Hey Lau!! Thank you for the follow ๐ค I saw youโre in the Halloween fandom- thatโs awesome as I am too!! Just wondered what did you like most about Michael Myers? I love the little head tilt ๐
Hey lovely anon! โค๏ธ
I really love his hands and his petty sense of humour ๐
Hi! so I looovveee your prompts! It give me so many inspirations!! I have a dialoge idea for you! maybe character A its drunk and tells someone they like "can you lie to me again? tell me you love me?" I think its a good idea for a angst story haha
Thank you so much! Iโm glad they help you.
I love that prompt idea! Hereโs what I came up with:
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"You're always lying to me. Even when I think you're finally being honest. It's like you're conning me. I bet you've already sold my social security number."
"You're drunk. Let me help you to bed."
"And you know what? I'm not even mad. I like it when you pretend to care about me. Like now. What does that say about me?"
"I'm going to get you some water."
"I need a favor, [X]. For tomorrow. I probably won't remember this tomorrow. Can you lie to me again? Can you tell me you love me?"
series summary: Trapped under a mountain of debt to the Hydra club, it is only in moments when Bucky walks into your flower shop that you forget the cruelty of the biker clubs of this town. But a war is brewing. And Bucky will stop at nothing to keep you safe. (Biker!AU)
pairing: Bucky x reader
chapter word count: 8.7k
chapter warnings: smut (18+), vague sexual harassment, violent/threatening acts, physical assault (choking), protective!bucky x 10000, a fairly wide range of angst to fluff in this chapter folks
series masterlist / series playlist
The peonies were being stubborn. No matter which way you placed the stems inside the vase, they shifted into a heap to the right of the mouth as if gravity had suddenly changed its mind on where to tug. You frowned, trying to adjust the flowers again. This time, they stayed only a few seconds longer before they slowly crawled back to the right side of the vase. You groaned and slumped back into your chair.
Outside, rain was falling in heavy heaps from the sky. Dark clouds looming over the distance, thunder rumbling in quiet echoes. Business would be slow today because of it, sacrificing one of your remaining three days before Hydra would walk through the back door of your shop and claim the money you owed.
Your mind drifted to Bucky; the picture of a reluctant frown on his lips as heโd attempted to walk you home the night before. Brow furrowed in deep lines along his forehead, his hand gripped tightly in yours; fruitless bargains to ask to you stay with him grown quiet on his tongue. You could tell how badly he wished he could throw you over his shoulder and carry you to his apartment where he could be certain you were safe from the Hydra club. His hands had trembled with restraint with every step closer to the border.
But you couldnโt leave the shop behind, couldnโt abandon the last thread you held to your parents. Bucky understood on some level, but it didnโt touch the worry laced into his features. He had wanted to post someone from the club outside your doors as a precaution, but you shut the idea down quickly. You didnโt want to risk anyone else getting caught on the west side for you.
The red X had passed under your shoes and Bucky did not release your hand as if he were content to walk plainly in enemy lines only to see you safe in your apartment with his own eyes. You had to abruptly place a hand on Buckyโs chest to still his steps.
โGo home, Bucky. Iโve got it from here.โ
The flabbergasted look upon his face had made you laugh, even with tear stains still fresh upon your skin. With one hand, he covered your own upon his chest, with the other, he gestured to the dark overhand of the starlit sky. โItโs too dangerous.โ
โEven more so if youโre caught with me,โ you retorted, rather cleverly because Buckyโs argument died in an instant. It would be one thing if you ran into trouble on your own, another for Hydra to catch you on the arm of Bucky Barnes past the border. He knew it, too.
โFine,โ Bucky grumbled, reluctantly releasing your hand from his chest. He swallowed, kicking his feet on the sidewalk. โWill you at least stay on the phone with me until you get home? Appease me, honey. Please.โ
You pulled out your phone, quickly dialing his number as you stood inches away and brought the phone to your ear. His own began to ring and he mirrored your movements, though he didnโt look any more content about it.
โIโm okay, Bucky,โ you told him again because he needed to hear it. Even with the echo through the speaker, it wasnโt enough to sway the anxiety tugging heavy on his stomach. But he leaned into you and gently brushed his lips over yours โ chaste, lingering, sweet despite the rush of panic in his veins. The first kiss youโd shared since the lilacs. It felt like eons ago.
Quicker than you were ready for, and perhaps in an effort to restraint his own instincts to draw you into his arms and not let go, he pulled away and gave you a short nod.
You had felt his gaze as it followed you along the sidewalk until you disappeared over the hill โ the gentle, warm touch of his lips still lingering against your mouth. You knew it had taken every ounce of resistance in his body to plant his feet and watch you walk away, but you were grateful for his trust. Even if you were being stubborn and a little foolish, Bucky proved he would respect your needs, even when he disagreed. A loyalty like that was hard to find.
Youโd promised him through the phone as you locked the doors behind you that he had no reason to worry, even if it was a lie. Bargaining with the Hydra club was a dangerous game โ one your father had learned the hard way. You wouldnโt make the same mistake. Youโd pay your dues. Youโd hold your breath and wait for them to leave, because they always did.
It was only ever about fear, you reminded yourself. Power and control. They wouldnโt harm you as long as you were a source of revenue. They only meant to scare you. And still โ you worried for the day they pushed the boundary a little further, for the day when they decided your fear wasnโt enough.
You still had three days. Three days to make up the difference in your payment. Three days to convince Bucky not to start a war with the Hydra club because of it.
His voice still lingered in your mind as you returned to the peonies, stuffing a few more fillers into the vase of baby's breath and waxflower.
This impossible man โ believed to be a monster by the town he gave over pieces of his soul to protect. He had lulled you to sleep with stories of the 107, a laughter on his breath and yawn in his chest. Sweet and beautiful, in such contract to the wicked rumors on the streets.
You were grateful to see behind the curtain โ to know him as he was.ย Soย few did.
Then, your phone buzzed on the counter and you nearly mistook it for the rolling thunder hanging outside your windows.
Hey doll,ย the message read.ย Just checking in.
It was the compromise youโd made with Bucky before you left. If you wouldnโt allow him to post guards outside your shop or let him handcuff himself to you to ensure youโd never face Rumlow alone again, he only asked that you sent him a quick text every now and then. Prove his anxieties wrong.
You smiled at the message.
Iโm fine, Buck. A little bored though.
His next text came before you set the phone on the counter.
Need any help with the arrangements?
You laughed; lip drawn between your teeth as you stared down at the screen. Your heart ached a little when you thought of the bouquet heโd made for you โ the mess of disorienting colors and various flowers that did not belong together. The same arrangement youโd thrown in the trash when you'd been convinced of the rumors surrounding the 107. It had been wilted by then but you were holding onto it by a thread โ clinging to the nervous smile upon his face and that little glimpse of pride when youโd told him how well heโd done. You wished you had preserved the flowers the way Bucky had the single carnation hung up in the bar โ a perfect memory, untouched.
The bell chimed at the front of the store and you quickly set the phone back in the drawer.
The shop had beenย emptyย all morning, so the bell came as a welcomed blessing; music to your ears in time with the tambourine of a Fleetwood Mac song over the radio. The usual anxiety drained fromย itsย home in your chest as you felt the gentle tug of butterflies in your stomach. Buckyโs doing, you realized. It gave you the excitement back in your veins, the love of the flowers and the shop your parents had left to you in their passing.
Youโd accept nothing less than a premier order of your best bouquets. This customer wouldnโt know what hit them. You turned your eager smile to the door, ready to charm the hell out of your first customer of the day.
