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howietheslothful · 8 months ago

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The Midnight Pursuit pt 6

> Johnny Slaughter Vampire AU x Reader <

Synopsis: You meet the woman herself, Nancy Slaughter. What plans does she have for you?

~~~~~~

A few days, maybe more, had passed. In the basement, time was a murky river, each second drowning in shadows and silence, so that my senses felt dulled and strange, like I was caught in a fever dream. The only constants were the damp chill of the concrete walls, the smell of earth and mildew, and the slow, quiet dread creeping through me each day. When sleep finally came, it was restless and shallow, and I woke in patches of confusion, my thoughts scattered like fragments of broken glass. One of those times, I was jolted awake by the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs, a slow, deliberate rhythm. And then I saw her. Nancy’s tall, imposing figure filled the doorway, her presence a dense, suffocating force that seemed to pull the light from the room. She descended slowly, each step echoing, her form casting elongated shadows that twisted and bent across the walls. As she drew closer, the first thing I noticed was her scar—a jagged, angry line that slashed across her face, running from her brow to her cheekbone, dissecting her features with a terrible, raw violence. Her left eye, milky and blind, was almost luminous in the dim light, an eerie, unnatural thing. But it wasn’t the scar alone that struck me. It was the way she held herself, the way she wore the scar like a badge, a twisted symbol of survival that gave her an aura of ferocity. It was as if that scar, that mark of violence, had somehow amplified her power rather than diminished it.

Nancy’s remaining good eye, sharp and dark, found me with unsettling precision. When she caught me staring at the scar, her lips twisted into a cruel, taunting smile, the kind that could unsettle even the most hardened soul. “Curious, ain’t ya?” Her voice was low, cold, and steeped in that unmistakable southern drawl, a tone that could freeze the blood in your veins. “People always are. Ain’t every day you see a woman like me with a mark like this.” She lifted her hand, her fingers trailing over the roughened skin with a strange kind of tenderness, as though she were caressing an old, cherished wound. “It came with a price,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “Just like most things worth havin’.”

Behind her, Johnny stood, half-hidden in the shadows, a silent figure with a bowed head and stiff posture. His face was taut, the tension clear in the way his shoulders hunched. And there, just visible in the dim light, was a fresh gash above his brow, a thin red line etched into his skin. I couldn’t help myself—I asked, “What happened to your eyebrow?” My voice was quiet, wary but sincere.

Nancy chuckled, an almost affectionate mockery in the sound. “He’s been a little under the weather,” she said, the faintest hint of exasperation coloring her words. “When he’s unwell, his healin’ slows down. He’s not as… resilient as usual.” Her gaze lingered on him, sharp and critical, as if his weakened state were a personal failure. Johnny’s face darkened, his jaw clenched, but he kept his gaze on the floor, his hands balled into fists. The flush in his cheeks betrayed a blend of anger and shame, though he tried to hide it. And in that moment, I understood—the mark on his face wasn’t from some battle. It was a symbol of her control, another reminder of the iron grip she held over him.

Nancy turned back to me, her heels scraping against the floor as she closed the distance between us. Her presence loomed, so close that I could feel her coldness pressing against me, an almost physical weight. “I wanted a child,” she said quietly, her voice softer, almost intimate, but twisted with something dark. “But nature wasn’t kind enough to grant me one. So, I found a way. I made one. I turned Johnny into what he is now—my perfect creation. A son molded by strength, by necessity.” She glanced back at Johnny, her gaze hardening. He shifted uncomfortably, visibly recoiling, though he said nothing. “The scar?” she continued, touching her own damaged eye. “It’s a reminder of what happens when y’er weak. A reminder of why strength is the only thing that matters.”

Her good eye, cold and predatory, locked onto me, and a shiver ran down my spine. “Don’t think for a second this scar makes me weak,” she said, her voice a low, dangerous hiss. “I’m stronger than anyone you’ll ever meet. Every scar, every cut—they’re all just part of that strength. I took each one, paid the price, and I survived.” She tilted her head, her gaze piercing, as though daring me to question her. Her words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating, filled with a chilling pride. I began to realize that she was more than just a figure of control—she was a force, a power that had taken Johnny’s life and twisted it into something she saw as perfection.

As she paced around me, a predator circling her prey, I could feel the weight of her scrutiny, her gaze dissecting me with an intensity that left me cold. Behind her, Johnny remained silent, his fists still clenched, his face tense, but his eyes flickered to mine with an emotion I couldn’t quite read. The way Nancy spoke of him—as though he were an object, a weapon she’d forged and molded—made my stomach turn. I saw the pain behind his anger, the flickers of resentment in his eyes when he dared to glance up, the shame that sat heavy on his shoulders.

Nancy’s voice cut through the silence, her tone softening in a way that was somehow more menacing. “I gave Johnny the life he has now,” she said, her voice laced with an eerie pride. “And he’ll do as I say, just as I made him to. I needed someone strong, someone unbound by morals or sentiment. Someone who understands power.” Johnny shifted again, his gaze darting to mine, as if seeking some kind of understanding, though he quickly looked away. The anger in his posture simmered, a quiet fury that he seemed unable to release, restrained by some invisible chain that held him to her.

Nancy’s fingers brushed over the edge of a table where her tools and syringes lay scattered, each one glinting coldly in the dim light. Her voice softened further, as if speaking to herself. “Strength comes at a cost,” she murmured, her fingers tracing the scarred skin around her left eye, her voice a bitter echo. “This scar… it’s a reminder of what happens when you let others think they can overpower you. I ain’t makin’ that mistake again.”

She turned, her gaze sharp, fixing on Johnny with a look that was both proud and unyielding. “Remember that, my son. Power ain’t just ‘bout what you take; it’s ‘bout what you protect. I made you strong for a reason, and I expect you to live up to that!” Johnny’s jaw tightened, the fury in his eyes barely concealed, but he nodded, swallowing down whatever defiance lingered within him. I could feel the conflict raging beneath his silent obedience, the fractured pieces of him pulling against each other.

Unable to hold back any longer, I asked, “Why do you let her talk about you like that? Like you’re just… something she created?”

Johnny’s gaze snapped to mine, and for a fleeting moment, something raw and real flickered in his eyes—anger, resentment, maybe even regret. But Nancy’s mocking laugh cut through the moment, cold and sharp. “Oh, he knows his place. Don’t ya, Johnny?”

For a brief second, Johnny’s red eyes met mine, and I saw something deeper there—something torn, broken, a piece of himself trapped and struggling beneath the surface. But he looked away quickly, his voice low and hollow. “I do what needs to be done,” he muttered, though his words lacked conviction, the bitterness barely concealed.

Nancy’s smile widened, a twisted satisfaction lighting her face. “Good. Just remember, Johnny, you wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for me. I gave you everythin’, and you owe me everythin’.” The silence that followed was thick, suffocating, the weight of her words pressing down on all of us. She turned her back to us, clearly pleased with her hold over him, but as she moved away, Johnny’s gaze lingered on me, his expression haunted, filled with a mixture of anger, guilt, and something else—a silent plea, maybe, a quiet desperation that made my heart ache.

Nancy approached with a syringe in hand, her gaze cold and clinical. “Hold still, Special Bloodbag,” she said, her smile twisted, almost playful, as though she were speaking to a cherished pet. The nickname sent a chill through me, a reminder of what I was to her—a resource, a tool, nothing more. Johnny stood in the corner, his fists clenched, his face a mask of stoic resignation. He was watching her, his expression unreadable, his eyes flickering to me, but he made no move to stop her. Nancy’s fingers brushed my skin, ice-cold and precise, and she found a vein with practiced ease. Without hesitation, she jabbed the needle into my arm, and I bit down hard, determined not to show any weakness. The steady pull of my blood being drawn was nauseating, a slow, sickening drain that left me feeling hollow.

