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myers-meadow · 2 years

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New urge - Michael Myers x fem therapist

Title: New urge

Pairing: Michael Myers x female therapist.

Warnings: 'Fuck or die'/non-consensual sex. Light spanking. Obsession. Dark but soft. Written from Michael's perspective. Please tell me if there's a warning I have missed. Not proofread, I don't dare ask ppl to proofread non-con unless I really really know they're okay with it.

Summary: A new therapist has her first session with Michael, but instead of therapy, Michael discovers a whole new realm of feelings and desire. Once the gate has been unlocked, he finds himself unable to control these new impulses and an obsession takes root.

Ao3 link

Link to my writing masterlist.

Divider by @/thyming.

A new therapist, Loomis had said, and that he had done all he could to help, was truly out of ideas. As if it mattered to Michael. He sat down in the chair across from the desk of the new therapist, a woman, who waited patiently as the guards fastened the cuffs on his ankles to the legs of the chair. His wrists were bound by heavy chains that looped around his waist, and they stayed on. The greetings were as one-sided as with anyone else, then she laid out her treatment plan.

“We have two hours today, and you can pick an activity you’d like to do in this time. I put them all on little cards since I heard from Samuel that you’re not very talkative,” she showed the papers, there were only a few, “and if you pick one, we can get started.”

She laid the cards out on the desk in front of him, and he stared at them.

“The purpose of each is a bit different, but appeals to get out emotions in a healthy, expressive way. The most exciting one is to go chop wood outside. This option’s cleared with the guards, so there’s no hassle if you like that one. There is also creating something with our hands; there are a few examples on the card.” She tapped the one in question with her fountain pen, “Playing drums or another instrument could also be fun to get some emotions out. So, what do you say?”

And Michael remained silent, as he always had. He observed her with the usual detachedness. Her gaze was unwavering, but so was his. The question hung heavy in the air, and once again his eyes skimmed over the cards on the desk. They must truly be getting desperate if this was all they could come up with. After a solid five minutes of staring, the new therapist broke the silence.

“If there is none that appeal to you, we can sit here the rest of the time. I get paid the same regardless.”

After that, the silence stayed. He crossed his ankle over his knee. The guards had gotten sloppy and gave him a good amount of moving space – they deemed him docile enough to no longer be as scared as they used to be. The clock ticked, the sound of it agitated him. This therapist was different, or indifferent rather. And she meant it. Many of the others grew nervous with the silence, were easily intimidated by his lack of response, but not her.

The longer Michael stared at her, the longer she stared at him, the more that agitation rose. The ticking seemed so loud it made him flinch. The familiar fuzz in his head made him flex his hand, balling it tightly in a fist and releasing it again. She was irksome. He preferred Loomis, at least he was interesting. Immediately he shook that thought off. Perhaps that was the point – to annoy him until he choose an option, and then she could have her ‘gotcha’-moment. His thumb twitched against the worn fabric of his pants. How humiliating would it be to just pick something? Not worth it.

And so the clock ticked on. An hour passed. Too loud, his head, too loud. His gaze returned to the cards in front of him, staring each one down, expecting a triumphant look from the evil therapist when his hand slammed down atop one of the cards. Slid the card to his chest and balled it up in his fist, even thought the thick cardstock hurt.

The therapist perked up, more in surprise than in joy. “You picked one? Which?”

Before he could control himself, he grabbed each of the remaining cards and tore them up in the smallest pieces he could manage. He grabbed the balled up paper and held it out to her in his clenched fist. The woman stood up and walked around the desk to see the paper, but he refused to open his fist. A short touch of her hand to his as she tested his unwillingness, then gave an exasperated look. The buzzing stopped it’s increase in volume.

“Want me to pry it out of your hand or take a guess which one you chose?”

He nodded once. Her hand returned to his, warm, nails long, as she tried to open his hand with force. Fragile thing, he thought. The struggle barely lasted, as Michael stood, towering over her, and grabbed her head and slammed her chest against the desk. One hand on her shoulder, the other on her lower back, just barely allowed by the chains keeping his arms close to him. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. She struggled against him, breath hitched, but even as she pressed her hands to the table and tried to push herself up, he was stronger. Kicking her legs backward only earned her a mild grunt and him digging his fingers in her shoulder painfully. Before she could scream, he bent over her, pressing a firm hand over her mouth. The chain was just long enough, the handcuff slid up his underarm and dug into the skin. He was in control again, he could kill, he could hurt, he could do whatever he liked. And he had plenty of time, he thought, with an eye on the clock. The sound of the ticking had faded, the buzzing grown pleasant now that he stood over her struggling form. Leaning over her like that had his crotch pressed against her bum, and when she resumed her trashing and kicking with renewed energy did he realise he was hard. With a jolt he realised the possibilities of this position. He’d never done anything like this before, nor had he felt the desire, or even had the time. It felt right, though, as he grinded himself into her, hips stuttering from the intensity of the friction.

Merciful, Michael waited until she started to give up. Her approach was like that of a worm wiggling on the pavement. Tears wet his hand, but his grip remained firm. Another grunt of his, and she nodded. She’d be good. Not that the guards would hear, the door was heavy, locked and no one expected any trouble. His hands moved to her lower back, pressing the pads of them into the textures of her hair and her blouse. Her wool skirt was rough to the touch, and he moved it up over her hips. Black underwear visible through a thin pair of tights. Stretching the fragile fabric, digging his fingers in and it tore easily. The chains rattled as his satisfaction grew. She said something, choked out a sob, but he barely heard it. She was obedient enough, though. The size and warmth of his body behind her was enough to keep her in place. Michael hummed as he ran his knuckles over the exposed skin and along the hem of the panties. There was a large mole that peaked out from under the lacy edge, right on the cusp of her back – that alone felt like the most tender discovery he ever made. The excitement running through him made him dizzy. He’d love to have his knife and play a little more, but if he were honest, he couldn’t wait. Gripping the cotton of her panties, he tore them apart by the seams on either side of her hips. Her yelp was punished by a slap to her ass, and for good measure – and because he enjoyed the sting of his hand – a few more. The torn fabric disappeared in the pocket of his robe. He shushed her as she begged him to be gentle. That was interesting, though; ‘slow’, ‘gentle’. No one asked those things of him, it was only ever to stop, to go away, and this felt like an invitation in comparison.

Trusting that she’d stay as she was, he tugged his pants down, then his boxers. He was familiar with having an erection, but this time the head was so dark and swollen it looked purple. With trembling fingers, he held himself and touched the tip of his dick along her privates. It seemed overwhelmingly intimate to know the coarse hair she had was just long enough to curl. It was almost exactly like his. He remembered the videos and the magazines, and she looked different from the women in those, but he preferred this, preferred her, preferred that it was real. Squeezing his length, he rubbed his thumb over her labia, exploring, listening to each of her sounds. Slipped a finger inside, testing how it would feel. Her walls fluttered around the digit, responding to him. He slid out, then in again and moved his thumb along the folds. One small nub in particular made her whine, so he increased the pressure of his finger. Peeking up at her, her eyes were shut tightly, a tear at the corner. Beautiful. Vulnerable.

Even though Michael realised it was his duty as a man to be gentle, he was panting and lightheaded and couldn’t restrain himself. Parting her folds with his thick fingers, he pressed the engorged head inside. It swallowed him. Her eyes shot open, mouth open, but otherwise silent. Painfully tight, and he was so painfully hard that it was almost unbearable. He traced the part of them where they were connected as he pressed in a little more, then dipped his hand down to the part that made her gasp.

Among her whining were words now, more begging, but when he tuned in enough to listen, he found the sounds she made to sound much more like those of pleasure than those of pain. More ‘please, there, oh please’, and the most wonderful hums and sighs.

The inside of his mask felt suffocating, smelled of glue and wet newspapers, but the thought of taking it off was horrifying, he tugged at the elastic, making the chains rattle. He pulled back, slid inside a little again, then pulled out fully. His dick came back glistening. With a curious finger, he traced the vein on the side and felt her slick cooling on his skin. Slipping that finger in his mouth, he pushed back in, brow furrowed, lips thin. Earthy, heady, human. He wouldn’t last. She gripped him in a way he was never able to get himself off, tight but soft and warm and alive. She must feel it too, feel how it was so intensely perfect. The way it fit was unlike anything he ever felt before. Could he say that he loved this? He did, truly did. Loved it more than the rats he used to have. Loved it more than Sunday morning cartoons.

The hand he rested on her back tugged at her blouse aimlessly, something to occupy his hands as he rocked his hips. Still not entirely in, but god, it was already so hot. The instinctive nature of the act surprised him, it was so similar to anything he ever wanted to do, to know exactly how to move to pleasure himself, and so he followed the impulses. Head falling back, delving deeper and deeper. Her folds grew slicker with each thrust, but his head felt so full with that pleasant static that he barely noticed. Even his fingertips, as they trailed over her, him, them, were filled with the hum of static. As if the sensations were so intense and his mind too slow to comprehend it all.

Michael fucked her earnestly then, letting his hips slam against her ass, enjoying the sharp moans at each of his thrusts, and before he could increase the pace in the way he wanted to, he lost control, instincts fully taking over. Gripping her love handles bruisingly tight, he pushed and pulled at her, his pace erratic, but perfect – so perfect. Waves of orgasm crashed over him unexpectedly and he rode it out until his cum dripped out of her and onto the floor.

He slumped, breathing heavy, feeling the sweat on his brow and his back. She shuddered as if she was cold. Flinched when he pulled out, letting more fluids splatter on the floor. The fight had left her entirely, but he barely paid attention, only stroking his softening dick and trying to calm his breathing. His body trembled from the force of the orgasm and from the exhaustion that was taking hold of him, and he touched her once again, feeling the plush skin, the softness of her, the rawness of where his public hair had rubbed against her, the indent of her spine. He considered her from above, as she slowly leaned on her arms, body sore. She seemed equally affected as he was. Stretching and standing up fully, she examined her torn tights and grabbed a tissue from the carton on the desk to catch the cum sliding down her legs. He breathed in the scent from her crown, as he hadn’t stepped aside and was still crowding her. Together their breathing returned to normal, and her skirt covered up any evidence. His mind was silent, quiet, sated. That was the word, sated. Before the therapist could slip away from him, he smoothed over her blouse, and the look she gave him puzzled him.