It was as if you'd sprinted headfirst into a brick wall; your bones splintering, air ripped violently from your lungs.
Your smile sank as a cold dread iced goosebumps along your skin. Frozen, as if you could see your own breath inside the warmth of the shop. Stone, as if any movement at all would give way to theย predatorย inching through the doorway.
You saw his jet-black hair first. Then, the craters of scars along the side of his face as his lips drew up into a thin, sinister grin. If it were possible for the broken tiles to open up and swallow you whole, you would have dropped several stories into the dirt and grime โ suffocated with the worms and bones. It would have been a comfort in comparison.
Brock Rumlow stood in the doorway to your shop, hands tucked tight into the pockets of his leather jacket; his frame stoic under the pale lighting โ a vision of a cold, cunning demon lingering in the shadows. Behind him, Jack Rollins shook off excess rain onto the floor, drawing puddles of mud into the store under his boots.
โHello, darling.โ Rumlow kept his stare on you as he slowly unplugged the neon โopenโ sign, the bright light flickering to the dull, colorless hue. The music stopped playing overhead as if it too knew of the monster slipping through the shadows. โDid you miss me?โ
You flinched as he locked the door behind him, the sound of the latch echoing into the too quiet space. The slight twitch of a grin pressed against his left cheek โ amusement in your fear of him. Your hands barreled into a first, the absence of a certain keychain in your grip leaving you feeling empty, defenseless.
โI still have three days,โ you managed to say.
Silence followed for only a second before Rollins released a full, heavy laugh. His hand clutching over his stomach.
โHear that, boss?โ he sneered. โSays she got three days!โ
Rumlow rolled his eyes, brushing past Rollins dismissively. โIโm not here for the money.โ
The wet imprint of muddied boots tracked into the shop, leaving a trail over the white tile floors. Rumlow trailed his gaze over the rows of flowers. It did not carry the same look of admiration and gentle awe you often saw in Buckyโs eyes as he watched you work, as he stared at the beautiful bouquets and asked you questions about the flowers with such open sincerity it made your heart flutter.
No โ Rumlowโs gaze was made of arrogance and disgust. He saw no beauty within the delicacy of the quiet, lovely colors. They were too fragile. Too feminine. They seemed to mock the darkness etched into his clothing. Taunted the shadows clinging to his every step. Sneered at the shriveled hole inside his chest.
Slowly, Rumlow dragged a finger along a vase by the door, tracing the mouth as if urging the glass to sing. An unsettling cold within his hazel gaze met yours, a smirk upon his mouth, as he hooked his fingertip into the lip of the vase and tugged.
Slow motion as it fell, slipping through the air. The glass shattered against the tile โ purple ceramic fractured into pieces by his feet, the water and dirt spilt between the cracks, flowers tossed to the ground in a heap. You bit down on your tongue, wincing as copper spilled into your mouth. The weight of your fatherโs gold watch on your arm was suddenly heavy enough to drag you down under pavement, sink into the dirt itself.
He shared an unsettling look with Rollins.
You tried not to react as Rollins knocked over an arrangement along the windowsill, kicking at the stems and stomping his boot onto the broken flowers โ glass cutting into the fragile petals. It was no use. You felt each broken shard of the vases as if they had cut through your own chest. You turned away from his destruction, focusing your stare instead on Rumlow.
โWhat do you want?โ you said, surprised by the strength in your own voice. Beyond the windows, thunder was screaming over the hills. Shadows cast over the sidewalk. The backdrop to many of your nightmares.
Rumlow raised a brow at you, intrigued by your demand. He studied you for a moment longer, allowing the splatter of rain against the windowpanes to fill the shop and accompany the growing tension in the air. He thrived on it โ prolonged it just to watch you squirm. Youโd never spoken to him like that before, with such clarity and force. His tongue jetted out across his bottom lip, his stare slipping slowly to your feet before it trailed up again. Lingering over the lines of your body.
โI wanted to be sure my investment was still mine.โ
You swallowed what tasted like bile as Rumlow knocked over an entire table โ hundreds of dollars' worth of flowers and vases crashing to the floor. Ceramic and glass shattering upon impact. You recoiled despite your efforts, your fear splintering through the cracks of your armor. Rumlow noticed โ his wicked grin growing just a little higher as he squashed hydrangeas under his boot.
โIโll have the money,โ you pressed, your hands weak from their grip. Burning. Aching. The slightest pinch of pain as bloodied fingernails scraped against your palms. โI swear, on Tuesday, Iโll--โ
Rumlow picked up a vase and with a vicious grunt, chucked it across the room with all of his force. It shattered against the wall, crashing like the strike of thunder hanging over the town.
"DIDNโT I FUCKING TELL YOU THIS WASNโT ABOUT THE MONEY?!โ
Tears blinked in your eyes as you nodded, gaze fixated on the floor. You could vaguely watch as Rumlow brush his hands down his leather jacket, rolling out his shoulders. He exhaled a steady breath as if he hadnโt allowed the monster to rush to the surface just seconds earlier.
โLook at me,โ he ordered, his voice calm,ย deadly.
Slowly, you dragged your eyes in his direction but you could not bear to see his face. Instead, you stared beyond him to the windows outside, blurring his figure within your vision though he did not seem to notice. He licked his lips.
โI heard a rumor youโve been whoring yourself out to the 107,โ Rumlow spat, the very mention of the biker club in the east like poison against his tongue. โDonโt want you thinking you can pull one over on me by getting into bed with those pricks. Those bastards can fuck you all they want, but you belong to me, you understand? Your debt is owed toย me.โ
You held your breath, keeping your focus steady on the rapid fall of rain outside the windows โ watching the puddles splash under the impact, the heavy droplets falling like craters into the water.
With your mind on the rain, you could not feel the agonizing drop in your stomach or the terrible race of your own heart at the mention of the 107. You couldnโt feel your seams being torn apart one by one, ripped through the tension until you split in half. The sound of the rain against the windows was the only thing keeping you grounded, keeping you steady.
โI said,โ Rumlow growled as he bounded across the room, his hand darting out and clamping tight around your neck.ย โDo you understand?โ
You nodded frantically as his nails dug into your skin, talons in place of fingers. You didnโt dare to claw at his hand โ didn't dare to fight back โ because you knew it would only edge him on, would only urge him to close his grip just a little tighter. Heโd smirk as the life left your eyes just to spite the ounce of strength you had mustered.
Rumlow leaned forward, brushing his nose against a tear as it slipped over your cheek โ reveling in the evidence of fear rippling through your body. He squeezed just a little harder, enough to let you know that he could cut off your air supply without any effort at all, enough to make you fear for your life, and only then did he release his grip. Gasping for air, you fell to a heap on the floor; fell โ just as helpless, as broken as the flowers littering the floor of your shop.
It was entirely possible Rumlow was still speaking โ maybe giving orders to Rollins โ but you couldnโt hear it. The rainfall had consumed you entirely; like a blanket draped over your trembling shoulders, shielding from the destruction around you.
You didnโt move an inch as Rollins barreled his way through the shop โ laying waste to the room youโd once run around in infant sandals, where your parents had danced amongst the daisies under the moonlit spotlight, where youโd made crowns of discarded flowers, where you found your joy and peace and contentment, where you grew to trust a man who had begged to spare you from this very fear.
Every vase broken upon the floor was muffled by the deafening storm in your ears. Every stomp of muddied boots as he dragged the flowers under his heel, unheard. Laughter echoed into the shop โ wicked and evil and youย did not hear it at all.