Nancy held up the vial, watching the dark red liquid swirl, her eyes shining with a strange, possessive pride. “See, Johnny,” she murmured, almost reverent, “this is what strength looks like.” She held the vial up to the light, letting the blood glint and glimmer, and I could see the hunger in her eyes, the twisted satisfaction in her smile. I was nothing more than a tool to her, a part of her grand vision of power. And as I sat there, watching the gleam in her eyes, I knew one thing with chilling certainty—Nancy would stop at nothing to get what she wanted. Nancy’s grip on the vial was almost reverent, her eyes locked on the rich crimson inside as if it held some great, hidden power. Her fingers tightened around the glass, and her expression softened into something disturbingly tender, like a mother holding her newborn child. In that moment, I realized that this blood—my blood—was more than just a trophy to her. It was something sacred, something that fed into her twisted belief in control and dominance. I could feel a strange shiver of fear and anger worming its way up my spine, but I held my ground, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing me tremble.

“Oh, don’t look so sour,” she said, glancing at me with a smirk, her gaze flickering over my face. “I told ya before—you’re special. Y’er blood… it’s somethin’ else. Somethin’ I’ve never seen before.” She tilted her head, studying me with that same unsettling curiosity. “And because of that, you’ve earned yerself a bit more time. A little more patience, if you will.”

I forced myself to meet her gaze, my voice hoarse but steady. “And what exactly does my ‘special’ blood get you, Nancy? Some twisted sense of immortality? Strength? Or just another excuse to keep me chained down here?”

Nancy’s eyes darkened, her smirk hardening into something cruel. “Ya know, it’s funny,” she drawled, almost lazily. “Everyone’s always askin’ questions, lookin’ for answers, tryin’ to understand what they ain’t got the mind to grasp.” She held up the vial to the dim light, letting the blood glimmer in that cold, lifeless basement. “But what’s inside here… it’s mine now. Just like everythin’ else in this damn house.” Behind her, Johnny shifted uncomfortably, his gaze darting between us. I could feel his presence like a storm gathering at the edge of a horizon, his tension palpable. His fists unclenched and clenched again, as though fighting some internal war, his eyes flickering with an anger he couldn’t quite suppress. It was there, bubbling under the surface, his resentment, his fury. Yet he kept it under lock and key, biting down on whatever words he might have wanted to hurl at her.

I looked directly at Johnny, daring to challenge the silence he was wrapped in. “Is that true, Johnny?” I asked quietly, my voice carrying a tremor of both fear and defiance. “Do you really think this… this ‘life’ she gave you is all you deserve?”

For a moment, he just stared at me, his red eyes wide and uncertain, like a deer caught in headlights. But then Nancy’s mocking laugh cut through the tension, cold and cutting. “Oh, don’t bother wastin’ yer breath, Sweetie. He’s got nothin’ to say to ya. Ain’t that right, Johnny?”

He looked at her, his jaw clenched so tightly I could see the muscles twitch. But, true to form, he didn’t answer her. His silence was like a wound, raw and open, something he carried with him but could never heal. I could see it then—the years of servitude, the countless slights, the scars on his face and soul that he bore in quiet, bitter resignation. And for the first time, I truly pitied him. Nancy seemed to sense it too. Her gaze softened just a fraction, a twisted kind of maternal pride flashing in her eyes as she looked at him. “See, Sweetie,” she murmured, almost gently, “I made Johnny strong. I gave him a purpose. He was nothin’ before, just like the rest. But now… now he’s somethin’ to be reckoned with.” She turned back to me, her smile a dark, malevolent thing. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“What I understand,” I said, my voice stronger now, fueled by anger, “is that you’ve twisted him into something he was never meant to be. You’ve stripped away his humanity and left him with nothing but…” I faltered, seeing the flicker of pain in Johnny’s eyes, but pushed on, “…but chains.”

Nancy’s face twisted, her smirk vanishing, replaced by a cold, withering glare. “Careful now,” she hissed, her voice low and dangerous. “Ya might think you’ve got a bit of fire in ya, but I can snuff that out real quick. You’re only alive because I choose to keep you that way.” She stepped closer, so close I could feel the chill radiating from her, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. “Yer special blood don’t make ya untouchable.”

I swallowed hard, refusing to let her see my fear, but my heart pounded in my chest. “You can do whatever you want to me,” I said, barely above a whisper. “But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s not yours. Not really.” The room grew deathly silent. Johnny looked away, his shoulders slumping, his fists unclenching as his fingers splayed open, a small gesture of surrender. I could see the exhaustion weighing him down, the years of quiet suffering that had ground him into a mere shadow of who he might have been. But still, there was a spark left in him—a spark that Nancy couldn’t extinguish, no matter how hard she tried.

Nancy sneered, her eyes narrowing. “Y’er just a fly in a web, Sweetie,” she said, her voice dripping with contempt. “Thinkin’ you understand anything about strength, about power, about loyalty.” She scoffed, glancing back at Johnny. “He knows who he belongs to. Don’t ya, Johnny?”

Johnny’s gaze met mine for a fleeting, vulnerable second. I saw a storm of emotions—anger, shame, defiance. But then he turned to Nancy, his expression empty, hollow. “Yeah,” he said flatly, his voice a whisper of what it once was. “I know.”

A dark satisfaction crept across Nancy’s face, and she laughed, the sound cruel and final, as though she’d won some twisted game. “Good. Remember that.” She patted his shoulder, and he flinched under her touch but didn’t pull away. She cast one last disdainful glance at me before striding up the stairs, the vial of blood clutched protectively in her hand. As she disappeared from sight, the room seemed to breathe again, the suffocating weight of her presence lifting ever so slightly. Johnny was left standing there, his shoulders hunched, his face twisted with an emotion I couldn’t fully read. He looked… lost. I waited, watching him, sensing that some fragile thread of connection still lingered between us, something unspoken but potent. He turned slowly, his gaze meeting mine, and I saw the pain, the anger, the longing that Nancy’s departure had momentarily set free. He swallowed hard, his voice barely a whisper. “I… I’m sorry.”

I took a step closer, my voice soft. “Johnny… you don’t have to keep doing this. You don’t have to be her puppet.”

He looked away, the muscles in his jaw clenching and unclenching as he struggled with himself. “You don’t understand,” he muttered, his voice thick with bitterness. “She made me. Everything I am… it’s because of her. Without her, I’m… I’m nothin’.”

“But that’s not true,” I insisted, my voice gaining strength. “She didn’t make you who you are. She twisted you, yes, controlled you. But there’s still a part of you she hasn’t touched. I see it, Johnny. I see the person you could be without her.”

He flinched, the words hitting him like a physical blow. For a long, agonizing moment, he just stood there, wrestling with himself, his breathing ragged and shallow. “You… you don’t know what it’s like,” he said finally, his voice barely audible. “The things I’ve done, the people I’ve hurt…” He trailed off, his eyes haunted. “Maybe… maybe I don’t deserve anything else.”

My heart twisted at the resignation in his voice, the despair that had settled into his bones like a poison. “Johnny, everyone deserves a second chance. You’re more than what she’s made you. You’re not her monster. You’re… you’re someone who deserves to be free.” His red eyes flickered, a spark of something old and fragile breaking through the darkness. He shook his head, as though dismissing my words, but I could see the hesitation, the sliver of doubt worming its way into his mind. For the first time, the chains Nancy had wrapped around him seemed to loosen, just a fraction, and in that moment, I saw the real Johnny—the man hidden beneath the scars and the anger, the man she’d tried so hard to bury.

But then, as quickly as it had appeared, the spark faded. Johnny’s face hardened, the walls slamming back into place, and he took a step back, distancing himself. “I don’t need your pity,” he said, his voice cold, though it trembled at the edges. “You’re here ‘cause she wants you here. That’s all.”

I wanted to reach out, to bridge the distance between us, but I knew that any attempt would only drive him further away. So I nodded, forcing myself to hold his gaze, to let him see that I wasn’t giving up on him, even if he’d given up on himself. “I’ll be here, Johnny. No matter what she says, no matter what she does. You’re not alone.”

For a fleeting moment, something flickered in his eyes—gratitude, maybe, or perhaps just a glimmer of the hope he’d long buried. He turned away, his shoulders tense, his fists clenched, and left without another word, leaving me alone in the basement. The silence closed in, oppressive and thick, but I clung to the tiny spark I’d seen in him, the one that Nancy couldn’t crush, no matter how hard she tried. Because somewhere beneath the monster, buried under years of pain and control, there was still a man who longed for freedom. And I would find a way to bring him back, no matter the cost.

[Honestly this is the most fun I’ve had in a long time when it comes to writing so thank you so much to everyone for the support<3 I hope to post more soon so watch out lol:)]

Part 5

#johnny slaughter #texas chainsaw massacre #johnny sawyer #texas chainsaw game #fanfic #tcm game #drayton sawyer #vampire #nancy slaughter #tcm

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howietheslothful · 8 months ago

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The Midnight Pursuit pt 5

>Johnny Slaughter Vampire AU x Reader<

Synopsis: Johnny decides to open up to you, can you trust him?

