Jason Voorhees x Reader Oneshot

Well, heck.

You wake up with a jolt, clutching your chest as you try and even your breathing. Your eyes dart around the room, scanning for answers to what you thought was a scream.

Slowly, you creep out of bed, cautiously wrapping your hand around the doorknob. "Anna? If this is a joke it's not fucking funny," you whimper as you exit the cabin.

Another scream

"Anna?!" You scream out frantically, trying to figure out where the yells were coming from.

You peer around the side of the cabin and that's when you saw it. A man crouched over Anna's lifeless corpse, pulling out a machete wedged between her ribs.

You cover your mouth to muffle your scream as hot tears streamed down your cheeks. The figure cocks his head towards you, dark eyes peering from behind the mask. You stare back, whimpers managing to escape your throat.

'P-please!' You gasp out.

He walks towards you, blood stained machete in hand. Your eyes widen as he lifts the weapon above his head. Instinctively, you throw both hands in front of your face. The blade comes down swiftly as blood begins to gush from the palms of your hands.

You yelp, trying to back away. He takes another large step towards you. You fumble in the dirt, trying to help yourself up, only to fall back down onto the ground.

The distinct taste of earth and copper left a sour flavour through your mouth. You spat the residue out, blood dribbling down your chin.

You snap your head back around to the man. He remained too still, almost lifeless.

'What do you want?!' You manage to scream out, wiping the stream of tears out of your eyes.

He looks down at you, then to his large hand in front of him. You look down at your own mutilated hand. Wincing at the sight, you shake your head furiously.

'Fuck off!' You shout, clenching your fists. Blood had started to trickle down your wrists.

The muscular figure steps towards you with his hand still held out. You spit again, this time on him. That made him mad.

He lets out a low grunt from behind the mask before sweeping you up. You thrash and struggle in his firm grip, screaming incoherent things as he carries you through the forest.

You couldn't fight him anymore. Fists pounding against his back became sobbing into his blood soaked clothes.

After a while, everything became silent except for the crunch of twigs and leaves and the occasional grunt he does.

You sniffle, looking up at your prosecutor clearly for the first time. He wore a large hockey mask with the dull details almost fully faded away.

He glances down at you. Quickly, you nuzzle into his chest, avoiding contact with those cold, murderous eyes.

~~~~~~~~

After what seems like hours, you appear in front of a dimly lit shack. It was petite in size, showcasing a small wooden door and a window.

He ducks inside and places you down gently, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly.

"I- My h-hand..' you whine, looking down at the squeamish sight. He grunts, giving a slight nod as he disappears into another room.

You look around. The interior seemed bigger than expected. A cozy living room connected to a bedroom, small kitchen and bathroom.

He peers out from the washroom, gesturing for you to come in. Sliding onto the sink bench, you cautiously hold out your hand.