Memories tarnished under the violence of broken shards and crumpled petals.
Lilies that Bucky had picked up from the ground on his first stroll into your shop, presenting to you with a blush in his cheeks as if heโd handpicked it from the garden himself โ tossed to the rainwater and mud, soaked with dirt and broken under boots.
Delphiniums as blue as his eyes, the same flowers your mother had planted outside the shop and the ones Bucky had purchased for the Centenarian โ destroyed in crumbled heaps.
Everywhere you looked โ fractured imagesย followed;ย the sweetness of their memory dirtied by the hands of violent men.
โYouโll be smart to remember exactly who you belong to,โ Rumlow sneered over his shoulder, his voice thick with venom as glass crunched under his boots. โIโll do a hell of a lot worse to you than we did this shop if you defy me.โ
Jack Rollins laughed under his breath; taunting you, daring you to push him over the edge and grant him the opportunity to follow through on the threat of his unwanted hands.
Then, they were gone. The front door was left open โ the rush of wind and rain sweeping in through the shop.
Hours could have passed as you waited on the titles, laid amongst the broken ceramic and crumpled flowers after they left, clinging to your knees. Days could have passed and it would not have allowed the panic to rinse clean of your skin or the fear to release its claws around your heart.
In the windows, Rumlow and Rollinsโ faces appeared in violent, ghosted flashes before the strike of lightening illuminating the street carried them away. A frantic memory.
Lightningย struck. Thunder boomed.
You barely flinched at the sound โ too lost in the numbing echo of the rain.
Slowly, your shaking hands fumbled for your phone.
***
Bucky was digging his way through the paperwork in the back office when Nat found him. The Centenarian was only profitable enough to keep itself afloat and put some pocket money in the 107โs hands, but he was certain there had to beย something.ย Heโd find a way to help you pay off the debt and crawl out from the noose Hydra had rung around your neck. He had to.
There had to be some spare funds around the bar somewhere. Maybe he could cut costs by dropping that awful craft beer from tap that Tony insisted on. He could sell some of the tables and chairs that rarely were used. Could even consider putting the jukebox up online. It would fetch a good price but the 107 might turn on him completely for the mere suggestion.
He could sell his bike.
The thought crossed his mind with little hesitation and he paid no mind to the tight twist of pain and grief in his chest. It was nothing in comparison to the memory of the tears lining your face as he held you in his arms on the floor of this office the night before. Youโd resigned to this fate โ to the knowledge that the Hydra club would always hold the keys to the shackles upon your ankles. You didnโt believe there was any hope of seeing the other side of this. You couldnโt. It was a defense mechanism. It was how you dealt with it and survived.
Buckyโs heart clenched at the thought โ of the image of you standing so bravely in the face of men like Brock Rumlow and Jack Rollins. It made him sick to think of you laid bare at their feet, submitting to the mistakes your father had made and chained to his debt. Nausea coiled in his stomach for the weeks youโd kept this burden from him, for the time he could have helped โ even if all he could do was hold your hand.
Bucky tossed a stack of papers to the ground with a grunt. They fluttered up into the air before they settled across the office floor. Thereย hadย to beย something.
โBucky,โ Natasha called slowly from behind him, an unfamiliar concern etched into her voice that made Bucky drop the files in his hands. He looked up at her and right away noticed the tight clench of her jaw, the way her eyes flickered away; not to the ground, not to his feet, but to avoid the tension of his gaze on her. His stomach dropped.
โWhat is it?โ
Natasha rarely wore her heart upon her sleeve. She had an impeccable ability to smother her emotion deep inside her chest where it burned and consumed all on its own โ without a trace of the evidence filtering to the surface.ย So,ย when she met Buckyโs eye again, he knew something was wrong. He knew before she handed him the phone and he heard your voice break on the other end of the line.
***
Bucky was blinded by red the entire sprint to your shop; soaked from the rain down to his bones, his pulse thumping louder than the thunder crackling overhead. The moment heโd held the phone to his ear, heard the quiet whimper in your voice and the break of a sob, heโd started running. Slammed right into the office door and splintered the hinges, barreling through the bar. Heโd shouting at Sam and Nat to stay behind when they chased after him, but they conveniently ignored his orders.
Through desperate sobs you had pleaded with him not to come โ to not risk running into Rumlow and Rollins when theyโd only just left โ but Bucky didnโt care.ย Screwย the damn border. There wasnโt a chance in hell he would sit idly by while his girl cried over the phone, huddled in aftermath of what Hydra had done to your shop. He knew it was retaliation for your connection to him. Heย knewย this was his fault for getting involved with you in the first place and with every sniffle he heard through the speaker, guilt twisted like a knife to his gut.
If only heโd stayed away that first morning. If only he hadnโt convincedย himselfย it was harmless to check on the pretty flower shop owner on the west side. If only he had theย decent senseย to not drag you into his shit. But somewhere, deep down, he knew that Rumlow would have found a way to do this to you anyway. He would have terrorized you and broken you down even beyond your relationship to Bucky. It was what he did.
He shouldered his way through the front door and stepped onto the hard crunch of broken glass. He didnโt allow the noise to startle him, to give him pause. He couldnโt.
โY/n!โ Bucky shouted, breaths panting in his chest as he frantically looked around the shop. It was as if bomb had been set off inside, not a single table or vase left untouched. All of it โ shattered to the ground, flowers laid in broken heaps upon mud-soaked floors. The lights were turned off, with only the dim cast of the cloud covered storm providing light inside.
โWhere are you, sweetheart?โ Bucky tried again, willing his voice softer than the rage boiling inside him. He looked to the table of lilies youโd made just days earlier โ the painstaking care you took with every flower. They were scattered onto the tile, stomped under the heel of a heavy boot coated in mud. The petals were too fragile to withstand such violence.
Carefully, he stepped over the broken flowers, unwilling to do them any more damage. It was only after he crossed to the back stretch of the shop that he found you on the floor, back pressed tightly against the countertop, arms wrapped around your knees. Your phone was gripped so tightly in your hand, your arm was trembling โ his name still lit upon the screen.
He reached out to touch you and the moment his fingertips grazed against your skin, you flinched; the movement so violent, so panicked, that you physically recoiled away from him, breath hitched in your lungs. Bucky held his hands in the air defensively, holding them up for you to see, and slowly, you turned to look at him.
When the realization settled and the hot flush of tears pressed down the sides of your face, the first thing to break on the wavering ache of your voice was an apology.
โIโm sorry,โ you cried, your entire body trembling. โI--I shouldnโt have called you. I'm sorryโโ
Buckyโs stomach lurched and he quickly drew you into his arms. The phone slipped from your hand, dropping to the floor. Blood was crusted in your palms from where your nails had dug into the skin. Faint marks discolored along your neck. It was an effort to not allow his rage to consume him entirely.
โItโs not your fault, honey,โ Bucky murmured against your hair, his hands sliding along your spine and wrapping tight at the middle of your waist. He couldnโt get close enough โ couldn't feel you enough to know you were safe. He eased you off the floor, holding your weight against him, even as you trembled in his hold. โIโve got you. Iโm here, sweetheart. No oneโs gonna hurt you.โ
He pressed his lips to your temples, his heart only easing as he felt you begin to relax in his arms. Your breathing began to slow, your rapid pulse soothing the longer he held you. You melted against him.
