#and I don't want the defense to be 'they were few and underpaid' so fucking pay them

[alicepao13]

...anyway, it will be pretty fun only having new episodes of Hudson and Rex to watch next season.

[cannibal-witchh]

" Would you still love me?"

Pt. 1 Intro

Michael Myers x Fem Reader

Written by cannibal_witchh

Contains: Vulgar language, blood, slow burner maybe??

Notes: Hey, friends! This is the 1st part to my Michael Myers x Fem Reader. It will eventually become naughty so look out for the next few parts! It is also meant to be somewhat comical as well. Hopefully you guys like it. I also don't mind if you guys request things. I'd love to write more. 💖

The candles emanated a warm hue from the carved jack-o-lanterns that traced the yards of Lampkin Lane's houses. Decayed orange leaves blanketed over the dried lawns of every home. You shuttered as a gust of wind hit you, and leaves danced around you. "Geez...", you sighed crossing your arms to keep warm. Children's laughter scattered within the chill air as you could see costumed youth skipping and venturing door to door for candied spoils. You were headed back to your apartment, it was a rough day, and you wanted to immediately sleep it off. Hours of subjecting yourself to an underpaid office job was taxing you. Constant bickering from customers, constant counterproductive tasks you juggled, and elevating anxiety occupied today. Your office was on edge, today was the infamous holiday that left a staple to Haddonfield. The day The Boogeyman murdered numerous people and returned on multiple occasions to temporarily satiate his desire to play god. You were exhausted from hearing the legends of Michael Myers repeatedly within the month of October. Quite frankly, you didn't care, and you were tired of being fed the constant fearsome tales.

You finally managed to get to your apartment, it was nooked in the corner on Lampkin Lane, and it was a small collection fo apartments. Most people forgot it was even there, they were ancient, and mainly the elderly resided in it until they passed. You managed to inherit it from an uncle. And since the rent was so cheap you couldn't decline. You didn't care that this street was supposedly "haunted". You rummaged through your backpack to fish out your keys until you successfully retrieved them. Rain began to pour down on you, and thankfully, you manage to barely escape it and slip into your home.

You were drenched from just a brief moment of standing outside. You wiped your feet and kicked your shoes off. "Ugh, it's fucking cold.", you complained and headed to the bathroom to take a hot shower. About twenty minutes passed and you dressed yourself in some comfy clothes. A crop top under a cardigan, shorts, and some tall socks. You had no intentions of answering the door for any trick or treaters and you planned to keep your lights off to show it was unwanted. When you exited the bathroom, you noticed something particularly off. There was mud prints tarnished into your wooden floors, and some books toppled over onto your rug. " Oh for Christ's sake.", you sighed too tired to have any desire to tidy up the place. Your attention was interrupted as you heard your closet door shut gently. Fuck. Who the fuck was in your house? How long were they here? You were clever enough to resist announcing yourself presence. You tip toed to your kitchen to retrieve a kitchen knife and a frying pan for defense. Your heart loudly beating against your chest, your cheeks buzzing from fear. You made your way to your bedroom where a small night light was dimly turned on, illuminating items resting beside it, and stretching shadows along your wall. That absolutely confirmed another's presence was here. You heard shallow breathing from behind the closet door, and your heart dropped from your chest. Any courage you carried immediately dissolved within seconds. You weren't sure what to do, clearly who hid behind the door could see you. Your closet had the retro shutters and you could easily peak through. You froze, inaudible, immobile, and absolutely quivering from the fear that engulfed you. There was a few minutes of absolute piercing silence. The shallow breathing had ceased. Was the person injured? Did they just fucking die?

You finally built a small wall of courage, and ripped the door open. To your surprise a very tall man was sitting on your floor with his head tilted down. His large hand gripped a large tarnished kitchen blade. Blood staining the silver. His body gave no response to your sudden pulling of the door open. His head remained down. You gently brought the pan to his chin and lifted his head up. He was masked, and dressed in a tarnished and tattered boiler suit. Oh, shit. It was fucking Michael Myers. He still did not respond to your actions. " Michael?", you ignorantly voiced, taking a few steps back. Still nothing. What were you suppose to do in this situation? Michael was in your home, dressed in gore, and you knew cops were useless against his strength. There really didn't seem to leave many alternatives.

