Unexpected Roommates | Slashers x Reader

Chapter 4: D 'Jed Olsen'

Next morning you wake to the less-than-inviting stare of Michael Myers. He's stood in the corner of your room to the right of the door by your window, motionless save for the occasional tilt of his head. You were laid on your right side, facing the window he was standing near. The moment your eyes flickered open and you spotted him, they squeezed shut again immediately, as if your eyelids could protect you from a blade to the throat like a mental shield. You began to panic, your eye nearest your pillow flickering open occasionally to see that yep, he hadn't moved an inch and you were sure he knew you were awake by now but you were too damn awkward to move. At last your alarm went off which told you it was 10 am. You usually got up earlier, but this alarm was a last resort for days you slept in.

Acting as if you'd been fast asleep until that moment, you kept your eyes closed and flipped over to smack your hand down on the snooze button. Not knowing what else to do, you nervously say,

"Good morning, Michael." you aren't necessarily surprised when he doesn't respond. You turn to him, hugging yourself self-consciously under his burning stare. "How long have you been standing there?" you ask, turning your head on a stiff neck, staring just above his eyes; you can't bear to look at him directly. Again, no response, obviously, so instead you climb out of bed and stretch your arms above your head. Your back no longer aches from the skirmish with D, but the simplicity of having laid stiffly in one position for who knows how long was enough to make your back ache like a mother f'er. A part of you says, in a joking manner, 'I wonder what murderer we'll encounter today?' but you push the thought away as if it were some atomic bomb, yet it sticks to the back of your mind like a burr. 'Wouldn't it be so funny if you went digging through Camp Crystal Lake? I'm sure Jason wants a place to stay!', 'I thought I heard something about a haunted mansion! Maybe you should give ghosts a chance!'.

You distract yourself by turning to Michael again.

"I'm going to make breakfast soon, if you're hungry." you smile, still a little tired. Surprisingly, laying idle for hours and hours with a mind swimming in a panicked frenzy isn't your definition of 'sleeping in', and the tears shed the night prior to this morning weren't helping. "Probably eggs and bacon or something." you mumble that more quietly as if you were talking to yourself, which you basically were. Yourself, or rather a tall, murderous wall, or maybe even a rock, but rocks were too expressive. You were sure that if Michael knew what you were thinking he'd have your decapitated head in his hands. You exit your room with a little too much eagerness, basically running out of Michael's view and into the hallway. You turn the corner sharply to head to the stairs, stumbling backwards as D comes racing towards your room at the same time. He isn't fazed by your sudden appearance, just instead seems to grow even more excited.

"Bacon and eggs? Like real, good, not crappy diner-bought bacon and eggs?" his voice was like that of a child on Christmas morning. He seemed ecstatic.

"Yeah, of course?" you were slightly confused, tilting your head as you righted yourself and turned back to the stairs. Michael had cut ahead and made it to the first floor taking the stairs three at a time, an easy task for those long legs of his.

"I haven't had homemade bacon and eggs in..." he stopped and counted on his fingers, "At least seven years, since I broke up with my girlfriend. Well, broke up if you know what I mean." he seemed suggestive, and you knew he had murdered her.

"Reassuring!" you joke, reaching the bottom floor yourself with D close behind, "Well, I hope they're up to your standards. I'm not looking to meet your girlfriend." It felt a little bit wrong to speak ill of the dead, but hey, you were taking care of two murderers without any guilt on your conscience.

"Don't you worry your pretty little face, I enjoy having you around doll." He hopped the last two steps, his boots stomping the ground with a loud sound. 'Doll' was a new nickname, but you didn't mind it, just like the other names he called you. Better than 'Bitch' and 'Brat' like what you'd grown up with. You shake your head to shoo the bad thoughts away like they were flies, stepping foot in the kitchen. Michael had taken a clearly reluctant seat on the island, stiff as a board as D came sliding into the seat next to him. "So, what's your favourite scary movie, big guy?" he rested his chin on his hand as he spoke, genuinely intrigued. Michael seemed thoroughly unimpressed, and you watched out of your peripheral as you grabbed the eggs and bacon from the fridge, getting to work. Ghostface waited patiently for a verbal response that would never come, seeming to finally get the idea and grab a notepad from the island a little to his left. "Come on, I'm curious Mikey!" He shoved the notepad and pencil into Michael's chest as if the Shape didn't have hands that could snap his neck like a twig. You could hear the utterly pissed off sigh come from under Michael's mask as he took the notebook with snappy movements. You heard the scribbling of a pencil, genuinely curious as to what Michael would say. Seconds later, D is hurriedly grabbing the notepad and holding it close to his face in an attempt to decipher the handwriting. He can't.