When the guards came to collect him again, he couldn’t help his lingering stare at the puddle on the floor.

Back in his room, the quiet of his mind provided space for her noises as they resounded and looped in his head. He wanted more. To think this was kept from him! Imagining letting her take him outside to chop wood, and instead shoving her to her knees on the grass and fucking her mouth. Making her gag, wiping her tears and running eyeliner from her cheeks and taste the salt on his fingers. Or pulling her into his lap during the next boring talking session. She’d be surprised, and then warm, and she’d fit around him just as perfectly. He could see her face better like that, as long as he didn’t get so overwhelmed that he needed to close his eyes. How would it feel to kiss her? Taste her? To have her yell for him as he tasted her deeper down there? If his mask were off, the possibilities were endless. He’d leave marks on her without a knife. He’d make sure she remembered him and how he could make her feel when she was alone at home, in the shower, in bed, cooking dinner in the kitchen. What would her home be like? Above all, Michael imagined her beside him in his bed that night, and left space for an imaginary body.

He hated himself for giving in to an urge that wasn’t killing, it was uncomfortable to be confronted with these new desires, but now that it had happened, his hunger for it, for her, was unimaginable. And each time he grew angry with himself for it, a split second memory of those dizzying sensations they shared had him too overwhelmed to think about anything else that day. All he could do, was keep his ears open for news about her as he waited for the next therapy session to come.

#not that my tags will do anything; but for those who have any of these as their hidden tags #michael myers x oc #michael myers #halloween #rz michael myers #rz halloween #cw non-con #non-con #rz michael myers x oc

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hanighul · 2 years

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🎃 Carving pumpkins with Michael Myers 🎃

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gothlollipop09 · 2 years

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Michael Myers x Self Insert +18

MINORS DNI!!!!!!!!! PLS NO INTERACTION IF YOU ARE A MINOR

doing this shit at 2am, I hope they don't delete it lmaoo

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demona-andariel · 9 months

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Object of Obsession - 1 / 46

Fandom: Halloween

Pairing: Michael Myers x OFC

Summary: In Haddonfield everyone knows the legend that was Michael Myers. Content and at ease, they’d forgotten what it was to feel fear in the month of October. But now, he finds himself back and ready for blood but then a bond forms between him and one of his victims. A bond he can’t seem to break. And it starts to make him do things he never thought of doing before.

Warnings: (Encompassing the whole story in no particular order) kidnapping, noncon, explicit sexual content, smut, loss of virginity, rough sex, blood and violence, knifeplay, canon-typical violence

Author Note: Minors DNI!

Word Count: 3,172

Chapter 1 - The Beginning

A fake witch jumped up, cackling through a terrible voice box, causing Gretchen Carter to jump and let out a small scream. Hugging her books closer to her chest she let out a sigh, trying to calm her heart. The damn witch always scared her when she left the public library. She hated the month of October, she hated Halloween and she wasn’t a fan of Haddonfield. But for the fact, that her boyfriend lived in town, she never would have moved. Not that she was staying for very long. Once Brandon figured out what he wanted to do she’d join him. Twenty-two and already financially independent due to her parents dying and her inheriting a bunch of money. It left her with the unique ability to live wherever she wanted and do whatever she wanted.

Nearing her car, she pressed the key fob to unlock her car.

A hand wrapped around her waist and twirled her around, causing her to shriek in delight. “M’lady?” her boyfriend Brandon said as he tipped a non-existent hat. “Will you be joining me on an adventure tonight?”

Her heart jumped at the thought as she leaned up to kiss him. “It is not an adventure we planned?” she asked.

His eyes twinkled. “Can I help you?” he asked as he grabbed the books from her hands. She gulped, not entirely comfortable with it, but didn’t fight him letting him take half the pile. “Learning to cook?” he teased.

She smiled. “I mean, I gotta learn how to be a good housewife right?” she teased back.

He gave her a look then shook his head. “You’re far too independent to be stuck at home all day long,” he commented. Opening the back door to her back seat, he placed the books he had into the backseat and then turned to grab the rest of them. Setting them down, he cocked his head to one side and picked one up. “The Occult World,” he read.

She shrugged her shoulders as she took it from him and set it in her backseat. “It’s almost Halloween and I always get in the mood to read about the supernatural.” It was a half-truth, half-lie. Halloween wasn’t the only time she liked to read up on the occult.

He smiled, taking her words at face value. He rarely questioned her. “Yeah, Haddonfield loves Halloween. As you can tell. You’d think we’d hate it after all those murders years ago. But I don’t know. I remember my mom saying that a mayor wanted to make some money off the tragic events and decided to embrace the Halloween theme. She doesn’t think it’s right since she remembers. She was just a kid then. But, people like making money off tragedies.”

She nodded then shuddered as chills ran through her body. The myth and legend that was Michael Myers. Part of it was based on a true story of that she was sure. He had killed his family as a child, and when he was all grown up, he’d escaped from the mental hospital he was kept in and went to finish the job by trying to kill his sister. While getting to her, he killed multiple other people. He’d been shot and killed, but the locals claimed they never found his body. And his sister disappeared, leaving town to never be seen or heard from again. There were other rumors of sightings of the masked man holding a knife.

Her mind seemed to travel and suddenly she was in a forest area filled with a dense fog. The leaves danced with a sudden breeze and whispered. Danger. She looked up and there he was. He walked out from the fog wearing coveralls, a shiny clean knife in one hand, white mask over his face. The Michael Myers of myth and legend. And he was walking straight for her. She gasped in surprise. The ground was slippery from the morning dew and she slipped on it as she was trying to get away from him, falling on her ass to the ground. Somehow he’d easily walked the distance between them in moments. She looked up as he raised his knife over his head to plunge it down into her heart-

“Gretch?” Brandon asked with concern as he gently pushed her, snapping her back to reality.

“I’m sorry, did you say something?” she asked. She hated her imagination. It always brought her to places she didn’t want to be.

“You’re looking a little pale. Are you feeling alright?” he asked as he gently cupped her face.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

He searched her eyes. “You know, we don’t have to go through with it tonight. We can do it tomorrow or next month. Or any day.”

She looked up at him, using her hands to roam his body till she could get under his shirt and touch his skin. She rubbed his sides. He let out a cough.

“I want us to have sex tonight. I’m done waiting. You, me, your car, virginity gone!” she demanded.

He gulped, lust entering his eyes. “Then I shall pick you up at 8,” he said, grabbing her hands, he brought them up to his mouth and kissed them.

“And don’t forget to dress up,” she called out. “We’re going to Michaela’s costume party tonight.”

He smiled and blew her a kiss before briskly walking away.

She was glad he left. She wasn’t sure she could control herself much more. Although they’d been dating for a year, they didn’t actually meet in person till this past summer when she’d come up to see him. After that, it was her getting her finances in order, finding a place to rent, and figuring out how to move. She’d been living in town for a little over three months and they still hadn’t done the deed.

Sighing, she got into her car and started the engine. It wasn’t that she was against sex. She just never found the person she wanted to have sex with. But when she met Brandon she knew he was the one. Her soulmate. Her mind had immediately taken her away into a vision of sorts. They were in his car, kissing, touching, petting. They were going to have sex. They both knew it. They both were ready.

A shiver ran down her spine as the idea of what she knew was going to come slowly clouded into darkness. She let out a sigh. Her brain was a funny thing. It liked to tease her about things, but never finish them. But tonight, oh tonight. She was going to finish what her brain started. She felt her stomach flutter at the thought.

A rumble overhead caught her attention. She looked up and frowned as a storm started to take shape.

The sound of people laughing and celebrating grated on him. He wanted to kill them all. He had no reason for it. It was just what he was supposed to do. He watched a group of people in costumes walk along a road as they made their way into a house that was much too loud. Unfortunately, too many people. For now at least. He could pick them off, one by one as they left, most likely drunk and too stupid to notice he was there until he dealt them the killing blow.

But, it wasn’t quite Halloween. Not that day or time mattered, but this time he wanted to start out slow and progress. The town of Haddonfield had made a mockery of him. He was going to make them fear his name. His hand clenched around his knife.

The wind rustled around him. And he looked up toward a hill situated a little bit outside of town. His breathing deepened. He knew that place. The kids called it Lover’s Lane. During his wanderings, he’d seen a car or two parked up there. Young teenagers were fucking. Easy targets.

His body moved automatically as he tried to control his breath. People were wrong in thinking he didn’t feel. He did feel emotion. Butterflies fluttered in his chest at the thought. He was going to start his killing spree again.

Gretchen stared out of the window of her car as Brandon drove them. It was going to rain, she could smell it in the air, she’d seen it in the clouds earlier. Not that it mattered. It wasn’t like they were going to fuck outside.

Brandon looked over at her, putting his hand on hers and squeezing. She smiled as she looked over at him. She hadn’t talked much since he’d picked her up. He’d arrived dressed as a knight, and she had dressed up as a princess, making sure that her costume had two separate pieces and a loose enough long skirt to hike up in case she got impatient.

She let him drive her car since her car had the biggest seat of the two. But after they had kissed and headed on their journey she’d been quiet. It wasn’t that she was having second thoughts. Something was bothering her, and she was trying to figure out what.

She’d packed an overnight bag with some extra clothes and she wasn’t exactly sure why. She had a feeling she would need it and she had learned to listen to her feelings.

“Is this it?” she asked excitedly as he turned down a hard-to-see dirt road. The first words that were spoken since they started their journey.

