#michael & dawn

[ingravinoveritas]

David, Michael, and the joy of being together...

| GO 1 press tour, 2019 vs. TV BAFTAs red carpet, 2024.

[gayofthefae]

Get you a ship who can do both.

Yes, the love is mutual

But so is the "really? him?"

[winterfieldfrontiers]

She doesn't want to be here. takes her out!

[amberpriceenthusiast]

Josh is the type of guy who’s a loser but for some reason everyone has a crush on him

[away-at-late-dawn]

A Kiss

Summary: It's a rainy day, but a peaceful one. Michael is there with you, listening to music that both of you like. As per usual, he's very handsome. Annnnd kissable. Fluff (arguably tooth-rotting).

Pairing: Michael Myers x GN!Reader

Word Count: 708

Warnings: N/A

Notes: hi! i've been a longtime lurker but i ought to throw my hat in the ring and share some stuff i write. and since it's halloween, why not share a lil' drabble with michael i've had in my notes? pls enjoy!

☆.*•°

You were close to Michael, you would say. Close enough to be comfortable in each other's presence, to be together and not utter a single word. To know what he likes to drink in the morning (oat milk Swiss Miss hot chocolate in a pumpkin mug you don't remember buying), or what he sounds like when he's wandering around your place (silent, unless he's shuffling around in his pajama pants or wearing that bracelet with the bell you gave him). To know that, maybe, he was growing on you.

Or, actually, for lack of a better word, that he already grew on you a long time ago.

He was rough, calloused, deep inside his shell. Feeling some connection, you slowly lured him out with pleasant little things, things that you liked and that grounded you but then soon learned he liked as well: sweets, games, plants, movies, music. It took a bit, but you were proud of him finding things he could enjoy; things that reminded him that he was human, after all. And happy, of course, to find something of a kindred spirit in him too.

You had his (and your) CDs in your hands, and you yourself were leaned against him. A far-off place in your mind registered the pattering rain as you shuffled the cases between themselves.

It was peaceful.

You turned slightly to look at him, at his tousled hair, the playful upturn of his nose, his clouded eye. His earbuds were in and he was clutching one of the throw pillows on the couch, unfocused but happily enjoying his music. Seeing him that happy brought about a swell of affection from you.

It was peaceful, even beautiful maybe, you decided.

So it wasn't the first kiss, or the last, but when you sat up to gently hold his face in your hands and ask for one, you felt a nervous thrum in your chest anyway. You petted his hair to calm yourself, though Michael cutely relaxing into your touch (after a moment of surprise came and went) left you more flustered than you planned.

But... it couldn't hurt to ask him now, now that you had his attention.

"...Kiss?" You mouthed.

He blinked, purposeful and slow. Popping out his earbuds and putting the pillow to his side, he let himself relax into your touch, looking at you through his lashes. Lips parted and expectant, he silently granted you permission.

So, despite your nervousness, you brought your lips to his, closing your eyes as you did. On your cheeks you felt his eyelashes flutter softly, and he held his breath as you started the kiss.

You heard the pillow softlythwump to the ground, Michael shifting himself to place his hands on you. You would've thought that you'd feel his strength radiating from him but it seemed he wanted this to be as gentle as you did. His arms wrapping around you were grounding. Your presence brought him bliss, and gentleness would ensure you could not be hurt. You went and leaned in closer, and he sighed against your lips.

The rain continued to tap on the windows. Fabric rustled as Michael held onto you, his head at an angle as he quietly deepened the kiss. His hair shifted, and from your half-lidded eyes you watched it elegantly fall along his face. A sight to behold, for sure.

Soon, out of breath, you broke the kiss. Though you still felt a tingling of embarrassment, you couldn't help but sigh back at him, smitten, his face still so close to yours. Affectionately he let out a huff, pressing another kiss into the side of your head, holding you there. A moment after, he came to life again, reaching for the earbuds and leading you down on the couch with a playful peck on your cheek. Memories of past experiences like this played in your head, and you had no doubt he was planning on laying on you and letting you play with his hair, a favorite pasttime of his on lazy days and quiet nights... This time, with music.

The enthusiasm infectious, you chuckled, quickly moving the CD covers out of the way before you felt your back softly bounce on the seat of the couch.