โYou werenโt supposed to come. Itโs not safe for you here,โ you murmured against Buckyโs neck, unwilling to let go of your grip around his shoulders. He didnโt mind, not as he breathed in the floral scent in your hair, not as he could feel every beat of your heart against his chest. Your gentle exhales were warm against his skin. Proof that you were alive and safe in his arms.
He knew you meant it, that you hadnโt intended he cross the border for you. You were scared and desperate and youโd only wanted to hear his voice, to remind you that you would be all right. It was what you told him on the phone when he answered. You could handleย it,ย youโd said to him. You wereย strong enoughย to handle it even through your tears, through your painful gasps for air.
Your insistence broke his heart. You didnโt have to carry this on your own, didnโt have to prove to him or anyone else that you wereย strong enoughย to handle the violence and the trauma that no one should ever have to endure. You didnโt need to prove a damn thing to him. He knew you were strong. He already knew.
โIโll always come for you,โ Bucky said quietly, his lips pressed to your cheek. โAlways.โ
He tried to draw his eyes away from the marks on your neck, the very clear imprint of a hand that had grabbed you. His hands shook with the effort.
Glass crunched under a boot by the door and you winced, startled to find Sam and Natasha standing quietly at the edge of the shop. Natasha wore a tight line over her lips; Sam, an awkward wave. You gaze shot back to Bucky, wide eyed and, if he was mistaken, perhaps a little angry.
โI couldnโt have stopped them if I tried,โ Bucky explained, โand Iย tried.โ
You sighed, still holding into Buckyโs arm as you turned to them. โI'm sorry, IโI didn't want any of you caught in this mess.โ
โYouโre one of us now, kid,โ Sam replied with a simple shrug. He picked up a handful of flowers from the ground, frowning at the bent and broken stems. โYou donโtย gotย much of choice now. Weโre here. We're involved. Donโt try to get rid of us โcause it wonโt work.โ
He winked at you and for once, Bucky was grateful for Samโs annoying habit of lightening even the darkest of moments. He shared a short glance with Bucky, one that spoke more words than either of them could voice aloud โ a quiet understanding, a bond beyond blood. The acknowledgement that he would follow Bucky into the west at a momentโs notice. No hesitation.
โBut, Iโโ You shook your head, gripping aย handfulย of Buckyโs wet shirt. โYouย barely know me. I donโt deserveโโ
โHush.โ Natasha stepped forward, setting her hand gently upon your shoulder. โYou donโt have to face this alone, Y/n. Thatโs how the whole family thing works.โ
The disbelief was evident on your face as you simply nodded. Your grip on Buckyโs shirt tightened and he began to rub gentle circles on your back. Natasha grabbed the broom from the wall and began sweeping away the soil and glass on the floors. Sam already had his arms full of broken flowers as he discarded them into the now empty bins. Bucky watched your expression as you realized what they were doing โ a strange mix of devastation and appreciation coating your features.
โI donโt know what to say,โ you murmured, quiet enough only Bucky could hear. It didnโt matter that you met Natasha and Sam less than twenty-four hours ago. They knew what you meant to Bucky and that was enough. Blind loyalty and trust. It was unconditional.
โWeโll clean the place up,โ Bucky promised, pressing his lips to your forehead. โYou just hold steady for us, okay?โ
It took almost an hour before the three of them were able to discard the broken flowers to the dumpster outside, sweep away the soil and glass, and wash the tiles clean of mud of boot tracks. You watched quietly from your position sitting upon the counter, your hands gripped into the edges of the wood until Bucky was sure they might snap.
You didnโt look like yourself. Not with the frown etched low on your lips and the heavy weight in your eyes. Your cheeks were still shiny under the dim lighting from your tears, your lips swollen from how badly youโd bitten them. The sunshine and effortless charm he was used to had long faded in favor of a devastating storm in mirror to the one raging outside the door.
Once the shop was cleaned up, it was evident how much damage Rumlow and Rollins had done. There wasnโt a single flower left inside the shop โ your entire inventory destroyed.
Bucky sighed, slowly making his way back to you. โI know you donโt want to leave this place, but I really thinkโโ
โCan I stay with you?โ you interrupted, hands jolting in search of his. They clamped down against his fingers, gripping painfully tight as if you wereย afraidย heโdย disappearย if you let go. โI canโt-- I canโt be here. Not alone. Iโโ
โYes,ย honey. Yes, of course,โ Bucky tugged you into his arms. Heโd been working up a whole speech in his head the entire time heโd been cleaning in hopes of convincing you to come back with him. Heโd even planned on asking to sleep on the floor of your apartment if youโd said no again. The idea of leaving you after this โ to let you return to the numbed, terrified ghost heโd found curled up on the floor... It was unbearable.
โIโll need some things,โ you murmured quietly, almostย embarrassed, but the heat seemed to fade from your cheeks as Bucky kissed your temple.
He turned to Sam and Nat. โYouย guysย head home. Weโll be fine from here.โ
โYou sure?โ Sam was always one to question orders, wasn't he?
Bucky nodded. His arm draped around your shoulders, tugging you closer. โIโve got her. Go.โ
A heavy silence hung inside the shop after they were gone. The rain seemed to echo louder now that the room was entirely empty โ no hanging plants or bouquets by the windows, no tables fill of bright, colorful flowers to offset the startling darkness left behind. You leaned your head against Buckyโs shoulder, holding tight to his waist.
โCome on,โ Bucky eased, guiding you to the back stairs. You moved like putty in his arms. Bucky had half a mind to carry you up the stairs himself but there was strength gained in every step you took. You didnโt look over your shoulder to the shop as you climbed, but you kept Buckyโs hand gripped tight in your own.
As you stepped inside your apartment, Bucky lingered by the door. Shuffling his feet still wet with rain against the welcome mat. You disappeared into the back bedroom and Bucky tucked his hands into his pockets. This wasnโt the way he had wanted to see this side of you โ the flowers woven over the mantle place, the coffee mugs on the living room table surrounded in circled stains to the wood, the leftover pizza box sitting upon your kitchen counter โ but he was grateful for it anyway.
You emerged from the bedroom a few minutes later with a small duffle bag. You paused when you crossed into the living room and he gave you a warm smile, his gaze flickering down to the bag where yourย initialsย were hand-stitched into the fabric.
โIs this too much?โ you asked, suddenly nervous. โI didnโt know how much to pack orโโ
โYou can stay with me as long as you need.โ
You sighed, the panic seemingly melting from your body. Heโd let you stay forever if you wanted, though he didnโt give voice to the thought. He snagged your bag from your grip with a low chuckle at your protest and headed to the door.
He held his hand out for you after you locked up the apartment and when your fingers intertwined to his, he felt your heart rate begin to even. Comforted under his touch. You didnโt dare a look back to the empty remnants of your shop the entire walk toย the east.
***
Buckyโs apartment was smaller than you expected. Perhaps you were still too caught up in the picture of the money laundering biker club and their faithless leader, you'd forgotten that Bucky was still a kid who grew up with a single mother and put his life savings into an old bar he had built up from scratch with his best friend.
The couch was frayed at the edges with claw marks down by the posts as if a cat at once taken to the legs as a makeshift scratching tower. Newspapers were lined by the door and old Styrofoam coffee cups from the cafรฉ down the street filled his trashcan. On the wall was the same photo from Buckyโs phone โ a perfectly captured moment of the 107 club. You recognized the faces this time as you brushed your fingers over the dust on the frame. You were smiling before you noticed Bucky watching you.
โIโll put your things in the bedroom,โ he said with a nod and then, he disappeared behind the door.
