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saminsecret · 3 days ago

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Breakup prank on the slashers

I intended for this to be a more joking piece but i kind of locked in and made it pretty abusive. but they do it out of love so its okay 💕

i am so sorry i keep disappearing for months at a time. please don't leave im just very slow at writing </3 requests are seen and being written. next thing to come out is trying to escape in sleep part two!

characters include: Michael Myers, Thomas Hewitt, Dexter Morgan, Brian Moser, Patrick Bateman

CW for physical abuse

GN reader

After hearing about a new breakup prank trend going around among couples, you thought it'd be funny to participate with your own lover. What happens next...well that's entirely on you.

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.

This man is way too unstable y/n why the hell did you do that.

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ghoulbunni · 2 days ago

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brian moser x psychiatrist fem!reader

tags 🔪⋆.*:･ֶָ֢ explicit sexual content, 18+, kidnapping, acrotomophilia, sexually charged dismemberment (you survive but he takes a piece of you), horrorporn, medical kink, possessive behavior, body worship

You're a psychiatrist who works at the same hospital as Dr. "Rudy Cooper". And though Brian doesn't really like you, he is oddly obsessed with you. Maybe because you know he's somehow a fake, though you just can't say how, and don't fully realize how deadly a fraud he really is until it's too late. Not even after a masked man kidnaps you, and only lets you free after taking one of your legs.

Suddenly that odd, handsome prosthetist you work with is all kinds of helpful in crafting and personally fitting you with a new one. And somehow, even though he's helping you, it feels like he's fucking with you. Getting inside your head.

note: i gave you a surname because i hate 'yn ln' so you are officially known as Dr. Rose

chapter 1: no more coffee

No one else seems to see it but you. But there’s something so haunted about the new, handsome prosthetist you work with at Mercy Hospital; Rudy Cooper.

“Please,” he’d said when you first met him, dark eyes shining bright, “Call me Rudy.”

You must be the only person in the world who doesn’t trust him.

For one thing, his smile isn’t genuine. His gaze so often creased with an affable curve, yet their bedrocks are always dull and black. Cold. Unfeeling. Not at all matching that attractive, fake smile plastered so easily on his face.

He’s hiding something.

At least, you suspect he is.

Maybe you think this because of your background in psychiatry; his depthless gaze ticking so many boxes for potential sociopathy. Not that that is inherently a bad thing, but…

No, it isn't just that. Some instinct in you insists that there's more, but whenever you think you have a grasp on it, it slips right out through the door. Leaving you thinking you must just be paranoid. Suspicious about nothing.

It's probably nothing.

But, still…

Something about him–nothing, apparently–it puts you on edge, even so.

That nothing about him. It seems, somehow, to wear the rest of him like a skin. Makes him feel like a shadow pretending so well to be human. Like he’s hiding something in plain sight–something only you appear disquieted enough to see. And whatever he needs so much to hide, to bury some place so deep beneath this handsome charade, so masterfully that no one would ever think to peel it back and discover what was hiding underneath…

Something about that puts you on edge. Something about him does. Which is, of course, crazy–he's perfectly charming and everyone you work with loves him, all of his patients adore him. You're the only one whose thoughts twist up at the mere mention of his name or glance in his direction.

It really shouldn’t bother you as much as it’s started to. Maybe you’re developing some sort of complex. I mean, plenty of your patients are hiding things. Masking. Pretending. It’s human nature to bury the aspects of ourselves we don’t want others to see. But none of your patients do so quite as convincingly as he. None of them make you question yourself like he does.

Maybe you’re on edge for absolutely no reason.

You don’t remember when he started bringing you coffee almost every morning.

It had seemed so harmless at first.

What are you talking about–it is harmless. It’s coffee. And he’s always so nice when he brings it.

But.

Still.

Something about him…

To be honest, and if we’re overlooking the whole ‘you’re being paranoid’ thing…

It’s almost like he knows you suspect him of something.

Like he’s trying to ‘win’ you over.

Like your suspicious nature’s a challenge. One that he and all his mastery of playing people must beat. Either due to whatever he was seemingly hiding, in and of itself, or because it was merely a game to him; a game that he must win. Simply to prove that he could, that he will. That nothing–not even your wary, questioning nature–could stop him from championing.

