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MASK OF HATE (CH 3) | Michael x Reader

just when i was finally starting to feel better physically, i tanked mentally :') so i'm sorry it's taken me so long to update. i hope this was worth the wait though! i promise i Do plan to work on other stuff besides just MoH but rn i just. needed to write Michael for a bit

MICHAEL MYERS x FTM!READER (he/him)

SUMMARY: You internally cursed Dr. Loomis for tormenting this man for so, so many years. Embodiment of evil your ass, he was so obviously desperate for love and care that he'd practically thrown himself at you as soon as you'd proven you would love him no matter what. He was more than the traumas he felt compelled to reenact. He was so, so much more and you loved every part of him.

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Halloween in Haddonfield was always a high-strung time for the town.

Ever since the Halloween killings a few years ago, the town had taken a hesitant approach to the holiday. Parents made a point to accompany their kids everywhere or just simply stay home with them. If phones went down or power went out, babysitting teens were told to cross the street and get help, no matter what. Despite the horrors, people still dressed up, still went looking for candy, and still snuck out to make out with their respective partners.

Halloween for you had been quiet. You'd gone to a small costume party with your friends and tried to stay busy. You knew Michael was out working since news of his crimes reached your party, people whispering and gasping at the reported murders coming from the televisions.

You tried not to think about it.

By the time you got home, it was nearly 2am and you were exhausted. As though sensing your arrival, the Boogeyman stepped out of the shadows of your kitchen, bloodstained and breathing heavily. "Busy night?" You'd called to him with a tired smile. He tilted his head in lieu of any response.

With the holiday over, you wondered what Michael would do next. For many nights after, you lay in bed and bore holes in your ceiling as you tried to come up with a plan. Would he leave? Go back to Smith's Grove? Surely he couldn't keep killing, right? There'd be no people left in Haddonfield eventually. But was that the point?

You didn't know. You didn't like not knowing.

But he didn't do any of those things. Instead, he'd sit on your couch and watch television, intrigued by the cartoons, or follow you around the house. If you left, he'd stalk you from a distance just out of sight. He joined you for dinner and movies in front of the television and seemed to enjoy watching horror films when you put them on. You knew him well enough to notice he had a soft spot for The Thing so you tried to put it on as often as possible.

It became the new normal. Domestic and quiet.

Months passed. Fall oranges faded to browns and whites as winter approached. You'd leave out food for Mayhem in hopes he'd come home but you began to lose hope. All you could do now was pray he didn't suffer or that he hadn't been eaten by some other animal.

Michael always watched you when you did this, stood in the doorway of the backdoor while you sat on the narrow steps, hoping your kitty would come home. It might've looked silly to him but he never tried to stop you. You appreciated that.

During all this, he didn't kill anyone. At least, not that you knew of. You tried to avoid the news and, with your dad gone, you didn't have much insider information anymore. Who knows if they were even still looking for him.

So you made a Thanksgiving feast. Michael was familiar with the concept but you knew it had likely been a long time since he'd actually gotten to participate. So you went all out - turkey, mashed potatoes, corn, green bean casserole, gravy, the whole nine yards. The two of you ate together on your couch and watched Charlie Brown episodes, eating your weights in food and falling asleep on opposite ends of the couch.

When you'd woken, you had been taken aback by how peaceful he looked when he slept. Curly hair ruffled from the awkward angle he lay against one of your throw pillows, his face still but not tense. Pretty, you thought to yourself not for the first time.

It was nice. Everything felt perfect.

One afternoon when you'd gotten back from work, you saw Michael masked up and standing on your front porch cradling something wrapped up in an old towel. "What is that?" You gasped, fearing the worse as you hurried closer.

But you broke down into tears, immediately recognizing Mayhem. Cold, trembling, and most certainly sick in so many ways but alive and home. You'd taken him to the vet's office, a sobbing mess in the waiting room. He'd need surgery for his infected wounds and have to be on antibiotics for a long time but you were just relieved he was home and safe now.

Michael never told you how he found him. You didn't ask, just baked him a pumpkin pie as thanks.

November browns turned to December blues as snow and frost began to make appearances. The first snow day, you'd bundled both yourself and Michael up and dragged him outside to see the falling snow. He wore the mask much less now, often leaving the thing in the corner of the closet, hidden away like a bad memory.

