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rottenstrawberrymilk · 28 days ago

Text

sleeping

slasher x reader

michael myers (halloween), jason voorhees (friday the 13th), thomas hewitt (texas chainsaw massacre), brahms heelshire (the boy), pyramid head (silent hill), chris walker (outlast), daniel robitaille (candyman), harry warden (my bloody valentine), bo sinclair (house of wax), bubba sawyer (texas chainsaw massacre), kazan yamaoka ('the oni' dead by daylight), philip ojomo ('the wraith' dead by daylight), quentin shermer ('the blissfield butcher' freaky)

preferences

not healthy not condoned

Michael Myers

Michael sleeps like a fucking plank. Back flat to the mattress, facing straight up, arms stiff at his side, like he doesn't know how to sleep like a normal human being. If you're lucky, sometimes he'll close his eyes, but for the most part he just stares up at the ceiling, breathing heavy throughout the night. He won't take off his mask either, so that doesn't help at all.

Something about the embodiment of pure evil laying motionless at your side just keeps you up and you can't sleep unless he's sleeping. You absolutely refuse to let your guard down when he's awake near you on the off chance he decides he's tired of you and wants you dead.

It kept you awake for the first few nights and you considered asking him to go sleep on the couch a couple of times. You know now he's lying there awake for no other reason than to keep you awake as well. He's a spiteful fucking bitch like that. If something bothers you, he actually goes out of his way to continue doing it. Just his sense of humor apparently. Making you miserable seems to be a kink of his.

Trying to leave doesn't work either. If you get up to go sleep on the couch instead, you probably won't even make it to the living room. He'll grab you by your arm as your leaving the bedroom and yank you back onto the mattress and then not let go of your wrist for the rest of the night. And if by some chance you do actually make it to the couch, he'll just pick you up off of it (doesn't matter if you're actually asleep or not) and carry you back to bed. If you're somehow still asleep, it wakes you up most of the time. There's been very few times where his manhandling hasn't woken you up.

You notice you have significantly more nightmares with him around. Often, you wake up shaking or gasping for breath, even though you hate looking weak or vulnerable around him. You pull it together as quickly as you can and hope the dark circles don't show as obviously in the morning. Concealer is becoming your best friend realll quickly.

Michael knows he's the cause of them and obviously is fine with it. He might even be pleased with it. You're not actually sure, he's fucking impossible to read. You don't really want to be able to read him anyways because it means you've gone out of your way to be close to him which you never want to happen.

Still, there's occasional night terrors that he knows he doesn't cause. He can tell which ones they are based on whether or not you reach over to check if he's still in bed next to you. You're not the cuddly sort, at least not with Michael, so he knows it has to be somehow worse than him for you to want to willingly touch him or seek out any sort of comfort from him being there. He allows you to hold onto his arm--maybe his hand if you're lucky during those nights. And the two of you just lay in silence as you blink back tears and try not to sniffle too loud.

Sometimes like once a week he actually does seem to sleep. You're normally not awake to notice this, but a couple of times you've caught him.

Michael isn't one to have nightmares because he's usually the one causing them, but there are nights where he dreams and wakes up not remembering. And he's left with an awful feeling that is very very different from his usual black numbness. It's gone quicker than it comes, but the fact that it's able to happen at all is...odd.

He'll put a hand over your neck and feel your pulse increase if you're awake. It's a familiar feeling. A way to remind himself of what he's capable of and it makes the feeling in his chest go away. It makes him feel powerful again. You don't like it, but some part of you knows it comforts him in some sick way. It's not like you can just swat his hand away anyways unless you want the knife in your throat instead.

All you can do is lay still as his grip tightens slightly every now and then and your heart rate spikes. His thumb rubs slowly under your jaw, against the skin of your neck.

Jason Voorhees

Jason doesn't really need to sleep, but he does like to rest sometimes after rough nights when he's aching and hurting. Mostly, he just lays there, staring at the ceiling, breathing raggedly. Originally, this concerned you, but eventually you just realized after decades of being drowned or choked or killed in various ways he just...sounded like that.

He used to hold his machete when he rested, but now he holds you too. The machete can go in the other hand because he's not letting go of it while he has his guard down. Usually, it's rested over your side or overtop your back. It used to make you nervous, but now it's basically like a weighted blanket to you.

Normally, you sleep with your face to his chest, head bowed, fingers gripping loosely at his torn shirt. He thinks it's cute, but can't really tell you that, so his palm usually just rests overtop the hand clenching at the fabric.

Ever since you came around, he definitely takes the opportunity to rest more. Especially if he's lucky enough to walk in on you napping somewhere already. It's sort of a bonding activity since he's often too busy tending to the rotting camp or the tunnels or hunting or murdering and such. Sleeping with you is always an option, of course, but he tends to be the one to shy away from this and simple stick to cuddling.

Sometimes you have pretty rough nightmares that wake you up in an icy sweat. They're never about him. About something else that you definitely can remember every time you wake up, but you don't dare to explain. It's something you don't have to tell Jason, because a part of you believes he already knows the reasons behind your night terrors.

Luckily, Jason is usually always there and so is his machete so you're quick to calm yourself and press closer into his chest, trying to forget the nightmare as quickly as you can and fill your nose with the smell of earth that clings to him.

Jason doesn't actually sleep, so there's not much of an opportunity for him to dream. He sees things sometimes, though. Hallucinations maybe. Of his mother obviously. Of water in places where water shouldn't be. He loses himself in old thoughts and memories when nothing else is going on.

There's not ever much to indicate this happening. He sits quietly at your side most of the time. If you're awake, however, you can usually sense the change in his energy and his demeanor. Tentatively, you'll wrap an arm around him and offer him some comforting whispers, even if you know he won't respond.

"You're okay, Jason."

"I'm here, Jason."

It's everything to him.

Thomas Hewitt

Between the coldness of the basement and the fact that Thomas is a giant heat generator, you can't think of a better sleeping arrangement than with him in that basement. He's only down there on nights when he doesn't come up to the main house to sleep in his actual room, so you have to play your cards right to catch him down there at the right time. He's unpredictable and comes and goes with little to no plans so there's not much of a schedule to memorize. During the summer, though, he tends to sleep down there more so you can always look forwards to that.

