bella-boo

Quick to get up to your feet, you stumble backwards, hitting the wall behind you. They all stare. And even though some of them don’t have eyes, it seems like they can see right through you. See all that you have done, all the wrongs you’ve committed, all of the nights that have went wrong because of you, every mistake you have never made. And they judge you for it. Hard and ugly judgment.

You feel like you just wanna back into one of the corners and curl into a ball, begging whatever god is out there to make it stop, for you to be anywhere but here. But you can’t. For some reason, your body won’t let you. All you can do is just stand there, trying to avoid their stares and the increasing beat of your heart.

Looking somewhere else to look that’s not them, your eyes settle on the table. Though, you wish you would’ve looked at your feet instead. Laying in the middle of the table, is you. But not you now, no. It’s you, 15 years ago, in that witch costume you wore on halloween night. Your eyes are closed, like you're asleep, but there is no rise or fall of your chest. Just stillness.

That stillness seems to spread like fire across the room. There’s no breeze in the air, no sway in your stance, no breath from the masked people. Just stillness as you stare at the younger you.

It’s only broken when you feel a new pair of eyes on you. Not like the cold and judging ones that are also currently on you. Something familiar. Your head turns to look, snapped out your sudden trace. You’re met with the blue eyes you know all too well.

The blonde 10 year old stares back at you with a blank expression. You can’t tell what he’s thinking. Is he even thinking anything? There’s no emotion on his face to give you any hints.

Seeing his face again brings a sharp pain in your chest. “Mikey…” Your voice comes out quieter than you wanted it to, almost a whisper.

There’s quiet for a moment. He just looks at you, you look back. Then, he speaks.

“Why’d you come back?”

Why’d you come back? Confusion fills your head. You came back for a new start! Right…?

All thoughts get cut off by a sudden sense of dread. You look at Michael then back at the younger you laying on the table. Tunnel vision starts to hit and you swear the room starts to get even colder. Dread. The feeling gets stronger. And stronger. And stronger. And stronger. Then—-

You wake up with a jolt, pushing yourself up on your elbow. Looking around your familiar room, a small piece of you calms down. Trying to catch your breath, you remind yourself that it was just a nightmare. A sick nightmare you could never figure out. It's the only nightmare you’ve had that seems reoccurring.

You’ve heard about stuff saying dreams have different means so, a few years ago when they first started, looked into those websites and shit to see if there’s anything on… whatever the hell your dream means. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. You don’t even know when you started having it. It started shortly after Mikey left. He always says something different at the end. This time, it’s more strange. “Why’d you come back?” You came back for a fresh and new start. Nothing else.

Once your breathing finally settles and you’re finally calm, you look over to your digital alarm clock on the nightstand. Oh shit! you’re gonna be late! It’s your first fucking day too! You toss the blankets off you and scramble to get ready. You almost trip as you try to put on your pants and shirt at the same time. You decide to do your hair and makeup in the car just so you can get there on time, grabbing your keys and scrambling out the door.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*:☆ﾟ. ───

You’re greeted by the same grumpy old woman that was at the desk the first time you came. That is, until Loomis comes in to greet you. You shake hands before he starts to lead you down one of the halls

“Before you get started, I want to get you settled and grab you a few things. First, your uniform.”

He stops and disappears into a supply closet before coming out with a folded pair of clothes that you mention be your uniform. He leads you to the women’s locker room and waits outside as you go in

In the locker room, you put all of your stuff into a tiny locker, including the clothes you wore here. You pull on the nurse uniform that Loomis gave you. It’s definitely not new. There's some odd stain on the side of it and it kind of smells weird. You lift the shirt to your nose and recoil back at the smell. What did the nurse who wore this before you do to it? You make a metal note to bring perfume to keep in your locker next time your next shift.

You meet Loomis again outside of the locker room where he gives you an ID card and a name tag.

“Now, I won’t be the one doing the tour and all that. I’ve paired you with some coworkers who will help you for the first few weeks until you get settled.” Loomis says, walking beside you.

He leads you to a break room where you meet your coworkers. God, you really hope they aren’t bitchy. You can’t stand nasty coworkers. The door opens and you see a man and a woman sitting at one of the tables. They look over when you walk in.

Loomis speaks first. “I’d like you to meet Jennie and Chris.”

You give a polite smile and introduce yourself to them. Jennie, a blonde haired and blue eyed woman, greets you a little too enthusiastically.

“Hi!! I’m Jennie! And oh my god, I love your hair!! Who’s your hair stylist? You have to show me how to do this look sometime—“

Chris chimes in, shutting the blonde up. “Don’t mind her, she talks too much,” This earns him a playful hit on the arm by Jennie. “I’m Chris.”

Dr. Loomis smiles at all of you before speaking, “I’ll leave you all to it.” and closes the door behind him.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*:☆ﾟ. ───

Jennie does most of the talking during the tour, Chris only adds something occasionally. The place is big but you’re thankful there’s only a small area of the place where you actually have to work. They show you the cafeteria, activity center, multiple break rooms, supplies closets, and the main hallways that holds most of the patients you’ll care for. You tag along with them as they take care of some patients, watching to see just what you’ve got yourself into. Jennie greets them with the same enthusiasm she greeted you with.

“Good morning Mrs. Jones! I have your medicine!”

Mrs. Jones, this small and frail old woman, gives a shaky smile and chats with Jennie as she does a check up and gives the woman her meds. It doesn’t seem hard at all. Easy job, easy pay.

Well, at least that’s what you think until you get to one of the men’s cells. Chris steps in a bit more this time but that doesn’t stop the man ogling at Jennie and making lude comments. Most of the younger men here seem to hold themselves together well around the female nurses, it’s the older ones that seem to be the problem.

They let you practice on a younger women. You greet her with a kind smile, a soft voice, not too loud like Jennie and not too quiet like Chris. She stays silent the whole time but complies with everything. She takes her meds without a problem and lets you take her vitals before you all leave.

“Are all the patients that easy?” You ask with genuine curiosity as you walk to the last door.

“Some are, some aren’t. It depends. You’ll get a couple that are off the rocker a few times but nothing really crazy happens. You don’t have to worry about much.” Chris answers.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*:☆ﾟ. ───

Jennie sighs as she shuts and locks the door behind the last patient.

“We do the check ups and meds in the mornings, what you just saw. The rest of the day is usually just watching over the activity center and cafeteria, bringing lunches and dinners to patients who aren’t allowed to leave their rooms, and fetching stuff for doctors. Plus the handfuls of paperwork.” Chris tells you as he leads you all to the empty cafeteria for some shitty coffee.

“Seems easy enough.” You shrug.

Chris laughs, “You say that until you come face to face with a patient that’s talking about the ‘ghosts’ they hear in the walls while wrecking their room.”