You didn't really understand that. Your best theory was that the mask compelled Michael to kill and now that Halloween had come and gone, he was back to some semblance of normal. He still wore masks from time to time - rustic paper mache ones crafted at your kitchen table on quiet afternoons - but significantly less now. Maybe it was just a Halloween thing and he was relatively normal the rest of the year? You weren't sure. Obviously, you knew better than to push about what happened with his sister but you wondered if the killings were a reenactment of the trauma.

Psychology has always interested you.

It wouldn't surprise you if the great Dr. Loomis neglected to acknowledge that Michael was traumatized, quick to demonize him rather than provide him proper care. That he didn't put together Michael went from a normal boy to suddenly completely nonverbal and monotonous after killing her. It had affected him, even if people didn't want to admit that. Michael himself included.

But wearing the classic mask a little less meant you could slip a cute wool hat on his head and drag him out, mitten-clad hands clasped together as you charged outside. "Come see, come see!"

Michael looked up at the falling snow, squinting against the snowflakes that began to freckle his face. You'd laughed and nudged him. "Try this," you said before opening your mouth and letting the snowflakes fall on your tongue.

He'd given you a bewildered look but tried it. Only because he'd grown so fond of you, you assumed.

Days passed. Mayhem made a full recovery and now spent his days lounging in the winter sun. Sometimes he'd brush against Michael for attention and the man had gotten better at returning it, fingers brushing soft black fur occasionally. It was sweet, you thought, how he'd slowly begun to reintegrate into your life.

When you caught him drawing on looseleaf papers, you decided to get him paints and canvases as an early Christmas present and cleared out your dad's old room to let him have an art studio to paint and work on his masks in private. You'd layed down old newspapers to keep the floor relatively clean when you revealed it to him. He'd spend hours up in there, painting or making masks. You'd helped him hang some up on the wall of the room with little thumbtacks as hooks. He was getting good, you'd thought as you examined a bright orange mask that resembled a jack o' lantern.

Michael didn't show you his paintings very often. That wasn't really the point anyways so you didn't mind. But there had been a few times when he'd leave a dried canvas outside your bedroom door or atop your bed like a cat offering dead animals. Your favorite so far was one of the winter sky painted with fluffy whites and cold blues with your own profile looking up at the sky. The way he painted was streaky, like his hands shook, but it was still beautifully detailed despite the messy lines and bleeding colors.

It was interesting seeing yourself through someone else's eyes translated to art. You'd kept the painting in your room and you'd trace your fingers along the raised streaks of paint, fingers running along the lines of your face. You wondered, fleetingly with bright red cheeks, if he painted you often and just never showed you.

There was a chance. You liked to think he did.

It was around the middle of December as you attempted to get ready for a holiday party. Attempted being the key word. “Michael,” you sighed, adjusting your elf hat. “I told you, I’ll be back later tonight. I’ve left dinner in the fridge and I promise I’ll call when I’m coming home.”

It was nearing Christmas when you'd gotten invited to a holiday party. You were attempting to get ready, dressing up as a cute little elf. Attempting being the key word. "Michael," you sighed, adjusting your stupid looking elf hat, "I told you, I'll be back later tonight. I've left dinner in the fridge and I promise I'll call when I'm coming home."

Michael glared at you behind the accursed Halloween mask. He had a habit of being a bit of a brat and you found it equally annoying as you did endearing. He'd put the mask on when he'd learnt you were leaving but you'd expected that. Whenever he was generally stressed out or upset, you'd find it covering his head. The symbolism there wasn't lost on you but you had more pressing things to worry about then the possible metaphor of Michael masking himself literally and figuratively.

"If you're so upset, why not come with?" You snorted to yourself as you focused on doing your eyes in a dark green with white mascara. "I can do your makeup, dress you in a cute sweater, no one would know it's you. Could be fun, yeah?"

You paused to do your lips in a dark red. Makeup wasn't really your preference but it suited the costume you wore - a dark green tunic with red and white striped knee socks with brown boots. The hat was a matching green and jingled stupidly from the little bell on the end. You'd done your face with a heavy blush and had drawn little white snowflakes in liquid eyeliner. It was cute.

The sound of heavy footsteps approaching you had you spinning around. Michael stood directly behind you and tilted his head when you made eye contact. "Wait, are you serious?" You blinked in surprise. You'd gotten good at reading him in the few months you'd spent living together and you could tell he was accepting your offer.