You think he might enjoy your company too. Especially during those summers because there's hardly ever a night where it's not sweltering hot and everyone is miserable. The flimsy fans just aren't enough. So when there's no dinner in the basement or anything alive inside of it, you and Thomas utilize it often. The rest of his family tends to keep away from it, so it's even nicer. It's like a little private blood stained suite that Charlie can't burst into unannounced.

Thomas seems to notice that your mood improves when you can sleep in the basement with him, so he actively works harder in the summer to make sure the basement is always cleared out of intruders or whoever's next on the plate. He wants to keep the basement to himself and you as much as he possibly can.

While he may not be overly touchy when he's awake, that all changes when he's sleeping or getting comfortable alone with you. He's constantly got his arms wrapped around you tight or your body pulled into the curve of his while his soft breath stirs at your hair. Sometimes, he strokes over your soft skin or pulls his fingers through your hair--something you become increasingly attached to and appreciative of.

You learn quickly to get comfy when he gets his arms around you because you're not going to be able to break out of his grip until he's awake.

Brahms Heelshire

He's been practically begging to sleep in the same bed as you for weeks. You hadn't been the biggest fan of this idea, not even when you were letting him sleep with you. Your own bed had been special to you when it came to Brahms' clinginess. Sharing it with him felt like you were going to give up the very last stronghold against him you had. You knew that when you were sleeping, he often spied on you through the walls anyways, but at least you'd had a few hours where he wasn't constantly all over you.

Reluctantly, however, you'd soon agreed to this after getting annoyed with his antics. He'd gone quickly from simply staring at you from behind cracks and keyholes in the walls to just straight up hovering over you. At one point, you caught him lifting the sheet off of you in what you assumed was an attempt to sneak into bed with you. You figured that he was eventually going to succeed, so the least you could do was have a little bit of control over this and act like it's all on your own terms. It's stupid, but it makes you feel better.

Holy fuck, he is a snuggler for sure. If you think he's touch starved and needy when he's awake and on his feet he's on a whole other level when he's sharing a bed with you. He's always got a leg hooked over yours and often he presses his face into the crook of your neck or your hair. His hands seem to constantly be moving over your arm or down your side, like he can't actually believe you're real and laying in bed with him.

Brahms doesn't really hide his "excitement" to be in bed with you for the first few nights, and it makes it awkward to fall asleep with his cock usually pressed to your back. Lucky for you, he soon realizes that being in the same bed as you is not an automatic invitation to fuck you.

Obviously it still happens, you have your needs too and you'd be lying if you said he wasn't getting good at pleasuring you. But at least he has a bare minimum understanding of the importance of your consent.

You will admit he's a really good cuddler, though. He makes you feel...loved. For a lack of better words. Wanted. And needed by the way his fingers pressed into your skin and the porcelain perfect lips of his mask grazed softly over your neck.

When he sleeps, however, he's not as gentle. He has nightmares, often, seemingly violent ones that often wake you up before he wakes up. The first thing he does when he finally wakes up his sit up and wrap his arms back around you, pulling you back under the sheets with him. You can hear his quick, shallow breaths from behind the mask and sometimes you feel him trembling against you.

Once you asked him what it was he dreams of. He responds with one word, softly in the darkness, the child-like tone completely missing from his voice.

"Fire."

Pyramid Head

You don't think he sleeps.

Sometimes he'll stand still for awhile, like he's listening for something, but you've never actually see him lay down or give off any semblance of sleep. It makes sense after all--he's an otherworldly monster why would he have to sleep anyways? It does always give you a bit of a giggle though, trying to picture him laying down with that big ass helmet.

You're not sure what his deal is, but once again, him not ever getting tired or being plagued by exhaustion familiar to human isn't a downside for you whatsoever. It honeslty makes you feel safer.

You're not immune to this human exhaustion however. You'd think being stuck in purgatory hell town would have just some benefits like maybe excusing you from basic human functions, but apparently not. Either way, when you do have to take a break to sleep or nap somewhere, he'll usually stand over you or at least patrol nearby.

There's this...need in him to just. Make his rounds and punish. Like a shark needs to move in order to live, kinda.

For most, it'd be harder to fall asleep with a giant menacing monster with a giant knife standing watchfully over you or dragging said giant knife around obnoxiously on the hunt for the damned...but not for you. He's looming and terrifying and possibly hell personified, but his presence is comforting considering the other monstrous shit lurking nearby.

Chris Walker

You're not actually sure if Chris sleeps but sometimes he lays down on flimsy beds or in whatever pathetic, bloodstained cot is nearby and just kinda breathes in and out raggedly while he stares up at the ceiling.

He doesn't exactly pull you onto the mattress with him (can those springs even take your combined weights?) so you're never sure what to do during these moments. You do find out rather quickly, however, that when his guard is down like this, the safest place to be is probably on top of him, head nestled into his chest. Even being at his side is too far away from him, too risky--anything could grab you.

You're somewhat of an insomniac yourself, and between that and the uneven, raspy breathing and the rise and fall of his chest, you don't often sleep well. Normally just a power nap here or there or dozing off.

Sometimes one of his clawed hands will find its place over the small of your back. It stays there until he's ready to be on the move again. At first, you think it's to keep you firmly there--to keep you from escaping. But he knows better than that. He knows you'd have to be really stupid to try running away from him for real. It's more of a precaution to keep any variants from trying to kill you or steal you from him. He's very sure that anything that isn't him is out to get you for themselves and he's not even wrong about it--that's probably the worst part. But the point is, nothing is taking you away from him while his guard is down without moving his massive, weighty hand off you first.

He's a very light sleeper, so something like that would no doubt wake him. Even you can't move without making him stir. He'll give a low, warning growl and you'll instantly go still again, not wanting to disturb him once more.

As stressful as the sleeping situation might be for you, it's way less stressful than any other idea you have. Things could be worse, you often tell yourself as you lay with your head pressed to his chest, listening to the thump of his great heart.

You don't know how either of you manage to get any amount of rest between all the screaming and moans echoing through the asylum.

