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slxsherwriter · 10 months

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Damnation as a Saving Grace

Fandom: 31

Pairing: Doom-head x female reader

Word Count: 2,725

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of death and murder

Author's note: So, due to life circumstances, Nano didn't go the way I wanted it. My final word count for the month ended up 12,666. I'm not disappointed with that by any means. This fic ended up being mostly written within the month. I added the last 600 words today. My first shot at writing Doom. I purposely left his lovely, wordy, wanting to seem educated way of speaking out for the time being due to the circumstances. There will be a continuation, and he gets to show off there ;)

The ache and pains that plagued your body were all shoved in the back of your mind, not present as the beat of your heart seemed to keep time with the slam of your feet against the concrete. Your own personal hell. Words had never been more true than when they had been spoken by whoever the hell was running this sick and twisted game. They weren't the focus though either. If you survived, then maybe you would dedicate some time to figuring out who the hell these people were and why they did what they did. If there was a why. But now, when you were trying to find a place to make your last stand, was not the time to narrow down your focus to those that didn't matter.

After a while, the makeshift prison started to look all the same. Something that you knew wasn't true given the few places that you had moved through. It was the panic speaking. And panic was a surefire pathway straight to death. Calming yourself down was easier said than done, of course, but if you wanted to make it out of here alive, you had to force it.

Finding a small space to squeeze that seemed like it would serve as a decent hiding spot for the few moments that you would need it, you forced your body into the space. As quietly as you could, slow, deep breaths were taken in an attempt to slow down the way that you were sucking down air. Think. You had to think.

Without weapons, you were at a bigger disadvantage. Already, you lacked knowledge of your location compared to whoever it was that they had coming after you. Lacking a weapon just left you far more vulnerable than if you could at least defend yourself with something. If you could manage to get an attack in. A big if. This newest guy? The one that you hadn't seen yet? He moved real god damn quiet. Unlike the other Heads that had hunted you down, it didn't seem like he liked to play by taunting and building anticipation and terror. It was far more methodical and controlled. The three people that had made it with you through to the final three hours had been picked off one by one. Without warning and without the pomp and show that you had encountered up until then. Which made it that much more terrifying. You only knew it was a man when your friend had taken the chance to shout out loudly as he had died.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you murmured gently to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut. "Think…" A sneak attack would give you the best advantage but how did you sneak attack someone that was practically a ghost? And what were you going to use? A pipe? Could you get something off of the wall without making a lot of sound? It was a thought, one that you might have to seriously entertain and take the risk of with such limited options. There wasn't any scrap metal laying around that you could use. For likely being an abandoned area, it was surprisingly well maintained. Likely for the very reason you were looking around if the people running this game were as smart as they had seemed so far.

"Pipe it is." You glanced up and cocked your head. Could you manage to get up that high? A drop down point would be an even better sneak attack. He would be less prepared to anticipate it. At least you hoped that would be the case. And a reaction to that sort of attack might be a little slower, giving you a proper chance to actually cause a little damage. Maybe enough to incapacitate him enough to get away and get out. A fresh wave of determination came over you, washing away the doubt and the worry. It was your best chance, and if it worked out, you would be able to get out of here. It was all you wanted. Plan in mind. You just had to figure out how it was that you were getting up there and quickly. There was no telling where he was. If he was watching, well, your entire element of surprise would be ruined.

It was a struggle, but you managed to find a small perch that was relatively inaccessible from any sort of high walkway or ladder. It had taken far more time than you would have liked, but the drop down was directly below. Your arms were screaming, muscles burning with the effort that you had needed to exert to get to your spot. Enough so that you were worried about being able to swing the pipe that you had pried off of the wall. Given that it was likely your only chance to get a whack in and escape, you were going to have to make due and give it your all. Survival demanded it.

Again, you had to work on slowing your breathing. Every sound made seemed to echo in your ears, and the exertion had caused you to all but pant again. It felt like each sound you made was a bright, neon beacon hanging over your head, telling him exactly where to find you.

Straining to see anything in the dark or hear anything above your own breathing and beating heart, now it was a game of patience. Something that was incredibly difficult with the sense of anticipation that kept adrenaline pumping through your veins. The creaking and movement of the building in general was enough to send a shiver down your spine, spiking that adrenaline thinking that it was him who had found you. It was a horrid way to exist, ready to jump out of your skin at the slight sound, but you were going to make it through this. If not for anything other than to try and prove these fuckers wrong, to be able to shove it in their face. And maybe, just maybe, figure out how to get a little revenge for the friends that had died for their amusement.