A small smile graces your lips, “Seems way above my pay grade.”

“It is.” Jennie chimes in.

Chris serves you all coffee that tastes like it’s been sitting out too long. You couldn’t expect more from workplace drinks. You fall back into one of the chairs and Jennie and Chris do the same. You look at the tiny TV playing in the corner of the and kinda space out for a moment.

You can’t imagine what Mikey has felt these passed 15 years. You haven’t even been here 2 hours and these plan ass walls feel like it’s slowly draining the imagination out of you. Where is he now? Is he even in the same wing as you? Hell, he might be up another floor. You can’t imagine spending 15 years in this place, growing up here and spending your teen years here. Staring at the small walls for years must do some shit to people.

You saw they have a court yard but do they even let cases like Michael go outside? What if he hasn’t been outside since he’s came here, hasn’t felt the sun or fresh air? That thought kills you. No one deserves to be locked in a room their whole life without seeing the sun or hearing the birds' songs. No one.

Your thoughts get pushed to the side when you hear chains rattling and feet scuffing coming from the hallway to your right. The cafeteria is open with hallways of patients going through your left and right. Your head turns to look when the sound gets closer. You watch as a man gets escorted by two guards. He’s easily more than a head taller than both of them, even with his slight hunch. He walks slowly, not really picking up his feet. His matted hair covers his face from your view, same with… a mask? You didn’t think those were allowed in places like this. His shirt and cardigan looks like it’s too small for him, especially length wise. You don’t doubt it was because this place doesn’t have the right size for an absolute tank like him.

It seems like Chris noticed your staring because he speaks up, quite enough so it won’t echo but you can still hear.

“That’s Michael Myers. You know, ‘The Boogyman’. A town scary story in Haddonfield. Probably the most insane freak in this place.”

THATS MICHAEL? What the hell did they feed him for him to get so fucking big!? That is not the chubby, blonde, 10 year old you remember. His hair is more darker and he sure as hell is a lot fucking bigger.

“I wouldn’t stare too long,” Jennie says. “The Boogyman might come and get ya!” She jokes, shaking your shoulders.

You force a fake smile. It doesn’t sit right with you that they call him that. But you can’t show it. Because you don’t plan on anyone else besides Loomis to know about your past friendship with Michael. Gossip spreads like wildfire around here and you’d rather not be the center of it.

But your mind does wonder for a second… Is he actually that insane as they say? Did he get worse while in here? He did look in kinda bad shape with his walk and how his hair is matted. Loomis said he hasn’t talked in 15 years either. God, what happened to him?

The rest of the day you still can’t wrap your head around how Michael has changed so much. Where’d all the height come from? Maybe his dad. You never got to meet his dad when you were younger, only heard about him. Then the dip fuck Ronnie came.

You bristle just thinking about his name. Seeing him confirms that you’re at least in the same wing as him. Will you see him more? Will he notice you? Will he even remember you? What if he doesn’t? What if he’s too far gone like they say? Maybe you’ll just have to wait, even if it pains you to do so.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*:☆ﾟ. ───

“Morning Miss Jamie,” You greet as you push your cart into the room. The older woman looks up from her book and smiles. She talks about her grandson as you nod along and give her her meds. Most of the patients are like that, talking about their family that never visits them and leaves them to rot in this place.

You’ve noticed that the care here isn’t the best. Guards ignore patients' pleas for basic wants or needs. They end up getting called names that you would never ever say to anyone. They treat them like animals, not people. Sure, some people in here have done bad things, but all of them are here because they aren’t and weren't in the right mind as they did it.

With a sigh, you close the door and pull your cart with you. You’ve been here for a few weeks now and things have been going okay. There’s no longer a need for Jennie and Chris to be at your side but you still hang out with them during your breaks. They’re kinda the only friends you’ve made since you’ve moved in. Shocker, I know.

But you really feel like going out to a random bar just trying to make some friends while also getting hit on by a bunch of drunk guys. No… you’d rather stick with Jennie’s blurted out comments and Chris’s egg sandwich stinking up the break room.

As you continue to push the cart down the hall, you come up to the blocked corridor. There’s usually a quiet guard there that you flash your ID to and he opens the doors with a small, polite nod. But instead of him, you see another man.

This other man is more scrawny and kinda short. The hat he wears does very little to conceal the mess of hair under his hat. His stubble is the same. Honestly, it looks like they got him right off the street and pushed him in front of the doors.

Pulling your supply cart full of medicine, you walk up to him. He looks up from the current magazine he was reading. His eyes scan you up and down, lingering a bit too long on your legs before he meets your eyes and gives you a unsettling smile.

A shiver goes down your spine at the sight of his rotting teeth twisted into a smile. He doesn’t seem to notice. Despite all this, you put on your best fake smile and give a cheerful “Goodmorning!” and show him your work ID that’s in the lanyard around your neck, hoping he’ll just open the doors.

But it’s not that easy. Instead of opening them, he leans in closer. Instinctively, you take a small step back.

“Now what’s a pretty young thing like you doing in a place like this?”

Now, you’re a bit irritated. Pervy patients are one thing, but pervy guards are another. “Working. And if you would just open those doors, I could go back to doing just that.” The smile is still there, but a bit faltered, same with your voice. A VERY clear sign.

That doesn’t seem to stop him.

“Working? A young woman like you should be at home, with your husband providing for you! Not here where anyone could just snatch you up!” His hand flies out to grab your shoulder. You jerk away, smile and fake voice completely gone.

“I would appreciate it if you could just open the door and let me get on with my day.”

“Now, why would I do that?” He says, smile getting bigger as he takes a step closer

Your mouth opens, ready to tell the guy off, but a familiar voice calling out your name from the end of the hallway stops you. You turn around.

Loomis is speed walking towards you. You turn back to glance at the guy. He sees Loomis and steps back, not before stealing a few more looks at you though.

You meet him half way.

“What is it, Dr. Loomis?”

“I need you to come with me, it’ll be quick. I’ll have someone take over the rest of your routine.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*:☆ﾟ. ───

Back in a much familiar office, you sit down at one of the chairs across from his desk.

“Am I in trouble or something?” You ask, even though you can’t think of literally anything you could have done to get you reported. You’ve only been here for a few weeks after all.

“No, no, not at all! I just… I have an idea that I want you to hear me out on.” He sits down in his own chair, lacking his fingers together as he meets your eyes.

“Now just hear me out for a second. In the 17 years I've worked with Michael, I have yet to see any change. It’s gotten to the point where I don’t know what to do to help. I don’t know if there’s even anything that might help him. But what I do know is that when his mother was around, he was at least talking. He showed a bit of emotion. So, what i’m asking of you is that you become Michael’s nurse.”