~~~~~~

The cold chains bit into my wrists, rubbing the skin raw, but the numbness had spread so deep I barely felt the pain anymore. The darkness of the basement seemed to stretch endlessly, wrapping around me like a heavy blanket. The air was damp and frigid, and I could feel the chill seeping into my bones, turning my limbs stiff and unresponsive. I wasn’t sure how long I’d been down there—days, weeks, maybe even longer. Time had lost all meaning in the shadows. My mind drifted, caught in a haze of hunger and exhaustion, and I fought to hold on to even the smallest thread of hope. Every time the heavy door above me creaked open, I flinched, my heart pounding in my chest like a trapped bird. I’d tense, expecting the worst—another visit from Drayton, his eyes gleaming with malice, or Johnny, his rough hands dragging me out of the darkness for whatever twisted purpose he had in mind. But today was different. It wasn’t the dread that clawed at me. It was the silence. The space between the creaks of the old house above, the muffled voices that sometimes drifted down to me, had grown longer, stretching out until I couldn’t hear anything at all. For the first time in what felt like forever, there was no sound of footsteps above me, no whispered arguments slipping through the cracks. The house seemed to hold its breath, and in the silence, my thoughts grew louder, more insistent, demanding answers. I was left alone with my questions, and the one that burned the brightest, the one that twisted in my gut like a knife, was simple: why was Johnny acting so strange? The vampire who had chased me through the woods, his fangs bared and eyes alight with a wild hunger, had become... different. He wasn’t the same relentless predator who’d cornered me that night under the pale light of the moon. There was a softness to him now, a hesitation in his movements that hadn’t been there before. It was like watching a wolf try to pretend it was a dog. He hadn’t laid a hand on me in days, not since that violent clash with Drayton that had echoed through the house like thunder. Instead, he visited the basement with an almost unnerving regularity, sitting on the edge of the stairs, his gaze unreadable as he watched me. Sometimes, he brought food or water, sliding it toward me without a word, his face a mask of something I couldn’t quite place. Other times, he just sat there in the shadows, the weight of his silence pressing down on me, as if he were searching for something in my expression. His eyes held a strange intensity, a quiet struggle that flickered behind the hardened exterior he wore like armor. He never stayed long, never offered explanations, and whenever I tried to ask him why, he would just shake his head, his lips pressing into a thin, frustrated line.

I couldn’t make sense of it. I had been so sure, so certain that he was just another monster like Drayton, that his cruelty was as much a part of him as his fangs. But now, it was like I was seeing cracks in his mask, glimpses of something deeper that left me feeling more unsettled than ever. A few nights ago, when he’d brought me a cup of water, our fingers had brushed for the briefest moment. I had expected the touch to be cold, like ice, but it wasn’t. His skin was warm, almost... human. And the way he’d pulled his hand back, like the contact had startled him as much as it had me, had sent a shiver down my spine that I couldn’t quite shake.

It was like there were two different versions of Johnny—one that still carried the darkness that had chased me through the woods, and another that seemed... conflicted. It was a word that felt strange to associate with him, but there it was, hovering in my mind, refusing to leave me alone. And as much as I wanted to ignore it, to focus on my own survival, I couldn’t stop myself from wondering. Why had he stopped hurting me? Why did he look at me with something almost like regret when he thought I wasn’t paying attention? One evening, when the door finally creaked open, I heard footsteps—heavier and slower than before, dragging against the wooden stairs as if the weight of the world was pressing down on the person climbing them. My pulse quickened, a flicker of fear sparking in my chest, but there was a new sensation tangled with it—curiosity, a need to understand the man who had become my captor. Johnny emerged from the shadows of the stairwell, his expression shadowed and tight, his shoulders hunched forward. He looked exhausted, more human than I had ever seen him, and for a moment, I wondered if I was dreaming. He slumped down against the wall across from me, his usual composure cracked and brittle. His hands fidgeted in his lap, fingers twisting together, and he let out a long, shaky breath that seemed to carry years of unspoken burdens. It was such a stark contrast to the image I had of him—the confident, ruthless creature that had stalked me through the darkness—that I almost couldn’t believe he was the same person.