Daniel Robitaille

Where he resides seems to permanently be cold. Even when the sun beat down during the summers, it was icy and your fingertips and toes seemed to go numb every time. He warms them in his hands, often, when he greets you.

It's strange that although Daniel met his end in a funeral pyre, a supernatural chill still seemed to follow after him.

At first, you were scared to sleep near him. With long work hours, spending time with him only added onto the exhaustion and the temptation to shut your eyes when he held you in his arms grew stronger and stronger. You didn't think it was cold enough to kill you if you happened to fall asleep, but your paranoia still held you tight in its clawed hand.

At first, Daniel's insulted, thinking you're too scared or wary of him to let sleep take you when you're around him. You're his one and only, he'd never hurt you, you know that don't you? He asks you this and you only give him a shivering nod. He glances down at your trembling fingers and suddenly wraps his coat around you.

You're relieved that he doesn't attempt to keep you warm with his own body. You still haven't gotten completely use to the gentle hum of the bees that have made their home in his chest. You don't think he produces any sort of body heat either. But at least his coat smells like him and that's enough for you when you snuggle into it and finally get some shut eye.

Sometimes he sleeps besides you. At least, you think he does. You're not actually sure, but from the way his breathing seems to slow and the way his eyes stay peacefully shut you feel like he does. It's a convincing show, if he's faking.

Can ghosts sleep? Do they need to sleep? Apparently. Sometimes you wonder if he's getting irritated that all you do when you come to see him now most of the time is snooze. But honestly, he didn't mind. He knows you're either working two jobs or one overly demanding one in an attempt to scrape by. If he could, he'd sweep you off your feet and take you away to some manor--you and him could live luxuriously off his inheritance. But unfortunately, he was a very dead man and there was little he could do to help you. Other than maybeee taking out a few annoying workplace friends of yours that seemed a little too close to you.

The point is, no matter what it is you're doing, as long as you're in his line of sight or touching him he's fine with it. When you sleep you look cute all bundled up in his oversized coat anyways...

Harry Warden

Although they were dark and scary at first, the caves became oddly soothing to you. It became pretty easy for you to sleep and it became one of the biggest ways you passed the time. Something about the drip of moisture from distant stalagmites to the ground dragged you into a sweet, unconscious bliss without fail.

However, they are cold. Even without the drafts from the long gone outside, where the sunlight you'd never touch again lived, it was freezing. You'd been too nervous to complain at first, simply happy with being alive in the first place, grateful that Harry had the sense to even spare you. But eventually, your shivering became obvious and you worked up the nerve to say something.

You'd complained to Harry just once, softly as he rubbed at your shaking arms with gloved, sooty hands, streaking black down your skin. He left and came back with what you thought might have been shock blankets or some type of sheet meant to cover cargo being transported. Not the most comfortable in the world, but neither was living like an actual fucking bat and you managed that just fine.

Sometimes when you fade in and out of consciousness, you'll feel him against you, hands traveling all over your body under the blankets, as if he really can't believe your still here, that there's still breath in your body. What choice do you have? But you're so touch starved you lean into his touch, you let him do whatever he wants to you because at least you're not alone.

He's warm.

You don't ever actually see Harry sleep (not that you see much all in the dimly lit cave you stay in). He's constantly on the move, patrolling the mines, pickaxe swinging loyally at his side, searching for his next kill and (let's be real) his next meal.

Bo Sinclair

Bo's bitter and malicious and all things wrong but all that seems to fade away when he's in bed with you. It's like his mean streak is on break until he's up again in the morning ready to cause problems for the sake of causing problems. You savor those hours.

For once, that permanent scowl and furrow in his brow seems to leave his face when he's sleeping. There's very few times when you've been able to observe this, considering you often fall asleep before he does. You think he might stay awake longer than you on purpose--some weird dominance thing or some trust issue. Either way, it's hard to keep your eyes open for long with his fingers working steadily into the muscles of your shoulder and back, with his lips ghosting over the soft skin of your neck.

And when you're actually asleep? He's still all over you. He's 24/7. The mean streak may have an off button but he sure doesn't. Sometimes, when you're partially awake, slipping into unconsciousness, you can feel his lips on your cheek and murmurings that you can never quite understand because they feel so distant. His voice sends you into a comfortable sleep as easy as it can send shivers down your spine and wake you up.

Bo's hand will always be on you in some way, shape, or form. There is absolutely no leaving the bed without having to move his hand off your body and waking him as a result moments later. You know it started out as an indication of his wariness and distrust towards your own loyalties, thinking you'd attempt to run off in the cover of night when the opportunity presented itself. But after months of your...surprising cooperativeness and obedience, it became more of an affectionate gesture.

Often nights you sleep fine. Others? Not so much. The nightmares you have are few and far in between, forgotten memories of a long gone past. But when you do actually have them? Oh. It's anything but fun. They wake you up in tears. He's always awake before you, usually because of your thrashing and whimpering. He'll be there to shush you and pull you into his chest as he sits up against the headboard. The first few times he did this, all you'd wanted to do was escape to be alone, to be anywhere else, to not be touched. But now...it calms you down. Struggling doesn't help anyways, it just makes him grip you tighter.

It's not just you that gets nightmares either. As tough and macho and callous as Bo tried to be (usually successfully to the point where it actually intimidated you), he wasn't immune to his past--to the horror stored in subconscious away from his waking mind.

He's a killer and a monster and he's evil, you tell yourself again and again late in the night as you watch his face contort. But he's still human.

You have a decent idea as to what his nightmares may be about, judging by how quickly his fingers fly to the scars on his wrists when he wakes up. You don't really know what to say to him when he settles back into the mattress, trying to act like his chest isn't heaving in fear. You don't want to say anything either. There's nothing to be said that can make him better.

All you can do is reach back and pull his hand over your shoulder gently, and press your lips to his scarred wrist--a strange little gesture that he's completely in love with.

Bubba Sawyer

It's always hot as all hell. It's worse during the daytime, but the night offers little relief still. Sweat still runs down your back uncomfortably and the fan seems to do nothing to help. Sleeping with the sheets (or God forbid) a comforter is a death sentence so either you or Bubba tend to kick off the sheets every time. It also doesn't help that Bubba absolutely has to be next to you or touching you at all times.