“You want me to…what?”

“Now, hold on. I’ve worked with Michael for many, many years and he’s shown no signs of change or emotion, like I said. Maybe, with a familiar face, it might show some progress.”

To say that you’re at a loss of words is an understatement. Is he insane?! Loomis wants you to waltz into Michael’s cell after 17 years and expect a magical change? You’re not the 9 year old you he knew, you don’t even look like how you used to. Especially not in nurse scrubs.

“I doubt he’ll even remember me, it’s been 17 years.” You say after a second. Your voice is quiet because you’re unsure of yourself. Will he? Is he as far gone as Loomis says?

“Maybe, maybe not. But I do promise you, miss, that it’s worth a try.” Loomis puts a finger up before you can respond again, silencing you. “Now, before you accept or decline, just listen. You won’t be doing anything crazy, just bringing him his lunch and fetching other things he might need. Simple. And I'll be there in the doorway the whole time, so you don’t have to worry about being in any danger.”

Danger. That’s all you seem to hear about Michael, about how ‘Dangerous’ he is. What has he done here to earn that title? Has he done more than just kill his sister, her boyfriend, and Ronnie back home? Has he killed somebody here? Or is everybody just feeding off rumors… The towns around here spread like wildfire. One person spits out a lie and they take it like idiots, spreading it around to anyone that will lend an ear, twisting every word.

“It’ll only be for a few weeks, if there’s no change after that then we’ll pull you.”

Silence fills the room as you think. It is a lot to say the least. 17 years of wondering. 17 years of ‘what if’s’. 17 years of unanswered questions. If you expect, you would mainly be doing it for Michael, to help him. If there is a slight chance of change that could happen for the better with your help, you’ll do it. But you'd also be doing it for your curiosity. You’ve wondered for too long. Maybe now’s the time to figure out some of those questions.

“I’ll do it.”

A smile quickly spreads across Loomis’s face. “Great! Come with me…”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*:☆ﾟ. ───

Your hands tremble slightly as you hold the tray of food in your hands. Are you scared? Kinda. More nervous. All you know of Mikey is that little boy you knew all those years ago. Who knows what he’s like now. You glance over your shoulder, back at Loomis. He gives you a quick nod of the head, crossing his arms. The guard on the side unlocks and opens the door for you.

With a big deep breath, you step into the room.

It’s… not what you were expecting. Most patients' rooms are bare, only having a bed and a desk, with off white walls stained from the years. Yet, Michael’s room has a lot. His walls are littered with what looks like papier-mâché masks, all of different kinds and colors. His desk is filled with craft supplies, paints and brushes littered the space, though it does seem somewhat organized.

Seeing it reminds you of when you were little. Mikey did love to draw. You remember him showing you different sketch books and drawings he had done. You don’t remember him having this love for making masks though. He did love this one clown mask he always wore, you do remember that.

Most patients don’t get this kind of treatment, from what you knew. The most you’ve seen was either courtyard time or extra tv for those that have been on good behavior.

Loomis clears his throat behind you and you snap out of whatever memory lane you were just in.

Your eyes lock on the massive figure sitting down at the desk, back towards you, radio softly playing some station in the background. Michael.

Your feet feel like they’ve sunk themselves into the concrete, unmoving and stuck.

Reminding yourself that this is that little boy you once were inseparable with, you tighten your grip on the food tray and keep walking.

The few, quick steps to his desk feels like years. Years of memories flooding back into your brain, years of moments that have forgotten in time, years of laughs, years of cries, years of remembering.

Reaching the side of his desk, you gently set down his food where there is a spot cleared, trying to hide the clear shake in your hands.

Clearing your dry throat, you speak, coming out softer than intended.

“Here’s your lunch, Mr. Myers”

Mr. Myers. You almost recoil while saying it. It feels so odd on your tongue. You’re used to ‘Mikey’ or ‘Michael’, not Myers. You don’t like the unfamiliarity of it. But yet again, you really don’t know this version of him. So maybe ‘Mr. Myers’ really does fit.

Michael’s hand stops mid swipe of the brush.

A sense of nausea washes over you. Fear? Nervousness? You don’t know.

His eyes slowly look over. Not to your face, but to the name tag hanging from your shirt. It doesn’t have your last name, only your first, but is that enough for him to remember? Would he even care?

He stares like that for a moment, but it feels like forever. Then, his eyes slowly drift up towards your face.

You can’t see what he looks like now, due to the orange mask and the matted hair on his face. But those familiar blue eyes peering at you through all that are enough for you.

After a moment,his head slowly tilts to the side.

Your heart practically hammers out of your chest. Does he know? It seems like it. But what if he doesn’t? What if this is just how he acts with others? It could be, you don’t know him.

You can’t tell how long you stare at each other before your hear Loomis call your name from the door way.

Right. You have a job to do. Your gaze quickly drops to your feet before you walk out.

Once you cross that doorway, the air feels lighter and it’s like a weight is lifted off your chest, but only slightly. It still lingers, like a bad after taste. A deep breath escapes you, one that you didn’t even know you were holding.

“Are you okay?” Loomis asks, grabbing you by the shoulders. “That was amazing, I haven't seen him act like that to anyone before!”

You ignore his question because you don’t really know if you are.

“Can— can I take my break now?”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*:☆ﾟ. ───

The cold water that splashes against your face calms you down a bit.

You pat your face dry with the bottom of your shirt, looking up into the cracked and stained bathroom mirror.

There’s slight eye bags starting to form under your eyes. Is it from the nightmares? You don’t know. You don’t really care either.

If what Loomis said was true, then maybe Michael did recognize you? You don’t know what all has happened to him in this place, what all these years could have done to his mind, but he looked at your name and saw your face, he should have put two and two together, right?

You’ve changed, yes, you’ve grown older and more mature. You don’t have the same baby face you did when you were 9, but you still do have resemblance.

And when he looked at you…

It was so weird. Like there was no emotion in his eyes, just a blank stare.

You glance down at your watch and see the time. Shit! You went 10 minutes over break.

With a sigh, you run a hand over your face and push open the door.

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Chapter 1:

5 more miles. That’s it. Just five more miles until you're out of this damn car and done driving. Everything hurts from sitting so long. What really compelled you to think you could take on a 19 hour drive in one go? You started to regret it only 5 hours in. Traffic made it so much worse so now it’s been almost a full day. A full day of no sleep and filled with gas station coffee and trashy snacks.

It’s taking all your strength just to not pass out at the wheel. The heaviness that weighs down your eyelids makes it almost impossible to not doze off. You don’t know how much longer you can sit in here before pulling your hair out. Maybe you should’ve stopped at a motel or something. God, you really need some sleep.

