#michael myers x obsessive!reader

[sinfulwrites]

Their Favorite Sex Positions

Hello hello~ I was scrolling my dash and came across @missjellyhead and her post on the same topic and wanted to write my own with my faves... Give their post some love! I messaged them for permission, but I'm not sure if they're active lately....

I'm trying to get back into the groove of writing again. Please accept this small drabble!

Enjoy!

NSFW warning.

Michael Myers: Michael is prone to having sex wherever he is. Why waste time going to the bedroom when he could fuck you now against the wall? Michael can hold you up effortlessly, so if your legs are getting tired, he will simply scoop up your legs and continue fucking you. If a table is nearby, Michael will bend you over it and fuck you from behind. If there’s anything on those tables, they will be rocked off by the strength of his hips. If you are in bed, though, he is still inclined to fuck you from behind. He feels more comfortable taking his mask off and biting on your shoulders when you can’t see his face.

Jason Voorhees: Sex is a sacred thing to Jason. His beliefs are rather traditional, and as such, his preference is missionary. In the bed, in a dark room where he can be comfortable taking his mask off and lavishing you with kisses. Jason is not opposed to other positions, but his go-to will always be missionary. In his mind, doggy style is the dirtiest.

Thomas Hewitt: Thomas was raised in a traditional home. He was taught that sex was purely for making a baby, and it would be done in missionary under the blankets. Meeting you and starting a sexual relationship had changed his views on the matter, but he is still inclined to fuck you in missionary. He loves the closeness, seeing the faces you made in response to what he did to you, and of course being able to kiss you. In the early mornings before his work, Thomas liked to pull you close against him and have some slow morning sex. Spooning you allows him to keep you even closer than missionary can, and allows him to have a shameless grab at your chest. There has also been more than one occasion of you two being outside the home getting in a quickie in Thomas’s lap. Riding him is a treat to him, as he has an obligation to himself to make you feel good. Knowing you want him to feel good gets him all emotional afterwards. Expect a tight hug and tons of kisses.

Asa Emory: When Asa fucks, he fucks hard. If the bed isn’t slamming into the wall, he’s not doing it right. Doggy style gives him the freedom to pound into you without your hips and thighs restricting him. His preference for anal also makes it even more appealing. Doing it from behind also gives him the freedom to slap your ass and yank your hair back to whisper in your ear about how much of a slut you are. Watching your face as he fucks you is also ideal, however, so if he fucks you from the front he shoves your knees into your chest to give himself complete access to slam his hips into you. He will use rope to tie your legs where he wants them so he can leave his hands free to choke you as his cock knocks the wind out of you. We would be here all day if we brought up all his bonds and sex chairs…

Jesse Cromeans: Jesse loves to see the faces you make as his cock slides in and out of you. He especially loves to make you see yourself with his mask. Spreading your legs and fucking you on your back is a safe position for him, but it is far from the only way he enjoys you. His favorite is fucking you in front of his giant mirrors. Jesse will bend you over on your hands and knees and fuck you from behind so he can pull your hair and make you watch in the mirror as his hips slam against your ass. He shamelessly enjoys being ridden and will happily prop himself up on his pillows and let you ride away. He loves to film you riding his cock, and he will definitely have you watch the tape with him later. Other days, he will have you ride in reverse to watch it in his mirrors. In the back of his car, he loves to make you ride him until the car is rocking. 

[ghostlycod]

slasher/horror movie au where ghost is the slasher/monster (obvi) and reader is the final girl (or guy or they) who decides to hunt the killer back at the end and lays out all of these traps to injure him (manages to deal some damage) and almost catches him a few times and in their final showdown you’re coming at him with a fucking chainsaw—

and the guy’s just watching you go completely feral, bloody and snarling, clothes torn, dirt caked under your nails and on your face, hair askew, actively trying to kill him, and he’s like “oh wow, so this is what being in love feels like”

[ghostybat00]

*⁠.⁠✧Michael Myers with a chubby reader*⁠.⁠✧

🔪:I think he would be the type of yandere that wouldn't care about his s/o's appearance. (I mean, I think Almost no one in slashers cares about appearances, anyway)

🔪:I think he would like a chubby s/o more, anyway he is very strong, literally superhuman strength, why do you care so much if you "weigh too much"?

🔪:He would continue carrying you with ease.

🔪:It would be like a type of...personal feeder? He likes to feed you even if he is the most expressionless man in the world, Inside he loves it, he loves feeling like your protector, although he doent's show it .

🔪:He would enter your house, he would enter wherever room you are and he would stare at you, and then he would leave you a small sweet or snack, like some chips, cookies, or just a jelly bean close to you, and then he would leave. (Spoiler: The snack/candy wrapper may be bloody, but you can always clean it!)

🔪:This man loves your curves, he will randomly take you in his suffocating arms and squeeze you the air outside of you.

🔪:He may be the most expressionless, but it seriously bothers him, it irritates him that people make fun of or make comments about your appearance, which leads him to kill anyone who even makes a comment at you.

🔪:This will probably lead him to discover a somewhat strange fetish of his, he loves to watch you eat, seeing food put to your lips is a great turn on for him.

🔪:Fruits, sweets, spoons, it doesn't matter, as long as he can see your pretty lips around the food and see how with each step of the month that passes with you see how your body looks curvier and chubbier It excites him so much that he wants to just throw you on the floor and fuck you pretty little mouth :3

🔪:If one day you have a drop in self-esteem because of your appearance, he would give you more comfort food, and if you don't accept it, he will be a little offended and try to give it to you by force, but he always ends up giving you little pats as a silent way of saying don't worry about it.

[amomentsescape]

Hi! I saw headcanons with slashers, with a pregnant reader that's clingy on ur account. Would it be possible to write about a pregnant reader that's irritated by their voice, or feels nauseous from their scent? (obv the reader didn't have problems like that before the pregnancy) Ty in advance! Love your headcanons and writing in general! 💞

Slashers with Sick & Pregnant! Reader

Slashers x Reader (Separate)

Includes: Freddy, Michael, Jason, Thomas, Bubba, Brahms, Norman, Billy, Stu, Vincent, Bo & Hannibal

A/N: I saw your other message and made sure to include Hannibal with this!

Freddy Krueger

As mentioned so many times before, he can literally alter his world in any way, shape or form

A certain scent is throwing you off?

No problem, he'll just change it to something that relaxes you

His voice is irritating you?

Then why not make himself sound like that one singer you've been obsessed with recently

He can fully take away your discomfort if you ask

Which is why you've been sleeping so much recently

His world, for the time being, is much better than the real one

Michael Myers

Michael is Michael

He doesn't really care to be honest

He rarely goes out of his way to speak or get all touchy with you anyways

The couple of times he has so far is met with a quiet apology as you pull away

He just looks at you and continues on with whatever he was going to do next

He doesn't take it personally

But if he has a particularly rough night, then sadly for you, there is no denying him

If he wants to sit next to you then nothing is going to stop him

Jason Voorhees

He knows he probably doesn't smell the best, considering his current... state

But every time you make a face or scoot a few feet further away, Jason's head noticeably falls

You've apologized to him probably a million times by now, and you constantly reassure him that it's just the hormones

He believes you, but that bullied little boy is still in his mind sometimes

He's doing his best to be strong for the both of you, but it's tough on him

The only solace is at night when you're already asleep, and he can finally curl up beside you in peace

Thomas Hewitt

He's fairly understanding of it all, and he always waits by the door in the morning to see if you need help with anything

All it took was ONE time when you pulled away early from a hug, and he basically avoided you like the plague for the rest of the day

It's killing him not to be close to you, but he is not willing to over step your boundaries

He'll just act as your personal assistant for the next several months, fetching you anything and everything you could possibly need

He's happy to wait until things can finally go back to normal again

Bubba Sawyer

Poor guy has no idea

You can explain this to him in every way possible, but he still doesn't understand

It's worse too because he's been extra cuddly with you knowing that you have a little one growing inside you

But his giggles have been too pitchy, and no amount of showering seems to remove that bloody aroma off of him

Even his mother has tried to explain to him why you're reacting like this, but all he hears is that you don't want him around

He's quite literally going to be acting like a kicked puppy until your hormones get sorted out

Brahms Heelshire

Yeah, this isn't going to go well

You may be pregnant, but he still needs to be taken care of too

And he's so incredibly observant

So all it takes is one crinkle of the nose or a slight turn of the head, and he's immediately on you about "when you're going to leave him" and "who the other man is"

Even if you get him to listen to what's going on, it won't matter

Nothing will change, he won't let it

You better buy some nose and ear plugs, because Brahms is desperate for your attention

Norman Bates

He understands

He literally bought a dozen books about pregnancy and how to help out as best as one can

All you have to do is mention it once, and he's to work

The smallest sounds are bothering you? He's not uttering a single word and will sound proof the house

A certain scent is making your stomach turn? He will fill the area in anything you can tolerate, so much as to switching his soaps and detergents to better suit your needs

He fully understands everything you and your body are going through in order to carry his child; the least he can do is make you comfortable

Billy Loomis

He isn't exactly the best at empathizing, so he feels like you're probably exaggerating it a bit

These things never once bothered you before, so there's no way they could be now

Takes everything very personally

If you even slightly push him away, he'll make his exit out the door

He always comes back though with a pout and a murmured apology

He has a lot of abandonment issues he's still working out

He isn't too mature with his emotions, but he's trying his best to figure things out

Will eventually do research on his own and see that things are backed by science

Won't stop him from still pouting though

Stu Macher

Apologizes for just being in your presence

Once you explain how you're feeling and what's bothering you, he'll be your biggest supporter...

From the other room

You wake up to warm tea and snacks most mornings since he knows he can be in the same room when you're asleep

Will become a bit deprived of affection after a while though

So he'll sneak into bed with you once you're already asleep and will be out before you wake up the next morning

He explains that it's important for him to spend time with you both

May still give you the occasional hug out of nowhere

He just can't help it

Vincent Sinclair

He's going to 100% respect your wishes, but he's definitely sulking any time your back is turned

He gets it, he knows about the hormones and science of it all, but damn

It hurts him so much to know that something so natural about him can be making you sick like this

He's kept his tinkering to a minimum since the noises have been hurting your head

He's taken to showering multiple times a day too since it's the only thing keeping your nausea at bay

He knows you don't mean harm by it, but this phase is going to feel like an eternity for him

Bo Sinclair

Sympathy isn't exactly in his vocabulary

He won't really do or change anything at first

But if you complain about it for long enough, he'll finally give in

But he isn't really going to do anything that actually benefits you

He'll buy nose and ear plugs for you so that he doesn't have to change anything himself

He still expects you to watch and eat whatever he is feeling though

He's trying to be there for you the best he can, he just hasn't had many experiences of empathy in his life

Hannibal Lecter

He understands and will act ever so maturely about it (like always)

He'll stop wearing his usual cologne and aftershave if it bothers you

Will only cook certain foods around you that you can tolerate

The rest he'll cook privately

If his smooth and suave voice bothers you for some reason, he'll be happy to communicate through gestures and looks

He's willing to adapt to your needs since he knows the severity of pregnancy and hormone changes

He's truly the "ask and you shall receive" type partner

[ghostiesnightmare]

The Subject

Pairing: Michael Myers x Female Reader Summary: As a graduate student writing your dissertation on the enigma of Michael Meyers, you try to prove his acts of violence fulfill a dark, psychological need- a crude substitute for intimacy. When Myers resurfaces, your academic obsession drives you dangerously close to the darkness you have been researching. The deeper you delve, the clearer it becomes that you aren't just studying the monster; you're caught in his gaze. TW: DARK content, extreme gore, descriptions of a dead body, mutilation, murder, weapon play, copious amounts of blood, alcohol, foul language, stalking, non-con, nudity, violence, intense paranoia and fear, power imbalance, degradation, unprotected sex, restraints, rough sex, abuse, blood as lube, creampies, and more Word Count: 12,657 MDNI-NSFW A/N: This is incredibly dark, please read the TW's before continuing.

-----

Every child grows up hearing the story about the Boogeyman. What many consider to be an old-wives tale that serves to trick young children into obeying their parents, the reality of the situation can be much more sinister. Terrified at the prospect of being stolen out of their beds in the middle of the night, they learn to obey their parents, set the table, and have good manners. Haddonfield, however, is plagued by its very own boogeyman, those knowing the story refusing to even mention his name out of fear of summoning him and invoking his wrath. Michael Myers; a force that many can only describe as the essence of pure evil. 

Still at large, Myers’ kill count only continues to soar after his untimely escape from the Smith’s Grove Sanitarium, leaving countless detectives baffled at his ability to evade law enforcement. The nature of his crimes, although gruesome, begs an unanswered question to his motives: Why? Was Michael Myers a forgotten member of society that snapped under the pressure of household stressors? Was he simply “born evil”? Or is there a deeper rooted cause for his bloodlust for violence? The seemingly intimate nature of the unspeakable crimes seem to point to a forgotten theory: What if Michael Myers was a sexual deviant, the thrill of the hunt better than any orgasm intercourse could provide? 

You paused, leaning back from your desk riddled with papers, empty coffee cups, and almost illegible notes. Rubbing your eyes, a frustrated sigh huffed from your lips as you scanned the words again, the bold text of your introduction glaring back at you. Something about that final sentence– it wasn’t right, not compelling enough to capture the intensity of your theory. Leaning forward, you deleted the sentence, fingers tapping away at the keyboard as you typed: 

The undeniably intense nature of these crimes are marked with a chilling, hands-on approach, raising a disturbing possibility: for Michael Myers, the thrill of the kill transcends primal violence, serving as a perverse substitute for human connection.

Brows furrowed, you gnawed on your bottom lip. It was better– but not quite there. Grabbing a red pen, you glanced at your to-do list, the bullet points feeling a mile long as you jotted down: Fix Introduction– final sentence? Groaning slightly, you looked upwards, the words:  Dissertation Defense: one month! staring back at you from a neon post-it note taped to the corner of your clunky macintosh computer. Your chest tightened, anxiety spiking at the almost unending list of corrections, evidence gathering, and typing required in the next few weeks. Your pen clattered against the desk as stretched, joints popping from the pressure, a tired yawn escaping. You needed coffee– desperately. Eyes shifting through the introduction for one last measure, you highlighted the final sentence as yet another reminder to tweak your work. Before you could finish, however, your swirling thoughts were crudely interrupted at the jolt of your door swinging open, accompanied by your roommate’s dramatic entrance.

Kimberly waltzed into the small bedroom, permed curls bouncing as she balanced a concerning amount of Chinese takeout containers. “Jesus, you need to open a window in here– it smells like a library.” She cringed, ruffling her nose as she hurriedly dumped the takeout containers on your floor. You rolled your eyes at her theatrics, pushing away from the desk before plopping onto the shaggy carpet, unpacking the haul. “Says you, beaver lady, every time you come back from the lab you reek of pond water.” You teased, and she huffed. “That’s so not true! And stop calling me that, once you read my totally rad argument, you’ll never look at them the same!” She defended, offended at your jab, sitting in front of you and grabbing a box of lo mein from the takeout pile. You grinned at her antics, perfectly manicured hands struggling with the wooden chopsticks as she shoveled the noodles into her mouth. 

“Okay, okay fine– just stop calling me Hitchcock and I’ll call it even.” You joked, stomach growling as you grabbed your own pair of chopsticks, rummaging through the pile for your kung pao chicken. Kimberly was not only your roommate, but best friend from highschool, with both of you deciding to apply to colleges together during your senior year. Now, almost six years later, you were joined at the hip while you worked towards your Masters Degrees. Your mouth watered as the comforting taste of chicken and tangly vegetables invaded your senses, stomach growling as you devoured your meal. Kimberly shifted, lo mein sauce dripping down her chin. “So… how’s the paper? I swear if I write anymore my brain will literally explode.” She pouted, glancing at the whirlwind of papers dotting almost every surface of your room. You shrugged, choking down another bite, chopsticks still gripped in your hands. 

“It’s going well… I just feel like it's missing something. There hasn’t been a killing pinpointed to him in months, and I’m getting tired of reading over the same reports and crime scene photos–” “Ew, I’m eating. No gore, please.” Kimberly shuddered, and a tired chuckle escaped you at her squeamish nature. She paused, chewing on her bottom lip before speaking again, the friendly atmosphere in the room hardening. “Do you… think he will be back?” She muttered, and your smile fell. Pondering, you set the container onto the carpet, wiping your hands on your bell bottomed jeans. “Probably,” You voiced finally, “–why? Are you scared a big bad killer will come after you?” You mused, shoving her arm playfully, causing a startled squeak to escape from her. “Uh, duh. I don’t know how you aren’t terrified of Mr. Boogeyman.” She retorted, nose scrunching at the prospect of the masked psychopath. 

“With my research, I’m sure he doesn’t want to be within 100 feet of me, scared I'll finally prove my theory.” You joked, falling backwards onto the floor and staring at the ceiling, food abandoned. “Ugh, I’m pooped. I feel like I could sleep for years.” You complained, joints stiff and mind heavy. Kimberly slammed her plastic tupperware onto the floor, the noise jolting your gaze towards her as she stared at you with newfound conviction. “No can do, missy, we have to go out!” You groaned, pushing yourself upwards by your elbows. The last possible thing that you needed was to be pressed up against other students at a dive bar drinking your night away, much rather preferring a hot cup of tea and a good night’s sleep. “I can’t, I have to wait for a call from the police station to get more files-” Kimberly let out an exasperated sigh at your statement, silencing you.

“C’mon… Halloween is a few days away and Fowl Play is hosting their annual costume party. I swear if you stay in this room any longer you’ll fade away. Mr. Slasher can wait.” Kimberly persisted, standing abruptly and turning to rummage through your closet, throwing random articles of clothing onto your bed as she searched for a costume. You began to protest, but she cut you off. “I’ll buy your drinks,” She mused, voice full of mischief as she pulled a lace bra from the pile of clothing, holding it up to her chest and striking a lewd pose, causing a smile to break out on your face. “It’s late anyways, the detectives can call you in the morning… please?” She begged, those brown doe eyes pouting as she bargained with you. A defeated sigh escaped you, and you shuffled upwards, padding over to her and snatching your bra from her grasp. 

“Two drinks,” You stated, fighting off another yawn, and she squealed in delight. “You’re the best, you know that? I promise it will be fun. Now go figure out a costume! We leave in ten minutes.” Kimberly called over her shoulder, rushing to the door and heading to her room, the whirlwind of movement just as chaotic as when she arrived. The door slammed shut, and you grimaced, dropping the bra back onto the bed. Glancing back to your desk, you sighed, rubbing your temples. Just a few hours, and then you would be back to work. What could possibly go wrong?

__

“What on earth are you dressed up as?” Kimberly questioned, voice barely audible over the thumping synth at Fowl Play. Tugging the thin strap up your shoulder, you glanced down at the now-ruined satin dress clinging to your skin. Pulling your costume together took sheer willpower and luck, finding a half used canister of fake blood from one of your Sociology projects hidden away in the kitchen cabinets. “I’m Carrie White, duh.” You mimicked her iconic catchphrase, gesturing to the plastic crown on top of your head. She rolled her eyes, shoving a Tequila Sunrise into your hand. “Always so morbid, you creep.” She teased, tattered sleeve brushing against you as she showcased her zombified cheerleader costume. 

Fowl Play was the place to be in Haddonfield, usually packed to the brim with college students throwing down shots under the illumination of neon lights after a long school day. Today was no different, a colorful glow cascading through the crowd decked out in ripped jeans, leg warmers, and hair teased to the ceiling. Only a few days before Halloween, the theme did the holiday justice, with faux spider webs dripping from the ceiling, swaying under the breeze of the fog machine. The room was covered in a hazy atmosphere, blue lights making the plastic skeletons hanging from the rafters glow an eerie green. You eagerly sip on your drink, trying to block out the stench of sweat, cigarettes, and hairspray coating the room. Kimberly sways her hips to the beat, head rocking as she downs her drink, grimacing at the strong taste of alcohol. 

“Ohmygod, I love this song!” An excited shriek escapes her, the sound of the Bee Gees’ Night Fever tearing through the speakers. Tugging you further onto the dancefloor, you squeeze past an intoxicated Frankenstein, who glowers at Kimberly’s antics. Unphased, she pulls you across the floor, and you laugh at her easy going nature. Suckling on your straw, you quickly set your empty glass on the bar as you passed by, catching the eye of the bartender apologetically as you were dragged along. Finally reaching a suitable dancing place, Kimberly stopped, spinning you around as she settled into a groove, feet kicking and hands shaking. Stomach warm from the alcohol, you threw your head back, surrendering to the music. The dance floor was littered with costume-clad classmates, all swaying to the beat in various stages of intoxication. Glancing at a cardboard cutout of Nosferatu, you shook to the beat, eyes darting over the crowd. 

As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you needed the distraction. You couldn’t remember the last time you went off campus for anything not school related, and you relished in the feeling of the stress washing away with every shake of your wrists. A vampire and mermaid tried to do the robot, causing Kimberly to burst into laughter, cheeks flushed from the alcohol, and you gripped her hands, spinning her. The music cut out suddenly, causing the crowd to groan in annoyance. The DJ, perched behind a booth lined with cassette tapes and records, huffs into the microphone at the rude reaction. Kimberly grips your hands in excitement, realizing the votes on the costume contest were in. 

“Alright, alright, I know you all have been waiting for this moment. The winner of this year’s annual Spooktacular Showoff is, drumroll please–” The sound of rumbling thundered around the room in anticipation, people stomping their feet while waiting for the news. You braced in anticipation, excitement coursing through your veins. “ –Carrie White! Get on up here, you cool cat!” Your jaw dropped in shock, ears ringing as Kimberly screamed in excitement, practically shaking you like a ragdoll and dragging you to the DJ booth. Applause roared through the crowd, spare a few disheartened grumbles of disappointment. The DJ presents you with a purple wristband, the words Free Drinks sharpied onto the paper material. You paled, embarrassed under the spotlight, hands clammy as you gripped your prize. The DJ turned to the crowd, microphone hissing as he spoke again. “Better luck next year, everyone! Now, who’s ready to boogie?” Shoving another cassette tape into the player, the speakers thrilled to life once more, and you were left to escort Kimberly to the bar, pushing through the sea of bodies in your way. 

