough. He was never there in time. It always ended with Nancy standing over the crib and a wicked smile on her face.

“Freed ya, Johnny. Now you can come home,” she would say. “Now you come back home. Come home.”

At his feet, barbed wire and chains wrapped around his legs and arms, pulling him to the ground. He felt roots sewing him to the wooden floor into front of his mother as he looked upon her and her smile. He felt chainsaw blades strangling him as he tried to scream your name, but sunflowers and daisies poured from his lips. His world filled with his victims, his deaths, and they all look at him with empty, lost eyes. He knew their names; how could he forget them? Then his eyes focus to the center and sees you and his child in a broken marble block, red tears falling from your eyes as you look on your child. He tastes your blood, your flesh between gasps and teeth. He hates this. He loves you. Stop. Stop it!

Wake up.

He would wake up in sweat, sometimes shutting, sometimes falling out of bed and pushing away from the bed and from you.

Tonight, however, he woke up with a start, breathing heavily, his dark eyes looking around like a scared wild animal. He looked down at your sleeping form then up at the cracked door leading into the hallway. He needed to check. Johnny just needed time check.

He got out of bed, put the blanket over your shoulder, and crept out of the room but something in his chest didn’t sit. He came back and kisses your head. “Be back, y/n,” he promised. “Keep my side warm.”

He may not be a hunter, but he still kept his talents. He can walk without noise, he can move without sound, and he can be hidden without being seen. Johnny uses that talent whenever his daughter is asleep when he comes home from a long day from the butchers. That’s why he got the job in Wisconsin; the butcher need another slaughter, and he’s good at it. Why waste a talent? He’s used to the blood, to the kill, but these are animals, not man. But he got the job to leave Texas. He swore to the stars he’ll never go back.

Johnny made that promise in a burned down church two years ago, and he stuck to it still.

He snuck out the room and down the hall to the open white door to the cotton candy pink room. He lets out a deep sigh as he came over the little white crib he built and looked down. Ophelia Rosemary Sawyer, his 5 week-year-old daughter, slept like a rock in a pink onesie with a bear in the center. Whatever fear he had, the nightmares, the shadows and ghosts— it all faded when he saw her sleeping in peace. Shes his rock, his world, his reason.

Ever so slowly, he lowered his hand and touched her head, and his heart fluttered when she moved into his hand. She’s not scared of him. As if she’s glass, he picks her up slowly and cradles her. He sneaks to the wooden rocking chair in the corner and rocks back and forth. The moonlight lit the room as the snow fell gently over the evergreens.

“Hey there, little sunshine,” he whispers. “Don’ worry. Daddy’s just needed ya.” He looks down at his world and rests his forehead against hers, kisses it, and holds her close. “I swear you’ll never be alone, ever. I love you… I’ll never not love ya.” Then he looks outside, stands up, and takes her to the window. “Look at ‘at, Ophelia,” he whispers in her small spot of brown hair, “it’s your first snow. So pretty an’ bright.” He looks out at the fields and forests, the farmlands and homes, and he thinks about the fireflies and waving weeds he left behind. “Daddy ain’t goin’ away, sunshine. I promise.”

He closes his eyes breathed out slowly. “Texas can keep the fireflies,” he looked down at his child, his blood and flesh, and his heart swelled, “I got my snow and rose.”

“Johnny?” Your voice was enough to make him jolt but he relaxed. “Why are you up? Is Ophelia okay?” You joined his side and looked down at your child. “I didn’t hear her.”

“Naw,” he answers, rocking on his heel, his eyes not leaving his child. “Sleepin’ like a lamb.”

You rested your head on his arm as he looked outside. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah,” he said as he laid his head on top of yours.

“Is this your first snow?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Is it everything you’d imagined?”

He thought for a moment as he took in the land before him. He could imagine Ophelia and her friends running wild outside with sleds, building snowmen, having a snowball fight out back. He could see himself with you during a star filled night while the children sleep, slow dancing with you in the snow, kissing you sweetly while whispering praises. He thought about Texas and the heat, but he thought about you smiling while it snowed, his kids playing, and him giving you a cup of cocoa.

“Everything and more, moonbeam,” he whispers, meeting your eyes. He leans down and kisses you tenderly. “I love you, y/n.”

“And I love you, Johnny,” you said back. You looked back at the snow, and you both watched it fall over the moon lit snow.