The only reason you did this long ass drive from Maine to Illinois is because your childhood home was left to you by your parents. The house has already been paid off, thanks to your dad. Plus, you getting laid off from your job back in Maine (because of your stupid boss) and breaking up with your ex, all in the same month, also played a big part in you deciding to move so far away.

The breakup was messy. Very messy. He was a lazy, cheating piece of shit. You don’t know how you stayed with him as long as you did. He made you pay all the bills, groceries, everything. He said he’d get a job but he never did. The breaking point was when you found him in bed with your best friend. You didn’t freak out, just left while he frantically tried to explain himself while pulling his boxers on. You stayed with a friend that night and grabbed your stuff in the morning, ignoring his pleas and desperate phone calls. Good luck paying rent, you dickhead.

And then, there’s your boss. You worked as a standard nurse, nothing special. As if working long hours wasn’t enough, your new and creepy boss decided to poke at you. You heard from some coworkers of his advances on them but you didn’t really think much of it. That is, until he came to you. Backing you into an empty operating room, he tried to get you to blow him, but he failed miserably. You can still feel his dirty hands on you. You get shivers just thinking about it. He fired you because he couldn’t get laid.

It was a very shitty month indeed.

Yeah, moving back to Haddonfield Illinois might have been an impulsive decision but the offer has been on the table for years. Your parents moved out to the coast to live out their retirement. They left the house to you and your siblings. But no one took it until now. You don’t blame them. Your home town was boring and your siblings seemed to want more exciting lives. You aren’t like them though. You don’t have kids, or a husband or wife. Nor do you go out for parties and do drugs. You like your life quiet and controlled, comfortable. So, maybe Haddonfield is right for you.

You’re hoping Haddonfield can give you a new, fresh start in life. A redo. Sure, it’s a quiet town, but you think that’s what you need right about now. Quiet.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*:☆ﾟ. ───

The house looks… run down. Guess that’s what 10 years of no one living in it does to a place. It doesn’t look too bad, though. The front yard definitely needs some work. Seeing it again definitely brings back memories. Siblings, old friends. With a shake of your head, you unbuckle your seatbelt and step out. The pouch stairs creek as you walk on them, the wood straining beneath your feet. You search your pocket for the keys, pulling them out after a second. Placing the key in the lock, you turn it and push the door open with your foot. The door creaks open and the smell hits you. Dust, yes, but under that, nostalgia. It smells like home. It looks just like how you remember it, just less decorated.

It almost feels unreal. That this will be your home again, just this time it will be all you. No siblings fighting, no parents screaming, just you. It doesn’t always have to be neat and tighty like your mother always wanted it. It can be yours. You can make it yours.

You decided to take a walk through before unloading. You check all the lights to see if they work, they do. Same with the stove and fridge. Thankfully, your parents left it furnished. They took the TV in the living room though. Shame. You’ll need to get a new one. You didn’t pack much when you left, just what you really needed. Like you said, impulsive. There was probably a lot of stuff you missed and left with your ex. Knowing your luck, it was probably pretty important too. There’s definitely a lot of stuff you’ll need to buy, though there is only a limit of what money you have in your pocket at the moment. On the first floor, there is the foyer, living room, kitchen and first bathroom. Nothing special. But it’s definitely an upgrade from that shitty apartment you and your ex shared.

Your hand trails over the railing as you walk upstairs. Upstairs has the master bedroom and bathroom, and two other bedrooms. One of them you’ll leave as a guest bedroom, even if you aren’t really planning to have guests. But what could you do with the other one? You don’t really need an office, your job doesn’t really need that. Maybe you could make it into a mini library? Or like a movie room? Maybe even a really big dressing room? You’ll have to put more thought into it.

The master bedroom door gets nudged open by your foot. This was your parents room. It feels so odd to see it so empty, only things being the bed in the middle and the dresser by the wall. You weren’t really allowed in here growing up. It was off limits to you and your siblings. It kind of feels weird having free range of stuff now. Your mind already wonders to how you could rearrange stuff.

In the basement, there’s a storage room and a washer and dryer. You’ve never liked it down there. It always gave you the creeps when it was your turn to do laundry. It always felt like someone was watching you, even if it was just you down there. Maybe it’s because the light never reaches the corners of the room. You don’t know. And don’t really care. You’ll only go down there if you need it.

With the walk through done, you head back outside to start unloading. You step back out onto the porch with a sigh. Your eyes wander to the house across the street, The Myers house. It breaks your heart to see the state that it’s in, it’s so much worse than yours. The front yard is way overgrown and vines seem to climb the walls of the house. The white house that you remember is now a yellow-ish color with some odd black splotches. Wooden boards block the windows, the porch is covered in graffiti. It looks like there’s beer cans and bottles all over the yard. It probably got turned into some party house for teens. Seeing the house brings back a lot of suppressed memories…

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*:☆ﾟ. ───

Halloween night, 1990

“Come on, Mikey! You’re too slow” You say, running ahead of him in your witch costume.

“I’m trying! You’re just too fucking fast!” Michael catches up in his clown costume. He’s a year older than you but in the same grade. You’ve grown up with each other and went to the same school. He’s your best friend, and you are his.

“I wanna hit the good houses before they run out.” He says, checking his bag.

“Well, you would’ve had more time if you didn’t take so long to come out.”

“I told you already! Judith wouldn’t take me cause she was with her dumbass boyfriend! I had to wait till Ronnie fell asleep to leave.”

A scoff leaves you at the name of his step-dad. “I don’t know how you deal with that dick, let alone live with him. He should’ve broken more bones than he did.”

That gets a little laugh out of Michael. “Yeah, it is kinda fun to fuck with him right now, he can’t do to much but wack me with his cane.”

“Is that how you got that bruise?” You ask, pointing at his arm.

“Yeah, but don’t worry about it. He’ll get what’s coming for him.”

What is that supposed to mean? “I hope… Now hurry up! We’re gonna miss all the good candy!”

…..

You both traded candy on the way back home. You did get a decent amount, pillow cases 3/4s of the way full.

“You got anymore tootsie rolls?” You ask around the sucker in your mouth.

“Nah, I gave them all to you.” You both stop when you reach your houses.

“Wanna come over and trade some more? We could count everything that we have! I think my mom is baking something too.” You ask, looking over.

He looks out of it. Not tired, but just that his mind is somewhere else. Mikey tends to do that a lot. Especially when he gets a beating from Ronnie. He tends to shut down completely and just not talk. You always helped him through it though, never pushing him to speak, just sticking with him until it passed.

“No, not tonight. I gotta go check on Boo. I’ll see you later though.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll see you at school tomorrow, Mikey!” You say, starting to walk over to your house.

“See ya.”