You shuffled your feet, awkwardly pacing around his living room while you waited. You werenโt sure whether the sudden rush in your chest was a lingering aftermath of what had happened in your shop or if the possibility of sharing a bed with Bucky had left you feeling weak. But then, he emerged with a pillow and blanket in hand for himself and tossed it to the couch. The disappointment sinking inside you was not missed.
โCan I get you anything? Tea? Water? Something to eat?โ Bucky asked nervously, rubbing his hands on his thighs. You only then noticed that he had changed while he was gone โ donning sweatpants and a thin t-shirt with the name of the local high school printed in long faded lettering over his chest. It was the most relaxed you'd ever seen him, even despite the obviousย awkwardย nerves tingling through his skin.
โIโm okay,โ you told him sincerely, setting a hand against his wrist to still his anxious hands. โIโll just be a minute.โ
Bucky nodded as you passed him on the way to the bedroom. You could feel his eyes following you even as you closed the door behind you. The adrenaline was still hot in your veins. It had to be.
You hadnโt even bothered to fold the clothes in the duffle โ simply tossing handfuls of clothing into the bag with little thought or care to what it was. You swallowed, tugging out the sleep set you usually wore on warm summer nights. The top was tighter than you remembered and you quickly shoved it back into the bag. Pulling on the shorts, you looked around the room and found one of Buckyโs shirts folded on top of his dresser; like maybe heโd placed it there fresh from the laundry and forgotten to put it away.
You slipped the fabric over your head, sighing at the wash of his scent wrapped around you. When you stepped back into the living room, Bucky was waiting on the couch, sitting at the far end the cushions.
โHey, doll,โ he began, his gaze still on the television as he turned off the evening news, โI wanted to ask you some questionsย aboutย what...โ He froze. โIs that my shirt?โ
When he turned to you, an unreadable expression consuming every ounce of his features, you felt a rush of heat to your face. Your hands slipped over the cotton fabric, brushing it over your stomach.
โIs that okay? I thought it might be more comfortable than what I brought. I didnโt pack very well, I guess.โ You bunched the fabric in your hand. โI can change ifโโ
โNo,โย Bucky interjected, a helpless smile easing up his lips. โIt, uh, it looks nice on you.โ
You tugged your cheek between your teeth. Your heart was picking up again under his stare and you felt the way it dropped down to the exposed length of your legs. You shivered. But as you looked at Bucky again, something sobered in his expression. He tapped the cushion on the couch beside him and you crossed the room and sat down beside him.
He sighed, hands gripping into the couch. โWill you tell me what happened?โ
You watched the way his knuckles whitened in his grip.
โWhy was Rumlow there?โ Bucky asked, an ache that sounded terribly like guilt breaking in his voice. โYou still have three days, right? He shouldnโt have been there. The only reason I can think of isโis he knows about us. Dot must have told him. Iย knewย she would. I shouldnโt have left you alone over there. I should haveโโ
โHe doesnโt know,โ you said, cutting Bucky off. You grabbed his hand from the cushion, gingerly massaging the tension from his fingers. He furrowed his brow at you, urging you to continue. You sighed. โI mean, heย knowsย but... not really. He thinks the 107 is trying to undermine his control over May Flowers. I think he suspects that weโre onlyโ that Iโm justโumโthat itโs onlyโโ
You swallowed, heat burning on your skin under Buckyโs watchful gaze. You couldnโt voice it aloud, the idea that Bucky might be using you in one way or another โ for power and control over his enemy through your body alone.
โHe doesnโt know who you really are to me,โ Bucky said, understanding what you couldnโt voice aloud. He brought your hands to his lips, sweetly kissing the tiny pricks of scars on your palms left behind from the shattered glass. โThatโs good, doll. He doesnโt know the kind of leverage he has then.โ
You nodded, lost in the way his lips ghosted along your skin. Warm. Wet. Wanting. You brushed your tongue over your bottom lip as you watched him delicately slide his thumb over the small scrapes on your skin. Almost as if he might be able to heal them under his touch alone.
โWho am I to you, Bucky?โ you asked slowly, quietly, as if the very question might shatter the distance between you.
Buckyโs eyes fell upon yours; ocean blue sinking into your embrace. There was an innocence there, a layer of surprise lost in the grey, because he had been certain that you knew. But you only returned his gaze with a hopeful longing that could not be quelled by anything but his words alone โ his voice, his confirmation.
โYou are... everything.โ Bucky sank his lips to your fingertips one by one. โYou are the woman that has a hold over me from the moment I met you under the streetlamp outside the bar. The woman I would burn this city to the ground for; live up to the monster this town believes I am for. You are the woman that had ruined me beyond measure and breathed new life into my bones. You are...ย everything.โ
There was no trace of hesitancy in his voice, no lingering threads of panic or remorse. They were spoken true, as if the weight if carrying them alone had become too much of a burden, as if speaking them aloud had finally lifted the boulder from his back and granted him salvation. A truth heโd known for a long time but would not dare to speak.
You watched helplessly as Bucky peppered his lips along your wrist, moving slowly up your forearm. His eyes glanced up to yours, waiting on your response, though he did not rush you. His lips trailed along your skin, inching higher, until slowly, he made his way to your neck.
โBucky,โ you sighed, eyes fluttering closed as his tongue swept over the sensitive skin, over the tender marks where Rumlow had clamped his grip. Soothing the violence from your body, replacing the fear you once held with comfort and affection. His hands pressed gingerly along your hair, massaging into your spine.
โYou donโt have to say anything, doll,โ he murmured sweetly between kisses. โJust thought youย shouldย know where I stand.โ
He lingered a final kiss to your jawline before pulling back. You whined in his absence,ย instinctivelyย reaching back for him. He chuckled low on his breath.
โYouโve been through enough tonight,โ Bucky warned, his voice as gentle as his touch. โI donโt want to cross a line if youโre not there with me.โ
You chewed at the edge of your lips, admiring Buckyโs restraint if only for a moment between your lingering annoyance. You pressed onto your knees, crawling over the cushions until you met him, swinging a thigh over his lap and settling on him. Bucky sucked in a tightย breath;ย his hands raised awkwardly by his sides.
โYou say these things to me, you kiss me like a starving man, and you expect to walk away so easily?โ You slipped your hands along Buckyโs neck,ย fingertipsย playing with the short strands of hair along his scalp.
โYou know how I feel for you, honey. I couldnโt help myself,โ Bucky whispered, his voice strained. He reached behind his neck, grabbing a hold of your wrists and bringing them in front of him, holding steady. โBut thisโthis is something I need you to want the way I do. Not because youโre high on adrenaline or looking to replace the fear you felt earlier with something else. I need you want this. Want...ย me.โ
You heart cleaved. โYou think I donโt?โ
Bucky clenched his jaw. โI think youโve been through hell tonight.ย Iโveย put you through a lot, Y/n. Just days ago, you still believed me to be the villain of the east. I want you to be sure.โ
โAre you so afraid that I might actually feel the same way?โ You tugged your wrists from his hold, slipping from his fingertips like putty. His hands sank back to his sides as you drew careful lines along his jaw with the gentle brush of your nails. He shivered.
โDo you?โ he asked, his voice barely a whisper, afraid to hope and so uncertain of your answer itย broke your heart.
There was no hesitancy in your response.
โYes.โ
And then, you kissed him.
It began gently. Tender nips against his lips, your hands pressed against the sides of his face. Slowly, his hands made way to your back, tracing circles along your spine, fingertip slipping under the fabric and touching over bare skin. When his tongue swept against yours, drawing you closer, your grip tightened into his hair and the kiss was no longer sweet, no longer mindful and gentle.