[ruewrote]

𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑖 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢.

PAIRING: mike munroe x fem!reader WARNINGS: too little too late, no use of y/n GENRE: angst SONG INSPIRATION: i know you by faye webster WORD COUNT: 1k

navigation | ask | michael munroe masterlist

you found yourself once again caught up in the tangled drama that was michael monroe. you and mike had always had an undeniable connection. one with stolen glances, inside jokes, the kind of chemistry that hovered just shy of something real. 

but as soon as emily and jessica started competing for his attention, you’d backed off, deciding to not get wrapped up in someone else’s chaos. it was easier to watch from the sidelines, letting your feelings slowly drift into the background. at least, that’s what you told yourself.

but here you were, sitting beside him on the edge of a worn couch in the lodge, both just soaking up the atmosphere of the now quiet lodge. most of the group had gone to bed, leaving you and mike to sit alone in the dimly lit room.

you’d come down for a late night snack and found him sitting there, looking ost in thought. you almost turned around, but when he looked up and met your gaze, he gave a small smile, motioning for you to join him.

“so,” he said, breaking the silence after a moment, “still awake, huh?”

“could say the same to you,” you replied, settling into the cushion beside him, careful to keep some distance.

he chuckled, leaning forward and rubbing his hands together as if trying to warm them by the fire. “yeah, guess i just can’t sleep with everyone up here again. reminds me of the last time we were all together…before everything got so complicated.”

you scoffed, shaking your head. “by ‘complicated,�� do you mean the whole emily versus jess war?”

mike’s expression softened, almost guilty. “yeah, that’s part of it.” he glanced sideways at you, eyes flicking over your face. “kinda miss when it was just…simple, you know?”

you raised an eyebrow, feeling a familiar warmth in your chest. “maybe it wasn’t ever simple. maybe we just wanted it to be.”

he didn’t respond right away, just stared into the fire, looking pensive. there was a time when a pause like this would have meant something. a heartbeat of possibility. but that was before..

“didn’t think it’d end up like this,” he finally said, his voice quiet. “feels like we’re all different people now.”

“yeah, well, some people change more than others,” you replied, trying to keep the edge out of your voice. you hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, but seeing him in front of you. just you and him. stirred up all those old memories, the times you’d wondered if maybe he felt the same way. 

the question you’d never gotten around to asking because, sooner than you’d realised, there was jessica draped over his shoulder, or emily fuming by his side.

his mouth twitched, and he looked over at you, that familiar, easy smile tugging at his lips. “is that your way of saying i messed up?”

“maybe,” you said, meeting his gaze, unflinching. “or maybe it’s just me realising i made the right call in staying out of it.”

“ouch,” he said, but there was a glint in his eye, and he didn’t look away. “guess i deserved that.”

you bit back a smile, leaning back on the couch, feeling a bit more at ease as the memories softened the edges of your irritation. “you absolutely did.”

mike laughed, the sound light, almost free. “you know,” he began, leaning back as well, mirroring your position, “there was a time when i thought maybe…you and i…”

“don’t,” you cut in, holding up a hand, a half hearted warning. “don’t even go there.”

“what?” he asked, his tone teasing but his eyes a little more serious. “afraid i’ll ruin your pristine opinion of me?”

you scoffed, rolling your eyes. “what opinion? the one where you’re a magnet for relationship drama?”

he grinned, but there was something softer in his gaze now, almost regretful. “maybe i am. but if i am, it’s only because i got distracted…didn’t go after what i really wanted.”

a flicker of surprise flared in your chest, and for a second, you could feel that “what ifs” creeping back. “and what was that?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

the room seemed to still as he held your gaze. “i think you know.”

the words hung between you, their meaning clear, yet unsaid. there was something vulnerable in his expression, something you hadn’t seen before. you swallowed, the weight of your choice pressing down on you.

there was a part of you that wanted to reach out, to close the space between you and see if the years of missed chances had only made the spark stronger. but another part quickly remembered the way your other friends felt about him. 

you glanced away, breaking the spell. “too bad you didn’t realise it sooner.”

he nodded slowly, his face falling just a bit. “yeah,” he said, his voice quiet. “too bad.”

the silence was thick, filled with all the unspoken things that had been left behind. you could feel the shift, sealing off a path you’d once been tempted to take. maybe it was for the best. you’d walked away from his chaos once, you could do it again.

but just as you were about to stand, he reached out, his hand catching yours in a gentle, hesitant grip. his fingers were warm, grounding you in the present moment, pulling you back before you could leave. you looked down at his hand, then back at him, a question in your eyes.

