You were young. Far too young to be in the situation you were currently in, dazed and covered in a warm coat of crimson. You could barely make out the crunch of footsteps in the snow approaching you. Your eyes were wide open yet you couldn’t see. You couldn’t bring yourself to fight against the arms that had picked you up, the cold air nipping at your ears. You were still, limp in this stranger's arms. A part of you however, felt safe. No ill intention was felt behind this stranger's touch.
“Dad? Where’s the bread at?”
Silence.
“Dad! I know you can hear—“
The house was empty.
A million thoughts raced through your mind at that moment. Your father never left without letting you know first. The fear and anxiety pierced through your chest like a bullet, getting lodged midway. Your body seemed to move for you, flying through the house in search.
Nothing.
A loud slam echoed through the house as your fist collided with the wooden planks of the wall. Your eyes traced along the intricate design of the grain that was now broken into pieces. The cold crisp air entered your lungs, giving you a sense of calm. You dragged your feet against the rough stone of your home, grabbing your coat off of the hook next to the door. As your fingers slid around the golden, freezing handle, you froze. Your eyes stuck on the white note sitting at the bottom of the door. Dread filled your entire body as you kneeled down to pick it up.
You knew this day was coming. Your father had always warned you. He was very aware he was going to be sent to his death by his boss one day. So from the day he found you curled up in the snow upon your slaughtered family, he knew he had to protect you. You would’ve died alone that day if it wasn’t for him. You don’t remember much from that day but the feeling of peace that you felt in his arms. He had taught you everything he knew when it came to martial arts. As you got older, you learned how to wield a sword on your own. He was always incredibly proud, and would constantly challenge men to a fight with you, knowing you would win every time.
Your father always told you to never fall in love with a man unless he had the power to protect you.
“You’re going to have to learn how to do this by yourself one day.” Your father’s deep voice echoed through the bathroom. You stared at your face in the mirror, unable to recognize yourself. He ran his fingers through your once white hair, coating it in a ___ color.
You never understood why you had to dye your hair. He never told you.
“You don’t fit in with the commoners.”
Is what he would say when you asked. He had taught you how to use makeup as well, in order to hide your white eyelashes. He would never allow you to leave the house without it. He always looked horrified when you tried.
“Y/N! What are you doing?!”
His voice boomed through the kitchen as you stood in front of the door, small hand on the handle. Your eyes were big, stunned from his sudden burst. His expression immediately softened when he saw your watering eyes. His feet strode across the floor, kneeling in front of you as he pulled you close, his fingers running comfortably through your hair. “You have to listen to me, Y/N. It’s for your own safety.” He whispered.
You could remember how worried his blue eyes looked that day. You were quite the character at times, but you had never seen him that serious.
“How come I have to do this?!” You cried.
“Because you’re the woman of the house.” He would reply every time.
As a child you didn’t understand why you had to wash dishes, and shovel snow. As you got older you realized he was just teaching you how to live properly, and survive. However, you never realized how unusual it was to know the things you did until you made friends with a few of the women in the village. They found it hilarious that you had to chop wood, and hunt animals.
“That’s a man’s job!”
“You’re old enough to have a husband do all of that for you.”
Yet their husbands sat on their asses all day, getting fat and drunk at bars.
Your father showed you what a true man was really capable of. He didn’t want to raise you as some weak common woman who stayed home all day cleaning and cooking. He taught you the beauty of both worlds.
Understanding the beauty of both made it hard to fit in. You got along better with the burly men at the bars than you did with their wives.
Warm tears streamed down your cheeks as you stared down at the letter between your fingers.
Sakunosuke Oda has been pronounced dead as of January 10th.
Today.
The crinkling sound of paper filled your ears from how badly your hands trembled. It felt heavy as your tears soaked into it, the ink spreading out like a blooming flower. You so badly wanted to punch the wall again. Kick it. Something to relieve the anger you were feeling. You knew you wouldn’t even be able to see his body. You couldn’t even bury it yourself. The men he worked for were evil, insensitive demons.
It didn’t take long before your brain began to protect itself. You felt slow, almost euphoric in a way as you slumped along through the house, absentmindedly gathering your things. You weren’t even thinking, the fog in your mind too thick to see through.
You could hear the murmurs of people in the village as you passed them by, but the syllables didn’t even process in your head. You carried a small bag of your necessities, and your sword.
You never went back.
You left everything behind.
There was nothing left for you to stay for.
You needed a job. You weren’t just going to sit around waiting for a man to come along to wed. As your father said,
“Never marry a man unless he can protect you.”
It rang through your head like an echo. Never ending.
You ventured far and wide. No common woman would’ve been able to survive like this without the knowledge you held. The first month of being away, you worked as a dishwasher for a bar. You got promoted to bartender, but that only lasted a night before you left. All it was, was gross, sweaty men trying to grab a piece.
Most places wouldn’t even take you in or accept you as an outsider. You couldn’t blame them. No one had seen a woman dressed like a man, especially with a sword strapped to her back. You were an anomaly to them. Of course you were capable of living without a job, but it was boring. You wanted something to do. It kept your mind busy, and distracted.
It was now December. You had traveled so far you couldn’t recall where home was. You don’t even recognize your surroundings anymore. You were used to the cold frigid winds, but all that was here in this area was rain and humidity. It was quite bothersome, and disgusting to say the least. You could hardly sleep at night, the feeling of wet heat clinging to your skin.
That was the breaking point. You wanted out of this place. At most, maybe just a place to stay so you didn’t have to sleep in a makeshift tent in the woods.
You had no reaction to the bag being thrown over your head. Complete darkness engulfing your vision. You didn’t even bother struggling. What was the point? Your father taught you everything but at what cost..? You couldn’t fit in no matter where you went. You were stuck in a purgatory of your own mind.
You could’ve fallen asleep if it wasn’t for the loud rumbling of the cart you were in. The constant bumps and roughness of the road you assumed they rode along didn’t make it any easier. They had tied your hands behind your back, which made you wonder what they were so scared of. Had they seen you hunting from afar? Were they watching when you had taken down several men in the village nearby for a simple beer?
The answer was nothing you were anywhere near prepared for.
Light graced the insides of your eyelids as the bag was ripped from your head. With one blink, your eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the bright light around you. The smell of rain graced your senses. The light was so blinding, it made it hard to make out what was around you.
“What’s your name, girl?”
A woman? A rather authoritative sounding one at that. You would’ve dropped to your knees at her words if you weren’t already. You slowly looked up to where her voice came from. You squinted a bit, making out her pale skin, and brunette hair. Her eyes were dark like rich honey. You couldn’t help but stare at her beauty.
She stood so perfectly, and tall. She wore such luxurious clothes, you were scared that the mud on the ground would ruin them. “Must I repeat myself?” She sighed, her eyes still beaming down upon your restricted body.
“I- Uh… Y/N.” You managed to choke out, your tongue caught by her ethereal looks. You could hardly believe a woman this beautiful even existed.
“Y/N… My guards are rather impressed by your skills.” She began, lifting up a sword, tracing her finger along it. It was your sword. “Now what is a pretty little girl such as yourself doing with a weapon like this?” She asked softly, kneeling down, her face just inches from yours.
“My father taught me.” You replied. That was a lie. You taught yourself, but you highly doubted a woman of her caliber would believe that.
“Your father? He must’ve wished he had a son instead.” She chuckled, standing back up, tossing your sword to the ground. The loud clunking from the sharp metal hitting the ground made you more angry than her words. She had zero respect for such a beautifully crafted piece.
“Trespassing on our kingdom's grounds… Killing several of my people for a simple beer—“
“Your people are disgusting pieces of shit.” You spat.
Her eyes were big with amusement as she stared down at you with a frown before bursting into laughter, “well maybe a girl such as yourself shouldn’t be wandering into a bar full of disgusting pieces of shit.”
You could’ve escaped your restraints and killed her right there if it wasn’t for the guards pointing spears at your neck.
“Oh, did I hit a nerve?” She purred, a pleased smirk on her lips.
As much as you wanted to respond, you held back. You were already in enough trouble. The pretty little crown that sat upon her pretty little head just explained further how much trouble it was.
“Say, girl… Do you enjoy killing..?”
You gave no response, which just earned an annoyed sigh from the woman.
“Throw her in the dungeon. I want her in the ring by tomorrow morning. The people would be thrilled to watch a woman fight.”
Now it made sense. Your skills seemed to intrigue her, but you didn’t understand why she would care that you killed such useless scum. Capturing criminals for entertainment.
Hard stone collided with your hip, excruciating pain rippling through your body. Your face scrunched up in pain, refusing to show how badly it hurt. It would just satisfy the men that tossed you in here. Your head fell against the wet ground, staring off at the wall.
Maybe you should’ve killed yourself the day your father died. Maybe you would’ve been better off that way. You were just a nobody trying to make something out of life that wasn’t there.
You could feel your mascara sticking to your eyelids. Your fathers worried lectures about your makeup didn’t even come to your attention at that moment. You were disassociating. The wall in front of you moving as if it was alive. The static and shapes in your vision keeping you entertained as you fought sleep. The last thing you wanted was a man coming into your cell and taking advantage of you while you slept. You were very aware of how gross they could be.
The hours that had gone by seemed like mere seconds to you. Light peered through the bars of the cell, shining upon your face. Your eyes were glazed over, the light blurry in your vision. The loud clanging of metal slamming against metal brought you back to reality. Your head quickly whipped towards the cell door, no time for you to react as you were picked up, and dragged along the floor. You let out a soft sigh, already irritated. What was the point in fighting in this ring when you were going to win? What fun would that be for the precious Queen’s entertainment? You knew she wanted to see you get torn down.
Thousands of people were gathered in this place, chanting, and shouting. You watched from a distance as two men were currently battling. You already knew who would win. A small scrawny man against what looked like a sumo wrestler. Who plans these pairings?
The fight only lasted seconds. You didn’t understand why the people enjoyed something so boring.
As you were escorted out to the field, you examined the crowds, until your eyes landed on a familiar pretty face. The Queen, and what looked to be her husband sitting next to her. Beside them sat a much younger man, who seemed unimpressed by this event. His head rested upon the palm of his hand, staring at the man that had just won. When his eyes landed on you, his eyes brightened with interest, making him sit up instantly. The Queen saw this, smiling and chuckling to herself. From the looks of it, he was their son. The Prince.
He looked just like his mother. Gorgeous.
Your eyes were locked with his, your expression stoic compared to his overly excited one. He turned to his Father, talking to him, only receiving a short nod in return. You sighed, looking away from him and towards your enemy. The guards holding you began to tear away your restraints to let you free.
The once chanting crowd went dead as they stared at the scene before them. Most of them were confused, shocked even, while the rest sat in horror.
It didn’t even take you a second to have both of the guard’s heads in your hands. You turned towards little miss pretty, your eyes dark with evil intention as you let your arm fall back before throwing one of the heads up at her. She had awful reaction time. By the time she realized what was happening the head was already in her lap, blood soaking into her luxurious fabric. Her screams were comical, even making you laugh. You tossed the other head to the ground, sighing as you grabbed your sword from the headless guard laying on the ground.
Your fingers traced along the blade, admiring it calmly, feeling at ease again. A loud stomping was coming from your right, gaining your attention. Averting your eyes, your sword swung through the air, earning a gurgle from the man you had just pierced. Upset, you ripped the sword from his throat, watching him drop to the ground in front of you. “So pathetic.” You mumbled, with a single flick of your blade, the blood was cast against the dirt. You turned back towards the Queen, her screams now coming back into your ears. You groaned, “shut the hell up!” You yelled, your voice booming throughout the quiet air of the ring. The guards had now taken care of the situation, removing the head from her lap, guiding her out of the ring. All you could hear was her complaints of her now ruined dress as she was escorted away.
The only sound that filled the ring now was a single person’s clapping. The Prince. He was standing, staring directly at you as he clasped his hands together in applause. Your eyes widened in shock as you watched him begin to hop down from the place he was in. He was kind to the people he accidentally stomped on, apologizing to them as he made his way down. His Father seemed upset, but said nothing.
As he grew closer, he entered the ring, approaching you. Did he want to have his head taken too?
His black, blue, and gold attire fit so nicely along his body a part of you wondered what he looked like underneath. Seeing him up close made you want to start praying. His chocolate hair framed his face so perfectly, his seductive eyes making your knees almost buckle. You took a deep breath, trying to keep yourself composed. He was so tall. Your eyes landed on the bandages that wrapped around his neck, and wrists. You were curious, but decided not to ask.
“What’s your name, beautiful?”
Beautiful? What was beautiful about you? What did he see that you didn’t?
“Y/N.” You replied bluntly.
His eyes wandered your body, his eyes trailed back up to your face, landing on your eyes. His expression seemed to change as he did so. You were confused on why he had been staring for so long, opening your mouth to ask but he quickly cut you off.
“I’d like you to become my personal guard.”
Personal guard. Did you just hear that right?
“What?”
“My personal guard.”
“Never heard of a woman protecting a man.”
“So?”
You stared at him like he was crazy. It seemed unreal to you. You could hardly believe the proposition given to you. Did you even have a choice in this matter? Would it even hurt..? You would finally have a place to stay.
What do you even do in this situation? Do you just say okay and go from there?
You looked down at your mud covered shoes, pondering. You were already incredibly dirty. You dropped onto one knee, feeling yourself sink into the mud as you did so. You bowed your head, “I will protect you with my life.”
He stared down at you in shock, not expecting such politeness from a woman who just slaughtered three men with no remorse.
A man who offered you a place to stay, and a job, deserved all of your respect. You knew that. After everything you had done, his mother should’ve taken your head.
He began to scratch his head, humming a bit as he tried to think of what to say, “Please get up…” He mumbled awkwardly.
You looked up at him, doing as he said, confused on why he was acting the way he was.
“I can’t bear to see such a beautiful woman dirty herself for me…” He whispered, covering his face with his hand, sounding like he was going to cry.
Is he serious right now?
“I—“
“Oh!” He gasped, turning away from you, “I can’t take it—“
He’s actually serious.
He turned back towards you, removing his hand from his face. He placed it on your back, gently pushing you towards the exit. “We’re getting you a bath immediately.” He sighed. He looked up at his Father who had been watching them the whole time. “Father, we are leaving!”
And with that, he had found you a room inside the castle.
“These will be your quarters.” He introduced you to the small, yet elegant room. The walls were stone, the floors a beautiful dark wood. The bed was quite massive to what you were used to. Reminded you of your father’s bed, which comforted you.
“What’s your name?”
“Dazai.”
“No, your full name.”
“Osamu Dazai.”
You stared at him for a while, wondering why he was being so kind to you. He showed you the balcony, your closet, and the bathroom. You didn’t understand how the bathroom worked at all.
“We have an ability user that allows water throughout the entire kingdom. If you turn this—“ His hand wrapped around one of the knobs on the bathtub, turning it, “The water comes on. Now… This one is for hot water, and this one is cold. So don’t be burning yourself on accident.” He chuckled.
Such people existed?!
He smiled at your reaction, sitting on the edge of the bathtub, putting his hands in his lap as he looked at you. “Do you know what an ability is, Y/N?” His voice was somber.
“No.”
“There are people with supernatural abilities. Some, like the man who controls our water, has an ability. Others, such as my other guards, have fighting abilities.” He explained.
“What do they do?” You asked.
“Well, one can turn into a tiger.” He chuckled, watching your eyes go wide.
You felt like you were dreaming. These words seemed unreal to you.
“You’re lying to me. I’ve never met someone with an ability.” You glared at him, earning a smile in return.
“Oh, that’s because they’re quite rare. I’ve taken almost everyone who has an ability under my control.” He stated.
Did that mean all of his guards had an ability?
“Why did you ask me to be your personal guard then? I don’t have an ability.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, sweet Y/N.” He smiled, taking your hand into his. “You have a very powerful ability, and you don’t even know it.” He whispered, his smile now making you nervous. You refused to believe you had something so ridiculous.
“That guard you killed was immortal, Y/N.”
Those words echoed through your brain, trying to get yourself to wrap your head around such an impossible feat.
“So how did I kill him then?” You took your hand from his, crossing your arms in a means to test him.
“You stole his ability.”
Stole? You opened your mouth to argue, but you were rudely interrupted by a knife digging through your wrist. You gasped in pain, jerking your arm away from him. He stared at you with a calm expression. You were about to start yelling at him, the pain making you agitated.
But the pain wasn’t there. You slowly looked down at your wrist again. Nothing was there. It was like nothing had ever happened. You felt yourself begin to spiral, all of this information too much for you to handle. Dazai’s chuckle stopped you from going too far into the deep end.
“It’s overwhelming, I understand.” He sighed, caressing your cheek. You stared at him, your eyes wide in shock. You blinked, suddenly wondering what his ability was. “Wh-What’s yours?” You asked softly. “I nullify abilities.” He replied. “So you’re just… An Anti-Ability user.” That brought a smile to his face.
“Smart.” He whispered, his eyes staring at your lips.
He cleared his throat, quickly standing up. “Get cleaned up, dinner is in two hours.” He began to walk towards the door to leave, but stopped as he grabbed onto the handle.
“I found your stuff. I left it on your night stand.” He said before leaving.
Your stuff?
Your heart dropped. If he looked through it he would’ve seen the dye and makeup you had.
You ran into your new bedroom, quickly grabbing the bag, looking through it. Everything was still there. You would never know if he looked through it or not unless you asked him. You sighed softly, trying to calm down as you walked back into the bathroom. You stood in front of the mirror, eyes widening as you shoved your face into it. Your mascara had almost completely come off. Your once black lashes now white.
“No wonder he was staring at me like that earlier…” You whispered.
You looked down at the sink, eyes defocusing. Your father’s words were coming back to you.
“It’s for your own safety.”
You walked over to the bathtub, figuring out how to balance the hot water and cold after five minutes of tampering with it. As you sunk down into the water, you were completely wiped of all of the stress in your body. You had never had a bath with such warm water, it was delightful.