A smile crossed his face as he winked at her.

Her heart skipped a beat. This was it. She couldn’t wait. Before her parents died she’d promised that she’d wait to have sex till she was eighteen. Once she hit eighteen she figured she could wait some more till she found the right guy. She wasn’t in a rush. Looking at Brandon, his wavy short dark-brown hair, dark eyes, and handsome features, she knew she’d hit the jackpot. She shook her head at her silly thoughts. It didn’t matter that he was handsome, that was a bonus. He was kind and gentle, and most importantly, they were connected.

He pulled up to a clearing and parked the car to overlook the town. She let out a gasp as she looked at it from above. It did look quite beautiful.

“You look beautiful,” he said as he looked at her dreamily, running a hand through her long brown hair. His brown eyes met her hazel ones. She caught his hand and planted a kiss on it, looking up at him through her eyelashes. “Fuck,” he whispered as he leaned over to kiss her.

She felt her cheeks go red as she blushed, greedily kissing him back.

“How did I ever get so fucking lucky?” he finally asked, pulling away.

“The gods smiled upon you,” she teased as she pulled down her strapless top. Her breasts popped out and he bit his lip while groaning. She reached out, locking her fingers behind his head as she pulled him into a deep kiss, her tongue demanding his. He obliged. His hands ran along her sides till he reached her breasts. She let out a moan as he flicked her nipples and played with them. Why in the world had she waited so long?

She couldn’t wait much longer. Her hands traveled down his body onto his pants, feeling the bulge. She could feel a tingle in her pussy. She was getting wet. Her hands found the button and zipper and she quickly freed his cock. Breaking free from their fondling she looked at it, a smile crossing her face. He was hard and ready for her. He grabbed her hand as she reached for him.

“Uh, Gretch,” his cheeks blushed a deep red. “You got me really hot and bothered earlier today. I don’t think I can last much longer. For right now that is.” He breathed heavily.

“Oh,” she said. Thinking quickly, she climbed over the front seat into the back and slid her underwear down. He quickly joined her, rubbing up against her as he felt for her sex while kissing her again.

Her heart thumped in her chest and she moaned as his fingers found her clit. She let out a giggle as her body filled with intense emotions.

“Are you sure you want to do this here?’ Brandon asked her in concern as he lay over her. “I mean, your apartment.” She nodded then shook her head in answer to his questions. Her mind went back to the images she had when she first met him. They’re in the car. He’s over her. They’re going to fuck. She knows it. Her soulmate- A frown crossed her face as her thoughts turned into darkness once again.

“Gretch?” he asked, noticing the change in her face.

She shook her head, banishing the dark cloud away. This was a good thing. She wanted to lose her virginity to Brandon. He was her soulmate. Her destiny. Her future.

“It’s nothing,” she said, leaning up to kiss him. Her heart pounding with anticipation and- fear?

“This might hurt a little bit,” he said with a shaky voice. “What I’m told.”

“I’m not an idiot,” she grabbed her purse from the back of her seat, digging through it till she found a condom and pulled it out as well as a small bottle of lube. “Safety first! And lube it up, let’s go.”

He let out a chuckle then his breathing deepened as she slowly tore the condom package while looking at him. One of his hands vigorously rubbed one breast, while the other went under her skirt and played with her ass.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he growled.

Her eyes danced with mischief. “I know,” she replied. Suddenly, she grew shy again.

She handed him the condom and lube for him to put on. He rolled his eyes as he let her go to roll the condom on. “You’ve done this before,” he commented. It was true. She’d given him blowjobs and handjobs before with and without condoms. But this felt different. For some reason, she felt shy and timid. She wanted him to take charge right now. He’d had sex before. He knew what to do. She wanted him to lead her.

They weren’t exactly comfortable in the backseat of his car. She moved her skirt up, wishing she hadn’t worn her costume. She should have taken the whole thing off, but she was worried that someone else would come along and see her naked.

“Oh wow,” he said, staring at her pussy, making her blush again. He kissed her again and she eagerly returned his kiss, his hands wandering her body, fondling her breasts. She moaned as she moved her hands under his shirt. They had on too many clothes, her brain complained. Deep down she knew it would be way easier with fewer clothes, but they could get real naked another time. Right now, she wanted to get this done. Finally, pulling back he nodded toward her. “Ready?” he asked.

She nodded and looked down to watch. She could feel him staring at her. She could feel the love in his eyes as he started to enter her.

Her senses screamed danger. “Brandon… Brandon!” Gretchen screeched, pushing him away from her, but accidentally toward the danger she saw. Her eyes widened in terror, pressing herself back into her door, quickly covering her body.

Lightning flashed as thunder struck while at the same time the car window busted as an arm with a knife came through, slashing Brandon’s back. He screamed in pain and turned. The hand not holding the knife unlocked the door and threw it open. He didn’t have much time to react as the knife plunged into his leg. Gretchen screamed as she grabbed Brandon, trying to keep him from being dragged out of the car. It was useless. The man pulled Brandon out with ease and he landed with a hard thump on the wet ground. The skies broke and water poured down.

Gretchen screamed as the man pulled Brandon up by his neck with one hand. Brandon started to struggle to escape and to breathe. But the man didn’t seem bothered and barely even moved by Brandon’s effort. Instead, he slowly and deliberately put his knife through the fake knight’s armor, into Brandon’s chest.

Gretchen covered her mouth with her hands in horror as the man waited till Brandon stopped moving. He let the body go and stared at it for a moment as it dropped in a heap at his feet. Her Brandon was dead. Her future was gone. The killer’s body had no real features that she could latch onto. He was a shape in the rain. Slowly, he turned his head and through his mask, looked back at her. Coveralls, a bloody knife, a white mask, emotionless eyes. Michael Myers was real.

Her fight or flight instincts kicked in as she pushed the passenger door open and toppled onto the ground. There was no time to grab her shoes, not that they would have helped as they were high heels. She ran, slipping in the fresh mud, ignoring the pain as she stepped on rocks and twigs. If she made it to the main road she could get a car to stop. Maybe… No! They might not see her with the new downpour. Her mind showed her the way. She had to go into the woods. Michaela’s house was only a mile and a half away if she took the shortcut through the woods.

She had to make it. The trees were within reach. She could make it! She let out a scream as a hand grabbed her hair, pulling her back. How in the world had he caught up to her? She fell to the ground at his feet. The knife was inches from her face. She looked up at him. Was this why the images of her future were dark? Was this how she died?

She could see his eyes through his mask. No emotions. A killer. His hand reached down to grab her neck with one hand while the knife was raised up with the other. He wanted to kill her like he killed Brandon. No! She wasn’t going to die like this. Quickly, she bit his hand, surprising him as he pulled back. She tried to get to her feet and run. This was her moment. His fingers grabbed at her, and she felt a sharp stinging pain as his knife sliced her somewhere. Her feet slipped in the wet grass without having her arms to save her as she was struggling to free her hair from him, she fell. Pain shot through her head and she couldn’t move as the wind was knocked out of her. He stood above her. Brandon’s blood, still coating his knife, slowly dripping down thanks to the rain. So, she was right after all. Brandon was her soulmate. Her blood would soon join his. Damn, she should have had sex with him months ago. It was difficult for her to keep her eyes open. She wanted her killer to see the anger, the defiance. If she became a ghost, she was going to make sure she haunted his ass. The last thing she saw was his knife raised above her and then her world went dark.

Chapter 2 - Unexpected Turn of Events

#michael myers x oc #Smut #horror #noncon tw #Slashers #fanfiction #michael myers fanfic #tw noncon

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myersobsession · 2 months

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where did everybody go?

#1978 michael myers #halloween 1978 #michael myers #halloween oc #michael myers art #artwork #oc x canon #slasher x oc #slasher oc #michael myers x oc

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slipkknuttt · 3 months

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Mr. Sandman, bring me a Treat Pt.1

'78 Micheal Myers x Oc Insert

# Micheal being a menace, Violence, Gore(??), Micheal is his own warning, NSFW in later chapters, Micheal and Laurie are siblings, Micheal is 24 and Paige is 21, Dr. Loomis be annoying asf

Summary: After Paige moved into her new home, she started noticing weird things happening. Her belongings, food, clothes, all randomly going missing and reappearing and a newfound roommate who appears to love sweets, especially candy.

Notes: This is my first story. it might not be the best. I hope the more I write, the better I become. I just love Michael and wanted to write my first story on him.

"Yeah, mom, I got here safe."

Paige spoke as she leaned against the wall, twirling the phones cord on her finger. She glanced around at all the boxes, mentally preparing herself to have to unpack everything on her own.

"It's just that I want you to be safe. I didn't know if you heard about what happened in Haddonfeild 18 years ago.. Or what happened 3 years ago, 1978?"

Paige can hear the worried tone in her mother's voice. She hadn't really wanted Paige to move, but she didn't protest to the fact that her daughter would have a better job opportunity moving to Haddonfeild. It was a small town. Everything was close compared to where she used to live in Paterson.

Paige sighed, "I know you're worried for me, mom, but really, I'm going to be okay. If it makes you feel better, I'll try to give you a call at least once a week."

"Okay... I love you." Paige smiled, pushing herself off the wall. "I love you too, mom. Goodbye." She placed the phone back on the wall before looking around her new home. The house would need some work down, but she's sure that she can manage until she at least starts working her new job.

The boxes looked overwhelming, and she mentally cursed herself for the time she was about to take to have to clear up all of the boxes. This is most likely going to take the rest of tonight. If not, she will continue after she gets home from her job interview.

Paige was shaken from her thoughts when she heard a thud from her basement. Her eyes widened slightly, and her shoulders tensed momentarily before her shoulders eased. Her landlord had warned her that the pipes in the basement were loud. She'd have to get someone to check that out some time.

...

She paused as she heard another noise. Curiosity got the best of her as she got closer to the basement door. Her hand reached out to grab the doorknob.

