Slasher x Reader Drabbles & Imagines ||Requests Open||

🔪~"For My Michael"~🔪

Michael Myers x Reader

   It was the end of another successful trial for Michael. He had retired to his zone, Haddonfield, where his childhood home sat. He laid on his old mattress staring blankly at the ceiling as he gripped his blade resting it on his chest. He felt no satisfaction or joy after the trial, he only felt the same numbing emptiness as he let his mind wander to his time before the seemingly endless trials. He let his mind go through what little memories he cared to hold onto and the one image that kept popping up was you. 

   The way you smiled, the way you laughed, the sound of your voice, the feel of your skin beneath his hand, and the feel of your lips on his. He let himself remember the memories you made with him and the rare fleeting emotions you instilled within him causing turmoil in his endless cycle of murder. 

   Before you, his life was simple, kill and move on. Suddenly he had a  place to come back to. A home to rest when he wasn't silencing the itch inside of him, the one that led him to many gruesome nights filled with screams of agony and blood. Instead, he filled many of his nights with shared body heat and soft kisses that left a pleasant feeling within him. 

   He still remembered the night he met you, the way you clung to him, tears staining your cheeks as you ran from your drunk boyfriend and his friends. Vividly he could remember the bruises that covered your arms and legs. The way you trembled as he reached out to you, his hands stained in your old lover's blood. That night he expected you to run,  you didn't. 

   Instead, you did the last thing he expected you to, you took his hand in your own and held it tightly. Your eyes displayed fear, no pure and utter terror yet here you were clinging to a killer. Originally he planned to rid you of that world but how could he when you were so fascinating.

   That night he inserted himself into your mundane life and you had no problems with his curiosities, to his surprise you welcomed him with open arms. For the first time in his life he felt wanted and accepted. 

   Ever since that night, he followed you around watching from afar during the day and at night when you arrived home from a stressful day he was there waiting. Most times he would be lounging on your sofa watching the door like a dog waiting for its owner to return, sometimes he would leave bloodstains when he stood to greet you but you never cared. 

   His favorite times were when you brought him something, he didn't ask for much but you insisted on buying him small things every now and then. One of his favorite things you've ever gotten him however was a small book. The both of you spent many nights together with  Michael laying on your chest as you read whatever story he wanted, he can still remember the feeling of your hands running through his hair and the sound of your soft voice as you brought the stories to life for him. 

   Not every day was as magical though he still remembers the constant pain in your eyes that you tried so hard to hide from everyone,  the nights when you would lock yourself away and silently cry, the dead look that overcame your face when no one was around, or the times he would walk into your room late at night only to see your arms covered in bandages. At first, he paid no mind to it but soon he found himself striving to make whatever hurt you go away. Every day he would strive to bring the life back into your eyes, even if it was only for a second. 

   It all confused him deeply, he was never good with feelings of his own, let alone someone else's feelings. He struggled to understand you but he didn't stop trying. 

   One night he stayed out later than usual, it was supposed to be the jogger only but a bystander happened to stumble upon the killer in the middle of his act. Then the chase started Michael loved a good chase and he quickly lost track of time. When he finished the deed it was dark out, the moon being the only thing to light his way back to you. 

   The silence that he grew accustomed to now felt suffocating to him. The loneliness made him feel uneasy.

   Slowly but surely the ruthless killer realized how much his life has shifted to revolve around you, he now felt dependent on you. This realization brought about mixed feelings. 

   That was the first night he didn't return to you. All night you stayed up worrying for the man, in the morning you cursed yourself for doing so. He was a killer after all he could take care of himself. The next night he didn't return either, you were restless. It was strange sleeping alone. Everything felt colder, emptier, darker. 

   A week has passed before Michael returned to you, he was confused at first. When he entered your home and it was silent, he looked for you but he couldn't find you. He practically tore the place apart. 

   He waited for you, you never came. You couldn't even if you wanted to. 

   Later he found out what had happened to you. His first thought was that you grew tired of him and left, that you ran away from him, no longer needed him. Those thoughts left a bitter taste in his mouth but nothing could prepare him for the truth. 

   One night you decided to go for a midnight jog and you were caught in a mugging gone wrong. At least that's what the newspaper said. 

   You died alone in a damp alleyway. 

   After you were gone Michael lost himself completely. He truly embraced the darkness that clouded his mind, he let himself go now the only thing that spurred him on was the feel of his knife plunging into his next victim. Every time he found himself fantasizing that his prey was your killer, the one who stole you from him. Ripping you from his world. 

   That's how he spent his day's murder after murder, an unrelenting cycle of violence. 

   One day however a strange fog surrounded him and pulled him in, he went willingly. He had nothing left to tie him to his world. 

   Michael opened his eyes, the ceiling of his cabin was a familiar sight. He sat up and dangled his legs off the bed. The knife he held was laid beside him as he reached under the bed before pulling out a  small book. Running his hand over the familiar cover his lips twitched a  small sad smile overtaking his face for a mere second he opened the cover and read the handwritten phrase over and over. 

        'For my Michael.'  

        -[Y/n] [L/n]  

   Your Michael, he liked the sound of that.