Kimberly leaned on the chipped wood of the high top counter, batting her eyes at the bartender before proudly pointing to your wristband. “Two Alabama Slammers please, extra strong.” She shouted over the music, and you grimaced at the high pitch. Kimberly quickly grabbed the glasses, winking at the bartender before turning to you. “See, fun right?! Now we have to stay, it’s not every night you get free booze!” She mused, gulping down her drink, other hand gripping onto yours as well. You sighed, chuckling at her inebriated state. “How about some shots? It’s time to party!” She squealed, chugging the rest of her beverage before sipping on yours, not that you were complaining. You cringed internally, quickly realizing you were responsible for her actions for the rest of the evening. It was going to be a long night…

__

After what seemed like hours of music and infinite drinks, you finally were able to pull a now very intoxicated Kimberly out of the bar, narrowly avoiding her elbow as you peeled her away from her sloppy makeout session with a football player. The cold air bit into your skin as you stepped outside, goosebumps spreading across your arms. Slipping an arm around Kimberly to steady her swaying form, you shuffled down the sidewalk, eyes scanning for a cab. Behind you, the bass from the bar thumped faintly, your drunken counterpart bobbing her head to the beat, hiccuping mid-step.  “Pshhh… that was– sooo much fun.” She slurred, breath reeking of vodka. You cringed at the smell, silently cursing yourself for not cutting her off sooner.

“Let’s get you to bed, yeah?” You muttered, trying to ignore her whining protests to go back to the bar. Sweat dotted your hairline as you pulled Kimberly along, the damp fabric of your dress sticking uncomfortably to your back. You were in desperate need of a hot shower and a good night’s sleep after a night like this, and you groaned at the thought of the mountain of work you had waiting for you upon your arrival. Kimberly stumbled, tripping over a crack in the sidewalk, almost pulling you down with her. You steadied her, bracing against her dead weight as she babbled about the Halloween decorations lining the street. Glancing around your surroundings, you silently admired the quaint houses dotting the sidewalks, pumpkins and foliage adorning their porches.

“Heyyy look, it… it’s mister boogeyman….” She spewed out, grip tightening on your arm suddenly. Her words made your stomach drop. Following her gaze, you froze, Kimberly nearly bumping into you as your feet locked into place. A towering figure stood ahead on the sidewalk, clad in the unmistakable mechanic suit and white mask you had seen countless times during your studies. Your heart seized in your chest, details from case files and crime scene photos flashing through your mind, apprehension winding in your gut. It’s just a prank, you reasoned with yourself, knowing the streets were full of replicas of the killer during the Halloween season. But as you stepped closer, unease churned in your gut. The figure stood perfectly still, like a statue, the faint flow of jack o’lanterns casting eerie shadows across his masked form. Kimberly laughed, sticking out her tongue at the male before you could stop her. “N-nice costume, creep.” She called, pointing at him. Your nails dug into her wrist as you quickened your pace, keeping your gaze forward, though you couldn’t help but spare him a glance as you passed by.

The void of the eye holes in the mask burned into you, your mouth instantly drying at the sight. “Sorry…” You squeaked out over your shoulder, hating the tremble in your voice. He didn’t move, but you could feel his gaze, heavy and chilling as you continued walking. The headlights of a taxi cab crested over the hill, and you stopped abruptly, frantically waving your hand. Relief washed over you as the car squeaked to a halt in front of you. Throwing open the car door, you  practically shoved Kimberly in, ignoring her drunken protests before climbing in behind her. The taxi driver glanced out the window, brows furrowing at the Michael Myers impersonator on the sidewalk. “He with you?” You whipped your head around. The masked man stood in the same spot as before, watching. Shaking your head quickly, you turned back to the driver. “No. Just drive, please.” He grumbled at your command, putting the car into gear and tearing away from the sidewalk. 

Your gaze creeped to the back window, leaning against the glass as you watched the masked man fade into the distance behind you. Only when he disappeared from view did you relax, letting out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. Kimberly slouched against the seat, tracing her knee with her fingertips, mumbling to herself. You could practically feel the disappointment wafting off of the taxi driver, but you didn’t care, wanting to get back to the safety of your room as soon as possible. The rest of the taxi ride went smoothly, the outline of your apartment building entering your vision after a short time. 

Leaving the taxi driver a generous tip, you dragged Kimberly from the car bed and led her towards the building. Balancing Kimberly against you, you fumbled with your keys, pushing the door open and maneuvering her carefully up the flight of stairs, trying to avoid any safety hazards as you went. Hauling Kimberly into your shared apartment, you quickly dumped her onto her bed before rushing to grab her a glass of water. By the time you returned, beverage in hand, a passed out Kimberly met your gaze, snores filling the room. Begrudgingly, you set the glass on her nightstand, pulling a blanket over her costume clad body before turning away, shutting the door behind you. 

As the door shut, exhaustion hit you like a wave. Kicking off your shoes, you head to your room, skin itching for a hot shower. Ripping the tiara from your hair, your fingers scratched your scalp, a satisfied groan escaping you as you massaged your skin. Picking up a sleep shirt and a pair of shorts, you shoved the pile of clothes Kimberly left on your bed onto the floor, mentally noting to pick up your room in the morning. You turned, arms full of clothing as you headed towards the hallway for the bathroom. The phone rang, the shrill landline tearing through the silence, and your blood ran cold. 

Snatching up the phone, you pressed it to your ear. Who calls this late at night?  “Hello?” You grumbled, irritation seeping into your tone at the delay of your pursuit of a hot shower. “Detective Langley speaking.” A gruff voice answered. A rustle of papers sounded out through the telephone, noise grainy against your ear. “... Is this miss (l/n)?” Your pulse quickened. “This is she.” “I know you’ve been working with Detective Harmon for months now,” Langley said abruptly, voice sharp with urgency and something else you couldn’t quite place. “If you were anyone else I wouldn’t be calling, but–” He paused, seemingly debating whether to continue. “... I have something better than case files for you. Can you be ready in ten minutes? I’ll have a cruiser parked at campus.” Another pause, this one more heavy. “We think… He struck again.” Blood pounded in your ears, shower forgotten as the words echoed in your mind. Excitement coursed through your veins as you dropped your pajamas onto the counter. “I’ll be ready in eight.”

__

Hair still damp from what was probably the fastest shower of your life, you shoved your keys into your bag, beelining towards the patrol car parked at the curb. Fumbling with the passenger door, you glanced at the officer inside, who you could only imagine was Detective Langley. The older man sat in his seat, fingers gripping the steering wheel, dark eyes meeting your own. You clambered into the passenger seat, buckling your seatbelt before shutting the door. Detective Langley shifted the car into gear, pulling away from the curb and moving towards an unknown destination. He glanced at you expectantly, and you quickly pulled out your small voice recorder from the bag, items shuffling around as you pressed the record button. “Log seventy eight. Thursday, October 29th, 1980. Time is–” You glanced at the dashboard for the time. “–Eleven forty-five.” Setting the device in your lap, you waited for the officer to speak, mind swirling with possibilities. 

Adrenaline began to pump through your veins, heartbeat quickening as you were possibly being escorted to a live crime scene. After pestering detectives for months, attending multiple press conferences and participating in many ride-alongs, this could be your big break for new evidence. You would be experiencing everything first hand, the prospect sending your head spiraling. Officer Langley shuffled uncomfortably at being recorded, pausing slightly before speaking. “Victim is a 19 year old babysitter. Distress call came in at eleven fifteen from the victim’s employers who arrived back from dinner to a silent house. The child she was caring for was unharmed, but–” He faltered, eyes flickering to your own before finishing “... but the victim was found dead on scene.” Your heart dropped at that, the reality of the situation quickly setting into place. Someone was murdered, and you were going on scene.

“Suspect is still at large, with many indicators pointing towards Myers. Same MO, same timeline.” Langley finished, clearing his voice suddenly. You took that as your queue and pressed the pause button on your recorder, staring at him expectantly. “Look kid, this is nothing like the crime scene photos or briefs you’ve seen. This is an active crime scene, and there’s a few rules you have to follow.” Your spine straightens, and you wait for instruction. Langley sighs, eyes steely as he cruised down the road. “You are a civilian, remember that. No touching, no pestering, and god no puking. You watch, take notes, and maybe ask some questions.” Your heart flutters, eyes trained forward as the telltale red and blue peeked over the horizon, illuminating the dashboard. “Thank you, Detective.” You whisper, nerves leaving you giddy as the car slowed, crime scene tape blocking the street. “Don’t mention it, kid. I’m doing this as a favor.” He said gruffly, and you didn’t question further. 

Police cars lined the street, officers swarming the house as a terrified family stood in the front lawn. A press van idled against the curb, a newscaster speaking to the camera with the house in the background, trying to flag down an officer for questioning. You swallowed thickly, watching the chaos unfold in front of you. Detective Langley parks the car, and you jolt out of the seat, grabbing your notebook and pen. Popping the trunk, the detective quickly pulled a blue vest over his chest, grabbing a bag before circling the car to the passenger side. An identical vest was shoved into your hands, and you quickly slipped it on. Detective Langley moved towards the lawn, pulling the crime scene tape upwards and allowing you to slip underneath. As you stepped forward, a hand quickly grabbed your shoulder, halting you in place. “Remember, no touching. And for the love of god, no recording.” You nodded, hands gripping the notebook tighter. 

The air felt heavy, tainted with the prospect of death. You meekly followed the detective in front of you, trying to ignore the puzzled looks of other officers brushing past you. Reaching the front porch, the flash of a camera within the house illuminated through the windows. A rush of officers moved through the front door, and Detective Langley pushed forward, stepping into the house. You ducked in behind him. Immediately, the bag dropped to the floor, and he pulled the zipper open. Realization hit you like a wave, you were suiting up. Mimicking his movements, you quickly pulled booties onto your feet, covering your shoes. Slipping a plastic poncho over your head, the fabric crinkled as it settled around your knees. Detective Langley paused, fishing something out of the bag before handing it to you. A ponytail. You quickly bunched your hair on top of your head, not wanting to interfere with the investigation. Pulling on a pair of sterile gloves, you straightened, covered head to toe in anti-evidence attractant. Detective Langley moved forwards, and you silently trudged after him, dwarfed in the billowy poncho and booties. As you walked, a foul odor hit your nose, causing your face to scrunch ever so slightly, brows furrowing at the smell. The smell was metallic, mixed with an earthy scent that made your stomach flip. The scent of death, you thought, pushing past another officer before entering the living room of the house, trying to steel yourself as you braved onwards. Another flash blinded you momentarily, and you blinked. The temperature dropped with every step you took, as if you were walking into a grave, goosebumps settling across your skin. Something horrible happened in the room ahead of you, and you glanced at the wall of the living room, stomach dropping at the bloodied handprint streaking against the yellow wallpaper. 

Stepping into the kitchen, you froze, blood turning to ice. A few mere feet in front of you, was a body. The first thing you noticed were her eyes, open so wide with only one expression, the sight making you falter: terror. Her face was frozen in a moment of raw fear, mouth gaped open, eyes staring back into you, unmoving, unyielding. Her blue sundress was covered in blood, the crimson pooled around her and soaking into the tile below. Skin deathly pale, covered in gashes, no doubt from a knife. You grimaced, glancing at her stomach, naval cavity torn open so feverishly you could see the yellow of her ribs, organs poking out of her, intestines spilling onto the floor. And the smell, a mix of blood and raw flesh so putrid the singular drink curdled within your stomach. You paled, head reeling as you gaped at the body, fingers gripping your notebook so tightly your knuckles turned white. 

Officers moved around the body, unphased by the gruesome sight as they tried to collect evidence. You stood frozen in place, ears ringing as you imagined her final moments. A terrible struggle. A desperate attempt to escape. A knife raised in the air. A blood curdling scream. Then, silence. You squeezed your eyes shut, the imaginary scream rattling you to your bones. The black and white photographs of the crime scenes you were used to were nothing compared to the live scene, the nature of it all leaving you feeling light headed. Detective Langley approached the body, and you weakly followed him, swallowing thickly. Crouching over the body, he glanced at you trying to avoid the pool of blood creeping towards your bootied feet. 

“See this?” He gestured, finger extended above the body, tracing the laceration on her stomach. The closeness of her body was worse, you could practically feel the terror radiating off of her, final moments ingrained permanently into the house. You trailed his movements, trying to ignore the view of the ruptured liver engorged on the tile floor. “One laceration to open her up, then short, quick stabbings. That’s why her organs look like mush.” Langley muttered, and you grimaced at the crude words. “A rage killing…” You said, mind flickering to the countless pictures you had seen in the past, frozen in time. The detective nodded, standing once more. “What do you think, kid? Your theory still make sense?” You faltered at his words, staring back at the mutilated body in front of you. Pausing, you exhaled sharply, pushing yourself into research mode. 

Flipping through the pages of your notebook, your gaze met the detectives once more, emotion seeping from you as you got to work. “The MO is identical; babysitter around Halloween found in the wrong place, wrong time. Her wounds are strikingly similar to–” You flipped through another page, wracking your brain for other victims. “–Bob Simms, who also had severe lacerations to his abdomen. This however… seems more personal. See the ligature mark around her left wrist?” You gestured to her arm, confidence quickly invading your senses, the buzz of gore falling from your mind. “He tied her up, and she escaped. He likes the chase, but when his victims defy him, he reacts poorly, losing control.” You paused, before muttering, “– Like an enraged lover.” Detective Langley pondered your explanation, nodding. “I’m surprised. You know more than I expected.” Another blinding flash of the camera, and you glanced down at your notes, quickly flipping to a blank page to sketch the basic layout of the body, marking points of interest.

“What’s the civilian doing here?” An officer grumbled out, and Langley shot him a deathly glare. “She’s with me, working to crack the case. What are you doing?” He bit out, and the younger officer paled, stammering out an apology before moving back to investigate. Turning back to you, Detective Langley huffed. “Take some time to jot down some notes, I have some paperwork to fill out. Good work, kid.” Brushing past you, Langley disappeared into the sea of officers, leaving you alone. Thoughts whirled through your mind, and you stared at the body once more, lips pursing at the sight. The more you stared, the more confident you became in your theory, the hands-on approach towards the violent killing meaning only one thing:

Michael Myers was a predator. A sexually deprived, anger driven force of nature that sought pleasure within his obsession for violence. The one thing he craved to invoke being the last thing his victims ever feel: terror.

Your mind clicked, and you scribbled the sentence down in your notebook, writing: introduction? before circling the passage. Tucking the notebook under your arm, you quickly slipped out of the suffocating house, desperate for fresh air. Stepping into the night, you peeled the poncho over your head, discarding it in a marked bin on the lawn. Stripping the protective layers from your body, your breaths greedily drank in the fresh air, savoring the scent of pine and freshly mowed grass. Around you, the crime scene continued to bustle with life– flashing lights, murmured voices, the crunch of boots on gravel. Your gaze drifted past the chaos, drawn to the dark treeline sprouted behind the house. Dense shadows swallowed the foliage, faint outlines of pine branches drifting in the chill October breeze. 

A shuffle in the distance caught your attention. You squinted, zeroing in on the movement. Settled in between two bushes, something shifted– a figure, still as stone, blending in against the trees. Your breath caught in your throat, panic gripping you as you gaped forward. Another patrol car rumbled down the street, the headlights cutting across the line of trees as it curved around the bend. For a split second, the light caught something. A flash of white. Your mind flickered back to the bar, to the masked man who stood motionless on the sidewalk. Horror churned in your gut, the realization slamming into you full force. It wasn’t a costume. It was real, it was him. Michael Myers; waiting, watching. 

The sound of gurney wheels squeaked against the gravel, tearing your eyes from the scene. The body bag, black and heavy, was escorted by two officers to the waiting van, enticing you. It was only a second, your gaze shifting before moving back to the treeline, where the figure had been. Your chest tightened as you stared at the bushes, the bushes empty. You scanned the treeline, eyes straining for any movement. He’s gone. Pulse quickening, you glanced down at your notebook, tucked in your grasp. Had you imagined it, the tension from the grizzly scene making you see things? The flash of white, the outline of his silhouette against the treeline— it felt so real. 

Detective Langley reappeared at your side, the sudden presence startling you. The older male chuckled at your jumpy state. “Crime scene jitters?” He mused, gruff voice teasing. You hesitated at the question, debating telling him of your discovery, but the words died on your tongue. “Yeah… I guess so.” You muttered, eyes still trained on the treeline. He patted your shoulder reassuringly, calling over another officer. “Get her back to campus,” He ordered before turning back to you. “When the pictures are developed, I’ll send them your way. If you have any more ideas or theories, give me a call.” Digging into his pocket, he produced a card, his number written on it. You thanked him, taking the small piece of paper and tucking it into your notebook. Another officer led you to the cruiser you arrived in, and you shakily slid into the passenger seat, dumping your notebook into your bag.

The ride back to campus felt like a blur, the events of the past few hours burned into your skull. Exhaustion weighed down on you in a vice-like grip, but sleep never came, leaving you tossing and turning, mind going a million miles a minute. Each time you closed your eyes, the image of terror on the butchered girl’s face stared back at you, sending bile rising in your throat. You stared at the ceiling, imagining the treeline. The rush of lights, the flash of movement. The white of his mask, watching silently. You wondered if you would ever sleep again.

__

You tried to convince yourself that it was just stress, but something felt off. Your body ached from long nights of restless sleep, terrorized by vivid nightmares that jolted you awake, drenched in sweat and goosebumps covering every inch of skin. Images of the crime scene burned into your brain, the hollow eyes staring back at you in the woods. Your room was a chaotic mess, papers, notebooks, maps, photos, and almost illegible handwriting covering every surface. The few days after the crime scene had sent you down a rabbit hole, with you spending every waking moment hunched over your desk, typing away at your computer screen. Each bump in the night, each shadow cast along the wall somehow traced back to him. Your masked killer invaded your life, even outside of your research. Walking back from the library one night, the streetlights cast unnatural shadows against the sidewalk, shifting under your gaze. The quiet was deafening, broken only by the patter of your footsteps in the late hour. But it was always there– the subtle noise of shuffling behind you, always watching. Always waiting. You had whirled around, scanning the darkness, seeing nothing. Yet the feeling was always there, the sensation of being followed coating you like a second skin, creeping into your bones and sending your brain spiraling. You had picked up speed, terror gripping your chest, only relieving slightly when you reached your apartment, locking the door behind you. But as you turned to shut the curtains, your stomach dropped. Under the faint glow of the streetlight in your peripheral vision, a figure stood there, the white mask catching in the light. But as soon as you shifted your gaze to the movement fully, it was gone. 

The days began to blur together as you poured over your work, trying to settle the feeling of constant dread in your stomach. But no matter how fast you typed away at your dissertation, no matter how long you engrossed yourself into your research, the feeling remained. Even Kimberly began to notice the shift in your behavior, cautiously leaving food at the foot of your door, begging you to relax, to take a break. But the dissertation had you in its hold, demanding you continue onwards, pushing you to the brink. As the deadline to your dissertation approached, so did the inexplicable things that began to haunt you.

Your door would slightly be open when you returned from class, ajar and leaving a crack of light into your room when you were certain you had locked it. Your papers would be shifted, unorganized chaos jolted as evidence would be stacked differently than when you had left it. Pieces of information would be underlined or circled, even though you were sure you hadn’t touched them. It was always worse at night, faint creaks and heavy breathing seeming to come from outside your window, even from the second floor. As time passed, though, things began happening that you couldn’t chalk up to paranoia, something real.

You had been stewing in your room, shuffling through papers and editing your final draft of your dissertation when the phone rang. The shrill sound had startled you so badly you almost dropped your coffee mug, the liquid dangerously close to spilling from your mug. Thinking it was Detective Langley asking for progress, you had picked the phone off the receiver quickly, pressing it to your ear. “Hello?” But there was no answer, heavy silence on the other line. You almost ended the call, confused, when you heard it. The breathing, rough and oppressive, was very same that you could practically feel pressing down your back during sleepless nights. “Who… Who is this?” Your voice had trembled, fingers gripping the phone like a lifeline as you strained for an answer. 

The line went dead. You slammed the phone on the receiver so hard the plastic had cracked, blind panic tearing through your chest. Kimberly’s words rang through your head from that fateful night, taunting you. I don’t know how you aren’t terrified of Mr. Boogeyman. But now, you knew. He was like a shape in the dark, a creature of the night feeding off your fear, growing bolder as your paranoia began to take hold. And that was the most terrifying part of all. 

 The murders hadn’t stopped, either. Almost nightly, Detective Langley would summon you at ungodly hours, desperate for your input on another case. The bodies began to pile up, a mountain of evidence continuously being added to your work as your point was all but proven. The scenes became all the more violent, crimes of something you could only describe as passion rattled you to your bones, each victim becoming more mutilated, more disfigured. The last crime scene had finally broken you, vomit spewing from you as you ran from the house, stomach twisting at the decapitated body of another unfortunate babysitter. Haddonfield was put under curfew, children were shuttled home in groups, and parents refused to let their teenage daughter babysit for others. But nothing could stop the carnage. You were spiraling, and fast. Tension began to build within you at your heightened stress, lack of sleep, and the deadline hanging over you like a death sentence. 

The apartment door slammed shut behind Kimberly, rattling against the cheap metal frame so loudly you jumped. Lifting your head from the kitchenette table, you glared, bloodshot eyes worn from pouring over your notes. Kimberly dumped her book bag onto the floor at your feet, smushing a stack of papers that you gingerly grabbed off the floorboards. “Jesus girl, you need to calm down. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Kimberly groaned, shrugging off her jacket before reaching into a cabinet, grabbing a mug and a handle of vodka before making herself a drink. You glanced behind you, staring out the window into the pitch black. “I saw him again,” you bit out, voice tight with nerves. “–He was right there, outside the window. Just standing there.” Kimberly rolled her eyes, a sharp laugh escaping her, although it sounded forced. “Him? You mean Mr. Boogeyman? You have got to be kidding me.” 

She took a gulp of her drink, grimacing at the bitter taste before turning to you. “You’ve been obsessing over him for weeks, certain he’s ‘after you’”, she said, airquoting her words snarkily before adding, “–You’re just paranoid.” You grit your teeth at her words. “I’m not paranoid.” You snapped, practically snarling at her. “I know what I saw. He was there.” Kimberly sighed, worry settling into her frame as she smiled pitifully at you, as if you were insane. It made your blood boil. “Look, I get that you’re super into this whole true crime thing and want a shot at being Miss Detective, but you’re letting it get to you. I mean, really?” She scoffed, throwing up her hands. “You think some infamous killer is stalking you because you want to prove that he’s a pervert? Do you hear how crazy that sounds?”