Finding something to wear was incredibly difficult. Whose clothes were these? You had never worn a dress, and tonight definitely wasn’t going to be the time. Your eyes landed on your dirtied clothes on the bathroom floor. There was no way you were putting those back on after getting clean. You groaned, slamming your head into the closet door. “This is bullshit…” You mumbled, ripping a dress from the closet, laying it down on your bed. You stared at it for a good while before beginning to put it on. It was a simple dress. Nothing like the Queen’s. You would be caught dead before wearing something as frilly as hers. The dress hugged your curves nicely, showing all of the right things. It was actually quite flattering on you, and you hated it.
There was a soft knock on the door. “It’s Dazai, can I come in?”
You froze. Was he seriously going to be the first person to see you in a dress? “U-Uhm… Y-Yeah.” You stuttered, not sure what to do. The door clicked and opened. He peeked in before bringing himself all the way through. He shut the door behind him, eyes wide as he stared at you.
“Wh-What?! I know— I look stupid.” You snapped, looking away from him, embarrassed.
“No, you look beautiful.”
You gave him a serious side eye, refusing to look at him completely.
“You don’t believe me?” He chuckled, walking towards you, grabbing your shoulders. “Wh-What are you—“ He pushed you in front of the mirror, staring into your eyes as he stood behind you. “Take a real good look at yourself, Y/N. Do you really think you look stupid? Or are you just not used to seeing yourself look so alluring?” His deep voice sent shivers down your spine. You were silent as you looked at yourself in the mirror, shuddering as his hands trailed down your sides. His lips were close to your ear, his eyes still locked on yours. “You’re drop-dead gorgeous, Y/N.”
Your hands intertwined in front of you, staring down at the length of your dress. You were embarrassed. You had never felt this way in front of a man before. You felt one of his hands slip away from your hip to grab a piece of your hair. He seemed to be very interested in it. You couldn’t see what he was looking at, since it was out of your view. It made you nervous. You sniffled a bit, stepping away from him and the mirror. “Thank you.” You mumbled, “I’d like to eat.”
Dazai was sad to have you leave his touch, but nodded. “Dinner’s ready. Come.” He offered his hand to you, bowing. Why was he acting like this? You were just his guard. You took it regardless, letting him guide you down the stairs, and into the large, entrancing dining room. Your eyes traveled the room, awestruck by the beauty of the paintings on the ceiling, and the art hung on the walls. Everyone was seated at the table already. You could feel an evil presence in the room, and she was staring right at you. The Queen, of course. She said not one word as Dazai seated you next to himself. Right across from you sat an incredibly short ginger man. He had a grumpy expression, staring off into the distance. Dazai leaned over to whisper into your ear, “That’s Chuuya. I like to piss him off. Watch this.” As you listened, you watched what Dazai was about to do.
Dazai had picked up an olive from a plate that sat in the middle of the table, popping it into his mouth. He balled up his fist, and put it up against his lips. In the blink of an eye, the olive was sent flying from his fist, across the table directly at Chuuya. Chuuya wasn’t even paying attention, but the feeling of something small, and wet hitting him in the forehead definitely brought him back to his senses. A disgusted look was on his face as he looked down at the ruined olive that laid on his plate. He slowly looked up at Dazai, who was trying to stifle a laugh, his face red.
“Dazai!” He yelled, standing up on his chair. You smiled a bit, giggling as you watched the scene unfold. Dazai burst into laughter, but quickly shut his mouth as he heard his mother yell, “Sit down!” His eyes widened as he looked over at Chuuya. Chuuya’s eye twitched as he took his seat, his eyes full of rage.
“Dazai, stop playing with your food.” His mother snapped at him. “Oh, I can never have fun.” Dazai mumbled, “She’s so annoying isn’t she?” Dazai whispered to you. You smiled, trying not to laugh as you nodded.
The food that was served looked, and tasted delicious. Dazai’s mother looked at you, and gasped. “Eat like a lady!” She hissed. You slowly looked over at her, a mouth full of food. You swallowed, continuing to stare. “Would you like to teach me, Mrs. Prissy?” You challenged. Dazai about choked on his food beside you, turning his face away from his mother as he covered his mouth.
She took a deep breath before sighing. “Hold your fork and knife like this… Stop stuffing your face, and please… Wipe your face off.”
You continued staring. You slowly lifted your fork to your lips, taking a bite of the steak you had. “If I wasn’t starving maybe I’d listen.” You mumbled, mouth full as you chewed. You could hear Dazai’s giggle from next to you. He was trying so hard to stay quiet. His mother’s face was priceless. You knew exactly how to press her buttons. If Dazai hadn’t asked you to be his guard, she would’ve had you sent away by now. With a scoff, she got up from her seat, escorting herself out of the dining room.
The entire table shook as you Dazai slammed his fist down, bursting out into hysteric laughter. “O-Oh my god!” He gasped for air. Even Chuuya had begun to laugh. Once Dazai caught his breath, he looked at you, his eyes wide with amusement as he smiled with those perfect teeth of his, “You’re amazing.”
“Why?”
“I’m not even allowed to talk to her like that!” Dazai exclaimed.
“Well she pisses me off. I know my manners. Pardon me for stuffing my face when I haven’t eaten in days.” You mumbled. “You might just put her in her place finally.” Chuuya sighed, picking at his food. “Looks like she needs it.” You replied.
After hours of eating and talking, Chuuya came back into the room with a bottle of wine. You had never had wine. It was a delicacy only to those of high power. “Do you drink?” Dazai asked you. “Beer.” You replied. Dazai chuckled, “common beer I assume… Here. Try this.” He slid you the glass he was drinking from. It was golden in color. You lifted it to your lips, taking a sip. The taste was powerful, making you wince a bit as it slid down your throat. It was much different than beer. “Whiskey.” Dazai said, “It stings doesn’t it?” You nodded, handing him the glass back. He took it from your hand, downing it all in one go. You stared at him like he was crazy, until a gloved hand handed you a glass of wine. “This will be gentler.” Chuuya smiled at you. “Oh, how lucky you are, Y/N… Chuuya’s sharing his wine.” Dazai nudged you. You blushed a bit, taking the glass from him. As the dark red liquid entered your mouth, you were surprised by the taste. It was sweet yet bitter.
Dazai was distracted by your hair again. He put his hand out, running his fingers through it as he adjusted it. You looked at him, confused. He gave you a soft smile as he pulled his hand away. Your expression softened, looking back to your drink.
As the night grew older, you found yourself a bit buzzed from all of the drinks Dazai wanted you to try. He was shocked that you weren’t drunk at this point. “You’re no lightweight.” He chuckled, his eyes looking over at Chuuya, who was passed out on the table, “unlike our little midget over here.” He mumbled, standing up and walking over to him. “I’m going to go get him into bed. Meet me in the throne room.” He ordered, picking Chuuya up. You stood from your seat, watching Dazai leave.
Where… Where was the throne room?!
You looked around for someone to ask. One of the maids that walked in caught your eye. “E-Excuse me, ma’am.” Her eyes caught yours, looking quite fearful of you. “Oh… Um… Where is the throne room?” You asked softly, hoping it would calm her nerves. “Out these doors and to the right you will find large black doors.” She replied, quickly gathering the dishes and rushing back into the kitchen.
You made your way down the hall, the torches along the walls illuminating your view. In front of the doors stood two armored guards. You stood in front of them awkwardly for a moment before they opened the doors for you, no words needing to be spoken. From the looks of it, the room was empty, until your eyes landed on a large figure sitting in one of the rooms adjacent to the thrones. It wasn’t Dazai, it was too big. You walked towards the room, your small steps creating light taps that echoed throughout the large room. The man lifted his head from the book he was reading, looking over to you. It was Dazai’s father. This is where he was instead of dinner…
“Hello.” You smiled. He lowered his face, his glasses falling down his nose as he looked at you. “Oh…” He had a gentle smile on his face as he closed his book, setting it on the table in front of him. He turned his entire body to face you. “You’re quite the impressive woman, you know.” He chuckled, setting his glasses on top of the book. “Thank you.” You replied shyly.
“My son seems to be head over heels for you. The minute he saw you in that ring he was already asking to talk to you…” He sighed, examining your body. “My son is getting too old. Every princess that I’ve brought in he refuses to marry. Simply because none of them want to commit suicide with him.” Suicide? The bandages that wrapped his body suddenly made sense.
“He’s never had a personal guard. He never needed one. He’s perfectly capable of protecting himself.” His gaze became more serious as he spoke, “He’s overstepping our boundaries as a royal family. I kindly request you don’t give into his flirtatious antics. I give you permission to toss him around a bit if he tries.”
You let out a soft giggle, “Yes, your majesty.” You bowed, enjoying the thought of it. With a grunt, he stood up, grabbing his glasses, “I should go before he comes prancing in here… I don’t want him knowing we spoke. I hope you’re able to settle in nicely.” He was a kind man, unlike his wife. You wondered if he willingly married her. Their personalities were so different. The guards opened the doors for him, and he was gone.
Your eyes began to wander around the room you were in. The walls were covered in shelves, full of books of all sizes. Your eyes landed on a book on the table parallel to the one his father sat at. It was a lot different than the other books. It looked like something you’d find in a witch’s hut. It was black in color, wrapped in black scaly leather. You ran your fingers across the cover, opening it. The pages were burnt around the edges. You stared down at the first page. You recognized the drawing on it. It was of a castle, surrounded by snow.
It seemed familiar, but you could not recall it at all in your mind. You assumed it was a memory from a dream you had. As you went to turn the page, a familiar bandaged hand shut the book. You jumped, looking up at the brunet that stood before you with startled eyes. “Don’t sneak up on me like that…” You whispered. No one had ever done that to you. “You shouldn’t be in here.” He muttered.
“Oh… Sorry.” You awkwardly backed away from the book. A loud sigh left Dazai as he pulled out a chair, sitting down. He looked up at you, “sit.” You did as you were told. He seemed more serious than usual. “I want to know more about you.” He requested. You gave him a blank stare, not expecting him to say such a thing.
“Um…” You hummed, becoming distracted by the assortment of colors the books held in the room. You were suddenly ripped away, his hand forcefully grabbing your chin, making you focus on him. “Tell me.” He ordered.
“About what?”
“Your life.”
“What about my life?”
Dazai groaned, his head falling back in the chair. He raised his head back up. “How did you learn to fight?”
“My father.”
“Okay… How did your father learn how to fight?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where did he work?”
“I don’t know… Some place with weird men.”
“Did they kill people?”
“They killed my father.”
Silence filled the room upon those words.
“I’m sorry for your loss.” Dazai spoke with sincerity. “Thank you.” You murmured. Dazai took a deep breath, trying to get past the dreadful feeling in the room, “Was it just you and him?” “Yes.” “He never brought a woman home?” He asked, rather shocked. “No… He said I was more important.” You replied. “What a gentleman.” Dazai chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “What was his name?”
“Sakunosuke Oda.”
Silence filled the room again.
“Come again?”
“Sakunosuke Oda? Is… Is there something wrong?”
His eyes bore into your skin. His eyes filled with thoughts, the gears in his head turning. He let out a grunt, looking up at the ceiling. You couldn’t help but sit there, confused. Did he know something you didn’t?
“He never mentioned having a daughter.”
This just made your confusion worse. Did he somehow know your father?
“Yet you look nothing like him.”
You stared at Dazai, his eyes meeting yours. “He took me in.” “So you were an orphan?” “Yes…” You whispered, “Why do you speak as if you knew him?”
“Because he was my friend.”
Your heart dropped, eyes wide. “Wh-What?”
“He died in my arms.”
The whites of your eyes were fully visible as you trembled. The emotions you felt the day you found out all came rushing back through your veins. Dazai’s hand on your knee provided some sense of relief as he spoke comforting words, “Do you want to see him?”
Dazai did not get the answers he was looking for. Instead, he found out his best friend’s daughter was the woman he was so entranced by. He stood silently behind you, casting a shadow over your crouched body as you cried in front of his grave. In this moment, Dazai wished he could plant a good punch on his friend. If he had known he had a daughter, he would’ve gone and found you. Knowing you were all alone when you found out he died crushed him. Even worse that you had to wander around for almost a year trying to find a place to stay.
One thing that Dazai couldn’t figure out is how you found out he died. You had told him on the walk out here that someone left a note. Who was the man that knew about her existence? He decided to leave it for another time. After all, the man he assumed it could’ve been was killed by his own hands. His eyes focused down on you again. He took a few steps towards the tree beside the grave, leaning against it. The moonlight now illuminating the stone, and your beauty. He couldn’t help but stare. You looked so ethereal when you cried.
One thing that just couldn’t leave his mind was the mystery of your hair. Earlier today he noticed your white eyelashes since your makeup had melted off. Later in the evening whilst trying to prove your beauty in your dress, he noticed a white lock of hair hidden behind the rest of your dyed hair.He could understand why you tried hiding it. After all, no one had such features in any region around. No one had even heard of such a thing.
He watched you as you traced your fingers along the etched letters on the grave stone. “It’s getting late.” He spoke up. You were silent as you removed your hand, reluctant to leave. A soft sigh leaving your lips as you stood. “Was my father a good man?” She asked.
“A very good man.”
The walk back was short. Dazai had buried him in the garden the servants tended to. It was a beautiful area. Far better than you could’ve ever given him. He would’ve been buried under snow if you had found him.
“Thank you.” You whispered.
“For what?”
“For giving him a proper burial.”
You could hear him take a deep inhale, “He deserved only the best.” That made you smile, “How did you meet him?” Dazai opened the door for you to go back inside. The cold, stagnant air hit your face as you walked in. “We met at a bar.” He replied. “A prince in a bar?” You giggled. “I tend to sneak out.” He shrugged, walking beside you through big eerie halls. You stopped in your tracks, making him turn to look at you. “We… We live so far from here. I don’t understand.” You whispered. “Far? He didn’t live far at all.” Dazai chuckled, “He would never let me inside but I’d walk home with him at times. I always wondered what he was hiding.”
Did you really live close to this kingdom and you never knew? “You probably don’t know about this place because it’s behind the mountain you lived on.” Behind the mountain. No wonder. Your father never let you go that way… Was he trying to keep you away from Dazai? Or the kingdom itself? “I see…” You whispered, “I’m sure some less fortunate folk made a cozy home out of it by now.”
Dazai was silent for a few seconds, seeming to ponder something. He shook his head, turning back around to walk down the hall. You quickly followed, enjoying the feeling of your dress flowing behind you. “Do I get proper clothes and armor soon?” You smiled. “Once you’re properly fitted.” He replied, “However I’d much prefer seeing you in these gorgeous dresses.” You gasped as he turned around, closing the distance between you and swiftly swinging you downwards into an embrace over his knee. One arm wrapped around you and hand placed delicately on your hip, the other under your leg, hoisting it to his hip. You blushed heavily and felt stiff in his arms as you let him hold you in such an intimate grasp. Your eyes were wide as your face flushed pink. “Well I guess you get to enjoy them until I get fitted…” You whispered, trying to avoid his piercing gaze.
Dazai could simply cancel your appointment, and you’d never know. However, he knew his parents would question why she hadn’t been fitted, and that ruined his plans. “It’s a damn shame you’re not a princess.” He mumbled, tucking your hair behind your ear, “Otherwise, I’d drop on one knee right now.” You blushed, going to move away from him, but he moved quicker. His hands dropped from your hips, and hair, and he continued down the hall quietly. “Goodnight, Y/N.” You stared at his backside, your heart heavy as you frowned, “Goodnight, my prince.”
He had left you in an area you recognized. You were able to find your way to your room with ease. The moonlight shone brightly through the flowing curtains. You sighed, quickly walking over and shutting the windows. Plopping down on the bed, you sunk into it. You haven’t felt such luxury… Ever. You knew the other guards did not have nice rooms like this. There were too many. You assumed you had special treatment simply for being Dazai’s personal guard. It didn’t take you long to fall asleep.
That was the first night you didn’t dream of anything. Not even a nightmare. You actually felt refreshed from sleep for once. You didn’t even know what time it was. You couldn’t see where the sun sat in the sky from where you laid. You stared at the ceiling, wondering if you should even get up. A part of you wanted Dazai to come banging on the door calling for you… But the other part knew you shouldn’t yearn for him. That was until there was a bang on the door. It had startled you, causing you to quickly sit up in bed. “Wh-What?!” You yelled, rubbing your eyes.
The door opened, and Dazai waltzed in without even saying it was him. “I was going to let you sleep in but I missed you too much.” Dazai chuckled, “Come on, we’re about to eat breakfast.”
“I-I have to get dressed…” You stuttered. “Well then hurry up, I’m already impatient as is.” He groaned, stepping out of your room so you could change. You shot out from bed, grabbing a dress from the closet and rushing to put it on. You were about to run out of your room until you remembered you had to put your makeup on. You grimaced, stomping your way into the bathroom to grumpily slap on some mascara before making your way back to the door. Dazai once again didn’t say a word, and didn’t even knock this time. He opened the door suddenly, smacking you right in the face.
“Ow! What the fuck—“
“Oh my god—“
You held onto your forehead, wincing. Dazai stood there, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. “I-I’m sorry— I heard you fumbling around in the bathroom. I thought it was safe to come in.”
“I get you’re a prince and all but can you at least knock…” You sighed, removing your hand from your head. Luckily he didn’t hit you hard enough to leave a mark. “Um… I’ll try.” He chuckled nervously.
Your mornings from that day on were all pretty much the same, just without the door in the face part. It took some adjusting to, but you enjoyed your new life. At this point, Dazai was your alarm clock. You had finally been fitted for your new clothes and armor, and the seamstresses got right to work. Getting to try everything on for the first time was very exciting. You felt like yourself. However, Dazai had requested that several dresses be made for you as well. Which you noticed in the pile of luxurious clothes given to you. You couldn’t help but smile.
On one summer morning, Dazai had woken you up rather excitedly, requesting you to a duel. It was a shocking request to wake up to, but you gladly accepted. You hadn’t fought in quite some time, so you decided it would be good to hone your skills.
However, you didn’t expect to lose.
You never lost.
No one ever beat you.