Two hours passed, it was completely dark outside and Halloween was close to drawing the curtains. Michael had began to take slow breaths within the time you spent cleaning up the gore and dirt he left around your home. You couldn't manage to remove him from the closet but you did take his knife away and store it in your kitchen. You went back into the bedroom to check if he was awake yet and he was now standing completely straight up looming out the window. "Michael?", you choked witnessing him slowly turn to you. " I dressed your wounds.", you pointed at his arms, bandaged tightly with blood seeping through the cloth. Michael tilted his head and examined his arms. He began to approach you and you took several steps back to maintain distance. " I didn't call the cops. I know its probably stupid of me. But...I know what your capable of...I didn't want to put more lives in danger.", you admitted drawing your eyes up to his. He took a deep muffled breath, and continued to approach you. Here it goes, your life was going to be collapsed at his hands. Your heroic decision to spare police officers' lives at the expense of your's. You looked at him like a deer caught in headlights. You froze yet again at the sight of The Shape. You felt his hands slowly wrap around your neck, and a firm grip began to close in on you. "Wait! Wait! Please! I'll let you stay here, I'll cook for you, shelter you, and I will keep you hidden!", with what little breath you had to spare, you bellowed out that proposition. Not even realizing what you said, you were just at a thread of desperation, seeking any option to free yourself from his grasp. To your disbelief, Michael released you, and his hand fell limp to his side. You greedily gasped for air, and even choked on it with how much you took in. " Thank you...thank you.", you wheezed falling to your knees. " Can we come agree to that, Michael?", you cleared your throat and straightened your posture. Michael nodded, and looked down at you. He was so tall, miles and miles of muscle built him. You couldn't help but briefly admire it. Maybe it was the near death expierencing talking. Maybe it was thankfulness, who knew. " So now that we've come to agree to this. I'm going to need you to clean yourself up. You absolutely stink and I can't have you tracking DNA all over my rug and furniture.", you tried your best to maintain a stern tone, and tried your best to show less fear. Just addressing his poor hygiene was enough to send you running out of your body if he was offended. Michael didn't seem to reject the demand, he slowly zipped his boiler suit, a dull tank top was underneath, tufts of chest hair teasing under, and defined muscle dressing his shoulders and arms. It was enough to make you grow a touch bashful. " You don't have to strip infront of me.", you hid your face and looked the other way. He ignored your comment and continued to strip. " You hear me?", you glanced over and he was shirtless and his boiler suit was to his ankles. You immediately shot your head away, you only got a glimpse of his bare chest. His chest was very toned, however, he had a little dad stomach. Still, that was right up your alley. "Woa, woah, geez. Ok follow me.", you continued to shield your eyes to avoid invading his modesty. Really, though, you felt like he had no consciousness of it being an issue. You led him to the bathroom, and explained how your shower operated. " I'm going to leave the door open in case you need me, okay?", half of your body was out of the door way and Michael ignored you and began to step into the shower. " Right, I fucking forgot. You're fucking the silent type.", you sarcastically said under your breath. Roughly fifteen minutes were exhausted, and the scent of feminine body wash filled the steamy air. It humored you to imagine a mass murderer getting sudsy with your girly soap. You felt a heavy daze drape over your eyes, and you began to slowly drift off. The distant sound of rain was making your eyes grow tired.

Roughly fifteen minutes past, and the sound of a twisted shower knob awoke you. The water stopped as you took a few seconds to rub the sleep out of your eyes. You blinked to adjust your eyes and there Michael was. Looming over you, and his head hanging down to you. Jesus, fucking creepy. He had your pink fluffy bath towel wrapped around his waist, and his wet hair peaking from under his mask. "Hey.", you greeted with a monotone voice. " I put your clothes in the washer, it's probably going to need to go through a few cycles from the...you know. But I left my ex's clothes on my bed for you to try. I doubt it'll fit or be up your alley but -", before you could continue, Michael walked off to your room. " You're welcome!", you sarcastically chirped. You had to cope with your sarcasm, it felt like within hours your world was flipped around, you somehow become roommates with a mass murderer, and you practically became his accomplice.

Michael walked into the living room, to your surprise he didn't look half bad. He barely fit into a sleeveless black shirt, and he managed to slide into the tattered black jeans you laid for him. He looked strangely like a 70s dad with how the jeans hugged him. " Wow, Mikey.", you admired him for a brief second. What the fuck? Am I seriously checking out a guy who just tried to kill me a bit ago?

"Ok, we gotta lay down a few rules.", Michael tilted his head and you got a glimpse of a dull blue eye. A scar dragged across the skin surrounding it, leading you to believe he had an injury there. His pupil did not dilate or seem to focus on anything. Strangely, it was hauntingly charming. It almost seemed like there was still life in his dead eye. "I need you to not bring attention to my house. I've practically under some strange reason...decided to make you a house husband...so please...don't kill people or bring that shit in this house. I'm basically hiding you, clothing you, and feeding you. Can you please do that for me?", you twirled a strand of your loose hair and watched his other eye. It pierced into you, it felt just as if your soul was being pulled out of your body as you stared into his eye. Michael gave a soft nod and you didn't buy it but you were trying to hold down a glimpse of optimism.

To be continued...