For a moment, I hesitated, unsure whether to break the silence or let it stretch on. But the need for answers burned in my chest, pushing me past my fear. I shifted slightly, the chains around my wrists clinking softly, and finally, I found my voice. "Why are you doin' this?" I asked, my voice rough from disuse, cracking with the effort of forming the words. They sounded small, fragile in the heavy air of the basement.

Johnny glanced at me, his expression tight and guarded. His eyes flicked over my face, searching for something, but I couldn’t tell if he found it. "Doin’ what?" His drawl wrapped around the words, slow and thick like molasses, slipping through the cracks in the silence.

"Actin' like you care," I said, forcing myself to hold his gaze even as my throat tightened. My mouth was dry, my lips cracked from thirst, but I pressed on. "Why didn’t you kill me like you wanted to before?"

His jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck going taut, and for a long moment, he didn’t answer. The silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating, but I refused to back down. His face twisted, like he was struggling with something too tangled to put into words, and then, with a heavy sigh, he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "Ain’t that simple," he muttered, the words barely more than a whisper, but there was a roughness to his voice, like he was scraping against the edges of a wound that had never fully healed.

"Then make it simple," I pressed, desperation creeping into my voice. I knew I was pushing him, maybe more than I should have. But I had nothing left to lose. "Why did you stop? Why are you here, Johnny?"

He stared at the floor, the shadows playing across his face, and for a moment, I thought he’d brush me off again. But something shifted in his posture, like he was fighting some inner battle, and finally, he spoke, his voice low and rough. "It’s ’cause of her," he said, almost as if he were confessing a sin. "’Cause of *Nancy*."

The name hit me like a punch to the gut, the sound of it echoing in my mind. I had heard Drayton mention her before in passing, his casual remarks always tinged with a strange fondness, but I had never met her. From what I could gather, Nancy was Drayton’s partner—or whatever vampires called each other in their twisted version of a relationship. But the way Johnny said her name, there was a sharpness to it, a pain that cut through his otherwise emotionless demeanor.

"Nancy?" I repeated, my voice barely more than a whisper, laced with confusion. "What does she have to do with this?"

Johnny’s lips curled into a bitter smile, though there was no humor in it. His eyes gleamed with a haunted light, like he was seeing something I couldn’t. "Everythin'. She’s the one who turned me."

My breath caught. That was a detail I hadn’t expected. Johnny wasn’t just another vampire made by Drayton; there was more to this twisted family than I’d realized. I stayed silent, waiting for him to continue, my heart pounding in my chest. He was opening up in a way that made my skin tingle with unease, like I was peering into a part of him I was never meant to see. He leaned back against the wall, his gaze distant, as though he was lost in a memory that had been buried for too long. "I wasn’t always like this. I had a life once. A real life. My mama... she was all I had, never knew my daddy. We didn’t have much, but we got by. I was just a kid when she was murdered." His voice cracked slightly, and he cleared his throat, as if trying to push the emotion back down. I blinked, the weight of his words sinking in like stones in my stomach. Johnny had a past. A mother. And then... murder? The image of the ruthless, cold-hearted vampire wavered, replaced by something rawer, more broken.

"Who killed her?" I asked quietly, the question slipping out before I could stop myself.

Johnny’s eyes darkened, the rage in them unmistakable, like a storm brewing just beneath the surface. "Nancy. She killed my mama. Don’t know why—maybe it was just for sport, maybe she was bored. She never explained, and I never got the chance to ask. Afterward, she found me. Turned me. I was too weak to stop her. Too angry to resist. I guess she thought I’d make a better toy than a corpse."

I tried to imagine it—Johnny, young and full of life, maybe just a boy struggling to make sense of his world, and then Nancy, sweeping in like a storm to rip it all away. My stomach churned at the thought, a mix of pity and fear twisting inside me. "And now she’s with Drayton?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper, as if saying it louder would make it more real.

Johnny nodded, the bitterness in his voice deepening, like poison seeping into every word. "Yeah. They’re together. If you can call it that. Drayton… he’s got his own reasons for keepin' her around. But every time I see her, all I can think about is what she did to my mama. What she made me into. All these scars she gave me..." He touched his own chest lightly, where a faint line ran down his collarbone, as if remembering the pain. His confession hung in the air like a dark cloud, filling the space between us with a heaviness I didn’t know how to break. For the first time, I saw Johnny not as the monster who had chased me, but as something more tragic—a man trapped in a nightmare, one created by the very woman who was now his apparent father figure’s partner.

"Why do you stay?" I asked softly, my voice barely more than a whisper. "Why not just leave?"

Johnny’s eyes flickered with something I couldn’t quite name—regret, perhaps, or maybe resignation. "I’ve tried. But Drayton’s got power. And as much as I hate to admit it, I need him. Without him, I’d be hunted. Alone. Least here, I got some kinda... control."

"Control?" I echoed, incredulous. "You call this control? You’re as much a prisoner as I am." He flinched at my words, and I could see the truth in his eyes. He knew I was right.

"I didn’t ask for any of this," he said quietly, his voice thick with the weight of years. "But here I am. And now... now you’re caught up in it, too."

"Why did Nancy turn you?" I asked, the question burning in my mind. "Why not just kill you, like she did with your mom?"

Johnny’s face twisted with frustration. "I’ve asked myself that for years. Maybe she thought I’d be useful. Maybe she enjoyed watchin' me suffer. Or maybe..." He paused, his gaze dropping to the floor, as if the answer he was about to give held a truth too painful to admit. "Maybe she was lonely, in her own twisted way. Like she wanted a companion, but didn’t know how to have one without destroyin' everything they loved first."

He let out a bitter laugh, a sound that sent a shiver down my spine. It was the laugh of a man who had seen too much, lost too much, and didn’t know how to find his way back to anything resembling hope. For the first time since I’d been dragged into this hell, I saw the cracks in the world I thought I understood. Johnny wasn’t just a monster. He was a victim too, trapped in a cycle of violence and betrayal, tied to the very creatures who had ruined his life. And now I was tangled up in their twisted web, caught between the shadows and the secrets that bound them all. We sat there in silence, the weight of his confession settling over us like dust. And as I looked at Johnny, really looked at him, I realized that maybe, just maybe, he was searching for a way out. A way to break the chains that bound him to his past, to Nancy, to Drayton. And maybe, just maybe, I was his only chance. Johnny’s gaze lingered on the shadows that stretched across the basement floor, his face etched with a weariness that seemed to go deeper than any of the scars he carried. For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The weight of his confession hung between us, like a bridge between two people who had never imagined they’d find any common ground. I couldn’t help but wonder if he was thinking about what might have been, about the life he’d lost before the darkness swallowed him whole. When he finally spoke again, his voice was softer, almost fragile—so different from the gruff, rough-edged drawl I’d come to expect. It was like he was letting me in on a secret he had buried so deep even he was afraid of unearthing it. "You ever dream about a life that ain’t this one?" he asked, his tone raw and distant, like he was speaking more to himself than to me. I stayed silent, unsure of where he was going, but I felt the pull of his words, like they were tugging at a part of me I thought I’d forgotten. He let out a breath, and then he spoke again, his voice low and rough, like he was dredging up something painful from deep inside.