You wake up later that night to sirens. Rushing over to your window, you see police surrounding the Myers house. Deb, Mikey’s mom, is outside with Boo, sobbing. You see Mikey being carried away by two police men. The sight makes your heart drop into your stomach. You lock eyes for a second before he gets in the back of the police car. You watch as three bodies get carried away on stretchers, covered in a white cloth, before your mom rushes in and pulls you away from the window. She closes the curtains and sends you back to bed.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*:☆ﾟ. ───

Present day:

That was 15 years ago. 15 years and it still causes an ache in your chest when you think about it. You tried to ask your mom what happened and where did Michael go, but she never answered. You did your own research when you were old enough and found out Mikey killed Ronnie, Judith, and Judith’s boyfriend all that night, just a few minutes after you both said your goodbyes. You found out he was sent to Smiths Grove, a sanctuary for the criminally insane.

And it just happens that you're going for an interview there in a few weeks. You don’t doubt that Mikey did it. He was always odd, but you liked odd. He’d show you the pictures of his dead animals and let you hold his rats, and tell you about different ways he wanted to strangle bullies. You always listened and nodded. You found him interesting, you liked Mikey. If he could kill innocent animals like that, he could kill Ronnie without a doubt. What you don’t really get is why he killed Judith. Yes, she could be a bitch to Michael but she wasn’t as bad as Ronnie. But, yet again, you didn’t live with him. You didn’t know what was going through his mind when he committed those murders.

What happened to Boo and Deb? You thought maybe Debrah would at least still be here. By the looks of it, she isn’t. What happened to them? You’ll look more into it later.

You’d be lying if you’d say that you haven’t thought of seeing Michael at Smiths Grove if you got the job. You’re curious to see what he looks like now, how much he changed, if he even remembered you. You doubt you'd even be put near his cell, though. You're a nurse, yes, but not that type of nurse. You’d probably be put with the easier patients to begin with. That is, if you even get the job. You still have to go to the damn interview.

With a few blinks, you step off the porch. You can’t think about the past, not right now. You still need to get everything inside and you’re quickly losing daylight. Think later, work now.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*:☆ﾟ. ───

The last box makes it through the door just as the sun starts to completely set. It wasn’t much, but it sure felt like a fucking lot. And you still have to unpack it all. With a sigh, you drag all the needed boxes up to your room. You start there and work your way down.

Cleaning needs to be done more than anything right now. You vacuum every square inch of the bedroom, as well as the mattress, making sure to get every little dust bunny there could possibly be. Bleach is your best friend when wiping down things. The dresser, vanity, nightstand. Everything. 10 years of grime have to go away before you can sleep comfortably here. You think you get in from your mom. Things have to be at least semi clean before you can take a breather. Once you're done, clothes get put into their places in the dresser, the bed gets made and decorated with pillows, your makeup fills the vanity, and the decor gets hung up on the walls. It’s starting to feel like you. You change into something a lot more comfortable before moving downstairs, making sure to throw the dirty ones into the newly set up laundry basket. You open a few windows to let the house and the bathroom air out a bit. It does need much, just a quick wipe down and mop. You put your stuff in the shower and cabinet over the sink before heading downstairs.

The living room doesn’t take much either. You vacuum the place and couch before throwing a blanket over the back of it and filling the empty TV stand with a few DVDs and candles. Once you get a TV, maybe you could binge some horror movies.

Now there’s the kitchen. Your parents, bless their hearts, left a few dishes and silverware behind. You’ll be good for a while but you still need to get more. You wipe down everything and mop. The fridge is the worst part though. You wipe down the inside but there’s some sticky residue on one of the shelves. It almost makes you gag. Once finished, you put the few drinks you hand in the fridge and the snacks in the pantry. It looks sad. You need to go shopping soon. The sight of the food makes your stomach growl.

Right. You have no food and definitely don’t have the energy to go out shopping. Looks like you’ll be ordering pizza. You find your phone and look up the number before calling and ordering your preferred pizza. You flop on the couch and decide to do some online shopping while. You look for different things, mostly decor and stuff for the kitchen. Your mind starts to wander to the house across the street.

What was going through Michael’s mind when he killed them? Was he truly as evil as all of the articles state? He always seemed to linger in the very back of your mind, even 17 years later. He was your first and one of the few only friends you had growing up in Haddonfield. After you moved to Maine, it was a bit different. You made more friends in college and through different work places. But you’ll never forget your first friend. The boy who’d you always skip class with in the halls. The boy who you had your own little secret hideout with in the woods. The boy who’d always come over and watch shitty horror movies with you. The boy who was an escape for you when your parents got too pushy. The boy who seemed to always have some sort of bruise on his body. The boy who broke a guy's nose when he said something about you at school. Yeah, you miss Mikey. None of your friends were like him.

Going back to your parents, you love them, you really do, but god are they picky. You’re thankful that they paid off the house for you, that they even offered it in the first place, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t come free of cost. Your father was a more laid off kind of guy. He worked late nights but always seemed to make it home before bedtime. He was good to you, just followed everything your mother said. Your mother on the other hand, she’s the picky one. She beat the ‘housewife stereotype’ into your head when you were younger. Though, from a young age, you knew that’s not what you wanted to do. You didn’t want to stay at home, cook and clean for some man as he screams at the TV at some football match. It’s not like they disapprove of you being a nurse, it makes good money and it’s quite respected, it’s just the fact that you haven’t settled down with anyone yet. Your siblings are married and have kids, you're not. So, she definitely picks favorites based on that. She was ecstatic when she heard you wanted to go back to Illinois. She said that you can finally find someone and settle down in your childhood home, finally give her some more grandkids. Like that’s gonna ever happen. You just let her keep talking and nodded along.

The doorbell rings and you snap out of your thoughts. You look towards the door, forgetting for a moment that you ordered pizza. Getting up, you walk over to the door and open it. The delivery boy looks about 15-16. He looks scared. At first you’re confused, but you realize what it is after he keeps glancing over his shoulder at Myers house. You feel yourself roll your eyes. He acts like the boogie man is gonna come running out of the house once he turns his back. You wonder if Mikey became some story to scare kids. A town scare story that gets passed around on Halloween. It seems like it. You put the cash in the kid's hand and take the pizza, accidentally slamming the door a little too hard in his face.

You eat the pizza while scrolling on your phone. The night is still young but you're exhausted from the drive and unpacking. You might as well just call it and early night. You finish up the piece of pizza that you were eating, throwing it in the fridge before heading upstairs.

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The next week blurs together in one big mess of unpacking and shopping. You're pretty sure your wallet might be a bit low from all the trips to the store. You don't realize how many things you were really missing from the house until you actually need said things. For example, a few days ago, you were trying to cook some dinner when you realized you didn’t have any serving spoons for your pasta. Or, when you were in that creepy ass basement, trying to do your laundry, when you found out you didn’t have any detergent. Let’s just say, there were a lot of trips to the store this week. Every time you swear you had everything, something new that you needed would pop up.