Steps. Careful, measured steps were coming down the hallway from your right. It was all wrong. He hadn't made that much noise up until now. It was almost as if he was purposeful in how he was walking to make sure that you were alerted to your presence. Set on edge, your hands tightened around the cool metal, eyes darting in both directions to see if it was some sort of trick. While things had been straightforward up until now, it didn't mean that they would stay that way. Maybe this was some method to get you to come out of hiding to play. You were sure that they didn't want anyone winning. Heaven forbid. That would cause an issue for their game. You were going to be that exception, though. You were going to survive this.

Nothing. Just the sounds of the careful steps. No man. The hair on the back of your neck stood. What was going on? There was still no appearance after a couple of moments, and it was all wrong. The pipe nearly slipped from your hand as you adjusted your grip, trying to keep your breathing as slow and steady as you possibly could. The steps faded away, but the feeling of urgency and danger did not go away. It heightened instead, the overwhelming feeling of dread just seeping in deeper and deeper. Eyes were on you. You could swear that you felt them, but it would be impossible. Shit. Stay still. You had to stay still. Movement would alert him to where you were. It had to be what he wanted, to draw you out, make you panic, get you running around without a game plan. That would just make you easier prey.

So, you waited. As difficult as it was. Seconds passed in long, drawn out ticks of the clock, making it feel more like minutes for every second. But finally, finally, the lanky frame came into view. Just barely silhouetted against the light, the footsteps were near silent. That let you know the initial thought you had about the audible steps before had likely been right. They had been a purposeful decision meant to draw you out. He hadn't found you. There was a chance that staying would let you win. A slim chance. Which was one that you weren't willing to take. These people couldn't let you live if you did manage to make it through the time limit that had been placed on the game.

Timing was just off as you dropped down onto the man, catching his back and shoulder rather than knocking him completely off of his feet. You grunted as you swung the pipe with as much might as you possibly could before you stopped midswing. Blinking, you tried again but found the same result. You couldn't bring the pipe against his flesh. Frustration mounted, and the fact nearly made you cry. This couldn't be happening. The man turned and went to swing at you in retaliation during that second swing, but he seemed to have the same problem, the punch missing you by a mile.

"Fuck me…" He grunted as he tried swinging again before reaching for a blade. The blade swung by your face but didn't come close to catching any skin. Realization sunk in as you both seemed entirely incapable of harming the other. This had to be some part of the sick joke that was being played on you. There was only one reason that someone couldn't harm another. Soulmates. This fucked up nightmare had just become worse. Maybe having him kill you would have been the better sort of end game.

The pipe dropped from your hand, and you took a step back, but it was the furthest distance that you could manage. Something stopped another movement backward. He was simply staring at you, an unreadable look overtaking his features. An emotion that you couldn't place. Did you even want to? Christ, what did you do with this situation? It wasn't like the two of you could sit down and talk about this like normal people. He had been just ready to run you through with his switchblades, and you had been ready to bash his head, or really any part of his body that you could reach.

"Don't move," he growled out and lifted the blade in his hand, using it to simply point at you this time. "You fucking understand?" You were torn between listening and ignoring the demand that had been made. Just because he couldn't harm you didn't mean that there wasn't others and that he wouldn't be going to get them. Another step back resulted in a rather aggressive sound being released from the man.

"You think I'm going to listen to you?" Your voice came out stronger than you thought it would, giving yourself a mental pat on the back for that. If your voice had come out shaky, you would have felt even worse than you were right now.

"Yeah, you fucking are." He moved closer, that distance that you had established vanished with two quick strides by the man. There was no stopping the wince that came. Logically, now you knew he couldn't hurt you. That didn't stop the emotional and a primal part of your brain reacting to the very real threat that was still perceived. Distance would help you feel more comfortable, as comfortable as one could get in such a situation. That also led to better observations, better decisions, and better outcomes. Swallowing hard, you found yourself nodding in agreement. Just because you agreed didn't mean that you would do it. Figuring that your best course of action would be to follow behind him, hopefully unseen, you had to appear obedient before making the attempt.