Weirdly enough, you sleep a thousand times better when he's got a massive, scarred hand on the small of your back or chin in the crook of your neck. He sleeps better too, and he's always been a pretty lousy sleeper. He thinks you're the reason he can actually sleep through the nights and that's the reason that under no circumstances will he let you sleep in a separate one. You prefer him close to you anyways on the off chance one of his brothers decides to make an attempt on your life.

Waking up in the morning, he's usually star-fished out across the bed and you've usually somehow ended up on top of him, cheek pressed to his chest. He's a heavy sleeper and only ever seems to suddenly wake up when you try to get up and off of him and leave. Normally, one of his hands will come down on your back, pushing you back down before his fingers reach up to sleepily curl through your hair. You can only sigh and wait for him to get up because if he's not up, you're not up, period. His fingers do feel pretty good against your head though and it starts to become your favorite part of waking up.

Bubba doesn't seem to have dreams. If he does, he doesn't remember them and they're never enough to really wake him up. You, however, experience the opposite, especially after the traumatizing chainsaw incident. It's never him you see in your nightmares, just the fucking chainsaw. You'll wake up often gasping or in a cold sweat, and your hand goes to your scarred arm. It's hard to go back to sleep snuggled up against him after those nights.

There's times when you can't sleep at all and you'll just lay there, fingers tracing lazily over Bubba's chest, your eyes half shut with exhaustion.

You often catch quick naps during the day due to your newly erratic sleep pattern. You try to keep out of sight. Last time Drayton caught you napping you never heard the end of it and ended up catching hell over it because it was an apparent testament to your "laziness". As if your hands aren't raw from the hours you spend cleaning dishes under scalding water. As if your fingers aren't constantly aching from constantly being pricked from all the times you've had to sew up holes in clothes or...God forbid. Damage to the mask Bubba was so fond of.

You keep your naps to Bubba's room when you can. You pretend you don't notice whenever he locks the door from the outside. Probably better that way anyways at least no one but him can come in.

Kazan Yamaoka

As far as you know, Kazan doesn't...like...sleep. You're actually not sure if any of the killers do. You've tried to figure it out before, between trials. Sometimes you sneak onto his estate, into his realm, hoping to catch him in a moment where he's free of his usual murderous rage. You figure that might include him sleeping. Unfortunately, those moments don't seem to exist because the most that ever happens every time you do this is you run into him being very much awake, and he either has another go at...er...continuing his bloodline or he just straight up drives his katana through your chest.

Once or twice though, you think you've seen him low on energy when he hasn't had the chance to feed on blood. Sometimes, his head will dip slightly when he leans against a wall. With his mask, it's honestly impossible to tell whether or not his eyes are shut. When he smells nearby blood though, he's alert once more and on the hunt like nothing had happened.

So maybe he doesn't need to sleep because he gets all his energy from blood. And honestly? With you around, constantly scraped up by your own folly or his claws, Kazan's got a steady flowing supply.

His new affinity for draining you, however, results in your own exhaustion.

Sometimes it gets so bad, you fall asleep at the start of trials. It makes any runs with the Nightmare extra difficult and you usually don't make it through his trials anymore. Even though Kazan causes much more problems for you, there are some benefits. You know the Nightmare is one of the vulgar killers--the ones that say the most uncomfortable shit possible just to see their victim squirm in their grasp. Once you saw him open his scarred mouth to say something nasty, but he recognized the marks of Kazan's katana and claws in your skin, and quickly shut it. A strange, sick sort of pride flushes your system with smug endorphins. He knows not to fuck with what's Kazan's. With each passing trial and each new killer, you find that they all know as well. Not even the Ghost Face had shit to say to you.

Are they scared of Kazan too?

During his rounds, if one of your teammates doesn't find you and wake you first, Kazan usually will. When he picks you up, it's enough to stir you from your sleep. You recognize the pinprick of his claws at your ass almost instantly and know not to struggle. You don't dare. A soft sigh simply slips from your lips as your hands drift absentmindedly over the hard, scarred muscle in his back. Honestly, you're just relieved that he took mercy on you and didn't decide to stab you first.

You think you might imagine it, but sometimes he rubs gentle circles in your back and you can hear a gravelly hum, muffled behind the mask. It's enough to put you asleep again, his touch is so needed.

Then he hooks you and you're wide awake as pain floods through every one of your systems and the moment's over and ruined but it was nice while it lasted.

Philip Ojomo

There isn't much of a reason nor a need to sleep in the Entity's realm. It's like there's permanent adrenaline in the air. It's not like you can't--you're obviously not the only survivor that naps around. It's just unnecessary. The most it does is pass "time" between trials, if that's even a thing in this realm. There's no clocks and it's always permanently night so you don't think time passes.

You used to regularly try to nap after trials. You soon stopped when one of your teammates warned you of the dangers and brought up the possibility of being transported to a trial in the middle of sleeping. You thought it was stupid--there's no way to sleep through getting summoned for a trial. This awful chill always sweep through your body maybe thirty seconds before a round starts...

Sometimes you sneak out of the survivor camp when no one's paying attention. You try to make it a regular, normal thing for you, these little fake walks. Saying that you "need some air" or you need to "clear your mind" normally works well as an excuse. No one really cares. You've never made much of an effort to get too attached to any of your teammates and they're all too rugged and used to the way this world works too care. Being attached to someone is the worst pain. Having to see them die over and over again and writhe in pain and watch their blood soak the ground? Not ideal, to say the least.

So maybe that's why it's not as bad when it's with a killer. You don't have to see Philip's blood spill or his bones break. You don't have to see him with a hook through his shoulder like everyone else. You imagine that it still might be a little painful for him to have to do these things to you, but he's one of the oldest killers in this realm and at the end of the day he has a job to do. Even before you became closer with him, he never seemed to take pleasure in this job, however.

That makes you feel less terrible about being in the arms of a monster that murders people constantly for the favor of a cruel god that has ultimate dominion over him.

Philip tends to lay with you between trials. You don't ever actively try to find him. Doing that just makes it less likely he'll show up. You just walk with a sort of dazed, unfocused energy and he seems to show up on his own. He finds you before you ever find him.