Paranoid or no, one thing was certain; you’re sick of him gallivanting around your office all the time, being so friendly. And yes, you’re fully aware that makes you some kind of an asshole, seeing as how he’s done absolutely nothing to earn your distaste. But you have enough to worry about in life to also be constantly questioning just what the fuck this loveable, good-looking colleague could be hiding beneath all that seems faked.

This is why you’ve decided to put an end to it, regardless of whether that makes you an ‘asshole’ or no.

No more friendly outings to lunch together, no quick stops to the cafeteria or employee lounge. No more stopping by your psychiatry office unannounced, no more gossiping about the higher-ups. And definitely no more coffee.

He stops by your office again, as he so often does since he started working here a mere few months ago. He was the talk of Mercy Hospital for a while–that young, yet extremely talented prosthetist–with such a promising career, and did you hear that he’s single?

Most people thought that was a good thing, but you just saw a red flag, even if it was the same sort of flag you saw in you, being single yourself. Because why is someone as dashing and accomplished as he still on the market? He was certainly flirty enough to have someone on his arm, and yet the only person he ever bothered was you, and he never once asked you out. If he had, you could have turned him down already. It makes what you’re going to do this morning so much more awkward when you don’t have an aversion to romance as your scapegoat for sending him out. ‘You just give me a weird, creepy, somewhat… ‘I don’t even know what to call this but you seem like you’re hiding something’ vibe’ doesn’t exactly ease off the tongue sounding right.

Sunlight dazzles in through the small, bay window of your psychiatry office, lightly warming your chestnut desk, and… yep. Here he comes. You hear his footsteps drawing, and then he pops into your opened doorway like a handsomely budding rose.

He flashes that smile that wins everyone other than you over, though you’ll admit it at least speeds your pulse. You’re not blind, after all.

Speaking of roses.

“Dr. Rose,” he kindly greets, far too chipper for this early in the morning. Two coffees in his elegant hands, of course, and you ignore the pang of guilt that raps upon the walls of your heart.

It’s better this way. He can stop wasting his time pretending to be something he’s not, buying you coffee, and you can stop questioning his seemingly innocuous and nothing but friendly motives in a fit of rising paranoia. Win-win.

With it still being early enough for this uncaffeinated version of you to feel like a walking corpse, the little smile you offer in return across your desk feels forced.

Guess he isn’t the only one masking things this morning.

“Dr. Cooper,” you begin, and see his handsome smile falter.

“Uh oh,” he muses, lips pursed as he lingers in the door. “This can’t be good.”

He reads you so well.

Too well.

He’s a prosthetist, he’s not in psychology, so why is he better at unspooling people’s minds than even you are?

You stuff that into the column of reasons for why you’re justified to end things like this.

“We should talk.”

He quirks a brow. Leans one shoulder against the doorway; white lab coat stretched taut across the bridge of him. “Why do I feel like you’re breaking up with me?”

When that inexplicably warms your face, he kindly laughs.

“Relax, doctor,” he needles with a grin, “I’m just kidding.” His expression falls more grim. “But, seriously… what did you wanna talk about?”

You sigh. Feeling even more like an asshole than you have all morning anxiously reenacting this awkward encounter over and over in your mind.

Just say it just as you rehearsed it. It’s not that hard.

“You really don’t need to keep bringing me coffee every morning.”

That is not how you rehearsed it–you were supposed to say to never stop by your office again unless it’s for a professional reason! You’re already fucking this up!

His face dons the lightest, speculative frown. “I know, but…” He offers the smallest shrug from his casual slouch. “I like to. And I don’t mind. You’re like a zombie without it, so I’m just doing my part in keeping my colleagues in line…”

He laughs at whatever your constricted face is doing.

“It’s really not a big deal,” he assures. “I buy Gus in Housekeeping one, too. Black with a dash of irish cream. I don’t mind.”

Guilt creeps its spiderlegs over your mind. You really are an asshole. But you’re not backing out of this. You’ve been amping yourself up enough to actually go through with it for quite a while.

“Look…” you begin, and see his brows furrow. Rubbing one wrist sheepishly beneath your desk as you add, “I really appreciate the, um… The…”

A little smile creeps upon his face the longer he watches you floundering like the world’s most awkward, dying fish.