#tcm johnny #johnny slaughter x reader #johnny slaughter x you #johnny sawyer x reader #johnny tcm #johnny sawyer #johnny slaughter #tcm fanfic #slasher fanfiction #slasher x y/n #slasher x you #slasher fanfic #slasher x reader #Johnny sawyer x you

161 notes · View notes

violettelune · 5 months

Text

“you… you know i’m in love with you, right?”

oh, does it hurt to hear those words from johnny’s mouth. from countless nights of you both tangled up in the rusted sheets of roadside hotel beds, from the morning after breakfasts at diners with runny sunny side-ups… from you, finding him in and discovering his shack for the first time.

hacking somebody to pieces. the blood all over him. the tension held in his shoulders.

oh, does it hurt him, with the way you look at him now after he uttered those words. your eyes full of hurt, adoration, and scorn all at once. your brows furrowed, jaw tightened. the dim morning gray shining through the window in your apartment’s kitchen. it’s just you and johnny, sitting across from each other at your small dining table in the corner — a table meant only for two. ‘how poetic,’ you think to yourself.

“i love you,” johnny says again. he’s confused because isn’t that what you wanted to hear? isn’t it what he wants to believe true? why were you crying?

a beat of silence.

then from you, solemnly looking up to meet his gaze: “i love you too.”

#johnny slaughter #johnny slaughter x reader #johnny slaughter x you #johnny sawyer #slasher x y/n #slasher x you #slasher x reader #texas chainsaw massacre game #tcm game #tcm johnny #johnny tcm #texas chainsaw game #slashers

183 notes · View notes

xxcocothekillerxx · 2 months

Text

Behind Locked Doors

Pairing: Johnny slaughter x FemReader

Summary: Y/N recently moved into a somewhat small town, Newt, In Texas with her father. Y/N's father thought this would be a good opportunity for them, since things got rough back in California. Little do they know the trouble that awaited them..

!?THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS NSFW?!

Warning: This series will contain 18+ content & material! NSFW situations and possibly TRIGGERING topics such as- Depression, stalking, blood & gore, manipulation, mention of kidnapping and small amounts of self-harm, such as scars/cuts.

{{ Please proceed with care if you're sensitive to ANY of these topics }}

Author's Note: This is my first time really writing NSFW stories / stories in general. Tips and tricks on how to improve my writing and overall layout are welcome, though keep it respectful please. Other than that please enjoy! 💋

Chapter 5: The Basement

‘The night was cold and dead, the air thick in your lungs as you struggled to breathe. Your skin ran cold to the touch and you felt yet a warm feeling of liquid drip down your arms, pain ran through them as they hung above your head. For some strange reason you couldn't feel your hands, they felt numb as if they were cut off or tied. Your head was throbbing which distracted you from the darkness around you, you felt as if you were walking upon clouds and yet felt weighed down by bricks. You wanted to struggle to fight or run.. yet nothing came, no movement of your body, no flicker of your eyelids, no twitching of your fingers or nose. You felt dead, as if you floated underneath water and yet you still felt the pain surge through your body as if it were real. As you ponder within darkness, a horizontal slit of light appears in the distance. You could almost feel the warmth of its light hit you, as if you could touch it. However your body failed to do so, limp and motionless as you watched the light. It's teasing warmth almost taunting you now as you could only watch. You suddenly heard a voice, you couldn't figure out what it spoke but you could tell it sounded familiar. It was distant yet you could tell it was filled with regret and concern.. maybe even anger, you felt warmth hit the side of your ribs if someone touched you. It felt warm, comforting and strangely familiar. Your eyes glanced back to the light that now grew closer, your head pounding as if were to explode. You felt the twitch of your fingers as you felt your body tingle, the cold from your body slowly turning to warmth. The light held something within it, things moved around in the light and yet you couldn't understand what was happening. The voice came back louder now, paired with another. They argued about something.. one sounded older. But it was only muffled as they yelled at each other. The only words you could make out were “fuck you” ,“I could handle it” and “child” while also a few other muffled things were said. Your throat grew tight as you could feel groans of pain claw their way out, only whimpers of agony left you. Suddenly the arguing stopped, silence quickly flooded your ears to the point they began to ring. The aching pain of your limbs started to get to you as the slit of light began to widen more and more.. the warmth of the light hit your skin and you watched it shine through a window..’