You swear you see red. “I’m not crazy.” You seethe, stomach churning at the word. Crazy– she thought you were crazy. Kimberly sighed, brushing her hair out of her face before speaking, chewing at the bottom of her lip. “I’m sorry. It’s just– I’m worried about you. If it’s bothering you that much we can call campus security. Do you want some tea or something?” Her voice wobbled, and you rolled your eyes. Security wouldn’t stop him, if anything it would only make him more angry. You ignored her, turning your attention back to your work, going through highlighted passages and making changes. The sound of glass shattering had your gaze shooting to Kimberly, whose mug was in pieces on the tile. “Damn it!” She cursed, dropping to her knees. You stood, rushing over to the paper towels before kneeling across from her. You padded at the liquid silently, tension thick between the two of you as you cleaned her mess. Kimberly slowly picked up the pieces of the mug, and you finally noticed her shaking hands. 

__

The ear-splitting sound of your alarm clock jolted you from an uneasy night’s sleep. Groaning, you tore yourself away from the bundle of sheets, blindly slapping your hand down on the clock, silencing the noise. You yawned, rubbing your tired eyes as you stared at the clock. The glowing red numbers read 6:00AM. Your breathing hitched, nerves crackling in the air of your bedroom. Today was dissertation day. You sat frozen in your bed, anxiety weighing you down against the sheets. Months of research, sleepless nights, crime scene tours, and the questioning of your sanity have led to this moment. You couldn’t tell if you were relieved or terrified, but you were too tired to care. Swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, you stretched, trying to shake the exhaustion that clung to your skin. Things will finally settle down after today. They had to. 

Creaking open your door slowly, you peeked into the kitchen. The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted to your nostrils as you stepped into the shared space, however Kimberly’s usually boisterous presence was absent. You glanced at the counter, an array of empty bottles of liquor staring back at you, and you sighed. You hesitated outside her closed bedroom door, deciding against waking her to apologize for your behavior. It looked like she had a long night. Opting to not start another fight, you grabbed a mug, pouring the liquid gold that you considered to be your lifeline into the cup, warmth seeping into your hands. You sank into a chair, pulling out your prepared stack of notecards, flipping through them absentmindedly as you drank. 

After what felt like the longest hot shower of your life, you steeled yourself to your fate and began preparing for the day. The dissertation defense was scheduled at 11:00, and by 10:00 you were dressed in business professional– pressed shirt chafing against the material of your blazer. Fiddling with the tailored sleeve, you checked your appearance in the mirror for what seemed like the hundredth time, smoothing out your slacks nervously. The overall look screamed professionalism and sophistication, though you spent at least 15 minutes deciding between heels or loafers. Sighing, you chose the heels, slipping them onto your feet for the extra mile. Running a hand through your hair, you grabbed your notecards, speech recorder, and a printed copy of your dissertation, taking one last look in the mirror. “You can do this.” You breathed out, forcing a confident smile.

The walk to the campus building was brisk, heightened by the bundle of nerves churning in your stomach. Shivering against the October breeze, you pulled your blazer closer to your body, braving onwards. Passing students chatted happily, their carefree nature buzzing in the air as you brushed past, running possible scenarios through your head. Muttering to yourself, you tried to pinpoint your key phrases as you walked, the telltale brick of the graduate student conservatory cresting the horizon. Pushing through the heavy wooden door, the smell of old books and cigarette smoke filled your nostrils, and you took a deep breath inwards. Approaching the small conference room, you tried to shake the nervous tremble in your voice, professionalism quickly overtaking your form.

Glancing into the conference room, a board of five suit clad figures discussed your work, each having meticulously read your dissertation in the previous days. Doctor Strigler, the head of the Sociology and Human Behavior department, relaxed in his swivel chair, waving you inside. Swallowing thickly, you entered the room, settling behind the oak podium and flipping through your notecards. “Good morning, miss (l/n). Take a moment to prepare yourself, and then we can begin. After a standard presentation of your findings, you will be cross examined, followed by a final Q+A, and then you are free to wait outside until the decision is made.” Doctor Strigler smiled fondly, adjusting his spectacles. You nodded, palms sweaty as you pulled out your printed dissertation. Clearing your throat, you settled, pushing your nerves away before starting. “Good morning gentlemen, it is my honor to present my findings on what we consider to be one of the most prolific, yet mysterious serial killers in our great state of Illinois–” Your voice trembled ever so slightly. “–Michael Myers.”

For the next two hours, the room was a blur of academic rigor and prowess. You presented your findings on the masked killer with practiced confidence, taking the committee through multiple recorded pieces of evidence, showing crime scene photos, and more. Occasionally, questions interrupted your presentation, some easy while others required you to contemplate before responding. During the cross examination period, you defended your points passionately, citing your mile-long list of sources and evidence. As you talked, the nerves melted away, replaced with a calculated sense of confidence that highlighted your almost obsessive nature towards your theory. After what felt like centuries, the committee called time, thanking you for your presentation and excusing themselves to deliberate. You paced the hallway, wracking your brain for any mistakes you may have made in the heat of the moment, wringing your hands nervously. 

The door to the conference room swung open, Doctor Strigler stepping into the hallway to wave you down. You halted your movements, almost skidding across the floor. This was it– the moment that decided your fate. You swear your heart was going to beat out of your chest, and you had the sudden urge to retch. The anticipation hung over you like a death sentence, and you steeled yourself, squaring your shoulders before approaching the older male. Smiling warmly, he extended his hand towards you. “Congratulations, Doctor (l/n).” Tears instantly welled in your eyes, your body feeling a thousand times lighter, the unforeseen weight lifted from your shoulders. Your cheeks hurt from how wide you were smiling, and you quickly grabbed the Doctor’s hand, shaking it enthusiastically.

Stammering out your appreciation, you rushed back into the conference room, thanking each of the committee members and picking up your extensive collection of files scattered along the desk. Practically sprinting out of the room, you fought the urge to skip out of the building, arms full of paperwork, feedback, and your research materials. The walk home felt surreal– the sun shining brighter, the birds chirping joyfully, and the breeze carrying a newfound lightness with it. You thought of all the ways you would celebrate with Kimberly after a sincere apology, bracing yourself to the possibility of spending the night at Fowl Play again. The thought alone made you smile, your pace increasing as you hurried home to break the good news.

By the time you reached your apartment, you were giddy with excitement, the afternoon beginning to fade into the evening with the October chill setting in. Practically bouncing up the stairs in the apartment building, you rushed into your bedroom, dumping the stack of papers onto your desk. Kicking your heels off, you shrugged off your blazer, hanging it in the closet before heading back into the kitchen. “Kim-bear, I’m home! Come on out, there’s something I’m dying to tell you!” You half expected Kimberly to pounce on you at your words, squealing and shaking you like a ragdoll. Instead, silence was your only response, lingering heavily in the air. 

Opening the overhead cupboards, you grabbed two wine flutes, the reality of your accomplishment sinking in. “I did it…” You whispered, setting them down carefully on the counter before turning to the fridge. The bottle of white wine glared back at you, unopened– you and Kimberly using it as a milestone market, not opening the bottle until one of you passed your respective dissertations. Digging through the cupboards for the wine opener, you called over your shoulder.  “Kimberly, you’ve been in there all day.” The telltale pop of the cork echoed around the kitchen, but still, there was no response from your roommate. Your frown deepened as you poured the sauvignon blanc into the glasses. “Look, I know I’ve been an ass recently,” you admitted, tone softening as you glanced at her closed door. “–But I did it, so we’re celebrating whether you like it or not!” 

Nothing. Setting down the bottle with a hollow thunk, you grabbed the glasses, padding over to her room. Although closed, the crack under the door flooded with light, signaling she was home. Irritation prickled at your skin, but the longer you waited, the more it was outweighed by unease. “Kim-bear?” You called again, knocking against the door, wine sloshing in the glass. You pressed your ear against the wood, straining for any noise. No footsteps, no sound of her hushed voice, even the telltale noise of music playing non-stop on her vinyl player was absent. Just silence. Your palms grew clammy, glasses balanced in one hand as your fingers hesitantly brushed against the cool metal of the doorknob. “Kimberly.” You urged, panic beginning to set in, voice barely above a whisper. You gritted your teeth, worried you’ll run into a very hungover roommate who was not in the mood to chat. “I’m coming in…” You warned, twisting the doorknob and pushing into the room.

The sight inside stopped you mid stride. The bedroom was a mess– mirror smashed against the carpet, shards of glass covering almost every inch of the floor. Papers, photos, and cassette tapes were strewn across the room, desk chair overturned, legs shattered into splinters. And there, draped against her bed, was Kimberly. At least, what was left of her. Blood stained feathers coated her skin, pillows torn to shreds at her side. Shirt cut clean open, a nasty gash sliced through her midriff, ribs protruding from the open cavity of her chest. Her organs were on full display, liver ruptured and pressing against the gnarled entrails of her intestines. There was so much blood– pooling from the open carcass, staining the sheets in a deep scarlet, covering every surface within its reach. And the smell, the metallic scent of blood mixing with her open cavity in a way that made your stomach flip.

The wine glasses slipped from your fingers, shattering against the floorboards. Your stomach lurched at the gruesome sight, throat choking on a scream that refused to come. You dry heaved, bile rising to your throat as you suffocated on air, blind panic tearing through your skin. The world tilted around you, spinning as your knees wobbled, the sight of her glassy eyes staring straight into your soul. A gargled sob finally tore through your throat, and you slapped a hand over your mouth to stifle your cries, the horror of the scene sinking into you. Blood dripped from the edge of her bed, winding down her limp leg before dripping onto the wooden floorboards in sickening plops. Your breathing hitched, suffocating you under the weight of realization. Her wounds were fresh– gaping, raw, and impossibly brutal. Her last breaths were probably moments before you walked in the door, a flash of horror sending white hot fear stabbing through your chest. You had just missed the act, meaning her killer was still here. 

A faint clatter came from behind you, the sound subtle– like the scrape of metal against wood. Your heart seized within your chest, the hairs on the back of your neck standing straight up. The all too familiar feeling of being watched settled over you like a wet blanket, heavy and suffocating. You turned slowly, worried about any sudden movement resulting in your certain demise. Your gaze landed on the bathroom across the apartment, the doorway an ominous void of inky black. Your brain screamed at you to look away, to run, but you were frozen in place, legs bolted to the floor. The darkness seemed to shift, alive and writhing, a figure emerging from what you could only describe as hell.

First, the pale mask appeared– eerily blank, followed by the navy of the mechanic suit, fabric soaked with so much blood it looked black. His broad shoulders shook with the same ragged breaths that kept you awake so many nights before. He tilted his head just slightly, examining you. The light caught the knife clenched in his fist– your roommate’s blood still dripping from the blade, and your knees wobbled. You leaned against the doorway, bare foot crunching on shards of broken glass, needles of pain slicing up your leg. But you couldn’t move– no matter how much you screamed at your legs to run, your body betrayed you as it remained rooted to the floor. The only thing you could do was stare– gaping at the legend you had spent the better part of a year dissecting, eyes tracing the inhumane shape of a man who had spent a lifetime dismantling lives. Michael Myers had finally come for you, the devil paying his due. 

Your brain wracked with silent begs of mercy, but all that escaped your lips were broken sobs. You knew nothing could save you now, any pleads of salvation useless against him. And as much as the terror short circuited your brain, you couldn’t deny the curiosity pooling within your stomach. The specimen you had been obsessively studying for what felt like a century stood just feet away, the probability of your theory practically proving itself as an image of Kimberly’s disfigured corpse flashed through your mind. He took another harrowing step forward, and the inquisitiveness bolting you in place shattered, replaced by the primal urge to escape. Legs faltering, you propelled yourself forward, sprinting towards the door leading into the hallway. Pain shot up your legs as the glass embedded deeper within the flesh of your feet, but you refused to stop. Practically launching around the kitchen counter, you stumbled over your discarded heels, almost crashing into the wall. Breaths coming out in frantic puffs, your hand stretched towards the door, your only saving grace. Your voice finally returned, a scream so raw with emotion it rattled your ears. “HEL-”

A hand too large to be human clamped down around your mouth, yanking you backwards by your jaw. Immediately, you dead weighted– pressing downwards as you clawed forwards, fingers desperately trying to reach for the door. Wailing screams pressed against the meaty palm, the noises almost completely silenced as you tried to wrench yourself from his grasp. Flailing your limbs, you struggled like your life depended on it, clamping your jaw down so hard into the palm of his hand that you drew blood. Michael huffed, pulling you backwards with such force you lost your footing, bloodied soles of your feet slipping against the wood. Your back hit the hard expanse of his chest, blood– Kimberly’s blood– instantly soaking through your thin blouse and pressing into your skin. The blade of the knife was pushed against your throat, and you grimaced at the cool metal biting into your skin, the sharp edge slightly drawing blood. 

The mantra you confidently spouted all those weeks ago echoed in your head, chiding: He likes the chase, but when his victims defy him, he reacts poorly, losing control. You stilled at that, heart in your throat– life in the hands of your own personal boogeyman. Those horrid breaths wafted from his mask, fanning over the top of your head, ruffling your hair. He smelled like death– rather, he was death, dragging you into the depths of hell. Your research told you he liked fear, practically basking in it– but was it more than that? Was the gratification in the initial scare itself, or the control he asserted over his victims? You squeezed your eyes shut, cursing your brain– constantly analyzing, dissecting. Your heels dug into the floorboards as he stepped backwards, head craning into his chest to try and alleviate the sting of the blade against your neck. He maneuvered you with ease, pulling you towards your bedroom. 

A small part of you flushed, stomach dropping– your room. Your research papers were still scattered across the desk, the walls coated in notes– like an obsessive stalker, about to be unveiled by the subject of your research. Every detail of his history, every violent act, every conspiracy documented with extensive detail. You mentally cringed in his hold, wanting nothing more than to curl into yourself from the embarrassment, the irony of it all. Michael kicked your door, the wood splintering beneath his boots as he pulled you into the room. The pressure of the knife against your neck alleviated, the deadly weapon clattering against your desk, splattering droplets of blood across your printed dissertation. Hand still holding your mouth under his bruising grip, he pushed you into the desk.

Sparks flew across your vision– the world spinning as your skull cracked against the wood, disorientation rattling your brain. Your right temple felt like it was burning, a warm gush of blood dripping down your eyebrow, filling your eye with stinging pain. You moaned weakly, blinking as your dazed vision began to clear once more. Vision settling, a crude sketch of the mask in the bushes that fateful night stared back at you, taunting you. You wanted to die– not from his knife, but from the mortifying realization that your work was on full display. Your hands were forced behind you, tearing you from the self-deprecating spiral, a hand pressing them against your back, holding you flat against the desk. Your hip bones dug into the edge painfully, breasts uncomfortably squashed beneath your weight as you wriggled against the hard surface. 

You protested immediately, desperate noises sounding too lewd for comfort pressing against his palm. His hand released your jaw, teeth audibly clattering together as you begged, “Please, don’t look–” frantically before something was shoved into your mouth. You choked slightly, the taste of worn clothing coating your tongue. He gagged you– you realized, aching jaw throbbing. The research you had worked tirelessly on shifted beneath you, and your eyes shot upwards to the collection of polaroids, crime scene photos, and police sketches of the very man holding you down. Your room looked like an obsessive shrine, theories connected with red twine pinned along the entire expanse of drywall. You swallowed thickly, humiliation churning in your gut like a child caught stealing from the cookie jar. You weren’t his typical MO, but your research must have hitten a nerve from the masked killer. He was going to kill you– you had delved too far within the rabbit hole, and now you would pay for it with your life. You squeezed your eyes shut, heart hammering within your chest as an eerie sense of acceptance washed over you. 

You half expected him to rip your heart from your chest, feasting on your flesh before he fled the scene, but you knew he would use that god forsaken knife. You knew him too well, the months of research proving just exactly how he would kill you– slowly, intimately. The smallest voice inside of you revelled in the fact that you were right, aware all along just how deep he had fallen from grace. You braced yourself, expecting the blade to tear through you– instead, a torn paper was slammed down onto the table next to your head. You jolted from the sudden movement, quickly reading the crumpled paper. Your eyes widened, breath faltering as you writhed against his grip, twisting your wrists so vigorously that you were certain your skin was rubbing raw. The scribbled line you had written for your final introduction glared back at you, a cruel reversal of your own research being used against you: Michael Myers was a predator.

You weren’t just terrified– you were transfixed, the idea of him actually reading through your notes… was it a sign of acknowledgement? The hand that wasn’t pinning you to the desk brushed your hip, and your breathing hitched, silencing your analyzing thoughts. Cheek scraping along the wood of the desk, you met your captor’s gaze– peering into the void. Fingers curled around the waistband of your slacks as he stared back at you, challenging you. The blood drained from your face as your slacks were tugged roughly down, catching at your knees. Goosebumps erupted along the exposed flesh, bare ass hanging off the edge of the desk– a harrowing realization tearing through you. You weren’t just an unlucky researcher who got too close to the sun, you were prey– and the boogeyman finally came to collect. The rough pads of his fingers dug into the flesh of your thigh, kneading the skin so curtly your stomach somersaulted.

You should want to scream– to run, to pound your fists into his chest and claw at his skin– but all you could do was watch his exploratory movements. He was studying you, just as you had done towards him for the better part of a year, curiosity stilling you against his touch. This was so wrong– you were supposed to be dead by now, blood pouring from your skin as life drained from your eyes– not sprawled half naked over your own research. Your thighs clenched as the scratchy material of the jumpsuit brushed against your skin, hips meeting his. Gaping at that devilish mask, you refused to avert your eyes– even as your panties were ripped away from your body you stood firm, entranced. Was he experimenting with you before ending your life, or was he finally, finally cracking under the pressure from the lack of intimacy? The beast of a man behind you jerked forward slightly, hips grinding against the fat of your ass– but you were too focused on your inner ramblings to care. 

A ragged huff escaped the male hovering over you, breath fanning your back as realization slammed into you. He wasn’t doing this for him– he was doing this for you, giving you the concrete evidence you were missing in your theory. The thought made your head spin, warmth pooling in your stomach– Michael had read your research, combed over the countless theories with meticulous detail, and now he knew the perfect way to make you pay for your pitiful investigation. The knife haphazardly draped against the dissertation was lifted, and a pang of fear stabbed into your chest. Was this it? Were you going to be found half naked and covered in bloody handprints over your own research? You tried to track the weapon with your eyes, but Michael quickly ducked out of view behind you– leaving you in the dark. 

A cool sensation fluttered over your left asscheek as a finger brushed over the skin, wet and slimy. You cringed at the feeling, trying to arch away from the mysterious liquid as it— your eyes widened— dripped down to your lower thigh. The finger trailed lower, through the crevice of your ass and coating your inner folds, smearing your skin with the liquid. The telltale scent of iron invaded your nostrils as the thick fluid clung to your skin, sticking to your folds. Your stomach fluttered in betrayal at the action, the finger lazily dipping into your folds to smear more– your stomach tightened– blood onto your pussy. He was using your best friend’s blood to prepare you, to ruin you. The thought made your lip quiver, your own juices mixing into a concoction of dizzying sin and lust. The air was thick with tension, a sense of anticipation and shame quickly washing over you. The object of your obsessions was teasing you, somewhere inside making the darker parts of your mind swoon. 

Michael’s finger pushed inside of you, testing the waters. You shivered at the feeling, clamping your jaw shut so as to not expose your thoughts. The finger curled within you, and with it, your stomach flipped. Michael grunted, seemingly pleased with the warmth coming from your folds, and quickly withdrew his finger. The rustling of fabric tore you from the daze, and you strained your head above the desk– barely able to make out the monster of a man unbuttoning his mechanics suit in your peripheral. Your breath hitched. This couldn’t be happening– it was all just a fucked up dream you were having, the obsessive nature of the killer finally manifesting itself in the darkest of ways. Yet the warm press of bare hips against the fat of your ass was very much real, the outline of his cock nestled dangerously close to your blood tinted folds. You screwed your eyes shut, fuck you were not prepped enough for this– mentally or physically you couldnt decipher. A deep huff sounded out behind you, Michael’s patience wearing thin, and his cockhead caught against your folds as he pushed forwards– coating himself in your juices. 

You whimpered as his free hand gripped your hip, blunt nails digging into your flesh while he steeled himself, inexperience radiating off of him as he finally aligned himself to your core. You tried to relax, a shuddered breath escaping you at the prospect that this was going to hurt, and badly. Your captive hands curled into fists, digging into your palms as your bit into your inner cheek for comfort. And without so much as a warning, Michael sunk inside of you. A choked gasp spilled from your lips at the stretch, feeling as if you were being torn in two by the almost inhumane size. Tears welled in your eyes, teeth gritting against each other as Michael stuttered forward— inch by inch. Helplessly, you clenched around him, body screaming for relief, but your silent pleas went unanswered. Cockhead dragging against your gummy walls, his tip dug mercilessly into your cervix, causing a flash of white-hot pain to erupt within you. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, drawing blood, and you sucked on the metallic taste for comfort. God, you felt like you were dying– stabbing pain encompassing your lower half as you tried to arch away from the onslaught. 

Michael shuddered, hips stilling once he was fully submerged in your warmth. Tears streamed down your cheeks onto the wooden desk as relief washed over you, the burn of it all settling in the pit of your stomach. You were so full, stuffed to the brim to the point where the pressure was unbearable. Any solace of comfort was ripped away as he moved, pulling out quickly before slamming his back into you. Black spots shot across your vision– a broken moan tearing from your throat as your cheek dug into the wood. The hand gripping your wrists tightened, your fingers tingling from the lack of blood flow as Michael settled into a deep, grueling pace. It was too much– too rough, the force of his thrusts causing the wood of the desk to clatter against the wall. Papers crumpled beneath your weight as you were forcibly rocked to the movement, wood splintering into your cheek as you chafed against it. Your body barred down, staccato pants spilling from your mouth as you laid there and took him. If this had been anyone else, you would have been embarrassed at the way you could barely breathe, but with every sharp thrust you fell further from sanity.

He was ruining you, seemingly pushing so far you could feel it in your throat. Michael bottomed out suddenly, and you swore you saw stars, body spasming as he kissed your cervix. Any shame that you had been gripping onto seemed to vanish into thin air with every thrust, your hips pressing so hard against the wood you were sure there would be bruises. Fuck it felt like you were being dragged into hell itself, the devil reincarnated destroying you for all others. Sweat clung to your hairline, the room burning as Michael fucked into you like a man gone mad. Involuntary grunts, gasps, and moans bounced off the room, raw with emotion– and you finally realized they were coming from you. It was so wrong, so lewd to be tainted by the very person you had obsessed over, but it felt too good for you to care. The underside of his cock brushed against that oh so sensitive spot so sinfully your toes curled.

