#brian moser

Michael Myers (Halloween '78)

You're sitting on the bed watching Michael play around with his knife when the idea first comes to you. A sly smile escapes you before you turn your body to Michael with a serious expression on your face. "Michael, we need to talk." This was going to be hilarious!

Michael doesn't stop what he's doing. He only barely moves his face slightly towards you in acknowledgment that he's at least somewhat paying attention to you, and you almost don't know what to say as mischievous excitement and a tinge of fear clouds your thoughts. Is he even going to react?

"We need to break up. I...can't do this anymore Michael. I'm sorry."

His entire body stops, his hands freezing with the knife mid-twirl. He's almost like a statue, his face devoid of all emotion, like always. You feel a shiver run up your back. This....wasn't a good idea. You try to move closer to him, and reach an arm out to him when he suddenly grabs your wrist, stopping you.

His grip hurt. A lot. You wince in pain but he doesn't let go, but instead tightens it until you're almost positive he's going to break it.

"It was just a joke, Michael! Let go!" You beg him, and after a few moments, he does. You cradle your wrist. It's bruised, badly, but it wasn't broken. You can feel tears threatening to fall from the pain. This wasn't a threat from Michael, of course. This was a statement, a reminder to you who runs the show. You can't leave him. You'll die before you do.

He follows you into the bathroom when you go to bandage your wrist. You look into the mirror for a quick second. Michael stares back at you, his face empty. He isn't completely cruel, or at least maybe he tries not to be as he hands you the bandages and watches you wrap your wrist. He forces you back into bed immediately after, holding on to you tightly as you both settle into darkness. He kisses you on the very top of your head. This is how the boogeyman loves you, y/n.

Don't do that again, unless you want a broken wrist next time.

Thomas Hewitt (TCM Remake)

You wait until the day is nearly done and Tommy is settled down in your room to enact your plan. He's doing something with some leftover skin at your shared desk, hunched over until he hears you open the door and step into the room. His face quickly falls from joy to confusion when he sees the melancholic look on your face. He's immediately at your side, looking down at you with nervousness. What's wrong, y/n?

You sigh dramatically as you sit Thomas down on the bed, taking a long and exaggerated pause before looking up at him with what you hope is a convincing look of exhaustion.

"Thomas. I don't want to be with you anymore. I'm sorry."

The nervous energy that surrounded him is completely gone the moment you utter those words. His eyes stare blankly at you. It's hard to exactly make out his expression with the mask covering a good portion of his face, but you can tell it's a mixture of hurt, anger, and disbelief.

If you think he's about to let you go, you are sorely mistaken. He grabs your shoulders harshly and refuses to let go no matter how hard you struggle against him. His eyes are just barely glistening with tears.

His grip hurts you. It hurts even more when you start laughing, mostly out of nervousness. You've just broken his heart, and now you're...laughing?

"I'm sorry! I was just joking!"

He stares at you for a second before his entire body collapses into you, and the air is nearly squeezed out of you as he hugs you as tight as possible. You can hear a deep sigh of relief from him as you kiss his cheek as you apologize over and over. You didn't mean to upset him so badly.

He becomes extra clingy for a few days after. Following you around the house more, sitting extra close to you during dinner. Prank or not, he can't stop thinking about you trying to leave him.

Be nice to Tommy, y/n.

Dexter Morgan (Dexter TV Series)

You're lounging around in your apartment, waiting for Dexter to come home from his work when you get the idea. Dexter is an enigma to you, and you just desperately want to see how he'd react to you wanting to leave him.

You text Dexter that you need to talk when he gets home, and you only receive a thumbs up emoji in response. You were a bit disappointed in his seemingly nonchalant response, but that was just typical Dexter.

Dexter is sitting in the lab, finishing his latest report when he hears his phone ding. When he reads your message, his heart races as he takes a deep breath. "This is the end. They've finally sifted through the sheep's wool, and seen me for what I really am; and they want no part of it."

For however long Dexter has left at the station, he's overthinking about how you're going to end it. How you're going to yank his heart out of his chest and rip it into pieces. And how could he blame you? You do deserve someone better, don't you? When the day ends, he has to force himself to drive home, to face the inevitable.