“Well golly!..” you heard a male voice speak out, the scratchy yet almost surprised voice filled your ears as whoever spoke near you stammered slightly on their words. The smell of animal shit and blood filled your nose and almost made you puke on the spot, your vision was still fuzzy as the dim light glistened through the window. Your eyes struggled slightly to fully open as they started to examine the room around you, a stone brick wall greeted you along with cluttered shelves of boxes and tools of different sorts lined some of the walls. A small set of stairs on the far wall leading up to a door, only lit with a dim red light. Buckets scattered around the room and other pieces of scattered objects filled the surrounding area, dust floated slightly above the floor as the air stayed thick above it and you watched dust particles slowly dance around as the sun shines on them. Your vision started to become more clear as your head felt as if it were going to crack open, something felt dry on your face. The smell of iron now filled the air as your eyes landed on a pair of dirty black shoes, your eyes slowly went up along the gray baggy pants until you saw a baggy green shirt.

A weird necklace of fur and other things you couldn't make out around the person's neck, as your eyes went up your gaze met a face that had an ear to ear smile whipped across it. A weird birthmark on his cheek and greasy black hair that hardly looked washed. His crooked smile never faltered as his beady brown eyes watched you like a crazy and feral animal, his smell alone made you wanna vomit. He started to jump around like an animal with worms in its brain, laughing crazily as his arms slightly flailed around in the air. “She's awake! She's awake! Hahaha!” His annoying laughter made your head pound even harder which caused the pain to grow in your body, the realization started to hit you like a ton of bricks. Adrenaline started to fill you and the memories of what felt like last night came flooding back into your brain, your eyes started to dart around your body in more of a panicked manner. The sight of red trailing down your arms and body set off a wave of pain and panic and you realized it was your own blood, the smell of iron from before when you felt something slightly dry on your face became clear. Blood, your blood was running down your face.. Groans of pain escaped you as you went to struggle, only causing more pain as you looked up to see what held your arms from escaping this hell. The man only laughed more at the struggles he was witnessing, almost mocking you with his beady eyes. Shock struck you hard as your eyes became wide… your hands, the conclusion of why you couldn't feel them hit you hard in the face as you looked at the rusty and bloody hook that ran through your palms.

Adrenaline kicked in overdrive as you struggled against the painful restraints, the pain grew too much to bare as you felt blood start to dripping down your wrists, the scrawny man that stood in front of you only laughed hysterically at your failed attempts to escape the restraints, bouncing around almost like a toddler as he mocked and pointed towards you. “I see why he likes ya’!!” He laughed, clawing slightly at his cheek before pulling a small pocket knife from his baggy pants. His wild grin sent a shiver down your spine. The urge to scream and call for help attempted to come out, yet only a broken cry escaped. Your throat felt scratchy and dry, you couldn't muster a voice to save your life..literally.. and panic set in as the man slowly but surely brought the knife to the heap of your neck, trailing its sharp end down to your collarbone. Wincing as he left what felt like paper cuts across your skin, a devilish glint shined in the deranged man's eyes as he watched himself drag the small knife from your collarbone to your shirt. You almost thought he was drooling as he started to cut at the Hem of your shirt, his smile only grew wider on his face as he focused on his knife. “I've never really seen a’ woman before!” he chuckled, bringing his other hand to the shirt to help cut down the length of the shirt. However before he could even start the job you heard the door open from the staircase, light footsteps followed closely. They sounded bare, as if someone was almost tip-toeing on their bare feet. You almost felt relief as you saw a blonde woman come into view, she was wearing a dark gray dress with white spots along the neck, skirt and straight down the middle of the dress. Her hair was up in a bun and she looked more sane then the wild animal of a man you had cutting at your shirt, her smile was almost comforting until she spoke. “nubbins! The heck ya doin' to the poor thang!” She scolded the man, who jumped at the sudden interruption. “N-NOTHIN!’..” the man reacted before quickly scurrying away like a kid who just got caught, her tone was cold and calculated almost before her attention was brought back to you. A smile across her lips as she stood there for a second before revealing the cup of water from behind her back, your eyes widened towards her at the sight of the water. You felt as if you haven't tasted water in days or even weeks, you did your best to muster words.. they only came out wheezy and dry as you spoke. “P-please! Get me down from h-here!... They’re cra-” you were cut short as you coughed, the strain on your throat only brought more pain. However the woman in front of you seemed to understand the pain as she slowly brought the cup of water closer to you, bringing it to your lips before tilting it so you could sip from it. Your body felt relaxed as you drank the water, finally someone who felt like helping you.