As you laid sprawled out in the dirt, your eyes stared up at Dazai in awe. He was out of breath, sweat dripping off of his forehead onto yours. One of his hands had both of your wrists grasped in it, his other holding your sword that he had stuck into the ground beside your head. His knees on either side of your hips. “You’re certainly a challenge.” He chuckled. His smile was so beautiful to you in that moment. You cursed him for being born into royal blood. He was so close, you wanted to kiss him so badly. Of course, he was thinking the same exact thing. There was incredible tension between the two of you.
He let go of your wrists, and got off of you. That was the day you fell in love with him. He was the man that could protect you, just as your father wanted… But he was a forbidden fruit. You had to constantly remind yourself of Dazai’s father’s words of not giving into his antics.
There weren’t many instances where you had to wear armor. Only the times that Dazai met with people from outside the castle, or when he left to travel somewhere. He was constantly flirting with you, and put his hands on you any chance he got. Luckily, he wasn’t too much of a pervert, and only touched the respectable places on your body. You had gotten comfortable with him over the months of spending time with him. You were confident enough to argue with him about his flirtatious remarks, and smack him away now when he tried to touch you.
It had now been a whole year. In all of that time, you rarely saw his parents. Dazai seemed to know how to avoid them in such a massive castle. It was around midnight, and the two of you sat in the library where you first talked about your father. Dazai was reading that damn book he could never put down. It was massive. You always wondered if he would ever be able to finish it. You sat in the corner on the ground amongst some pillows you had brought in. The two of you would spend countless nights here reading. You had no idea why he was so obsessed with that book. You were never much of a reader, but after spending so much time here you began to pick up a few.
As you read through your small novel, you felt dark, sinister eyes burning through your skin. An ice cold chill went down your spine. Something you had never felt before, even while killing people. You swallowed hard as you looked up, scanning the room, your eyes landing on Dazai who was hunched over his book, his bangs falling over his face. As your eyes focused in more, a chill went up your spine as you saw the whites of his eyes, his irises directed right at you. That was the look of a predator who had just found his prey.
“Dazai..? Are you okay?” You asked cautiously, concerned about the petrifying look he was giving you. “I’m fine.” He replied, looking back down at the book. That scared you even more. The dark aura that surrounded his body seemed to dissipate the minute he looked away from you. You stared at him for a bit before hesitantly looking back down at your book, your body trembling nervously. You felt like you had just seen a demon in the corner of your room at night.
As you read through your book, you realized you weren’t actually paying attention to any of the words. Dazai’s expression really bothered you. You closed it, setting it down beside you. “Hey, Dazai… I think I’m going to head to bed.” You broke the unnerving silence in the air. “Goodnight.” He replied bluntly. That was unlike him. He usually added a flirty remark after. You sniffed, trying to make some sort of noise so it wasn’t so awkward. “Goodnight…” You murmured, slowly walking out of the library. His eyes never left that book. He was completely enamored.
You did not sleep that night. You stayed up until the sun came up. The fear he had instilled into you with that one stare was astronomical. It was around the time he would come banging on your door.
But it never came.
At this point, you were terrified to even leave your room. It wasn’t the way he looked at you. It was why he looked at you. It was a mystery. You had never seen such a horrifying expression on him. As you brought your feet to the ground, you found yourself moving extremely slow. Your brain was subconsciously trying to make you take longer so you didn’t leave your room. A part of you was nervous he was lurking about, maybe standing right outside your door, waiting to hear you make a sound. You stared down at your feet. His real intentions were unknown to you.
I can just stay in today. A day off sounds nice…
He wouldn’t care anyways right? Otherwise he would’ve come to wake me up by now…
You shook your head in annoyance, clasping your hands around your head, your fingers digging into your hair. You took a deep breath, and exhaled. “I’ll feel better if I go talk to him…” You mumbled to yourself, trying to convince yourself to get up and get ready. It was the best thing to do to ease your anxiety. Swiftly, you stood up, tossing on an outfit.
As you flew down the staircase, your heart began to pound from anxiety..
The closer you got to the throne room, the worse it got.
As you stood in front of the doors, it felt like it would hop out of your chest. Everything in you did not want to open those doors.
But the doors opened for you. Chuuya stood before you, staring at you with a quizzical expression. “Why are you just standing there, weirdo…” He mumbled, walking past you. You didn’t respond, your eyes following along his legs as he left, not wanting to look at the man who was staring directly at you from across the room.
You took another deep breath, walking inside, the doors slamming behind you. Dazai felt so far, yet so close to you. “Come here.” He ordered. That unnerving feeling you felt last night came back as he spoke. You shut your eyes, exhaling as you began to walk towards him. You kept your eyes on the floor, too scared to face him. You stood directly in front of him now, unsure of what to do. Dazai sat there, legs crossed, his head resting against his palm.
“Look at me.”
You refused.
“Look at me, Y/N.”
Hesitantly, you did.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, his gaze hostile.
Tell him what? Now you were even more confused than you already were about this whole situation.
“Speak, goddamnit!”
His voice made you flinch, eyes widening. “I-I don’t know what you’re asking—“
“Bullshit! You’ve been hiding this whole fucking time, haven’t you? I know you want me, yet you sit there and push me away all day every day, despite knowing what you really are.” He snapped.
At this point you felt as though you could cry from confusion, and the fact that no one had yelled at you before. The only time someone had raised their voice at you was your father when you tried leaving the house without your mascara. “I’m sorry, Dazai, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You whispered, your voice shaking.
That was when Dazai realized he screwed up. You really didn’t know. His gaze softened, and he laid his head back against his throne, staring at you.
“You’re a princess, Y/N.”
The words didn’t process at first. You just stood there cluelessly.
“Are you listening?”
“Yeah.”
“No you aren’t.” Dazai sighed, sitting up properly. He placed his elbows on his knees, now resting his chin upon his hands as he looked at you. “Look at me and listen.” He requested. You did as you were told, trying your best to pay attention.
“That book. Do you recognize the first page? That day I found you looking at it. You were staring at it for an awfully long time.”
Thinking back to it, you remembered the moment he spoke of. You nodded a bit, “I think I just recognized it from a dream, that’s all.” Which just earned a light chuckle from Dazai, “Sweetheart, your brain doesn’t just make up things in dreams. You’ve seen it with your own eyes before. Do you remember?” You stared at him, your mind refusing to create the image. Dazai’s eyes looked down at the ground, pinching his temples, “You really don’t remember any of it… How traumatized are you?” He mumbled, “You don’t remember seeing your family get slaughtered?”
Slaughtered?
That day in the snow. That warm feeling all over your body. You knew what it was now. It was all coming back to you. “I was covered in their blood.” You whispered. Dazai didn’t seem to react to your words much. It seemed like he already knew what happened that day. “My father found me hiding, and took me away.”
“He never told you anything about what you really are?” Dazai asked.
“What am I really?”
“A princess.”
You heard him this time. You wanted to argue and say you weren’t, but your unique features you were taught to hide now made sense. You were silent.
“Do you know why your family was slaughtered?”
“No.”
“My father had them killed because of you.”
Your entire body froze at his words. “Wh-What?” You choked out. “You truly have no idea how much fear my father was in the day he found out there was someone in your family that possessed an ability to steal others abilities. At the time he was unaware of my ability, but shortly after he had executed the order, it was discovered.”
You didn’t know your family, so why were you so angry? But maybe that was it. You wanted to know them, but they were killed. You had no memories of any of them because you were so young when it had happened. Your hair had fallen in front of your face, hiding the dark expression upon it. “If you want to kill him, that’s fine.” Dazai spoke, “My parents never really paid me much attention anyway. I wouldn’t mind if they were gone.” He shrugged. There was zero emotion in his words. He truly didn’t care.
That didn’t last long as shock zapped through his body, feeling yours crawl on top of him, your arms wrapping around his neck. Dazai sat there awkwardly, not knowing what to do. This was what he always wanted and now that it was happening he was stuck. The warm feeling of your lips upon his sent butterflies through his stomach, triggering something within him. His hands found their way to your waist, trailing down your hips, squeezing your rear as the two of you made out. All of that built up tension had finally been released. His hands exploring your body. It felt heavenly, making you want more.
The two of you would’ve made love right then and there if it wasn’t for the blood-curdling scream of his mother standing at the doors. Dazai pulled away from you, cursing under his breath. “What, mother?” He sighed. You looked over at her. She had her hand clasped over her mouth, looking as though she had seen a ghost. “What are you doing?” She sneered, her eyes wide.
“Is it so wrong of me to kiss a beautiful woman?” He asked. “She doesn’t have royal blood, Dazai!” She hissed. God, even if you didn’t know the things you did, you wanted to kill her right where she stood.
Dazai was silent, seeming to ponder on whether or not to tell his mother the truth. He hummed softly, staring at the ceiling. You laid your head on his shoulder, not bothering to give his mother the time of day. “Get off of him this instant.” His mother’s words spat venom, but Dazai had the antidote. He was just prolonging this longer than he should, finding humor in it. His mother had always pissed him off.
“You know mother? You’re such a waste of beauty, really. It’s a shame father only looks on the outside.” He sighed, running his fingers through your hair. The look of fury upon her face made you smirk at his words, stifling laughter. Her lips were white from how hard she was clenching them together. “How dare you speak to me that way.” Her voice was rather quiet despite the look of rage on her face. You felt Dazai’s lips press against your neck, trailing down to your collarbone as his hands squeezed your body.
“You can’t, Dazai! You must marry a princess! I can't bear to see you fall in love with a disgusting peasant.” She screamed, almost desperate for him to throw you off of him. You didn’t have to look into Dazai’s eyes to know he was infuriated by her words. His mother was sobbing. Was she seriously this upset over him falling in love with a “peasant?”
“Oh, but mother… She is a princess.” Dazai whispered against your skin, his lips brushing against your shoulder. “What? In your eyes?!” She scoffed. Dazai was getting annoyed at this point. It wasn’t humorous to him anymore. The doors burst open, “What’s all this ruckus I’m hearing?!” Dazai’s father entered the room, stopping in his tracks once his eyes landed on the sight before him. While he looked upset, he wasn’t surprised, and definitely wasn’t going to throw a fit like his wife.
“Oh… Perfect timing, father!” Dazai smiled, sitting up. Dazai’s hand trailed up your back, his fingers running through your hair. He pulled out the one white lock of hair that was hidden underneath the rest, presenting it to his parents. “Do you recognize this, father?” Dazai asked.
At first his father stood there confused, wondering why such a young girl was growing white hair already, until the realization struck him. His eyes grew wide in shock and fear. “I killed them all!” He yelled. “No… Not quite.” Dazai sighed, tucking the hair back behind your neck, “See… I’ve been watching little Y/N here for quite some time now. It seems you killed everyone but the one you truly feared.”
His father had been stoned.
“Y/N isn’t very happy to hear the news… Poor girl didn’t remember a thing until I told her.” Dazai chuckled, tucking your hair behind your ear, kissing your earlobe. “But don’t worry! I’m here right? Your perfect little anti-weapon.” Dazai purred, narrowing his eyes as he looked at his father with a mischievous smile.
At this point, his parents stood there in silence, not knowing what to say or do. They both felt incredibly guilty. Dazai sighed, “This is bor—“ Dazai cut himself off as you stood up from his lap, retrieving his sword from its sheath, taking short steps as you approached his parents. His father had already accepted what was going to happen, however his mother quickly realized the situation, and began to run towards the doors. The blade pierced through the air, a loud crack could be heard in the wood of the doors as the blade went through it.
Dazai was surprised you didn’t kill her. He knew you didn’t miss, you were too skilled for something like that to happen. He watched the scene unfold with interest, wondering what your plan was. His mother screamed in horror, turning to face you, “You could’ve killed me!”
“That was the plan.” You sighed. “But I think I have a better one.” You walked over to the door, ripping the blade from the wood. “I want the two of you to abandon this kingdom. Leave.” You began, “Go live a commoner's life. I think that’s a far worse fate than death for people like you.” You glared at her. She opened her mouth to start arguing, but Dazai’s father slapped his hand over her mouth, “Shut up, will you…” He mumbled. Dazai smiled with amusement, his fingers tracing his lips.
“Leave, now.” You ordered. His mother was screaming into his hand at this point in retaliation, but you couldn’t hear a word, only muffled incoherent babbling from someone as stupid as her. His father knew the best outcome for them would be leaving without saying anything.
The second the doors closed, a wave of relief washed over you. You could finally breathe. Dazai sat on his throne, smiling at you with a pleased expression. You turned to look at him, smiling back. You pranced towards him, dropping his sword as you hopped into his lap, giggling.
“Does this make you the King now..?” You whispered excitedly. “I suppose…” Dazai responded, his eyes trailing down your body, his hands running up your thighs. “I should’ve just taken you the day I met you.” He let out a soft sigh, his fingers now running through your hair again. “Why didn’t you?” Dazai was quiet, his finger twirling your hair around his finger as he thought, “Something in me knew I needed to figure out your mystery first. It would’ve bothered me if I didn’t.”
“That’s reasonable…” You smiled, cupping his cheeks to make him look up at you, “The day you beat me in battle was the day I fell in love with you.” His eyes widened. “My father always told me I should never marry a man unless he could protect me.” Dazai stared at you with sorrowful eyes. “I hope I’m the man Oda was thinking of when saying that.” He sighed, leaning his head back against the throne. “I’ve always wondered why he didn’t let me in his house. To me it sounds like he was hiding you from me… Just… What a cruel man.” Dazai whined, “Hiding such a beautiful woman from the world is criminal.”
“I’m sure he had his reasons.” You chuckled, “I just wish I could see him again.”
Dazai stared at you for a moment. He hummed in response, his finger tapping against his chin. “Come with me.” You couldn’t even react. He had picked you up in his arms like the princess you were, his long legs striding through the halls. Your dress cascaded down his arm, flowing behind him elegantly. Upon entering a new room, your eyes immediately locked on the painting on the wall. Your father amongst two other men… Dazai and… some nerdy guy. You didn’t speak a word as you admired the painting in his arms. Dazai watched your expression with a small smile before setting you down on the couch that sat in front of it.
It brought tears to your eyes. Your father looked so happy. Dazai’s loud footsteps were heard from behind you as he fumbled through something. You felt the couch sink down beside you. “Never understood why my father kept this, but I’m glad he did now.” Dazai sighed, holding out a painting in front of you. You stared at the painting, eyes studying every stroke. It was a large family with the unique features you had. Your eyebrows furrowed a bit as you landed on one of the younger children in the photo. It was you. You looked so much different with albino features, but you could identify your face from anywhere. You felt something heavy placed on your head. You looked at Dazai, confused as your hands felt the metal atop your head. Upon examination, he had placed his own crown on you, a dorky smile on his face.
His fingers held your chin, “If it wasn’t for this hair of yours, you’d be a white dove in the midst of crows.” He whispered, staring down into your eyes. Your own were locked on his, cheeks pink from his words, “I-I can wash it—” You were cut off by your own moan from the contact of his lips. Your eyes closed upon instinct as his lips pressed against yours. You felt him pushing you back onto the couch, his body pressed against yours as your back fell into the soft fabric. His hands traveled your body, his fingers grasping your thighs, lifting them over his hips. You felt your entire body get hot, almost like heat waves pulsating through your body. His hips pushed into yours, his lips moving against you rhythmically as they smacked together.
You had to push his face away from yours just to get a breath. You gasped softly, your eyes locked onto his. His lips were wet with saliva, his eyes half lidded and seductive as they bore into yours. You flinched when you heard a loud clinking on the floor. You looked over, seeing that his crown had fallen off of your head. Dazai didn’t seem to care as he just continued to stare at you. Your attention was brought back to him as he let out a loud sigh. A small yelp let your body as he scooped you up again. You wrapped your arms around his neck, nervous from how fast he was walking through the halls now.
“Where are we going?!”
“My room.”
“Your room?!”
“Didn’t I just say that?”
You had never even seen his room, so it made you anxious. It all happened so quick you could hardly react to the door being kicked open, and the crisp air running along your skin as you were tossed onto his silky bed. Dazai let out a low groan from deep within his chest, “Do you even have any idea how gorgeous you look? Laying so pretty on my bed.” He sighed, moving in between your legs as his fingers fought with the buttons of his uniform.
The sun was beginning to set, and Dazai’s room had a perfect view. It peered in through his balcony, casting an illuminous glow upon your skin. Your hair sparkled like jewels, the sun striking your eyes perfectly to showcase their true colors. Dazai was trying his hardest to take it slow, but goddamn was it difficult. You looked like an angel descended from heaven, sprawled out before him. Would you just become another sin on his list?
Dazai rolled his shoulders as he maneuvered his top off, leaving him in a creamy white button up. You grew tired of staring at this point. You wanted to feel him. His eyes followed yours as you sat up, kissing his lips gently, your fingers sliding his buttons out of their holes. Your eyes trailed down his body as you popped the last button, your hands moved underneath the piece of fabric, sliding up his soft, supple skin. Soft cotton blocked your hands from moving any further. In that moment you wanted to rip off his stupid bandages for interrupting your hand’s pleasure.
Dazai chuckled, seeing your frustrated expression. His fingers glided over your hands, pushing them off of his body. His fingers hooked around the straps of your dress, his eyes locking onto yours as he asked for permission, “May I?” You never thought you would get this far with any man, let alone him. It was still hard to believe you were truly a princess, and now here you were sat upon a prince’s silky sheets. You smiled up at him, giving him a small nod, your eyes big and bright, wanting more.
With that, he slid the straps off your shoulders, letting the top of your dress pool around your hips. You could hear him take a deep breath, his eyes entranced by your breasts as if he’s seeing a woman’s body for the first time. You knew it probably shocked him to see that you had nothing underneath. He definitely wasn’t prepared. The cold air hitting your breasts instantly made your nipples perk up, goosebumps covering your soft skin.