Your home is starting to really get more comfortable, though. More you. You fill your walls and selves reflect back on all your interests, Your bed filled with your favorite pillows, plushies and softest blankets, cabinets filled to the brim with your favorite snacks. The TV also finally came! It was a bitch to set it up by yourself, that and the router. You sat on the wood floor in front of the TV stand forever just trying to figure out how to hook the damn thing up. After managing to figure it out, you can now watch your favorite shows while eating dinner and not sit in silence.

Now, you’re enjoying your last night of peace. No work, no worries. Tomorrow, you’re going in for the job interview at Smiths Grove. And if that doesn’t work? Then you’ll go to the next nearest hospital and apply. And the next. And the next. And the next… You get the point. This is basically a self care night. It might be the only one you’ll have in a while. You take a nice and long shower, order your favorite take out, put on your favorite show and sit back on the couch, trying to relax.

As you stuff your face full of fast food, you can’t help but feel the anxiety creep up on you. Sure, you know things won’t go terribly but you still can’t help it. Because what if something goes horribly wrong? What if no one will hire you? What will happen when you slowly start to run out of money? The ‘what if’s’ never stop. No matter how hard you try. You feel like your mind is cursed with the cost of overthinking. You hate how much your brain thinks of the worst outcomes possible. You’re sure everything will go well…right? At least, you can only hope.

Whatever. Maybe you’ll just take an early night again. You grab the remote and turn off the TV, throwing back on the couch when you finish. Sleep might help your mind relax.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*:☆ﾟ. ───

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

You groan and roll over, hand searching blindly on the nightstand for the alarm clock. Once it’s shut off, you run a hand over your face, trying to wipe the fatigue away. You need to wake up early so you can have time to get ready and be there on time for the interview. Reluctantly, you pull the covers off your body and get up. You rub your eyes on the way to the bathroom. You grab a towel from the closet and turn on the shower. You let the shower warm up before stepping in.

The warm water embraces your body as you step in. A sigh of relief leaves you as you feel your stress wash away with the water and down to the drain. As you wash yourself, you also try to reassure your mind. You’re more than capable for this job, you think, there shouldn’t be any reason why you shouldn’t get it. And if you don’t get it? Their loss.

It helps a bit. You know it’s true that you are over qualified for this job, but that little voice of anxiety in the back of your mind never fully shuts up.

After you’ve done your shower routine, you grab your towel and dry off the best you can before brushing your teeth. Next, you style your hair how you think is best for today. And after fighting it for a few minutes, you get it how you want. Going back to your room, you go over to your closet to pick out some clothes.

You need something formal but casual. Digging through a few drawers, you finally settle on a button down and some comfy dress pants. Next, makeup. You go with your usual, just a bit more natural looking. And finally, your accessories. After picking them out, putting all your final touches and some quick spritz of perfume on, you’re ready to head out the door and even with a few minutes to spare!

Maybe you could pick up some breakfast on your way there too.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*:☆ﾟ. ───

It’s… big to say the least. You don’t know what you were expecting, really, but it wasn’t this. It’s fucking huge! If you get this job, you think it will take you at least a year to be able to remember where everything is. You might even get lost just on your way to the bathroom.

With a shake of your head, you head for the doors. Inside, the lights are the normal blinding white. Though, the one above your head seems to flicker from time to time. Then there’s the smell… It’s odd. The hospital smell is there, yes, but there’s something else. Something that you can’t quite put your finger on. It’s something deep. Something that lingers in the walls of the building. You can’t really explain it well.

There’s an old woman at the front desk. She barely even looks up from her magazine when you come through the door. You go over, setting your hands on the counter.

“Um, Excuse me, ma’m? I’m here for a job interview.”

This time, she does look up. Clearly annoyed by the situation of her actually having to do her job, but she forces a tight, little smile.

“Give me one moment.”

She picks up the desk phone and dials a number. It rings for a moment before whoever is on the other line picks up.

“Hello, Doctor? Yes, I have a woman down here that's looking for an interview…. Yes, doctor.”

She hangs up the phone a bit too aggressively before turning back to you.

“Down that hall and the 3rd door to the left. Knock before you come in.”

Your eyes dart over to where she pointed before you give her a polite thank you and head that way. You would never get people who act like it’s such a hassle to do such an easy job like hers. Quickly reaching the door, you give it three soft knocks. “Come in!” Says a voice across the threshold. You turn the knob and step in. It’s an office. A bit on the bigger side but filled with stuff. filing cabinets, bookshelves, normal shelves filled with trophies and other certifications. And at the center, there’s an older man sitting at a wooden desk, papers scattered around him. He stands up to greet you and extends his arm for a hand shake.

“Dr. Loomis, pleased to meet you.”

You shut the door behind you and quickly shake his hand. You give him your name and he suddenly freezes up.

“That name… I’ve heard it before.”

Now, you also freeze up. Do you know him? You don’t think you do. He doesn’t really look familiar and Dr. Loomis doesn’t really ring a bell.

“Really? How so?”

He sits back down and rummages through a draw at his desk.

“Give me just a moment. And take a seat, please.”

You sit in the chair across from his desk as he pulls out a file. He opens it to a certain paper and nods slowly.

“Ah, That’s why your name sounded so familiar.”

“I’m sorry— how do I know you? It’s been a long time since I've been back here and I'm not sure I would remember meeting you if I did.”

Dr. Loomis shakes his head. “No, no you have not met me. I know you through someone else.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, who?”

He goes quiet, for just a moment, before answering.

“Michael.”

Now, whatever you were expecting, it was definitely not that.

“Myers?” The question seems stupid only after it leaves your lips. Of course it’s Myers! What other Michael’s have you met?

“Yes, Myers.”

“Has he… Talked about me?”

Loomis sighs at the question and puts away the file. “He used to. When he first came in. I’m Michael’s doctor, you see. I’m assuming you know what happened?”

You nod and he continues. “Well, after everything and he was brought here. He asked for you, his mom, and his younger sister. Only his mother was allowed to come. But he never got you or his younger sister. I didn’t think at the time it would be good for him or you.”

“He told me about you when he was younger, what all you used to do. He asked me when he could go home, when you could go and play with you again. God, how did it break my heart to tell him he couldn’t.”

Hearing everything causes a deeper ache to form in your chest to form. He asked for you back then? He talked about you? Slightly pushing away those thoughts, you can’t help but feel off on Loomis’s last words, ‘that it broke his heart’. it seems a bit… forced, like he actually isn’t really sorry. Maybe it’s just something you're overthinking. It probably is. Loomis continues.