You don't realize until later, but the reason behind this is because he actively cloaks himself and follows you around before uncloaking. You think it might be his way of warming up for a trial, but eventually come to realize it's just a habit that makes him comfortable. Philip does not like to be seen. Simple as that. You know you could just get better at spotting the shimmering trail he leaves when cloaked or listen a little harder for his sighs--but you don't want to.

The two of you have a favorite area--just some ruins in between the realms of different killers where it's just dark forest and shrubbery. There's a fire going in a barrel in the middle of the ruins and it never seems to burn out.

There you settle with him, pressed into his side. He usually keeps an arm wrapped around your shoulders and your head will fall into the crook of his neck as you begin to doze off. You fall asleep faster around him, because as much as he shouldn't, he makes you comfortable and feel safe.

You don't dream in this realm. It's strange. Laurie dreams--nightmares of the Shape. So do most of the other survivors. Sometimes good dreams. You've heard Yui often groan and talk of how she misses her bike and the road. But it's just black nothingness for you. Maybe it's a blessing.

You don't know if Philip dreams at all, but when he does close his eyes and lean his head back, he seems very peaceful. If only you knew the fire and machinery, vibrant and loud and terrifying, in his unconscious mind. It doesn't show on his face whenever he wakes up, though, so how could you? He knows you can't read his face very well. It's not your fault--he can't move it that well.

When Philip does wake up, it's normally because of a calling to trial. You think he gets the same chill as you do--just earlier and more intensely because he's deeper connected with the Entity. When he starts awake, normally waking you up as well, the first thing he does is pull you closer, long fingers biting into your arms, and his other hand goes for the spinal cord at his side.

It makes you feel somewhat protected as you push your face into his chest, wishing it didn't have to end all so soon. You always know him waking up is a telltale sign of the next trial starting. And before you know it, the Entity's swept you from his arms and back into the cold. Ready to face new hell.

Quentin Shermer

Weirdly enough, if he happens to be sleeping in a bed with you, he's so close to your body that there's barely a centimeter of space between you and him.

It's somewhat of a welcome change compared to how cold he normally is towards you when he's awake. You figure maybe it's his way of letting his guard down around you. Or just another freaky way he likes to exert power over you. Maybe it's to keep you from wanting to run from him. Maybe it's a way to get you to let your own guard down. You could have fucking chained yourself to him and he'd still think you'd try to finally leave him.

Either way you're not going to read too into it. You'd rather just enjoy it while it lasts. Because these are the moments you think of when you lay alone at night without him. You'd rather his suffocating grasp on you than nothing at all.

It used to be practically heart attack inducing to suddenly feel his arms wrap around you--especially when it's at your place. He's always just...shown up unannounced in your house before but it had taken you awhile to get used to it. You noticed it became a lot more common after you'd started fucking him.

Still, he was unpredictable. As creepy as his place was, it was obvious to you that there was oddly a lot of care put into all the little ritualistic pieces strewn about the room he'd laid claim to. It would take a lot more to get him to abandon something like that. Having two places to switch between also seemed to keep any potential police investigations off his ass if he had a sloppy night.

Sometimes you find yourself going to sleep alone in your bed and then waking up in his. It'd been terrifying the first couple of times, but eventually you learned that he just...did that to you sometimes. It's almost flattering--especially because you've never once woken up when he's been stealing you out of your own house. It means there's some part of him that's capable of being gentle enough to pull that off.

It's all a matter of possessiveness. It's fucked up. Plain and simple. It's worse that you're just...fine with it. But why fight it when you could fuck it, right? Because what the hell else is there other than him?

Sometimes you wondered if you should get some fucking therapy. But how were you supposed to explain all of this to a professional? Chances were you'd end up in the same fucking asylum the Butcher had broken out of. And you didn't want the police to catch him through your weakness. You wouldn't let them take him from you.

It's not harming anyone if you wake up next to him in the morning right? Just you. Only you. And that's fine.

It's all fine.

Sometimes it's like the not-so subtle guilt of being with him creeps up on you in your sleep. You can't remember the nightmares. You can just recall the hopeless sort of feeling that follows when you finally wake up. It feels like you're slowly rotting and tearing inside. There should be a 'but'. Like 'but then he's there, he's there and it makes you feel better and it makes it all go away'. But it doesn't. Sometimes you'll feel his fingers through your hair and his breath on your skin.

The feeling of complete emptiness doesn't go away.

#slasher #preferences #not healthy not condoned #michael myers x reader #jason voorhees x reader #brahms heelshire x reader #thomas hewitt x reader #pyramid head x reader #chris walker x reader #daniel robitaille x reader #bo sinclair x reader #bubba sawyer x reader #harry warden x reader #kazan yamaoka x reader #philip ojomo x reader #quentin shermer x reader

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rottenstrawberrymilk · 28 days ago

Text

scars

slashers x reader

preferences

not healthy not condoned

Michael Myers

He may keep coming back again and again like nothing happened, but the scars that still litter his body after tell a different story. One of bullets that didn’t miss, of knives and sharp things being ironically turned against him, and of countless other things. The scars from things that had “killed” him blended will with the scars from his numerous victories against victims who tried to fight back.

The ones that are most visible are on his hands. Little nicks and tears from knives. There’s a particular large one on his palm from when he had grabbed a knife from someone he was hunting, ripped it out of their hands and turned it on them. He doesn’t wear gloves because he doesn’t give a fuck about fingerprints or anything that could lead to him being trapped down. Cops who found their way to him weren’t superhuman. They died under his knife and his brutal hands just like anyone else. It made him bold and cocky and reckless but it was deserving based on how much of a tank he was.

And then there’s a huge scar on his neck that he won’t talk about (not that he talks anyways) and the obvious one—his eye. You’ve seen it a couple of times when he occasionally takes his mask off for no discernible reason. You figured he only wore it when he was in a killing mood, so no one had a human face to match to monstrous actions but he still wore it when lounging casually. Ultimately you stopped trying to find a purpose or a pattern because he was completely unreadable and you told yourself you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of occupying your thoughts constantly.