It became desperate. Hungry. Your hips rolled over his, seeking purchase, and Bucky groaned into your mouth, his hands pressing taunt against your lower back.
โOff,โ he gasped, tugging at his own t-shirt laid against your skin. โTake this off, honey. Please.โ
You raised your hands, allowing Bucky the honor himself. It was tossed to the corner of the room, the cool touch of air conditioner barely upon your skin before you felt the heat of Buckyโs mouth against you. He guided you to lay upon the couch, his lips a wet trail over your skin. He grabbed a firm hold of his own shirt at the collar at the nape of his neck and in one yank, pulled it over his head and discarded it to the floor.
It was the first time you saw his tattoos lining his left arm. A sleeve of extraordinary designs โ artwork etched into his skin. You traced your fingers over the lines of a flower at the height of his shoulder.
โYouโre beautiful,โ you murmured, lost in the sensation of Buckyโs kiss upon your chest, his weight pressed on your body, the art laid under your fingers.
โYou stole my line, doll,โ Bucky chuckled, leaning up for a kiss to your jawline before he sat back.
Your fingers trailed lower, brushing over the hardened scar tissue on his ribs โ the evidence of brutal betrayal. Bucky sucked in a harsh breath as you rubbed your fingertips against the marred flesh, drawing new life to painful memories, giving him back a rush of pleasure to his body where he only felt pain.
Bucky gestured to your shorts, waiting until you gave him a short nod before he hooked his fingers into the waist band and slid them along your thighs. Slowly. Deliberately.
When he sank his tongue between your legs, you nearly saw stars. Freckled onto his ceiling, moonlight peering through the curtains. You gripped his hair, tugging him where you needed him most and he greedily obliged, the low vibration of his groan against the apex of your thighs sending a shiver through your spine. He did not relent until you were trembling under him, until your back arched high against the couch, his arms wrapped tight around your thighs to hold you down. He licked and sucked and pressed his fingers deep into your core until you cried his name.
โAre you still with me, love?โ Bucky murmured, coaxing you gently from your high. You nodded hazily, still breathless, still lost in him. You watched as Bucky dug a condom from the drawer in the end table and ripped the foil with his teeth.
You propped yourself up on your elbows, waiting as he exhaled a tense breath and slid his sweats to his knees, his boxers along with them. Youโd seen the outline of his cock, felt it pressed against you, but this was something else entirely.
Throbbing and eager โ precum wet against his tip. Bucky tugged his lip between his teeth as he slowly rolled the condom on, clenching his jaw at the sensitivity. It had been a while for him, given how strained his breathing became. Probably since Dot.
Jealousy lit like fire against your skin, though it was shortย lived inย favor of an unbridled rage for theย hellย she had put him through.
He had loved her. He must have. Bucky was a good man, better than anyone gave him credit for, and she had used that. Manipulated him. Sought her own power and nearly traded his life for it. Heโd given her every part of himself and it hadnโt been enough.
You couldnโt imagine such a world where that could be possible. Bucky could grant you only a glimpse of the man you knew him to be now and it would still be more than you could ever hope to find anywhere else.
He was enough. He wouldย alwaysย be enough.
โDoll?โ Buckyย called,ย concern washed in his tone. โWhereโd you go just now?โ
You pressed out a smile, your hand sliding sweetly on the side of his face. You brushed your thumb over his cheekbone. โYouโre enough for me. You know that, donโt you? Youโre everything to me, too.โ
Bucky sighed, his eyes sinking closed, his head falling to his chest. No, he hadnโt known that. But he did now. He kissed the palm of your hand, kissed the plane of skin between your breasts. Relief in every touch, a stillness to the uncertainty he kept burrowed inside of him.
His tip pressed against you, drawing in your wetness. You gasped at the sensation, at the touch ofย him.ย He kissed your shoulder, waiting patiently for your tug against his shoulder, urging him on, and then, he sank into you.
Your hands gripped onto his back and he muffled his moan against your neck. Warm and hot on your skin, his tongue swept over you as he restrained himself for a moment longer, giving you time to adjust. He was bigger than you expected, the sting of him as equal and as wonderful as the pleasure of the stretch. To be as close to him as you could possibly be. To hold him like this.
When he began to pull out, he did so slowly, holding his breath as he slid back in. This time, with ease. He rolled his hips, finding his rhythm. All the while his lips traced along your neck, your jaw, your temples. The sounds he made, his moans as the coil began to tighten in your core, holding him tighter, squeezing him, were drawn from heaven itself.
โBucky,โ you cried, unable to hold back your tongue. But it only spurred him on โ his thrusts picking up in pace, his hips snapping against yours. His fingers circled between your bodies; pressure on the sweetest release.
โIโve got you,โ he panted, his breath warm to your skin. โIโve got you, love. Let go for me. Come for me, sweetness. Iโve got you.โ
When you came, you did so with his name on your breath. Reaching higher, higher, higher still, and the pleasure crashed amongst the fall. You tried to muffle yourself against his shoulder, but he pulled back, wanting to hear you cry out for him.
He came before you hit the end of your high, his hips falling out of rhythm as he chased his own pleasure, his low grunts filling the echoed space of the living room. At the end, he rolled his hips slowly into you, prolonging the release as long as he could โ his and yours. When he was spent, he lost his weight on top of you, his head falling against your chest, sweat beading his skin. He was still inside you as his fingers traced delicate patterns along your collarbone.
You would have stayed in that moment for an eternity if the fates would have allowed for it. This beautiful, blissful moment where Bucky was all you knew and the threat of Hydra was long forgotten.
There would be time to worry about your shop and the debtors coming to collect what you owed in the morning. For now, you could rest yourself to the sweet lull of Buckyโs head against your chest. The feeling of him between your legs. The weight of him in your heart.
HELP I HAD AN IDEA THAT I KNEW ONLY YOU COULD PULL OFF.
Ok so you know that tiktok trend where one person wakes up their s/o and tells them to hide bc their bf/gf is coming over? Like itโs a prank ofc but how do you think RZ Michael and 78 Michael would react to their s/o doing that to them??
i donโt know if i can but i will try my best^^
i feel like both would act relatively the same, but letโs just say you have more of a bond with 78 michael. if he seems ooc, itโs just because ur his little meow meow and youโve been with him forever.
i know i have a request queue and everything but ur my mutual and i secretly wanna talk to u more and mutuals come first
โฅโฅโฅโฅโฅโฅโฅโฅโฅโฅโฅโฅโฅโฅโฅ
RZ Michael Myers:
What?!
Michael doesnโt know itโs a prank, so heโs fuming to say the least.
The second he hears โboy/girlfriendโ he has a hand to your throat thatโs getting tighter by the second. Your explanation better be a good one or youโll be wishing you had never been born. Michael would never seriously hurt you, but in the heat of the moment he feels like he should.
His hand never leaves your throat as he goes to look out the window. That bastard is not coming and leaving this house alive. And Michaelโs beginning to convince himself that you arenโt either.
He hears your strained laugh and is immediately confused. You think him choking you is funny? You being aroused wouldnโt be surprising, but youโre seriously laughing..? Now he just knows somethings up. Youโre messing with him arenโt you?
He reluctantly releases you, wishing he had the heart to actually punish you for having another lover that isnโt him. Youโre still choking on your laughter, but he can make out the littlest of words.
