You try to get yourself to call out his name but you can't. Your chest is tight with fear and your bottom lip quivers. You retreat back upstairs to the living room, swiping your yellow mask from its place and slipping it onto your head. It calms you as if it's a security blanket, the smell of the glue overwhelming you in the best way possible. You return to the top of the stairs, one step at a time until you reach the bottom. It's dark, but you don't dare flick on the light in case you disturb Michael.
"Hey, Michael?" you whisper out, trying to keep the tremble from your voice as you venture into the shadows. You trace the side of the mask with your index finger, the rough texture soothing you and eradicating any spiders of fear in your mind. "I want to apologize." You hear a shuffling sound in the back of the basement, spotting the tiniest flicker of movement and turning towards it. You opened the bag holding the knife and the donut, pulling out the donut first and extending it to the shadows. "I got you a donut. Something else, too. I've been battling with lots of emotions recently and I was just a little off this morning." Michael emerges from the shadows, wearing the mask that matched yours.
He tilted his head, examining the food you had offered. He gently picked it up and brought it to his face, seeming to inhale it's sweet scent. You reach back into your bag, hand tightening around the wrapped box and pulling it out as well. "There's this, too. I'm really sorry." you extend the box and Michael tilts his head again. He set the donut down on a generally dust-free dresser, taking the box from you. The twine was off in seconds, as was the wrapping paper, leaving a simple white box. He removed the lid and pulled out the styrofoam covering the gift. Once that was gone, he was left admiring a shiny, brand new silver blade engraved with crashing waves with a strong, dark ebony handle. This was the ultimate show of trust. You were vulnerable yet you had just gifted a sharp, deadly blade to a serial killer. You had nowhere to run and could see next to nothing. Michael lifted the blade, but you trusted him not to hurt you. He swung it down, but you didn't wince as it whooshed through the air. It skimmed in front of your face though Michael made sure it didn't come too close. He swung again, testing how it felt and seeming to like it. After a moment, he turned his attention back to you. "Do you... like it?" your voice is quiet as you speak, and you shift to look at the ground. You hear him walking towards you, and then a hand is under your chin, tilting your head up so your eyes meet his. He nods.
"Again, I'm really sorry for how I acted this morning." Michael shakes his head, then takes in a deep breath, letting it out shakily. His blue eyes are stunning, lighter than you think they were before. He leans forwards, towards you, so close you have to close your eyes, and he does too as his forehead pressed against yours. You can hear his even breathing, though it suddenly hitches, then stops completely. It's let back out in a whisper so quiet you don't hear it the first time. The second time is much more audible.
"Sorry... for... what?" Michael's voice is just like you'd have imagined it. It's rough and deep like sandpaper, sending a shiver up your spine as his breath puffs out against your chin and neck. You chuckle and have to pull away, to see those eyes you love so much. They're absolutely dazzling.
"You... you talked..." your words are no more than a breath, matching his tone as if anything louder would scare him back into silence. Michael nods again and you're afraid you've done just what you feared when he speaks again.
"S-Sorry for... what?" his voice shakes, unused and hoarse.
"Being so... weird this morning. Staring and stuff. It was rude." you're still quiet as you lose yourself in his ocean eyes, blue like the waves on his blade would be. You hear a light chuckle and it melts your heart, a stunning sound to match a stunning person. You want to see his face. His voice has to be enough for now.
"Why were you... so weird?" he chuckles again, the hand moving from your chin to rest on your cheek. You place your hand on top of his as his thumb shifts to rub circles in your skin. You take a deep, shaky breath and avert your gaze, but a tap from his thumb on your cheek signifies he wants it back.
"I-I..." you breathe out, unable to find the words. You swallow hard, and take another shaky gulp of air. Just get it out. He'll get it out of you one way or another, you're sure. "I... like you. A lot." you wince at your own words, how childish they sound, as if you're an elementary school student confessing to some pigtail-pulling snot-nosed boy who knows nothing about the world of love.