You used to not have as many scars on your body, but with Michael now in your life, that obviously changed. He’s given you a good amount of them, only a fraction of the amount he has, but it’s still a lot, mostly on your chest and waist and thighs. His favorite places to mark you up. Sometimes you wonder if there’s ever a night he won’t bring a knife to keep you and him company beneath the sheets of your bed. There’s only so many places he can press the blade against and you thought he’d eventually get bored of it but nope—still going strong.

And then there’s…the ones on your wrists that you don’t like to talk about or look at or think about. Michael doesn’t ask, even if he stares at them while you sleep next to him. Not that he would ask anyways. You mind your business and he minds his.

Jason Voorhees

Jason is completely fucking covered in scars, mostly on his large chest, back, and arms. He’s spent years getting supposedly offed in numerous, painful ways and has spent even more time chasing and fighting trespassers, so he obviously was marked with trophies from his wins and reminders of his losses. He could recall where every one of them was from. This one, a screwdriver through his leg. Another one, his own machete to the shoulder.

He’s nonverbal, so you can’t ask about any of them and he can’t tell you about them, even if he wanted to. Sometimes your fingers trace along them when you’re holding his hand in your lap, and you’ll hear a bit of a rasp in the back of his throat, like he wants to respond, but can’t.

It’s actually kinda sad. Sometimes you catch him rubbing at them furiously, like he’s trying to make them all go away.

Jason is very, very gentle with you so he hasn’t left a single scar on your body. He’d never forgive himself if he did and probably would feel infinitely bad about it. Once he left a bruise from grabbing your waist a little too hard, and he avoided you for a week because he felt so bad, so leaving a scar was unimaginable to him.

But there is one scar that he often stares at when you’re not paying attention or dozing off. One along your side, like someone had tried to gut you but had missed. It irritates him every time he sees it. It reminds him that he wasn’t able to protect you from that. If only he’d gotten to you earlier…

For you, it’s just a reminder of your past. A reminder of what Jason had saved you from.

Thomas Hewitt

Obviously, his job has always been bloody and dangerous, resulting in tons of marks, most of which are on his fingers. It’s easy to tell which ones are old. They’re from when he was only working as a butcher.

The newer ones are form dinner guests that bite back. There’s a rather large one in his side that’s oddly shaped, that you find your fingers tracing whenever he’s laying with you. What the fuck made that??

“Hey, what made this one?” You asked him curiously, pushing on the spot slightly.

Thomas simply grunted and sat up, slightly, gesturing over at a screwdriver on the counter.

He also has the scars that disfigured his face from birth, something that he was still hypersensitive about. You, however, didn’t really notice them or talk about them. You were more interested on the newer scars on his body. Your general lack of interest and attention on his facial scars made him feel just a teeny bit better.

In contrast to your big, terrifying boyfriend, you only had one scar. It’s faint now, but it’s still visible. You don’t have any cool and scary stories behind it. It’s just from when you’d slipped in spilled blood on the floor upstairs and fell flat on your face, gashing open your face on the hard ground.

You don’t know how Thomas manages to still see it, even with how dim it is down in the basement or in his room. His thumb still traces over it.

He touched your face a lot. He’s always been just a little jealous at how the rest of your skin seems perfect. Sometimes you wonder if he’s gonna get mad at you one day and try to cut your face off, but it seems like he just likes to stroke his scarred, rough fingers over it and appreciate it as it is.

Brahms Heelshire

He’s burnt as all hell and it’s no secret. They’re the worst on his face, hence his trademark porcelain mask, but you can see where fainter burn scars extend down his chest and arms and to the back of his hands. You always feel bad when you see him. They tell a tragic story.

Brahms hates his burn scars, obviously. Your generally supportive, nonjudgemental presence isn’t enough to undo years and years of self loathing and hatred. On his bad days, he likes to smash mirrors throughout the house so he didn’t have to look at himself. You eventually stopped trying to fix them.

He just preferred to cover them up whenever he could. It took a lot for him to remove it. Even when he was messing around with you, there was a low chance he’d take it off. Maybe to eat you out but those were very rare occasions. So for the most part, mask stays on during sex.

Due to this, you’re actually more attracted to him when he’s wearing the mask, which is what he wants anyways. He basically Pavlov’d you into getting all worked up every time you saw him in it.

You have a scar that Brahms gave you on accident one time.

He pretends he did it to you on purpose, and attempts to weaponize it as a way to gently remind you to “be good for him”. However, you can see right past it, as you clearly remember the way he lost his fucking mind when he accidentally did that to you. Brahms had basically been sobbing, clinging to you like he thought you were gonna leave him right then and there, kissing rapidly at your skin as an apology.

Pyramid Head

You kinda have a huge thing for scars, so you knew you hit the motherhood with big dick triangle head over here. He’s fucking ripped and powerful as all hell so you have no idea what creature out in Silent Hill is bold enough to even try to take him down. Either way, you hoped they’d keep trying because it meant every time you saw him he’d have a new expanse of scars down his massive, heaving chest.

Head to toe, he’s constantly covered. There’s fresh gashes in his torso whenever he sees you again that you know are going to scar over beautifully.

He doesn’t care about them at all, but he seems to notice your interest in them from the way your hands caress over them whenever you’re close to him. He draws the simple conclusion that you like the scars a lot. He doesn’t mind you touching them either. He takes you touching him like that as an invitation to slam you into anything nearby and try to fuck you right there and then. You’re always game for it too.

When he allows you to touch him, you often end up kissing the scars down along his torso. You’re not sure if he derives pleasure from the sensation but you’re not dead yet and he doesn’t ever stop you so you figure it’s a “yes”.

It’s lucky and almost unnatural that you don’t have a lot of major scars, especially because of how dangerous Silent Hill was. You’ve got one big one on your arm, ironically received from an armless man that Pyramid Head had been quick to decapitate.

Annnnd there’s a really big scar right in the middle of your stomach that you don’t remember being there before or ever receiving. Perhaps the experience of receiving it had been so traumatic you’d blacked it out, but you felt as though it hadn’t come from anyone or anything in Silent Hill. You can’t explain it. But maybe it’s why you’re here in the first place.