He gave you a blank stare before putting a hand around your neck and squeezing. You noted his tense shoulders and tried to relax. A few months ago, this gesture would have terrified you. Now you knew that it was just his way of expression. A knife and a violent hand was all he could use to convey things so you'd learnt to just roll with it, knowing that his intent wasn't to kill you.

So you didn't panic.

"I'm not making fun!" You insisted, lifting a hand to push lightly at his chest. "I just need to be sure you're actually interested in going. There'll be people there, you know that right?" Silence. "People you can't kill." More silence. "I'm not kidding either, you can't hurt or kill anyone if you come with me." It had been a long time since he'd killed anyone but you could never be totally sure of his motives. He could still be unpredictable from time to time.

Michael let you go and marched towards the dresser. You watched curiously as he fished out a black shirt and black jeans - clothes you'd gotten for him when he couldn't be in the jumpsuit - before offering them with outstretched arms. He gave you a curt nod and you smiled.

He didn't do that often so you knew he was serious.

"Alright then, c'mere big guy," you motioned for him to sit on the bed as you began gathering up makeup supplies. You kept your head turned away as he changed to offer him some semblance of privacy. Growing up in an institution meant he didn't have a lot of shame left but you always felt bad when you thought about that.

You missed the way his hands shook as he took off the mask, too busy searching for a colored contact for his injured eye. You found a pretty jade green and figured that'd work. Heterochromia was uncommon, not unheard of. Some red eyeshadow for his eyes would help cover up the scar and would also be cute for a Rudolph nose. You collected your supplies and turned to Michael with a wide smile.

That smile fell when you saw him sitting on your bed, dressed up nice as he stared at the mask clutched tightly in his hands. He stared into its face with wide, terrified eyes and that made you freeze. You'd seen that look only once before: when you held each other in the bathroom after you'd saved him from being shot.

"You don't have to go." Your voice was soft and reassuring. He looked up at you slowly and you continued. "I know this isn't something you normally do, but-" Michael blinked slowly as you rambled. "I don't want you to feel like you have to do this for me." The last thing you needed was him snapping and killing people at the party. You'd both be in trouble for that.

But you also wondered if he was unfamiliar with being given choices. You never forced Michael into things he didn't want to do and it was possible he wasn't used to that.

He stared at you for a long time, fingernails digging into latex, before he unclenched long enough for the mask to fall to the floor with a soft crunch. The two of you stared at it for a long time and he blinked rapidly as he stared. You could tell by the clenching and unclenching of his jaw that he was fighting something off.

You wanted to make it easier for him.

So you took a seat beside him and reached for his face with slow hands. His flinch made your heart break and you cooed to him softly. "It's just me," you soothed as you clicked open the container with the contact lens inside. "I'd never hurt you."

Michael relaxed slowly, watching you with something storming in his eyes. You cupped his cheek with one hand and his eyes fluttered briefly. "Have you ever put contacts in?" You asked, smiling warmly at him.

He shook his head once. This was going to be tricky.

It took some time to get the contact in. Neither of you really knew what you were doing and you kept worrying it'd roll back to his brain. But, with your combined efforts, it now sat comfortably in his eye. Pretty green-hazel heterochromatic eyes that you fought to not get lost in. Even with the scarring he looked… normal.

"Should I even ask if you've ever worn makeup?" You teased as you took out the eyeshadow. "I'll be brushing your face and around your eyes. Is that okay?"

Michael blinked slowly, which you took as a yes.

"Stop me if it gets to be too much, okay?" You said softly before dabbing the brush in the dark red and swiping it gently over his lids, relieved it covered the scar pretty well.

You weren't sure how familiar people were with his actual face. When people thought of Michael Myers, did they just see the pale, masked face of the Boogeyman? Or did they see his mugshot, televised on the evening news as they reported his escape and recapture?

When you moved to his next eye, his hand shot out to clench your hip tight. He hated feeling vulnerable. You were the only exception to his no touching rule because you'd proven your loyalty. In exchange, he'd given you protection. But he still disliked giving over control and holding you like a stressball was the only thing he could do to abate his anxiety.