Another thud

Paige shook her head, "Nope, no, no, not today."

She backed away from the door, her arms crossed over her chest. A small, amused smile on her face. 'I think my mom's paranoia is rubbing off on me.' She thought to herself, shaking her head in disbelief. She turned on her heal and started walking over to her kitchen. She figured it'd be easier to start one room at a time, and the kitchen was closer.

She grabbed the nearest box, which was filled with her utensils. She grabbed her knife block before placing it by the stove before going back to grab the knives when she nicked her finger on one of the knives.

Paige winced as she removed her hand from the box. The cut wasn't deep, but it definitely should get cleaned before it gets infected.

She walked over to the living room before opening the boxes in search of a bandaid.

"Where are they?" She groaned, becoming increasingly irritated. After looking around some more, she gave up. Paige walked back into the kitchen.

She turned on the sink, putting her finger under the cool water. It stung like hell. When she turned around, she noticed a box on bandaids.

Now she was confused. These weren't here just a few minutes ago when she needed them. She grabbed them before looking at them closely they weren't her usual bandaids that she buys. When Paige looked in the box there was only one.

"Look at that, lucky me.." She sighed, putting her glasses on top of her head before pinching the bridge of her nose. She let out a tired sigh before grabbing the bandaid from the box and placing it on her cut.

Paige placed her head on her arms for a moment, closing her eyes. She wondered what the hell was going on today. Why was it just now kicking her in the ass?

She raised her head and started going back to placing the knives in the chopping block one by one. After she was finished, she noticed that her large kitchen knife was nowhere to be seen. She knew it was in the box earlier, so where the hell did it just go.

Now she was getting irritated, but she shrugged it off. Today is not her day..

Instead of searching for the missing knife, Paige decided to just continue unpacking the kitchen items. She wasn't even going to question it. It would have been no point anyway.

---

Paige would eventually finish both the kitchen and living room.... 2 hours later. She sat on her couch with a small sigh.

Tic Tok Tic Toc

Paige turned her head towards the source of the sound. It was a tall, brown grandfather clock with gold accents. She figured that it came with the house, probably belonged to the previous owners. She admired the beautiful engraved detailing before noticing dark speckles.

Her eyes narrowed as she stood up, walking closer to the clock to get a better look. However, before she could get closer, she heard a soft knocking at the front door. Her eyes tore away from the huge clock as she started walking over to the door. She opened it to be greeted by a little old lady holding what appeared to be apple pie.

"Oh, hello. I'm Janis, your neighbor." The woman spoke, her voice soft yet weak and shaky. She had these kind, hazel eyes and graying blond hair that looked like it was turning white. Her skin was pale and wrinkly, and Paige had noticed that her nails were painted red.

Paige smiled at the old lady. "It's very lovely to meet you Janis, I'm Paige."

"Paige... What a lovely name. Where'd you move from, my dear?" Janis asked curiously before handing Paige the pie, earning a small thank you from the younger woman.

"I'm from New Jersey, ma'am."That's far, isn't it? Did you move here for college?"

Paige nodded her head to the woman's question, "It is, but I have better opportunities here."

The woman smiled, "I'm glad to hear that, dear. Anyway, I ought to go, I hope you have a good night."

Paige smiled warmly, the woman reminded her of her grandmother. "You too, Janis, goodnight."

Janis turned to leave, and then that's when Paige shut her door. She walked over to the kitchen before putting the pie on the counter. She then remembered the clock, and her curiosity peaked again.

She walked over to the living room, not noticing the eye holes burning into the back of her skull.

When she looked at the grandfather clock, she noticed the speckles of a redish brown. Blood. Dried Blood. Her finger hovered over the fake blood, and she tried to scrape it off.

BANG

She flinched before snapping her head over to the source of the noise.

Paige was then met with the sight of a man wearing blue overalls, but the most noticeable feature was his mask. A stark white mask with matted brown hair and these dark eye holes.

She froze. She couldn't even speak.

She was scared.

The man tilted his head at her as if daring her to move. His stare was threatening. That's when she noticed a knife, HER knife, in HIS hand. She raised her hands defensively.

He didn't try to move closer to her. He just turned and walked away, moving into the kitchen. She then heard another slam, and she flinched once more.

"What the fuck?"

Then realization dawned on her. That was Micheal Myers..

#michael myers #michael myers x reader #x oc #ocs #oc insert #michael myers x oc

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miss--river · 3 months

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Okok, here's something to talk about for each Jori ship 👀...

It's movie night at home, and its a double feature- what are they watching and who picked it! Include the snacks too 🎤

Driss- jori has been temporarily banned from picking movies because she keeps picking horror movies lmfao! driss likes them too but sometimes he wants to watch something else😭so, driss is picking this time and he wants to watch Kingsman! they're both action and comedy movies lovers so its perfect! for snacks, popcorn is a staple of movie nights so its a must! jori really likes a mix of sweet and salty snacks so she'd also pick up some trail mix and probably mix some sweet candies into the popcorn. of course they're also getting soda and jori loves making homemade sweet coffee drinks so there's gonna be lots of that too!

Jason- jori always lets jason pick! she'll give him a bunch of options from old classic movies, to movies that are nostalgic to her, to more recent ones. jason tends to pick whatever jori seems the most excited about when she tells him what its about. this time they're gonna watch Up and of course jori is already bawling her eyes out in the beginning of the movie lmfao! jason isnt a junk food kinda person but there's a small chance that he'll eat something if jori offers it to him. since jori is basically going to be the only one eating the snacks she'll probably just get some popcorn and get bottle of soda.

Michael- first of all, getting this dude to sit down for a movie is basically a struggle. but she can always convince him with sweets! dr. pepper is a MUST or movie night is a hard no for him! they're mostly gonna have candy like m&ms, cookie dough bites, gummy worms, full sized chocolate bars, ect. the movie doesnt matter to michael, he's probably going to get bored and fall asleep, so jori always picks. after getting michael to finally plant his butt on the couch jori is putting on something cute like nick and nora's infinite playlist!

#ugh-my-back #OC: Jori #Ship: Broken and Beautiful #Ship: Beauty and the Beast #Ship: Bittersweet Fools #Cyberpunk 2077 #Friday the 13th #Halloween #Jason Voorhees #Jason Voorhees x OC #Michael Myers #Michael Myers x OC

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laughableillusions · 1 year

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Madcap, sitting by himself at the dining room table:

Michael: what the fuck are you doing up it’s 2am

Madcap: Waiting for my hot pocket to cool down.

Michael:

Madcap:

Michael:

Michael: *sits down next to him*

#michael myers x oc #michael myers #incorrect slasher quotes #oc x canon #slasher oc #clown oc #michael myers x reader #slasher x oc

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ebonyslasher · 2 years

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Go Play with Yourself

Fandom: Slasher

Specifics: Female black!oc, masturbating, voyeurism, grown folks business (no minors!)

Summary: NeAri had a very rough and stressful week. She could not wait to get home to relieve herself, hands exploring in pleasure. In her haste, she doesn't notice that she isn't home alone....

It's been a week. A very rough work week that had NeAri coming home exhausted every evening. No time for relaxation or fun. The only rest she got was sleeping.

It's been a week since she's had a fun time releasing stress. One of her favorites was sex. Either she was fucking or masturbating. It wasn't the only way to release tension, but it was the most effective. However, that was last Friday. This Friday was working much better in her favor. Getting off at a reasonable time, NeAri began driving home with pleasuring herself heavy on her mind.

So heavy that at every stop light, she would rub herself through her pants. The thick crotch inseam would run across her clit, sending a delicious teasing pleasure. Each signal built up a pulsation in her pussy. All of her mental power was dedicated to pleasure, sending her brain into horny mode.

Finally, she made it home! Pulling into the driveway recklessly, NeAri grabs her things and rushes into the house. She gave herself a moment to pause, listening for any noise.

Silence.

She was alone. NeAri began rushing upstairs, taking her clothes off in the process. At the first step, her shoes were kicked off. The third, her shirt was flying over the railing. The fifth had her tripping, trying to take off her pants. Right at the top, NeAri flung her bra off. The bedroom door that stood in her way was ripped open. Her panties were thrown down as she plopped onto the bed.

Rubbing at her core, she moans. Each layer that she journeys through is hotter than the last. She was melting. As evident by the pull of clear, viscous fluid that trailed with her fingers.NeAri gives her vagina a wet slap loving the sound it makes at contact. The tip of her two fingers probes her moist opening. Backing out, they part. They caress along the side of her labia. Coming together at the top to circle around her impatient jewel. Enlarging the circle, she glides over her urethral opening; giving her another bump of bliss. NeAri spreads her juices everywhere, making her skin glisten. Closing her legs slightly, she could even feel it between her ass cheeks.

She kept going at it, starting to abuse her clit. As she kept up her ferocious beating, she was nearing her finale. NeAri unconsciously lifted her lower body from the bed as she got closer. Closer. CLOSER.

Until

Michael Myers

"Ah- Michael!" Yes, Michael was the one she should call out for. But, the cute way NeAri moaned his name would not give her mercy. The attempt at pleasing herself was erotic and adorable, but he knows he can do it better. She should know better than to do that. He stomps over and grabs her wrist, removing her hand from her begging slit. NeAri's eyes scrunch, the pain from the pressure of Michael's grab was almost too much. She was scared of what he was about to do. Good.

Michael slaps his rough hand across her clit. He uncharacteristically starts to slowly rub her vulva, purposefully missing her sweet nub. His mask stares down at NeAri as he teases the ever-loving shit out of her. She knew what to do next.

Beg.

Danny Johnson

"Damn sugar, you know to put on a show!"

NeAri drops her body down in surprise. She thought she was alone in the house. But Danny leaned against the doorway with a flirty smirk on his face. "Why'd you stop? Keep playing with that juicy pussy." Fuck, her pussy pulsed hard to that command. She places her hand back down to start fingering herself, slick sounds filling the space between you.

