Oh My God This Was Amazing I-

oh my god this was amazing i-

Affection

INCLUDES MICHAEL 

I have gotten a few different requests for a softer more affectionate side of Michael so I decided to put them together and create this, a longer (almost 2k words) descriptive drabble about showering with Michael. All this talk about getting Michael to shower and what his hygiene is like had me thinking lol… Now this is deeply inspired by @slasherholic and their writing style, of course I made it my own but it is defiantly a nod to them :) Thank you for your asks and requests!.. hope you enjoy 🔪💕

MASTERLIST

There was a sting on your cool soft skin as you stepped into the blazing stream, raining down from the old head above. Through gritted teeth you bared your head back allowing the water to soak you, down your hair, trailing every muscle in your shoulders and back. Burning your flesh with a pleasent tingle from the contrast of temperatures as you had just been outside on a walk, the autumn wind was sharp kissing your face and seeping into your bones. Closing your eyes you calmed completely around the hot water, tension ebbed from your muscles and your jaw; it had been a long day, and you could not have needed this more. 

Steam flowed off your skin and out the top of the curtain like soft clouds, painting the mirror and sweating on the tiles, finally reaching the cracked door and seemingly disappearing into the night. Soft hands ran through your hair pushing away the water along the edges of your face, pooling beneath your feet and draining with quiet gurgles. 

The placid air had suddenly changed as you heard the shower curtain pull along the metal rod, screeching at the force; you did not open your eyes for you knew exactly who it was. The smell of iron, rich dirt and a firm musk coating the air, almost battling with the steam and the fresh smells of your body wash. The curtain superseded it’s own path with the same screech and crinkles, a large, mysterious presence appeared in front of you, out of the steam that seemed to billow around him. 

Opening your eyes you met his; one brown, dark and deep with a slight hint of yellow around the iris, outlined like black ink. The other scarred; a dull shade you could never decide if it was more blue or more grey, it reminded you of a thunderstorm approaching, devouring any bright sky and coating the blue in dark streaks and shadows, while his scar was in the shape of a catastrophic bolt of lighting, forking and brutally tearing through the iris; Much like the shape, a force of nature, leaving destruction in it’s wake.

Michael just watched you with a look you could never place, and sometimes you just didn’t want to know what that look meant, it was a mystery, like him; never solvable, never predictable, dangerous, and so beautiful in the hidden detail all at once. Loving this gaze was a curse and a privilege. You were one of the only people who ever got to meet these forceful eyes, see the detail in them and live. Perhaps that was his affection. 

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michael meyers dealing with a blind s/o touching his face/body pwease? would he mind them getting a feel for his size and the features they can't see

u got it!!

~

when michael first encountered you, he was taken aback. strange that he would be the one taken aback, because he’s the one that broke into your house after all.

he didn’t realize that you were blind until he clearly was in your line of sight and you didn’t react. to be honest, he fully intended on killing you once you saw him. but you never did. he stood silently watching you from the shadows, head slowly tilted to the side as he observed you.

hello? you called out. he didn’t answer. he never does.

he came by your house frequently to observe you until you noticed him and befriended him. he allowed it. he didn’t understand why he allowed it, but he did. he even childishly wrote his name in crayon for you to trace the waxy letters with your fingers to learn his name.

michael never felt unsafe. he wasn’t afraid of anything, everything was was afraid of him. but regardless, he felt safe with you. safe from prying eyes trying to study him, pick him apart, figure him out. he remembered how it felt at smith's grove.

that’s why, after a long time of being around each other, when you asked if you could touch him, he didn’t leave. you sensed him still near you, and though you were blind you could see the vague massive shadow you came to know as him still before you. you knew he wouldn’t reply to you. you’d spent enough time around him that you knew this particular silence, along with his continued presence, was his answer.

you reached out and michael watched as your hands touched him. it felt equally as strange to him as it felt to you. when people touched michael they were beating at him, slapping and scratching for their lives. you simply just... touched him. your hands ran up the rough fabric of his jumpsuit. they ran up and over his shoulders, feeling the broadness and firmness there. you knew he was a large man, but this gave you a better understanding of just how large.

your hands retreated back to his chest and then up, slowly, until your fingers caught the seam of his rubber mask. you hesitated only for a moment, waiting for a reaction. none came, so your hands and fingers gently pressed against his mask. you could hear his steady, even breath muffled through the rubber. you could barely reach, but managed to feel the rough matted hair at the top. once you were satisfied you smiled and thanked him.

then you heard him stir, watched the shadow shift, followed by the sound that hair makes against rubber. his breath quieted. may i? you asked quietly. no response, but no denial. cautiously, you reached your hands up until they pressed against his chest again, sliding up to his neck. gentle fingers felt over his angular jaw where he grew short rough stubble, over his cheeks to his high cheekbones. delicately the tips of your fingers went over his eyebrows and michael's eyes fluttered closed. fingers went gently down over his eyelids, careful not to surprise him, feeling the shapes of his eyes. one of your hand’s fingers met bubbled and warped skin that you assumed must be scar tissue. you traveled down his nose and then back up to his hair line where you felt thick but softly curled hair.

the moment that you were finished and took your hands away, you heard the mask go back on and the muffled breathing return.

you continued to smile up at him, thanking him again. he didn't reply. 

Anyway, British catboys innit?

You do know Michael doesn't get off by sex as he only gets off by killing. That's it said in the book.

Michael says your little opinion doesn‘t matter.

If Jason Voorhees was ten when he died, then how come he's so crazy hugelarge?

a.) He swelled up in Crystal Lake like one of those grow-your-own-dinosaurs.

b.) Hell has a Make-a-Wish program and he wished to be an eight foot slab of stab meat.

c.) Flintstones vitamins.

d.) He's wearing stilts.

e.) It's an optical illusion.

Boogeyman got caught  . . oh ʷᵒʷ  michael in handcuffs again?  you better believe it