#i need to think of an actual otp name for him ughhhhhh

[hopelessromantic-ghost]

the mind electric

Pairing: Jason Voorhees/Me!!! TWs: descriptions of death, mentions of blood and gore, stalking A/N: This is extremely self indulgent, lmfaoooo. can be read as a gender-neutral reader, though!! I love sharing my love with this hunk of a zombie lol. also i know the ending is SUPER cheesy, im sorry sdkjsndvkjdnv 

---

“You aren’t supposed to be here.” Stunned in place, I manage to mumble what I can while my mind cranks into overdrive. It’s certainly not the first time a group of campers have edged so close to my home, our home deep within Camp Crystal Lake, but I’ve never had someone break into the cabin in the dead of night. I stumble a bit, desperately wishing I hadn’t left our bedroom at all to investigate.

An injured woman approaches me, her full cheeks stained with dirt and tears, her dark hair tangled and, at some sections, pulled so hard from the roots that streams of blood pool down her neck. She grasps my arm, startling me out of my stupor. “Please, god, please help me.” Her grip tightens, acrylic nails digging into my skin. Jason has been out hunting and, judging by the absolute panic in her expression, he’s not far behind. I swallow, bowing my head and avoiding her eyes as best as I can. He’s always taken care of his business away from home; as much as I love him, what he does always leaves me a bit nauseated if I think on it for too long. Face to face with one of his victims feels like a nightmare -- I break out into a cold sweat the longer I try to ignore her. “He’s coming, we-- we need to hide.”

There’s not a place in this area we could hide even if I wanted to. I want to say something, warn her that staying in one place won’t help, but the second I raise my head, her expressive eyes bore into mine, glassy and so human that my heart breaks. Something about her -- the brown of her irises, the curl of her hair -- reminds me suddenly of my mother.  

In an instant, the wood of the front door splinters wide open. What little remains of the solid oak slams against the plaster of the wall, echoing so loud that even I jump out of my skin. The stranger screams, staggering backwards and effectively hiding behind me with a death grip on my shirt.

At this angle, Jason Voorhees doesn’t look like my sweet boyfriend. All six and a half feet of him crams into the open space of the door, his shoulders hunched and his blood-stained machete aimed high. I can usually spy his sunkissed blue eyes peering through with love and devotion, but with only the pale moonlight glimmering through the window, the holes of his hockey mask are pitched black. Some raw excess of unadulterated hatred and anger crowds around him like an aura, and when he stomps toward us, I can’t help but feel as though he doesn’t even see me.

The camper shrieks, scrambling for purchase and forcing me to stumble with her. “Please, please stop!” She cries.

In a wild, split second decision, I gather as much of my stilted composure as I can and raise my hands. “Jason! Jason, stop it!” But he doesn’t seem to hear me. He strides across the living room in a few short, lumbering steps, his grip on the hilt of the handle tightening. “Jason, please! Look at me!” He’s going to attack me. My head spins with barely concealed terror as I reach up, close enough to grasp the sleeve of his jacket. “Baby boy, look at me!”

That does it. Jason stutters in his motion, breathing hard. His head snaps toward me, but still, I can’t read anything through his mask.

“Jason,” My voice shakes. I force myself to remember that I’m not talking to Jason the killer, Jason the ‘monster of Camp Blood’; I’m speaking to my other half. Jason, my gentle boyfriend, my kind and soft significant other. “Jason, it’s okay. I know she’s not supposed to be here. She’s leaving right now, okay?” I find his free hand and intertwine our fingers. Sparse, thin strands of what feels like hair wind loose around his palm, pressing under mine and catching beneath my fingernails, but I try my best to ignore the alien sensation. “She won't come back. It’s okay, sweetheart.”

At first, Jason doesn’t reply. He doesn’t even acknowledge me, though he makes no attempt to push past me. I hold my breath, bracing myself for the worst possible outcome, and at long last -- he lowers his machete and nods.

I can hardly believe he’s listening to me. I gape for a second, unable to grasp the overwhelming amount of trust he’s demonstrating, and then I surge forward to hug his hulking frame. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” I murmur, decidedly also ignoring the warm liquid seeping into the front of my clothes. I hope to god it’s not his blood, but the possibility that it’s someone else’s also serves me no comfort. Still, Jason melts little by little into my touch, though his muscles remain tensed even through his clothes. He knows I can’t stand the killing, and it’s beyond touching he’d let me intervene.

As soon as I pull back, I kiss his mask and smile. With very little remaining space between us, I can finally see his eyes, narrowed with a resigned sort of love that leaves my heart full and warm.

“Come on.” I spin on my heel and find the woman shell-shocked, staring wide eyed at the both of us. It must look so strange, I muse absently, for the camper to see someone communicate and embrace the monster that has slaughtered all of her friends. Had it been me, I wouldn’t even know what to do with myself. But there’s no time for explanations, and I don’t want to test Jason’s patience more than I already have tonight. Steeling myself, I grab her arm and force her up to her feet. “Come on, you need to leave right now.”