Dazai blinked a few times, trying to get himself to move. He finally let out the breath he was holding, pushing you down onto the bed, the two of you sinking into it as his lips captured yours. It was a sloppy kiss, his lips sliding down to your jawline, peppering you with kisses down to your neck. Your fingers found their way into his fluffy hair, gently brushing through it as you let your head fall back in delight. His saliva stuck to your skin like a cold piece of ice, the air clinging to it as it glistened against your skin in the sunlight.
His wet mouth trailed down your collarbones to your chest, his lips sucking on your breast, his hands cupping around them as he squeezed gently. A small groan rumbled through his throat as his tongue slid down to your nipple, swirling around it before slowly wrapping his lips around it. It was a feeling you had never experienced. A breathy sigh left your lips, looking down at him with drunken eyes, your fingers tugging on his hair ever so gently.
Dazai’s eyes flickered up to yours, a smirk on his lips as he continued his movements. Dazai pulled away with a loud pop, his grin widening as he moved closer to your face. He leaned into your ear, his fingers pinching your nipples, twirling them around. “Speak up…” He whispered, “You’re far too quiet for my liking…” Your cheeks flushed with color at his words, a whimper emitting from your throat as he teased you. “Hm? Come on… I’m sure you can do better than that.” His voice was like pure honey sliding off of his tongue. His lips kissed behind your ear, one of his hands moving down your torso, finding its way underneath your pooled dress.
He lifted your dress, looking down with a smile, “Oh? So you’re wearing at least something underneath…” Your breath hitched in your throat, watching him as he quickly slid down your body. His hands were rough against your skin, calloused from his experience as a fighter. He scattered kisses from in between your breasts, down to your lower abdomen, stopping just before he reached your underwear. “I didn’t take you as a lace girl.” He chuckled, his slim fingers slipping underneath the fabric as he looked up at you with a teasing smile.
“Aren’t you the one who reviewed what clothes were given to me?” You replied, raising an eyebrow teasingly. Dazai’s smile fell like a little boy that just got caught red handed, “No…” He mumbled, blatantly lying as he slipped the rest of your dress off down your legs. You could hear his knees thump against the floor as he kneeled before you, his eyes examining every part of your body like he never wanted to forget it. His fingers dragged along your skin, up your calves to your delicious thighs. As Dazai squeezed them, he wished an artist could carve the way his fingers pressed into your skin so he could have it forever.
Your body melted like putty into his hands. You had wanted this for so long, and you knew he did too. He was about to dedicate himself to you, wanting nothing but to provide the best treatment for the beautiful princess he had waited so long to find. Your eyes fluttered shut as you absorbed the feeling of his hands massaging, and caressing your thighs. You felt your entire body get pulled to the edge of the bed rather roughly, causing your eyes to shoot open in surprise. “Dazai!” You yelped. You didn’t mind getting manhandled, but you just weren’t prepared.
Poor thing looked up at you like he had done something wrong. His hands continued to caress your legs comfortingly, “Did I scare you?” You laid your head back, sighing softly, “Just surprised me that’s all.”
“Is this your first time?”
You were silent, almost embarrassed to answer even though he already knew. “It’s okay to admit it. Everyone has their first.” Dazai chuckled, kissing your thigh, “Just means I have to be more gentle and slow.” A part of you wanted him to just toss you around like a rag doll, but you decided that could wait for other times. This was far too romantic of a moment for that.
Dazai had experience from his past, but he was also incredibly smart. His parents only had the best educators to teach him. Dazai had become quite the womanizer before he met you, and took interest in anatomy, wanting to see what really pushed a woman’s buttons. Nothing could’ve prepared you for the hours ahead you were going to experience with this suicidal maniac. The women you “befriended” back in your village at home always complained of their husband’s skills. You were led to believe that it was something you had to do as a woman for a man. That it was all just to please your husband and keep him happy.
Yet you laid on the soft, silky sheets of this man’s bed, receiving the most toe-curling pleasure you had ever experienced from his simple tongue. Your thighs were squeezed tight around his head, unable to handle him from how sensitive you were. Dazai had to pry your legs apart just to continue. Your lewd whines filled his bedroom, the smell of your sex lingering in the air.
He had a rhythm to his movements, his tongue swirling around your swollen clit at a perfect pace, gently sucking on it every so often, making your body jerk. His fingers traced the opening of your wet pussy, sliding a single digit in with ease. The new feeling was odd, but you didn’t dislike it. Once his finger went as deep as he could, he started to curl it inside of you, creating a new rhythm for your body to enjoy. A new noise graced his hearing, piquing his interest as he looked up at you. Your face looked angelic as you moaned for him, your hand finding its way back into his hair. He let out a groan as you tugged on it, closing his eyes, allowing himself to get lost in his work.
He slowly pushed in another digit, shocked by how easy your arousal made it for him to push his fingers in. Your walls squeezed around his fingers, your face scrunching up a bit as he pushed in. It was a weird feeling, almost like you were being stretched out. “Relax.” His voice a gentle whisper, “You’re too tense.” The feeling of his breath against your wet clit made you insane. You relaxed your hips, taking a deep breath. Dazai was taking his sweet time, the tightness around his fingers letting him know he had to. His tongue met your aching cunt once again, making your hips buck into him.
Dazai chuckled lowly, his free hand grabbing the area your hip and thigh met, holding you down. The way your thighs trembled around his head warned him of your upcoming orgasm. He picked up his pace, earning a cracked moan from you as your thighs squeezed against him, toes curling in anticipation. Your climax burst through you, shattering your body like glass. Stuttered whines left your lips as your back arched off of the bed, your head pushing back into the sheets as you came down from your first orgasm. “So soon..?” Dazai teased, his thumb rubbing slow circles into your clit, allowing you to ride it out comfortably.
You took soft gasps of air, your face scrunched up with ecstasy. Once your body calmed down, he removed his hand from you, lifting it to his mouth, cleaning his fingers of your bodily fluids. Your eyes fluttered open, your face flushed, eyes glossy as you looked up at him like he was some god. In your mind, he was in this moment. He held his hand in front of him as he finished, licking the excess off of his lips. “You look so pretty like this.” He whispered, crawling over you, staring down into your fucked out eyes.
“I’d look even prettier with you inside of me.”
Dazai felt a switch turn on inside of him, triggering some animalistic urge to just take you right there. He closed his eyes, smiling as he took a deep breath, “I wish it was that simple, darling.” You frowned, slightly upset. Despite your extreme arousal for him, you understood, trying your best to be patient. He leaned down into your ear, his fingertips trailing down your stomach, entering your silky folds. “I want you to take a deep breath for me.” He whispered, his fingers completely still as they sat atop your pussy. Obediently, you listened, taking a deep inhale. As you did so, he slipped three of his fingers inside of you. Your eyes squeezed shut, groaning in pain.
“Deep breaths, baby girl. Keep breathing.” He gave you a comforting smile, kissing your forehead gently. “You’re doing so well…” He felt your walls throbbing around his fingers. He felt awful having to see you in pain, but he knew he would make up for it. As you took steady breaths, he peppered your face in kisses, whispering sweet nothings in between. You could hardly believe this was the same man that would shoot olives out of his fist to piss off his best friend. The same man that would whine and cry when you smacked him away from touching you.
The same man that took you in when you had nowhere to go.
Dazai could feel you relax more and more, deciding to add another finger. A loud hiss escaped you, “Asshole!” Dazai chuckled, kissing your lips, “This is all a part of the process, sweetheart.”
“Fuck the pro—“ His finger pressed against your lips, “You stopped breathing.”
You groaned.
Dazai’s thumb gently caressed your sensitive clit, sucking dark hickies into the thin skin of your neck. He pulled away for a moment, his lips still brushing against your skin, tickling you almost, “How are you feeling?”
“Better…” Your voice cracked. Dazai pressed his lips to your jaw. The sudden emptiness inside of you made you want to start crying, missing the feeling already. He brought his soaked fingers to your lips, “Taste.” His voice was seductive, his eyes full of anticipation. You parted your lips, allowing him to push his fingers into your mouth. It was almost tasteless with a splash of saltiness. He pulled his fingers out of your mouth, replacing it with his lips, slipping his tongue inside.
A muffled moan left you as you allowed him to explore your mouth. You could taste yourself on his tongue, butterflies fluttering throughout your stomach. His hips pressed into you, his hard, clothed erection pushing against your wet pussy. The feeling aroused you further, your hips subconsciously bucking into him, yearning for his dick. He smiled against your lips, “So impatient…”
“Just fuck me!”
Dazai’s eyes were wide with surprise, a sadistic glint in them as his grin widened. “Fuck you? I’m trying to make love to you, sweetheart.” He removed his hips from yours, cold air hitting your core, instantly making you shut your legs. His hands grabbed your knees, forcing them back open. “You’re so needy.” He sighed, positioning himself in between your legs so you couldn’t close them. You glared at him, looking to argue about being “needy,” but decided keeping your mouth shut was probably for the best. The sound of metal made your eyes avert to his belt that he was fumbling around with.
As you watched him slide it out of the loops of his pants, you grew more impatient. It was like time had slowed. He was taking all the time in the world to release himself from the restraints of that cursed fabric. You so badly wanted to sit up and rip them off of him, but the way he looked down at you was a threat in itself. There was no emotion on his face as he unbuttoned his pants. His eyes were those of a predator locked onto you. Before, that look scared you, but now it ignited a fire within your chest.
It felt like years before he allowed himself free from his underwear. His hardened cock stood before you in between the opening of his pants. He leaned down over you, placing one of his elbows beside your head as his other hand held your chin. His eyes were full of admiration and love now as he looked deep into your eyes. “Are you ready?” He whispered softly. With your permission of a vigorous nod, his hand left your chin to grab himself, pressing the head of his cock against your opening before sliding in. The fullness you were experiencing raised you to new heights, your head falling back as you moaned.
Your arousal provided enough lubrication for him to thrust with ease. He started out slow at first, but quickly picked up his pace after noticing how much you were enjoying yourself. He sat up, grabbing one of your legs and throwing it over his shoulder. You gasped at how deep he was penetrating you, his own grunts mixing with your moans. You couldn’t handle listening to your pathetic cries. Your hands moved up his arms, traveling to his face. You pulled him down into a passionate kiss, his chest pressing against yours.
Dazai’s hips snapped against yours, his fingers digging into your sides as he held onto you. Dazai pulled away from the kiss, his forehead pressed against yours. Your hot breaths mixed together, eyes locked in a loving embrace. He smiled at you, the sound of his skin slapping against yours filling the room, “You’re so beautiful.” He whispered. The bed creaked against the floor, the loud sounds the two of you were making the least of your worries. You responded with whimpered moans, pursing your lips together in an effort to quiet yourself. Your breasts bounced as he thrusted into you, one of his hands moving down to grab them, squeezing the soft flesh.
Your leg around his hip pulled him tightly against you as the knot in your abdomen got tighter. Dazai groaned softly, feeling your walls squeeze around him. Your moans were like sweet candy to him, and he had a sweet tooth. He buried his face in your neck, his hands grabbing onto your hips as he began to pound himself into you. Your chin rested against his shoulder, fingers digging into his back as you screamed with pleasure. He could hardly push himself into you from how tightly your pussy was holding him. He groaned into your neck, wanting to finish with you, but barely holding onto his orgasm.
He continued on, his lips pressed against your neck. The feeling in your stomach grew tighter and tighter the longer he fucked you. Your release was right there, stuck as it struggled to burst. Dazai could hear your labored breaths, dragging his fingers along your body to move underneath his own, his fingers circling around your clit once more. That was all it took for your climax to rip throughout your body, sending jolts of electricity into your muscles. You gasped, your body seeming to freeze up as he helped you ride out your orgasm. Your pulsating walls helped him reach his own, his cum shooting deep into your starving cunt.
His breathing was heavy as he let out a long groan, his thrusts now sloppy and exasperated. You let out a pleased hum, your eyes fluttering shut as you began to relax, coming down from your high. Dazai’s body pressed against yours completely, unable to keep himself up any longer. You let out a pleased sigh, feeling him pull out of you as he rolled over beside you. You smiled, moving onto your stomach, looking up at his exhausted face. His hair was stuck to his forehead, sweat dripping down the sides of his face. You snuggled into his side happily, looking out the balcony that was now completely dark, the only source of light coming from the bright blue moon in the sky. He truly looked like a prince. He looked down at you, raising his hand to play with your hair. He used his other hand to gently rub your back, his voice soft as he spoke, “Are you okay?” You smiled, “I’m great.” He laid his head back into the pillows, satisfied with your response. He pulled you further onto his chest, pressing a kiss on top of your head. He let out a long exhale.
“Please commit a lover’s suicide with me…”
“Can we get married first at least?”
“Ugh.”
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This was posted to my ao3 and wattpad if you would like to support me there!
hellooooo i am new to the genshin community i hope you enjoy my work! i look forward to writing more genshin fics in the future !
i rewrote this shit like a million times i put way too much time into this even tho it’s short— i’m so nervous to post this shit bro anyways
the ending is open to interpretation, if anyone who sees this wants a continuation i might just make a part two idkkk……
Alatus
No warnings provided, proceed with caution
Just nice fluff with the pretty boy
“Alatus?”
“Yes my love?”
“I love you.”
That was the last time the Yaksha had ever seen you. Morax had slain the god ruling over Xiao, but you were no where to be found. Two thousand years later and the Adeptus is still left wondering the lands of Liyue in a frantic search for you. Zhongli watched over the warrior, wishing he knew your whereabouts, wanting to put an end to his pain. Xiao spent most of his nights awake, staring at the stars, wondering if you were up there with them. Xiao closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath. “Alatus…” His eyes shot open, looking around him for where the familiar voice had come from. “Y/N..?” He whispered. He sighed, thinking that he must be hallucinating. If you were really there he would’ve been able to find you by your call. His head thudded against the ground as he fell back down onto his back, running his fingers through his teal locks.
“Alatus.”
Again? But he couldn’t sense you anywhere. He had to be hearing things. Maybe he had finally gone mad. He groaned, holding his head. “Alatus.” Again. He was getting ticked off. Was this some kind of trick? Was someone messing with him? “Fuck off…” He mumbled, pulling his knees up to his chest. He could feel his chest begin to tighten, his eyes getting watery. He let out a soft huff, lifting his head up to rest his chin on his arms. As much as he felt like he was numb, his feelings towards you would never fade away. You were the only thing he had ever loved. He liked to think that he would throw everything away for you if he had to, but he knew it was his duty to protect this land.
“Alatus.”
Xiao was seriously about to lose it. He was on the brink of falling into a fit of madness. That was until he saw it. A soft light coming from inside a crevice of rock in the side of the mountain in front of him. Xiao sprung to his feet, scrambling over to the odd occurrence. “Come.” Come? Was this where you had been all this time? Had he finally gotten close enough for you to call for him? Xiao was quick to discover the seal blocking the way. He sighed, staring at the lettering and symbols, trying to figure it out. A gentle hand picked at his own, bringing him out of his thoughts. He was not frightened, he felt safe. He turned his head to the figure beside him. It was you. Your spirit, guiding him. Your gaze was fixated on the seal, your hand pressing Xiao’s into it. Your eyes closed, slowly fading away along with the seal.
Xiao wanted to run inside and encase your body with his, but he was scared. He hasn’t seen you in two thousand years. What if he had lost his touch? Was he still what you had wanted? What if he finally broke and unleashed on you? He fought away as his thoughts, forcing himself inside of the abode. It was dark at first, but opened up into a whole other world. Stars filled the sky, with a bright full moon. Floating islands filled with lush grass and luminescent flowers. Towering cherry blossom trees, and elegant butterflies fluttering around. There you were, head resting against the trunk of one of the large trees, peacefully sleeping. He stood there admiring you, feeling a soft smile creep up onto his lips. The Yaksha walked over and sat down beside you, laying his head on yours, closing his eyes. It felt so peaceful in here, he was thankful. Thankful you hadn’t been locked away in a chamber, suffering. You were almost free in here, and that was better.
Xiao fell into a deep slumber beside you. The first time he had slept in thousands of years. He had found you again. He was at peace. No nightmares. No dreams. Just sleep. Something he had needing for a very long time.
You stared at your lover as he slept away. You had carefully moved him into your lap when you woke up. All you wanted to do was stare at his pretty face. He looked so calm, as if every ounce of stress had left his body. You ran your fingers through his hair, bringing it away from his face. You brushed the backs of your fingers against his cheek, caressing it. The sunlight pierced through the leaves of the blossom tree, illuminating his face with soft light. You smiled, leaning back against the tree, looking up at the clouds. As much as you wanted to run out into the real world, you were used to it here. This was your home. You were thankful that the god who locked you away gave you such a beautiful prison.
“You’re so beautiful.” The raspy yet sweet voice of your lover graced your ears. You smiled, looking down at him. “Good morning…” You whispered, cupping his cheek. His hand wrapped around yours, pressing his face into it, shutting his eyes. He took a deep breath, and exhaled, wanting to feel your touch forever. He didn’t realize how touch starved he was until now. He had been alone for so long he forgot what it felt like. Especially yours. Xiao looked up at you, eyes locking with yours. You stared at each other in a comfortable silence, the gentle sound of leaves rustling in the background.