You were consumed with it– taboo and all, stomach tightening as Michael’s hips rocked into you. Brows furrowing, you abandoned any semblance of control or consciousness, chasing the high that sprouted in your stomach. You felt like you were going to break, stomach fluttering at the sting of his sheer size. You were practically milking him, clenching down so hard you swore you could have heard him hiss from behind you. The hand that was gripping onto your hip like a lifeline tangled within your hair, yanking you upwards. You gasped, pain needling your scalp as you arched to meet his demands. Refusing to let up, Michael continued his mericeless pace, using your hair as an anchor against his thrusts. The cool material of his mask brushed against your shoulder, causing another gargled moan to seep from you at the action. You were a mess– button down clinging to your sweaty skin as you subconsciously angled your hips to accommodate the shift in position. 

The outline of his cock was much more evident now, scraping against your walls so brutally your heart caught within your throat. Your body tensed, praying– begging to find release. Practically teetering on the edge, you wrenched your head from his grasp, turning to meet his gaze. You just wanted to see him, the monster you had spent countless nights studying. The hazy light of the bedroom caught his mask; the devil staring back at you. A sea of blue met yours, pupils so dilated they looked black. Those eyes– not the animalistic thrusts, not the churning of your insides– but those eyes threw you over the edge. A guttural scream tore from your throat, body spasming as you came around his cock. Michael’s hips stuttered against your at the sudden shift, a deep groan invading your senses as you fell from grace. Your eyes rolled to the back, head hanging weakly as you gasped for air. Electricity jolted through you like a live wire, and you shuddered, fluttering around him. Michael huffed, composure quickly falling away as you clung to him like a lifeline, his own orgasm fast approaching. 

He shoved you forwards once more, pressing you so hard into the desk you felt as if you were going to melt into the woods. He pushed forward– once, twice before finally, finally he finished. Hot, thick ropes of cum coated your insides, and you subconsciously fluttered at the feeling. Michael stilled, hips flush against the fat of your ass, cock throbbing as you both struggled to come down from the high. You sank into the wood, exhaustion weighing you down, head still spinning from your orgasm. Michael slowly withdrew from your sputtering form, the void quickly overtaking you as he tucked himself back into his jumpsuit. The ache of his cock quickly overtook you, and you winced, fear beginning to settle into your stomach. Michael had gotten what he had wanted– now what? You squirmed against the hand still pinning you to the desk, babbling utter nonsense in the hopes it would spare your life. The knife that rested just inches from your face was lifted, and your eyes screwed shut, waiting for the final blow. 

But it never came. The hold on your wrists eased up, and you quickly fell backwards, knees weak and legs trembling. You quickly whipped your head around, trying to shield yourself from any attacks, but you were met with nothing. Your room was empty, door wide open as your personal boogeyman seemed to flee into the night. The knife was nowhere in sight, seemingly vanishing into the air. Your frantic gaze scanned your room for anything out of place, any secret hiding places he could have gone to, but everything was the same as you had left it this morning. Your knees gave out at that, and you crumpled onto the shaggy carpet. Tears of relief, fear, shame– and something else you couldn’t quite place dripped down your face. You were alive, somehow spared. The events of the day quickly came crashing down: your dissertation, Michael, and– your eyes flicked to the open door once more– Kimberly. You pushed yourself upwards once more, knuckles gripping the desk as you rose to your feet. Wobbling slightly, a blank patch on your desk caught your attention, stopping you in your tracks. 

Your printed dissertation– it was gone. Your breathing hitched, stomach knotting at the sight. Somehow, you already knew where it had disappeared to. Lip quivering, you stumbled into the kitchen, mind still reeling. The sensation of him lingered, thick and heavy, the evidence of what he had done to you– with you still dripping down your thighs. You cringed at the feeling. Kimberly’s door remained open, and you sucked a breath through your teeth, refusing to look. Hands fumbling for the receiver, you quickly punched in Detective Langley’s number, gripping the kitchen counter so hard your knuckles turned white. The line rang, and you shifted your gaze to the window. The sun had nearly vanished beneath the horizon, painting the sky in a crimson hue that made your skin prickle. It was the same red that was smeared on your skin, the same red that pooled beneath Kimberly’s lifeless body– the color of blood. 

The dial tone droned in your ear, and for a moment, everything blurred, the phone shaking in your hand as the horrifying truth gnawed at your stomach. You had spent months dissecting the mind of a killer, and he had finally come for you. And yet, you were alive– untouched yet violated, unscathed yet completely undone. The phone continued to ring, and a thought flickered in your mind, wrapping around your heart like a vice. You had never been the observer, you had always been the subject. 

And worst of all– he knew it too.

[greenandsorrow]

Hiya I was wondering if you could do a prompt where fem reader is in [as in actress] in all the slashers movies even if it's as a background character? How they would react to her?Have a nice day no worries if you don't get to it!

Author's note: Greetings, slasher community! This is my first work featuring our delicious psychos! Unless you count my platonic Pennywise multi chap (I know he's not technically a slasher, but still). Hopefully, I've covered most of them ♥️

Disclaimer (ig): I left Art the Clown out because, oddly enough, I haven't watched Terrifier yet -but trust me, once I do, I'm sure it'll turn into an unhealthy obsession. Accept my apologies for now.

Rating: Aside from the obv gory nature of the whole thing, it's mostly sfw, with only minor suggestive innuendos. Don't try these relationship dynamics irl.

Featuring: Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Freddy Krueger, Ghostface (in the vague sense), Leatherface, The Grabber, Pennywise (1990), Pennywise (2017), William Afton because he's an undead serial killer and because I can (book, game, movie, not Springtrap this time), +BONUS CHARACTER

~the slashers x fem!actress!reader

Michael Myers 🏠🎃

The living room is silent except for the audio of Scream playing on the TV. You're lounging on the couch, mindlessly watching -until Michael, standing by the wall like a shadow, suddenly pauses the screen.

You blink. "Uh… what?"

Michael remains completely still as he observes the paused frame. A frame of you mid-sprint in the background of the classic horror movie, being chased by Ghostface. Anyone else would argue about whether that's really you, but Michael already knows. He's seen you move like this before. Maybe he's even chased you this way.

Without a word, he switches discs. He presses forward on the console.

And there you are -blurry in the background of a trick-or-treating scene in some other horror media, dressed as a generic babysitter, chatting with another actress. It's barely a second of screen time.

Michael turns his masked face toward you, his posture unreadable.

You shrug. "I needed money. It was just background gigs."

He keeps staring.

Stalker mode: activated.

Jason Voorhees ⛺🪓

You're leaning against his shoulder, a throw blanket draped over both of you.

Jason tilts his head, then turns to you, then back at the screen, then to you again.

If he could speak, he'd be asking "When was this?"

If he cared about emotions, he'd be offended.

You've been in so many slasher movies and never once did you mention it... Are you okay? Have you been running from psychos your whole life? He's almost worried about you.

Expect some extra protective hovering and a machete presented as a gift of comfort.

Freddy Krueger 🔥🌙

"Oh-ho-ho! Look at you, Hollywood! Running for your life again! What's your IMBD looking like, sweetheart? Professional Screamer?"

Freddy cackles, pausing and rewinding just to enjoy your panicked face.

"Damn, you're good. Ever considered coming to MY movies?" He waggles his claws at you. "Bet I could give you some real nightmare material." He's joking. Mostly. But you might want to lock your bedroom door tonight.

Just in case.

Ghostface (in general) 📞🔪

The moment your familiar figure flashes across the screen, Ghostface pauses the movie so fast the remote nearly cracks in his grip.

"Well, well, well… what do we have here?" His voice drips with amusement, though there's a sharp edge of something else... Interest? Possessiveness? A touch of jealousy? Hard to say.

He leans forward, taking in every detail. "You didn't tell me you were in Scream, getting killed by other Ghostfaces -or Halloween, or Friday the 13th, or literally every horror movie ever made.... Even in Child's Play?!"

He clicks his tongue, pretending to be offended. "And here I thought we had something special."

His gloved fingers tap against your thigh as he considers. "So, do you always run from killers, or are you just playing hard to get?"

A chuckle follows, dark and playful. "You know, I could give you a much more… hands-on experience than any of these amateurs."

He lets the movie roll again, but now he's watching you, not the film. "Final girl, background character, victim... Doesn't matter. You'll always be my favorite scream queen."

Leatherface 🪚🌾

Leatherface watches in silence. A chainsaw in his lap, forgotten.

He doesn't understand movies too well, but he does understand that's you being chased by someone who isn't him.

Excuse me?

You let someone else do the chasing? And you never told him?

Next thing you know, he's pacing, huffing under his breath. Expect extra possessiveness and a LOT of lingering looks.

Also, if that actor playing Ghostface suddenly goes missing… you know nothing.

The Grabber (Albert Shaw) 🎩🎭

The room is dimly lit, the glow of the TV flickering against the walls as A Nightmare on Elm Street plays. He turns to you, eyes glinting behind the sockets of his signature mask. A low chuckle rumbles from his throat. "Look at that."

His voice is smooth, almost teasing. "You're so good at being scared."

He fixates on the screen, watching the way your body moves, the way you fight to survive. Something about it simply delights him.

"You know, you'd look even better in my basement" he muses, his tone almost affectionate. "No cameras. No audience. Just you and me."

His gloved fingers tap against the armrest. "I wonder if you'd last as long as they let you in the movies…"

Then, suddenly, he laughs -light, breathy, as if the thought genuinely amuses him. "Maybe, you'd last even longer... If I want you to."

Pennywise (1990) 🎈🍿

Bob Gray is having the time of his life watching you in all these horror movies. He's laughing, cackling, absolutely thriving.

"Y'know, I could've given you real horrors to perform, kiddo!" His grin stretches wide. "And that running? Pfft! Amateur work! You should see how kids run from me!"

"Oh-ho! There you are again, kiddo! Look at you run! And run! And run some more! Boy, you really know how to make a monster work for it!"

But then, he sees him. His replacement. His knock-off.

The smile fades. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, squinting at the screen like a father seeing his daughter bring home the wrong guy.

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Look at this guy. Thinks he's scary." He flicks a dismissive palm at the screen. "Ooooh, I'm tall! Ooooh, I drool all over myself! Ooooh, I wear frilly clown pants like I just crawled out of a Victorian nightmare!"

He turns to you, voice dripping with sarcasm. "You fought this guy?"

A wheezing laugh escapes him. "Honey, you downgraded! Big time!"

"He tastes fear? Kiddo, I invented that shit. He's just doing a cheap impression of yours truly. And let's not even talk about that goofy-ass head-tilt he does."

He jerks his head side to side in an exaggerated impression. "What's the matter, buddy? Need a chiropractor?"

With a smirk, he throws an arm around you, pulling you close like some sleazy salesman. "Listen, sweetheart, if you really wanna be haunted by a clown, why not go with the original? Hmm?"

His sharp teeth flash you a smile. "I'm funnier. I'm nastier. And I won't just stand there like some awkward mime in oversized shoes."

Pennywise (2017) 🎪🩸

Pennywise watches, slowly tilting his head. Then tilting it more. And more.

"You run so well" he purrs, voice thick with amusement. "You know… I could chase you better."

He grins, showing sharp teeth. "Would you like to practice?"

Is he joking? Is he serious? It doesn't matter.

The moment he spots you in IT -in a grainy, VHS quality shot of Derry- his entire body stiffens. Then, his gloved fingers start twitching against his knees. His lips part in something between a sneer and a pout.

"You… you were in his movie?" His voice drops into a guttural growl. His yellow eyes flick between you and the screen, utterly insulted. "That knockoff? That circus reject?"

For a moment, he says nothing. Just stares.

Then, suddenly, he bursts into shrill, mocking laughter. "Ahaha! Oh, I get it! You were doing charity work!"

He claps his hands together, the sound unnervingly.

"Helping the less fortunate! That's just so sweet of you!"

He stops laughing a little too abruptly. He looms closer now, voice dipping into something almost sultry, eyes gleaming in the flickering light.

"Tell me, little star…" His grin is wide, impossibly sharp.

"Did he taste you, too?" His head jerks to the side with a sickening crack. "Or were you saving yourself for someone better?"

Before you can answer, his arms snap around you, yanking you into his lap. His breath, hot and damp, ghosts over your throat.

"You're mine now" he coos, teeth just barely grazing your skin.

"My movie. My horror. My little leading lady." His grip tightens possessively.

William Afton (Book Version) 🐰🔦

Book Afton doesn't just watch the screen.

He studies it.

Cold, calculating eyes track every movement you make, every scream, every desperate attempt to escape. The slight twitch of his lips is the only sign of amusement -well, that and the way his fingers tighten around his armrest just a little too hard.

"All those killers" he murmurs, voice as smooth as velvet. "And yet, you always slip through their fingers. Fascinating."

His smile is thin, mirthless. "I wonder… is it luck that keeps you alive, dear girl?"

His fingers reach out, slow, deliberate, tracing a ghost of a touch on your wrist.

"Or instinct?"

His eyes glint dangerously. "I'd like to find out."

And then, he moves.

One second, he's across the couch. The next? You're caged against the armrest, his breath chilling your skin.

"You scream so pretty for them." His voice dips lower, like he's enjoying the chase. "Let's see how pretty you scream for me."

William Afton (Game Version) 👾📺

"We do love a good game of chase in this establishment." He smirks tiredly, tapping his fingers against the desk. "Perhaps you'd like a private audition?"

That's a yes whether you like it or not.

"Hah" he exhales, voice deep, rich and unmistakably British. "Now, that's just precious."

His pale eyes dilate as he watches you on his computer screen, just another background character in a slasher film. "You're terrified, aren't you?" His smirk grows. "And yet, you survived. Brave, little thing."

He clicks his tongue, straightening.

"You know…" he begins, casual, like talking about the weather. "Slashers today are so messy. Bloody, predictable, boring…"

His fingers flex, like he's imagining them wrapped around something. "But me? I was crafted for this. A mind sharper than any knife, a body that refuses to die…"

His smirk sharpens, dark amusement flickering in his irises. "And of course... I don't just chase, darling. I build my nightmares."

He watches your reaction, drinking it in. "Animatronics, trap rooms, hidden passageways… There's no running when the entire building is designed to keep you in."

A low chuckle escapes him. "Now… wouldn't that be fun?

"Oh? No, no, darling! I'm not going to hurt you... I thought you'd be impressed by... this. By my brilliance. Can we at least have a drink later?"

William Afton (Movie Version) 🍕🗃️

Afton watches in eerie silence.

"Hmm."

His expression is unreadable, but you can feel the gears turning in his head. "You have a habit of escaping things, don't you?"

A pause. Then, a half smirk.

"How interesting." He doesn't say more, but from that day on, you swear he watches you just a little too closely. Maybe you shouldn't have let him see that.

"Ohh, now we're talking!" William practically purrs, leaning back on the couch with an easy grin.

"Look at you! Little horror darling. Final girl energy, but still gets caught. Mmm, chef's kiss."

He actually makes the gesture, grinning at the screen like a director admiring his finest work.

Then, his expression shifts. Turns sharper. Hungrier

"But you know, sweetheart… these guys? Hack jobs." He gestures lazily at the killers on-screen.

"Me? I play for keeps."

His fingers trail down your arm, slow, teasing. "Never made you wonder if the monster really wanted to hurt you… or just wanted to keep you?"

He laughs, the sound warm, playful -dangerous.

bonus~

Slender Man 🌲🚫

The static hums through the speakers before the screen distorts. The lights flicker. Something in the air shifts... and you know before even turning your head -he's watching.

Slender Man stands in the shadows, unmoving, unreadable. He has no eyes, no expression, no face -and yet, the pressure of his gaze coils around you like an unseen force. A protecting one, to your relief.

You appear on the screen, a fleeting glimpse -a background figure, passing through some darkened corridor in a forgotten horror film. His head tilts, impossibly slow, almost… curious.

A long limb raises, fingers tapering into nothingness. He reaches -not toward the screen, but toward you.

The images on the television distort again. The signal is lost, replaced by static.

A silent message. A warning.

Or an invitation.

Then, the shadows stretch. The dark pools at the edges of the room, deepening, swallowing the corners. The walls feel further away than they should be.

A whisper brushes the nape of your neck, though no words are spoken.

Help me make my hardworking mom's birthday special! Every little contribution goes toward getting her a gift. Your kindness means the world to me and I truly appreciate your support! Thank you so much!!! CLICKHERE ♥️ (PayPal link)

My masterlist.

Divider by @strangergraphics.

It/Fnaf taglist, you might like this (@satubby @sketchist-art @urdeftonesgrrrl @vampirecrow38 @lilac-and-lavender @sra7riddle-malfoy)

[greengoblinswifey]

hey, babes! can you make fratboy!nick but a theater/movie geek please i’m begging. i’m talking like him spewing facts, giving commentary, theories, minor details, and he even wants to recreate an iconic love scene with you. like the pottery scene from ghost it would eat down so hard. that’s if you’re up for it!

Fratboy!Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

warnings— nicholas being a cutie, fluff, L bombs, unprotected sex, praise kink, creampie.

a/n— i love this, def need more fratboy!nicholas requests🤭hope you enjoy <3

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

Nicholas led you upstairs to his room at his parents’ house for the first time, his hand wrapped around yours, his grin wide as he opened the door. “Okay, don’t judge me,” he said, stepping aside to let you in.

The room was big and full of character. Shelves lined the walls, filled with DVDs, Blu-rays, and vintage cassettes, alongside stacks of theater playbills. A massive movie poster for Titanic hung above his bed, while smaller posters for Scream and Beetle Juice were tacked up on the other walls.

Your eyes widened as you ran your fingers over the spines of the cassettes. “Nick, you have so many movies. This is crazy.”

“It’s a collection, not just movies,” he corrected with a playful smirk, leaning against the doorframe. “I’ve got everything. Horror, romance, thrillers, musicals, you name it. This right here is a lifetime of excellent taste.”

You laughed, pulling out a cassette with a faded cover. “Pretty Woman? Really?”

“Are you kidding me?” He stepped forward, taking it from your hand and holding it like it was precious. “This movie is a masterpiece. Julia Roberts practically redefined what a rom com could be. The jewelry box scene? Improvised. That’s the kind of magic you can’t plan.”

“You’re such a geek baby,” you teased, putting the cassette back.

“And proud of it,” he said, grinning as he reached for a DVD case. “This? The Notebook. I dare anyone to watch Noah and Allie kiss in the rain and not believe in love.”

“You’re serious about all of this, huh?”

“Dead serious,” he said, his voice softening. “Movies and theater are everything to me. They’re not just entertainment, they’re moments. Like, take Phantom of the Opera. The chandelier crashing, the Phantom singing Music of the Night, it’s pure, raw emotion. And horror? Don’t even get me started on Halloween. That single shot of Michael Myers standing behind Laurie Strode? Chills. Every time.”

You couldn’t help but smile as you traced your fingers over another row of his horror DVDs. “Do you ever stop thinking about this stuff?”

“Nope,” he said, unapologetic. “And I’ll die on this hill, Dirty Dancing is the greatest romance of all time. That final lift? Cinema history babe.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re so over the top, Nick.”

He grinned and took your hand, tugging you toward a small box beneath his bed. “If you think that’s over the top, wait till you see this.” Inside the box were old theater programs and ticket stubs. “This is everything I’ve been to, plays, musicals, even little community theater stuff. My first was The Lion King on Broadway. I was like ten, and when Mufasa appeared in the stars? I cried like a baby.”

You leaned against him, flipping through the programs. “It’s kind of adorable how passionate you are about this.”

“Adorable?” He raised an eyebrow. “I’ll take it. But, for the record, I’m also very serious about recreating iconic movie scenes. You, me, and a pottery wheel? Ghost style. It’s happening.”

“Oh my god,” you said, laughing. “You’re obsessed with that scene.”

“Because it’s perfect!” he said, his hands flying. “It’s intimate, romantic, and ridiculously sexy. Tell me you wouldn’t want to try it.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You don’t even own a pottery wheel, baby.”

“Not the point,” he said, taking your hand. “Come with me.”

The two of you ended up in his parents’ basement, where a table was covered with an old sheet, and a small hunk of clay sat in the center. Nicholas grinned as he set up a Bluetooth speaker, scrolling through his phone. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.”

A moment later, Unchained Melody began to play.

“Nick,” you said, laughing as he dragged a stool over. “You planned this?”

“Of course,” he said, motioning for you to sit in front of the clay. “This is the ultimate love scene. Come on.”

You sat down, shaking your head as he moved behind you, his arms slipping around your waist to guide your hands to the clay. His touch was warm, his breath brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Relax. Just follow my lead.”

Your boyfriend’s arms stayed wrapped around you as he guided your hands over the clay, his voice low and playful. “You know this is how it starts in Ghost.”

You laughed softly, turning your head slightly to look at him. “Are you going to start quoting it?”

“Oh, absolutely.” He grinned, leaning in to nuzzle your neck before his voice dropped into a soft, dramatic tone. “‘It’s amazing, Molly. The love inside, you take it with you.’”

You rolled your eyes, giggling. “You’re so corny.”

“And yet,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear, “you’re still here. You love me.”

He wasn’t wrong. His warmth pressed against your back, his hands still covering yours as the clay spun beneath your fingers. The intimacy of the moment, coupled with the deep sound of his voice and the soft strains of Unchained Melody playing in the background, sent a shiver through you.

Nicholas noticed. “Cold?” he asked teasingly, his lips moving to the curve of your shoulder.

You shook your head, your voice barely above a whisper. “No.”

“Good,” he murmured, his hands leaving the clay to slide down to your waist. He turned you slightly on the stool, his gaze locking with yours. His brown eyes were soft, holding the weight of the moment.

“You’re not even paying attention to the clay anymore,” you teased, your voice shaky as his hands rested firmly on your hips.

“That’s because I’m paying attention to you,” he said, leaning in closer. His lips found yours, gentle at first, before deepening the kiss. His fingers went to your sides, pulling you closer as he whispered, “You’re so beautiful.”

You couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at your lips as he kissed you again, his passion matching the way his hands explored your waist and ass.

“Nick,” you moaned when his lips trailed back to your neck, planting soft kisses along your skin.

“Mm?” he hummed against you, his voice warm and teasing.

“This isn’t exactly like Ghost anymore,” you said, laughing softly as your hands tangled in his hair.

“Better,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. His lips quirked into a mischievous grin. “Way better.”

His lips found yours again, soft, as he cupped your face. The clay on your hands was forgotten, smudges left on both of you, but neither of you cared. The air around you felt hot, the faint strains of Unchained Melody still playing in the background.

“Are you okay with this?” Nicholas whispered, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm against your lips.

You nodded, your hands sliding up to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. “I’m okay baby,” you said softly.