โIt was a prank..!โ
*sigh* You know what, maybe you getting a different boyfriend would be a better idea after all. How dare you prank him in such a way.. You should know he canโt tell the difference!
1978 Michael Myers:
โMichael, I need you to hide! My boy/girlfriend is coming! I cant let them see you!โ
Not sure if you could tell (by how long you both have been together he is very convinced you can) but Michael has eyes on you at all times when he isnโt busy stalking someone else. He knows damn well you do not have a boy/girlfriend.
He decides to mess with you just to sabotage your little prank. You wanna mess with him? Heโll mess with you. By taking advantage of the fact that you are weaker than him-
He refuses to move. You want him to hide from this imaginary boy/girlfriend of yours, youโll have to make him. Needless to say that your efforts will be proven useless. This is why you are Michaelโs main source of entertainment. Because itโs fun to mess with you.
โMichaellll! Youโre ruining it!!โ
The prank was already ruined the second you decided to try it in the first place. Not his problem. If you wanna prank him, atleast try to make it realistic? Donโt worry, Michael wonโt let you suffer that much. He may humor you a bit.
His humor is odd. Meaning that he will disappear into thin air to hide from the alleged boy/girlfriend. You told him to hide from them! Not you! That bastard.
Michael Myers & GN!Reader (no use of pronouns or y/n)
word count: 2.1k
summary: someone had to cut hair at the sanitarium, right?
note: i've been obsessed with this thought all week so I had to write it. no content warnings - just some haircuts and michael-esque home invasion but without the murder part
This was the day of the month everyone dreaded for you, and you were never sure why. Sure, having a pair of scissors in a mental institution was a little nerve-wracking but the truly dangerous patients were sedated when you needed to cut their hair. There were patients who werenโt a danger at all and they loved having their hair cut, and there were the ones who just sat there while you did your work. You personally loved haircut day, mostly because it meant you got to see Michael.
It was the only time you got to see the hospitalโs quietest patient, since Dr. Loomis insisted that he be kept away from the general population at all times. The only time he got interaction outside of the doctors was when you were escorted in to trim his hair while two armed guards were on standby just in case Michael chose to strike. Heโd never attacked anybody before, but according to Loomis nobody knew when heโd snap.
โHi Michael,โ you greet softly, stepping into the room with only one guard this time. The patient doesnโt look at you, he never did, but you liked letting him know that you were there. Maybe to give him time to mentally prepare to be touched by another person, to not be left alone for however long you spent tending to his hair. โThey said you washed your hair when you showed this morning, so Iโm only going to use some dry shampoo once weโre done and we wonโt have to spray you down.โ
Thereโs no response, but you also didnโt expect one. Beck, your security today, lets out a scoff at your gentle tones when speaking to such an unsettling man, but you didnโt care. All the guards thought you were foolish for being so kind to any of the patients here, believing that you were just as crazy as them for treating them like people, but you became a nurse to help people. Even those that society had given up on โ especially them.
You always walked to stand in front of Michael, leaning quickly that he liked seeing your tools for the day before you started touching him with them. Dr. Loomis once asked how you knew he liked it, and was stunned when you told him that Michael was much less tense when you gave him the opportunity to see what was going to happen. There was some condescending comment about you being his new doctor, but you just shrugged it off because everyone knew Loomis was a bitter old man.
โYeah, today is just scissors, a comb, and the spray,โ you comment, slowly moving to stand behind Michaelโs chair before you start to comb through his hair gently. He had incredible hair genetics, no not comb it every day or even wash it on a decent schedule, but for it to be so soft and grow out so well while staying so healthy. โI wish my hair was like yours, Michael. Itโs very healthy.โ
You swear he lets out an acknowledging hum, but youโd never say that aloud to anybody. He does shift a bit, and you hear Beck adjust his grip on his gun in response but you feel thatโs unnecessary. If Michael was going to attack, he would have done so already. When you start trimming, you let him know where youโre starting so he isnโt startled by the sound, and communicate as you move around his head - and especially when you were close to his ears.
You move around to stand in front of him as you comb his hair back out, then trim his hairs at the front. For the first time, he looks into your eyes while you work and you smile at him. His face remains blank, almost lifeless if not for his blinking at the sound of the scissors. Thereโs a gentle tap to your foot, and you look down to see that heโs moved enough so that he was touching you. It was the smart move to make, since any motion of his hands would have him tranquillized immediately, and that tells you that Michael was more that just some invalid. He was clearly doing a lot of thinking while he sat so still.
But why was he showing even the briefest of interest in you? You only saw him once or twice every month, and never for long. It was certainly curious, but you werenโt sure if it was a good or bad thing that Michael was appearing to respond to you. Or maybe you were projecting your hopes onto the patient?
โQuick and painless as usual,โ you comment with a smile, tucking the comb and scissors away before picking up the broom to clean up the hair on the floor. โThank you for being the easiest appointment of the day, Michael.โ
Another hum, and he doesnโt turn to look at you, but this time you were certain that it was a response to you and not your imagination. Beck adjusts again, and you take that as your queue to get out of there before you open yourself up for a lecture. So you wish the patient farewell, collecting all of your things before making your way to the door that Beck is opening for you. You do spare a glance back at Michael, it was a foolish decision but it felt right in the moment, but heโs still facing the wall.
โWhat are you lookinโ back for?โ Beck asks, nudging you forward while looking back toward the room. โForget somethinโ?โ
โI was just making sure I hadnโt dropped anything.โ Your cover is accepted as the door shuts behind you, but you do see what you think is a turn of the patientโs head just as your vision is obscured. You had to be projecting, Michael Myers wasnโt interested in anything other than the drywall he stared at all day.
Two years later finds you in Haddonfield. Youโd left the mental institution after being offered a nursing position at the local hospital, one involving babies and not requiring you to cut hair since nobody else was interested in the task. Being away from Dr. Loomis was also a relief, since you were tired of hearing him refer to one of his patients as being โpure evilโ. You knew that Michael was from here, youโd even told him during his last hair cut that youโd be moving to his hometown, but you made sure not to mention that youโd come from the same sanitarium that Michael Myers was at after being warned about the cursed house across the street from your new home.
That was where Michael had brutally murdered his sister when he was only a child. It mustโve been a lovely home before being abandoned, and you couldnโt look out at it without thinking about about how it could be renovated. Maybe you could renovate it? The Strodes were trying to sell it anyway, they could probably get a much better price if it had been fixed up. Or you could buy it real cheap, renovate it to live in, and sell your current home once the old Myers home was habitable?
Were you that desperate for a connection with the man that youโd move into his family home? Why would you be? Youโd only ever talked to him about his hair and weird gossip around the sanitorium, never anything substantial and he had never spoken a word to you. Maybe the attraction was in the fact that he didnโt speak? Silence was sexy when it came to men, since they always liked to share their opinions.
It was Halloween morning and you were coming home from a night shift at the hospital, locking your car and smiling when Laurie Strode called a good morning to you from across the street. Why was she at the Meyers house with little Tommy Doyle in tow?
โGood morning, Laurie! What are you doing over there?โ
โJust dropping off this key before school,โ she explains, and you nod with a smile as they continue down the street before you head into your house. A station wagon parks on the street as you shut your door, but you pay it no mind and head up to your bathroom to take a shower.
You swear that you hear the a door open downstairs while you shower, but you chalk it up to the wind and continue to hum your favorite song while scrubbing the night away. Thankfully that was your last night shift, the day crew missed you and made a trade starting in November that youโd be back on the day shift for the foreseeable future.