You dusted some red on the tip of his nose and smiled to yourself. "So a few of my friends will be there," you hummed as you added the finishing touches on the raccoon-style eyeshadow you'd given him to hide a lot of the scars. Since he was wearing darker clothes, you reached for the black eyeshadow next with the intent of dusting it around his lids to give him a smokier look. It made him a tad intimidating, black soot that petered out into a dark red. "They'll probably try to talk to you but I'll try and take over. If they ask, we'll say you got in a car accident when you were young and haven't been able to talk since."

He gave your hip a squeeze in confirmation.

You brushed some red on the tip of his nose with a hum. "My friend Leslie is the chattiest so at least we won't have to worry about him. He's always rambling on and on about the horror novel he's writing. To his credit, it's really interesting." You began to brush a heavy blush on his cheeks, chuckling at the way he squinted against the sensation. "It's about some boy who was thrown over a waterfall before rising to take revenge on the town? I think? I mean, he'll certainly tell you all about it. I think he's calling it Behind the Mask or something, I'm not sure."

Michael opened his eyes when you finished with the blush and you froze. He looked good and you couldn't help but stare. Tight fitting shirt, half-lidded eyes decorated in smoky colors, and messy brown curls that you made a note to fluff up before you left. He looked painfully normal and pretty and you wanted to-

You cleared your throat and grabbed the white eyeliner pen. "This'll be colder but try not to move." Gently, you held under his chin to keep him steady as you began to dot little freckles along his cheeks and nose, pausing to draw larger snowflakes at the corners of his eyes. That way you two matched!

When you pulled back, you realized he'd been staring at you.

There were a few times in the time of you knowing Michael that you wondered if he could read minds. If, in order to be the scariest thing possible, he knew exactly what scared someone. But, you reminded yourself, this wasn't some Stephen King novel. Still, it unnerved you to consider he knew what you thought of him privately.

"Oh! I know!" You hopped up and hurried back over to your vanity, grabbing a brown headband decorated with felt horns wrapped in tiny bells. They were painfully cute and you spun to show him.

He squinted at you and you giggled. "Trust me, it'll look super cute." Sliding it atop his head, you finally got to fluff his hair out to disguise the band better. When you stepped back, you gave him a once-over and a smile.

Michael fucking Myers dressed up as a reindeer. Cute little nose, horns, and all.

"You think we should use nicknames to be less suspicious?" You hummed, tilting your head - a habit you'd picked up from him. "I could call you Mike." He glared at you and you smiled with a faux-innocence. "Aw, don't like it?" He glared harder and you laughed. "Well, if they ask for your last name, I'm making something up!"

He got up wordlessly and made his way to your vanity, examining himself in the mirror. As expected, he didn't say anything. But he did touch lightly at his eyes, curious when the powder came off on his fingers. You joined him, looking you both over in the mirror. From the outside, you two looked like any normal young couple heading for a Christmas party.

“Well Mikey,” you said as you grabbed your bag, “Shall we?”

You laughed at the slow, unimpressed blink he gave you.

You were honestly impressed Chrissy managed to get so many people to come. She'd been very popular in high school - a cheerleader who'd dated the quarterback of the football team, well-liked, and clearly still riding that high despite graduating out of high school cliques. Chrissy had been a year above you but had always been one of those girls to try and invite everyone she knew to any events she threw. So you weren't exactly close friends but you'd helped her with a school project once and apparently that was enough for her.

The house was decorated to the nines, lined in little white lights that glistened against the freshly fallen snow. Little reindeer animatronics made of the same lights "grazed" in the front yard and little candy cane lights lined the pathway. It all felt a little magical. A small flurry had picked up when you and Michael got out of the car and made your way up to the front door.

Michael paused to look up at the sky while you rang the doorbell, listening to the melodic chimes ring out inside the house. You swore he almost smiled, his hair dusted in little white flakes when he looked down at you. Your heart seized at the sight and you were struck with the urge to k–

Chrissy opened the door, smiling wide and dressed in an inappropriate Mrs Claus outfit. She surveyed you both and let out a surprised gasp, the corners of her mouth curling in delight. "And who's this hottie?" She whispered at you while giggling like a schoolgirl. "I didn't know you knew any cute guys. No offense." She twirled her hair, shamelessly looking Michael up and down.

Jealousy shot through you like a bolt of lightning. "He's my boyfriend."

"Oh," she seemed almost disappointed, which you tried to brush off. She'd always felt a little entitled towards whomever she determined was the most attractive guy. It was just how she was, even if it pissed you off in the moment. "Well, I'm happy for you!" She spun on her heel and led you both into the house, gesturing for her butler to take your coats. "Feel free to mingle, lovebirds! We've got drinks, food, and our chef made a bunch of cookies."