Xiao sat up, holding your face, bringing towards his, pressing his lips to yours. You closed your eyes, melting into his touch. He laid you down in the soft grass, propping himself up over you. Your fingers ran through his hair as you smiled into the kiss. You were finding it hard to hold back your happiness. You pulled away with a giggle, looking into his golden orbs. “Where have you been…” You whispered. Xiao pressed his forehead against yours, sighing, “I’ve been searching for a very long time, my love.” “I’ve been calling for you.” You murmured, kissing his lips. “I’m so sorry…” He sounded like he was about to cry, “I could’ve prevented this from happe—“ “No… Alatus, my love… No…” You smiled, holding his face to look him in the eyes, “none of this is your fault. None…” You whispered, watching the dread in his eyes slowly fade away. “I love it when you call me that…” He sighed, laying down beside you, playing with your hair. “Why? It’s just your name.” You giggled, finding it odd. He let out a raspy chuckle, smiling. “I’ve been going by Xiao for quite some time now…” He explained. “Xiao? I like it…” You turned onto your side to face him, propping your head up with your arm. Xiao was in love with how his new name rolled right off of your tongue. He couldn’t stop staring at you. You were addicting. “Well, Xiao, why don’t you show me around the new world?” You broke him out of his trance, the cloudiness in his eyes dissipating. He grunted, sitting up, “Yeah…” So much was ahead of you and this was just the beginning.
warning to all of my myers fandom followers i will be posting content that is not myers. feel free to unfollow, etc. i will be posting genshin x readers (going to at least try to writers block is eating my ass.)
i have recently become very unmotivated to write on michael, so i am planning to branch off my account into other fandoms. i have no plans to write for michael again unless i somehow find it in me to do so. thank you guys for being with me along the way! i have wrote A LOT for michael. i’ve grown out of it, and now i wanna move on into other things <3
Hi! Could you do one where Michael has a teen GenZ daughter or son? Where he or she just does random tiktoks on Michael and he’s just there all confused. 😭 I think it would be so funny lol
I love your blog btw. You write Michael so well !! <3
bro… this is so fucking funny
Tiktok
Is literally constantly shoving a phone in Michael’s face recording
Pisses Michael the fuck off he hates his face being shown
Isn’t allowed to post the videos of his face, only the ones where he’s in his mask
Michael doesn’t understand half of what they do
Why is there dubstep music blasting and why are they putting their phone literally all around his face in sync with the music
Doesn’t act or do anything special for the tiktok he just sits or stands there staring
Michael had become thoroughly obsessed with watching you — stalking you each day, shadowing your movements, haunting your steps. He wasn’t aware if you knew just how much he trailed after you, how entangled he was into each facet of your life. Maybe it was better that way, better if you were blissfully oblivious to it all. There was no escaping him, no unraveling yourself from the festering bloodlust of the Boogeyman.
Some nights were different from others.
You would be tangled up within your sheets, caught in a deep slumber, and Michael would stand at your bedside, towering over you with his head cocked to one side. There were rare instances where he would prod the tip of his knife against your bare shoulder, letting the flat of the blade smooth across your flesh. The sight alone was amorous enough — it was grossly appealing to the Shape, whose gaze often lingered on your arcadian expression.
Currently, he stood inside of your bathroom, all of the lights switched off and the door left ajar. You hadn’t heard him enter your home — granted, he moved like a liquid shade, terrifyingly silent. However, you were distracted with phone calls from your distant friends that left you vulnerable and unobservant.
The hulking shape of his dangerous bulk lingered inside of the black pit, watching you lay all sprawled out across your bed, ankles locked together and the phone nestled to your cheek. Michael got some thrill watching you like this, especially when you were completely and utterly oblivious to it.
After sharing your first kiss over a week ago, Michael was increasingly fascinated by what more he could do to you. He was still a man — perhaps not fully mortal, but his desires were still conventional and predictable. His discovery of a pleasure greater than killing fueled this sudden burst of lust, which Michael was all but numb to until now.
He hadn’t kissed you again since then, only keeping the thought of it within the forefront of his mind. Michael was dangerously possessive of you, and he only wanted more. Through the cracked, fading slits of his mask, Michael’s lecherous glower idly traced across your lounging form, over the exposed curve of your hips and bare legs.
You were so very naive, a guileless girl without any clue of what lingered inside of her bedroom. Michael enjoyed the exhilaration it brought him — if you were one of his victims, it would’ve been just as sweet, just as satisfying. It was more meaningful and arousing since you were his, but he couldn’t help himself from slipping into old thoughts.
Michael hadn’t had sex before himself — he’d only seen it dozens of times, and it all disinterested him until very recently. The more he pictured you in the place of those moaning women, the more it enticed him. Those idiotic shrinks at Smith’s Grove had attempted to expose him to videos of sex, assuming it would get a rise out of him, but back then, he didn’t care.
Oh, but he did care — cared about that awestruck, devoted look in your pretty eyes after he’d kissed you, the hammering of your pulse when his fingers tensed along your slender neck, the way you careened into his domineering kiss with a breathy moan. Michael cared, even if he was bitter in admitting to such a thing.
It was still irksome to succumb to his long-dormant emotions, but the more he entrenched himself in you, the closer he edged toward the point of no return. Each thought of what he wanted to do to you was incendiary, searing — it was consuming him. Before long, Michael knew he wouldn’t be able to control himself. You would be agreeable to it, wouldn’t you?
As you rolled over onto your back, one knee propped up, it was mesmerizing to watch your t-shirt ride up past your hips, clad only in panties underneath. Your cellphone was hovering above your ear, an exuberant smile glued to your face, dimples and all. You must’ve been talking to someone important, but Michael’s attention perked up when you alluded to him.
“I’m sort of seeing somebody,” You mused, tone bright yet sheepish as your teeth skimmed across your nearly-healed lower lip. It was scabbed-over with a blotch of crimson from where Michael had bitten you days prior. “He’s really protective, it’s a nice change of pace.” Propping your arm underneath your head, you decided to talk about Michael to your friend.
Of course, you weren’t going to share any explicit details. It wouldn’t sound completely sane if you discussed being with Michael Myers, the babysitter murderer. Instead, you nimbly avoided any invasive questions about your murderous paramour, electing to keep it all subtle. At least she was aware that you weren’t alone in Haddonfield or suffering from a lack of romantic companionship — Michael wasn’t exactly a romantic himself, though.
“I am happy,” You nodded fervently, tracing your fingers against the soft cotton of your pillowcase. “I like it here in Haddonfield, and I don’t want to leave. I like him.” There was a moment of silence before your nose wrinkled in amusement, your expression playfully coy as you let out another hum. “His name is Mike. That’s all I’m telling you.”
Michael was vastly intrigued — you were establishing a sense of togetherness, he concluded. He expected himself to be awash with anguish or agitation, but he wasn’t. There wasn’t anyone else for him, and choosing you was one of his more unexpected yet worthwhile decisions. Deep down, he liked that you were set on exclusivity. It meant that you weren’t going anywhere. You belonged to him, just how it should be.
“He’s older, but I really like it.” You hesitated. “No, he’s not a father or anything, just older.” Erupting into a fit of laughter, you clamped your legs together, sheepishly nibbling upon your lower lip. “How old do you think he is?” Your girlish displays were innocuous, really. Michael took some sliver of enjoyment in watching you behave your age — all about a boy, swapping stories with your friend.
It was reassuring to know that you were comfortable with his age, a nagging insecurity of his. For Michael, a man who was into his early sixties, it could’ve been damaging or demoralizing for you to be adverse to his aging, but you were completely content with it. Michael continued to watch you smile and laugh, all giddy as you idly knocked your knees together, rolling your eyes at some lewd comment your friend made.
“We haven’t done anything yet.” A twinge of disappointment saturated your tone, but you were quick to let it fade. “I don’t mind taking things slow, but I really want to, you know?” You paused, letting out a bark of a laugh. You murmured something into your phone, bashful countenance flushing with a bright, rosy shade. “Hey, you asked.” You protested with an exaggerated groan.
Ah, the established mutualism. As embarrassed as you were to admit to your friend that you definitely wanted to have sex with Michael, it was the whole truth. You’d thought about it more than you cared to admit, maybe a little too much, but you couldn’t continue to lie to yourself. A little noise from your bathroom made you jump, head whipping over your shoulder — it was nothing, but you remained skeptical.
Michael’s innate possession over you lashed out within that moment, fists clenched and turning white. It took an inhuman amount of restraint not to stomp over and pin you down, even while you were still on the phone, but he was attempting to be methodical. Each movement you made, hitch or shift of fabric, every little smile — he wanted you so terribly, it was nearly painful. He wanted to have sex with you, then and there.
His initial idea was to storm in and frighten you, rip off your shirt and pin you against his chest, but that had the potential to be disastrous or backfire. Michael wanted to ease into it, at least slightly, or squeeze your throat a little to get a rise out of you. Your supple, scantily-clad form was enticing, making him become both covetous and aroused. Still, he kept himself inside of the shadowed bathroom for now.
Watching you sit up, you said your goodbyes through tender laughter, pressing the end call button before flopping back down into your mattress. It was rare for Michael not to be around at this hour, but you assumed he wanted space, or he was out hunting. Either way, you weren’t exhausted enough to try to sleep. You were facing in the opposite direction, back toward the bathroom as you fluffed out your pillows.
As you wriggled back around, you nearly screamed when Michael happened to appear at the foot of your bed, stealing the breath from your lungs. With a strangled gasp, you stuttered, a little flustered when you realized he might’ve been in your room the whole time — your bedroom door was still tightly shut. “Michael,” You lilted, hastily sweeping some of your hair out of your face. “Where did you come from?”
Abysmal silence.
Chewing upon the inside of your cheek, Michael canted his head to one side, watching you calm from your moment of shock. Knowing you wouldn’t get any coherent answer, you tucked one leg underneath you, unable to think of anything reasonable to say. There was some strange tension that lingered between the two of you, able to be sliced with a knife. Michael’s eerie glowering sent shivers up your spine, goosebumps beginning to flourish all along your spine.
With trenchant steps, Michael slunk toward you, rounding the corner of your bed frame until he stood in front of you, breathing unusually heavy as it reverberated against the mask. There was a lack of sluggishness to his movements this time, weathered hand outstretching until his palm slid against your neck, digits tensing at either side of your jaw. His firm hold was all too familiar, the pad of his thumb sweeping across your puffy lower lip.
Whatever sort of mood Michael happened to be in, you were beyond compliant, rolling up onto your knees to get a little closer. Your amatory gestures lacked the hesitance from last time, as you pressed your mouth against the exposed flesh around his neck. A wandering hand would find your fabric-clad torso, brazenly slipping underneath your shirt in order to grope at your hips with a thunderous rumble.
That direful hold upon your jaw would direct your visage away from his neck, commanding your attention as those black pits bored into your doe-like stare. Your lips fell apart as a subtle sigh emerged from you, and Michael was preoccupied in picking you apart — each fluctuation, the emotions you were feeling, the blossoming of color in your cheeks. You were mesmerizing, simply put.
Michael’s fingers hovered above your thrumming pulse, just underneath your jawbone. He could feel you warm underneath his hold, shiver with anticipation. Beginning to squeeze, Michael’s hand cupped your jugular, his grasp tightening until he heard you whimper. In a gentler motion, he guided you down, nudging you backwards until you were laying flat on your back atop the mattress. Your chest rose and fell erratically, curious to know his intentions.
Perplexed, Michael’s hand released your throat, snaking down until it tangled at the hem of your shirt. He would tug it up with a stoic grunt, watching you clamor to comply as you lifted it over your head, ruffling your pretty hair in the process. Michael had seen you like this many times, but never willingly. It was always from outside or the dark of your room, but now? This meant something, this was a ruminative move.
Closing in around you, Michael’s curiosity began to grow as he kneaded one hand against your chest. You were painfully pretty like this, only clad in your panties, all flushed and flustered just for him. Granted, you were pretty all the time, but Michael savored the amorous tension of the moment, watching you gasp and keen into his touch.
Watching you had made him hard, but being trapped within the moment was effective at furthering his arousal. He was easing into it, but his impatience bubbled to the surface as seconds ticked by. Michael felt you squirm, feeling your hips briefly touch his, involuntarily grinding into his groin. It made matters worse, lust rising like some tidal wave as he grunted again, leering down upon you.
Bristling with excitement, your gut churned with butterflies, heat pooling between your legs. If Michael’s intentions happened to be what you assumed, you were delirious with desire, ensnared by the familiar, voidlike pits of his mask.
The faint glimmer of light upon your nightstand offered the faintest glimpse at the aging visage underneath, cerulean eye practically transfixed. You let him explore, sighing with passion as his rough hands traversed your body.
Michael left no stone unturned, kneading into every place upon your body, savoring your soft flesh, committing it to memory. When he reached your hips, he could hear you inhale, as if awaiting his next move. Michael was inexperienced, but he wasn’t stupid or lacked common sense by any means. Slipping his hand into your panties, the sound you made was delicious, somewhere between a moan and whimper.
You were absolutely desperate, wistful for contact. You were just as inexperienced as he was, starved for an amatory sort of embrace. Choking back a wanton squeak, Michael’s fingers slid against your cunt, and to your embarrassment, you were soaked. Anticipation coupled with fantasy had led you to that point, but Michael was willing to further it, lazily grazing your folds with two digits.
“Like this,” You couldn’t help yourself, gently showing Michael how to touch you. It seemed that the both of you were impatient, but Michael was willing to set his aside in order to try something. As soon as you showed Michael, he picked up almost immediately, mimicking the circular strokes around your clit. “There.” With a breathy whine, you jolted into his hand.
With a pleasant, softer grunt, Michael’s calloused digits rolled against your clit, drawing out every sound imaginable. You were going to enjoy it while it lasted, as he didn’t have intentions of touching you for very long. His rhythm was choppy and a little obtuse at first, but it was like heaven to you as he rubbed against that sensitive clutch of nerves, your fingers curling into the sheets.
Letting his fingers grow more confident, Michael let them rub across your cunt, tingling with delight whenever you made the tiniest noise, breathily moaning his name. Watching you roll and keen into his hand was a most lascivious sight, his thumb beginning to flick your clit as his other digits prodded and teased your entrance. He wouldn’t push them in, merely testing the waters for your reaction. “Michael,” You whimpered, skin crawling with a feverish heat.
Just before his fingers slipped into more of a vigorous rhythm, he completely denied you, removing them away in order to rip your panties off instead. Michael was reaching his limit with waiting, hands curling into tight fists as he jerked them down your legs, hovering over you with a sudden intensity. That pale rubber of the mask nearly met your own skin, and you were enthralled, watching him violently yank the light on your nightstand.
Similar to your first kiss, Michael preferred the cover of total darkness, masking his appearance and his movements, obscuring him from your view. Sluggishly, he unzipped those navy coveralls, neglecting to shrug the upper half aside. Disrobing was something he despised anyway, merely electing to have enough space to free his cock. Age didn’t stop him, and it certainly wasn’t about to stop his surge of stamina.
Grasping at your hips, Michael forced his way between your legs, using the edge of the mattress for some leverage. He was unbearably hard, cock pressing against the warmth of your slit. You shuddered, barely able to fathom that this was happening. Words seemed to coagulate within the back of your throat, nothing emerging save for a string of desirous whimpers, his head hovering just above yours.
Despite the aching want for him, you hoped he’d go a little slower — this would be a first for the both of you, but Michael had a tendency to succumb to his feral urges. You were clamoring to hold onto him, hands furtively grasping at his chest, his calloused palm roughly gripping into the swell of your hip, tight enough to leave behind bruises. Your heart was racing, pounding so hard that you could practically hear it.
Rolling his hips, Michael grinded himself against you, his cock sliding against your folds. He was wrought with a festering desire, subtle when compared to yours, but he was ablaze. Michael hesitated, adjusting himself before rocking back into you again. He was well-endowed for a man of his age, his length prodding against your cunt, making you writhe within his grasp. You were desperate for him to thrust inside, biting down on your lower lip.
With enough force, he pushed his hips forward, cock edging inside of you. Michael’s breathing was incredibly heavy, noisy and husky as he let out some stoic grunt. You were rather tight, and mutual inexperience made the both of you very sensitive to any little movement. Burying your face near his chest, you let out a high-pitched moan, hips sore with how ironclad Michael’s hold was, as if he’d break you in two.
There was a fraction of a second to adjust before Michael rutted into you, cock forcing its way inside this time. He was a little more tender than you thought he’d be, but you wouldn’t hold your breath if there happened to be a second time. Jerking forward, Michael began to set a very uneven, rocky pace, not that you cared. Michael grunted, snapping into you again until you were stuffed with his cock, mouth agape as you moaned into his shoulder.
This wasn’t like the films or anything you’d witnessed before. This was a touch awkward, two starved lovers uncertain of what to do. Michael was focused nonetheless, finding pleasure in being inside of you as he reached up with his free hand, lightly grappling your silky tresses in order to place you flat on the bed again. Available to grope either side of your hips, he glowered down upon you, an enticing sight which spurred him on.
Michael’s rougher thrusting began to lose a bit of tact, cock twitching and throbbing inside of you. It felt incredible, the lust and desire, a sensation akin to killing — that was difficult to find, and Michael was all too eager to chase after the high, beginning to find his pace. You were right there with him, legs propped up and spread apart as he hunched inward, cock pounding into you with a needy force.
“Fuck, Michael,” You weren’t one to mutter expletives, but this was an exception. Admittedly, Michael found some humor in your colorful language, nearly pulling his cock from you completely before erratically rutting back into your weeping cunt. His hold on your hips was terrifyingly unyielding, executing a fair amount of his brutish strength as he succumbed to his desires. It was more than he expected it to be, but it was all because of you. “Keep going.” You mewled, encouraging him to continue.
Neither of you were going to last very long at this rate, but Michael was hellbent on getting the most satisfaction from it. You were perfect, squirming underneath him, pinned down like his prey — very pretty prey. His pace wasn’t enough to leave you obliterated or ragged, but it was rather intense for a first time, especially for you.
Meekly, you rolled your hips into his groin, nearly sputtering when his cock slipped inside completely. Heat flooded between your thighs, slick along your slit as Michael kept up.
He was relentless, simply put. Whatever tenderness he’d had before had almost dissipated completely, turning to fucking you. There was still a sliver of care — he could’ve lifted the mask to bite you, which he thought about doing, but there was only so much Michael could execute all at once. His focus hinged upon finding a release, pistoning himself into your tight cunt with a myriad of sonorous grunts.
That was when one of his hands suddenly left your hip, angry-red marks left in its wake. Michael’s hand slipped toward your throat, applying pressure just underneath the delicate curve of your jaw. It wasn’t enough to scare you, but enough to invoke his presence, give you a reminder. You were reaching a heady euphoria, hearing Michael’s thunderous rumbles and string of arduous grunts, rutting into your cunt with more of a brutal want.