“hey,” he said, his voice softer, a little unsure. “i know i’ve made my share of mistakes. but…maybe this time, we could try again. just you and me. no drama. no distractions.”

you swallowed, his words stirring something long buried. but the memories of watching emily’s furious glances and jessica’s possessive hand holding still lingered, reminding you of all the things that could go wrong.

you slipped your hand free, giving him a small, sad smile. “maybe, mike. maybe someday.”

he nodded, the faintest hint of a sad smile tugging at his lips.

“i’ll hold you to that.”

comments and reblogs are appreciated ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

© ruewrote 2024.

[tayjerma]

vaguely evil man with doe eyes I love you ♡

[katie-kats]

I was watching Good Omens for the first time and I had a realization.... the couple (Aziraphale and Crowley) in Good Omens are played by Michael Sheen and David Tennant but my sick mind thought of the other characters that they play, specially Aro from Twilight and the Tenth Doctor from Doctor Who. So, my idea was born 🤭: Aro x the Tenth Doctor. I found nothing online regarding this (albeit ridiculous) ship so I felt the need to photoshop these masterpieces. Disclaimer: I don't actually ship them I just needed to share this.

[joshgoesnuclear]

some of my fave screenshots of mike from the remake

[heohl-art]

a little bit off(GoodOmens)topic but I was rewatching Aro's scenes and just wanted to draw something about him✨

• Aro and the young Jane and Alec •

I don't like the movies very much - even though I read the books A LONG time ago - but I always wondered more about how Aro met Jane and Alec. Of course the costumes don't fit (since they met in IX century, I think), but I had fun drawing all of them✨

well, I'll go back to draw Good Omens stuff, bye bye🩷

[laurakearney]

meanwhile in a different universe

[e-m-ma-lmfao]

"We're gonna get out of here, I promise"

pairing : mike munroe x (fem) reader

cw : mike has a gun, talk of death, and blood, and maybe like one swear I don't know. reader is referred to as mike’s girlfriend, but other than that i don’t believe any female pronouns are used.

a/n : i know this is kind of late since the until dawn remake has been out for a while but i kept procrastinating this after I started it. anyways #needthat.

The wind pulls at you from every angle, hair clinging to your sweaty, frostbitten cheeks. Adrenaline kept your body moving through the never-ending maze of trees and snow; you didn’t think it would last much longer. You were sure if you continued in this direction, eventually, you would reach the sanatorium. 

It was marked on the map in the cable car station, the same map you had seen before you made your way up to the lodge with Sam and Chris. That was hours ago, and you wish you could go back and warn yourself to go back down the mountain. Or even better, ignore Josh’s email altogether and stay home. Play sick. You’d say anything not to be where you are, right now. 

But that’s not possible, is it? 

Your clothes are sticky with blood. Not your own, you think. You hope. This night was not turning out the way you had expected it to. And the choices you had made leading up to this point were beginning to make your stomach turn the longer you thought about them. 

Why did you leave the lodge? You could’ve stayed on the kitchen floor after that psycho knocked you out; you could’ve pretended not to hear Chris’s attempts to wake you up. You could’ve looked for a phone instead of rushing into the snow to find Ashley. Speaking of them, why had you left Chris and Ashley? You could’ve returned to the lodge with them to find Sam after witnessing your friend be sawed in half, but no. You needed to know that Mike was okay considering you hadn’t seen him since you both arrived. 

Why did you start that argument with Mike before the two of you had left for the lodge? 

“C’mon, don’t be like that.”

“Like what?”

“You're getting jealous over nothing. We’ve talked about this, there is nothing between me and Em. I’m with you. I’m in love with you. Why does this keep being brought up?”