“Michael doesn’t talk anymore. Hasn’t in 15 years. It’s amazing how quiet he became after just a few weeks.”

That brings back memories of when Michael got quiet when stressed, angry or overwhelmed. Every strong emotion he felt led with silence. But maybe just now, he stayed quiet because there was no one to help him through it, to get him to keep talking. The room stays quiet for a few moments as you collect off of the pieces of your mind and stuff them back in your head.

“I doubt he even remembers me after all this time.” You manage to get out after a few long seconds.

Loomis shrugs. “He might, he might not. It's sad for me to say, but even after these years with him, I still can never figure out what’s happening in his brain.”

Again, a thick and heavy silence fills the room before he speaks once more, voice more enthusiastic than last time.

“Alright, enough about that past. You’re here for an interview, correct? let’s get on with that.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*:☆ﾟ. ───

The interview goes well. Doctor Loomis asks you a few questions and goes over your resume.

“You got the job.” He says, sliding the resume back across the table to you.

For a moment, you’re taken back. “That’s it? I just got the job? You don’t need a few days or anything?” He sighs and stands up. You follow.

“Well, we are a bit understaffed and just by looking at your resume and talking to you, you seemed more than qualified. So yes, you do get the job. Just like that. Does tomorrow work for you as your first day?”

“Oh! um, yeah, tomorrow is fine.”

“Great! I’ll have someone email you your schedule. Be here at 8 am for training.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*:☆ﾟ. ───

The drive home is a bit quiet, but your mind isn’t. There’s something off about Loomis. You just can’t put your finger in it. When he talked about Michael, there was something in his voice. There was no remorse. Even though his towers were guilty, there was nothing in his tone to back it up. Does he really not feel anything for Michael? He’s his doctor! How can he not feel remorse for the boy who went through such abuse mentally? Does he see him as a monster, just like the rest? You’ve seen comments on articles about what happened that night, about how they think Michael is such a terrible person, the embodiment of a demon. You shook your head at all of them. How could they say that about someone they didn’t know? You knew Michael back then, he was far from a demon. Sure, you don’t know exactly what went on inside his head but you do know that he was hurt. He went through hell in back with his home life and school.

God, do you wish you knew what was gonna happen that night. Maybe you could have been there to talk him out of it. Maybe he could have even got the help that he needed before it went too far. Maybe you would have stayed friends…

You pull up back to the house and park. You glance out the window and over to the beat down house across the street. You wonder what life could have been like if that Halloween night didn’t happen, if Michael just had spent the night at your house to trade candy. What would life have been like if Michael wasn’t in the sanctuary?

━━━━ ━━━━ ━━━━ ━━━━ ━━━━ ━━━

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“I ain’t petting that damn thing, look at it.”

A few days later, he’s bought more toys than it can play with, too many treats and a whole new cat tower. He acts like he hates them, but we both know the truth.

“You’re spoiling the cat, Bo”

“The fuck i ain’t! I'm just giving ‘em options. You wouldn’t wanna eat the same food for the rest of your life now would ya?”

Definitely gives those hard pats to the side or the butt like all men do to animals. The cat loves it.

I could also 1000% see him laughing his ass off while playing with the cat with a laser. Probably has it almost break the tv or some stupid shit.

And could see him giving it cat nip for the first time too.

He doesn’t say it, but he gets jealous of the cat when it’s all up on you. Say you’re watching a movie and the cats laying on your chest. He’ll glare at it for a good few minutes before picking it up off you and putting it in the floor or to the sided

“Bo!”

“What? The stupid thing was in my spot…” He says as he tucks himself right where the cat originally was.

Has well known beef with the cat.

“God damn it! The fuckin’ thing ripped up the damn couch!”

“Stupid cat scratched me!”

“Damn thing got into the trash!”

Speaking of, this man cannot keep his hands off you. They’re everywhere, all the time, no matter when, where, or what is happening. They’re there. It could even be in front of a few victims. He doesn’t care.

Keeps you well fed. He already loves a good southern feast, what more is it for you to eat alongside him and his brothers?

This guy lovesss sweet treats. He has a major sweet tooth, bake him anything and he’ll fall even more in love with you.

If anyone happens to make a rude or crude comment towards you or your body, he gets pissed. You’re his, how dare anyone make such a comment on what belongs to him? it’s very safe to say that you don’t see them again after that.

Loves to rest his head on your thighs. It’s literally heaven to him. You could literally be doing anything, but if it requires you sitting down, best believe his head WILL be in your lap.

He’s drop dead obsessed with you.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻

This man WILL slap that ass. He loves it.

When he’s eating you out, PLEASE wrap your thighs around his head, he will happily die being suffocated by you. Literally groans when you do it.

Loves, loves, loves to manhandle you. Making you arch your back further, switching positions, squeezing you, literally doing anything.

Doggy is his go to. It’s not his fault you look so pretty that way! He just gets a very nice view.

Also loves it when you ride him. It just does something to him as he watches you struggle to take him

Best believe that man his giving you tummy kisses. He worships every part of your body.

✧₊⁺🕯⋆.˚✧₊⁺🕯⋆.˚✧₊⁺🕯⋆.˚✧₊⁺🕯⋆.˚✧₊⁺🕯⋆.˚✧₊⁺🕯⋆.˚✧₊⁺🕯

I feel like Bo isn’t the type for candlelight dinners. He’s not really gentle, he’ll block your path in the workshop or crowd you into a corner or against the way just to remind you who’s really in control. He thrives on making you flustered.

Bo gets possessive quickly. If he thinks you’ve spent too much time down in the basement with Vincent, he’ll drag you with and make you spend some time with him. (and maybe mark your neck just to make his brother jealous)

He sees you as a prize, something that he earned. He’ll do anything to keep you close, even if that means he has to be a little mean at times.

Bo also loves in his own way. It might be a little difficult to see at times because of his mood changes but he does truly care about you.

✧₊⁺🕯⋆.˚✧₊⁺🕯⋆.˚✧₊⁺🕯⋆.˚✧₊⁺🕯⋆.˚✧₊⁺🕯⋆.˚✧₊⁺🕯⋆.˚✧₊⁺🕯

Vincent loves through art. He’ll draw you quietly in the dim light of the basement, sketching your figure with such gentle hands. He’ll also give you little gifts that was made from wax or wood.

He is more gentle than Bo overall. His touches especially are. He’ll wrap his long arms around your waist, bury his face into your neck and use your warmth and body to soothe himself.

Unlike his brother, Vincent’s love is quiet but still as intense. He’ll keep you close while he works, just basking in your presence.

He treats you like his personal porcelain doll. He genuinely detests when Bo tries to get you involved in the grim family business. Vincent views you as a beautiful, sacred thing that must be protected from Bo’s cruel nature.