"Sometimes, when it’s quiet, when there ain’t nobody around to remind me of all the things I done, I... I dream about a different life. A life where I’m... good." He shook his head, like the idea was so foreign it almost hurt to think about. "I know it sounds stupid, but I see it clear as day sometimes. I see myself with a family, a wife, and kids. The kind of life I thought I’d have back when I was just a kid myself, before all this happened."

His voice grew quieter, as if he was afraid the very walls might judge him for the words he was about to speak. "I see myself sittin’ on a porch somewhere, watchin’ my kids run around in the yard, their laughter fillin’ the air. And I’m there with ’em, holdin’ my little girl in my arms, feelin’ the sun on my face. And there’s this woman... my wife. I don’t even know what she looks like, but she’s got this smile that makes me feel like I ain’t broken, like I could be somethin' better. Like I could take care of ’em, keep ’em safe, make sure they never have to know the things I’ve seen.” He paused, a shaky breath slipping past his lips, and his hands clenched into fists on his knees, as if he was trying to hold onto the dream before it slipped away. "I think about teachin’ my boy how to fish, like my mama tried to teach me before she was taken from me. Makin’ sure he knows how to be strong, how to be kind, how to protect the ones he loves. And I think about my little girl, how I’d tell her she’s got nothin' to be afraid of, ’cause her daddy’s always gonna be there. Ain’t no monsters in the dark when I’m around.”

His voice hitched, and he glanced away, his jaw clenching like he was fighting back emotions he hadn’t let himself feel in a long time. "I think about tellin’ ’em stories, tucking ’em into bed at night, lettin' ’em know they’re safe and loved. That no matter what, I’m gonna be there for ’em. I’d give anything to be that kind of man. To be a father who ain’t full of violence and hate, who’s got somethin’ real to offer."

There was a bitterness in his tone now, a sadness that twisted his features into something almost unrecognizable. "But that’s just a dream, ain’t it? Ain’t no place for a man like me in a world like that. Not after all the blood I got on my hands. Not with Nancy and Drayton holdin’ my leash, remindin' me every day what I am." He let out a harsh, broken laugh that echoed through the basement, filled with more pain than humor. "It’s stupid, thinkin' I could be somethin' better. That I could ever be anythin' but the monster they made me." I watched him, my heart pounding in my chest as his words seeped into me. There was a desperation in his voice that I recognized, a hunger for something better, for a life that wasn’t defined by pain and shadows. And as I looked at him, sitting there in the darkness, I couldn’t help but see a flicker of that dream in his eyes, a fragile hope that refused to die, no matter how much he tried to bury it.

"It ain’t stupid," I said quietly, surprising myself with the softness in my voice. "Wantin’ somethin' better for yourself, for the people you care about—it ain’t stupid, Johnny. Maybe... maybe it’s the only thing keepin' you from bein' the monster they want you to be." He turned to me, his eyes searching mine, as if he was trying to see if I meant what I said. For a moment, I thought I saw a glimmer of something like hope in his expression, a tiny spark that might still have a chance to catch fire. But then, just as quickly, his face hardened again, and he looked away, shaking his head like he was trying to dispel a dream he had no right to hold onto.

"Maybe," he muttered, his voice barely more than a whisper, carrying the weight of a thousand regrets. "But dreams don’t keep the dark away. They don’t change what I’ve done." But as I watched him, sitting there in the shadows, I couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, he wanted to believe otherwise. That there was a part of him that still clung to the idea of that porch, that laughter, that warmth—a future where he wasn’t just another piece of the nightmare he’d been trapped in for so long. Johnny took a deep breath, and the tension in his shoulders seemed to loosen, just for a moment. He turned back toward me, his gaze softer than it had been before, like the weight of his confession had lifted something, even if just a little. The flickering light from the single bulb cast shadows across his face, highlighting the exhaustion in his eyes.

"Thank ya," he said quietly, his Southern drawl laced with a raw sincerity. "For listenin’ to all that. I don’t... I don’t reckon I’ve ever told anyone about those dreams before. Probably sounded like a fool, spillin’ all that to you." He let out a small, humorless chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck.

I shook my head, offering him a small, tentative smile. "You didn’t sound foolish, Johnny." He met my eyes, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of something that almost looked like gratitude. But then, just as quickly, he looked away, his expression hardening once more as he straightened up, like he was putting a mask back on. He glanced toward the stairs, his mouth set in a thin line.

"Sorry if I made ya uncomfortable, talkin’ about all that stuff," he mumbled, the awkwardness creeping back into his voice. "Ain’t what I meant to do. Just... it’s been a long time since anyone’s listened to me like that." He took a step back, the shadows swallowing up the edges of his frame as he moved toward the stairs. "I’ll leave ya be now. Get some rest if ya can. I’ll... I’ll be back later."

With that, Johnny turned and headed up the stairs, his footsteps heavy against the creaking wood. He paused at the top, glancing back at me one last time, his expression caught between regret and something almost like hope. Then, without another word, he slipped through the door, leaving me alone in the cold, dark basement once again. The silence that followed felt heavier than before, pressing in around me, but it wasn’t quite the same as it had been. The darkness still loomed, but Johnny’s words lingered like a distant warmth, a reminder that even in this place, there were cracks where the light could slip through. And as I wrapped my arms around myself, I held onto that small, fragile spark, wondering if it might someday grow into something more.

[Thank you and goodnight, cuties :*]

Part 4

#johnny slaughter #texas chainsaw massacre #johnny sawyer #texas chainsaw game #fanfic #tcm game #drayton sawyer #vampire #nancy slaughter #tcm #tcm fanfic #cannibalcore

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howietheslothful · 9 months ago