"Good. Now, stay fucking put and I'll be right back." One last inspection was given to you before he turned heel and began back down the hallway. You waited just a few moments, listening closely as the steps just began to fade away before you.made your move. The entire maze was disorienting but he made enough sound by the slimmest of margins for you to be able to follow. Was it a safe assumption to think that he would be moving to some sort of exit? Maybe and maybe not. Time would be the only way to tell.

Ahead, the sound of a door being opened echoed out. Well, that spoiled a lot, but it didn't exactly signal a complete end to the spying idea. If you got lucky and the door stayed open. Given how the night had gone, maybe you had used up all of the luck that a person was allowed in a lifetime. But, the risk was well worth the reward.

There was a sliver of light guiding the way, hinting where the almost invisible door was. If you weren't trying to stay quiet, you would have cursed, violently and loudly. That was how these fuckers were slipping around unnoticed. Of course. Nothing to be done with that information now. Rather pointless to focus on it when the important bit was the murmured voice on the other side of the door. For a moment, you thought that there might have been more than one. Straining to hear, eyes closed and leaned as far forward as you cod be without giving yourself away, you realized it was only one. His. Low enough that it was nearly impossible to fully make out each word but the timber of the voice that had just sent shivers down your spine was now unmistakable. Only every second or third word was caught.

He most certainly was talking about you. But was he talking to anyone? Those sick fucks running the thing were clearly watching so he could have some way to communicate without their voices being heard by others. Right? Maybe. Your fingers, weak and injured from the long night, couldn't keep their grasp on the wall, causing you to loudly stumble forward, actually falling right to your knees by the door. Well, that certainly would alert him that you hadn't stayed put like demanded and promised.

The door ripped open, and there he stood, eyes wide and alight with anger.

“Told you to stay the fuck put!” The words came out in a growl as he swiftly reached down and grasped your arm, yanking you upward. “Dumb fucking bitch.” Off balance, the pull that he gave towards rhe room that he was in had you stumbling again, barely able to keep to your feet. You didn't know what was going through his head but he was leading you somewhere and you were far too exhausted at this point to give much more of a fight. If this was the end, so be it.

After a few minutes, you noticed that you didn't hear any other sounds. No voices, no pipes banging, no hissing of steam. It was far more quiet than any other section of the hell maze had been. That piqued your interest just a little bit. Either he was taking you somewhere private to kill you or…

The possibility sparked that survival instinct once more, and your eyes moved to the tall man that was just ahead of you, jerking you around by the ironclad grip he had on your wrist. Could he possibly be getting you out of here?

“You say a word, I'll change my mind about it all. One fucking word and I'll happily give you to to those two clown brothers.” The words were final and for once, you decided that it was best to listen to what you were being told. It seemed that maybe, your luck hadn't run out entirely. You didn't know what this meant or what his ultimate plans were for you. Maybe you were better off dying but it was an unknown and one that you weren't willing to chance. “Rich old fucks are gonna end up taking half my fucking pay for this shit…” Getting outside served better for you to have the chance to escape anyway. Following your twisted, psychotic soulmate was the only path forward that you saw. Hopefully it would work out.

#slasher imagines #slasher writing #horror writing #slasher x reader #slasher x you #richard brake characters #nano 2023 #31 #doomhead #doom-head #doomhead x reader #doom-head x reader #doom head x reader

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salemshotspot · 2 years

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SLASHERS WITH A READER THAT PICKS AT THEIR SKIN:

Includes: Chop-Top Sawyer, Bubba Sawyer, Luigi Largo, Otis Driftwood, Freddy Kreuger, Doomhead

WORD COUNT: 2k

DESC: How slashers/horror characters would react to their partner picking at their skin

No use of gendered pronouns/anatomy

WARNINGS: Skin Picking//Anxiety//Drug Use//Slight Self Harm//Not Proof Read//Swearing

Enjoy!

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Chop-Top Swayer:

I feel like he would notice your scalp picking pretty quick but not really say much at first; not because he didn’t care but more of the fact he picks at his scalp a lot [because of his plate] so he assumes it’s normal and nothing to worry about, he’ll just assume your head has been particularly itchy lately like his plate from time to time.

However one rare evening where no one had any pressing matters to attend to you sat with the Sawyer’s to have dinner and afterwards you all sat and watched the television.