“Maybe because she texts your phone like you're still close? ‘Text when you and the new gf get here, can’t wait to see you, winky face’,” you push his phone towards him. “She knows who I am, why does she feel the need to refer to me as the ‘new girlfriend’ as if we’ve never met? And why is she sending you winky faces? Why exactly is Em so excited to see you, Mike?” You make a point of emphasizing her nickname which seems to flow off his tongue so easily. 

“You’re looking into this way too much. This is crazy, I mean come on, that’s how she texts everyone, baby.” He gently takes his phone from you, throwing it onto the bed and reaching back for your hand which hovers in the air. You let him, but you make no effort to hold his hand back, fingers only resting in his hold. A soft sigh leaves your lips. 

“Yeah well, I’m not loving that she texts you that way and I’m also not loving the fact that you’ve said nothing to her about how weird it is. You have no problem defending her when you talk to me, so why can’t you say something to her about how I feel?”

“If I said something it would just cause a fight between me and her, or you and her, and the last thing that anyone needs up there, especially Josh, is for all of us to be fighting. Can you pretend to like her, only for the weekend, and then you never have to again.”

“You say that every time she’s involved, ‘just pretend to like her for tonight, and then you never have to ever again.’ But I will, because for some reason she is always around. I figured when Matt and she started dating we would see her less but I guess I was wrong.”

“Please, let’s just go and get it over with. We’re doing this for Josh, remember?”

“I don’t know, Michael, something about spending an entire weekend with your ex-girlfriend isn’t really appealing to me anymore. Call me crazy.” His eyebrows soften as you use his full name, especially in that tone. He is enjoying this conversation less than you are. 

“Don’t be this way, we’re already packed and ready to go. Just come downstairs and get in the truck. She won’t bother us, baby, I promise. Come on..” He attempts to pull you, gently bringing your hand closer to him. But your fingers slip from his hand, dropping to your side. From the bed, his phone buzzes, the screen lights up, and you don’t have to look to know who’s messaging him. 

“Sam told me she's taking the bus up there, I think,” you look back to him, “I’ll just head up with her so she doesn't have to go alone.”

“But then I have to go alone. And the bus leaves in like an hour, that's barely enough time to get ready and get to the stop. You're being ridiculous, just come with me. And if you want to, we can talk about this on the way up.” 

 You look away from him, missing the way his face falls as you turn your back to him. “I’ll see you up there, Mike.”

If you had just let it go, believed him, and gone with him instead of taking the bus with Sam, you would’ve never been angry with each other at the lodge. Or rather, you wouldn’t have been so furious with him because you would’ve talked things out in the truck, kissed, and made up instead of stewing in your thoughts on the bus. You wouldn’t be worrying about whether or not he was alive right now. But you were stubborn and foolish, and now you are trudging through the snow, improperly dressed, and praying the person you love is still breathing on this stupid mountain. 

You cross your arms over your chest, preserving what little warmth you have left, and with every step you lose another piece of hope. All you can think of is him. And how, if he is dead, he would’ve died thinking that you were mad at him. You weren’t even angry, annoyed for sure but not angry, you were just being stubborn and taking your frustration out on him. Now you might never get to apologize. The thought makes your stomach churn and your steps falter as a wave of nausea overtakes you. 

But, finally, in the distance you see the outline of a large building surrounded by a brick fence that appears to be falling apart. You allow yourself to be comforted, just for a moment, by the sanatorium's existence. The nausea in your stomach ceases as your steps quicken, arms uncrossing to move through the air. You reach the gate, blocked by the large pile of snow blocking both sides, not that you think you could’ve pushed it open in your current state; blocked from snow or not. 

You let your hand trace across the gate's bars as you walk towards the side of the fence. The pads of your fingers sting from the cold metal but you keep them where they are. As you move, they follow, moving from metal to brick. The only way into the sanatorium courtyard, you realize, is to climb over the stone fencing. 

A tired sigh leaves your body. You place your hands on the wall, palms stinging from the snow-covered surface. You lift your body, throwing your leg over simultaneously, climbing on top to straddle the snowy stone. The action uses more energy than you realistically have left so instead of gracefully landing on the other side of the wall you fall, directly onto your back. At least the pile of snow beneath you cushions your fall a tiny bit, but it still takes you a few minutes to recover your breath. 