God, he loved that sound. And he loved that view. A pretty brown revealing glistening pink. He had to sit on the bed to get a closer look.

"Make sure to squirt on my face real good."

Daniel Lamb

'Oh wow wow wow. She's really-!'

Daniel crept at the cracked door to her room. It wasn't the full view he wanted, but he could see enough what was going on. And what was happening was so erotic that he started palming himself through his pants. Even though they were dating, it felt wrong doing this. Taboo. Being an unknown voyeur to her pleasure. But that made the situation even more exciting. As NeAri got more frantic, he did too. His palming turned into full jerking himself in his pants. Her joyous moans were getting louder and he knew that she was about to cum. He was going to cum too...oh God, Oh God, OH-

Leo Kasper

'-Brother, what are we doing?!'

Leo stood back on the sidelines, watching Daniel completely go braindead watching NeAri masturbate. Totally forgetting his existence. Prick. It angered him enough to exercise his control over Daniel's mind. He was at the perfect point of weakness. Leo pulled his hand out of his pants and swatted open the door. "Don't leave me out of the fun princess"

He swatted her hand away and replaced it with his own. "You know I do it better anyway"

#michael myers #black reader #daniel lamb #danny johnson #leo kasper #ghostface #GFB #grown folks business #black!oc #michael myers x oc #danny johnson x oc #ghostface x oc #leo kasper x oc #daniel lamb x oc #slasher x oc

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ericac318 · 1 year

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Michael versus the firefighters is one of my all-time favorite scenes

#michael myers #halloween #michael myers x oc #peepaw myers #james jude courtney #michael myers x y/n #halloween kills

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chrysalmor · 4 months

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Loving (Killer) Machine

#my art #canon x oc #michael myers x oc #michael myers #oc x canon #digital art

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maveras-posts · 2 years

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MORE ✨CrAcK✨ / Dating Mikey Headcannons…

🔪Dating Michael Headcannons🔪:

EMO BOY ALL THE WAY

Michael sounds like ✨CORPSE✨

Loves Black and RED (Obviously🙄)

Blonde hair covers 1/3 of HIS FACE and his eye

He LOWKEY gets annoyed by it and constantly tries to get it OUT OF HIS EYES

He owns Black Air ✨FORCE ONES✨ (May or may not be ✨StOlEn✨)

Michael also feeds stray cats (Will try to bring them home)

MICHAEL IS A CINNAMON ROLL (Is a Serial Killer but is so FUCKING INNOCENT)

Like he has seen his victims having sex before he kills them but he never thought too much into this(IT MIKEY WE TALKIN ABOUT) 🤦‍♀️

If you’re in a relationship with him you will have to explain A LOT to this man

The first time he sees you nakey he is confused as to why you ✨PaNiCkEd✨ and covered yourself

Just stood there 🧍‍♂️

Not like it’s gonna stop him (CLINGY AF)

Will literally wait outside of the door for you the WHOLE TIME

Michael does it out of fear of losing you (He made it his MISSION to protect you)

Good news Michael is quite low maintenance (Accept for the injuries he sustains from “work”)

Once he knows that he loves you HE IS COMMITTED TO THE END

As long as you accept him, he has no issues with what you do (Just include him)

If you show him your interests he will try to understand (Michael will convince himself it’s the only cool hobby in the world since it’s yours)

In Michael’s eyes your an ✨AnGeL✨ (His Lil y/n can do NO WRONG)

Anyone who disagrees will be… let’s just say “Silenced”

It will take some time BUT he NEEDS your touch without it he feels off

This lil mofo will even purr when he wants attention (Our Stabby Boi is NEEDY)

And he will ✨BeAr HuG✨ you from behind if you aren’t giving him attention

MANY may argue this, but Michael also likes kisses

Kissing Michael won’t happen often even though he likes it.

It can kinda be awkward at times (GIVE HIM A BREAK he is not used to this.)

But trust me HE IS TRYING

Mikey is kinda new at affection but he is a wonderful ✨LiStEnEr✨

Especially if you want to gossip, you got his 100% undivided attention

And will FUCK ANYONE up for you (Attack Dog energy)

I CAN AND WILL go on and on so please send in requests…

An: Hiya Bitches, Bros & other Hoes! I am alive and I SURVIVED FINALS! And I am still trying to write and post something at least once a week now, trying to balance work and all off that fun stuff (I say sarcastically). I hope all of you are well and requests and comments are open, please feel free to request something. I love your ideas and it fuels my creativity and I can see what I come up with. ALSO I was going to possibly throw more OC content in as well, luckily it is summer and I now have more time to think. 👻Stay Spooky!👻

Lots of Love,

Mavera

@slasherholic @maryapricc @slasherfxcker @slasherwife @slasherhaven @horrorfixxx @michaelmyers-isdaddy @michaelmyers @slasher @haddonfieldmurders @haddonfieldproject

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lacey-z · 1 year

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Whose is the Face in the Mask part 3

CHAPTER 3: Let me be your freedom

As the days passed, Myers and Eliza grew closer. It was the little things, things that in others would be considered unimportant, worthless of note, but that in Myers were huge.

During their appointments, he would look at her, focused on whatever she was saying. This surprised her at first, but slowly the woman got used to it, talking more and more, leaving the initial silence behind. Ignoring him at this point would be counterintuitive, Eliza thought, would cause him to shut down again, and that wasn't the plan.

She would talk about her day, the news, the books she had read and daily life in general. It was difficult to come up with new topics, since he didn't speak at all, and her life was now limited by the walls of the sanatorium. But honestly, Michael didn't care, he listened attentively to everything she said, it had been a long time since anyone had spoken to him about anything other than himself, and in such a pleasant way! His face would remain as stoic as ever, but at least he was invested now.

There would still be moments of silence, which Eliza tried to maintain so as not to overwhelm the man, but unknown to her, he was patiently waiting for her to speak again.

Being in the solitaire for the most part of his life, besides the fear Loomis’s tales invoked in the other inmates, Michael had little to no “conversations” – if you can call a monologue a conversation – outside of the psychiatrists’ questionings. Of course, he was still wary of the woman talking to him, figuring it may all be a tactic to get him to talk. But, since she didn’t wait for any response from him, Myers allowed himself to think it would be fine.

- Do you know Linda? She is that nurse I told you about, the one who sometimes come here give me papers. She is the one who made cake for us too… Well, for me, but you enjoyed it too! – Eliza giggled, patting her own legs idly – She gave me the recipe, so I will make us cake as well soon enough.

Myers’s blinked at her, unfazed.

- I know, it’s great, right? – From the first day that Eliza offered him the cake they made it a routine, once a week she served him a dessert, and the detective could have sworn that he would be waiting for her.

That made her smile, but it also brought up some concern about the man's health – since a dead criminal is a boring criminal. She knew that all the patients ate together in the cafeteria, a sort of resocialization, yet she never saw Myers there, which made sense, as he was considered "too dangerous for socializing”, but it made her question whether he was eating at all as the other doctors often bragged about the different torture methods they used to try and get him to talk.

Surely, he would eat in his own cell, but his physique made her question it. Myers was a tall man, certainly taller than most, he was heavily built but oddly thin. His face also gave off a sickly impression, pale and unkempt, dark circles under his eyes. She sometimes wondered if he could have looked handsome if it weren't for his dire circumstances.

- Aren’t you feeding only of the cakes, are you, Mr. Myers? – She smirked at him after thinking a bit, it was the first time Eliza asked him a direct question, and the woman didn't expect any answer, of course.

And none came, a blank stare was all answer given.

- Does Loomis send you food? – Ignoring the silence and moving forward seemed to be the best approach when dealing with Michael, so she kept doing it.

The mention of Loomis' name made the man lose interest, looking elsewhere. When this first happened, Eliza worried that she had lost him, but over time it became clear that it was just something he would do, so she didn't worry too much, but took note of it.

Myers seemed to dislike his therapist, that much was obvious. Each time his name was suggested, Michael closed up again. Eliza could not judge him for that, even if the man was a criminal, he was still a six-year-old child when he was admitted for the first time, and the "professionals" of the sanatorium never tried to approach him properly, soon declaring him to be a soulless monster that needed to be contained, not treated. Sure, his crime was horrific, but really, there were worse people in the facility, it looked like Myers had just become a scapegoat for the doctor's cruelty, which was enough for him to win Eliza's favor.

- Perhaps I should go to your… room to police your eating? – It was meant to be a joke, but his eye immediately went back to her, attentive - …Yes?

He said nothing, but for her it was a positive.

- I will… Uh, ask for permission to do it, don’t worry.

The last minutes of their appointment went as usual, completely silent.

When the guard arrived to take him back Eliza stood up with them, walking to Myers’s side, wishing him a good night.

Convincing Loomis wasn’t easy, really, just talking with him wasn’t easy too for that matter.

- Think about it, Doctor. It’s a great opportunity to get him talking! - It was frustrating how much control he had over Michael, the final word was always his. Eliza had no interest in making Myers’s talk so soon, and if he spoke anything she would never tell Loomis – If he already is eating by himself, what difference will it make that I’m there?

- The man is dangerous, Doctor Monroe, how can I allow you to be there? – He was always with Myers, yet somehow, when others wanted to do the same, he was suddenly “too dangerous”, what was this? Jealousy? Was he too egotistical to assume he made a mistake in portraying a mentally ill child as a monster to the outside world?

- There have never been any accidents with Myers, Doctor. I am willing to take the risk for the sake of the research – Eliza caressing her own arm, trying to calm down.

- Do you think this attitude will make him change anything?! Claire, you are acting like a fool. Michael Myers can’t be changed or convinced to speak.

- For god’s sake… - Should she get rid of him? Send him off somewhere so she could assume Myers’s case? – Listen, I’m not asking for advice, you have your approach, I have mine, all I want is for you to don’t make my job harder. You can keep your own… “treatment”, I will try mine as well.