The slight sensation of choking coupled with Michael pounding into you resulted in a calamitous reaction, hips bucking and back beginning to arch. With a noisy moan, you were pushed into your orgasm, insides jostled by Michael’s amount of force, not that you minded.
He watched you twitch and shudder, careening into his hips as you ground yourself against his groin, evoking another low grunt from the Shape. You were panting, letting out a soft huff as Michael continued.
It was a simple gesture, placing your hand over his, the one that grasped your throat, simple enough to push Michael over the edge. He partially came inside of you, roughly tugging himself out of your tight slit, a few ropes of cum splattering against your stomach.
It was a little crude, but you remembered that this was new territory for him. Michael was just as eerily still as he was before your endeavor, tucking himself back into his coveralls before zipping up.
You were strewn across the edge of the mattress, skin colored scarlet and stomach covered in Michael’s cum. The soreness didn’t arrive until many moments later as you cleaned yourself up in the bathroom, with Michael standing directly behind you, chest nestled against your back.
There was no pillowtalk, and there never would be, but you could tell that he was less tense. Cracking a smile, you tugged your shirt back on, feeling him scoop you up.
Michael may have been emotionally callous and horribly passive, but he wasn’t devoid of emotion. His capabilities were reaching new heights as he planted you into his lap — not exactly cuddling, but you considered it to be close enough. You were shocked that he even wanted to stay after this, but it was a sign of your misjudgment. You didn’t make any comments or gush about how amazing it was, but instead, your fingers slipped against the edge of his mask.
To your surprise, he didn’t stop you, knowing that you were intelligent enough not to overstep your boundaries. You would lift it up just enough to find his roughened lips, initiating the kiss instead — second kiss, that is. It was tender and adoring, your kisses always were.
The progression of this evening was beyond satisfying to you, and Michael could taste your smile upon his mouth. He reciprocated enough to sate the both of you, keeping an eye on your hand. As you let the pale rubber drop, you had some sneaky look on your face, like you knew something he didn’t.
Michael didn’t like it.
“The next time you want to eavesdrop, maybe don’t stand in the only other space available.”
You knew he was there, in your bathroom.
Glowering down upon you with a stingy glare, Michael responded by harshly groping your backside, causing you to let out a squeak.
He would most definitely get you back for that later.
Could we get a headcannon of Michael Myers with a fem s/o that used to be his Therapist at Smith’s Grove?? Like maybe it was Loomis’ assistant and she would have some one-on-one time with Mikey 😳 (either SFW or NSFW is good, Tysm if u decide to make it!!)
enjoy this little fic
Therapist
Sexual content
You lived with your parents. Ever since you got laid off of your job at Smith’s Grove you haven’t found yourself being able to leave the house. Your parents were too nice to kick you out, so they just watched you fall deeper and deeper into your depression. They had no clue what was wrong with you. They assumed something happened at your job that made you like this, and they were right. You lost the one thing that kept you going everyday. Michael.
“Hi, Michael, I’m your new therapist.”
Oh how you wished you never spoke those words. The amount of trouble it brought to you. The amount of heartbreak. The only feeling inside you now was emptiness. You were a hollow shell of a human. It’s been years. Hurting over the only man who could’ve stolen your heart this way. You held the firm belief that Michael was your soulmate. You refused to imagine being with another. He was the one. The only. He was out there somewhere, and you waited for the day he came home to you.
“Y/N, honey? Dinner’s ready if you’re hungry.” Your mother called from the kitchen. You were buried in your covers, stuck staring at the blank wall. “Coming…” You sighed, knowing she couldn’t hear you. You threw the covers off of you, bringing your legs to the edge of the bed, staring at your feet. Your ankle had a small makeshift bracelet around it. You took in a deep breath, closing your eyes.
“Michael it’s gorgeous…” You smiled up at the stoic man as you held the bracelet he made for you. “I can’t wear this on my wrist because it’s a hazard, but I’ll wear it on my ankle. No one will know it’s there but me and you.” You kneeled down, pulling up your pants, and tying it around your ankle. Michael stared quietly, showing no emotion. “There! I’ve always wanted an anklet…” You sighed, wiggling your foot around, watching it dangle. It was a piece of leather rope, with beads on it, the letter M right in the middle of them. Michael’s way of subtly claiming you.
You pulled yourself out of bed, trudging your way downstairs. Your father laid on his recliner in the living room, watching his usual sports channel. His snores so loud you could hear him down the street. “Hey, sweetie. I went ahead and made you a plate over there.” Your mother waved towards the table, where a plate full of food laid. You doubted you would even finish it all, hell a few bites was good for you. “Thanks, Mom…” You gave her a quick smile before turning away from her, going back to a frown. You sat down, staring at the food. You felt like you’d gag if you even took a bite. You knew you had to eat, you haven’t eaten at all today.
“Eat before it gets cold, Y/N! Gosh— I left the burner on!” Your mother was quite clumsy and oblivious. She knew how to make a meal, but it was no five star. Last time she tried making something new she burned the flooring, and your father had to go to the hospital with first degree burns on his hand. Now there was a large black spot in the middle of the kitchen. Father tried buffing it out but it just made it look worse. Now it looked like the floor was caving in. It went along with the rest of the house honestly. Cracks scattered the walls and ceilings, some nails popping out from the boards behind the paint. Water damage in many places, and stains in the carpet. You knew they didn’t have the money to fix any of it, but it felt normal. This was home.
Something moved in the window from the corner of your eye, taking your interest. You whipped your head towards the motion, curious. “I think somethings outside, I’m gonna go check it out.” You told your Mother, keeping your eyes on the window as you grabbed a coat, making your way to the door. “Honey it’s probably just those ‘coons again. Don’t worry ‘bout ‘em.” “Well then I’ll go scare them away…” You mumbled, slipping your arms through your coat, swinging the door open. The cool breeze smacked you in the face like a ton of bricks. You were surprised it wasn’t snowing from how cold it was.
You quickly closed the door behind you before your Father woke up screaming about it. You exhaled, a cloudy fog expelling into the air in front of you. You looked around the sides of the house, seeing nothing. A loud crunch filled your ears from behind you. Fear took over your entire body, making you freeze up. You slowly turned your head, white filling up the corner of your eye. Your breath hitched, a familiar smell suffocating you. You quickly turned all the way around, backing away from the mystery.
In front of you stood a tall man, about 6’3, broad shoulders, wearing blue coveralls and a white Captain Kirk mask. The two of you stood in silence, staring at each other. You were trembling from the cold, your coat not doing much. You let out a short laugh, pursing your lips. “Nice trick buddy… You’re lucky I came out and not my Father.” You chuckled, walking past him to the door. He turned around to face you, not saying a word. He smelled so comforting, but you paid no mind to it. “Uh… Have a good night…” You smiled, waving a bit as you opened the door, walking inside. He didn’t speak a word, only staring as you closed the door.
“What was it?” Your mother questioned, standing in the doorway of the kitchen. “Just some guy messing with me again…” You sighed, beginning to make your way up the stairs. “Y/N you didn’t touch your fo—“ “I’m not hungry.” You interrupted her quickly, slightly annoyed. You sped to your room, shutting the door behind you. You took in a shaky breath, your lips squeezing together as they quivered. Your back pressed against the door, sliding down until you hit the ground. Your fingers tangled themselves in your hair. You pressed your forehead against your knees, bursting into tears.
“I love you, Michael Audrey Myers.” You whispered, fingers brushing across his forehead, pushing his sweaty curls away from his face. His eyes flicked from your lips to your eyes, locking with them. The two of you laid on the couch in your office, naked. You pressed your lips to his, cupping his cheek. His hand ran up your thigh, his fingers tracing along your skin. Michael just took you in the roughest way possible, just how you liked it. Michael was a quiet, mysterious man, but you knew exactly how to read his every thought.
Michael had never spoken to you, but you knew he loved you. It showed in his actions. You even knew he’d kill for you. You see it in his eyes when he sees you with other men. You were his, and you knew it. You’ve been Michael’s therapist for several years, and only recently has he started to be more touchy. He was hesitant, but now he can’t get enough. He was touch starved, and as much as he’d hate to admit it, you were the solution. Michael moved his hands to his sides as you pulled away from the kiss. You sat up, reaching to grab your clothes. Michael stared at your body, watching each muscle move underneath your skin. Time was up. Michael had to get dressed and go to his group therapy with you as if nothing had happened.
Making love with Michael would be just plain fucking to other people. Michael wasn’t soft and sweet, he was violent. And you missed it. You wanted to feel his hand wrapped around your throat while his dick slammed into you. You wanted to feel his aggressive love again. You wanted to be connected with him again. As much as you missed the more intimate moments, you missed Michael’s sweet moments the most.
You sat with Michael in front of the window, watching the clouds. It was a daily routine. Watch the clouds, and point out shapes to Michael. If there were no clouds you’d still stare out with him, and admire nature’s beauty. It was something he looked forward to each day, it calmed him down. You laid your head on Michael’s shoulder, sighing, “I’ll get you out of here. Then we can actually go outside and watch the clouds.” Michael knew that wasn’t going to happen. If anything he’d be the one getting himself out. He placed his hand over yours, squeezing it gently. He laid his head on top of yours, letting out a deep breath.
“Fuck…” You whispered, wiping your tears away. You crawled along the floor to your bed, pulling yourself up onto it. You laid on your back, staring up at the ceiling. Your nights were filled with memories of Michael. After all of these years he was the only thing you could think about still. You remained loyal, only wanting him. You sniffled, feeling empty. You had cried all you could.
“Let me go! I can stop him! Please!” You cried, tugging your arms from the two guards dragging you down the hallway. Michael had escaped his cell, and was on a killing spree, killing everyone who got in his way. They had you evacuate the building, and took you away in a police car. That was the last day you saw Michael. It all happened so quick you could barely barely processed what had happened. All you wanted to do was jump out of the car and run back. You knew he was looking for you, and he wouldn’t stop hacking away until he did. “I could’ve stopped him.” You told the policeman driving the car. “Ma’am I understand, but it was Doctor’s orders to get everyone out of the building.” “Fuck Loomis, he doesn’t know shit…” You mumbled, fighting the tears brimming your eyes.
Michael had a soul behind those eyes. He was human, even if Loomis said otherwise. He was kind. He wasn’t just a stone cold killer. He had a heart. A small one, but it held so much love. Love he harbored for you. You slowly fell asleep to your thoughts, being swept away by your dreams.
You woke up freezing cold, sun gleaming right in your eyes. You groaned, rolling over, pulling your blanket over your head. A gentle knock sounded at your door, “honey, that man you were talking about is in the backyard…” Your mother sounded scared. You sighed, sitting up, “I’ll go take care of it.” You replied, rubbing your eyes. “Oh please hurry, he’s frightening!” “Yes, Mother, I know.” You groaned, wrapping your robe around you. You opened the door, walking past your Mom downstairs.
The man was still in the backyard to no surprise. However, he was sprawled out on the ground, staring at the sky. You stared out of the window with a weird look, “what a weirdo…” You mumbled, grabbing the doorknob, and twisting it, letting yourself outside. “Hey man, you’re kinda trespassing.” You chuckled, closing the door. He didn’t respond. “Look, it’s fucking freezing out here and I don’t wanna be out here. Could you please just go home?” You sighed, hugging yourself for warmth. Still no response.
You narrowed your eyes at him, grabbing a nearby shovel, walking over to him. “I said leave.” You hissed, holding the shovel up. Michael turned to face you, the sun shining through the eye holes of his mask. Your eyes widened, dropping the shovel. You could recognize those eyes anywhere. “Michael..?” You whispered, dropping to your knees, hesitantly reaching for his mask. He made no movement, signaling that it was okay to take it off. You were in complete disbelief. You about ripped it from his face, throwing it beside him. It was him. The same handsome face you knew. You had no clue why one of his eyes had gone white, but you weren’t going to question it now.
You laughed, tearing up. “I thought you were gone for good… I never thought you’d be able to find me.” You whispered, caressing his face. Michael grabbed your hand, bringing it to his lips, kissing your fingers. You giggled, smiling down at him. He pulled you down on top of him, looking back up at the clouds. You rolled over, laying on your back, your head on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around you. “Look, that one looks like a fox.” You pointed up at a weirdly shaped cloud.
It seemed unreal that he was right beside you. It felt like a dream, but it was real. He was actually there, and things continued on as if you two had never been separated. You had reason to keep going.
I could’ve done more with this… But whatever, enjoy whatever this is.
“What bothers you Michael?” So smooth… So calming. Your voice echoed like a beautiful harmony in his head. He could imagine running through the fields of the farm with you, laughing as your arms tugged at each other running. Stopping himself to turn and stare into your bright glowing eyes, sparkling in the light. Your skin was golden from the rays beaming down on you, your smile brighter than the sun. The wind blew through your hair, flowing away from your face.
Michael pulled you by your arm, bringing you close to his chest, holding your hands in his. He stared down at you with his deep ocean blue, and pearlescent scarred eyes. Michael only hoped you could feel the warmth from his heart in this moment, how you made him feel. His fingers laced themselves through your hair, running through the chilly strings. Your smile was like a slap in the face. You were the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. Ethereal in your surroundings.
He met you in the town’s local market, stuffing apples into your basket. Michael worked there, in charge of restocking shelves and cleaning around the place. He was stuck sweeping the day you came in, finding himself unable to work from the amount of times he got distracted by you. “Where’s Michael?” Your boss called from the middle of the store. He froze behind a shelf, continuing to stare at you. He heard your beautiful giggle, turning to face his boss, “he’s hiding behind that shelf.” You pointed directly at him. Michael chuckled, an awkward smile on his face as he walked out from behind the shelf. “Yes sir?” He coughed up the frog in his throat. You walked passed him, and your strong smell filled his senses, lifting him up. “Michael! What is up with you today?” Michael flinched, shaking his head. “Sorry, sir… Not feeling like myself today.” He mumbled, looking at your backside. The boss gave him a weird look, it was obvious he was distracted by you.
Michael found himself stalking you quite frequently. He couldn’t help himself. He was curious, and wanted to know more about you. You stayed in a camper next to a small lake with your mother. You weren’t like anything he had ever seen. You weren’t from around here, that was for sure. You wore clothes that brightened your mood, and made you feel free. People in this town wore things that made them uncomfortable in order to “fit in.” You were everything that people in this town wished they could be.
“Michael has a crush! Michael has a crush! Crush, crush, crush, crush!” “Shut up, Jason, you’re gonna get us caught!” Michael hissed, smacking his brother’s arm. Michael was stuck with his brother. No one else could take care of him, so he was left to. Jason was special, constantly giving new challenges to Michael to deal with. He liked to run off and climb high trees, or kill small animals and cry about it later. Michael loved him nonetheless, even if he found it extremely difficult not to beat the kid out of anger. “How about you go wait in the truck and count, Jason? Go catch some bugs for your spider to eat…” Michael suggested, holding Jason’s face still, looking at him with a serious look. “Yeah! Yeah, yeah! I’ll go catch bugs…” Jason squealed in delight, running off towards where Michael parked his truck.
Michael shook his head, looking back over at you. His eyes widened, you were looking directly in his direction. He ducked down, hiding in the brush. “Hey! What are you doing out here, buddy?” You shouted at him. Michael stayed frozen, not sure if he was prepared to admit he was stalking you. The sound of loud footsteps thumped behind Michael, running towards your direction. Jason. Michael’s body filled with fear. “I… I’m catchin’ bugs!” Jason smiled, holding up his jar filled with twigs, dirt, and leaves, and one big spider hidden in the midst. “Really? What are you feeding there?” You smiled at Jason, standing up to examine the jar he held.
Michael was in disbelief. He had never seen anyone act this way towards his brother. Usually people were scared of Jason, or concerned, and didn’t want to bother with him. They just stayed away, but you? You showed genuine kindness towards him. You didn’t want to stay away. “What’s your name?” You asked, brushing your hair back. “J-Jason…” “Hi, Jason… I’m Y/N. Your brother’s name is Michael right? Does he know you’re here?” Oh god. Not like this… “Yeah! He’s been watching you for hours now!” Jason giggled, pointing at Michael hiding in the brush. Your eyes landed on him with a smile, waving, “You can come out, and hang!” Michael stood up, brushing himself off, walking out of the bush with a nervous smile.
Jason jumped up and down, laughing. “Michael has a crush! Crush—“ “Jason, shut up! I-I’m sorry…” Michael sighed, running his fingers through his curly locks. “No… Don’t be sorry. I’m not sorry… Are you sorry, Jason?” You turned to Jason, just for him to shake his head no. “Yeah… We’re not sorry.” You smiled, patting Jason’s back. Jason smiled, looking up at Michael, laughing at him, “We’re not sorry!” “Yeah… You wanna go catch some bugs, Jason? Your spider there is looking awfully hungry.” You nudged him, earning a curious look from the kid. “Yeah!” He smiled, running off into the grass, watching where he was stepping, looking around for signs of life.
You turned to Michael, your gorgeous smile displayed on your face. “You stalking me huh? So interesting you couldn’t help yourself hm?” Michael couldn’t find words to explain himself, and stayed silent. “Cat got your tongue? Too bad… I was starting to like you.” You bit your lip. Michael grunted, coughing, “Jason wanted to look for bugs here…” “Is that so? You let him look for bugs and you… Sit there and watch me?” You crossed your arms, teasing him with your smile. “You’re… Different.” Michael managed to squeeze out. “Well… Everyone’s different. You’re different. Jason’s different.” Michael caught himself staring at you, and quickly looked away. You were putting him under some kind of spell.
“You… You just aren’t like the others in this town. You seem so… Carefree.” Michael sighed. Jason was squealing in the distance, having found a large grasshopper. “I am carefree. You live life to the fullest when you aren’t worried about anything. What’s to worry about? My body? My looks? How I speak? Why be worried about something you were specifically chosen for? Everything about me was meant for me, and I am beautiful in my own way. I’m not worried about pleasing others. There’s no fun in that…” You were watching Jason play, and Michael could see the genuine look of care in your eyes. You were different. Michael wasn’t going to let that down. The little time he has spent with you, you’ve changed him.