Michael seemed to notice the lovebirds comment and you flushed, giving a nod and smile to Chrissy while trying to ignore his stare boring into the back of your head. "Thanks. Oh, um, here!" You reached into your bag and held out a small, nicely wrapped gift. "For the Secret Santa."

She lit up and took the box enthusiastically. "Ohmygosh, thank you! I was just going to ask." Chrissy added the box to a nearby table and clasped her hands together excitedly. "Alright, perfect, you're free to go!"

You led the way to the kitchen, dodging a few familiar faces with smiles and waves and promises to return once you'd gotten some food and drinks. Michael held your wrist the whole way there, squeezing harder and harder the more people spoke to you.

The kitchen was huge, white, and perfectly pristine. The maid who cleaned everything always made their house look like an interior design catalog rather than an actual home. A large plate of highly elaborate sugar cookies lay atop the countertop, a large amount already missing with only trails of crumbs indicative of their place there.

You grabbed a candy cane shaped cookie and gestured for Michael to grab one. "I think you'll like these." He just stared at you, eyes widened ever so slightly. "What?" You asked through a mouthful of cookie. His head tilted slightly and you swallowed nervously. "Sorry for the, um, boyfriend comment. It just, uh, it felt like a safe alibi, y'know?"

Michael stared at you, eyes calculating. You prepared a million apologies in your head before he reached for a snowman cookie and bit into it, never breaking eye contact. You weren't sure if that was approval or disapproval so you both just stood there, staring awkwardly at each other and eating sugar cookies. Your fingers drummed anxiously on the cold marble tile of the kitchen counter as you tried to stand your ground.

When he finished his, Michael stepped closer to you and placed a hand at your waist. He leant forward and pressed his lips to your forehead, making you gasp in surprise. It wasn't exactly a kiss but the intent was there and the message was clear. You swallowed when he pulled back and you swore his eyes softened. "Okay, okay, cool," you said quietly, trying - and failing - to hold back your smile.

Standing on your tiptoes, you pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek and smirked to yourself about the faint lipstick stain there. You snagged another couple cookies and a glass of cider. His cheeks were a soft pink when you passed him one of the cookies. "Shall we brace the music?" You grinned as you took his arm and led him out the door back into the party.

Everything went perfectly, all things considered. Of course, everyone you knew wanted to meet your new boyfriend. "It's a recent development," you'd say as Michael took a drink to avoid talking. "I met him when my car broke down and we just… hit it off, y'know?" You'd smile as though recounting the memories through your pleasant buzz from the cider.

"How long have you been dating?" You were asked a few times.

"Oh, a month and a half now, I think. It feels like it's been longer." You'd say while Michael chewed on cookies.

It had been, if you thought about when the starting point of your relationship could've been. Maybe not long after he'd gotten sick and you'd cared for him in a way he hadn't had since he was a child. Or maybe after you'd both made a wordless pact to each other while your father lay bleeding on the kitchen floor. Hard to say. But calling him your boyfriend had come so easily that you questioned how long you'd considered him that in your subconscious.

When Chrissy announced her parent's arrival with a few of their friends in tow, you went to greet them without a second thought. You froze in fear when you caught sight of her father: John Kallas. Officer Kallas. A friend of your father's who had been part of the team searching for Michael around Halloween.

You clutched Michael's arm and steered him to a quiet hallway of the house. "Don't let her dad see you," you whisper-yelled. When he tilted his head, you ran a nervous hand through your hair. "He was one of the cops looking for you. He might recognize you."

Michael didn't visibly react but you did notice him clenching his jaw. "I didn't know he'd be here! I hadn't thought of it until I saw him." You sighed, frustrated with your own anxiety rising. "I'm sorry. Do you want to leave?"

He seemed to think it over but you were interrupted by heels clicking on the tile floor. In a panic, you grabbed his wrists and put his hands at your waist. "Act like we were kissing." You whispered as you leant in, bumping your foreheads together.

His head tilted askew slightly and gave you a moment to mess up your lipstick a little. The footsteps came to a halt and you heard a familiar laugh that made all the anxiety in your body melt away in an instant.