"Are you breaking up with me?" You don't even have time to process Dexter's arrival as he opens the door and immediately asks you that question. You are caught so off guard, that you forget about the prank entirely. "What? No?" You both stare at each other, confused, when you suddenly remember your text from before and start laughing, much to Dexter's dismay. Is this really funny to you?

After you both settle and you explain your plan, you can see Dexter visibly sigh in relief. He fake laughs at the situation, trying to convince you (or maybe himself?) of the humor of the situation, but really he's just...confused. Why would you fake break up with him to be funny? Is this something couples do often? Do you expect him to also do these types of pranks?

Dexter overthinks your relationship for the next few days. He won't say anything to you outloud, but inside he's wondering if you really do want to leave him. Could he do anything to stop it? He certainly tries, giving you extra and somewhat awkward attention. It's hard for Dexter to be normal, and do normal relationship things on his own, so you immediately get suspicious when he suggests going out.

You have to point blank tell him you do not want to leave him. Dexter will nod and smile and say everything is okay now, but you can still see the smallest traces of worry on him. Instead of going out, you make dinner together and have a date night at home eating food and watching a movie to ease Dexter's mind.

Pranks just wouldn't go over too well for Dexter.

Brian Moser (Dexter TV Series)

You're lying in bed with Brian when you remember a prank a friend told you about. Brian is reading a book beside you, one hand absent-mindlessly toying with strands of your hair. This is the perfect moment to do it, you think. He'll be completely caught off guard.

"Brian. I need to speak with you about something."

He hums in response, reading one last word in his book before looking over at you with a smile on his face. "Yes?" Your heart flutters as he looks into your eyes, pure love and obsession swirling around in his dilated pupils. You almost don't want to go through with the prank. He just looks so loving, y/n.

"I think we should...take a break. I just-"

His hand is immediately gripping your hair, pulling it back so painfully that you can't even finish your sentence. You wince and grab his arm to remove it, but he doesn't let go. His eyes stare into you and his face has lost any loving affection it once held. He looks emotionless.

"What?" His voice is almost playfully dark as he questions you. Like it's a game. It is a game. Only, you didn't intend on being a player. You try to apologize, try to explain that it was all a joke, but Brian doesn't let go of you. His grip only tightens, forcing your head back even farther as tears swell in your eyes as you beg him to stop.

After a moment, he finally lets go. He smiles at you, and moves in to kiss the top of your head. You cringe as you feel his hand slither back into your scalp, toying with your hair as he was before. He's gone back to reading his book, like nothing ever happened. You try to blink away your tears.

He squeezes you a little too tightly that night, putting more weight on you than he should as you both sleep. He will not let you leave him. He would kill you for trying. Because he loves you, y/n.

Was it worth the pain, y/n?

Patrick Bateman (American Psycho)

You know it's probably not a good idea to prank someone so unstable, but the curiosity of how he'd react gets the better of you. You wait for him to come home, sitting on the couch practicing your sad face for when he walks in. As you hear the lock on the door turn, your heart jumps in anticipation.

Patrick's already had a long day at the office when he sees the sullen look on your face as you sit on the couch, waiting for him. He rolls his eyes as he takes off his suit jacket, annoyed already at the change in routine; you should be at his side already, kissing him and asking him about his day. He doesn't want to have to deal with whatever the hell is going on with you after the day he's had, but he begrudgingly sits on the couch anyways, sighing and waiting for you to say something. "Well?"

"Patrick, I'm leaving you."

He laughs. There's no humor in it, just disbelief and anger that he's desperate to hide. You're leaving him? Him? He just can't believe it. He's the perfect boyfriend, after all. Sexy, charming, rich, loyal. You are literally never going to find anyone better than him, y/n. Are you stupid?

"No you're not." He's still laughing as he says it, refusing to believe you'd actually be this idiotic. You actually think he'd let you go? Alive?