Drayton had absolutely no interest in the television because “tv isn’t as good as it once was" so he just kind of looked around the room aimlessly and it just so happened that his eyes landed on you as you were picking at your already damaged scalp.

Drayton goes in a partly joking tone "fuck y/n has chop-top been rubbing off on you that much, you’ve been picking at that darn head more than him lately.”

You just awkwardly laugh trying not to bring more attention to the matter and move your hands away from your head, feeling yourself grow more anxious about the fact attention was brought to the matter.

After a few minutes you make up an excuse along the lines of “I’m tired I’m going to head upstairs” and quickly rush to the bedroom which you share with Chop-Top.

Chop-Top would notice you left when he went to place his arm around you and he couldn’t feel you there.

He would be confused as to where you were because he wasn’t paying attention because he was focused on the tv after it caught his attention, however when Drayton explained in a slightly annoyed tone that he made a, slightly, joking comment and you upped sticks and went to what he assumed was sleep for the night Chop-Top was puzzled to say the least.

He decided to make his way to the bedroom which he shared with you to see if you were ok, however when he walked in on you close to tears, struggling to breathe as you was trying to hold in your tears, he could tell you wasn’t holding up too well.

He isn’t too familiar with people expressing feelings around him as due to his nature and the whole family business he never really formed bonds with anyone, let alone him comforting them.

It’s safe to say his first thought would be to freak out, threatening to kill whoever upset you [very aggressively.]

I feel like he’d also just kind of stand in the door way while he tried to work out what to do, he hates seeing you like this but he also hates knowing that he doesn’t know how to help.

He’d eventually land on just holding you, still freaking out inside.

When you finally calm down and regulate your breathing he would 100% try and break the silence with a joke.

”We all bored you to tears down there y/n?” He anxiously jokes.

“No it’s not that” you trail off and take a deep breathe; you then explain everything to him from how anxious you’ve been feeling to how you’ve been stress picking at your scalp.

He feels immediately guilty because he noticed it happening but said nothing about it.

It’s safe to say after that you both lay in each other’s arms for a long time.

As he is also prone to picking at his scalp Chop-Top knows how you feel better than anyone and in turn has a long list of ways to try and help you stop, or at least reduce how frequently you pick at your scalp.

Chop-Top would definitely be one to advocate getting high whenever you were stressed {and he certainly wouldn’t be opposed to getting high with you, apparently it’s "good couple bonding.”

Despite his best efforts, he shows his support in the most round about, ‘Chop-Top’ way possible, for example he’d tell you that “your scalp is far too pretty to hurt” [he thought it was endearing.]

Most importantly he’d want you to know you can talk to him, even if he’s not the best with his words.

I also feel like he’d pat your head a lot to try and comfort you whenever you were stressed so you would be less inclined to pick at your scalp.

Bubba Swayer:

He wouldn’t notice the scalp picking but he’d notice the cuts on your head; basically he’d just start seeing more cuts and marks through your hair and royally freak out.

Immediately wants to, violently, kill whoever kept hurting your head.

This idea was very quickly put on the back burner once you explained that you did it yourself.

I don’t think he’d fully understand it, like he finds hurting others, when deserved, very therapeutic because it’s what he’s always done but he can’t wrap his head around the idea of self-inflicted pain.

Although he doesn’t understand it he wants to listen to you talk about it to try and understand it better so he can support you the best he can.

Would most likely end up hugging you so tight that you thought you was going to die after you explained everything in detail.

If he ever saw you picking at your scalp or looking anxious he would just place his hand on your head and kind of just leave it there? You found it very comforting all be it confusing at first.

Luigi Largo:

Luigi isn’t the world’s most observant man so don’t be surprised if he doesn’t notice your nervous habit straight away.

I feel like he would find out in the most unconventional way, not because he’s oblivious, he’s just so focused on work that he pushes everything aside.

I feel like him finding out would be something along the lines of Pavi bringing it up, like casually asking Luigi how you was doing with the whole thing [because let’s face it, pretty much everyone else has noticed you picking at your head once or twice when you was stressed because you’re too overwhelmed to try and be discreet about it.]

This would cause Luigi to become, even more, short-tempered declaring “if something was going on he’d know.”