“The coffee?” he asks, and you’re forced to suppress how your ears heat up.

“Yes,” you say, more succinctly; adopting your psychiatrist’s tone. “Yes, the coffee. I appreciate it, and your, um… your friendliness, but…”

He exhales something like a laugh, tilting his head. “So you are breaking up with me.”

“There’s nothing to break up!”

His forehead’s creased at your heightened tone, and you yourself don’t fully know why you’re so defensive, other than for how embarrassing this is. You don’t have a good reason to end your friendship with him. But you’re ending it all the same.

“Look,” you try again, tucking your hair back a bit more tensely than what’s required. Not really meeting his gaze as you say, “I don’t really have time for relationships of any kind outside of work, and that includes fraternizing with colleagues.”

He eyes you for a moment in speculative silence. Seeming puzzled. A brand of suspicious all his own.

“What’s prompted this?”

You blink a few times at the question. Forced to consider his fluid, unreadable tone. “I beg your pardon?”

His dark eyes drip across your features as though searching for something. Uncharacteristically solemn, though he doesn’t seem sad or anything; he seems…

…You have no idea what he’s thinking. He’s perhaps the only person who comes in here who so effectively closes you off from their thoughts.

Just one more tally in the ‘remove this weirdo from your life’ column.

“I said,” he repeats, quite clearly; eyes never leaving the discomfort of yours. “What prompted this? You ending things?”

He waits while you can’t seem to answer. Impatient enough to add:

“I’ve never hit on you.”

Your face warms up again. “I know that.”

One brow slowly rises. “So is it because of that…? Or–”

Your embarrassment won’t allow you not to cut his line of questioning off.

“Look–this has nothing to do with you personally–”

Lies.

“–Or with whether or not you’ve hit on me, or…”

Why is this the most humiliating conversation ever?

You straighten yourself behind your desk. Run your palms flat across the length of your dark, pencil skirt beneath your chestnut desk.

You’re a professional. A decorated, medical journal-published doctor. Act like one.

“Dr. Cooper,” you try again, doing your best to sound calm, though it’s hard with that clever little smile of his this inspires, like he knows it’s all a front.

“Dr. Rose,” he returns, just as cordially.

You swallow your inhibitions. “I’m afraid I don’t have time for any outside fraternization while I’m at work beyond what’s immediately related to my patients and the psychiatry department at large.”

He scoffs at you.

The bastard scoffs at you, before flashing that handsome smile of his as though nothing’s wrong.

“So no more friendly hospital outings or professionally courteous coffees, then,” he wonders casually, “I presume?”

He’s really good at making you feel like an overly-cautious asshole, isn’t he?

“I’m afraid not,” you say, “and it’s nothing personal. I just… need to stay focused on my work. I have a research paper coming up.”

More lies. But what does it matter–he doesn’t know. Though you can’t help but think that those wheels spinning in his mind might suspect so.

If he does, he doesn’t note it. Merely smiles, before pushing up straight from his previous lean against your office doorway.

“Well,” he remarks, “I’d just hate to get in the way of all of that with a harmless, annoyingly friendly gesture.”

Your insides squinch up. “It’s not annoying, I just…”

He waits for you to continue, but you’re not about to tell him what this is all really about. You’ll sound like one of your overly paranoid patients.

He slowly smiles, though it feels performative, like so much else he does. A mask of playing nice. And for a moment, you both just watch each other like that. Both biting back your hidden thoughts. Yourself, too uncertain and unwilling to press on, while he…

…You still have no idea what he’s still doing here. Nor what he’s thinking at all.

“I’ll gladly pay you back for the coffee,” you say to excuse him, but he just kindly waves the offer off.

“No need, Dr. Rose,” he says, as charming as ever, though it barely scrapes the surface of his eyes. “I was happy to do it. And if you ever need some comradery or caffeine…” His olive gaze slowly creases. “You know where to find me.”

He leaves your coffee on the bookshelf by the door, which lampoons you with even more guilt than you’re already wracked with. Though it’s hard to regret your decision to finally go through with this with the way his parting glance raises every hair on your nape. With how it somehow makes you feel hunted.

#brian moser #rudy cooper #brian moser x reader #brian moser x you #dexter #rudy cooper x reader #rudy cooper x you #ice truck killer #bunni drabble

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