+++

Guiding the stranger around Jason’s mountainous form is a task in and of itself, but to my dismay, the journey through the woods also proves to be a stressful trial. A deep muffling darkness blankets over the wilderness, hiding the trails well even with the waxing moon as our only light, but it becomes soon apparent that the night doesn’t quite mask all the horrors. As soon as we approach the bridge, my companion startles and stumbles, choking back her sobs. The carcass, someone from her group no doubt, slumps half in the water with a broken wrist caught on the edge of the platform and a stream of red discoloring the river around him. I glimpse at the gruesome sight for only a second longer before I refocus on the edges of the trail, wrapping my arm around her shaking form and leading her past.

Not even a few paces later, we find another one of her friends on their stomach with their entire head missing. How many of her friends had she lost just within the past twenty minutes, rushing to cross the bridge in hopes of finding freedom?

I sway a bit, a ravenous sort of guilt clawing through me. It’s best to block it out, I remind myself. They don’t deserve to die, but they shouldn’t have desecrated these woodlands the way they have. It was either them or Jason, and I’d sacrifice all of them if it meant my love would come home to me safe.

Out of nowhere, the stranger jumps out of her skin and screams, knocking us both off the beaten path and into a nearby tree. My hand whips out, barely catching the tail-end of a sturdy branch, and I wince as the rough, jagged bark embeds across my palm with a few angry scratches. “What?” I hiss, casting a glimpse across our environment. There’s no wind tonight; none of the finicky weather that often plagues these parts of the forests -- it’s eerily silent. “What is it?”

“That--” Her voice shakes, softly, as though she’s afraid of being overheard, “That thing’s still-- still following us. It’s-- It’s--”

I raise my gaze over her shoulder, and true enough -- Jason Voorhees stands within a thicket of trees, still as a statue with the stained blade of his weapon barely peeking through the leaves. He’s far enough that I would have never noticed him, let alone hear him. I’ve always known my boyfriend has a gift with his stealth, but it’s something entirely different seeing the results in person. “He’s not a thing.” I reprimand, patting her bloodied fist balling my sleeve. “And he’s just making sure you leave. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but he really doesn’t like trespassers.”

If I know Jason, though, that’s only half the reason. His protective streak is a few miles wide, and I’d wager a lot of money that he’s already prepared to kill her quick should she try anything.

+++

“This is as far as I can take you.” As soon as my feet bump against the elevated asphalt of the desolated main road, I take a step back. The stranger nearly breaks down, pulling me into a hug so tight that I’m half convinced she’s suffocating the both of us. But I endure it, winding my arms around her and rubbing her back while an onslaught of tears dampen my shirt and shoulder. She’s going home to her family, and though I know this camp will haunt her, I’m beside myself with relief that she’ll be alive to make it home.

After a few moments, she draws back, her hands sliding to my elbows in a familiar, friendly expression. “Thank you.”

“I’m glad I could help. All I ask is that you don’t tell anyone what you saw tonight, okay?” A startled level of incredulity crosses her features, but before she can protest, I raise my hands, placating, “I know, I know. But by the time the police get there, there won’t be any bodies to find. No one is going to believe you.”

“They’ll have to believe us if we go together.” She pleads. “We can escape together.”

“Escape?” It’s too hard to suppress my laughter, though I can practically feel how out of place it sounds. “I’m not trapped here. I can leave any time I want, but…” At this, a soft, dreamy smile stretches over my lips as I think of moments stolen with the love of my life -- early morning cuddles and sleepy, late night conversations with no words spoken at all. I glance back at the woods, searching for that wonderful, worn hockey mask, but he’s nowhere in sight. Even so, I can feel his gaze on me, and a delightful shiver creeps up my spine. “Nothing could take me away from him. I love him so much.”

The stranger frowns, withdrawing from my space. I do my best to ignore the disgust, the confusion clouding her features as she reluctantly lets go of my hand. “Okay…” She murmurs, pressing her now free hand over an open gash on her shoulder. The stranger nervously glances at the opening we emerged from, as if expecting an ambush, and then she nods her head. “Well, thank you. For everything.”

With that, the stranger spins on her heel and limps alone down the road’s decline. For a few minutes, I watch her pushing along, fighting with every step to return to what remains of her normal life. No doubt, she’s going to tell everyone and the police will be here by morning, but I can’t help but imagine the rumors that will spread through town. Jason Voorhees and the strange human alongside him, disrupting and, of course, terrorizing any campers unfortunate enough to find themselves within the woodlands of Camp Crystal Lake. I grin and finally turn towards my home, eager to share the rest of my life with my one and only Jason.