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The Midnight Pursuit pt 4

>Johnny Slaughter Vampire AU x Reader<

Synopsis: Drayton sees something in you, and he’s going to drain it slowly from you if he has to..

~~~~~~

As darkness slowly gave way to hazy awareness, I could hear muffled voices above me. My head throbbed, and my limbs felt heavier than before. The dull ache in my arm reminded me of the syringe Drayton had used. I forced my eyes open, the dim light of the basement swimming back into focus. The chains still bound me, their cold bite a harsh reminder that I was far from free. Above me, footsteps echoed again. This time, there were two distinct voices. One was Drayton’s, smooth and casual, but the other was younger, sharper, filled with resentment. The vampire who had chased me.

"You're wasting time, old man," the younger one snapped. "We should've drained her by now. You’re being far too soft with her."

Drayton’s voice responded, calm and composed. "Patience, boy. You’re too impulsive. She’s valuable in ways you don’t yet understand."

"I don’t care about her ‘potential,’" the younger vampire spat. "We should’ve already taken what we needed and been done with it!"

The door to the basement creaked open, and I saw Drayton step in first, followed closely by the vampire who had hunted me through the woods. The look on his face was pure fury, his eyes burning red, lips pulled back in a snarl.

"You need to learn to control that temper of yours, Johnny," Drayton said coolly, glancing at him over his shoulder. "It’s unbecoming of our kind."

Johnny—the vampire who had terrorized me—stalked closer, his eyes locking onto mine with a look of savage hunger. "She got away from me once, and you’re just keeping her down here like a pet. This is insane!"

I shrank back as far as the chains would allow, my breath catching in my throat as his glare intensified. He was more dangerous than I realized, and now, seeing him up close in the dim light, I could sense the deep tension between him and Drayton. They weren’t just family. There was bad blood between them.

Drayton sighed, placing the syringe back on the table, unfazed by Johnny’s anger. "You’re thinking like a predator, Johnny. I’m thinking long term. She’s not just any bloodbag, and draining her all at once would be a waste."

Johnny’s face twisted into a sneer. "Spare me the lecture. I’m not like you, Old Man. I’m not here to play games. She's nothing more than food to us!"

The words sent a shiver through me, but Drayton remained calm. His voice grew colder, though, as he met Johnny’s gaze. "You may be my stepson, but don’t mistake my kindness for weakness. You’d do well to listen, boy, before you ruin everything."

Johnny growled, stepping closer to Drayton, clearly fed up with his restraint. "I didn’t ask to be part of your twisted family. You might control this little corner of the world, but you don’t control me."

Drayton’s eyes narrowed. "If it weren’t for me, you’d still be the pathetic little human Nancy found, begging for a scrap of power. Don’t forget that."

Johnny’s lip curled, and I could see the conflict burning between them. Whatever bond they had, it was fragile, barely holding together under the weight of their shared hunger for power and control.

Johnny turned his attention back to me, stepping forward until he was looming over where I sat, chained to the wall. His fangs flashed as he grinned cruelly. "Let’s see if she’s really as special as you think."

He moved so fast I barely had time to react before his hand wrapped around my throat, squeezing tight enough to cut off my air. I struggled, gasping for breath, panic rising in me like a tidal wave. He leaned in close, his breath hot against my skin. "Maybe I'll have a taste for myself."

But before he could sink his fangs into my neck, Drayton’s hand shot out, gripping Johnny’s arm with a force that sent cracks rippling through the air. Johnny froze, his eyes wide in shock.

"I said, patience," Drayton growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. He squeezed Johnny’s arm harder, and I heard the sickening snap of bone. Johnny howled in pain, stumbling back, clutching his arm.

"You bastard!" Johnny hissed, his face contorted in pain and rage.

Drayton’s expression was cold, his eyes glowing with a dangerous intensity. "You forget your place, Johnny. We gave you this life. Don’t make us regret it."

Johnny’s eyes blazed with hatred, but he backed down, cradling his injured arm. "One day, old man, you won’t be the one giving orders. And when that day comes, I’ll make sure she’s the first thing I take from you." He spat the words, glaring at me like I was an object to be claimed.

Drayton didn’t flinch. "You can try, boy. But until then, you’ll follow my rules, or I’ll break more than your arm next time."

Johnny’s eyes lingered on me, his expression dark and menacing, but he turned and stormed out of the basement without another word. The door slammed shut behind him, leaving me alone with Drayton.

Drayton exhaled, rubbing his temples as if exhausted by the confrontation. "Apologies," he said after a moment, his tone back to its measured calm. "Johnny has... issues with authority."

I glared at him, my throat still sore from Johnny’s grip. "And what about me?" I rasped. "What am I to you?"

Drayton crouched down in front of me, his eyes softening again, though I could see the faint glimmer of something much darker beneath the surface. "You," he said slowly, "are the key to everything. Johnny doesn’t understand, but in time, you will. Your blood is unlike anything we’ve ever seen, and with it, we’ll reshape this world."

I shuddered, the full weight of his words sinking in. Whatever Drayton had planned, it was far worse than anything I’d imagined.

And somehow, I was at the center of it all.

[Again, thank you for reading! From here on out my parts are going to be longer than they have been so stay tuned!:)]

Part 3

#johnny slaughter #texas chainsaw massacre #johnny sawyer #texas chainsaw game #fanfic #tcm game #drayton sawyer #movies #vampire #johnny slaughter x reader #johnny sawyer x reader #slow burn

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howietheslothful · 9 months ago

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The Midnight Pursuit pt 3

>Johnny Slaughter Vampire AU x Reader<

Synopsis: you’ve fallen into another deep hole, will you be able to climb yourself out?

~~~~~~

For the first time since the chase began, a glimmer of hope pierced through the terror. I wasn't alone anymore. Together, we might just have a chance.

The vampire outside continued to pound on the door, each blow sending shockwaves through the small cabin. "You think you can protect her, old man?" he snarled. "You're making a mistake."

The old man glanced at me, his eyes softening with concern. "Stay behind me," he said quietly. "Whatever happens, do not open this door."

I nodded, backing away as he moved to reinforce the door with a heavy wooden beam. The pounding continued, more frantic and enraged. The old man stood firm, his gaze never wavering.

Minutes felt like hours as we waited, the tension in the cabin thick and suffocating. Finally, the pounding stopped. The silence that followed was almost worse, filled with an eerie sense of anticipation.

"Is he gone?" I whispered, my voice trembling.

The old man didn't answer immediately. He kept his gaze fixed on the door, listening intently. "For now," he said finally. "But he'll be back. They always come back."

I swallowed hard, my mind racing with questions. "Who are you?" I asked. "Why are you helping me?"

He looked at me then, his eyes deep and unreadable. "Name's Drayton," he said simply. "I've been dealing with creatures like him for a long time."

I nodded, feeling a surge of gratitude. "Thank you," I said. "I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't—"

A sudden crash interrupted my words. The window shattered, and the vampire burst into the cabin, a feral grin on his face. "Did you really think you could hide from me?" he hissed.

Drayton moved with surprising speed, raising the shotgun and firing. The blast hit the vampire square in the chest, but it only staggered him for a moment. He growled, eyes blazing with fury.

"You'll pay for that, old man," the vampire snarled, lunging at Drayton.

The two collided, a blur of movement and violence. I watched, frozen in shock as they grappled, the shotgun falling to the floor with a clatter. Drayton fought with a strength that belied his age, matching the vampire's ferocity blow for blow.

As they struggled, something strange happened. Drayton's eyes began to change, darkening to a deep crimson. His teeth lengthened, fangs emerging with a glint. My breath caught in my throat as I realized the truth: Drayton was a vampire too.

He shoved the younger vampire back, his voice a low growl. "You should have stayed away," he said. "This one's under my protection."