“Awe… poor thang’ been out for almost a week now… must be so thirsty!” Her tone sounded sincere yet mocking at the same time, your face filled with confusion ‘for a week?..’ you thought, however joyfulness filled you as you felt the water hit your guts. You went to speak, to ask for help.. to know where the hell you were.. Everything suddenly felt dizzy again, your vision blurred as you started to drift in and out of consciousness. “Makes it easier to put a lil’ something in here for ya’..hope it takes the pain away a lil' darlin’!! Hehehe” her giggled rang through your ears, her blurred figure slowly drifting away as she headed towards the stairs, the patter of her bare feet on the concrete now stained your mind as darkness swallowed you.

You felt dazed and confused, ‘is this a cruel nightmare..’ you thought, seeing moonlight shine through the window. Fear crept through your body as you hung there in the dark and cold basement, or what you thought was a basement. As you hung there you couldn't help but take another look around and everything felt, smelled and almost tasted of blood, dust and shit. You saw bones scattered in the corners and along shelves. Buckets of what looked to be filled with blood and guts of animals.. you hoped they were animal. Your mind raced, thoughts that felt like yesterday ran rampant in your head. ‘johnny.. where's Johnny… he'll help me’ kept replaying in your head. Your body was exhausted but you didn't want to let yourself fall asleep, you needed to escape however the hook in your hands proved too much as you once again struggled. You quickly stopped your attempts as you heard heavy footsteps from above, they sounded as if they were trying to keep quiet themselves as they walked along the floor above you. They became muffled as they went in the direction of the door, and then you heard that familiar creek of a door opening. You felt your heart start to race, a mixture of fear, excitement and terror all at the same time. “Johnny? Leland?.. Connie?..’ you thought in your head, the fear of that horrific woman or deranged man coming back down made your heart pound. You wanted to act like you were still out cold, to avoid anything or anyone that came down. Then you heard it… “you awake sunflower?..” his voice almost brought tears to your eyes almost immediately, like a ray of light finally came as you perked your head up to meet his gaze. “J-johnny!” you shakenly struggled to get his name out from your lips. Johnny quickly made his way over to you, not releasing you from your restraints yet as he examined you. Seeing the blood made his eyes widen slightly, yet you couldn't help but notice he expression seemed blank, as if seeing you like this didn't faze him. He could tell from your eyes alone how exhausted, yet excited you were to see him, his gaze never left yours as he embraced you in a weird yet comforting hug as you still hung there. “Thank’ Goodness you're finally awake…” he spoke, hsi comment seemed off but your brain was too relieved to finally be free, to run to the police and get help. Johnny quickly gave water to you that he brought down, you hesitated for a second before you drank it. The cool liquid washes your throat and guts. “thats it'… drink up sunflower..” he spoke softly as he used a hand to wipe off the liquid dripping from your neck, your lips parted from the cup as you went to speak. “P-please.. get me down from here. We gotta escape this hell!..” you yelled, however your mouth was quickly covered by his hand, his eyes seemed stern and almost offended by what you said.

You felt your brows furrowed in confusion as you have yet to see him attempt to free you, “I … can't” he spoke, his gaze breaking from yours. His eyes met the floor as your breathing fell in a panic as your mind raced. eyes widened with confusion and fear as you watched Johnny back away from you slightly. Anger and confusion built up in your brain as you watched him, “wh- why not?...” You spoke, confusion and anger in your tone, the tone in your voice seemed to gain his attention as once again he looked up at you. Guilt riddled on his face as he seemed to fight off other emotions, “sunflower… I can't just let you leave..” he had an expression close to pleading as he stepped closer towards you before he continued, “my family…won't let that happen.” the word ‘family' rang in your ear, you felt your face grow cold and pale, your face blank of emotion as you felt almost numb. Your brain went blank as you processed everything, you felt yourself stare into space. Johnny interrupted your gaze by standing closer to you, leaning down to meet with your eyes.

“Come'on sunflower… talk to me..” he spoke, as if this your reaction shouldn’t be surprising to him. The broken trust you felt as you broke into tears, you felt nothing as Johnny's hand cupped your cheek as if to comfort you. “Fine…” he muttered, almost seeming annoyed or angry at the lack of response. You watched blankly as he walked away, his body tensed as if he was stopping himself from punching something. He gave one last glance back towards you over his shoulder, his eyes shooting daggers into you before he spoke. “I'll bring food soon…” he growled as he stomped his way up the stairs, the slam of the door making you flinch slightly. The tears started to stream down your cheeks, the thoughts ran wild as you felt yourself lose hope.