- Honestly, how could Doctor Bennet-

- We are colleagues, Loomis. Nobody here works under you, we are equal. Don’t start with this shit talk, spare me my time.

They exchanged unsatisfied stares, a wordless war. If Loomis wanted to dig his own grave Eliza wouldn’t stop him, if she was going to die testing her hypothesis on Myers she didn’t want to be stopped as well.

Michael wasn't a psychopath, thankfully. He wasn't charming at all, never had any immorality (besides killing, of course) in his life before - thought Eliza believed that his "sister obsession" had sexual roots, be it desire or trauma. And most important, he lacked the famously grandiose sense of self-esteem, so common in many criminals and so disgusting to Eliza.

When dealing with criminals, Eliza would often lay low, hiding her identity, waiting for their moves, and reacting accordingly. With Myers it was different, she couldn't expect him to act, because he wouldn't. She was the one leading, appearing, and putting herself in a dangerous position. Ever since she started seeing him, her worries started to come up more, what if someone found out that her identity was fake? What was Myers using her, pretending to act like she wanted just to escape? What if Loomis found out she was a fake due to their arguments? What if Linda, who was so close to her, started to suspect something was off?

Mind consumed by paranoia, she arrived at the cafeteria, carrying her food and an extra plate. Those worrisome thoughts only disappeared as she made her way to Myers's cell, where he was being held for "security".

The guards allowed her in after some convincing. Only if Loomis had been this easy.

Michael sitting in his bed, tied by his foot, avoiding an escape, he was in his hospital clothes, as always; they were gray, like from the most patients.

- Goodnight again, Mr. Myers – Eliza entered carefully, being sure to close the door behind her.

His eyes were fixated in her direction, almost surprised.

- Are you happy I came? – She smiled, walking in his direction, still cautious but also more relaxed now that Loomis wasn’t in her mind anymore – I told you I would make sure you are eating well. Bet you didn’t expect me to be this fast!

-… - His eyes followed her as she approached.

- I hope you’re not a picky eater – Joking, Eliza placed the dish at his side, sitting across him in the floor, her own plate in hands.

-… - After some seconds of he not making a single move to grab his food the woman started wondering if he was waiting for her to go away before eating.

Thankfully, as she was thinking about how to get up and go away without embarrassing herself ever more, he took his plate into his lap and slowly started eating, eyes now fixated on his food.

It was a weird puree with some kind of meat, small vegetables at the side, all carefully chopped, since knives and forks weren’t allowed to the inmates. Eliza couldn’t complain much, it was one of the best things she had eaten since arriving there, but that didn’t mean a lot.

Myers, on the other hand, seemed to hate it. His face revealed absolutely nothing, but he carefully separated the vegetables from the rest of the food, taking small portions to his mouth.

The detective shoved the whole meal into her mouth as always, leaving her time enough to inspect the man’s moves; his slow chewing, followed by some seconds of nothingness, and then taking the spoon to his mouth, cycle repeating again and again.

It made her remember Yatter; he would eat so calmly, as if he had all the time in the world. Huh, who would say that Michael Myers was so common after all.

#michael myers #fluff #halloween #fanfic #fanfiction #michael myers x oc #english is not my first language #Please be gentle #slashers #slasher fandom #slasher fanfiction #slasher x reader #slasher x oc #the shape #halloween movie #michael myers fanfic

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cassiartblog · 2 years

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Just a monster? a Michael Myers fanfiction

Summery: Michael Myers has been incarcerated in Smiths Grove for 40 years when a supposedly dangerous murderess moves into his room. A kind of protective instinct comes over the Haddonfield killer. But how it has to happen, he is relocated, breaks out and we know what follows. But are so many deaths really inevitable? Or does Michael not only change himself, but also the young Alyssa?

Warnings: violence, language, maybe some upcoming smut, slow burn

Arc 1 Smiths Grove

chapter 1

"Don't you think he's going to kill her?" the guard's question boomed through the corridors of the sanitarium. "We all know what he's capable of. But do you think we can just leave him in solitary confinement forever? He has a right to society." The Warden was unsure what to think about the Doc's decisions. If Loomis were still here, he would never have allowed this to happen. But Loomis was no more.

10 a.m. showed the clock above the door. The ticking of it was Michael's only background noise in his room. He sat waiting on the edge of his bed. The guard should have been there by now to pick him up for his weekly therapy session. He's never been picked up too late. And his doc has never skipped a session of bugging him about his former victims. He never said anything or showed any emotion, but the Doc always had something to write down. In four months he would be transferred. Then the regular meetings were over. The new institution gave no value to its patients. They just made sure nobody got out and didn't die of malnutrition. They didn't care about the rest. This seemed to annoy his doctor, but Michael didn't care. It didn't matter to him whether he sat in the room all day or stood outside in the yard. What food he got. The sun was shining outside. Michael stared out of his barred window as usual. Opposite him was a new bed that the cleaning staff had put in the last time. Michael had been in that room alone for 40 years, but he still knew what the new bed meant. But if he cared in any way, he didn't show it.Footsteps could be heard and shortly afterwards the rustling of a bunch of keys. The door to his cell opened and Dr. Sartain stood in the doorway. Close behind him were two guards with a young woman. She wore the same clothes as Michael. He hadn't expected anything specific, but men and women were actually kept separate. So why this exception? However, he gave no sign that he was thinking about it, but continued to stare stubbornly out of the window. Sartain walked into the room. "I have a little surprise for you, Michael." He waved in the direction of the guards, who then let the woman into the room. "She's staying here with you from now on, Michael. But be careful. She's dangerous. Her Name is Alyssa Johnson." And with those words, everyone left the room except for Michael and the woman. She didn't look dangerous. Rather scared. Was it him? Of course, what else? Everyone was afraid of him. She walked slowly towards her new bed and lay down rather stiffly. She had directed her gaze at the ceiling so she had Michael in the corner of her eye. He noticed that, but didn't show it.

Two weeks passed and the young woman thawed a little. While at first she kept as far away as possible, she now even sat next to him in the yard and at meals. Sartain made sure the two were always together. She was even chained with him in the yard. No safety distance, nothing. Michael stayed absolutely still. He didn't intentionally scare her, nor did he show if he cared that she was thawing out more and less distant. Sartain seemed amazed. But actually he should have known that there would be no reaction from Michael. He wanted Michael to show some sort of reaction. Maybe even what said. But neither an attempt to keep the woman away nor any other reaction followed the entry of the woman into Michael's room. The two stood in the yard. Chains attached to both, the girl sat with her eyes closed inches from the former Haddonfield engraver. No sign that it could bother him. Michael stood there calmly and stared into the distance. Alyssa now had her eyes open again and was scratching the stones with her and Michaels chains. Michael felt the chains holding him in place move. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her carve little patterns into the stones. The other patients had all turned in her direction and were shouting unpleasant teases at her. Michael was surprised that none of the guards intervened. But it didn't interest what the patients said to her. The only thing that bothered him was that everyone was looking at them. The woman seemed a bit uncomfortable because she hid a little bit behind Michael. Sartain observed the scene attentively. He could quickly explain to himself that she was looking to Michael for protection. Alyssa knew what Michael was capable of. The psychiatrist had made sure she knew that. But Michael hadn't done anything to her. He had made no attempt to harm her in any way. That made the woman feel safe with him. Sartain couldn't say whether she was safe with him, but at the moment Michael was the only one standing between the other patients and her. The chains would stop them, of course, but Michael's tall frame also somewhat hid the unobstructed view of the young woman. And Michael just stood there and let her crouch behind his form. Even closer than before.

"You think he'll protect you?" yelled one of the detainees. Another yelled, "As soon as he gets the chance, he'll rip you to pieces, little bitch." Some patients became abusive after failing to meet any of the hook-ups. Michael heard every word. He felt her crawl a little closer to him and hide behind his right leg. He saw her pained expression in the corner of his eye and wondered again why nobody intervened. "It won't give you security, little one. But you'll be safe with me," came the voice of another patient from further back in the corner of the courtyard. He grinned dirty at the woman, who then buried her face in Michael's leg and clung to him. It was nothing unfamiliar for Michael.It's been like this for about 3 days and he kept wondering why nobody stepped in. And again he let her cling to his leg without a reaction. In the beginning she was scared as hell of him and not sleeping at night either, which Michael not only noticed at night, but also noticed from her dark circles under her eyes for the first few days, and now she saw him as a protection. As someone who won't hurt her and maybe even protect her. That kind of attention didn't know Michael before. People were afraid of him. Or curious like Sartain. But nobody had ever seen him as a protector, let alone dared to get that close without guards to watch over him that Michael didn't try anything.

This is how time passed in the yard. The detainees kept shouting at Alyssa and she continued to bury her face in Michael's leg. He hadn't even tried to push her away. No, he just left her with him. That surprised Sartain even more than the fact that he hadn't shown any reaction to her before. The time was up and the guards began taking the patients back to their rooms one by one. Michael would come last, as always. Or rather he and his roommate. She hadn't let go of him yet and only did so when the guards now approached her and Michael. The chains were loosened from the reinforced concrete floor. The two patients were still connected by the chains when they were taken to their room. It was only there that they were taken from them and left alone. The heavy steel door fell shut and was bolted. The woman lay down on her bed and stared at the ceiling. She hadn't talked much since she'd been here. Maybe she was adjusting to Michael, or maybe she didn't talk that much on her own. Now and then she would whisper a thank you in his direction when they came into her room from the yard. There was never a reaction from him, but that didn't stop her from saying thank you every time.