Chris Walker

Normally, it’s too dark for you to tell if he has any scars on his body, but you can definitely feel them all whenever he’s got you pinned against a wall or a mattress screaming under your combined weights.

But obviously, his face is pretty fucked up too and it isn’t very hard to see them if there’s ever a little light in the room. You could feel his facial scars as well as the ones on his hands well. You knew his lips were long gone because he’d never kissed you—normally he’d just pushed his teeth to your lips in a mockery of one which you found kinda endearing but also kinda gross.

A lot of his scars are actually self inflicted. Twinsies! Because so are a lot of your own. Hence why you ended up here.

Even though he’s big and scary and freaky, he makes you feel less ugly about having your arms and legs exposed. They’re nothing compared to when Chris is standing nearby, covered in his own heavy scars.

Was it a bit extreme using one of the scariest, most inhuman variant in the facility to make yourself feel better out of your own vanity? Yes. But did Chris care? No. So yo figured what did it matter as long as it made you feel good.

Even though he’s closer to an animal than he is a human, you still find that…you kinda care about him. Sometimes when he gets hurt real bad, you lead him to somewhere with a working faucet and try to clean him up the best you can. You’re not a nursing type, but his howls and groans get grating after awhile, so you do your part to help him. Call it quid pro quo, considering the way he protected you like a guard dog and the way he fucked you.

Daniel Robitaille

Does missing a good amount of his torso count as a scar? Maybe? Whatever it is, you avoid touching it, mostly because there’s fucking bees in there, but also because you’d feel guilty if touching it hurt him. He tells you it wouldn’t, but you’re still averse to it. So he tends to keep his coat closed around it so he doesn’t make you as uncomfortable. You get used to it over time, but you can’t stop wincing whenever you see it. It makes you feel more pity for him than disgust, really.

Other than that though? Nothing else. He’s surprisingly flawless despite his brutal death and carries the same handsomeness he had before his untimely death. He knew well that he was attractive, and he knew that you knew this too.

You on the other hand have tons from past physical abuse at the hands of exes who didn’t treat you will and even family members early on in your life. You’d long disconnected and disowned many of these people even before Daniel came into your life.

Daniel has never asked you about them out of politeness and you appreciate that very much, as you never really wanted to elaborate on them for the sake of excavating painful memories you’d buried years ago. But you still have a feeling that Daniel knows damn well where they came from, considering the first people he began to kill in your life were some of those exes before you’d even done anything to actually piss Daniel off. You didn’t want to know how he found out. He’s supernatural so you really don’t know the extent of his powers.

When you lay with him, he strokes over your arms a lot and you notice. He does it so lovingly, like he doesn’t see anything wrong with them at all. Like it’s all just smooth, flawless skin like his own. He’s convincing and comforting and actually does a great deal to help you forget that they exist. Because no matter how much you told yourself your past was buried and you had moved on, as long as those scars existed you were never truly free from the memories.

Harry Warden

You wouldn’t know if he had any scars because you’ve never seen him in good lighting without his gas mask and his suit on. He’s very secretive and you have yet to even get a clear look at his face from the times you accidentally walked in on him without the mask on. He really doesn’t like it when you do that.

Anytime he has his actual suit off is normally when he’s fucking you, anyways, and normally it’s either dark as hell or you have your head buried in your neck or he’s got you from behind. It’s all strategic, you know that. You figure if he doesn’t wanna take his mask off that bad you should leave him alone about it.

You’ve got plenty of little scars here and there from tripping and falling and scraping yourself up pretty bad in the caves and roughly dug tunnels.

There’s also a decent sized one across your chest, right over your collarbone from when you’d accidentally snuck up on Harry. You thought he’d known you were there, but apparently not, because he’d turned around suddenly, pickaxe in hand, already swinging before he could realize it was you and stop himself. It’d been very close to being a fatal hit, but he aimed lower at the last second. Apparently, he must have thought you were an intruder.

At least you thought it was a case of mistaken identity. It could have been some sort of fucked up warning or punishment for displeasing him in some way. Either way, you know now not to sneak up on him or approach him from a blind spot without letting him know you were there. Just on the off chance he didn’t miss the next time.

Bo Sinclair

You’re beginning to acquire your own set of matching scars with Bo from the amount of times he’s used duct tape on you. Not to keep you from escaping or anything (well maybe once or twice), just because he liked it more than rope and thrilled him to finally use it excessively on someone else.

You don’t really get it. You knew very little about his childhood except that he had his own scars from the duct tape. He’d never want something like that back on his wrists so why was he doing it to you? Either way, from the intensity in his gaze when he looks up from what he’s doing to you, you can tell he likes it a lot. You’re not about to argue with him.

Anything for Bo Sinclair.

Also due to his affinity for knife play when he has you all alone, you’re starting to get some permanent marks on the inside of your thighs. You don’t really care that much about them because they’re not in plain sight and you can’t even see them yourself unless you really try. It gets Bo riled up, so in the end, still a positive for you because the more he was attracted to you, the less of a chance there’d be of him trying to murder you. It’d only been a few months since you’d first come to Ambrose, so you were still a little iffy on the whole “being a literal serial killer’s girlfriend thing”.

There was one long scar on your stomach from when you’d flinched the first time Bo tried to use a knife on you and it ended up cutting in too deep. Obviously, he’d called you an idiot but you could tell he felt really bad about it, judging on how obsessively he tended to the wound afterwards. Now the scar is one of the first thing he kisses on your body whenever he lifts your shirt up.

You know that he’s never going to tell you straight up (on the chance it scares you off or worries you) but he likes knowing that he’s responsible for that scar—that’s his mark on your body. He likes feeling the irregularly of it underneath his fingertips when he’s holding you close, hands trailing over your abdomen.

Before coming to Ambrose, you already had a scar over your brow. Originally, Bo thought it was from the car crash you’d gotten in that landed you in the town in the first place, but when he nursed your wounds, he found that it was an old scar. You won’t talk about where it’s from no matter how much Bo pries, not even late at night when he can dig the most into your vague past.

All he knows is you weren’t always like this, all soft and quiet and agreeable.