“Tell me if you’re not,” he murmured, brushing a strand of your braids behind your ear. His hands lingered on your waist, his thumbs stroking gentle circles.

“I will, baby,” you assured him, your voice steady, though your pulse raced.

“I love you,” he said, the sincerity in his voice making you feel like the only person in the world.

Your cheeks warmed as his hands moved from your waist to grab your ass guiding you closer. His kisses deepened, slow and steady, leaving no doubt about how much he wanted you.

His lips found their way to your neck again, pressing gentle kisses along your skin. “You’re perfect,” he whispered against you, his voice thick with emotion.

Your hands slid to his shoulders, feeling the strength there as he leaned into you. “Nick,” you whispered, his name slipping out like a prayer.

“Yes, baby?” he murmured, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

“I want you so bad. Please fuck me,” you admitted, feeling a shiver run down your spine as his gaze softened further.

“God, you’re so beautiful when you’re needy like this,” he said, his lips curling into a small smile before kissing you again, his hands caressing your ass.

He stood, lifting you effortlessly in his arms. “Come with me,” he said softly, carrying you toward the couch in the basement. He sat down, pulling you gently onto his lap, your legs straddling him.

“You’re so beautiful my love,” he whispered, his hands sliding up to cup your face again. “I want to make you feel good. Tell me if I’m doing too much, okay?”

You nodded, your fingers tangling in his hair as you leaned in to kiss him. “I trust you baby, you know that,” you said softly, feeling his hands settle on your hips.

He groaned softly, his head falling back as you pressed kisses along his jawline. “You’re driving me crazy, you know that?” he murmured, his hands squeezing your waist.

Your laughter was soft as you leaned back to look at him. “Good,” you teased, feeling more confident under his gaze.

“You’re the most perfect girlfriend ever,” he said again, his voice full of awe as his hands roamed your back, pulling you closer. “You feel so good in my arms.”

Nicholas moaned as you straddled him, your short dress riding up your thighs as you settled onto his lap. His hands slid up, gripping your hips, his breath already coming in shallow gasps. “You’re going to kill me,” he whispered, his lips brushing against yours.

“You’ll survive,” you teased, your fingers slipping into his sweats to pull out his hard and leaking cock.

When your hands touched his cock, he hissed softly, his hands gripping your hips. His fingers moved to the hem of your dress, hiking it higher as his dark eyes met yours. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

You smiled, leaning in close enough for your lips to brush his ear. “Why don’t you show me?”

His breath hitched as he slid your thong to the side, his movements hurried yet careful. He reached down to position his cock, his jaw tightening as you took him and guided him to your entrance. The stretch was slow and deliberate as you sank down onto him, both of you moaning softly at the sensation.

“We don’t have much time before my parents get back,” he murmured, his voice thick with urgency, his hands gripping your waist.

“Then we’d better make it count,” you said with a sly smile, rolling your hips and eliciting a low, guttural moan from him.

You began to move, bouncing on his cock, your hands braced on his shoulders before one slid to wrap around his neck. His head fell back, his hands sliding to grip your ass as you picked up the pace. “Y-you feel better than Heaven,” he gasped, his words breaking apart as his hips bucked instinctively.

“Just sit there and take it,” you whispered, your tone dripping with authority as you ground your hips against him.

“Yes, ma’am,” he moaned, his hands squeezing you tighter. “Anything you say.”

His praises spilled from his lips between moans, his eyes locked on you as though he couldn’t get enough. “You’re so perfect, so beautiful. I can’t get over how good you feel.”

You smirked, leaning forward to press a kiss to his jawline. “You’re doing so well for me, baby,” you murmured, your voice sending shivers through him.

His breathing grew more ragged, his grip on you desperate. “I— I’m close," he stuttered, his head falling forward to rest against your shoulder. “Please, baby. I’ve been your good boy. Please let me cum.”

His tone made your heart race as your own orgasm began to build. “Cum with me,” you urged, your voice soft but commanding as you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer.

When your climax hit, it felt like a wave crashing over you, leaving you breathless and moaning. Nicholas followed moments later, his body tensing beneath you as he moaned your name and his cum exploded inside you, his face buried in your neck.

“I love you,” you whispered against his skin.

“I love you more,” he replied, his voice low but sure as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

Before either of you could fully recover, you heard the unmistakable sound of a car pulling into the driveway. “Oh shit,” you breathed, glancing toward the window.

Nicholas’ eyes widened, and he helped you scramble off his lap, both of you moving quickly to adjust your clothes. He pulled you into a quick kiss, his smile soft and adoring despite the rush. “You’re amazing,” he whispered before stepping back to make himself presentable.

By the time his parents walked through the door, the two of you were seated on the couch upstairs, your hands intertwined and matching smiles on your faces as though nothing had happened.

[small-sinclair]

Check List

Whumptober 17: Nowhere else to go

A RZ!Michael Myers x fem sleeping!reader Tw: stocker maybe?, gore mentioned, blood mentioned, he might be obsessed with reader if you squint

Nowhere else to go

Michael knew who you were because he’s not only seen you around the neighborhood, but he’s seen you without you spotting him. He wasn’t stocking you, for say, but he wasn’t planning to kill you, either. You were just part of his daily check list for some reason, and he had to see you at the same time every day. If he doesn’t, there’s a new body, a new murder story for the morning news the next day. Michael saw more as a little wondering soul than a person. If anything, he saw you more as a thing to watch for than go after. You’re just as harmless as a bunny.

Which led him to sneaking into your house while the cops were searching for him, trying to stop the freak with the knife, the Boggy Man as some call him. He knew where your spare key was hidden, he knew which door to use, and he knew which path to take to get to your room. His footsteps went unheard as he inched closer to your sleeping form and tangled sheets. As far as he knew, he didn’t know what he was going to do to you. He stood at the edge of your bed, watching you as you slept, thinking to himself all the terrible, bloody things he could do to your body. He could rip you apart limp from limp, break every bone in alphabetical order, kill you swiftly, silently, or he could wrap his hands around that delegate throat of yours and just squeeze. Michael thought over and over on what he wanted to do, but each one made his stomach churn and turn away from you every time he thought of your body in a mangled mess.

No matter how hard he pushed himself, how hard he wanted to, he couldn’t bring himself to harm you.

Must be from that cheek list he made.

His grip on the knife loosens and hits the wooden floor, causing you to stir but go back to sleep. His heavy blue and green eyes looked over your skin, perfect as a picture in the moonlight, and marveled at your peaceful from. What were you dreaming about? What beautiful dream were you living in that head of yours? Let him be part of it just for a moment. Spare a thought, a vision of him, then set him free from the cobwebs and chains that held him back for so long. If he couldn’t be part of it, not part of the little thoughts and threads, then stay at peace and still, for he doesn’t want the darkness that follows to engulfed your running water thoughts and gentle breathing.

Michael wished he didn’t have to be here, but the police were closing in like a pack of hunting dogs to a fox. He had nowhere else to go, but he felt thankful in a way. He’s looking over a sleeping angel with the moon tangled in their hair, making a halo of hope and bliss. Apart from breaking into your home in the dead of night with dry blood on his boots, he felt blessed to be gifted with this vision of you.

Gently, he lifts his mask, taking it off, and placing it quietly on your dresser. He two to steps, just striding without effort, and stood over you. He basked in the moonlight view of you, wishing he could take a photo and have it in his pocket. Michael pulls his hair back until it was resting on his shoulder and knelt on the floor in front of your sleeping face. The monster felt human for once. The shadow over this town faded until there was a man just looking back in a reflective surface. Slowly, he inched closer to you, daring his courage and thoughts, until he felt your breath, cool and smooth, on his lip. Michael shuddered at the thought of your lips on his, marveling at the thought of you waking up and embracing him as a man, not as a monster, as a killer, and as a lunitic that escaped. Thoughts of being normal carved into his bones until he felt them turn into dust, and he felt more and more at home as he looked at you.

You’re on his list, his check list.

He had nowhere else to go, nowhere else to call home, yet he found it here with you sleeping in an oversized shirt and gym shorts. He found it sleeping soundlessly under tangled blankets and a small mountain of stuffed animals. The peacefulness that flows from your heartbeat and blood flow...he wanted to be a part of your more until thoughts of him being in you, physical and mentally. He wanted to be a part of your story and live a thousand tales with you. He was just there, right there! So close to your sleeping arms and blissful lips that he began to hunger for—

Not like this. No... he can’t do this like this.

Michael withdrew from your side and stood up, blocking the moonlight from making your skin glow. He licked his lips as his eyes marveled and memorized each curve and mark on your body. He turns, picks up his knife, and takes his mask. He gives you one last glance, one last moment for his eyes to gaze over you like this and leaves your room for the living room. He sits down on the rocking chair and leaned back into the cushion until he felt his eyes drift off. Sleep called for him, for the man who never slept before a day in his life. As his eyes closed, his last thoughts were spared for you and your moonlight haloed hair.

[ghostfacesvalentine]

Multimuse x Fem!Reader - Muses as tropes

Pairing: Multimuse x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of killing, nothing explicit but a little nsfw. I don’t know if there’s more.

Type: Blerps

Request: N/A

Word Count: N/A

Prompt: The muses’ as some tropes! Maybe they don’t all fit as accurately but maybe I’ll do another one (?) idk lmk if they work or not.

Notes: I didn’t proofread anything. I don’t know if I’ll keep this up (?)

Jason Voorhees:

Fish out of water- Reader isn’t outdoorsy at all, forced to get a job during summer while college classes are out, they apply to camp crystal lake. The reader has a really hard time fitting in with the rest of the camp counselors, mainly for not knowing the processes of camp or how to handle equipment. One by one counselors go missing, often found in gruesome circumstances. One counselor takes a liking to the reader, when reader doesn’t reciprocate, the hazing gets worse. Eventually the reader meets Jason, learning the history of camp crystal lake, reader sympathizes with him. Jason goes on a rampage when he finds out about the hazing/bullying, until the reader is the only one left.

Michael Myers:

Grump and sunshine- More than likely met at the asylum Michael is incarcerated in. Reader learns about Michael’s past and struggles then decides to be his sunshine. Reader has the mentality of “I could fix him” but often is let down by his gruesome actions. Somehow Micheal is still drawn to the reader and does have a little bit of an obsessive bodyguard mentality. Reader is constantly kissing Michael and being affectionate. She’s the only one to get a non violent reaction from him.

Tiffany Valentine:

Wants different things- Reader wants to pursue Tiffany, but she just wants something casual. Reader spends time trying to impress her and make her realize they are the one. Tiffany could just want to date or go out every other day/the reader is not on her mind/ maybe she goes back and forth with chucky. Reader goes out of way to make Tiffany fall in love with them and stay with them.

Billy Loomis:

Unrequited love- Reader falls in love with Billy, going out of their way to help them and spend time with them but can’t help but be jealous of Sydney for being with Billy. Listens to him about all of his relationship issues, eventually learning of his double life as ghostface. Reader goes out of her way to cover up his crimes and eventually has to make a choice of whether or not to admit her feelings to him after taking the fall for one of his mistakes. Once the reader is detained, they have to hope that Stu or Billy could kill again to get them out of jail.

Stu Macher:

Popular boy x shy girl- Reader doesn’t go to parties much in fear of being made fun of or taken advantage of, until Stu meets them in class. After consistently pestering reader to skip class or hang out after school, reader eventually does so. With time they both become great friends, Stu takes the reader under his wing. He invites her to parties and even with the attention he receives, none of them are her.

Patrick Bateman:

Fake relationship- Patrick uses reader to make his ex fiancé jealous, he helps the reader appear more accomplished, spoils them to look their best. Fake dates turn into real ones, handing the reader gifts becomes surprising the reader with them. Once the readers eyes begin to wander, Patrick’s back is against the wall to admit to the reader that he doesn’t want her to be with anyone else.

Leatherface:

Love at first sight- Reader for some reason visits the farm and bubba falls in love with her immediately. He’s dumbfounded and clumsily follows her around the farm. Reader doesn’t understand but over time she gets to know him. Bubba spends his time picking flowers and trying to find a way to make her a mask. He mourns when she’s gone but when she comes back he’s all over her again.

Harley Quinn:

Amnesia- Reader and Harley wake up in a basement, tied together and without any resources. At first they start to bicker, wondering who got the other in this situation. Without any source of light or anyone to hear their cries, they start to get to know each other. After hours, they try to break loose to no avail, forcing them to continue their forced friendship. Eventually Harley forces herself out of the restraints, making the decision to break the reader free even with the danger of being caught. As they try to escape, they begin to retrace their steps and learn what led them to their initial predicament.

Poison Ivy:

Love potion- Ivy experiments with reader by trying her love potion with them. Of course it starts to work and now the reader is disgustingly lovesick and wants nothing but to be loved by Ivy. Ivy loves the attention and dedication but eventually comes to terms with the fact that this could be just the love potion. Ivy has to come up with a cure and after she does and gives it to the reader, the reader still loves Ivy.

Bruce Wayne:

Too dumb to live- Reader always ends up in dangerous situations, even without trying. ‘Batman’ or ‘Bruce Wayne’ always ends up barely rescuing her. She’s oblivious to the coincidences, however Bruce loves to see her from afar. He tries desperately to find a way to get her close to him, maybe by hiring her for Wayne enterprise or frequenting her job. Eventually, the reader puts two and two together and they confront each other about the coincidences. Eventually they start to date and Bruce has to maneuver with being Batman and being the readers body guard, basically.

Billy Hargrove:

Ladykiller in love- Of course Billy has all eyes on him at school, eventually making their way to the reader. At first she’s skeptical but decided to give Billy a chance, which he gladly takes. Billy slowly begins to fall hard for the reader, to a point where he can’t stop thinking about her, often going out of his way to be with the reader. Though the reader is skeptical, they try to avoid Billy and his advances in hopes of not being just another pursuit. With time, Billy has to prove the reader that she’s wrong about him.

Steve Harrington:

Second chance lovers- Almost dated, but whether reader or Steve weren’t ready, one of them got kidnapped by the government or in another relationship etc. Eventually reader and Steve (whoever left) has to entice the other to give them another chance. Really sweet and disgustingly romantic.

Steve Rogers:

One night stand- Reader and Steve hook up one night, afterwards reader avoids Steve at all costs in fear of bringing up that night. Steve goes out of his way to look for the reader, hoping to reconnect. He tries to be subtle about it, ordering coffee at the same shop at the same time she does, stopping by the same bookstore she meets her book club at during the week. Eventually Steve confronts the reader about them avoiding him, which leads them to reconcile and hook up again.

Bucky Barnes:

Disapproving parents- Though Bucky is a charm, your parents disapprove of your relationship, they think he’s far too old for you. Not to mention the kind of work he does makes them worry for your safety. You spend nights sneaking out or having him sneak in, you both can’t stay off of each other, even with the risk of getting caught. He spends his time trying to swoon you, not to mention your parents, but they simply side eye him. You think you have it under control until you don’t, it’s either him or your parents.

Loki Laufeyson:

Captor falls for captive- Throughout his time with the grandmaster, he was under strict supervision, one mistake after the next, he was forced to become one of the grandmasters bounty hunters. He was given the instruction to bring back a handful of women and men to serve in the grandmasters favor. After capturing a handful of prisoners, reader included, he takes a really great liking to the reader, instead deciding to keep her to himself. With riches and gold, he tries to buy her love, but maybe it’ll take more time for her to see the real him.

Cloud Strife:

Bodyguard- Reader meets Cloud in seventh heaven, not knowing the area, she opts to stay close to the bar. After some whispers among the bar, Cloud finds out about the readers lack of knowledge about the dangers of the area. Eventually Cloud decides to strike up a conversation with the reader, asking if he could help her get anywhere. At first the reader opts to get to somewhere safe to sleep, but as they get to know each other more, Cloud lets the reader follow him around. Though he has the second headache of keeping them safe, they take a liking to one another.

Sebastian Michaelis:

Runaway bride- Reader was in an unhappy relationship, or being cheated on, not knowing how to handle the situation in fear of her fiancée retaliating, the reader up and leaves the ongoing wedding before walking down the aisle. While running down the streets in her dress she bumps into Sebastian, who knows of her fiancée. Offering her to help her calm down, he offers her a place to stay until she gets herself together. She eventually becomes essential to the phantomhive household, still hiding behind Sebastian in hopes of never seeing her ex again.

Spencer Reid:

Professor x college student- Reader pursued Dr. Reid’s class in hopes of learning more about criminal psychology. After appearing in class every week without an absence, the reader tries to get close to the professor in an innocent manner, simply wanting to learn more and with hopes of making his job easier. The more time they spend with each other, the more they start to be attracted to each others features, way of thinking and understanding each other. Things escalate and they have to keep their relationship a secret in hopes of not being reprimanded.

Jason Todd:

Good girl/Bad guy trope- Though I wouldn’t classify Jason as a ‘bad guy’, seeing him with someone who loves him purely would be so cute. Reader met Jason at the park when walking alone, he decided to help her get home safely when he realized she was buzzed after drinking for the first time. After meeting in secret time and time again due to readers strict parents, they begin to fall for each other. “Touch her and you die” kind of vibe. Bonus points for Jason being the readers first everything or mostly everything.

[apocalypse-shuffle]

MICHAEL MYERS | THE SHAPE (any iteration | any canon timeline idc)

—

Sex w/ Michael Myers (Michael Myers x Fem!Reader)

Headcanons

NSFW, 18+, minors dni, shoddy communication (because Michael), mild dubious consent

Pic Source: Rob Zombie’s Halloween, Halloween II, & Halloween Kills(?)

Michael ain’t easy when it comes to letting you know he’s horny.

Let’s say you’re at your computer desk working when he’s suddenly behind you.

He’s all up on you in seconds, lifting you up, taking your place in the chair, and putting you on his lap.

His rough hands find your breasts shortly after. Michael doesn’t speak as he touches you but with him so close you can hear the small groans that crawl up his throat.

You arch your back against him as he tweaks your nipples. Rubbing the dark nubs between his thumb and forefinger incessantly.

Moaning, you throw your head back on his shoulder to pant out: “What has gotten into you?”

He doesn’t react much to the question, only getting just that much louder groaning in your ear as he starts to rut up against your ass.

No sooner is he rubbing his length against your core through the layers of fabric between y’all and you’re left moaning and wondering when he’ll get impatient (because now you’re turned on too and you’re getting impatient) when he hoists you over his shoulder to reposition you.

Michael isn’t a cock warming type of man but once he gets you on the nearest flat surface he’s stuffing his semi erect dick into you with zero hesitation.

He squeezes your thigh and grunts at you to get a move on until you start milking him to full hardness.

After that it’s all Michael for the next while until he gets off, you cuming when he’s trying to nut is not the goal but if you happen to then that’s nice (initially at least).

Mainly Michael deals with himself first before coming back to finish you off after. He will breed you - every time - if you do not dissuade him from the action.

Regardless of where Michael’s cum, once he’s taken care of himself is when whether or not you came while he was getting off will come into play. If you didn’t then you’ll be well taken care of by relentless, nicely overwhelming precision. If you did, on the other hand, then prepare to be thoroughly punished because Michael is going to give you special attention whether you still want it now or not.

This man will (and revels in it tbh) overstimulate you to tears. You wanted to come so bad well then here you go, he doesn’t care if you're jerking around and sobbing he’s more than strong enough to restrain you.

Any form of aftercare depends on the version of Michael. RZ!Michael is definitely going to try, and with some direction from you he’ll be amazing at it. He wants that softer, less frenzied connection with you after the fact, and aftercare soothes and reassures you as well as him. OG!Michael and Old Man Myers (or Peepaw, as the ladies call him) on the other hand I firmly believe won’t care for aftercare all that much; at most you’ll get some base level rearranging done so that you're on a more comfortable surface and whatever supplies you might need will be easy to find and that’s it.

In general; if you're not in the mood (or are alternatively never in the mood) Michael is more or less easily dissuaded. You kind of have to start the pattern of sex for it to be something he goes looking for from you in the first place. If he can’t let out his sexual frustrations with you though then he has plenty of other fleshy and easily stab-able ways to let that frustration out.

Michael also regularly goes dormant - usually of his own accord - and has periods where he doesn’t kill so it’s pretty safe to assume that the same goes for his sex drive. When he’s in the mood to fuck is harder to track, and more spontaneous, than when he’s about to gear up to unleash his bloodthirst on the world though.

On another note let’s say you’re the one in the mood but Michael’s pretty firmly not. Likely it’s because he’s obsessing over a target for whatever reason. During times like these though, when his stalking and slashing are in high demand, you’ll barely even catch sight of him until he’s satisfied regardless.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!

I won’t say this was my best work, but I can only fuck around with a post for so long and I think a year was more than long enough for this to be ruminating in my drafts.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it! this is a sideblog tho so I won’t respond.

[homestylehughes]

boyfriend jack headcanons

jack hughes x fem!reader 

summary: how i think jack would act as a boyfriend!

warnings: sfw and nsfw 18+

wc: 642

an: hiiiii loves!!! i thought since i already did luke, and quinn boyfriend headcanons i thought i should finish off the hughes brothers and do jack!! i'm currently going through jack withdraws and tmr is his birthday... HE NEEDS TO MAKE HIMSELF KNOWN AGAIN!! anywayssssss! hope you enjoy, like and reblog if you do, much love<3

happy reading <3

Sfw: 

bf!jack:  jack is a big cuddler. It doesn't matter if he's the big spoon, little spoon or just laying flat on top of you, he just likes being around you in general. He loves cuddling after a long day on the boat during summer, your warm skin always invites him in.

bf!jack: jack loves cooking for you, a lot of people poke at jack for not being able to cook, but in reality he can cook very well. You never get tired of the smell and sight of Jack looking for you after a long day or just randomly. Institing that you sit down and drink a glass of wine, saying he’ll take care of everything.

bf!jack: jack hates horror films, but you love them. You never make him have to watch them with you but he does anyway. You'll never forget the time that you guys were watching halloween on halloween and he stayed up all night talking about michael myers and how if he came face to face with him, how he would take him down explaining his strategies to you in extreme detail. 

bf!jack: oh buddy, is jack a yapper. He loves to talk, he can talk about everything and anything with you. He never runs out of things to say, his favorite time to yap is when you both get settled into bed, you both go back and forth about most random things before you sleep, making for the best laughs and memories.

bf!jack: jack is obsessed with you. Completely whipped, his brothers and friends would say, he can never get enough of you. He loves being around you, posting you on his social media, showing you off at any event he has to go to, you are always his plus one. He loves when people ask about you, he talks about you so sweetly and lovingly. He loves everything about you.

nsfw: 

bf!jack: jack loves to fuck you everywhere, even in the most risky places where theres a high chance that you can get caught. His new favorite place to fuck you at is the balcony of your guys apartment, where anyone could see you at any moment. 