She looked up at the clock. In about 30 minutes they were taken to dinner. Both of them spent the meantime sitting or lying on their beds. Alyssa slept a lot, at least since she felt safer in Michael's presence. There was nothing to do here, so he assumed she was sleeping out of boredom. He, on the other hand, looked out of the window or at the opposite wall most of the time. Every now and then he looked at her to see if she was still asleep. But now she sat up straight again, waiting for the dinner escort. The night before, she asked the guard if she could get something to write. He only said that he could not leave any sharp objects in their hands unobserved. She then whispered that she was innocent, but the guard just snorted derisively. Michael didn't know why she was there, but she didn't look crazy or dangerous. Instead, she was quiet and reserved. But she was very bored. Once she had spent an hour shaking up her bed. This took so long because she did it three times in a row. Eventually she threw herself on the bed and messed everything up again. The desperation was written on her face. He could swear he heard her cry sometimes at night. Michael got up and went to her. Surprised she looked up at him. A touch of fear rose in her eyes. He had never shown any reaction towards her and now he was approaching her? Did she annoy him? Would he kill her now? She was too scared to act. She stared at him motionless, just hoping it would be quick. But he didn't hurt her. True? He stretched out his right hand to her. His good blue eye fixed her, but she couldn't see any emotion in his gaze. He put his hand on her chin. He seemed to be looking for something. He looked at her absently and held her chin in a firm grip. She dared not move, even though she had regained the ability. All she did was look back at him. She had never looked at him that closely. She was always afraid that this would make him angry. At least she knew how angry he'd gotten when his mask was taken away. Or so she had heard. She was too young to have seen Halloween night in 1978. That was 40 years ago now. And she was in her mid-twenties at most.

Michael released his hand but didn't look away. Both stared at each other in silence. When he had his hand on her chin, he could clearly feel her rapid heartbeat. He had startled her. But she relaxed a bit now. In her eyes he could see a thousand question marks. Confusion was evident in her gray eyes. Her pupils were still slightly dilated from the shock, but that also subsided. Michael enjoyed her reaction, but on the other hand, he had no intention of startling her. But now he had the answers he wanted. A young woman who was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, she really was innocent and didn't belong in this institution. Was it pity he felt? A feeling he didn't know, but she was being punished for something she hadn't done. Her lawyer seemed to try everything to prove her innocent, but he could not prevent the arrest. She was brought here, notorious for being extremely dangerous. But what did they hope to lock up together with him? Did the hope he would kill her? Or the other way around? But she was safe. She couldn't hurt him even if she tried. And Michael had no intention of harming her. She wasn't in his way and she wasn't his typical victim either. Nothing about her made him want to get rid of her. No drive to raze them to the ground. There were many who believed he would kill at random. But only he knew the answer. She lowered her gaze a little, causing Michael to tilt his head slightly. Was their eye contact uncomfortable? She hadn't looked anyone in the eye for more than 3 seconds before.Only the look just lasted longer. But now she sat in front of him with her eyes downcast and now found her tiptoes very interesting. Michael didn't turn away, though. He was examining her properly now. Before, he had only watched her out of the corner of his eye. Now he had the opportunity to examine her properly. Was that uncomfortable for her? She wore the same patient clothing as he did. He could see that this was not cut for women. Her dark blonde hair fell somewhat disheveled over her shoulders. She was quite short compared to him, but she must have been around 1.65m or 1.70m. She wore no jewelry except for a small bracelet on her right wrist. It was a plain black ribbon. She had taken off her slippers and her feet were dangling from the bed. The beds weren't low, but he could easily touch the floor when he was sitting. She got a little nervous again. He stood so close to her that their knees almost touched. He enjoyed it when others were afraid, even if he didn't show it, but in this case he didn't enjoy it anymore. He didn't do anything to her and yet she became more restless again. Was it the uncertainty? She didn't know what he wanted from her.

The lock clicked and the door opened. Two guards stood in the doorway. Her gaze wandered to these, but Michael didn't take his eyes off their small form. "Step back, Myers," one of the guards said gruffly. Michael took a step back and was now also looking in the direction of the door. His expression, as always, undefinable to have the chains put on. Michael followed close behind her. They were led into the dining room and they sat down at their table, to which they were also chained. Alyssa had sat down again next to Michael and tried to ignore the eyes of the others. The patients all ate together in one room. It was obvious that Alyssa would have preferred to eat in her room. Outside the room she was tense, a tension that Michael was always aware of. To minimize contact between the patients, the food was distributed to the tables. In normal prisons, food was taken from the counter, Alyssa knew from the television. She ate slowly, like her roommate, but with her it was to be distracted for as long as possible. This allowed her to somewhat ignore the spells thrown at her. Michael usually ate rather slowly. When he was done, he pushed the tablet away from him and stared at the edge of the table on the other side. Alyssa was now finished and looked at his tablet. She then looked at Michael uncertainly. "Are you still eating this?" she asked him, her expression shy and wary. He made no response. She looked down at her hands and didn't ask again. Michael had left his jelly. He didn't eat his dessert often. Usually, the kitchen helpers would throw away the remaining food without saying a word. The tall man looked from the edge of the table to his pudding and then to the woman. He took it and put it in front of her nose. She looked up at him in surprise. A small smile curled her lips. The first time he saw her smile. It was a warm smile, Michael noticed. "Thanks, Michael," she said, reaching for the mug and a spoon that were still on her tablet. Michael looked at her for a moment and then turned his gaze back to the edge of the table.

That's how the next few days went. They spent most of the time together in silence. Michael gave her his dessert and let her cling to his leg in the yard when the ranting picked up again. She relaxed more and more in his presence.

#michael myers x oc #halloween2018 #peepaw myers #halloween kills

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demona-andariel · 9 months

Text

Object of Obsession - 8 / 46

Fandom: Halloween

Pairing: Michael Myers x OFC

Warnings: (Encompassing the whole story in no particular order) kidnapping, noncon, explicit sexual content, smut, loss of virginity, rough sex, blood and violence, knifeplay, canon-typical violence

Author Note: Minors DNI!

Word Count: 3,042

Chapter 8 - A Little Walk, A Little Talk

“Could you get me some camomile tea bags?” Her request as well as her name kept running through his brain. Gretchen. He never thought about her name. Why would he? He didn’t have friends, wouldn’t talk about her, wouldn’t talk to her. If she thought he’d whisper sweet words, or talk dirty to her she was delusional. And yet, he now knew her name. Not that it mattered, it didn’t change things between them.

The sensation of being watched brought him out of his musings. He followed the feeling till his focus landed on a treehouse in the backyard of the house across from where he was stalking. His breathing deepened as his eyes stared back intently at the person who was watching him.

A little boy stared back at him wide-eyed with terror “safe” in his little treehouse. Michael felt amused. Even from afar, he could feel the kid’s rightful fear. His breathing deepened in anticipation as he squeezed the handle of his knife. His brain perked up with excitement, feeding off the kid’s fear.

He wasn’t going to kill the kid. It wasn’t a moral thing. There was just no need. Their fear was easy, and they weren’t much of a chase, much of a game.

“Jeff? Jeff! Where are you?” a woman’s voice shouted.

Michael kept his eyes locked on the little boy who seemed petrified with fear. Was he holding something? Some sort of child’s weapon as comfort, perhaps? How amusing

“Jeffery Sean Amelaner!” the woman yelled as she stormed over to the treehouse.

The moment the kid broke eye contact Michael moved. He watched in fascination from another part of the property, just out of the woman’s sight, but still with a good view of the two.

“Mommy!” the boy cried out as he practically jumped from the treehouse into his mother’s arms.

“Jesus, Jeffery!” she coughed, staggering in an attempt to find her balance.

The child whispered something in her ear, making her swiftly turn around. Her eyes scanned the darkness, looking for Michael. Her arms tightly protectively over her son’s body as she took cautious steps back, making her she was on the lookout for possible danger. How amusing.

She let the boy down and opened the back sliding door. He rushed inside. She didn’t move as quickly. Scanning the darkness for the threat. A crooked smile crossed his lips. She would make an interesting target. Judging by her body language alone she was a fighter. She’d give a good chase. Perhaps another day.

He made a mental note of her house, marking it in his mind to return to before strolling away, into the darkness. He huffed.

“I hope you don’t get to kill anyone today,” her hurried last-minute statement followed by the slam of her door almost made him go to her room for an “apology”. But the killer part in him pulled him away from the house and her. Who was he to deny his other desire? She wasn’t going anywhere. He’d punish her when he got back.

Michael paused beside another house and examined his knife. There was blood on it, but not of a person. He’d killed a dog. He planned to kill the owner, and he had to get the dog out of the way. But the moment the dog was dead he heard a siren. It didn’t frighten him, he had no problem trying to deal with the police. But it made him think, which caused him to wander.

His killing spree was always cut short by meddling do-gooders. And, although it wasn’t a big deal before now he wasn’t quite yet prepared to disappear. He had no idea how things worked and he didn’t need to know. But, if he disappeared she would be “free” of him. He could already see himself returning, stalking, and finding her. Years would have passed and she’d probably be married, and have a family and she wouldn’t want him.

He licked his lips. No, he wasn’t quite yet ready for her to leave his life yet. She’d swallowed his cum without him even forcing her to. It was all on her. She could have spat his cum out to show her disgust, could have glared at him. But her eyes were bright with mischief as she swallowed before they widened in surprise. Why did she do that? It made him rather curious. And he wanted to see her do it again.

Her initiative only confirmed what his mind was suspecting. She wanted him. She kept fighting it, which amused him. But, the way she clutched onto his arm when he slipped his fingers through her labia. It wasn’t to stop him but to hold on. That look she gave him when she leaned back, pressing her body against him, it was a silent begging for him not to stop. She was so slick. He wanted to throw her over his shoulder and carry her up to her room so he could lick her with ease. But, that would require him taking off his mask.

He paused, bringing up his right hand. Much like his recollection of every kill he had made, he could vividly recall her inner wall feeling as he explored her with his fingers. He had been curious, testing how long would it take her to last on her tip-toes before she relented to having his finger in her. It didn’t last nearly as long as he thought it would. But then again, the way she moved and acted, the look in her eyes, it should have told him what was going to happen. And, in the back of his mind he knew. He was just mesmerized. Her muscles tensing, her pussy spasming around his fingers, he needed to know what that felt like around his cock.