“We should uh… Head home. It’s getting late.” Michael chuckled, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Oh, yeah… Okay… I’ll see you some other time, I guess.” You smiled. Jason came running over, “look! He’s eating it!” He laughed, showing his spider hovering over the grasshopper he caught. “Wow, Jason… I think you’ve fed him for about a week!” You giggled, tapping on the glass. Jason smiled up at you. You wrapped your arms around him, hugging him, “Goodbye, Jason.” “Bye!” Jason laughed. You pulled away, looking up at Michael’s towering figure. “See you.” You whispered, turning and walking into your camper.
Michael watched you leave, entranced by you. He was encapsulated. He grunted, turning to Jason, “Let’s go, buddy…” He sighed, pushing Jason along to the truck. “No! I wanna stay…” Jason whined, holding his jar close. “It’s getting dark, Jason. We gotta get home and get you ready for bed… You’re filthy too. You need a bath.” “I’m stinky boy!” Jason laughed, getting into the truck with Michael’s help. Michael buckled him in, and shut the door, walking to the other side, hopping in and turning the key, starting the engine. It rumbled for a good while before starting up. Michael sighed, knowing the truck isn’t going to last him much longer.
The drive home was silent. Jason ended up falling asleep five minutes into the drive. Michael couldn’t get his mind off of you. Prettiest thing he had ever seen, so natural. You had the purest heart he’s ever come in contact with. He could hardly believe he met someone such as you. He wanted you. Badly, but it was going to take time. Or was it? He could feel the tension between the two of you already. Maybe what he wanted was going to come sooner than he thought.
Michael had gotten Jason up to his room. “You’re dirty, Jason, you need to bathe—“ “No! No…” Jason cried, squirming in Michael’s grasp. “Goddamnit, Jason! Come on!” Michael hissed, throwing him onto the bed. “You reek, man! We have to see people tomorrow, you need to be clean.” Michael ran his hands down his face, stressed out. “No! I’m not going!” Jason wouldn’t budge. Michael glared at him, now losing his temper. Michael grabbed Jason’s arm, forcefully tugging him out of bed, dragging him into the bathroom. “No! Stop Michael!” Jason yelled, hitting his head, tears brimming his eyes.
“Jason… Please.” Michael whispered, trying to keep himself calm. “No! Let go of—“ Smack. Jason laughed as he held his cheek where a pinkish handprint began to appear. Michael shook his head, frustrated, and quickly left the house, leaving Jason alone. Jason sat on the floor in the bathroom, just now beginning to cry, realizing what just happened to him. Michael stormed out to his truck, speeding down the road. He had one place in his mind to go. You.
The lights in your camper were on, bright against the darkness surrounding it. Michael parked his truck not far, and quickly made his way over, breathing heavily. “Hey… I can hear your truck from a mile away.” God you were so heavenly. He was already melting. “What’s wrong? You’re so tense…” You ran your fingers down his arm, tracing his muscles. “I hit him…” “You hit who?” “My brother… I-I hit him so hard, Y/N… I don’t know what’s wrong with me…” Michael felt himself begin to breakdown. “Hey, hey… It’s okay… What’s done is done, you can’t change that, but you can change how the future is going to go. You need to show him that you’re sorry. Fix things…” You rubbed his back, brushing his hair from his eyes.
Michael was so comforted by your words. You made everything… Better. He didn’t feel like a villain around you. Like a murderer. “Yeah… Alright…” Michael nodded, sniffling. He looked up at your soft face, lifting his hand up to grab your chin. You smiled down at him, grabbing his face and kissing him. Michael planned to kiss you first, but you beat him to it. Michael scoffed into the kiss, pushing you down onto the ground, lips moving desperately against yours. Your giggle interrupted his moment of passion, making him pull away with an offended look. “You’re cute…” You whispered, pecking his lips.
He’s cute? Why are you calling him cute? He’s not cute. Michael lifted himself off of you, stunned. He was having a hard time processing being called such a thing. “Go home to your brother, Michael… He needs you.” You were right. The feeling of panic filled Michael as he realized he left Jason home alone. “Fuck… Yeah, I-I’ll see you tomorrow— Probably.” Michael ran off back to his truck, shoving the keys into the ignition. You smiled, shaking your head as he left.
Michael was relieved to see that Jason was peacefully sleeping in bed. He was filthy, but that’s not that big of a deal. To him, at least. Michael crashed onto his own bed, staring at the ceiling. You wouldn’t leave his mind. That kiss was the best thing he’s ever experienced. It was better than sex. You were fucking magical. He found it hard to sleep, not being able to get you off his head. The one question that circled his mind was what were you going to think when you found out he was a killer? That he killed his own sister? Killed multiple others just because.
Michael woke up the next morning to Jason shaking him awake, laughing. “Wake up! Wake up!” He shoved Michael one last time before slapping him across the face. Michael groaned, holding his cheek with a smile. “You little asshole…” He whispered, grabbing Jason, throwing him onto the bed, tickling him. Jason screamed, thrashing around as he giggled. “Stop it Michael!” Michael pulled Jason close, hugging him, “I’m sorry about last night, alright? I deserved that slap, but don’t do it again…” “Okay…” Jason sighed.
There was a knock on the door, and Jason went running down the stairs to answer it. “It’s Y/N! Michael it’s Y/N!” He smiled happily, welcoming you in. “Hey… I thought I’d stop by.” You smiled. Michael gulped, “y-yeah… No problem. You thirsty? Anything?” He asked awkwardly, not knowing how to act right now. “I’m okay… Woah… You have… Quite the knife collection.” Michael’s heart about stopped. You were staring at his knife block in the kitchen. Why did he put it in view of the door… “Can I see them?” Did you seriously just ask if you could see his knives? He felt like he was about to break. Yes of course you could see his most prized possessions…
“These knives are beautiful Michael… Where did you get them?” “They were my father’s.” Michael replied, leaning against the counter as he watched you examine the cutlery. Jason began to laugh, staring at the knives. Michael frowned, glaring at Jason, a sign for him to cut it out. “M-Michael uses those to—“ “Jason.” Michael hissed. You were confused by the way Michael was acting, but you minded your own business, and didn’t question it. “Ow!” You hissed as you accidentally nicked yourself. You shook your hand around, sucking on the finger. Michael whipped around towards you, grabbing the knife from your hands, putting it away. “I’ll go get you a bandaid…” He mumbled, grabbing Jason’s arm and jerking him out of the room.
“What did I tell you about that secret, Jason? The lost art of keeping a secret. You remember that? You think you can be a good boy and not say anything?” Michael was dreading having to bring Jason back into that room with you. He had no trust in him once so ever. Jason could blurt out that Michael has killed people at any moment. Jason shook his head, “I-I understand.” He smiled. “Good… Now go get Y/N a bandaid okay? You remember where they are?” “Yeah!” Jason ran off to the bathroom upstairs.
Michael watched Jason leave, and walked back into the kitchen where you sucked on your finger, staring out the window. Michael wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing his body against yours, lips pressing against the back of your neck. “Michael, Jason’s gonna—“ A low, guttural sound left his throat, silencing you. “Ew!” Jason cried out from the doorway. Michael rolled his eyes, “shut up, Jason.” You laughed, pushing Michael away, walking over to Jason. “Thank you, Jason.” You smiled, taking the bandaid from his hands. “Welcome…” He mumbled, glaring at Michael. Michael lunged forward at him, spooking him away. Jason screamed, running off to some part of the house. “You’re cruel.” You laughed, shaking your head. “He likes it.” Michael replied.
Weeks went by and you and Michael continued to grow closer. You opened up his mind to new things. He found life unbearable when you weren’t around. “You remind me of the sun…” Michael whispered. The two of you were sitting outside of the farm house on a blanket, watching the sunset. Jason was out in the field, chasing down bugs for his spider. “Why is that?” You whispered, looking up at him, smiling. “You’re just so… Happy. Bright. You’re…” Michael grunted, finding it hard to speak all of the sudden. “Come on, you can say it.” You giggled. “The light of my life…” He mumbled, looking away from you in embarrassment. “Awww… I think that’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said… Ever.” You smiled, nudging him.
Michael glared at you, regretting saying anything. “Can I ask you something?” You asked softly, twirling a flower in between your fingers. “Yeah, what?” Michael replied. “What happened to your eye?” Michael froze. He didn’t expect that type of question. “Uh… I got in a fight.” He chuckled. “A fight..? What happ—“ “Let’s just leave it at that.” He sighed. You were silent for a few moments, before you got fed up. “No, you’ve been keeping so many secrets from me the past few weeks we’ve been talking… If i’m going to stick around, I deserve to know. I’m tired of the lies.” You grabbed his face, making him face you.
Michael didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want this day to come. He didn’t want to have to tell you everything he’s done and had to hide from you. He thought he was doing good and you’d never ask. Perhaps him avoiding questions wasn’t working well enough. “Micha—“ “I kill people.” Michael went silent, looking away from you. A good thirty seconds went by before you spoke up, “I know.” You know? You know?! “W-What?” Michael stuttered, turning to stare at you in shock. “I’ve known since the day I met you. I just wanted you to admit it to me.” You chuckled, “I-I love you. Who you are and what you do doesn’t change that. You have a kind soul… I see it when you’re with Jason.”
“No I don’t…” Michael mumbled, looking over at his brother play. “You killed them for Jason. Am I wrong? They hurt him. So you took care of it.” How did you know this? Michael turned to look at you again, confused. “When you were being a creepy stalker all that time ago and Jason came up to me he might’ve spilled a few things…” You chuckled, “Killing for someone like him… Isn’t wrong. It seems right. Ridding people who don’t understand…” If Michael could be any more in love with you he would. He was mad at Jason for not keeping the secret, but… He did him a favor. Michael didn’t say anything, smashing his lips to yours, crawling on top of you. He found the one. You were his sun.
You think It’s humiliating that JJC knows ya’ll are fucking thirsty??? Wait till Jamie Lee Curtis finds out about this shit and sends all of us to horny jail
i had a bit of fun writing this, i really hope you guys like it :). pls read this on my archive if you’d like to see the finalised/edited version of this chapter (that includes the italics!! :o). as you guys know, my archive account is luffys. i hope you enjoy!! *let me know if there are errors or it copied weird*
-Michael Myers x Reader-
-smut/nsfw-
Two years ago.
Two years of facing absolute agony, guilt, shame, and want with every waking moment.
Not only that, but it was real- that man, Michael Myers. Thanks to the television switching to the news, telling you all the horrific things he had done. To this day, you feel an empty pit in your stomach, yearning for something, someone, to fill it. You didn't want it to be him.
It didn't feel real, though. It felt as you had a poltergeist, a disturbance that wouldn't stop following after you. If it wasn't the man himself, you'd be constantly reminded of him, again, thanks to the television and small townspeople.
You didn't blame them- if you were normal, you'd probably join in on the gossip, talking about how horrible his acts of crime were; and not checking the calendars eager for that date to show up again.
Whenever it had neared autumn, the television would often ramble on and on about Michael Myers, but worse, his victims. How many were due to your kitchen knife? How many were due to him resting up at your home? You opted to watch colourful cartoons to ease your racked brain instead.
Your semblance melted as your pure attention was on the television, the animation feeding your feeble and broken mind. You giggled when you saw the main character get crushed by a random boulder- only to get up again instantaneously. Things like these made you somewhat forget.
Somewhat.
Switching to a rather risqué perfume ad, your stature stiffened, watching the perfect man and woman on the screen get closer, and closer, until their bodies meshed together into a tangled mess. The man ran his long and skinny fingers up the woman's body, catching on her skimpy bikini. Perfect pearly white smiles on the tanned pair as they somehow got closer to one another. Then (forgetting it was an ad), it suddenly cut to the fragrance box, which was insanely overpriced.
You pictured him touching you like that, delicate and frail touches, arching into him and whispering his name with pure want. You felt a familiar wetness in between your legs that you've been unable to sate.
You tried to will away the uncomfortable sensation leaking from you, but you couldn't. Not feeling like another inefficacious attempt with the vibrator (that was probably dead anyway).
You thought of having a couple of flings with random men to take your mind elsewhere. However, whenever you had gotten too close to sex, you would suddenly call it off, pulling your clothes on and ditching the situation hurriedly.
Not knowing why, you felt a sense of infidelity while in lip lock with another man. It felt gross, not being able to pursue a normal relationship, saving yourself for a man who kills. You briefly wondered if he had done the same for you.
Feeling a wave of exhaustion ripple over you, rising from the couch with a quick stretch, you turned the television off and went to your bedroom. Another boring day of home and work done, you couldn't wait to do the same thing tomorrow!
•
The day came and went, grabbing your bag and ready to leave work. You had a ghost of a smile on your face, it was nearing Halloween. Just a small whisper of the holiday made you drunk full of giddiness, shoving all other feelings down.
Finding your keys in the abyss you called a purse, you clocked out and began your chilled walk to your car. Before you could get out of the automatic doors, however, you felt a light tug on your wrist.
Slightly surprised, you turned to view a coworker. You really didn't talk to him much, you remembered buying him a snack from the vending machine, feeling pity he had nothing to eat.
"Hey! We're going to go have some fun on Halloween, and I wondered if you," He paused, chewing on the inside of his cheek, "if you wanted, you could come with us? I'll text you the name of the place." You stood, feet aching in the stilettos you donned, you tried to ignore the throbbing feeling.
You froze, stuck contemplating his offering. While it sounded somewhat fun to get totally shit-faced, part of you didn't want to go anywhere. Especially on Halloween...
"Sure," You mumbled, faking a cutesy smile and walking away. You heard him yell a hushed 'yes!', sighing while you fumbled with the keys to your car.
You still had the absolute shit-box that was your beloved car. While it was responsible for you not being able to get away that night (not wanting to blame yourself, obviously), you didn't have enough cash to get a new one, opting to get it fixed, instead. It ran like a dream (nightmare), and you only had a few instances where it would stall for a moment.
Checking your phone, you noticed the small text below the time. It had been exactly two years since he'd come visit you. Two years ago, on this very date. You would've thought that seeing the day, the few days before Halloween, would've made you shake and vomit, and cry.
But it didn't.
•
Turning the key to your house, your demeanour becoming soured once you realised that your door, was indeed, still locked. Maybe it'd be a good thing to go to that party, after all. You didn't like the fact that your mind was becoming hardwired towards him, but the constant reminders didn't help much in preventing those thoughts run rampant, either.
Same house, same car, same life.
Hand hovering over the lock, you decided to leave it upturned, an invitation to him, and you couldn't help but yearn for him to show.
Feeling only slightly disgusted with your choice to leave your doors unlocked, you kicked your shoes off, throwing your purse onto the couch. You plucked your keys from your pocket, carefully placing them into a small drawer. You were still unorganised, but you had your priorities.
Lazily walking up the stairs and into your bedroom, you changed into some old pyjamas, pulling your dress-pants lower, halting when you saw the scar that he made on your thigh. Your fingers gently traced it, long, somewhat jagged, it healed nicely. Leaving an extended and discoloured mark on your smooth skin.
His mark. Was that it? That night, he had made too many marks on you, the most impressionable one being your insides. He marked you so deep, you could never see, nor remove it, ever. Lifting your shirt slightly to check your abdomen, you smoothed over the paper thin scar he left there, too. Had he wanted to claim you and mark you as his?
Or maybe he just wanted to kill you.
You groaned as you dove headfirst into your plush bed, laying on your stomach while scrolling through social media. Your friends posted some photos of them smiling, wearing Halloween costumes. The caption was all too sweet, making you migrate off the app, and switching to a match-three game.
Your eye twitched in response to the blinding colours displayed in front of you, reaching a ridiculously high level in just a few hours. You had no idea how time passed so quickly while on that 'game', but you felt exhausted.
Turning to your side and throwing the comforter over your tired body, you were about to drift off to bed- hearing a loud chime come from your phone instead. You grabbed the device, turning it on silent so you could sleep unperturbed. But, your eyes caught on a small notification, a message. You weren't expecting anyone to message you, maybe it was your friend?
God, it was your coworker.
You were still scrutinising over the choice on whether to go or not, but, thinking about how you spent the last Halloween, holed up and refusing to go anywhere, you ultimately decided that you would go. Even if you really did not want to.
The text read an address, a bar, or was it a club? You were too tired to decipher the difference. It also read a time, with a small 'see you there!' attached to the end of the text.
Now, you had to go.
•
A few days went by quickly, you encountered your coworker (whose name you could not, for the life of you, remember) a few times, he went on and on about how happy he was that you were going to come with him and his group of friends. You responded politely, too afraid to tell him you really didn't want to go.
You had even seen him at the end of your shift, how cruel it was to work on Halloween day.
"Excited for tonight? I sure am, this is the only thing Halloween is good for! Getting drunk, loose, ya know? I am so-" You tuned him out, nodding robotically to whatever he had said. Looking lower to his oddly small hands (or maybe everyone else's hands looked small compared to his), you noticed a ring, an absurdly shiny band laying on his ring finger. He was married..? So, why was he inviting you?
Pity.
Just then, you realised it had been pity. He had felt bad for you, going to work, then home, then the entire thing all over again. You had a group of friends to talk to here, but all you did was listen to them gossip and ramble, never really pitching in with anything yourself.
Maybe they were the ones who put him up to this, they knew you'd probably decline if the invitation came from them.
"Yeah, I'll see you later, okay?" You interrupted him, his mouth hanging open slightly, like he was going to continue on and on about whatever it was he said for eternity.
If your friends wanted you to go out, oh, you'd go, alright. You decided then and there, that you were going to pick the most obscene outfit that night. You wanted to turn heads, you wanted absolutely nobody to recognise you, you wanted to forget who you were.
But, just for tonight, it is Halloween, after all.
•
Looking in your mirror, you took a loose strand of hair and curled it behind your ear. Maybe this was too obscene... The slutty nun outfit was far too outdone, but you figured it was the cheapest thing at the store, and you didn't want to break the bank for Halloween.
You smoothed over the headdress, tugging at the fishnet stockings that covered most of your thighs, squishing what it didn't cover.
