🔪~How The Tables Have Turned~🔪

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Michael Myers x Male Reader




Michael Myers did not fear anything.

At least he didn't till you came along.

He  looked at you, his horrified expression hidden behind his mask, as you  grasped your side trying desperately to keep back the crimson fluid  trying desperately to escape. Face twisted in agony you reached out to  Michael and he quickly responded moving to you his movements seemed  different from his usual confident strides but you hardly noticed as the  blood loss was getting to you. Holding you with care Michael quickly  swept you off your feet carrying you to the bathroom in your small  apartment.

Your bottom met with the cold porcelain of your  counter as Michael rummaged through the cupboards before pulling out an  old, but frequently used, medical kit. A lazy smile settled on your face  as you watched your lover shakily patch you up.

"M' sorry bout  this Michael, didn't mean ta scare ya." your words were slightly  slurred. Michael didn't have time to process your words, the adrenaline  rush causing him to be hyper focused as he attempted to sew you up using  a sterile needle he found in the kit.

Why was this so hard, you  always made it look easy. Michael thought as he heard a sharp intake of  pain from above. Your head lolled back and you tried to focus on  anything but the needle trying to hold you together. After Michael  deemed he'd done all he could he grabbed a roll of bandages and  haphazardly wrapped up your injuries, a few parts sagging but it would  work for now.

A relieved sigh left your mouth when Michael stood,  grabbing your chin as he examined your face and neck for any injuries  he might have missed. You looked fine.

This was hell.

Your entire torso was soar and you could barely move without causing a flash of pain to consume you.

It's  been a few days since you were stabbed and you were currently laying in  your bed shirtless. Your wound was on display and it was only getting  uglier and uglier as time passed, the area surrounding the line of  stitches was a multitude of reds and purples.

"Michael!" you  called out barely hiding your distressed whimper as the pain started up  again. The killer practically knocked the door down as he ran into the  bedroom, his mask was off and the panic was clear on his face as his  eyes scanned the room for any threats. A strangled laugh left your lips. 

Ever since you returned Michael had been extra protective and  alert, he barely left your side and constantly hovered around you  instantly jumping to tend to any needs you may have. It was almost  comical to see the sudden change in behavior that your injury had  brought, before you would've gotten immediately shut down if you would  have asked the stoic man for anything that wasn't in arms reach and now  Michael was willing to go across town just to get you pain meds.

Speaking of pain meds.

After  the man realized that you were in need of pain relief he quickly went  downstairs before returning with the white pills that would grant you a  moment of painless bliss. You swallowed the pills quickly all the while  Michael watched you.

You were so unused to having Michael taking  care of you. It was a strange thing to you, mainly because you were  always the one taking care of Michael. So many times  Michael had come  home in the same, or more often worse, condition than you had and you'd  quickly patch him up and get him to bed to rest and heal, but now  Michael was the one in charge.

A few minutes later the throbbing slightly subsided now just a dull ache, contently you sighed and closed your eyes.

The  bed dipped behind you and Michael pulled you into his arms protectively  before hiding his face in the crook of your neck, ticking you slightly  as the brown curls brushed against your exposed skin. You were shocked  by the sudden show of physical affection, it was nice.

"Maybe I  should get stabbed more offen." you joked as you pushed yourself back to  the man holding you burying yourself further in his embrace.

He  bit you, it wasn't hard enough to break skin but it did cause you to  flich. "Got it, no more getting stabbed. Sorry love." satisfied with  your answer Michael kissed the spot on your neck that he bit you letting  you know he forgave you for your poorly timed attempt at humor.

The  added warmth that Michael provided was welcome and intoxicating and you  soon found yourself slowly lulled to sleep, as you drifted off you felt  a pair of chapped lips on yours.

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