There was a bit of curiosity why she wanted the lube. He did rather enjoy the feeling of her hand and how it moved with the lube clearly helping her when she stroked his shaft. He didn’t regret putting some on before fucking her again. The slide-in was amazingly easy and smooth. The unfortunate thing was he didn’t get her to spasm over his cock. But he wasn’t worried, he was able to easily reach his end, maybe next time. There was no rush.

A high pitch whistling sound interrupted his thoughts. He paused in his steps, easily spotting the annoyance. A woman picked up a teapot from a stove and set it to one side. Her movements were easy to follow from the big window she stood in front of. A man, more than likely her husband or boyfriend, snuck up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, making her shriek and then laugh in happiness before they kissed.

He huffed, moving away from that scene. Boyfriend, boyfriend, boyfriend. He cocked his head as a curious thought ran through his mind. Focus. It took him some time before he finally made it back to the original site. He stilled, pausing in the exact spot he stood in where he had spied the two in the car. There were no cars in Lover’s Lane, no lovers having sex, their lucky day to have avoided him. She probably would consider it her unlucky day.

Little did she know that her car was in his possession. He had it safely hidden away for his use. Unless she assumed since he did give her back her duffle bag that was stored in her car. He didn't need a car, it was just a convenience for him, not something he would use often. He rather liked walking.

He leisurely walked around the scene, although there were no clear markings. His brain was sufficient enough. He huffed. She had accidentally pushed her would-be-lover toward his doom. The young man had been caught unawares and didn’t really put up much of a fight. Instead of trying to fight Michael off, the young man had desperately grabbed at Gretchen as she tried to help him back into the car.

Sure, Michael had surprised the young man, but his fear was his undoing, petrifying him. Michael could still feel his knife easily slide into the man’s chest. A smaller version of the satisfying high and ecstasy that he had received from that kill coursed through his body. He wasn’t sure why. The young man didn’t put up much of a fight. His fake knight’s armor just added to the feeling of disgust at what a simple kill it was. But his enjoyment was almost extra special, extra satisfying.

And then there was Gretchen. She ran kicking in his chase instincts, she fought back despite her fear. She continued to fight back, although her fighting back now was a bit different in nature. His small smile at the enjoyment of their game slipped a little.

Unfortunately, she’d done something he hadn’t seen yet and it bothered him. After fucking her, knowing even she had thoroughly enjoyed herself, her mood had changed. She’d gone from the fighter and resister to almost a shell of her own being. He didn’t like it. And he didn’t know what had brought that on. But for the briefest of moments, his killer side perked up. His knife, so close behind her, easy to grab, easy to use. Seeing the sudden flare of anger burn in her eyes when he touched her cheeks appeased him. She was still a fighter, still a resister, and still wouldn’t make it easy for him, not the broken shell that had momentarily taken over her.

A smell caught his attention. Michael turned around and headed into the woods. He didn’t have to go very far. The strong smell of a decomposing body permeated the air. He paused then crouched, far enough away for the smell not to overpower him, but close enough to see. No one had found the young man yet. It wasn’t that Michael had hidden the body particularly well either. His goal in dumping the body into the woods was just to give him a little bit of extra time to kill people before all hell broke loose. But, he had expected the body to be found already. Did anyone even miss him? Did anyone miss her? Did she have a family? He frowned.

He didn’t care. So what if she had a family? They wouldn’t find her, and if they did he’d only get her back. He had no problem killing her family the same way he’d killed her boyfriend. She was his now.

Idiot, he thought as he stood up and left the body in the forest. How could a small thing like her put up more of a fight than her strong, fit boyfriend?

The scars on Gretchen’s-

Michael stilled as her name popped into his head. Gretchen. His breathing deepened. No. Do not think it.

The scars on her stomach, the ones not made by him, were bad but extremely attractive. It just proved that she was a fighter. She’d survived something that clearly had been traumatic. Traumatic enough to make her self-conscious about them. Sure, they weren't made by him, but he still liked them. Maybe it was because of the way she fought back when touched them. Her resistance. Yeah, he liked that about her. The little things he kept discovering while dealing with her kept adding more locks to the door that would have freed her from him.

The sun started to peak out, and his body pulled him back home. Damn, it was a long way back. The last time he'd gone home he had used her car. Oh well, she wasn't going anywhere.

Nathan paced back and forth in his apartment, the sun was barely rising but he was wide awake. What was wrong with her? It was as if she purposefully decided to leave no trace as to where she’d gone. Her bank account hadn’t been touched other than the monthly withdrawals to pay her rent and utilities to her apartment in Chicago. At least she would have been kind enough to forward her mail to her new address. Nope! She hadn’t forwarded it anywhere. She’d put a hold on her mail. Three months. Three full months had passed since she’d done it.

His eyes shifted to his cellphone. He needed to call his father. He didn’t want to. Her phone had started going to voicemail shortly after he visited her apartment. His father would soon call him because of that. He preferred the thought that she had blocked him over her being in trouble. He rubbed his left shoulder. She wasn’t dead. He knew that. She was too stubborn to die. Denial. God, she was good at that. She could probably deny her way back to life. Just refuse to believe she was dead.

He glanced at his cellphone again. It had only been two days since he’d contacted his “friends” to find her. As much as he wanted results quickly enough, he knew it took time. “Just hang on, Gretch,” he mumbled, although he wasn’t entirely sure she was in trouble. A part of him still hoped she’d found someone and just wanted to fuck him in peace or something before reappearing as if nothing had happened.

Her twenty-third birthday was coming up. And whether she liked it or not, he was going to find her before then. She had to have said something before she “disappeared”. A clue, somewhere. There were hundreds of Brandons in the world and it would take some time to find the face to match her drawing. Getting the last known location for her cellphone was still in the works. He had some strings, but not nearly as many as his father did.

“Fuck, Gretch. Where’d you go?” he growled. He shifted through her mail, tossing the spam letters onto the ground. His body grew cold when he saw a familiar package. “Shit, fuck, shit! Please, Gretch. Don’t let this be what I think it is.” He tentatively reached out and picked up the package. Tapping it with his fingers for a moment, he willed himself to open it, dumping out the contents onto the table.

“Fuck! Gretchen!” he yelled at nothing. A very familiar pill bottle landed on the table. He picked up the full three months' worth of medication with his left hand shaking his head. She had to have expected to return back home before running out. She knew how important it was for her to take them. She could get away with taking one a day for a short while, but if she quit, stopped altogether, she would lose her god-damn fucking mind.

He absentmindedly rubbed his left shoulder with his right hand as a throbbing pain pulsed through it. What if she’d already lost her mind? Bringing his right hand down, he tapped his fingers on the table.

“Fuck,” he whispered again. He needed to involve his father. He didn’t want to. He was going to be so pissed. But he had better connections than Nathan. He’d be able to find her quickly if she somehow wound up in a mental hospital for being such an idiot. She always complained about the pills, hating them, saying she didn’t feel right. But she had to take them.

Grabbing his cellphone, he dialed his father’s number and held the phone up to his ear. He steeled himself. There was no going back. His father needed to know.

“Hello, Nathan,” his father answered. Fuck! He knew. The tone of his voice already had a firmness to it.

“Hey, dad,” he replied, hating how soft his own voice was. He felt like a small child about to be reprimanded.

“Where is she?”

Despite preparing himself, Nathan still felt chills run through his body. “I… I don’t know,” he replied. “I just found out a couple days ago. I’ve been sending my guys out. But, she did a really good job of practically disappearing. Only real clue I got is this drawing she made of a guy named Brandon. I’ll send you a copy.”

“Okay,” his father replied. “Anything else?”

“It’s been three months,” Nathan said. He felt like a failure.

His father let out a heavy sigh. “Alright, well, I know I talked to her a little over a week ago, and she was alright then.”

“Same,” Nathan said in agreement.

“Anything else?”

Nathan stared at the full bottle of pills. “Yeah,” he finally admitted. “I’ve got a full bottle of her pills in my hand.”

There was a long pause before his father let out a heavy sigh.

“You don’t think-” Nathan started to ask, but his father interrupted him.

“You know she’s done this once before, Nate,” his father said with another heavy sigh. “I’ll search hospitals. Do you have an idea of where she has gone?”

Nathan shook his head, even though his father couldn’t see him. “Not yet,” he said. “I’ve got my contacts on it.”

“Good.” The way he said it made Nathan frown. He wasn’t sure why.

“I’ll let you know if I find her in a hospital so you can go to her with her pills.”

“Okay,” Nathan replied. “I’ll let you know if I find her, or at least what city or town she could have gone to.”

“Alright,” his father said.

Nathan’s shoulder sagged slightly. “Sorry, dad.” The words slipped out before he could stop them.

“It’s alright, son,” his father replied. “Last time we were able to stop her. This time we weren’t so lucky. I’m sure it won’t happen again.”

He nodded in agreement even though his father couldn’t see him.

“Check her apartment again, Nate. She’s pretty good at hiding things when she wants to.”

“Well, her apartment was pretty empty, but I’ll give it another thorough check.” He shifted uncomfortably as a small silence engulfed their conversation. “Don’t worry, dad. We’ll find her alive.”

“I know,” his father replied. “She’s too stubborn to die.”

They both let out a pained chuckle.

“I’m going to make my calls now. Goodbye, son. Love you.”

“Bye, dad. Love you, too.” Nathan set his cellphone on the table and stared at the pills again. He should have called his father the moment he found out she was missing. He had wasted two days. “We’re going to find you soon, Gretchen,” he said, clenching the bottle. “You’ll be okay.”

Chapter 9 - Dining Room Chat

#michael myers x oc #Smut #horror #noncon tw #Slashers #fanfiction #michael myers fanfic #tw noncon

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