Bf!jack: your moans have to be jack's favorite sounds. He loves hearing how responsive you are to everything he does. The way your mouth falls open as you try and talk but nothing comes out, or when you drop your head back and moan his name loudly, telling him not to stop.

bf!jack: jack loves giving you hickey to show everyone that you're his. I'm not talking about the ones that are hidden, I mean the ones that are bright purple and red, the ones that you can't cover. Covering you in them, then parading you around like you're the stanley cup in front of everyone.

bf!jack: jack seeing you with his number on your back, really does something to him. After almost every home game, he bends you over the couch and fucks you with the jersey on your back, hes convinced its the hottest sight hes evet laid his eyes on

bf!jack: loves loves loves cockwarming, sometimes he does even crave a release, he just wants to be close to you. The way you wrap around him so warm and snug as you guys sleep or just laying in bed contempt with each other.

bf!jack: jack loves to edge you. He loves hearing and watching you beg to cum. The sight alone of you fucked out on the bed, sweat covering your body as your hands are tied up above your head so you cant touch. Jack thrusts his fingers in and out slowly, alternating between his mouth and finger, maybe both at the sametime. Hearing you moan and beg to come from above him.

[slasherx]

Gurl you write so fast like a Machine 😂, I wish I could write like that, and also good luck with your finals!

Can I do a request for A Micheal Myers with a childhood crush (female) like as a kid Michael had a crush on the reader but like after he killed they were separated for years but them micheal broke out and came across the reader all grown up if you can!

Also can you do Rz Michael, he's my favorite

Lol thats cause I have the motivation to write about slashers rn. And thank you! I got a 94% on one of them, but I won't get my final grade on the other one for a bit. I hope I pass.

Content: Michael Myers x fem!Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, obsessive love

Notes: Even though the gif is peepaw Myers, this takes place in the RZ universe

• ───────────────── •

Michael was put away in the asylum when he was ten. Before he made a vow to never speak again, he kept asking his mother and Dr. Loomis where you were, and if you could come visit him. His mother promised to talk to your parents about it, but that she couldn't guarantee you could come see him.

And so she did. She tried talking to your parents, but your parents wanted you nowhere near that monster of a child. They outright refused her on numerous occasions, even when Michael's mother pleaded with them on her knees at their front door.

When she broke the news to Michael that you wouldn't be seeing him, Michael lost it. He could feel something in his head snap, the same way it snapped when bullies would hurt you or him. Or the same way he felt himself snap that Halloween night.

He managed to keep it cool until Dr. Loomis and his mother left, but when they sent in that nurse to watch him until they could escort him to his room, he couldn't hold it in any longer. He took his plastic fork and jammed it into her throat, cutting her scream short. He was angry. Why wouldn't you come see him? Why? Why, why, why? He didn't understand...he thought you were best friends.

• ───────────────── •

Eight years after that day, he had a visitor that wasn't Dr. Loomis. He had known his mother killed herself, his sister was dead, and Boo was probably far away in the foster care system, so he had hoped it was you.

When they sat him in the room, he had felt anxious for the first time in years. Had you changed like he had? Did you grow out your hair like him? Grown taller like him? He kept a mask on, one he made in rememberance of you. It was just your favorite color all over it.

Finally, you walked in and sat down across from Michael. A couple guards stood at the door, in case Michael tried to leap at you regardless of his cuffs chaining him to the table. He was breathing heavily - you had changed.

You had grown taller, but you remained shorter than him. Now at eighteen, you seemed very mature for your age, and Michael wanted to leap across the table at you, but not to kill you.

"Hi Michael. My parents don't know I'm here. I just...came to provide an explanation, since I feel you deserve one." You spoke, hands in your lap. "Your mother begged my parents to let me see you on many occasions, and each time they told her no. I remember one time she cried and got on her knees to beg my mother, but she just shut the door in her face."

Michael listened, quiet as ever. He was just happy to see you in front of him again. He was also surprised that Dr. Loomis wasn't here to supervise this meeting.

"And I want you to know that Dr. Loomis has contacted me since I turned eighteen, and we've spoken about you a couple of times. He told me you don't speak anymore, and that you killed a nurse while being in here." You decided it was now or never to try and break his vow of silence. "Is...is that true, Michael?"

Michael wanted to break his silence, but he knew Loomis would be on his ass if he did. So all he did was nod his head yes.

You seemed to shift uncomfortably. Your breathing increased, and he could tell you were scared. This saddened him - he didn't want you to be scared of him, he wanted you to love him. You two were attached to each other as children, why would a few murders make this any different?

"I...think I better go before my parents realize I'm not at my friends house." You started to get up, when Michael launched at you and grabbed your wrist, straining the cuffs on him.

He held you hard, and you could see the desperation in his eyes. He was all alone here. But he still killed those people, and if you weren't careful, you'd be next. The guards moved forward and forced Michael back, and a few more people rushed into the room. One rushed to you and put his hands on your shoulders.

"Ma'am, ma'am, are you alright?" The man asked.

You nodded. "Yeah, thank you." It was too fast for you to process it, but Michael was staring at you. "Please, take me out of here."

• ───────────────── •

Now outside, you saw Dr. Loomis by your car. He was pacing, clearly nervous about your meeting with Michael. Then when he saw you approach, he waved to you.

"How did it go?"

"Please don't talk to me. I shouldn't have come here." You responded shakily.

"What happened in there? Did he break his silence?"

"No, but he fucking grabbed me! Who knows what else he would have done if the guards hadn't been there?! I was crazy to even come here." You opened your car door and got inside.

"Please, wait, (Y/n). You don't know how much you mean to Michael, I-"

"Save it, Dr. Loomis. I'm going home. Stop calling me." You started up your car and peeled out of the parking lot. Memories of you and Michael as kids began to race through your head and you began to cry. How did it come to this...?

• ───────────────── •

Seven more years went by. Seven more years where Michael didn't see you. Seven more angry years. But now, it was different. Michael was standing in front of your house.

He was different now. He was more built, even taller, and his hair was even longer. You used to comment on his long hair as a kid, it was one of the reasons he kept it so long in the first place.

He could see you through the window. You lived alone now, just down the street from your childhood home. He was content watching you through the window. You were preparing dinner, when you suddenly got a call. He decided now was the time to enter your home.

Moving around to the back door, he began to pick the lock.

"Hello?" You picked up your phone.

With a click, he was in.

"(Y/n)! You need to listen to me-" Dr. Loomis practically shouted on the other line.

Michael slowly opened the door.

"Save it, Dr. Loomis. I told you to stop calling me." You were about to hang up.

Michael made his way to your living room, right next to your kitchen.

"He's escaped! Michael has escaped!"

"What?" You spoke, shock and fear tearing through your system. You put a hand over your mouth, and looked up through your window, but you saw a figure behind you.

"You're not safe! Flee Haddonfield!" Dr. Loomis begged.

You spun around to see a large man with a knife glistening in his hand. He had a white mask on, blonde hair poking out underneath it. You didn't need him to take off the mask to see who it was. Your fear skyrocketed as you thought he was going to kill you.

"Michael...?" You spoke, slowly lowering the phone and ignoring Dr. Loomis' pleas.

Michael moved towards you. He finally had you now, and he would never let you go again. He was yours, and you will be his.

• ───────────────── •

Here's my masterlist, in case you like what you see and want to request more!

[slashingdisneypasta]

Freddy Krueger and Jason Voorhees x Reader || Headcanons

Plot: Y/N and Y/N (Whoever you wanna be with) are in attendance together at the Las Vegas Weigh In.

🗝Key🗝: For convenience, JasonS/O!Reader will be referred to as 🏒 and FreddyS/O!Reader will be referred to as 💤.

Warnings: Just like the weigh in itself, this is just for giggles.

Tagging: @cartoonykat , @ghouletka , @gr4veyardg1irl , @kawaistrawberry21 , @lady-love88 , @masqueradeball , @microwavemadness , @miss-understood , @obscureother , @slxsherwriter , @spookiifi , @thecourtofgraywaves , and @yesthetrashbin .

🏒, wearing a t shirt with a hockey mask on the back: Come on, Jason loves it! *Waives at Jason. Turns around, shows him their back*

Jason: *Pointedly looks away, embarrassed*

🏒: He loves it. Here, I made you one with the Elm Street sign-

💤 : Thank you, but its your job to help build Jason's confidence! ^^ For that, its great.

💤: ... Freddy has enough of that.

🏒: ... *looks at the stage again*

Freddy: *is fake boxing the air*

🏒: ... Point made.

💤: Ye- oh shoot he's looking this way. Quickly, put it back away!-

.

🏒: ... is it just me or are they getting closer together?

💤: I think maybe it's just a trick of the lights?- Oh. Uh oh.

💤: Not a trick of the lights. Boy, is Jason big.

🏒: Should we do something????

💤: He's huge.

🏒: Really, I think they're too close. Should we?-

💤: Freddy!! Have you thought this through????

🏒: SERIOUSLY, 💤!!

.

Freddy: *kicks down the stand*

💤: I'm not paying for that.

.

Freddy: He's big, he's dumb, he's stupid-

🏒: -HEY! BELOW THE BELT.

🏒: DONT MAKE ME COME UP THERE, BACON BITS-

💤: *... Calmly taking out pre-cut, pre-packaged snacks*

🏒: OH YES I WILL-

💤: *Offers open bag to 🏒*

🏒: *Immediately calms down and nibbles on a snack*

🏒: ... is your plan to just feed me any time I get mad at him?

💤: ... nooo...

.

Jason: *Doing the 'yapping' gesture with his hand while Freddy talks*

💤: *Snort*

Freddy: *=_=*

💤: -Ehem. Oh, would you look at that... *Suddenly very interested in snacks*

.

💤: ... Tell me again how much Jason weighs?

🏒: You have to stop obsessing over this.

💤: You're right, you're right.

💤: ... But still-

.

🏒: Oh COME ON!!

🏒: He's crossing a line, now!! 💤 your snacks are not going to save him any longer-

💤: *Takes out a flask* I also have alcohol-

Jason: *=_=*

💤: *gasp* *Hides it immediately back in bag* I MEAN NO! NO! That's bad. Whoopsie.

🏒: *cough* meet me in the bathroom in 10.

.

🏒: That man is NOT going to play fair,.. is he?

💤: Not likely, no.

🏒: I'm gonna get Jason a cup.

.

🏒: I have a question! I need to get that mike.

💤: Hey! We're not allowed to psych them out!

🏒, taking the microphone: I'm not gonna say anything to Freddy in imparticular, don't worry!

💤: ... 🤨 then what

🏒: I simply want to know who they think would win between Michael Myers and Chucky!

Jason, overhearing: *writes Michael on a piece of paper. And Stronger.*

Freddy, peaking the note: Hey! Muscle ain't everything, hockey puck, we know that. At least the doll gets creative about it.

Jason: *writes weak*

Freddy: Predictable.

Jason: *Puny*

Freddy: Alright- *getting up, making the guards rush to block him again*

💤: ... are you trying to start the fight early??

🏒: I wanna go home.

.

Reporter: Oh, we are close to the stage here. And how are you two betting for this fight??

🏒: Jason, of course! I think he's gonna turn fedora boy into a Pancake 😁

Reporter: He is undoubtedly the favourite here tonight. Are you betting the same?

💤: Oh, uh, I'm betting-

Freddy: *Says something mean and terrible*

💤: ... Yeah the same. Go Jason! Poor pancake.

🏒, after the reporter leaves: ... You liar~

💤: The people don't need to know how bad my allegiances are.

[calmcoldevening]

Can i request slashers x male!reader who really obsessed with them? Not in a scary yandere way more in a he's constantly talking about how much he loves them and he's a blushing mess whenever they're there and like he practically deactivates when they're gone. He makes it his entire personality y'know? Sorry if this doesn't make any sense lol 🫠 thank you!

(⁠っ⁠.⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)⁠っ Hugs! ♡⁠

Slashers x obsessed!male!reader

Michael Myers

• At first, Michael was a little annoyed at how clingy you could be towards him. Michael is basically not a relationship person, it's quite difficult for him to open up to a person or let someone come to him. But you seemed different to him, special.

• It took a while before Michael fully accepted you as his boyfriend and your clinginess. If it annoyed him at first, it has now become a routine. It annoyed Michael when he didn't get your attention.

• When you were very busy with work and, purely due to lack of time, you did not pay the usual amount of attention to Michael, he began to get angry. You were sitting at your computer and working when Michael came up behind you. He knelt down and wrapped his arms around your waist, squeezing tightly. God, that puppy missed you.

• He needs time to accept the fact that sometimes you need to work, and after that you can pay attention to him. Michael was jealous of your job.

• After that, he usually went to work for a long time to relieve stress. When he returned home, he found you crying on the bed in the bedroom. Michael climbed into bed behind you, wrapping his arm around your waist. You turned to face him in surprise. Matted hair, tear-stained eyes and swollen lips. Michael's heart fluttered at the sight of you in such a state, but after that, this slight pride was replaced by an unusual pain for him. He didn't want to bring you to this.

• Michael lifts the edge of his mask, exposing his chin with light stubble, and leans towards you. His dry lips touch yours in a sweet, gentle kiss. His actions are still inept, but filled with feelings, a slight longing. He pulls away after a couple of minutes, his hand on your cheek gently stroking your skin. "Mine. My boy. Only mine."

•Over time, Michael realizes that his presence directly affects your emotional state. This subconsciously pleases him. That's why he decides to provide some kind of emotional support and attention towards you, he just doesn't like to see tears on your face. If someone makes you cry, Michael will personally strangle them with his own hands.

Jason Voorhees

• Jason loves you completely and completely, so he doesn't really care about your behavior as long as you love him back.

• He likes to see your blushing face. If he says anything to you in sign language, you immediately blush. Jason specially taught you simple phrases like "I love you" or "You're my beautiful boy" so that you can see your cute blushing cheeks more often.

• Jason likes the fact that you love him and worry about him, but sometimes it bothers him. In those moments when he should be hunting victims. You either follow their footsteps, footprints, so that no creature harms your boyfriend, or you sit at home and feel sad because he's gone. Jason doesn't want you to get hurt, but he doesn't want you to be sad either.

• Over time, you will have a lot of plush toys so that you can hug them when Jason is not at home. Surprisingly, the toys smell like his scent. It calms you down.

• Jason loves hugging, so in his free time he will give you as much attention as you need. He will hold you tightly in his arms, stroking your back, and humming some soothing song. He likes to take care of you when you're depressed, so he knows for sure that you need him.

Bubba Sawyer

• Bubba really liked that you were his boyfriend. At first, he was very shy and insecure about himself, especially about his body and mask, after all, he didn't have the sweetest life. But with your appearance, it's like new colors have appeared in his life. You loved him, you took care of him, Bubba was just happy.

• There were days when he stayed in the basement for a long time to butcher the victims. At such moments, you would lock yourself in your room and be sad. Bubba would find you later on the bed, his heart aching. All evening and all night after that, Bubba didn't leave your side and tried to make amends. He will hug you, kiss you and squeeze you in his arms.

• He loves those sweet moments when you try to protect him or warn him about a possible victim strike. You're so caring. One of your passionate and loving looks makes Bubba's face turn red like a scarlet rose, and her heart starts beating wildly in her chest.

• He absolutely gives you flowers. Bubba has no experience of relationships with anyone, but it seems to him that flowers can always cheer up. They are so beautiful, besides, this flower highlights your charming eyes.

• Bubba is very proud to be called your boyfriend, he always tries to hold your hand when you are together. He loves to put you on his lap. And he also likes it when you hug him and he can nuzzle your chest. You smell so good, your scent calms him down.

• Sometimes Bubba has sad thoughts that you might leave him for someone better, but you always prove the opposite to him. Bubba's heart feels so good. You're his favorite boy.

Bo Sinclair

• This gorgeous man is extremely glad that you are obsessed with him. The truth is, he's obsessed with you too. He likes everything about you, your face, your body, your voice.

• Extremely jealous. Even if you tell him a million times that you only need him and you can't see your life without him, he's still jealous of you. Bo is really afraid that a handsome man like you will be taken away from him. But you're just his boy, right?

• He's flattered that sometimes you act like a devoted puppy around him, so cute. He can feel the tension growing in the air. At such moments, he can pin you to any nearby surface, squeezing your ass with his hands and kissing you passionately. His every action is filled with burning emotions and desire.

• Bo is extremely narcissistic, so he can deliberately lead you to jealousy. Did you see him chatting with that power girl at the gas station? Come on, it's not true. Bo watches with a grin as you frown with reddened ears. He likes to see you so possessive. He wraps his arm around your waist and showers kisses on your neck. "Silly, I only need you."

• If he does not receive proper attention from you (for example, you are very busy working or helping his brothers), he feels strangely incomplete, an unpleasant longing corrodes his heart. He would even be ready to go to you with something and drag you into your bedroom, forcing you to think only of him, but his pride simply does not allow him to do this. Bo doesn't want you to think that he's addicted to you too. You're his personal drug.

Brahms Heelshire

• Brahms is crazy about your attention. He loves hugging, kissing you and he just needs you so much.

• Calls you Daddy. With his low, husky voice, it sounds damn hot, which gives you goosebumps. He gently takes your hands and interlaces your fingers. "Night kiss?" He mumbles, and you can see the gleam of pleasure in his eyes on the other side of the mask.

• Brahms is a very clingy boy, so he likes that you spend so much time with him. Hug him, kiss him, touch him, just don't leave. He loves it when you cook for him and basically take care of him.

• But he is sad from his tears, so he tries not to make you sad for nothing. He's a good boy. Your good boy.

• He is a very loyal and obedient partner, he will do whatever you tell him to do. But he's going to get a reward for it, right? Brahms likes to belong to you, he feels needed and loved. His favorite activity is when you leave bright red hickeys on his neck as a sign that he belongs to you

[loveandmurders]

Can you do slashers meet s/o where they reveal themselves as the grim reaper with a scythe or maybe a whip?

Hi there, can't believe you've had to wait for years before getting this request done, but here you are! Hope you'll enjoy <3

A TOY FOR DEATH (Death!reader x Tiffany Valentine / Michael Myers / Jason Voorhees)

Reader is a divinity and doesn't have any gender

Warnings: no proof reading, mentions of violence, blood, death (obviously), dom!reader (no sex, but in the way they treat the slashers), reader sees the world as their own personnal playground,

(The Jason one is my fav one)

Tiffany Valentine

The first time you met Tiffany, it was after she summoned you. 

She was playing with a man in her trailer before sacrificing him to the divinity of Death.

She was bored and she had always been obsessed with you. Death was the most exciting part of life, she thought. And she would be more than happy to be your servant.

To her disappointment, you didn’t appear right away and she thought the spell had failed. Or maybe you weren’t interested in answering her call, which she could understand. She was pretty upset about it though, but she got to kill a guy so it was already that. To appease herself, she decided to take a bath. You watched her, without her knowing even if she could tell that eyes were on her.

You continued to observe her for a little while, and you had to admit you enjoyed her style and her way of life. She would make the perfect partner, as you had been quite lonely lately.

After a week, you knocked at her door in a human appearance. You smiled at her, sharp teeth greeting her.

She had no idea who you or what you were, but you were definitely the hottest thing she ever witnessed. She didn’t ask question as she let you enter her home, eyeing you with great interest.

“You called me” you finally said as you sat on her comfy bed “And here I am”

She didn’t understand at first. “I’d remember calling you, sweetface. I never forget pretty things like you” she purred, quietly grabbing a knife on her table, just in case things turned out bad for her; it wouldn’t be the first time.

You chuckled as you noticed her movement. “Would you try to hurt Death, woman?” you hummed as you got up and with a disdainful gesture of your hand, the weapon flew away from her grasp

She gasped as her eyes widened. She quickly knelt in front of you as you turned into your Death appearance, a dark skeleton holding a scythe. 

She didn’t dare to look up at you so you grabbed her chin in your cold hand. You smiled at her.

“You’re perfect, pet. Now let’s have some fun together. I saw the way you killed the sacrifice you made for me. I enjoyed the view. Keep going that way and I promise you I’ll treat you well” you hummed.

You helped her on her feet “And as you first reward…” you trailed off before smashing your lips against hers. She loudly moan into the kiss as she pressed yourself against you.

Being the Reaper’s lover seemed like quite a happy ending to her.

Michael Myers

Since Michael was a child, you had kept an eye on him. You couldn’t really explain why, but you had felt he was different. You had felt the power you could have on him. You had felt the power he wanted you to have on him.

You might even have been a nasty little voice inside his head, pushing him to kill his family just for the sake of it. His family had been on your list for quite a long time, and you had found it funny that they should die from his hands instead of a road accident like it was originally planned.

And because you spent years speaking to him, when no one would, you soon became the only thing he listened to. He knew your voice by heart, he knew your wishes like his own, he knew how you enjoyed him when he was an emotionless killer. It was all that mattered to him.

When he was hanging his victims for them to be part of the decor, it was to amuse you, which it always did.

A lot of people wondered how the Shape never died, but it was quite simple: he was your favourite human so you weren’t going to let him disappear from Earth that easily.

Sometimes, when he was drugged by the doctors or when he was full of adrenaline after a killing spree, you would appear to him, in the darkness of the room. He always saw you with your scythe, like a dangerous shadow ready to strike.

A part of himself wondered if you were real, but really he didn’t care, he just wanted to please you like he used to want to please his mother.

You made him hate his baby sister, you made him hate the world, you made him your messenger. And in exchange, you never left his side. 

You knew he didn’t love you, but you didn’t either. He was your toy, and you were his divinity. Nothing was too good for you, and he would be more than happy to bring chaos upon earth just to hear your laugher resonating inside his head one more time.

Without you, he would have let the doctors lobotomize him, but how could he when his purpose was to be yours? He also knew you wouldn’t have let them destroy him; you let the pain touch him only for him to be an even more dangerous beast.

Your beast.

Jason Voorhees

Once a century, you were deciding to create yourself a lover among the humans. You enjoy your loneliness, but once in a while, you needed the warm touch of someone alive or mostly alive. You also needed someone to see you, truly see you, without running away from you or without begging you to take their life away.

You couldn’t really explain why you chose Jason, but you did as if it was the most obvious decision you ever took.

You helped his mother bring him back, after she summoned you. You made her child, your own. You made out of him your new darling. He was ugly, he was decaying, he was insane and very much aware of what he was. 

He was perfect to you.

He was your little zombie, your little killer, your little freak.