Bubba Sawyer

Obviously, your biggest and most visible scar is from when Bubba grazed you with a chainsaw the first time he'd met you. You'd thought it marked you for certain death, not his affections.

You often tried to forget about it the best you could, but sometimes, late at night, you'd absentmindedly trace your fingers over it. Bubba seemed to think of it as often as you did, and his own hand would find its way on your scarred arm as well to stroke over the skin.

A part of you knew he wasn't proud of it or anything. It wasn't some fucked up mark, claiming you as his. You thought he might have been guilty about being the cause of it, judging by the way he whimpers or mumbles when he sees is. Sometimes, his hand rubs up and down it, like he's trying to smear it away, off your skin.

Often though, he'll kiss it when you're messing around with him. You think it might be his way of trying to apologize. It definitely hurt getting it and you still shiver whenever you remember the pain of it all or hear his chainsaw starting up.

Bubba himself has plenty of scars, all up his chest and on his arms from previous and newer victims who fought back. You've seen him come back once or twice with slices deep enough that he'd stitch them up himself, groaning and even howling in pain. You tended to back off during these times, never having been much of a nurse.

And then there's the obvious ones that no one talks about, not even his family. The ones on his face.

Bubba's not big on taking his mask off, but it does happen sometimes. That was how you first saw them. You hadn't ever realized there might have been an actual reason for him wearing that mask and you'd never questioned it considering it wasn't the worst thing about him. You couldn't help but flinch the first time you saw his face. Luckily, he didn't see it and it didn't take you long to get use to the scarring on his face later on when he took off his mask.

With you around, he takes it off a lot more, surprisingly. Maybe your practiced lack of reaction to his facial disfigurations had boosted his confidence a bit...

Kazan Yamaoka

Kazan is covered in scars. It's pretty hard not to notice them, they stand out strikingly against his blue-toned skin and expansive muscles.

A lot of them are from the mob that killed him, but there's really no way to tell which one was the one that actually did him in. The mob scars are mostly on his back--they'd attacked him from behind, something that still made his blood boil with wrath to this day. It was a move of ultimate cowardice and unforgivable and shameful to Kazan. Even worse that it had felled him.

But there's also older ones that he takes more obvious pride in. Real battle scars, you figure, ones on his chest that signaled he'd taken hundreds of men head on and had still triumphed.

You felt like if Kazan could speak more English and if you had been brave enough to ask, he'd go on about them forever and could probably tell you how he got each one. Unfortunately, the most you can get is a snarling "yes" or "no" in response to any question you're bold enough to ask him. There's really not much of an opportunity to have a casual conversation with him either. It seems to just put him in a mood if you pry too much anyways.

You figure that since there's a ton of scars on his body, he'd have plenty on his face to match as well. However, Kazan never really takes off his mask completely, so there's no certain way to tell. At least, he doesn't do it in front of you. You're not even sure he's capable of taking it off al the way.

Sometimes there'll be rare moments where he really does overwork himself in a rage. He'll move it up a little to his nose so he can breathe better after a fit of wrath. When he's gasping for air, powerful chest heaving as the last of a growl dies on his tongue, you can see a scar over his lips.

Philip Ojomo

You assume that the obvious scars and disfigurements and markings on Philip's sweet face are some entity-given punishment for what he had done to end up here as a killer. It almost makes him look tree-like in nature, the scars are so horrific.

You'd grown bold enough to ask about it at some point. Most conversations with Philip were completely one sided, normally leaning on yes or no questions he could nod or shake his head to. Still, it had taken a lot to even get to that point.

You'd been laying beside him, snuggled into his tattered shawl, one of his arms around your shoulders, slender and dark fingers toying with the tips of your hair absentmindedly. These were some of your favorite moments with him. When you could just sit with him between trials, where it was just you and him and nothing else for the briefest of moments. You'd hated ruining it with more questions, but you couldn't help your curiosity.

When you'd asked what happened to him as you laid beside him, hand touching along his rough cheek, Philip simply gestured to the fire burning in the barrel at his feet with his spinal cord clad axe.

"Before all this or..." you'd pried further. Did the Entity punish killers for failed trials? You knew the punishment for survivors failing a trial was obviously painful death but you sometimes wondered about the killers. Either way, it looked like you'd have to save those questions for another day because Philip had nodded in response to your question. So it happened before then. When he was still very much human. Ouch.

You noticed he'd kinda been angling his head away from you, like he was suddenly self conscious about the tragic, twisting scars across his face.

Reaching up gently, you took his face in your hand and tilted his head back so you could look up into those large, dark eyes of his. The light in them flicked to meet your own eyes.

A bit of a soft, sympathetic smile appeared on your face. "I bet you were still really cute," you told him.

Philip leaned into your touch and his grip on the axe fell away. The handle dropped to the ground as he pressed his bandaged palm up against the back of your hand. He breathed a gentle sigh as crows began to gather.

Quentin Shermer

Normally it's too dark to see much of him but you have felt irregularities along his skin under the surface of your fingertips before.

Obviously, he's got little ones. It normally makes you nauseous to know what they're from, so you try not to think of it too often. The little flaws remind you again and again that he's no superhuman. Sure, he's huge, he's strong, but he's not invincible.

There's a rather large scar on his side that looks pretty aged and he won't talk about it.

Not that he's much of a talker anyways. He's not exactly the type to sit down with you and take you through the history of each and every little cut or scrap on his body.

You have your fair share of scars--the number of which has only grown since you've become more involved with him. You shrug it off as him being too rough without realizing, that's all. You're not awake for the times when he's looking over each and every one of those marks he's left on your skin, counting them in his head like it's a ritual.

You may be spared from a knife in your throat or whatever other dozens of ways he could think of killing you in, but you aren't spared from his usual habits. It's very rare that he's gentle to you. So it's not uncommon that you bare the marks of his brutishness.

#slasher #preferences #not healthy not condoned #michael myers x reader #jason voorhees x reader #thomas hewitt x reader #brahms heelshire x reader #pyramid head x reader #chris walker x reader #daniel robitaille x reader #harry warden x reader #bo sinclair x reader #bubba sawyer x reader #kazan yamaoka x reader #philip ojomo x reader #quentin shermer x reader

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