You found yourself looking around the room once again, the numbness you felt started to kill small parts of you. The table was to the right of you had small tools placed on top of its surface, a hammer and a few nails laid scattered around the table. A knife also sat itself on the table, rust or dried blood stained the silver steal. You looked over to your left and saw another one of the blood filled buckets, this one reeked and mold and rotting guts. On the concrete floor beside the bucket laid larger gardening tools such as a rusty shovel, rake and shears. Rope Hung on the walls slightly behind you and you noticed a large deep freezer on the far right wall, rust lining its corners and edges. You looked hesitantly up towards your hands, the hook still puncturing through them. You knew what you needed to do but didn't know if you had the strength, with a grunt and groan of pain you started to swing yourself carefully in order to hook your foot onto the table. Trying your best to hook your foot onto one of the legs of the table, each swing more horrifically painful then the rest before managing to hook your foot onto one of the legs. You celebrated in your head as you brought the table close enough to use it as leverage, using your foot to push yourself up and managing to unhook one of your hands, the feeling of relief and freedom filled you as you quickly unhooked your other hand. Dropping yourself to the ground as victory tears overwhelmed you, examining the palms of your hands. You looked at the hole in them in almost disbelief, the holes were small, however they did enough damage to make it extremely difficult to move your hands properly.

You heard footsteps once again above you, ‘Johnny’ you thought before you quickly looked around having no clue on what to do except the deep freezer. Even though it would seem dumb to lay in a cold freezer meant for meats, you had nothing else.. as you rushed over and opened the somewhat weirdly empty deep freezer, you heard the creek of the door and without hesitation you quickly jumped inside. The freezing touch of ice stabbed at your back and sides as you laid there, listening to the heavy footsteps come down the stairs. “Sunflow-..” you heard Johnny speak out, panic in the back of your mind as you held your breath tightly. “Y/N?!” You heard his tone turn to panic and even slight anger. The frantic footsteps walking around the room, the sound of things being haphazardly tossed to the side before the footsteps faded for a few seconds. He was looking for you definitely, only when you heard footsteps get closer to the freezer did you feel the sweat start to beat down your forehead. ‘please…’ you thought, dread washing over you as you watch his finger curl under the lid of the deep freezer to open it. Seconds felt like an entirety as you watched the lid slowly open, your heart pounding in your chest. You shut your eyes tightly as the lid opened fully, awaiting to get grabbed by him. Yet a gentle touch came instead, peaking through an eye to look at him.. instead. “Leland?!” You couldn't help but get filled with excitement, your eyes quickly widened as joy and relief filled your body. However Leland's hand quickly hushed you as he looked around slightly nervously, “shh.. shh.. I know..” his tone soft yet stern as he quickly comforted you, taking you in his arms to make sure you were ok. “Thank goodness...” you said, exhausted as you finally got reunited with your friend. “Let's get the fuck outta’ here..” Leland harshly whispered before slowly standing up and walking back towards where he originally came from, you followed suit before stopping at a toolbox that you saw on a shelf earlier. Some small nails and bulbs greeted you before you grabbed a screwdriver, you watched Leland round the corner and disappear behind it. It almost looked like a tunnel or cave, you went to quickly catch up with Leland before you heard a thud..