He couldn’t talk anymore, but you could read his mind that was an utter mess, not that you cared. You enjoyed messy things.

What you loved the most about him was the rage swirling inside of him. It wasn’t the anger of a crazy man; it was the most delicious rage you could taste: it was the rage of a little boy who got bullied and killed and who was now strong enough to destroy everyone.

The rage built from stolen innocence was your favourite thing. Vengeance had a taste like nothing else. It was making you so powerful, so happy, so merciless.

Watching Jason killing people was your favourite show and you made sure to always be there when new tourists were waking him up from his slumber. You might even whisper to some of them to go to Crystal Lake, so your messenger could take care of them.

At the end of the night, once everyone was dead, Jason was certain he would find you in his room, waiting for him with a kiss. His wounds would disappear and for an instant he could forget about everything else.

Death was his life and he was grateful you took such good care of him, even if he knew that one day you would allow him to rest, once you would grow bored of him. And he was okay with that, eager to soon join his mother in Hell.

He had a special place in Hell, as a prolific killer and your lover.

[morimemichael]

Not Allowed

Dbd!Myers x f!Reader

Reader it’s new to the realm, she gets a good first impression on everyone; killer and survivor. Tho there’s certain someone who seams to became too obsessed with her. She doesn’t get it, she thinks this killer hates her with all their guts. Sooner than later she finds that some interactions and relationships are not allowed in the realm.

WG: Some angst and cursing Michael actually talks but this is not actually a warning lol mentions of death, blood and gore. Michael and Ghostface have a bromance cause deep down they are besties. Dbd!Michael it’s based on RZ! Michael here. Use if y/n twice on the entire fic. Ghostface removes his mask. Michael removes his mask. Big old Pewpaw Kazan Yamaoka, aka, the ink is a great hugger. Happy ending(?)

You were brand new to the realm, like a new born baby. You didn’t understand what was going on, one night you went to bed and the next thing you know it’s the uncomfortable feeling of grass and wood sticks on your back. This was beyond clear that it wasn’t your bed.

You woke up scared as hell in an unknown forest to you, it’s was late at night you could tell and you didn’t met a single soul this far. All of that was vanished when the sound of what it seemed a camp fire stroked your ears, and for your surprise it wasn’t just a camp fire you could distinguish the sound of human voices too. It didn’t seem too far from were you currently were. So you walked a little faster while covering your chest with your own arms in a sutil attempt to combat the cold weather.

You stepped closer to the people in the camp fire to ask for help and maybe an answer to what was going on here. As you got closer could see a bunch of girls and a few boys. One of the girls had red hair and running clothes, the Oder one had short black hair, she was wearing glasses, the other one had also shirt hair, she was wearing a black and red shirt and loosen pants, on the other side; one of the boys was tall with very short black hair and when you herd him taking he had a british accent, the other boy had also black hair but it reached the mid of his face.

“Uhm, excuse me?” You said. Your voice low but clear. The red hair girl turned around to look at you. Suddenly everyone stopped talking.

“Oh my god…” The red hair girl stated. “Guys…I think we have a new partner!” She continued.

Everyone smiled at you and presented themselves. It turned out the red hair girl’s name was Meg Thomas, the girl with the glasses was Claudette Morel, the other girl was Nea Karlson, the British guy was David King and the other guy was Jake Park.

“Did you just arrived?” Claudette asked.

“Yeah…I don’t know where I am.” You stated.

“What’s your name girl?” Meg asked.

“Where are you from?” Another question, this time Jake.

“She’s gonna need a lot of help.” You herd David talking.

“Guys, why don’t we just let her sit with us and let her talk?” Nea said. It was the first time she talked.

You smiled for the first time.

You sat next to Meg and Nea and proceeded to tell every detail about you, your name, your age, where were you from. You told them that last night you had a fight with your parents and when you went to sleep you woke up here.

“We get you, we really do.” Jake spoke.

Everyone told you their personal story. How they end up here, but most important of all they told you what was going on in this place.

“There’s uhm…there’s something that we call the entity, that rules all of this place. She can do what she pleases with us and with everyone.” Nea talked looking at you.

“To survive and to keep every thing, no matter how small it might be, here with us, like some food and water, we have to go through trials.” Jake explained.

“Trials?” You asked confused.

“Yeah, we must repair five generators to open the exit gates.” Meg continued.

“That’s it? Just five generators? It’s a piece of cake…” you laughed.

“I wouldn’t say that if i were you…” David looked at you.

“Why not?” You talked back.

David sight, then he explained the most difficult part.

“We must face a killer that will be with us in the same place.”

“WHAT!? A real killer? Like from slasher movies?” You stated.

“Yes, a real killer.” David stated.

“N-no, no, I wanna go home, please!” You yell at the sky hopping this entity would hear you and somehow pity you.

Everyone looked at you with sad eyes, they knew you weren’t going home anytime sooner.

“Wish we could do something about it, I’m so sorry.” Jake spoke again after a long time.

You moved your head to the sides and looked down, a long sigh scapes your mouth. “Shit…” that’s all that came from you. Everyone remained silent for a while until you spoke again.

“So, how this trial thing works?”

“Well, the entity select some of us for the trial, four survivors to be exact. To help you in the trial you can carrie an object with you, this objects being a toolbox or a flashlight or a med kit and others. Every object has their own use, the toolbox can be use on the generators or to sabotage the hooks the killer use to hook us, by the way; the killer’s main goal is to hook us all in those hooks, flashlights are meant to blind the killer and save your teammates that se going to get hook, and last but not least the med kit as its name suggests can be use to heal yourself or your teammates. Also when you get hook-“ Claudette was interrupted by survivors who just came back from a trial. Four survivors emerged from the dar fog of this place.

“Gosh, that trial was so easy, I need something more challenging!” A young girl with blonde hair spoke.

“Hey Laurie, who was the killer this time?” David asked her.

Laurie? Like the same Laurie from the Halloween movies? You thought to yourself. The intrigue of knowing if you were right was eating your brain, you know you wouldn’t last any longer so you had to ask her.

“The trickster.” This girl said looking at David.

“Uhm excuse me, Laurie? Like Laurie Strode form the Halloween movies?” You finally asked her.

“Yes! I’m her. You must be new right?” She smiled back at you.

“Yes, in fact I got here a few moments ago.” You then proceed to present yourself.

“So nice to meet you! I know we’re gonna be good friends, watcha say new girl?” Laurie had a content face. New girl huh? You liked the new nickname.

“I hope so! By the way I loved that nickname!” Laurie smiled back at your words.

Nea joined your conversation with Laurie explaining further more how the trials work.

“Continuing with the trials, we’re gonna spawn in a map. In this map you will find certain constructions you can use to loop the killer, evade them or confuse them.

“Ok.” You listen very carefully to what Nea said.

Sooner than later you realize that some of the survivors that came with Laurie were from the Resident Evil game franchise. Leon and Jill were here, you wondered if others form the same games were too. You smiled when you saw Chris and Claire in this place too. You presented yourself like you did with everyone else and they seemed to like you as much as the rest did.

“We should tell you that some survivors came along with their respective killers, generally they are related to them. For example, Leon and me came along with Nemesis.” Jill explained.

“So…if you guys came along with Nemesis that means you Laurie came along with M-“

“Yes, I came along with Michael Myers.” She finished the sentence for you. The second you hear that afirmation you knew you no longer wanted to get back home.

“Gosh that’s awesome! I love the Halloween movies, as much as the Resident Evil games or the Scream movies. I love Halloween season so much, and Halloween loves me.” You gave the guys a mischievous smile.

“That’s great! But do let me tell you that most of the killers aren’t nice as us survivors. Some of them lack empathy and act rude. Tho I have to say some killers are nice sometimes.” Leon’s voice was calm but it sounded firm.

“I see, so uhm…Michael?” Your question was meant to find out how he acts in this place.

“Well, Michael has his “I think I could spare you” moments sometimes, but most of the time he just hooks us…he’s very accurate I would say.” Laurie didn’t have anything left to say about Michael.

You couldn’t help but feel a mix of disappointment and excitement, you wanted to face him so bad by now. Eventually the time for your first trial came, thankfully you weren’t alone, Laurie got picked too. You asume that the most optimal object to take with yourself for your first trial was med kit.

Soon the trial started and you couldn’t believe your eyes when you saw that the killer you were going against was none other than Michael Myers himself. You were over excited, you wanted to say hi, let him know how much you liked his movies. You wander how he was going to act this time, you assumed since you were new maybe he could spare you. He was lurking near the generator you were currently working on, unaware you were conscious he was there.

Something inside you made you leave the generator and get closer to Michael. You could see he was stalking Jill, who was also picked with you, David was here too, somewhere on the map. You got closer and closer to Michael until you were near his back. The sound of a wood stick breaking under your feet gave you away. He stopped on his track and tilted his head to the left making you know he heard you. Your heart was ricing at this point. He turned around completely to face you. You could hear him breathing behind his mask. His blueish eyes analyzing you. The leafs under his feet made a cracking noise as he slowly walked towards you. Walking in circles around you he kept looking you up and down. Something form you caught his attention, maybe you reminded him form someone, he didn’t know. One thing was certain, besides looking you he was also stalking you. He made a final step in front of you, this time he was very near you. You instantly thought it was your end when he lifted his kitchen knife at you. You closed your eyes ready to get hit and downed, but the empty feeling of nothing tearing your flesh apart made you open your eyes. Yes, he was still there but his didn’t made a single move against you, he didn’t even tried to down you.

“I-i uhm know you! I love your movies.” You didn’t know why you said that. You felt so stupid. He didn’t answer of course he just tilted his head to the left.

He started moving forward through the map that’s stroke you late it was Haddonfield. You were following him, you didn’t fully understand why he didn’t try to kill you or stab you. Asking him questions didn’t seemed a bad idea to you tho. “So, how you end up here?” And another one “How long have you been here?” And another “Why don’t you talk?”, “Don’t you miss your home?”, “I told you i love your movies right? I think i did..” You even told him your name and your age and the place you came form, even how you end up here. But he never answered, all he did was stopping whenever you asked something and turn around to look at you.

Later than sooner you realize he was heading toward Laurie, who happened to see all the interactions between Michael and you.

“New girl? What are you doing?! RUN!” She screamed at you. She stepped forward to grab your hand, and just as she saw Michael was going for you she stepped in the middle of you to. Michael grabbed her instead. He grabbed Laurie by the throat and buried the long kitchen knife in her abdomen.

“OH MY GOD LAURIE!” You scream in panic. The young blond girl struggled against Michael who buried the knife deeper fully killing her.

“LEAVE HER ALONE PLEASE, DON’T HURT HER!” Blood leaving Laurie’s body as he throws her on the street asphalt. He lowered his knife for a second and walked to your side, he looked again at you, this time inches away from your face. You closed your eyes waiting for your inevitably fate, which it never came. He lifted his knife again and went for the rest of the survivors, Jill and you were left until it was only you.

“Shit…” you muttered to yourself. You were just meters away from Michael who was facing back at you and still had his knife up.

You heard a little noice of something opening near you, but Michel herd it too. This time walking towards you, ready to curse him you saw how he walked pass you a few meters away and turned to look at you again, this time putting his knife down. He look down at what it seemed to you like a little door on the street, and look back up at you. You didn’t understand. You catch up with him and looked him dead in his dark eyes.

“Fuck..you..and this place and your stupid movies!!” He gestured down to the little gate again.

“I don’t get it!! I don’t know what it means…freak.” You were really starting to hate him, or you were just scared. Claudette didn’t finish to tell you that this things happen frequently. Deaths happen frequently, but you just didn’t know it. Michael gestured one last time to the little door and then looked up at you.

“FUCK! I don’t want it! Screw you bastard!” You push him a little bit, you knew this time you went too far when he grabbed you by your throat and push you against the nearest parked car. You tried your best to hit him hard, unfortunately he didn’t even react.

“I-i can’t…can’t breath Mich-michael…” You felt your air leaving your lungs. He gave you his signature look and move his knife closer to you. Then you finally felt it. Cold, it sting like, you finally felt the pain. Then all over again, and again, and again. He stabbed you, more than once. He wasn’t stabbing vital points, he was going slow.

“Please…” You pleaded, in vain, cause he didn’t stop. Instead he got out all the knife and finally stabbed you deeper. Little pain sounds scaped your mouth, and for the first time on this place you cried. Then all turned black. Just like that you were gone.

Michael put your body down, surprisingly with gentle moves. He kept looking at your dead body noticing what was left of your tears. He wasn’t going to kill you. When he saw you for the first time moments ago something woke up in him, he didn’t know what it was. You intrigued him in a way nothing ever did before. He wasn’t bother by your questions, the first time he looked at you was because he didn’t know what to do, he analyzed your gestures your face, your eyes...the other times he stopped when you asked him a question was on purpose, he wanted to look at your precios eyes just to be sure he wasn’t making it all up. He didn’t want to kill you, but…why did you act like that? He wanted you to leave, damn he even offered you the hatch. The second those hurting words left your mouth he felt attacked. He was trying to be nice, to do something nice…why couldn’t you be nice to him too? He was hurt, you caught his attention, but you hurt him. Why? You even said you loved his movies, why were you being so rude to him? He let his knife fell to the street, looking down he brought one hand to his masked face and one single scream was heard on Haddonfield that night. He was the only one left there.

The feeling of your death still lingered on your body the first time you came back to the camp fire. Laurie, Jill and David were already there due to that they have been killed earlier before you. You couldn’t help but feel awful.

“He…killed…he killed us. Like we were nothing.” You sounded so disgusted.

“Yeah new girl…most of the time it is like this. We forgot to tell you that killers hook survivors to sacrifice them to the entity. Or sometimes they can kill us with their own hand…like Michael did.” Laurie explained. You were so relieved to know that even if you or anyone gets killed they came back.

“I tried to be nice…i-i really did. I even want sure if he was going to kill me, but then he got you Laurie…” You continued.

“I saw all of it. And it was rare! He never acted like that with new survivors.” Laurie exclaime surprised.

“What you mean?” You replied back.

“He wasn’t just stalking you…he seemed to be analyzing you as well…who knows for what or why?” Laurie confirmed.

“Well that didn’t go well did it? I think he hates me…”

“I think he saw something in you. He likes you…” Laurie’s word were spoken so low you didn’t hear her, tho the rest of the survivors did, and they shared the same theory. Because killers can be nice sometimes, you heard killers like Ghostface, or Deathslinger, or even Oni had a good side….but Michael? He was known to be nice just three or four times since he got in the realm. It was unusual his behavior. And they know it, specially Laurie who came with him and Danny the Ghostface who seemed to grow closer to Michael over the years.

On the other hand, in the distant across the camp fire were the killers. They were all in the same place, hanging and resting like survivors did. It existed a physical barrier that separated the camp fire form the killers. Both survivor and killer could get near this barrier but couldn’t cross it. Survivors could meet the killers on trials or if the decided to go to certain map or place. Once there they could interact. But some interactions were not allowed. It’s not like something bad would happen to the survivor or the killer, it was the fact that the entity didn’t want that in her realm. It was known that when a killer didn’t do well in the trial, the entity would punish them, maybe she would make them see something they fear or hurt them the most, something about their past maybe. This only happens when the entity consideres it necessary.

Danny, Kazan, Caleb and Herman were watching the trial. They were also surprised Michael tried to spare the new girl. Of course the also saw how you rejected the offer. Michael came back to the other side of the camp fire with the rest of the killers, head pointing down.

“Hey Mike, you’re okay?” Danny asked him, his vice distant due to the ghost face mask. Michael didn’t answer he just looked at him. It’s not that they didn’t hear him talking tho, this time he just chose to remain silent and walk away. Danny was going to follow him but Caleb stopped him.

“Leave him be, give him some space…” Danny looked at him, then his head turned to look at Michael walking away. His eyes looked down behind his mask. He then decided to walk away too.

“Rejection can hurt.” Kazan said. His English still had a fainted Japanese accent.

“Sure does.” Herman added.

Michael made sure there was nobody with him. Once he realized he was all alone, his hands reached the bottom of his mask and pulled it up, reveling his face. Long blond and a little dirty hair covered part of his face. He couldn’t stop thinking about you. Your eyes, the way you walked with him while asking questions, your hair, your face…then he remembered those harsh words leaving your mouth. He wanted to understand, he needed to understand so bad why, why did you do that? He was trying to be nice, he usually isn’t. He knows he’s mean, selfish, he has a dark twisted heart, if he even had one. He find himself surprised by the choice of letting you go, to leave through the hatch. He lives for the hunt, the cat and mouse play, the adrenaline he feels when he kills. He’s no good and he knows it very well. On the other hand he felt hurt at your words…he felt…something was wrong with him, it must be right? He never experienced anything let along feelings. So he got to the conclusion that he was just offended by some words. You had offended him, yet here he is, thinking non stop of you.

Back to the others, Caleb was taking with Kazan.

“I think…I think he either likes her or she became his obsession. I mean, she seems like a nice girl, we didn’t cross paths yet. He’s the first one she goes against.” Said Caleb.

“Dark, twisted, small and very broken, but he has it.” Kazan abruptly said. Caleb wasn’t following.

“Excuse me?

“Soul.” Kazan explained. “His soul is dark, twisted, small and very broken, but he has one.” He finished. Caleb rises an eyebrow at Kazans words as to say he is not understanding him.

“Souls, I can see. Souls, I can sense.” Kazan said.

“It’s that so? How’s mine then?” Caleb teased.

“Baka…” It wasn’t rare at all for the Oni to speak Japanese now and then, he just told Caleb he’s a moron.

“Oh come on Kazan! You know my Japanese it’s not fresh!” Caleb protested then saw Kazan walking away.

Days turned into weeks in the realm and you were getting better at trials and so far killer you face killer you got to like you, not as much as Michael apparently. The things with him didn’t change unfortunately. Whenever you two go against each other he tries to give you hatch even if he didn’t sacrifice anyone. All the words that left your mouth were hate words and curse words. You decided if he was going to hate you you will hate him back. Tho deep down you didn’t like that idea. Now and then you catch yourself waking pass the limit of the barrier, just in case you see him. At this point it was like a dynamic. You would face him in a trial, get at his nerves, sometimes he would try to give the hatch anyway but you always complain. And that ends in painful death. You felt like he kills you slower than the rest on purpose. He won’t admit that he also walks pass the limit of the barrier, but in his case he does see you, he sees everything thing you say or do. Of course he does this intentionally. He doesn’t know why he keeps torturing you like he does, or even why he keeps torturing himself watching you knowing nothing will ever happen. Maybe all he wants is to make you hurt, because that way he gets to hear you begging him and saying his name so low.

Michael…please. Stop it.

A soft beg said in a soft voice. All you ever mean by this is for him to stop killing you like he does. He gets you sacrificed sometimes, but you rather get sacrificed a million times than to feel the cold of his kitchen knife stabbing you deep in your guts in the most slow way possible.

By now, you have met all the survivors and went against every killer. But you were closer to Laurie, Nea, Jill, Leon, Yun Jin, Feng, Yui, Oni, Ghostface, the Deathslinger, the Spirit and Wesker. It’s not like you didn’t like the rest of killers and survivors, you just were closer with some. You would often speak with Wesker to hear about genetic stuff, and then you would tease him about some random word you thought it was funny. He would look at you and say something like:

“Hey don’t push me new girl, you will not want me to go Michael!” He laughed. His sense of humor was evident not shared with yours.

“That was not funny Albert.” You said, he looked down.

“I apologize.”

“Rude..” You smiled when you heard Kazan saying that when Albert left.

This far you couldn’t really complain about your staying here. You wish things with Michael were different tho. There was this time when you faced The Doctor, and you were carrying a flashlight, you were getting good at flashlight saves, everything was laugh and fun. You blind him several times, and save your teammates a couple of other time too.

“Hey stop it with the flashlight, new girl! I can call you new girl too right?” Herman asked, annoyed but with a yet friendly tone. In response you pointed the flashlight to his face and granted permission to call you bay your nickname.

“Come on!!! Stop it! I’m warning ya!” He yeld.

“Or what doc?” You really weren’t taking him seriously. Next thing you know is you’re hooked then unhooked, and hooked again. The second time one of your teammates unhooked you, Herman tunneled you and killed you with his own hands.

When you came back to the camp fire you were laughing like a maniac. You really had a good time, not fully caring if you got tunneled or not. Michael, on the other hand, didn’t like that. Not.a.single.bit.

What happened next? The next trial you went on, you and Feng were the only ones left, and guess what? Your were going against Michael, again. This time was different, he actually down you with normal hits and hooked you, it was your first hook when Feng tried to rescue you. It’s not necessary to say Michael grabbed her before she could unhook you. He grabbed poorFeng by the neck and then looked at you, then back at Feng, she knew what was coming. He killed her with his own hand many times before, she didn’t mind at this point. But you? Oh boy you did care…

“Michael…” You say terrified. He tilted his head, he didn’t say a single word but you knew he meant to say “what?” He lift her from the ground and started to get his knife out.

“No please…Michael,” You knew he saw that trial with Herman, you were having fun with the flashlight, then you got tunneled, but you didn’t care, why did he? You could tell it was some type of pay back on Herman, because Feng was his survivor. But..you weren’t his…

Of course Michael was getting his pay back, he just wasn’t going to admit it to you. Pay back exactly for what? For the tunneling? Or maybe was cause he saw you laughing and having fun with Herman instead of him. He thinks he deserves that from you too. Or maybe not, by the way he kept killing you he didn’t doubt why you hated him so much. He just didn’t know what to do. Deep down he must feel that he has to hurt you bad because you hurted him, you kind of rejected him, and one part of him resented you for that. But his other part knows that giving you the worst death of the trial was the only way to get you to talk nicely to him…the way you beg…maybe he wanted so bad to hear you beg cause he couldn’t let himself beg you for attention, for that thing he felt only wfor his mother and his little baby sister, a little bit of love.

Him? Begging? Michael Myers never begged. Victims beg him for mercy, beg him to spare them. He wouldn’t allowed to do that himself.

“Please!!! PLEASE!! LET HER GO!” He didn’t listen any of your words, and the tip of his knife threatened to go deeper into Feng’s belly. You didn’t know what else to do, what else could you say.

“I’m sorry Michael! I’m so sorry, it’s my fault!” The desperate plea for Michael to stop for a second. He knew you didn’t mean to apologize for how you been treating each other. You meant that Feng death was your fault. He turned to look at you. For a second you thought you got it, he would stop. Reality hitter you like a truck when you heard Feng’s desperate cries of pain.

“NOO! PLEASE! FENG!” You cried and sobbed hard. “I’m so sorry Feng.” You apologized to your already dead friend laying on the cold snow of Ormond.

