Slasher Imagines

The Rose and The Thorn| Michael Myers

Request: So I had a dream last night that I was dr. Loomis' grandkid but I was a patient at smiths grove and was the only one who was nice to Michael. So Michael takes an interest in me (feeling mutual tbh) and tries to keep close but then he finds out I'm related to loomis. Well instead of getting upset he kicks things up to an 11 and makes is interest obvious because he know loomis probably won't do anything seeing as this is the most responsive he's ever been. When u get time can you write for this?

Warnings: vivid details of mental illnesses such as ocd, depression, and excoriation disorder based off of my personal experiences with such disorders. If you are going through a mental illness, please seek out the resources available for your state/ country, doctor Loomis being a jerk.

The white walls glared back into your orbs of (e/c) as you tried to gain control over the fact that you're trapped in a room where there's so many germs that's digging into your flesh. You haven't seen the outside world for what seemed like days- two days, six hours, twenty nine minutes and thirty nine seconds exactly.

Your mentally cursed your parents for deciding to send you to the lovely Smith's Grove because they thought you were a threat to yourself apparently.
The fingernails scraped the flesh on your thing bittersweet as small droplets of blood appeared; the oh so familiar crimson blood on your irritated skin calmed you down as you hear the door open.

'Two days, six hours, fifty seven minutes and thirty seconds.' You noted mentally as the security guard cleared his throat, turning your attention to the gentleman.

"(Mr./ Ms.) Loomis, it's time for breakfast." Your dull (e/c) eyes looked at the guard's as you got out of the uncomfortable bed. The well worn thin sandals were the only protection for your feet from the cold floor as you took some steps towards the guard.

Soft sounds of the jingling of the chains restraining your body echoes through the hall as the guard guided you towards the dinning room.

The first things that you saw when you entered the dinning room was the way that the tables weren't perfectly aligned and the male sitting alone at one of the back tables. It took you everything to not lash out because of the disorder.

There was something about the man sitting alone that lured you in as if you were a moth going towards the light. You waiting in line for your food, seeing the cooks scoop chunks of what was assumed to be food onto the plastic tray.

'I want to rip whoever thought it was a good idea for having the tables this way eyeballs out and shove it down their throats.' You shuddered anxiously from the unpleasant thought as the cook handed the tray to you with her gloved hands. It took you everything in your power to not have an anxiety attack in the middle of the dinning room.

You walked towards his looming form with your tray in hand as you feel the germs from the tray now tainted your hands. Laying your tray onto the opposite side of the bigger male, you cleared your throat softly.

"Excuse me sir, is this seat taken?" The male looked up at you, his eyes were dull and dead- yet so beautiful.

"I'm sorry to bother you, I just thought you were lonely and I don't know anyone here. I'm (y/n) by the way." You continued with a small smile as you sat down. He continued to glare into your eyes as if he's trying to see through your words.

Avoiding the soggy sandwich that you knew that it was contaminated, you opened the small container of chocolate pudding carefully, as if your life depended on it.

"I like your mask. Did you make it yourself?" You mention nonchalantly, a soft rosy blush rose on your cheek as he crooks his head to the side out of confusion.

Michael was curious about you to say the least. How could you be so fearless- or reckless and try to be polite to him? Why weren't you afraid of him to the point of even complimenting his mask? He was interested in you to say the least.

As you look back down to the wooden table, the positions of the contents of your tray were crooked. You quickly organized the tray as if it was casual. Michael observed the way you made the contents of your tray perfectly horizontal with the tiny piece of napkin.

"Would you like my sandwich? I wasn't going to eat it anyway." You offered the sandwich to him.

Michael gently grabbed the sandwich from your tray as he muttered a "Thank you." His voice was a mixture of the rough, baritone rumble that was oddly soothing and a soft raspiness from not speaking for many years.

Observing from the security station, Samuel Loomis stood beside one of the armed security guards. He watched as you sat at the table with Michael.

"Should we separate them, Loomis? This is your grandchild that's sitting with him." One of the guards asked, trying to conceal the worry tone of his voice.

"No, it seems like Michael is reacting to (y/n)'s presence." Loomis responded as he adjusted his heavy coat and started towards the metal door.

Doctor Loomis entered through the heavy wooden doors. His crisp and cleaned suit was perfectly fitted to his body. The black leather loafers were polished to the point of shining when the bright lights of the room was lit.

Loomis made his way towards where the two of you are sitting at. Waves of anxiety flooded your body as you saw grandpa Loomis getting closer.

Michael watched your expression changed from relaxed into one of worried. Something that was inside of Michael wanted to keep you away from Loomis- from the cruel world that he knows too much about. His eyes darted towards his psychologist as if Michael wanted to kill him for making you feel uncomfortable.

"Good afternoon Michael, (y/n). I see you're taking an interest with my lovely grandchild."

Loomis sat down at the table with the two of you uninvited as he continues.

"How have you been doing, (y/n)? I see you're already making friends with another one of my patients." Loomis smiled softly, flashing his teeth softly as you looked away from him.

"I'm alright, just having the most boring two days of my entire existence until I saw Michael." You responded as your grandfather glared at you with a look of sternness.

"If you don't mind, my (y/n), I would like to speak with Michael alone." Loomis asked you as he gently touched your shoulder as one of the guards walked towards you.

Anxiety built up inside of you from how his hand touched your shoulder. You followed the older male towards your room, muttering a soft "see you later" to michael as you passed his larger form.

His eyes followed you as doctor Loomis started speaking to him, not paying attention to his psychologist talk until he mentioned your name.

"Now Michael, I see that you're interested in (y/n). It's odd because I've been your psychiatrist for many years and never once you showed any reactions. Why her?"

'Why her?' Michael thought to himself as he stared blankly at the older male. There was something peculiar about (y/n) that made him desire you. It wasn't the ever so familiar blood lust that he usually has.

It was a warm feeling that lingered as he thought more about you. You reminded him of a stray kitten, helpless and scared, yet so innocent compared to him. The fact that you were the grandchild of his psychiatrist only drove Michael further into wanting you around him, even if it pisses Loomis off.