Kill For Me (Michael Myers x male!reader)

"I'm not mad."

Another week had passed and Michael hadn't stopped disappearing at night. I brought it up to him multiple times and yet he didn't seem to care. If anything he was calmer, happier, more of a gentle giant when he was with me. Who knew murder could calm a man down? Me and Michael where sitting at the kitchen table, he was diligently working his hands across papier-mâché making new masks. I watched him as I drew. I never asked where he got these things, he probably stole them. The other day Michael woke me up with a surprise of multiple sketchbooks, paint, pencils, and canvases. I smiled as I watched his intense focus on the mask. I put my pencil down and sighed looking at the piece. A simple sketch of my favorite oc. I was bored out of my mind. "Wanna watch tv?" I asked standing up and shoving my chair in. He nodded brushing the glue from his hands onto his blue sweatpants. Blue looked good on him.

He was wearing blue sweatpants and a black tank top showing off his strong arms and scars that littered them. We walked into the living room plopping down on the sofa with Michael next to me. I wrapped my arms around his large one. I wondered how he felt about the touch, he didn't react. I smiled lovingly towards his adorable face. "Ready to hear the daily dose of your crimes?" I said reaching for the tv remote and flicking it on. A few times a day the local news station would talk about the escape and crimes connected.

I sighed leaning my head against his shoulder and squeezed his arm. "A horrific update on Michael Myers, kill counts rising to the 30's as locals began to call the masked murderer "the shape". And now a section from local Laurie Strode." The woman on the tv reported passing the mic to a young blond woman. Michael completely froze staring at the tv before standing up and pushing me away from him. I watched raising an eyebrow as he walked towards the tv standing incredibly close. I got up walking to stand next to him. "What's wrong?" He didn't answer. The woman began to speak. "Hello. My name is Laurie Strode and as some of you know Michael Myers is my brother-" the broadcast was cut off as Michael slammed his fist into the screen causing it to shatter and his fist going straight through the tv. "MICHAEL? WHAT THE FUCK?" I snapped snatching his arm and attempting to pull it from the shattered glass. Michael pulled his fist out letting out a deep huff of anger. I took his hand examining the damage, bits of glass stuck from multiple cuts covering his fist. His blood smeared across my much smaller hands.

Michael didn't even seemed bothered by the amount of blood he was losing. He looked down at me, angry, sad, yet emotionless. "Oh god Michael... you need stitches." I tugged him towards the bathroom as he followed me down the hallway. I opened the door and made Michael sit on the edge of the tub. He looked at the floor, disappointed in himself. I opened the cabinet below the sink looking for anything I could use to clean the wounds. Luckily a first aid kit sat in the cabinet. I picked it up and opened it, taking out bandages, antiseptic, and a needle and thread. I wasn't excited about this, but I knew it had to be done considering medical care wasn't an option for us. I turned back to him. "Give me your hand." I ordered taking it and picking glass from the cuts. I grabbed a rag and wiped away the blood. My own hands turning into a red metallic smelling disaster. I took the needle and thread meeting Michael's eyes.

"This is gonna hurt. Probably a lot." I cringed bringing the needle towards a particularly wide gash across his pointer and middle knuckles. Michael stared down at me rather intensely. "Ready?" I asked. He nodded slowly. It was a messy stitch but I did my best to close the wound, Michael didn't even flinch or make a single sound during the ordeal. "There." I sighed taking my shaky hands away. Michael flexed his hand before signing a quick thank you. I turned Turing on the fausset and washing the blood away before quickly wrapping bandages across his hand. "You need to be more careful. I know you're angry about whoever that woman was but holy fuck you need to be careful. I can't have you punching stuff when you're mad." I rambled. I don't think Michael was even listening as he cocked his head to the side. 'I'm not mad.' He signed. I let out a sigh, no point in arguing with him over it, he didn't know his own emotions. Michael put his non wounded hand over mine squeezing it tightly, "calm down." He said sweetly. I couldn't help but smile. Fuck I think I love this man.