Michael's blue eyes shift, filling with confusion before realization sets in. His breathing stays slow and even, how you aren't sure because you're next to hyperventilating so fast you pass out; you're pushed even further towards unconsciousness as he grips the base of your mask with his knife-wielding hand, the blade having been set on the dresser with the pastry. He lifted your mask so it sat on top of your head, the thumb belonging to the hand on your cheek tracing gently over your slightly-parted lips. Michael's free hand then moved to his own mask, shaking as it gripped the bottom. He hesitated, before lifting it to reveal his mouth, his stubbled chin, the base of the scar on his eye. You felt light-headed as gravity pulled you to one another, treating the two of you like magnets. Your lips connect. The kiss you share is deep and passionate, the both of you moving together, clicking together like pieces of a puzzle, like two halves of a whole. Michael's other hand shifted to rest on your lower back, pulling you closer so you were flush against his chest. Your arms rested behind his neck, one hand tangled in his curly dark hair, the other pressing him closer to you. You never wanted this to end, but like all things it had to, your lungs crying out for air. You part with a gasp, eyes reconnecting for a second before he leaned towards you again, forehead pressed to yours once more.
"I like you too." his voice is firm and definite, like he was stating a fact. He wasn't scared like you were, at least you couldn't see that he was.
You smile, breathing heavily. You separate once more before he pulls you close in a gentle embrace. You cling onto him for dear life, head rested just below his chin. He was tall, and sturdy, and you thought back to the days before, the first encounter when you'd been so scared of him when now you couldn't get enough of his looks and his breathing and his little head tilt. You let out a squeal as you're swept off your feet, an arm underneath your knees, the other on your back holding you tightly to Michael's chest. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and buried your unmasked face in the crook of his neck as he made his way upstairs. You breathed in his scent, feeling safer than ever despite being in the arms of a killer. He seated himself on the couch, still holding you close. He shifted so your mask was settled back over your face, skimming your paper-mache cheek with the back of his hand before tilting his head, then removing it completely. Michael leaned close to your ear, the paper-mache of his mask ghosting the skin and making you shiver only to repeat the action as his breath puffed against your neck,
"You're prettier without the mask." he breathes, and you can't help but smile, hugging Michael tightly. His arms enveloped you once more and the heat he radiated made your eyes droop. Mixed with the lightheadedness this whole ordeal had caused you, you felt more tired than you had ever before.
Before you drifted off to sleep you wanted to kiss him again. You shifted his mask to show off his mouth, shushing him gently as he tensed from your actions. You were relieved when he relaxed once more, glad you were respecting his boundaries and only revealing his mouth. You lips met his for the second time that night, more passionately than in the basement. Seconds felt like hours or days, but you weren't complaining. His hands settled on your hips, yours resting on his neck just below his ears. What felt like eternity was really only about 10 seconds before you were pulling away for air once more. You replaced his mask to stare into his gorgeous, diamond eyes. You let out a dreamy sigh, drawing a chuckle from Michael once more. The sound made your heart flutter for the hundredth time that night. You cuddle into his chest and he holds you close, placing his chin on your head. You were so, so lucky to have met this man. He was... perfect, in your eyes. Strong yet gentle, handsome and rugged with features that were still so, so soft, with a dark heart that just needed a little saving, and you were there to save it. You swore you heard Michael mutter something along the lines of 'so beautiful', but you were drifting away into sleep before you could be sure. Your dreams were filled with the memory of Michael, of his form, his kiss, his scent, his eyes. You were in a dream world of bliss, and you loved it.
(A/N): I'mnotcryingyourecrying-
Michael is a soft boy and I love him. He's so sweet and I didn't cry writing this totally-
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Unwelcome | Michael Myers x Reader
Fanfiction(Y/N) had a good childhood. She was babied by her wealthy parents, and definitely isn't used to being independent, but she had to leave the nest sooner or later. Now, she's moved to a small, quiet town called Haddonfield, into house the townsfolk ca...