Using the wall, you find your footing again. The snow falls from your clothes as you stumble towards the sanatorium. You don’t even know what you were expecting to discover here. You figured there might be people here. Maybe a construction crew, getting ready to tear the old building down. A custodian, forced to stay and take care of an abandoned building. Or on the slimmer side of chance, a large group of stable nurses and doctors that would offer you and your friends shelter and much-needed medical attention. However, the closer you get, the more you realize how fucked you are. Nobody is out here. And it was stupid to believe there would be. 

But you’ve come this far, and the chill that runs through your body borders on hypothermic potential. You reach the front doors, using your body to push the door open, shoulder first. It opens far easier than expected, and you fall to your hands and knees as it flies inwards. “Fuck.. me.” 

You don’t move from the floor, the opposite actually, you get closer to it, falling onto your back. You don’t even want to get up. No one is here. All your friends are probably dead back down by the lodge. What’s the point? At least this way you’ll have time to think over every choice that led you here, it’ll take a while for the cold to kill you since your feet are the only part of you still lying outside the building. From farther within the entry hall you hear a door open, the sound of steps echoing through the empty building. And though your heart rate picks up speed, you don’t move. Instead, you pray that whatever it is, will kill you quickly so you can be with your friends again. So you can be with Mike. 

“Who’s there? Whoever it is, just know I am armed and I am not afraid to shoot you. I have had one hell of a night and I am so not in the mood for.. whatever it is that you want.” Even with your heartbeat drumming against your ear canals, you still pick up the voice. A man's voice. Almost recognizable. You let your eyes close, murmuring the only thing you can think of like a mantra. Mike. Mike. Mike. Mike. 

“Holy shit. Y/n?” Mike? You turn your neck enough to see the man approaching. A sudden second surge of energy fills you, and you lift yourself into a sitting position to fully face the figure walking towards you. 

“M..mike?” 

“Holy- Oh my god, how are you- Are you okay?” He falls to his knees in front of you, dropping the gun and the lantern in his hands on the floor. His hands hover around you, scared to touch you. You notice that two of the fingers on his left hand are missing, replaced by a bandage soaked in blood.  Your hands are the first to make contact, landing on both sides of his dirty face.

“Are you real?” He nods, pulling you into a too-tight embrace. A stark contrast to his previous concern and reluctance to touch you. 

“Yes. Yes, I’m real. I’m so glad to see you. You’re alive.. holy shit I can’t believe you’re alive.”

“You look terrible” You wipe away some dirt from his face. Eyes wide as you try to convince yourself that he is actually in front of you. You had convinced yourself that he was dead, and now to see him in front of you alive and well - okay maybe not well but he’s not dead - it has your brain moving a mile a minute. There is so much you have to say. So much you have to explain to him. How do you explain to someone that his friend was sawed in half on the anniversary of his sister's death? Or how do you explain that the rest of his friends might ALSO be dead? And without sounding insane, how do you explain that you truly believe something is up on the mountain with you and that it might’ve followed you the entire way to the sanatorium? You can’t.  

“Well, I’m happy to see you too, baby.” He laughs breathily, unsteady. A laugh of disbelief. His way of coping has always been humor, even at the most inappropriate of times. Your features are probably the exact opposite of his uncertain smile. You pull him close again, practically pushing him to the ground, but his arms wrap around you and he straightens his back to keep the two of you upright. “Woah, I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here.”

You push your face into his shoulder, saturating the filthy, green jacket that he wears with tears. It stinks like cigar smoke, years of sweat buildup, and dirt. 

“Mike- Oh Mike,” your voice is muffled in his skin, pausing in between sobs to catch your breath. His arm wraps tighter around your waist, the other arm reaching up so his hand can rest in your tangled hair. “I’m so- I am so so sorry Micheal. I thought you were dead, I thought- I thought you died thinking I was angry. I’m so sorry, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s okay. Don’t apologize. I’m just- I’m so glad you’re alive.” He kisses your temple, and as you raise your red face to look him in the eyes, he moves your hair out of your face. “We’re gonna get out of here, okay? Can you walk? God, you must be freezing. Did you come all the way from the lodge like this? Fuck, y/n, how are you even alive.” You shake your head, a silent confirmation that you don’t know how you’re alive either. 