On the outside he’d become much more hostile but he would be internally freaking out because he’d feel awful for not noticing if this was happening and convince himself that you’re going to leave him for ‘not caring enough’ or something like that.

He’d eventually psyche himself up enough to go find you and try to talk to you about it, however he’d do it in his own round about way.

"I’m going to kill Pavi” he shouts as he enters the room.

”It’s nice to see you too Luigi” you’d chuckle.

Part way through his rant he’d explain that he was mad because Pavi had essentially made him feel like a bad boyfriend for not noticing that you’d be struggling.

You’d have to get him to backtrack for a moment because he’d miss a few key points such as what Pavi had meant by “you’re struggling” as he apparently put it.

After he explained everything you’d probably have to reassure him that he isn’t a bad boyfriend; despite his demeanour he’s really insecure because of the lack of affection from his dad growing up.

Now he is aware of your problem he’s really observant, like scarily observant.

Your hands move? He’s looking to make sure you’re not stress picking your skin, he’s been busy and hasn’t seen you all day? When he sees you he checks to make sure you have no cuts on your skin from picking.

If you have been picking at your skin he would be concerned; he isn’t the best at talking about feelings but he’ll listen to you and try his best to understand.

If he noticed you were getting anxious and picking at your skin he would definitely be the type to just grab your hand and keep hold of it to comfort you and stop you picking at yourself.

He’s very protective of you as it is but he would probably get more protective; like if he even thinks someone or something might be stressing you out he’s resort to violent means instantly [which isn’t anything new.]

Otis Driftwood:

I feel like he’d either be exactly like Luigi Largo in the sense he’s oblivious and wouldn’t notice without someone bringing it up or he’d notice straight away, I feel like he’d be in a bad mood and notice you picking at yourself and it would annoy him so he’d tell you to stop [which would in turn make it worse.]

When you didn’t stop he’d go to question it but when he noticed you were stressed he’d be confused; “what the fuck is up with you?”

I don’t think he’d completely understand what was the matter when you explained how you felt but he’d understand enough to know that he should probably keep an eye on you.

I don’t care if you agree with this, I will die on this hill, if you were really stressed and started picking at your skin, he would just swat your hand away from your head.

However, I feel like Otis would also kiss your head, when no one was looking, and I will not take arguments on this one.

Freddy Kreuger:

Freddy would be surprisingly observant of you, so when you start picking at your head when you’re stressed or anxious, he will notice.

He wouldn’t try and be gentle and ‘walk around the topic’ he’d just ask you about it straight up.

I feel like he’d be really sympathetic and understanding of the whole situation.

After you spoke about it he would probably try and cheer you up afterwards and take your mind off of it to cheer you up by telling really shitty jokes.

I feel like if he saw you getting really anxious and start picking at your skin his first thought would be to kind of prompt you to stop by gently pushing your hand away from your head and try to take your mind off whatever is making you anxious by completely removing either you or whatever is making you stressed or anxious from the situation.

If that failed to work he would take matters into his own hands, quite literally, by keeping hold of your hands until you’ve calmed down.

He would probably just talk to you until you felt better, whether it be about the situation or talking about something completely random to try and take your mind off of it; he’s definitely a talker.

Doomhead:

He would without a doubt notice your habit straight away, he seems like the kind of person to notice *everything* for no other reason than paranoia; he needs every element of his surroundings to be in his control all of the time so he himself doesn’t become stressed so in turn he pays attention to everything all of the time.

He would try and make you feel better and, at first, make you feel worse.

"Can you stop doing that, there’s better things to be doing” was meant to be endearing and meant to show you that you don’t have to hurt yourself but it came across as him calling your habit stupid.

When you started crying at his comment it’s safe to say he’d be confused as fuck; “what the fuck are you crying at now.”

Once you explained it he’d fee quite bad but he wouldn’t want you to know that; he’d just explain that that’s not what he meant.

If he ever saw you getting anxious or stressed I don’t think he’d try and physically stop you he’d just shoot you a look or say something to you.

If you didn’t stop picking at your skin after he brought it up he would then physically move your hands and give you a long ass talking to about why you shouldn’t do it.

TLDR; if he sees you picking at your skin he will give you a lecture.

He cares about you, he just doesn’t really know how to show it so it manifests in him acting like a pissed off parent or teacher.

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A/N >> God I wrote this so long ago, drop writing requests in my inbox!

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