✧₊⁺🕯⋆.˚✧₊⁺🕯⋆.˚✧₊⁺🕯⋆.˚✧₊⁺🕯⋆.˚✧₊⁺🕯⋆.˚✧₊⁺🕯⋆.˚✧₊⁺🕯

Their mutual attraction to you causes tension to grow in the Sinclair house. Bo will tease and make fun of Vincent for being too soft or over protective.

They both want your attention ALL. THE. TIME.

It’s hard for you to balance both of their needs when they’re both fighting for you 24/7. At one point, it got so bad that you needed to make a schedule for what day would be dedicated for who!

Despite their rough dynamic, both brothers go to absurd (and sometimes lethal) lengths to bring you gifts, snacks, trinkets and clothes from outside of Ambrose just to make sure you’re nice and comfortable and willing to stay.

They both are also really protective. They’re very reluctant to let you leave Ambrose, even if one of them or Lester is with you. They don’t like the idea of anyone else seeing what’s theirs.

It’s especially bad when victims come into town. You’ll be locked in your room or one of theirs until they decide it’s safe for you to come out. They can’t risk anything bad happening to you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*:☆ﾟ. ───

taglist: @questionablefruitsalad @stygianoir @everysecondcounts1 @pixieszlov @l0kilaufeys0n7 @suga-rrr @scarredtarts @my-eyelash-flew-off @crispytigerarcade @mikaelaca09 @animemangalover001 @dij-ology @jaxhwii9 @theressaicon @luluscoff1n @thesweetestever @anyteah44 @k2muda @bealittlething7322 @1-sleep-1 @ma11euss@tcygyuhijifyd4ygino @amarsmitherine @podonjr @peachcalpicocorpse

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Though, even if it means having you sweat and suffer in this heat, you wouldn’t change it for the world. Having Tommy wrapped up in you is your favorite part of the night. His face in your neck, feeling his breath against it while his strong arms around your waist hold you close to his chest.

You kick the heavier blanket off you, only leaving the thin sheet over your body. You hope to get some sleep tonight, despite the weather. But it seems like Thomas has some other plans in his unconscious state…

You see, this whole thing started a few weeks ago. Luda finally let you both share a room, and a bed, after getting engaged and agreeing not to do anything before marriage. And Thomas always loves to hold you when he sleeps. You’re like his personal teddy bear.

That night a few weeks ago, you were up late, trying to finish a few chapters of the book you were reading. Thomas was dead asleep behind you, arms around your waist and face buried in your neck. You get torn away from your book when you feel Thomas’s breath start to get a bit heavier against your neck and his body getting restless.

At first, you thought he’s having a nightmare, turning your head slightly to better face him. His eye brows are pinched together and eyes squeezed shut. But then he started slowing grinding and rutting his hips into your backside. It’s safe to say your focus was definitely not on the book anymore.

Whatever dream he was having, it seemed to have him riled up.

His breath gets hotter and faster against your skin and his grip on your waist turns so tight it’s almost painful as his hips start to speed up, grinding desperately against your ass. Small grunts of pleasure against him as he goes on.

And you? As soon as you realize what’s happening you feel your face get all hot and an ache start to form between your thighs. You and Tommy have never done anything more than a few stolen makeout sessions whenever the family isn’t looking, due to Luda Mae’s strict rules and Tommy having to work a lot of the time. So this is new. And more than anything you’ve never felt before. You stay frozen up, not really knowing what to do, the book forgotten in your hand.

After a few minutes, the grinding stopped and Tommy seemingly went back to a peaceful sleep. You try to get what sleep you can with the heat between your legs still raging.

✩°｡🧸𓏲⋆.🧺𖦹 ₊˚ ✩°｡🧸𓏲⋆.🧺𖦹 ₊˚

This goes on for a few more weeks, same cycle. Thomas grinding and rutting against your backside while you lay there hot and bothered, too embarrassed and frozen up to do anything back.

But that changes one night.

The moon is high up in the sky. Lights have gone out a long while ago, the whole family asleep as well as Thomas behind you, but you can’t seem to sleep.

All you can think about is the thick and hard bulge that rubs against you every few nights. Just the thought makes your cheeks warm up. It’s been in your head all day. While doing dishes, laundry, serving dinner. There hasn’t been one moment where it hasn’t slipped itself into your mind.

You’ve been up longer than you should’ve thinking about it, imagining what it might look like or even feel like, in your hands or even mouth or—

Just like clockwork, Thomas’s huffs start to brush your neck and hips start to move as his grip tightens around you.

You let him continue for a few minutes, just like he has been, before reaching your hand under the blanket.

You just can’t help it! You’re too curious! Sure, you can feel it when he humps but that's not enough for you. You need to feel what’s in store for you in a few months. And Tommy won’t mind, would he?

You’re hand travels down, under the blanket and over Tommy’s sleep pants, to the hard and aching bulge in his pants. You’re fingers lightly trace over it, breathe caught in your throat as Thomas’s grip gets tighter around your hips and his sounds a bit more louder. His hips seem to track and follow your movements, even in his sleep.

Now, feeling a bit more bolder, you gently cup and squeeze it, eyes flickering up to Thomas, a bit fearful that he might wake up. He doesn’t. Instead, his hips rut into your hand with heavy groans you’ve yet to hear from him.

Bitting your lip to keep yourself from having any sounds slip, you continue feeling him up, squeezing and feeling around your fiancé to your liking.

Thomas seems to like it too by the way his hips stutter into your hand, grinding like his life depends on it.

Eventually, he stops with one last heavy groan against your neck and hips falling slack against your hand, wet spot forming on the front of his sleep pants.

✩°｡🧸𓏲⋆.🧺𖦹 ₊˚ ✩°｡🧸𓏲⋆.🧺𖦹 ₊˚

The house is quiet. Mamas out at the gas station, Hoyt out where only god knows getting drunk, and Monty… well he’s wherever.

One of the rare moments you and Tommy get alone.

You’re on his lap while he sits on the bed, you’re legs straining to straddle his big thighs as your lips are on his, his mask pulled down just enough for it to be possible.

His hands kneed and grip your hips, pulling you closer as the kisses get progressively more heated.

You shift a bit on his lap, now suddenly feeling the hard-on he has under you, much like the ones late at night. He notices too.

You smile a bit to yourself and without breaking the kiss, you reach down and cup him just like you did a few weeks ago. He moans against your lips and his hips rut up to meet your hand.

You giggle to yourself. He acts just like he does in his sleep.

Thomas looks up at you, confused by your giggles.

You whisper everything in his ear, about every late night activity he does in his sleeps, watching as his face gets more and more flushed until he just flat out drops it into your chest, listening to you laugh more about his embarrassment.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺

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