He helps you to your feet, taking off the unfamiliar jacket and helping you into it. He then retrieves the lantern and the gun from the floor, “Here, can you hold this up?” You nod, and take the lantern from his hand. In the hand opposite of you, he holds the gun, and with the other, he intertwines his fingers with yours. “We're gonna get out of here. I am going to get you out of here, I promise.” He’s so certain, and your fear almost dissipates completely as he leads you farther into the sanatorium with a tight grip on your hand.

[autumn0689]

Imagine being Michael Munroe. You go back to the mountain where two of your friends disappeared, you go with your girlfriend and you leave with a variety of injuries (including two of your fingers cut off) a new jacket, a bucket load of trauma, a possible criminal record (if he kills Emily) and a wolf friend. Truly The Character™️ of all time

[poetfrog]

[amberpriceenthusiast]

I made another one

[away-at-late-dawn]

Welcome Home, Michael!

Summary: Halloween is over, and Michael is coming back home. fluff/drabble Pairing: Michael Myers x GN!Reader Word Count: 584 Warnings: N/A Notes: here i am, back again with the michael x reader contenttt sdkfjhsdkj hope halloween was all right for you! i had an idea to write about him coming back home after being out, and here's the end result. it does fit his regular slasher self, but i also have this idea for a peaceful au version, and i think that this fic fits it just as well. i'll probably post about it sometime next :] anyway, pls enjoy!

🌌+☆°⋅. (turn the page)

Halloween was over. The cold of the outside air emptied into the open rooms like a spirit passing through one’s body, a supernatural force that would chill them to the bone. With it came the scattering fall leaves, the smell of night rain, the sounds of lone cars fearfully inching down unfamiliar roads… And a familiar shape. From a shadow to a man, Michael slowly stepped in through the frame, hands free and loose, the right one gently uncurling from the doorknob. He was calm and collected, slinking like a panther into its home. Then, with suddenness, the lights overhead flickered on to reveal you already waiting for him.

—

There were so many kids who visited today. The candy bowl had to be refilled three, maybe four times. They would ring the doorbell so often that you went and layered underneath the costume you had and found a comfortable spot out on the porch, but the cold found a way to seep in as the evening turned to night, and even later still. When you went back inside and turned off the Halloween lights, you quickly went for the couch and the blankets draped across it. You fell asleep to a movie, even if you were enjoying the premise.

Sometimes the house felt empty when it was just you there. Like Michael had to come back for it to be whole again. The feeling was nothing unbearable, and yet, when the draft at the window woke you up, you found yourself walking aimlessly throughout the house. You realized, subconsciously, you were looking for him. Soon enough you settled near the front door, bringing a chair to wait on and a blanket to keep you warm. 

—

Michael almost twitched in surprise when he saw you. 

“You didn't think I'd be up?”

Michael remained still. No.

“Honestly, I didn't expect it either.” You had to chuckle at yourself as you glanced at the clock nearby: uncannily late.

Michael toed off his boots and pushed them away into the corner, at the door, quietly glancing up at you. Naturally, maybe instinctively, you went towards him, opened up the blanket, and wrapped him up in a hug; he slipped into your arms so easily.

“It turns out I missed you more than I thought,” you admitted, muttering it against him. You felt him clutch you slightly, the warmth spreading from his hands. “Welcome home, Michael.” You closed your eyes and rubbed his back for a bit before adding, “And Happy November First, too.”

“Heh,” came his reply. He nuzzled his face into you almost forcefully, a bit embarrassed at how loud his voice was.

Soon enough, the both of you let go, shuddering at the chill. The night was nowhere near young, and the both of you were feeling the exhaustion. The trip back to your room was a bit long—Michael tripped on something on the way back—but it was all right besides. Of course, he brought you candy, and you had to laugh at the fact as you dropped them gently onto the nightstand. There was plenty more candy left.

"I'll tell you about the costumes I saw today," you told him as he got into his sleep clothes, and he gave you a peck on the cheek as he got comfortable. He seemed excited to hear about it, even if he fell asleep immediately after he settled into bed. It was cute.

He was cuddled up against you all night, if not all morning.