Kalei stood with their arms crossed, looking you both over with an amused expression. "So is this the guy you were telling me about back in September?" They laughed at seeing the way you hid your face in your hands in embarrassment.

Michael gave you a quizzical look and you groaned. "Yes, yes, he is." You confessed with an exhausted sigh. "But shh!" You waved a hand at them to try and quiet them.

They didn't back down though. "He would gush about you at work to me all the time," they drawled out, ignoring your flustered protests.

"I didn't-!"

"You better treat him right!" Kalei said, crossing their arms over their chest. "I may not look it but I can pack a serious punch."

Michael blinked slowly before looking back at you. "What do you need, Kalei?" You sputtered, trying to change the topic before your impromptu boyfriend decided to make a scene.

"Oh, the Secret Santa's starting. Came to getcha." They gestured for you both to follow with an impish smile growing on their face. "Better hurry up before people start making assumptions." They teased with a waggle of their eyebrows.

Your face lit up like a torch and you gently pushed Michael away to march down the hall. "N-no, wouldn't want that, yeah." Your voice sounded far away to your own ears, too much blood pounding through your head.

Michael followed on your heels like a loyal dog and you tried to ignore the way that made you feel.

You and Michael took a seat on one of the couches and you held his arm almost possessively, especially when you noticed some of the other girls at the party kept looking at him with bashful faces. It pissed you off just how shameless they were even when they knew he was dating you. Was it that hard for people to believe?

The absence of John Kallas made you think that he and his buddies had gone into one of the other rooms. Which put your mind at ease, at least a little.

The Secret Santa was relatively uneventful. You clapped politely as people opened their gifts and were surprised when Chrissy handed you your gift from her. A book on growing vegetables with a tab already inside on a picture of a tomato plant. "You think I should grow tomatoes?" You gave her an amused smile.

"Well, duh! It, like, suits your whole vibe, y'know? I'm surprised you don't grow more vegetables." Chrissy had nudged you gently as you began leafing through the rest of the book, skimming the words as Michael watched over your shoulder.

As it finally came time to leave, you were saying your goodbyes to Chrissy when you spotted Officer Kallas leaving the kitchen. You pulled Michael out of there quickly, hoping that the stumble the officer gave was simply him tripping and not because he'd seen The Boogeyman as your date to his daughter's party.

Your walk back to the car was brisk and silent. White snow was like stars as it fell overhead before coming to rest on your shoulders and the ground below. "Thank you for coming," you said, reaching over to squeeze Michael's hand. "It was nice having you there."

Before you could pull your hand away completely, he gave you a squeeze of his own before climbing into the passenger seat.

Oh, you thought to yourself. Oh.

For Christmas, you'd gotten Michael a drum set.

It had been an impulsive buy, a decision you had made while walking past a thrift store and noticing a decently priced set on display in the window.

He enjoyed doing things with his hands - be it painting, making masks, or, most recently, helping you decorate Christmas cookies. So you figured he'd get a kick out of drumming. You lived far out enough that he could afford to be loud without worrying about waking the neighbors up and you had a detached garage he could play in. Maybe when the weather got warmer, he'd move outside.

And it might help him to let energy out. You'd caught him giving death glares to random postmen who came to your door and he'd already begun the habit of wearing the accursed Halloween mask around the house again. So you didn't want him to get bored.

“Here,” you said as you passed him the drumsticks. He examined them curiously and you gestured to the drums. When he gave you an empty stare, you took one of the stucks and whacked on the cymbals. That made Michael’s eyes widen and he moved around to take a seat. “You can be as loud as you want with them. No one’ll hear soooo… go crazy!”

Michael took the stick back and held them both in hesitant hands. With a few bangs that seemed exploratory coupled with getting the hang of pressing his foot to make a lower noise, he seemed to catch on pretty quick. His banging grew in speed and volume as he gained confidence and you laughed, covering your ears when the sound echoed off the walls of the small space. "You got it!" You called over the crashing cymbals.

A loud bang signified the end of his "song" and he stared at you with wide, crazy eyes, panting heavily. "Fun, right?" You smiled at him. "They're all yours so you're free to come play them whenever you want."

His lips curled into an almost feral smile that made you smile back. You'd never seen him smile before, much less like that.