โI canโt wait to get in bed,โ you comment as you shut off the water, half tempted to just flop onto the mattress while still soaked and deal with the repercussions later. Instead what you get is a figure in your doorway, wearing only a blue jumpsuit and holding a pair of scissors in hand. That face was familiar, though how was he out of the sanitarium.
โMichael?โ you ask softly, reaching for your bath towel and wrapping it around your body. His focus stays on your face rather than your exposed body, which makes you grateful that he still had minimal interest in you. โWhat are you doing here? How did you-โ
Youโre stopped short when he extends the scissors towards you, and you take them hesitantly before you watch him turn and walk out of the bathroom. All you can do is follow his back, your eyes on his broad shoulders and long hair as you follow him down the stairs and to your dining room. He didnโt escape from the sanitarium for a haircut, but you were kinda touched that he came to you at all. How he knew you were in Haddonfield was a different question that you were sure you wouldnโt get the answer to.
Youโre still in a towel, but you watch as he sits down and you take in the state of his hair. Youโre thankful that your bag was on the kitchen counter since you kept an emergency comb in there. You doubted that anybody tended to him after you left except to feed him and make sure he bathed, so you gently warn him that this wasnโt going to be easy and you might pull his hair a couple times. He only nods, and you sigh before starting at the ends that sat just above his shoulder blades and worked your way up.
โDo you want me to cut it how I always did before?โ you ask, leaning over his shoulder when he hums. His eye meets yours, and he gives a slow nod that has you smiling before standing up straight and setting to work. โI canโt believe they let your hair grow out like this. This couldnโt have been comfortable.โ
You continue to mumble as you comb his hair, complaining that those people didnโt care about taking care of patients outside of what the state would pay them for. Thatโs was why you left, and you told Michael that you were glad he got out of that situation. You should not have been condoning his escape, but right now you couldnโt be bothered with issues of ethics and morality.
โIโm just going to start snipping away, alright?โ you inform, giving a moment for him to register what youโd said before you start. He sits, still as stone, as you trim at his hair until itโs back where he likes for it to be before moving around to stand in front of him so you could shape the sides and front of his head.
โThere you are, Michael,โ you greet with a smile, meeting his curious gaze before you turn to set the scissors and comb down onto the table. His hand grips your wrist, firm at first before loosening to a more comfortable hold. You arenโt sure what he wants, but youโre sure that heโll be sure to take it since there wasnโt a guard stopping him from moving. All thatโs given is a gentle squeeze before youโre released, and you nod slowly as you consider what he could be trying to tell you. โYouโre welcome, Michael. But I am going to get some clothes on, if you donโt mind.โ
Heโs gone when you return downstairs, something that was only moderately concerning to you, but you figure heโd come back. You had no idea of his plan for being in Haddonfield, and you werenโt sure that you actually wanted to know. If Michael truly was pure evil, his intentions for this anniversary would not be for the faint of heart.
You wake to eyes. Scrambling into a sitting position, cold sweat runs down your back as you scramble to turn on your lamp and illuminate your tiny apartment bedroom.ย
ย ย ย Thereโs nothing; the overwhelming feeling of being watched remains. You cast quick glances around the room, not entirely examining the shadows festering in dark corners of the room in your exhaustion and hurry to get back to a slumber youโd achieved only an hour prior.ย
ย ย ย The blood all over your windowsill, however, does not fail to catch your eye; several bloody handprints smear the wood, and as you shove back the covers and get out of bed to investigate, you notice heavy splotches of blood decorating the carpet, leading away from the window, past you.
Trigger warnings: non con, murder, choking, knife play, stalking, mental abuse, physical abuse, loss of consciousness, slight necrophilia
Michael has no concept of boundaries or permission. He is very sadistic and has no remorse, mental and physical torture is basically his love language.
He loves to roughly grab you and slam you into the nearest wall or object, knocking the wind out of you or making you disoriented so you have no time to react to him tearing off your clothes and frantically locating your most intimate area.
Very dominant, thrives on knowing you canโt get away from him no matter how hard you try to resist his advances. If anything, your struggling makes him more aggressive.
Loves to choke you, especially when you struggle. Grabs your throat, choking you enough for your vision to go blurry and your body to loosen, gets off on seeing you being too out of it to resist the powerhouse that he is.
He loves seeing bodies become lifeless because of his doing, and with your body being his favourite, he loves to see you unconscious. He loves to see you dead too, but he wants to have his way with you first.
Loves forcing himself onto, and into you. Feeling you stretch around his dick with no warning, and seeing and hearing you squirm due to the brute force of him ramming himself into you with no remorse kickstarts a frenzy in him.
Loves your moans and screams. Whether theyโre due to your pleasure or your pain, they drive him wild.
Seeing and feeling his dick defile the deepest parts of you as you moan/scream his name makes him thrust into you harder, gripping your body firmly enough to leave bruises, and sometimes even cuts from his fingernails burying that deep into your skin.
Very into knife play, will make cuts on your body deep enough to make you wince and let out slight shrieks. Often stares at the cuts for a while, admiring his work on your perfect body.
When heโs fucking you he will dig his fingers into the cuts he made on you to make you scream and your body tense up, resulting in more pleasure for him as your muscles tighten around his dick.
Heโs really into edging, once he knows youโre coming close to your climax he will stop fucking you just to prove how much power he has over you.
Thrives off of tormenting you by dangling the tiniest shred of pleasure you get from him in front of you, you want to cum? Show him how much.
Loves to hear you beg for it, seeing you turn to look up at him with your pretty eyes and plead him to fuck you gives him an animalistic urge to ravage every part of you.
Has a voyeurism kink of course, watching you from afar changing into different clothes, and cleaning yourself up at the river that separates the killers and survivors after trials is his favourite hobby.
Knowing you donโt know, is what gets him going the most. He watches you for a while, lightly touching himself to prepare himself for you, but Michael gets horny very fast and canโt contain his urges for long.
His favourite way to greet you is by sneaking up behind you, grabbing you by your throat and dragging you to a nearby tree, slamming you against it enough to disorientate you, before aggressively thrusting himself into you.
The only thing you see and hear as you regain consciousness are the dark, soulless eyes of his mask and the heavy, frantic breathing behind the pale, emotionless face as his body eagerly slams into yours.
In trials he will kill all of your teammates and leave you for last just so your mental state deteriorates enough for you to become frantic when he starts to come after you.
He loves to chase you, seeing you run from him knowing no matter how fast or far you go, heโll catch you, and make it worth his while gets him practically salivating over you.
Loves to mentally torture you and make you feel on edge by not having a specific pattern when it comes to his trials with you, every trial is different so you never know what to expect from him.
Some trials he will let you live once heโs done fucking you, others heโll kill you without even touching you once, and sometimes he will kill you as he fucks you.
His favourite thing to do is piercing his knife through your heart as he rams himself into you, filling you with his cum as the life drains from you. Feeding both his sexual, and sadistic desires.
He loves knowing your life is fading while he is still buried deep inside you. Knowing heโs the last person you will feel and see as you die, it gives him so much pleasure.
His biggest kink is literally fucking you to death.
Big breeding kink, he will never wear a condom. He wants to fuck you raw, and fill you up as much as he can.
Often pushes his cum back inside of you with his fingers, the thought of you running from death in trials with his cum still buried deep within you makes him so horny.
This way, no matter who kills you, he still has his claim on you in the most intimate way, and he is with you even in death. This is Michaelโs definition of romance.
Thank you for your ask! I hope you like it! ๐ค
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