You wish this was you, huh? ( slasher headcanons & oneshots )

Honey - Candman smut Pt. 1

YALL, I JUST WATCHED CANDYMAN AGAIN FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE 2020 AND OMFG HE IS JUST SOOOOO SEXY

HE'S SO 🧑🏾 🐝 🍯 🪝 🧥 🪞 🌼

(The smut comes next chapter, just be patient)

"Stop worrying so much. He's not even real." Your friend's husband Trevor, rolled his eyes. Yeah, right. You knew what you saw. "Then how do you explain Burnadette's death?" Helen asked her husband with folded arms, her eyes red from tears.

"Damn it, Helen. Your were in the hood. Any of those thugs could've been her killer." Trevor argued. "Don't downplay this as simple gang crime. What kind of "thug" is going around with a hook hand?" You shot. "It was probably just a nearby piece of rubble that he used in the spur of the moment. There is no such thing as Candyman. Daniel Robitaille is a dead man and has been for a long time now." Trevor stated, firm on his words.

"Fuck you." You cursed at him, leaving your friend's apartment.

A year later, 1993, 1:30am

You stood at the mirror, wearing a pair of large men's boxers that you used as pajama shorts, and a loose spaghetti strap shirt that barely fit you. It wasn't an ideal set, but, God, was it comfortable.

Burnadette's death was still fresh on your mind, even after a year passed.
"Candyman isn't real." Trevor's words rang in your head. Yeah, right. Fuck him. You knew what you saw. That man. That very handsome man. With his fresh cut and gorgeous face. Those alluring eyes and irresistible lips. That thick, ankle length fur coa and those shiny black boots. Not to mention that harrowing, twisted hook meant as a substitute for his wrongfully taken right hand. Everyone knew his story.

A smart and ongoing man who was brutally murdered as punishment for getting a white woman pregnant, despite her consent to the affair. His hand was cut right off his hand, leaving him in agonizing pain as they beat him mercilessly, only to be doused in honey while bees stung him to death, and lastly, set on fire.

It was a tale of discrimination and wrongful Bloodshed. Such tales typically lead to one thing. Malevolent spirits. Urban legends to scare children.

"Candyman," You felt a little childish as you said it into the mirror, but your curiosity was piqued. "Candyman," You repeated, anxiety throbbing in your voice. "Candyman, Candyman," goosebumps rose on your skin, sticking up prominently. "Candyman." You said a final time. No reaction. Not a damn thing. Not a flicker, not a flash, just you and the mirror as you looked in the reflection at the gullible idiot known as [Name], feeling ever so embarrassed that it didn't work.

You sighed, turning around and exiting the bathroom. You jump, seeing the man sitting on the edge of your bed, his long fur coat draping to his ankles. "You called, Miss?" He stands up, walking to you as his boots hit against the floors. He placed the hook to your chin, forcing you to look up at him. "Candyman..." Is all you could manage.

"Many call me that, though I'd prefer that you call me Daniel, pretty lady." His other hand drapes down your bare shoulder. You smacked it away.

"What's the matter, don't you miss me, [Name]?" He tilts his head with a petty smirk. "I didn't call you to flirt." You look up with a frown. "Then why did you call? Was it because your friends doubted into thinking you were insane? Told you that you were crazy and making you believe that you never saw the things that where embedded in your memory? Gaslighted you into believing them over your own eyes?" He teases you as you look into his eyes.

"You doubt yourself too much, My love. Always letting others get to your head." He stares you down. Damn, he was tall. And that big coat only made him all the more intimidating. "Believe, [Name]. Believe me, Darling, when I tell you, I'm very real," You watch silently as he waltzes over to the painting on your bedroom wall. A vintage-looking painting of him. You drew it in honour of his story (pretend you can draw) and it had amazing detail. A picture of him in a coffee brown dufflecoat as he stood by a large apple tree, holding a sunflower in his hand as bees surrounded him.

"Hmmm," he hummed to himself as he admired your skill. "I still seem to have both hands in this picture. Tell me," He turns to you. "Do you mind the hook on my arm? Does it... BUG YOU?!" With that, a swarm of bees exit the sleeves of his coat, swarming above you. You close your eyes and cover your ears, grimacing as you balled up. Opening your eyes, you see that they've disappeared, Candyman holding out his hand. Hesitantly, you grab it, rising to your feet.

"I've missed you so much, Darling." He pulls you in, his face mere centimeters away from yours. In an instant, your lips press together, and you feel his soft, warm skin pressing against you. He holds you tightly, not daring to let go, and his touch warm and inviting. The feeling of his face on yours is more than enticing, and he smells of hot honey. It was all so hypnotizing, and it made you feel right at home. Daniel pulled away, and you felt your heart grow aching as the feeling faded.

"Why don't we catch up over a cup of coffee? You can tell me all the things that you've done without me in the past year. I think it would make a great reason to visit you tomorrow." His lips curve into a smile, his flavor still fresh on your lips.

"Do I get another kiss?" You ask, Daniel letting out a throaty chuckle. "Close your eyes, darling." He demands, and you comply, closing them. You feel his soft hand touching your cheek, making a warm sense rush through your cheek and causing you to blush. "Now open." You open your eyes to see that he's no longer there, and you look around cluelessly. Walking back into the bathroom, you look in the mirror, touching your cheek to see a spot of honey on it. You smirk.

"I'll get you for that." you said aloud, rinsing your face. "I'm sure you will, My love." His echo-like voice taunts in the distance.