“Now now sunflower…” your heart sunk quickly to your gut, your eyes locked with his once again as he now held a knockout Leland by the back of the neck. “why’d ya’ go and do that…” Johnny spoke, his eyes closed with disappointment written on his face. Making a ‘tsk tsk’ noise with his tongue as he dropped Leland to the ground between you and him, you couldn't help but stumble backwards onto your butt as you watched Johnny slowly step over Leland's body towards you, he was now towering over you. You felt helpless as he squatted down in front of you and looked you dead in the eyes, they were filled with rage and yet a strange calmness. “j-johnny please!..” you pleaded, your protest was interrupted quickly as Johnny held a large knife to your throat, his face blank as he held it firmly against your skin. “Get Up.” He growled and without hesitation, or wanting to piss him off more, you stood up quickly. Your body in pain and starting to cramp as you did so, you knew you were too weak to run.. let alone fight back. Johnny stood up with you, still hovering over you before he urged you backwards towards a wall with the knife. The cold steel against your skin as your back hit the wall, no words were spoken for a good minute before Johnny leaned himself closer towards you. His lips now against your ear as he practically growled into your ear. “Why’d ya’ do it sunflower?..” his tone cold and dead as he spoke, his knife firmly planted against your neck still as he brought his head back to look at you. His other hand on the other side of your head as he leaned himself closer to you, “I was gonna keep ya’ safe..” he muttered, anger clearly started to come through as he gritted his teeth. He waited for a response, a response you didn't give as you felt frozen in fear and shock. This clearly started to piss Johnny off as the hand that was once on the wall now wrapped itself onto your waist, his grip tight as he slightly dug his fingers into your side. This caused you to yell in pain, shivers went up your body as you felt your legs buckle underneath you. You weren't paying attention as Johnny brought the knife down towards your chin to make you face him again, the cold blade touching your chin as it forced your head upwards. Your teeth gritted together in pain as your legs wobbled, you gripped onto Johnny's forearm to hold yourself up and Johnny quickly smirked as he brought his face close to yours. In almost a caring yet mocking tone, Johnny spoke “let me take care of ya sunflower…” as he helped you sit down on the cold floor, kneeling with you as he did so.

You sat there helplessly, confused and conflicted. Tears streaming down the sides of your face as then darted to an unconscious Leland, Johnny using his hand to firmly grab your chin and bring your attention back to him. “Look at me when I talk to ya’..' ' he demanded, his change in behavior almost terrified you as it felt like yesterday when you were in his embrace and loved you like nothing else. You felt stupid for giving into love.. for trusting him.. and yet something still gave you the feeling that he wasn't going to hurt you. His gentle touch, the way he watched you.. “Johnny… please, I'm sorry” you begged, wanting to not be put on that hook again. Johnny's face softened as if he was conflicted with something, yet he didn't say anything as he looked at you. You watch his brows furrowed ever so slightly as he gently cupped your face, his lips parting as if to say something… yet nothing came. “Sun-.. I..” words struggled to come out as he spoke before he started to lean in slightly closer to you, your faces only inches apart. You tried to back yourself up and away but a wall stopped you from doing so, nervousness and anger filling your head as thoughts came rushing through you. Your trust betrayed and yet you wanted the embrace, to get out of this place. Your breathing heavied as you watched his face closely, his expression showing one of guilt and even remorse. Johnny took your lips onto his, the taste felt dry, almost dusty with a hint of blood as he kissed you. His grip tightening on your face as he pressed you closer to him, you felt waves of emotions hit you. You wanted to smack him for even thinking to do so and yet the kiss felt almost freeing, the comfort of someone caring made the tears trickle down your cheeks, you felt numb slightly as you felt his lips pull away from yours. Johnny noticed your reaction as he gave a soft smile.. his eyes hooded slightly as you spoke in a gentle manner “let me help ya’ Y/N..” you felt slightly surprised he used your name, it made him sound almost sincere as he spoke to you. You looked into his eyes as he offered his hand, you hesitantly took his hand in yours as he helped you off the ground. He gently held your side as he brought you into another room, this one much larger as you saw a bed in the left corner. The muted red sheets covered a slightly torn mattress and metal frame, it almost looked like a prison bed from the looks of it. The wooden bucket sat on the end of the bed on the floor before you looked to the right side, some random scraps of bones and small piles of dirt laid scattered around the edges. Johnny slowly led you to the bed before helping you sit down, a look of confusion landed on your face as you wondered why you were brought in here. Johnny gave a soft smile before he headed towards the door of the room, looking at you from over his shoulder. “I'll take care of ya’ here sunflower…” he spoke before walking out of the room and closing the door behind him, you felt confused for a second before you heard a click of a lock. You felt your gut sink before adrenaline kicked in and you rushed yourself to the door, “j-johnny??..” no response came back as it started to bang on the door. Once you realized he wasn't gonna come back, tears formed in your eyes as you slid down against the door.

You cried on the floor as you were now trapped in practically a cell, you hugged yourself as you wept there for hours…you lost hope in trying to escape this hell, the trust you felt only shattered more as you felt betrayed, you cried… as now you were stuck In a house with maniacs.

END OF CHAPTER 5

Heyo Darlings!❤️ I apologize for the delay in this chapters release.. been a bit burnt out from doing a lot of things. However I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Let let know what you've thought.. I'm excited for the next chapters! I have a really good idea in mind 💋💋💋

Special Tags - @thisissky @lil-spider 💋❤️

47 notes · View notes