The younger vampire sneered, wiping blood from his mouth. "You're a traitor to our kind, Drayton. Protecting humans? Pathetic."

Drayton's eyes flickered to me, a silent apology in their depths. "Some things are worth protecting," he said.

The younger vampire lunged again, but Drayton was ready. He moved with lightning speed, grabbing the vampire and twisting, a sickening snap echoing through the cabin. The vampire crumpled to the floor, motionless.

Breathing heavily, Drayton turned to me. "Are you all right?" he asked, his voice softer now.

I nodded, my mind reeling. "You're a vampire," I said, the words feeling strange on my tongue.

He sighed, his expression weary. "Yes," he admitted. "I didn't want you to find out like this."

I took a step back, my heart pounding. "Why are you helping me?" I asked again, more urgently this time.

Drayton's gaze softened. "Not all vampires are like him," he said. "Some of us still remember what it means to be human."

I stared at him, struggling to process everything. The terror, the chase, the unexpected ally—I felt like I was trapped in a nightmare I couldn't wake from.

Drayton took a cautious step forward. "I know it's a lot to take in," he said gently. "But you're safe now. I promise."

Despite everything, I felt a flicker of trust. He had saved me, after all. And for now, that was enough.

As I caught my breath, I noticed Drayton's eyes lingering on the fallen vampire. Something about his expression made me uneasy, but I pushed the thought aside. "What do we do now?" I asked.

Drayton's smile was thin and devoid of warmth. "We wait until morning. Vampires are weaker then. We'll find a safe place for you to hide."

I nodded, exhausted and desperate for any semblance of safety. Drayton helped me to a chair and handed me a blanket. "Rest. You'll need your strength."

I closed my eyes, trying to calm my racing heart. The cabin was quiet now, the only sound the crackling of the fire. I felt Drayton's presence nearby, a comforting if strange reassurance.

But as I drifted towards sleep, I heard a faint whisper. "You did well, Johnny. She never suspected a thing."

My eyes snapped open, and I saw Drayton standing over the younger vampire, who was somehow still alive, albeit barely. Drayton's expression was cold, calculating. "She'll be a fine addition to our family," he murmured.

I tried to move, to cry out, but my body was paralyzed with fear. Drayton turned, his eyes meeting mine, the kindness gone. "Sleep now, my dear," he said softly. "You'll understand soon enough."

Darkness closed in, and I felt a sickening realization: I had run straight into another nightmare.

When I woke up, my body felt heavy, like every muscle was weighed down by something invisible. My head throbbed, and for a moment, everything was a blur—blinding white flashes danced behind my eyelids. Then, as my senses sharpened, I became aware of the cold, damp air clinging to my skin.

The smell hit me first—mildew, old wood, and something faintly metallic. My eyes fluttered open, and I blinked, trying to make sense of where I was. The ceiling above me was low, made of rough stone, and the only light came from a flickering bulb dangling from a single cord.

I tried to move, but my wrists and ankles were shackled, chained to the wall behind me. Panic surged through my veins as I tugged against the restraints, the metal biting into my skin. My breath quickened, heart pounding in my chest. I was in some sort of basement, dark and forgotten.

I twisted my head, searching for any sign of a way out. The room was bare except for an old wooden table in the corner, cluttered with rusty tools and what looked like surgical instruments. The sight of them made my stomach turn. My mind raced as I tried to recall what had happened. The cabin. Drayton. The vampire.

"Drayton..." I whispered, dread creeping over me as the memory flooded back. He wasn’t a savior. He was a monster too. And now I was trapped, caught in his web.

Footsteps echoed above, the creaking of old wood as someone descended the stairs. I stiffened, my heart racing as the door to the basement groaned open. Drayton stood at the top of the stairs, his silhouette framed by the dim light from above. His smile was wide, far too wide for comfort.

"Ah, you're awake," he said casually, descending the stairs with a leisurely grace. He carried a tray with a glass of water and what looked like a small bowl of soup. "I thought you might be hungry after your... ordeal."

I glared at him, yanking on the chains again, even though it was useless. "Let me go," I spat, my voice trembling with a mix of fear and fury.

Drayton chuckled, setting the tray down on the table. "Now, now, there's no need for that. You're safe here. For now." He walked over to me, crouching down to my level. His eyes glinted with a dark amusement, and I could see the fangs, sharp and gleaming behind his smile.

"Safe?" I scoffed, struggling to suppress the rising panic. "You're just like him. You lied to me."

Drayton tilted his head, his smile never wavering. "I didn’t lie. I told you I’ve been dealing with creatures like him for a long time. The difference is, I’m very much like him. He’s family."

My stomach twisted at the word "family."

"You see," Drayton continued, his voice low and smooth, "we've been looking for someone like you for quite some time. A bloodbag, as my dear cousin called you." He glanced back toward the stairs. "Though, I suppose I should say *special* bloodbag."

I narrowed my eyes, not understanding. "What are you talking about?"

He stood up, circling me like a predator eyeing its prey. "You're not just any human," he explained, his tone now more serious. "Your blood... it's different. Unique. And in our world, that makes you very valuable."

My heart pounded, fear crawling up my spine. "Different? What do you mean?"

Drayton stopped in front of me again, leaning down so our faces were inches apart. "It’s not often we come across someone with blood potent enough to enhance our abilities. Stronger, faster, more resilient. You, my dear, are a rare find."

My stomach dropped as the truth sank in. I wasn’t just a prisoner—I was a resource, something to be drained and used. "You’re not going to get away with this," I whispered, though my voice wavered.

Drayton laughed, standing up and crossing his arms. "Get away with it? Oh, darling, this is only the beginning. Soon, you'll be a part of the family."

I struggled against the chains, the metal scraping against the stone. "I'd rather die."

His smile faded, replaced by a chilling calm. "That’s not up to you. In fact, once we’re done with you, you’ll beg for it. But first..." He turned to the table, picking up a small syringe. "We have to prepare you. After all, family dinners can be so... draining."

I recoiled as he approached, holding the syringe. "Stay away from me!" I screamed, tugging desperately at the chains. But it was no use. I was trapped.

Drayton crouched down beside me again, his voice soft but sinister. "Shh. It’ll only hurt for a moment." He pressed the needle against my skin, his other hand holding me still.

As the needle pierced my arm, darkness crept at the edges of my vision, my body growing weaker by the second. My last conscious thought was the sound of Drayton’s voice, whispering in my ear: "Welcome to the family."

And then, everything went black.

[I hope y’all enjoyed!:) Check out the other parts below!]