Too lazy to put a full face of makeup on, you decided that your outfit would capture most of the attention, rather than your face. You were fine with that, since you had purple rings running around your eyes that took too much concealer to cover.
Grabbing your coat and keys, you left with your small handbag. Shutting the door behind you, pausing with the key in the lock, this time, you turned the key, hearing the normal 'click' of the door.
The gray skies turned into the blackest of black, small bright specks of stars decorating the night. The moon lay absolutely still, igniting the darkness it was surrounded in. You never really took the chance to look at the sky, oblivious to its true and ultimate beauty.
Opening your car door and sitting in the drivers seat, you drummed your fingers over the steering wheel, staring at your front door. A small part of you wished he'd be there, waiting for you at home.
Driving to the location your coworker sent you, your hand hovered over the radio, deciding against it. Sometimes silence was a true blessing.
The roads were surprisingly empty, and you couldn't help but blame the curse of a man who ended many. You felt sick to your stomach, your mind and body constantly flip-flopping towards lust, or any true feelings. It was so fucking confusing, you really needed to address that what happened that night was seriously fucked up. Nothing he had done was normal, but you couldn't help but long for him.
Lost to your musing, you pulled into the packed parking lot and struggled with finding a free space. To your chagrin, the spot you snagged was pretty far away from the club. You shouldn't have worn heels.
Burrowing into the soft and worn material of your coat, you walked towards the entrance, bright lights seeping from the dark tinted windows. The cold air stung the open skin you showed, it's claws sinking into whatever it could touch.
Pushing past the door and into the sea of people, you audibly sighed, the warm air relaxing your tense nerves. You shed your coat, tucking it under your arm, going off to find your friends.
Being snug against every person in the inadequately spaced room was pretty unpleasant, bumping against too many to count. A particularly hard shove brought your arm extending, catching your fall, but grabbing onto someone's garment. Apologising profusely, you looked up at the man you grabbed.
Ice filled your veins, you swore your heart stopped.
It couldn't be real, he couldn't be here, could he?
Your mouth hung open as your legs bowed, you would've stumbled if it wasn't for the wall of people holding you up.
"Oh shit, you okay?"
Who-? You looked up at the man, same ghastly mask, same coveralls.
But it wasn't him.
It wasn't him, dear God, what the hell is wrong with you..? It was Halloween, of course people would dress up as Myers. Why wouldn't they?
"I'm fine, sorry. I should've watched where I was going." You sighed, securing your coat under your arm better.
He looked at you for a while longer than he should've, making you feel slightly uneasy.
Mumbling another apology, you snaked your way through the infinite chasm of people, trying to get to the bartender. You weren't ever doing this shit again, especially on a holiday night.
Grinning as you saw one open stool, you slid into the spot quickly, seeing a bothered expression on another woman who wanted your spot. You had an urge to stick your tongue out at her like a five year old.
The bartender asked what you'd like, you were about to ask for a plain margarita, but you remembered that you'd be driving home. Grumbling in annoyance, you asked for a water.
Coughing up some money for a small plastic cup full of water, which was made majority of ice, you sipped from the cup gradually, the cool feeling numbing your throat.
Scrolling through your phone, face full of boredom, you were about to leave until you felt a hand on your shoulder, clad in black and white finger bones. A skeleton, how cute.
Viewing your friends behind your slouched figure, your spine straightened as you smiled sheepishly. You greeted them all, complementing their costumes. You quickly became embarrassed noticing you were the one showing the most skin.
"Well, hello sister." A man seemingly appeared next to you, interrupting your conversation with your friends. You rose a brow, about to tell him off. But, the looks on your friends faces screamed 'do it!'. You wanted to go home.
"Hello..." You nervously mumbled, the man getting too close to you. You stood, full intent on moving closer to your group of friends, miniskirt riding too far up, showing the bottom of your ass. Not realising you were giving this guy a full view, his arm stretched around you, pulling you to him. You grimaced, not hiding how discombobulated you were at how quick the situation escalated.
He pulled you closer to him, his demeanour soaked full of alcohol and bad choices. His hand wandered lower, one resting on your hip as you winced away from his touch. "What..?" He asked, leaning closer to you, lips ghosting the shell of your ear. You recoiled away from him, his grip on you tightening.
Your throat dried as your palms glistened with a thin sheet of sweat. You wanted to push this man away, grab your things and run to your car. This entire idea was moronic, you craved to be on your couch, watching silly cartoons.
His eyes glistened with salacious intent, eyes glued to your breasts. His eyes were glossed over with a curtain of drunkenness, no doubt lost to the many drinks he had.
Your hand moved to his shoulder, trying to push him away from you. He leaned into your touch, letting you see behind his build.
Your mind and body couldn't help but go into fight-or-flight, seeing another Myers costume. You had no idea that dressing as such a notorious murderer was a marketable and fashionable thing to do in Haddonfield. While you didn't want to judge, it did make you slightly overwrought.
Especially uneasy with how this guy, who was clothed in the usual and well known dark coveralls and melted mask, his eyes seemed riveted towards your figure. Your memory wasn't in tiptop shape, but it seemed exactly like how he had looked at you two years ago. However, with such a scandalous outfit, you expected stares, so you shook it off.
You tried to, at least.
There was something about how this guy was looking at you, with ill intent behind that glint in his eye. He was too far away from you to get a good look at him, but the feeling he provided had you shuddering.
The man holding you just, froze, out of nowhere. You found it odd, but at least now you could slip out of his grasp. You squeezed and bent your way through the large crowd, making your way back to the bartender. Your friends were still there, chatting and giggling to one another, holding fancy and vivid drinks.
After telling them you wanted to leave, they expressed their 'sadness' as best as they could. Which wasn't really good, since they were already tipsy.
•
Happy that you were back in your driveway, and somewhat disappointed that you couldn't have a normal hookup with anyone, you grabbed your purse and readied your keys.
Hurrying to the front of your house, you gasped quietly at the state of your door. It looked like it had been blown open, the hinges still wobbling back and forth, hanging on desperately.
Turn around, run to your car. Run away, it's not like last time.
It wasn't like last time, no. Last time, he hadn't wanted to make his presence known, he had slipped in your house like an expert thief, having a single target- you.
Listening to logic and ignoring the fire in your belly screaming at you to go to him, you rushed to your car, not even able to step down a single stair as you felt his familiar touch over your ribcage, yanking you back against him.
You were flush against his barrelling figure, your pupils digesting your irises instantly. Trepidation bubbled deep in you, and while you had longed for him to return, your mind replayed the events through rose-coloured glasses, not remembering how terrifying he was.
Here he was, here was the reminder.
His hands squeezed your thoracic even harder, you buzzed in pain, waiting to hear the loud snap of a broken rib.
You looked lower, his large, bloodied hands encircled your entire figure. Thick and strong fingers tensing and squeezing you periodically. It's like he was lost in thought, on whether or not to break you. You painfully acknowledged how his hands were caked in blood, other bruises exploding into deep reds and purples along his knuckles.
You'd probably hear about the victims on the news later.
He hadn't held you, he hadn't grabbed you with such fervour and want.
Not like this, God, no.
But, how did you expect it to go? Like normal? An absolutely ordinary situation between lovers? He was most likely back to end the one thing that had slipped his grasp, you.
He turned you towards your destroyed door, the wood dividing into sharp splinters and shattered glass over the carpet. Letting go of you, losing the intense furnace that was behind you, fuelled by those who he had killed, pumping out hellfire.
You couldn't go, he was blocking your way, and even if you did leave, he'd find you. He would always find you.
Two years later, he knew where you stayed, he knew where you'd flee.
Turning around to view him, it's like he got bigger. You didn't think it was possible, you didn't want it to be possible, either. You swallowed, the saliva feeling like glue, choking you on its way down.
You knew that he killed tonight, for he had the scent of death and the souls of those who had been wronged as an aura.
If he had killed people, that would mean he was hurt, right?
"I learned first aid. In case," You choked back a sob, "I thought that maybe you'd come back." You reached to unzip his coveralls, new blemishes staining the fabric, no amount of detergent or bleach would get that out. Maybe he liked it, a reminder of what he does.
He seized your hand, hearing you whimper, testing the carpal bones while feeling them slip from its usual place, letting it pop back into place. He let go of your wrist, you noticed a faint purple halo around where his grasp was.
You felt a gust of cool, unforgiving wind pass through you. It served as a pinch to your reality, you denied to believe that this was actually real, and definitely happening. A shiver traveling down your spine, you wished he didn't have to break your door down.
Thankfully, the screen door was still slightly in place, you'd lock it later, too afraid to make a move close to the door. You didn't want to give the impression you were trying to leave again.
You slowly walked over to your couch, hearing thudding footsteps behind you, sitting on the corner seat. He sat not far from you, feeling the cushion sink and squeak in return to such a weight being put on it.
"I need to get some bandages." You got up, carefully, walking up the stairs hurriedly. You felt his prickly stare behind you, making you feel ill.
You remembered how you had left two years prior, your car failing you. However, your car was in better condition, you idled in the bathroom, thinking about how you'd get your keys. You knew where they were, but leaving was a intimidating decision. He had already seemed angered about something, and trying to run away from him seemed idiotic.
Lost in thought, you glanced up at the mirror, feeling utter terror when you saw him directly behind you. How had he been so silent..? It should be psychically improper for such a sizeable person as he to move so quietly.
Trying to ignore him, it seemed he just came to check if you were indeed, telling the truth. You kneeled to the lower cabinet, unfastening it's latches. Grabbing the small red bag chock-full of bandages, cotton balls, antiseptic substances, and other commodities that would help him, you tried to get up, knees aching due to the hard tile of the restroom.
However, it seemed he wanted you to stay in this position, lacing his fingers through your hair and pushing you back down. You whimpered, feeling like a timorous rodent. The miasma of death swamped your nostrils, causing you to involuntarily hold your breath.
You looked up into those abyssal and terrifying eyes, inculcating unfiltered fear and dread into you. His body was an unmoving wall of muscle, there was no way you could resist the heavy hand that rest atop your head. You didn't know what he had wanted, you offered to clean his wounds, actually learning just for him.
His own hand moved from his side, raising to the top of his jumpsuit. You watched his hand clasp around the small zipper, pulling it lower. Deliberately, and too fucking slow, it was like he wanted to torture you.
You knew he wanted you to squirm.
Instead of lacking any clothing underneath his impressive model, he had a black shirt that wrapped around every dip and curve of his muscles. Other clothing really had looked good on him.
Your hands opened and closed into tight fists, a nervous tepid sweat formed on the back of your neck. Looking down onto the checkered floor, you couldn't bring yourself to look at him anymore.
You felt a rough tug on your hair, causing your neck to crane up at him. He had wanted eye contact, you swallowed thickly.
There was something definite that was tweaked from his personality from when you encountered him years ago. He was angered, yes, but in a calm and collected façade. He had done things to hurt you, but in a way that forced you to be closer to him. You noticed this quickly, and you found it obligatory to find out why.
And the eye contact, it was screaming 'look at me, only me'.
You put the pieces together instantly after that.
It was him at the club, there had been respectable doppelgängers, but the one who singed your very insides had to be him. He'd seen that drunken fool hold you close and try to make a move on you. You cursed your friends. Maybe it had been the reason why you couldn't bed any other man, had he seen you..?
"Michael," You gasped, his name feeling foreign and so wanted on your tongue. Your hands flew to his clothed thighs, bunching the fabric.
"Only you, I swear, fuck," You worried your lip, throat throbbing in a want to cry and scream forgive me, please. I'm sorry, I wanted to wait for you, I’m weak.
"I waited for you. I didn't leave," You trailed off, somewhat gesturing to yourself. He didn't seem remotely phased, you thought talking to him at this point had been futile.
You needed to prove that you were a good little girl who was perfectly capable of waiting for her 'lover'. However, being caught kissing and feeling up another man did not help your plight.
Being caught, God, you made it sound like you had cheated on him. You had wanted to move on, detach yourself from him, from evil. But you unquestionably couldn't go all the way. You felt an imperceptible force grab and yank you back.
"I didn't think you'd ever come back..." You sniffed, knuckles igniting a burning white at your grip on his coveralls. You were definitely making the predicament worse for yourself with every word that spilled from your quivering lips. You couldn't stop, you wanted to reassure him that you didn't mean to, it was just a mistake.
Pressing your eyes shut, you wanted to cry. Cry and scream and yell that you were so, so sorry. Another yank at your hair had your eyes popping open, face-to-face with the impressive bulge underneath his coveralls.
He continued to move his hand lower, the noise of the zipper driving you up the walls. Finally revealing dark sweatpants stained and tainted with blood, in the back of your mind, you questioned where he was getting these clothes from.
He pulled the neat bow of the drawstring, tugging and pulling at the material until it pooled at his heavy boots. He was moving so leisurely, forcing you to watch every motion he made.
You wet your lips, tasting the faint strawberry that flavoured them. At last, he shed the last layer of clothing until his cock sprung free, and fuck, he really did get bigger, all of him.
Both of his hands rested on your cheekbones, slightly guiding you onto his erect cock. You slightly opened your mouth, drooling at the chance to closely admire his cock. You traced the prominent veins with your eyes, watching it throb in response to the crisp air.
He forced your mouth open wider, and you found no drawback doing so. Pushing himself into your warm mouth. Your tongue lay flat against the swollen head, pressing against the slit. You tasted a salty fluid land on your muscle, swallowing it as best as you could (it was difficult with such a big thing in your mouth).
The hands at your zygoma pushed harder, fearing that they'd would break under his powerful touch. You winced as you unhinged further, feeling his hot length slide past your uvula, triggering your gag reflex. Your throat squeezed and sucked him further, your nails burrowing into this thighs. You watched the skin sink under the claws that dug into him.
He was breaking you open. Taunting you with his stare, pushing his cock deeper into your throat, moulding and forming around him, swallowing him as deeply as you could. He didn't want to see any barriers, pushing and forcing your skull into him.
He was going to kill you. Here he was, relentless and focused on how your breathing was unstable. You weren't able to adapt to such a situation so quickly, his cock spreading your throat.
Your throat continued to constrict and spasm around him, instinct trying to push him out. He responded to this by shoving himself deeper, stuffing your mouth full of him.
Finally able to breathe through your nose (barely), you were finally able to feel how heavy and scalding he was in your mouth. It made your clit pulsate with want, tempted to reach down and finally please yourself. You hadn't felt so aroused since he had 'visited'.
You felt him slide deeper, no, you couldn't. You couldn't take him any more, your throat distending full of him. You grabbed what couldn't fit (a lot), and started to gently move in a familiar rhythm. Hopefully you were able to please him with your hands with what you wouldn't dare be able to fit inside.
Continuing to pump him steadily and feel his cock-head slide deeper into your throat, you felt him twitch inside. Finally, your throat was so sore and utterly raw, you don't think you could speak.
He pushed your head down lower, making you gag, and squeezing him further. Viscous ropes of thick cum shot down your throat, coating and painting the inside of your throat.
You let go him with a gross 'pop', a string of saliva and his release connecting his tip and your lips. You leaned in and wrapped your lips snuggly around the sensitive and engorged head, swirling your tongue around him. You wanted to show him how good you are, aspiring to showcase your functionalities (of pleasure and first aid).
He was unmoving, not showing how the overshot nerves were impacting him. Maybe it didn't, maybe he couldn't feel any sort of pain.
Your eyes were glazed over with lascivious want as you released his still erect cock, hopefully showing how badly you needed him.
Your knee pain was gnawing at you to get on your feet, looking at him with a hope of approval, you started to rise slowly. Your back was against his hard chest, your features melted away as you stared into the mirror. You didn't want to focus on how you probably looked like shit.
His grip trailed up to your throat, pulse speeding up under his threatening hand. Hand nearly able to encircle around the entirety of your neck, he lay it there, unmoving as he. It still felt like he was deep in your mouth, throat throbbing and aching uncomfortably.
You turned to view him, pushing you into the sink and wedging your legs apart with a single muscular thigh. You swallowed a moan, hands scrambling against his tricep, your head resting in the crook between his neck and shoulder.
You didn't hear it, blood pressure ringing highly in your ears. It was impossible to hear, to see in the mass of his being. You couldn't perceive the quiet sound of latex rising.
But you felt it.
A mark near where your head rest on him, too close to your neck. A pair of sharp teeth, row, after row, tearing the skin as you shrieked in agony. Your nails pushed into his skin once more, crying when you felt his canines break the thin layer of skin. He was latched onto you, not letting go. The two of you were still, chest rising rapidly as you were unable to register what you were feeling. Crimson leaked, not being able to get far from his soothing tongue. You were able to perceive the feeling of his tongue on you, though.
It seemed as he had enough, securing his mask back on and dropping you against the counter of the sink. You whined as you had half a mind to ask him not to leave.
You felt your blood flow down your clavicle, too lost in what had happened to care about how it'd stain your Halloween costume.
He fixed his appearance, all while his eyes were on you. Or rather, the new mark he had made. Like a child who had slobbered all over their new toy, he labeled you as, 'this belongs to me'.
You didn't have a problem with that, as sick as it had made you feel.
Staring back at him, your heart ached when he turned to leave. You wanted to grab him, tell him to stay with you, tell him not to kill anymore innocents.
It was Halloween, you knew that's when he had committed most of his atrocities. You knew you couldn't convince him, as nothing more than a cock-sleeve, to not do what he was hardwired to do.
Knowing that you were alone, your fingers brushed against the concave ring of teeth that would be on you forever. You grew disgustingly giddy at the thought that it could be showcased to every individual who lay eyes on you.
The hazy and foggy hold he had on you began to evaporate, your mind telling you to run. Pack your things and go, while he was still gone. You could stay with your friend for a while.
What would happen if he had found you?
You had no tribulations knowing the fact that he'd probably kill your friends for harbouring you from him... He'd probably hurt you like he'd done tonight, believing that your trust to him had been severed further.
You decided to wait for him, because you knew that he'd come back.
gummygunk
blakekathryn
germansingergirl