“Why…” Tears falling from your eyes like waterfalls. “Why are you doing this to me? Why I’m not even allowed to have friends…I need them Michael…” you continued.

He remained silent.

“I fucking hate you…your making it impossible for me to be here!” You reclaim.

Imposible for her? He thought. You were the one who put his world and all he knew this entire time upside down. If your harsh words hurt him, this hurt him even more. All of a sudden he got closer to you, and closer….to the point you two were face to face. He hit you with his knife while you were hooked. It was already too late when he noticed that the sharp blade of his knife had cut deep on your throat.

Your face of sudden realization he sliced your throat and your were bleeding out was too much for him. He closes his eyes every time he kills you, but this was too much. This felt way more painful that his normal killing mode. Tears running down your face as you tried to cover your bloody throat in pain. Not being able to tolerate seeing you die like this in so, so much pain, Michael left. He left you there alone to die in the cold.

The trial ended and Michael came back before you, stepping into the other side of the camp fire with the rest of the killers, he was met with Danny, Kazan and Herman.

“Bro…was cutting her throat open really necessary there?” Danny asked him, not really judging him, cause after all you got sacrificed and that what counted. Michael leaned back against the nearest tree there. He looked at Danny, and for the first time since he met you he decided that talking wasn’t going to hurt him that bad.

“No it wasn’t. I don’t know why I did that.” He answered Danny’s question.

Herman decided to join the conversation too.

“Are you okay Michael?” Herman asked. Michael didn’t reply what he expected. He looked at Herman, and for one second he felt ashamed of what he did to Feng Ming, but specifically why he did it. And then something he never thought he would say.

“I’m sorry about Feng Ming.” Herman opened his eyes more…if that was even possible.

Michael gathered himself from the tree and walk away. Kazan made a gesture to Danny. Follow him, that’s what he was tending to say. Needless to say Danny got the hint almost immediately. Danny stood up and quickly tried to put up with Michael.

On the camp fire side, desperate cries and tears came down your face. It turns out that, since Michael cutted your throat while you were still on hooked, when you came back you found out by Laurie’s words that a thin but long scar adorned you neck. You couldn’t believe it. You loved using necklaces and stuff, but now? You wouldn’t be able to use one without the scar sticked to your neck like a bad tattoo.

“I can’t believe this…” You cried. You were so weak that Laurie was holding you by your left arm as Rebecca told you to go to the medical support room, which it was only another part of the camp fire, but with the few things Rebecca could gathered around to help, heal and examine other’s wounds.

“It’s ok girl…we got you.” Laurie reaffirmed. You wouldn’t stop crying. Rebecca was walking in front of you, and Laurie still by your side. You heard a distant “Michael wait!” You recognized that voice immediately.

Ghostface…Danny. You thought. You knew He was close with Michael so you figured out he must be with him.

If I see him I’ll kill him. You thought to yourself. Of course you knew the odds of actually killing a Killer were none, %0. But this time Michael has gone too far and now all you wanna do is tell him how bad he has hurt you. Was he even going to react at your words? Probably not. You turn to look at your left were the barrier was, and you were right. Ghostface was trying to keep up the pace walking Michael had. Laurie seemed to notice you notice Michael on the other side, and gesture to Rebecca to stay with you for a moment.

“Hey, Michael…HEY!” She spoke caughting his attention. Michael stopped and turned to look at Laurie as she got closer and closer to the barrier.

“What’s your deal with her?! You went too far this time! She came back crying and sobbing like an animal!” Michael didn’t react to her words, which only made you angrier. You stepped closer to the barrier as well next to Laurie, this time you were beyond hurt.

“Why…? Why you hate me su much?!” That’s all you could ask.

Michael looked at you but to he was showing no emotions, and you were really starting to suspect it was not due to his mask, you truly believed he hates you for something you couldn’t completely understand.

“You know what? Fuck it I’m done trying to talk to you and to ask-no, beg you to speak back to me and tell me what I did wrong…” tears running down your face.

Michael saw you crying, leaning against Laurie for help. The effort you did in your last trial with him was too much to handle for your little frame. Besides, the feeling of getting your throat cut open was awful. His eyes looked down behind his mask, he couldn’t stand seeing you like this. The sound of your cries and sobbing were tearing through his chest, straight to his heart, if he even had one. He didn’t put a name to what he was feeling and experience when you were with him or near him, all he knew was death, blood and pain. He couldn’t afford to feel anything else…right? With that in mind he turned around and walk away silently.

“Yeah, walk away…like you always do.” You said in a low tone. Throat still hurting for the previous abused it received. He pretend no to listen to what you say. He couldn’t help but feel how something inside started to break.

Michael wondered if the entity was going to do something about this eventually. Little did he know that in reality, the entity was amazed by you and how you treated Michael the first time you met him. Needless to say, that the entity knew how both of you felt for each other. And the only reason she was going to allow what she was going to do, was because she knew both, you and Michael, would react eventually and arrange the differences between you two.

The entity had a plan.

Michael kept stalking you from the dark the rest of the night, that’s how he found out you wanted a choker to cover up the nasty scar. He wasn’t alone tho, Danny was with him. “Ahh…I really would like a choker.” Those were your exact words.

“You heard that Mike?” Danny asked looking at him, smiling behind his mask. Michael nodded.

“I..want to apologize..for..everything I did to her.” Michael said, looking down, eyes to coward to look at you complaining about the scar, a scar he gave you.

“Hey! Now we’re talking!” Danny’s voice a little bit enthusiastic. “How you plan on doing that? I don’t think by just saying that she will even consider to forgive you man…”

“I’ve got an idea…” Michael looked at Danny, then proceeded to whisper in his covered ear what he was going to do.

“It sounds great Mike! You’ll will need lots of paper and fabric. Maybe your mask supplies might work that thing as well!” Danny said looking at your throat’s scar.

“I’m going to Haddonfield.” And with That Michael made his way to his own home town.

Michael spent all night on Haddonfield working on something to give you as for an apology. On the other hand, you didn’t do much, you didn’t had trials that day, until like 6 o’clock you spent your time talking with Kazan, and Danny.

“I don’t like my scar…”

“Scars are sings of fight, if you survive fights it means your strong, therefor scars shows strength.” Kazan spoke.

“I agree with this big red guy here.” Danny added.

“I guess your right guys.”

Somewhere meters away from you, on the killer side, Evan and Caleb were sharing a interesting conversation. You see, Evan since he’s been here long before most of the killers he can speak with the entity sometimes.

“So…your telling me the entity’s plan is basically hope for the best? There’s no way we can know how he will react to it. He has never been punished before!” Caleb said.

“We gotta trust her plan Caleb.” Evan said, his gaze looking up where the entity is supposed to be.

“I hope she don’t do wrong.”

“She never does, Caleb. She never does.”

Time passed and you keep talking with Kazan and Danny from your side of the camp. Danny telling you something about his camera you didn’t quite catch the meaning. It was so specific and technical you didn’t even try to understand it. Then you asked Kazan to tell you everything he knew about the Samurai. You’ve always loved Japanese culture, you wanted to go someday to japan too.

“I would have loved to travel to Japan…” Your voice flooded with sadness.

“It’s so beautiful…my country…I don’t doubt you would have love it.” Kazan replays.

You were so focused on your conversation with Kazan and Danny that you didn��t notice Michael joining them. When you saw him all the joy on your face instantly disappeared. It’s like you couldn’t had one minute alone, not even a day! Kazan and Danny didn’t understand your sudden change of mood.

“What the hell do you want now?” You said, eyes wouldn’t dare to leave that white mask of his.

Both Kazan and Danny looked at each other, raised their shoulders until they looked behind themselves.

“Guys, can we move somewhere else please? I don’t have time nor the energy to deal with this freak.” You said looking dead to Michael’s eyes. Danny examined Michael for a moment and noticed something in his right hand.

“New girl…” Danny looked at you.

“What??” You already sounded pissed.

“Please, just give him a moment…” He said. It was the first time you heard The Ghostface say “please”, so for the sake of it you listed.

Michael stepped closer to the barrier, Danny and Kazan gave him space so his now was positioned in the middle. He reached his right hand to the edge of the barrier beneath him and tossed something to your side. You looked at it confused.

“I don’t get it, the hell do you want?!” You yeld at him.

Michael looks down at the object then back up at you. He wanted you to grab it. You sigh ruin discomfort as you bent down to grab it. Still didn’t catching what it was. All you knew it was soft to the touch.

“And I’m still don’t getting it, maybe I’m just stupid or perhaps you should fucking talk to me already!!” You were getting angrier every minute.

“I think you should open it..” Kazan has an idea of what could it been, you said earlier that you hated your scar, so he though maybe it was a necklace. You looked at Danny for his opinion too. He just nodded.

“Agh!! The things I do for you guys…” You said, your voice still angry. Michael couldn’t help but to feel bad you wanted to spend time with them but not with him.

Your eyes filled with anger when you saw this thing was a choker, and you didn’t even know why. Deep down you wanted to forgive him, you just couldn’t seem to find a reason.

“Sorry.” A single word scaped Michael’s mouth. It was the first time he ever spoke to you. Yet you felt it wasn’t enough. This wasn’t a worthy apology.

“Sorry? SORRY?! That’s all you could came up with?

“New girl, I think you shou-“ You didn’t let Danny finish.

“Your pathetic! Your fucking pathetic you hear me? I can’t believe I told you I loved your movies. How I regret that, I regret being nice to you..” You were angry as ever.

The bad treat continued, once, twice..you couldn’t count how many bad, nasty and hurting things you said to him.

“Childish!”

“Coward!”

“Fuckin evil!!”

“I hope you die fucking bastard, I want you dead!”

You tossed back the choker to the other side in contempt, and when you finished something scaped your mouth. Something that even in the most agitated of situations you wouldn’t even think of saying.

“Your mom was a fucking whore, a filthy slut. I bet she didn’t even wanted to have you in the first place!! Why don’t you just leave me alone, damn it!” You yelled at him hitting the invisible barrier that separated you from him and your friend killers. You knew thanks to the movie his mom used to be a stripper. His heart skipped a bit when you said that. Now he knew for sure he had a heart.

If he was hurt before now he was torn to pieces. But what torn apart his heart the most was knowing that, despite what you had just said, what he felt for you didn’t change a damn bit. With no more further a do, he proceeded to walk away. Danny followed him as usual, trying to get him to stay.

“Come on Mike! Don’t leave.” He yelled. “You went way too far kid…Kazan, looked at the choker.” He continued, he notice something written inside the choker, you just hadn’t seen it. Kazan took the little fabric from the dirty ground, wipped of the dirt and read it. Danny far gone by now.

“Kazan…? What does it say?” You asked him.

“You made me human…” This words stabbed you right in your chest. You knew very well the pain of getting stabbed, but this? This can’t be compared.

You felt awful. Why did you said that? It’s not like you even meant it. You felt your eyes filling with tears again at what you just said to him. All alone you thought that hurting him back the way he’d hurt you would make you feel better. But it didn’t. It just made you feel worse. Like you had no soul.

“I…I really messed up here, didn’t i? Kazan?” You looked at his red Oni mask.

“I’m afraid you did…” He confessed.

“Oh my god…what did I do?” You tried to see if you could find Michael with your eyes from your side of the camp. What you didn’t know was that the moment Michael tossed you the choker he made the entity put to work her own plan. You could hear a distant voice, again it was Danny.

“Hey, Mike! Hey!! Michael!” Danny exclaimed, yet no answer from Michael. Danny’s exclamations for Michael became more and more audible. Something was wrong, you knew it, you could feel it. You ran in direction of Danny’s voice.

“Dude wake up! Michael!” Danny kept saying. You got there panting and sweating. Kazan followed a little bit after.

“What’s wrong with him?” You asked.

“I don’t know, he was like this when I catch up with him.”

You could see his body was struggling. His left hand holding his knife, knukles white as milk. His breathing could be heard from where you were. He was getting trouble to breathe. Soft pants and groans suddenly left his mouth too. He sounded like he was in pain, but physically he looked fine. No blood or sings of injuries. It take you a lot of effort to notice through his eyes of his mask that his real eyes were glued shut and a few tears running down.

“Oh my god…his eyes! Look at his eyes.” You told Danny.

“He’s crying!” Danny said surprised.

“Something’s wrong with him. Something’s wrong with him!” You exclaimed. His groans and pants became louder.

“Ahh agh…” Michael complained. Hearing him like this putted you on desperate mode. You tried hitting the barrier unsuccessfully, even kicked it several times.

“Please let in through!” You yelled at the sky, knowing the entity will hear you.

“Do something, guys. Help him! I can’t do anything from here!”

Danny tried to shake his body. No responce. Kazan snaked his body even harder. Again, no response. You noticed some pamphlets in the ground near his boots. You pointed this out to Danny and Kazan. It didn’t took you long to realize that those were her mother’s stripper pamphlets. So did Ghostface and Oni.

“He’s being punished…” Kazan said.

“What? Why?!” You cried. “It’s because of the choker?” You asked.

“Maybe, we don’t know.” Danny spoke.

“No! Please, it’s not his fault it’s mine! I’m the one who should be punished. Please!” You begged to the entity. At this point Michael had his head looking up. Grantings of pain still scaped his mouth.

“No Michael, Michael…listen to me!” You looked at his poor suffering form. “I was wrong. I was wrong! All of this wasn’t your fault. I overreacted, okay? And your mom? Your mom was a beautiful person. She did everything she could for you and both your sisters! I was wrong Michael. I’m so sorry…so so sorry! I didn’t mean anything of this to happen…” You sobbed while explaining yourself. Michael managed to look down at you.

Desperation taking over your body, you punched and kicked the barrier. Demanding the entity to let you in just this once.

“Please!! Please, i-I’ll do anything!” You begged her.

From the distant, Caleb and Evan could hear your screams. They know what was already happening, that’s why the decided that not interfering was the best option. Nothing could have prepared the people on this realm for what was about to happen. Your hands banging the barrier were suddenly met with grass and dirt. You fall, that was for sure. But you had fallen into the other side of the camp. To everyone’s surprise, there was no barrier separating both camps anymore.

“Did just the barrier…” Caleb asked Evan. “What did just the entity do?”

“Allowing what was not allowed.” Evan sounded happy. The entity’s plan was working.

You didn’t have time to enjoy your new freedom nor did you killer friends. As soon you got up you went straight to Michael. Holding him by his broad shoulders, you reassured him.

“I’m here Michael! I’m here. Please come back to me.” You begged him, this time was different. You noticed his hands still struggling and clenched. You grabbed the hand that was holding the knife to see if you could easy some of that tension. Worried eyes examining his mask to catch any sign that he was okay.

Suddenly his struggling stopped and his head went down. Your hands fly up to grab his masked face only to be met by his free hand around your neck, squeezing tightly.

“Dude what are you doing?!” Danny yelled.

“Michael, it-it’s me…” Your air leaving your lungs. His hand dangerously tight around your neck. Threatening to break it right there.

“Judith…” He growled. The entity no longer had him seeing the posters of his stripper mother, his school bullies or his stepfather. Now he was having living flashbacks of his older sister, Judith.

“N-no, Michael please, y-you know me…” It was getting hard for you to speak due to the lack of oxygen.

“Don’t speak.” His hand squeezing harder. “I hate you.” The flashbacks of his selfish sister were really getting to him. It all was so real to him that without noticing he was getting his knife near your belly again.

“Dude-dude, if you killer her she’s not coming back, she’s it coming back Michael!” Danny said trying his best to help you. Michael looked at him for one second or two, then he continued to reach for your belly. In a desperate measure, Danny took off his ghostface mask and grabbed Michael’s hand that was holding his signature kitchen knife.

“Mike, who am i?” Danny asked. Another desperate attempt to make him come back to himself.

“L-loomis.” Michael growled at him.

“No, Michael you know me, come on! Who am i? He asked again.

“D-danny..Danny.” Michael said. You could see the tears in his eyes. He was fighting this.

“Good! Good, now, who is she? You got this you know her.” Danny cheered him up. Michael looked at you, eyebrows frowned.

“J-j…Judidth.”

“No..” You left out a sight. You cried even harder when you noticed Michael raising the knife up.

“Dude stop!!” Danny yelled again, this time ready to do something about it but Kazan had to hold him down.

“Let me go Kazan!”

“You’re only going to make it worst.” He stated, holding Danny down.

“Michael..” You sobbed. You prepared yourself when he got ready to stab you. One final stab, and you were going to see dark…fall to eternal sleep. One last thing scaped your mouth before closing your eyes.

“I love you, Michael Myers…” it was low, you hadn’t much air left. But you didn’t want to leave this world without letting him know this. You glue shut your eyes one last time to embrace his final stab. You even heard Danny screaming “Stop!! Stop it!!!” You were ready now, waiting patiently for your inevitable fate. You flinched your eyes anticipating the blade, but the blade cutted through nothing. You opened your eyes. Somehow you succeeded to get Micheal back. The entity’s plan had worked without you even noticing. He let you fell to the ground so as he did with his knife. Danny and Kazan ran to help you get up. You tried to reach for Michael’s arms but he rejected your touch.

“No…i-i” That was all he could say.

“It’s not your fault Michael.” You assure him. But he just took off leaving the three of you there. He wasn’t the only one afraid to keep touching you it appear. Danny hand left your arm and Kazan took a step back. You gave them a “I’m not following you guys” look.

“It’s just that…this barrier thing, never happened before. We never touched you before, none other than to kill you ir sacrifice you…” Danny spoke for both of them, Kazan and himself.

You reached your hand to Danny’s uncovered face, and cupped it in your warmth. He embrace it immediately. Closing his eyes and smiling.

“You look better with the mask off.” You laughed, he did the same.

“If you say so…”

“Kazan…come here!” You told him with opened arms. He seemed hesitant at first.

“Come…” You insisted, smiling.

“Hug?” He asked.

“Yes!” You exclaimed. The tenderness in his hug cought you by surprise for such a big and buffed man like him.

You stayed like that for a few minutes until Michael was the topic of conversation again. You asked Danny where he might have gone.

“I think I know where..” He said.

The single Street and the kind of trees in the block gave the map away very fast. You were again on Haddonfield.

“I know he sometimes comes here to make mask or whenever he feels bad or angry…I don’t know which house it’s his house tho.” Danny explained.

“Oh don’t worry I know which one is it.” You looked at his still uncovered face.

“Okay, good luck New Girl…if he doesn’t speak right away you should come back later.” He said ready to leave when you said one last thing to him.

“You know Danny…your not that bad after all.” It was the first time he heard you call him by his real name, it always had been “hey ghost!” Or “Ghostie!” It felt good hearing that coming from someone he considered a friend.

“You know y/n…Michael wasn’t wrong after all.”

“I don’t follow.”

“You did made us human after all.” You smiled at his statement then he walks back to the camp.

Once you reach Michael’s house you stepped in. Thinking to yourself he must be upstairs you went up. There was only one room with its door opened. Michael must be in there. You were reaching the end of the stairs, walking as slowly as possible to not give your self away. The house wasn’t helping much tho, with each step you made the wood underneath you cracked. He wasn’t unnoticed to the sound he thought perhaps was the wind since he had the windows open. Your small frame compared to his made a silhouette on his door frame.

Once inside his room you could see he had fully decorated its walls with handmade masks he had done himself. Just like in the movie, but that was on the prison cell instead of his real room. You saw him sat in a chair near a wooden desk. His mask still on, his head was down. His chest moving up and down.

"Michael…" You soft voice soothed his ears. He looked at his left, letting you know he knew you were there. "I'm not here to fight you. Not anymore." You said. Michael didn't react. His breathing sounded soft. Him not having any type of reaction made you move closer to him, until you were besides him. Your left hand resting on his right shoulder. Your eyes wondering the masks hanged on the wall in front of you.

"They are beautiful. You know that?" You told him giving his right shoulder little masages. He looked up to contemplate them. You didn't know how you went from looking masks to have him face to face again and your back pressed yo the wall. By now you were expecting nothing less than a kiss. He grabbed you by both your shoulders and lowered his head until it was pressed against your left collarbone.

This is not a kiss. You thought.

Soft sobs could be heard behind his mask, they were muffled by the same, but you were able to hear them. Then suddenly, he spoke again.

“I’m so…so sorry.” Your heart melted at his words and you couldn’t resist but to hold him tight against your little chest compared to his. More muffled sobs coming from Him.

“It’s okay…I’m the one that should be apologizing.” You replied back.

“You already did.” He lift his head to look at you.

You felt the urge to know how he looked behind that mask. What was he hiding. You didn’t have to take out his mask to know he was beautiful. Took your hand move to the edge of it. Michael moved his head back, hesistant.

“Let me see you Mike.” Hearing you calling him Mike was all he needed.

Pulling the mask up with little effort was necessary to take it off. And just as you spectated, he has long blond curly hair, blueish eyes a big, but yet straight nose, and plump heart shaped lips. A beautiful face, just as you thought. You cupped his face with your hands just as you did with Danny.

“You’re beautiful Michael.” Your voice like a sweet whisper. He touched your lips with his thumb, caressing them like it was a newly found treasure. His treasure.

The feeling of his chapped lips on yours was inevitable. Tho he seemed to be the first to started it, as soon as he started he wanted to finish, scared you wouldn’t like it. But you insisted to kiss him longer. You wanted more. It didn’t matter that his lips were chapped. Eventually you two separated to get some air.

“You’re beautiful.” You reassured him again. He put his forehead against yours.

“And you’re the most beautiful human I ever seen.” He replied, voice deep and low. “Y/n?” He added.

“Yeah?”

“I love you too.” He finally said it. Finally admitted it and gave it a name.

A little time went by and now you were sitting on his lap seeing how he made masks. Your left arm wrapped around his shoulders for support.

“So, I put more glue over here and…we are done.” He was showing you how he made his masks.

“This seems interesting to make.” You replied.

“Are you sure you never done this before?” His mouth forming a little smile. Not fully believing you never done a paper mask before.

“Oh well…you caught me. I did. But a like to see you make them.” You said honestly.

“How cute.” Your heart flinched at his words and your cheeks flushed. “I like it when you flush”

“Stop it Michael!” You gave him a little tug on his coverall.

“Never.” He said looking into your eyes and give your nose a quick kiss.

You spent the rest of the night like this, laughing your lungs out and doing disasters with his glue.

That night loud voices were heard at Haddonfield. The difference this time was that Michael wasn’t alone, he had the best company he could’ve asked for.

I hope you enjoyed this! Sorry if there’s misspellings, English it’s not my mother language, have mercy please 🥹 I’m open to requests!!