Part 1, Part 2

#johnny slaughter #texas chainsaw massacre #johnny sawyer #texas chainsaw game #fanfic #tcm game #slow burn #drayton sawyer #Johnny slaughter x reader #johnny sawyer x reader

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howietheslothful · 9 months ago

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The Midnight Pursuit pt 2

>Johnny Slaughter Vampire AU x reader<

Synopsis: You run through a dark forest, pursued by a sinister figure. Desperation fuels your every step as the danger closes in, inching closer with each breath.

~~~~~~

The words slithered through the air, seeping into my very bones. The man—or whatever he was—spoke with a dark promise that chilled me to my core. His words ignited a fresh wave of panic. I had to get away. I had to escape this nightmare. I veered sharply to the right, darting through a narrow gap between two trees. The branches reached out like skeletal fingers, tearing at my clothes and leaving scratches on my exposed skin. I gritted my teeth against the pain, focusing on putting as much distance between us as possible. The laughter continued, a constant reminder that he was right behind me. My heart pounded in my chest, a relentless drumbeat that matched the rhythm of my frantic footsteps. The forest seemed to close in tighter, the trees pressing in around me as if they too were part of his cruel game. I stumbled over a root, my ankle twisting painfully as I fell to the ground. A sharp cry escaped my lips before I could stifle it. I scrambled to my feet, but the momentary delay had cost me dearly. I could hear his footsteps now, closing in with terrifying speed. Panic surged, giving me a burst of energy as I pushed forward. My eyes darted around, searching for any possible escape route. I spotted a narrow ravine up ahead, the steep sides offering a potential hiding place. Without thinking, I sprinted towards it, hoping against hope that I could lose him in the narrow confines.

I reached the edge and leapt, my body sailing through the air before crashing down on the rocky ground below. Pain shot through my limbs, but I forced myself to keep moving, crawling along the ravine floor as quickly as I could. The laughter grew louder, echoing off the walls of the ravine. I glanced over my shoulder and saw him, standing at the edge and looking down at me with a predatory grin. There was no escape. He would be on me in seconds. Desperation clawed at my mind. I spotted a cluster of boulders up ahead, creating a small gap that I might be able to squeeze through. I crawled towards it, my breaths coming in ragged gasps. If I could just make it there, maybe I could hide long enough for him to lose interest.

I reached the boulders and wedged myself into the gap, the rough stone scraping against my skin. I held my breath, praying that he wouldn't find me. But the laughter continued, a cruel reminder that he was still out there, hunting me. Seconds stretched into eternity as I lay there, every muscle tense. I could hear his footsteps now, moving closer. The ravine offered little cover, and I knew it was only a matter of time before he found me. Suddenly, the laughter stopped. The silence was even more terrifying than the sound. I strained to listen, my heart pounding in my ears. Had he given up? Was he playing another cruel trick?

A shadow fell over the gap, and I looked up to see his face, twisted with a triumphant grin. He reached down and grabbed me, his grip like iron. I struggled, but it was no use. He was too strong. "Got you," he whispered, his breath hot against my ear. He yanked me out of the gap, pulling me to my feet. I fought with every ounce of strength I had left, but it wasn't enough. He easily overpowered me, forcing me to the ground. I landed hard, the impact knocking the wind out of me. He was on me in an instant, his weight pinning me down. I gasped for air, my vision swimming as I looked up into his eyes. They were dark and full of hunger.

"Now," he said, his voice a low growl. "Let's see what kind of prize I've caught."

Terror surged through me, but there was no escape. I was at his mercy, and he had none to give. His grin widened, revealing fangs that gleamed in the pale moonlight. I struggled beneath him, adrenaline surging through my veins, but his grip was unyielding. Panic clawed at my mind as I realized the futility of my efforts.

"Please," I gasped, my voice barely above a whisper. "Don't do this."

He chuckled, a dark and mirthless sound. "Oh, but I will. You're mine now."

He lowered his head, his breath hot against my neck. I braced myself for the sharp pain of his bite, but instead, he hesitated. His head snapped up, eyes narrowing as he looked around. I heard it too—a faint rustling in the distance, followed by the unmistakable sound of footsteps. The distraction was all I needed. Summoning every last ounce of strength, I wrenched my arm free and swung it at his face. My fist connected with a satisfying thud, and he recoiled, momentarily stunned. Seizing the opportunity, I scrambled out from under him and took off running once more. My legs felt like lead, but I forced them to move. The footsteps behind me grew louder, accompanied by angry shouts. I didn't dare look back; I focused on the path ahead, darting between trees and over roots.

Suddenly, the forest opened up, revealing a clearing bathed in moonlight. My heart leaped with hope—maybe I could find help, or at least a place to hide. I sprinted towards the open space, but just as I reached the edge, a figure emerged from the shadows, blocking my path. It was him, the monster, his face twisted with fury. He lunged at me, but this time I was ready. I dodged to the side, his claws grazing my arm as I slipped past him. The clearing offered no refuge, so I veered left, heading back into the thick forest. My lungs burned and my muscles screamed in protest, but I couldn't stop. I had to keep moving. The forest was a maze, and I could only hope to find a way out before he caught me again. The underbrush thinned, and I found myself on a narrow path winding through the trees. I followed it, my ears straining for any sound of pursuit. The path led to a rocky outcrop, and I scrambled up, using my hands to steady myself on the uneven surface. I reached the top and paused, gasping for breath. Below, I saw him, his silhouette stark against the moonlit forest. He scanned the area, his movements predatory and deliberate. I pressed myself against the rocks, praying he wouldn't look up.

For a moment, it seemed like he might pass by, but then his head snapped in my direction. Our eyes met, and a savage grin spread across his face. He leaped up the rocks with inhuman agility, closing the distance between us in seconds. Panic surged through me. There was nowhere to run. I braced myself as he lunged, but this time I was ready for him. As he reached for me, I dropped to the ground, rolling out of his grasp. He stumbled, momentarily off balance. I didn't wait to see if he recovered. I pushed myself to my feet and ran again, my heart pounding in my ears. The forest seemed endless, a never-ending labyrinth of shadows and fear. But I couldn't give up. I couldn't let him win. Ahead, I saw a faint light filtering through the trees. A house? A cabin? Hope flared in my chest, and I pushed myself harder, racing towards the light. The path opened up, revealing a small clearing with a rustic cabin in the center.

I stumbled to the door, banging on it with all my strength. "Help! Please, help me!"

The door creaked open, and an elderly man peered out, his eyes widening in surprise. "What on earth—"

"Please, he's coming!" I gasped, pushing past him into the cabin. "You have to help me!"

The man looked past me, his face paling as he saw the figure approaching the clearing. He nodded grimly and shut the door, bolting it with practiced ease.

"Stay back," he said, reaching for a shotgun mounted on the wall. "You're safe here."

I backed away, my heart still racing. The vampire reached the cabin, his face contorted with rage. He pounded on the door, the wood creaking under the force.

"You can't hide from me!" he snarled. "I'll tear this place apart!"

The old man leveled the shotgun at the door, his hands steady. "Not tonight, you won't."

[Thank you for reading! Lmk if you’d like more parts!)]

Part 1, Part 3

#johnny slaughter #texas chainsaw massacre #johnny sawyer #texas chainsaw game #fanfic #nubbins sawyer #bubba sawyer #drayton sawyer #sissy slaughter #nancy slaughter #tcm #tcm game #slow burn

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