You can't calm him down. He flips from laughter to rage, and despite your claims at it all being a big joke, he just continues to get more and more enraged. He wants to yell and throttle you for even trying to entertain the idea, prank or not. You have to get on your knees and practically pledge your devotion to him for him to calm down.

He's obsessive for the next few days, lingering behind you as you do your regular household chores during the evening. He's like a panther stalking his prey, watching your every move, almost waiting for you to give him a reason to pounce, to keep you locked away forever.

brian could handle a lot of things. he could handle yelling, hitting, back talk(barely). but what he couldn't let slide was being ignored, not being spoken to, little side glances you thought he couldn't see.

it was pissing him the hell off the way you thought he would just let you keep acting this way. it was getting on his nerves to say the least, and no type of advice he took from anyone else was helping.

'just tell her you're sorry, you were in the wrong.' cheap shit, you knew that trick.

'make-up sex.' didn't go well by a long shot, you wouldn't even look at him.

'buy her something.' you took it, but didn't seem like you even cared.

you were mad at him real bad.

nothing was ever good enough for you, and his self control could only go so far. the two of you lived together, and he couldn't take it all when he had to see you almost every single day.

sneaky touches when you bumped past him, the way you perked yourself up each time you had worn something revealing and decided to make the grand idea to bend over in front of him specifically.

so you were just doing this on purpose? alright, he understood, no problem.

he already wasn't in a good mood once he got home, slamming shit around— his shoes, his bag, his lab coat. his eyes looked around for you, he needed you so bad and if you were still on this ignoring him bull shit? you weren't gonna have your day any better than he was having his.

he opened the door to his room, his hand gripping the door knob seeing your position. one of your legs up, your ass out to full view in which the lace nightie you wore did no justice on covering up.

weren't you perfect, so unsuspecting and sleeping so peacefully as if he wasn't here losing his mind all over your bratty self.

his knee dipped the weight of the bed as he crawled onto the mattress, his hands coming to your hips to prop you up a small bit; your panties poking out to his view and rubbing up against the rough denim of his jeans.

he felt the way your body twitched a little, squirming a slight bit and a quiet groan giving him a reminder you woke up.

"mmhn, brian?" the way you looked back, eyes no longer filled with defiance, finally. your finger rubbing at your eye to make sure no residue was left, and you blinking a small bit so you could see him clear.

"hm," he hummed, already looping his fingers round your underwear and pulling them down to your thighs. your whole expression read 'what are you doing?' but you knew what the hell he was doing.

"you still mad at me?" his voice was agitated yet calm, his thumb coming between your thighs and rubbing to the middle of your folds, not yet putting his finger inside yet.

you couldn't even answer, your body answering on its own with the way you wriggled back into his touch. "what are you talking—"

his other hand slapped at your thigh, not too harsh but harsh enough. "don't give me that. im not in the mood." he spread your thighs a little more, moving your rear back up so he could have you arch the way he wanted.

yeah, the way he wanted. you were being bitchy for your own benefit, what about what he wanted?

"brian.." he gave another thwack, shutting you up. his fingers changed up position, his middle finger delving inside whilst his thigh would rub you a little.

"don't move your hips, if you do you're gonna make it hard for me." ironic, you could feel his dick at your leg as of now.

He wouldn't slow down, for gods sake could he slow down? you were hanging onto the bed for dear life, your whole body jolting upwards with each harsh thrust he gave. he practically made no noise, only a few small grunts but it was all so he could hear was you.

each little noise turning into a big one, the way you'd try to hide them only for him to thrust at a different angle and have you get louder.

now did he miss this, no more snarky shit just you melting into his touch and pushing your ass back onto him for more.

he had grabbed your shoulders, lifting your back up to his chest and moving his hands to palm and hold at your tits. your head leaning back onto his shoulder, and his lips kissing at your jaw and neck had you dripping on his dick.

his fingers tore at the fabric which got in the way of your chest, a surprised gasp filled with annoyance with the way he couldn't even take it off. "i'll get you a new one— ah..don't worry about it."

his fingers pinched at your hardening nipple, flicking it in different directions and rolling it in between his fingers.