Over the next few days, Michael continued sneaking – literally sneaking, like he'd be in trouble if you spotted him – into the garage to play the drums. His disorganized, chaotic banging was slowly starting to take form. Organized chaos, you smiled to yourself. The loud sounds and movements gave Michael a chance to express himself with noise which was quite the contrast to his usual quiet self.. You also found it exceptionally cute when he'd go play and come back inside hours later with his wild brown curls disheveled and a crazed grin on his face.

It had been unsettling at first seeing him smile the way he did but now it just made your heart seize. His fingers would drum on things to a tune you couldn't hear and he was painfully human now, relaxed around you and genuinely happy, from what you could tell.

So you made a mixtape for him that focused on heavy drum sounds, steady but loud beats the way he liked. At first he didn't seem too interested in it but you'd since caught him listening to it a few times, eyes closed and posture relaxed. Music wasn't something Michael had a lot of exposure to so you had fun introducing him to various bands and musicians.

Metal music seemed to be his preference, which made a lot of sense.

It was New Years when things really changed.

You and Michael had the television on with the channel turned to watch the ball drop. It wasn’t typically a tradition you cared about but you could tell your housemate was intrigued. He’d been upstairs painting for most of the day while you cleaned the house up a bit. "Spring cleaning," you said to Michael as he watched you from the kitchen. "Cleaning makes me happy. It's nice to get everything back in order after the holidays. 'sides, it's still too cold out for gardening."

Michael tilted his head but retreated back upstairs with his water jar for his paints.

Once the sun set, you made hot chocolate and ordered pizza. Michael preferred just plain cheese but you’d gotten yours with olives - something Michael always gave you looks for. "Don't knock it 'till ya try it," you'd snickered through a mouthful of pizza.

His brow furrowed in distaste as he took a bite of his own pizza.

It was cute. He had a lot of personality once you knew where to look. And he’d clearly gotten very comfortable with you during the time you’d been living together. It felt like a great honor to get to see Michael Myers do something as mundane as eat pizza in lounge clothes.

The two of you watched cartoons for a few hours until 11:57 hit. You flicked to the news channel and let your head loll to the side and rest against the back of the couch. "It's not the most exciting thing in the world," you said as you glanced at Michael, "But it's fun. It's nice to see everyone around the world get together for something like this."

Michael had just stared at the television with a slight tilt to his head. 11:59 struck and you felt your throat tighten as an idea came to mind. You recalled a conversation you'd had with Chrissy a couple years back where she'd told you about her favorite New Years tradition.

50 seconds…

It couldn't hurt to ask, right?

45…

“Hey, Michael?” Your voice was barely a whisper. You kept your eyes trained on the TV even when you felt his eyes on you.

40…

Swallowing was a challenge for you. “There’s, um, a kind of New Years tradition. That, um, it means-”

30…

“-you’ll have good luck for the rest of the year.” Your words were slow and methodical. It felt like you had to really sell him on the idea, even if you were afraid to tell him what it was. You weren't even sure you wanted to admit to yourself how badly you wanted to-

25…

“Want to do it?”

Michael just stared blankly at you. His eyes darted between yours, calculating. It made you feel flayed open despite the fact you were pretty sure he didn't know what you were talking about.

20…

He gave you a single nod. You quickly darted your tongue out to wet your lips. Now or never, you sighed internally.

“Trust me,” you said more than asked. His eyes widened slightly but he didn't pull away. You knew he trusted you and all you could do was hope he didn't react poorly.

15…

You swallowed around the heavy lump in your throat and tried to not look too worried. If he got the impression it was something bad, you may lose your chance. Lifting a gentle hand, you let your fingertips graze his cheek before slowly settling to cup his face properly.

It was like you could hear the sound of your own heart pounding even over the cheering on the television.

10…

"This okay?

9…

Michael's eyes softened and he gave a slight nod, as though worried he'd dislodge you entirely.

8…

You scooted closer, the both of you adjusting so you were sat facing each other, opposite shoulders brushing the back of the couch. He sat perfectly cross-legged while one of your legs braced against the floor.

7…

Slowly, you reached over with your free hand to tangle your fingers together in a loose hold.

6…

His eyes widened more and his lips parted. A look of realization flashed in his eyes and for a moment you worried you'd overstepped.

5…

"Still okay?"

4…

Michael gave a small nod again, eyes darting all over your face as he searched for…something. You weren't sure.

3…

2…

1…

You leant forward and pressed your lips together in a sweet kiss. The sounds of cheering that came from the television felt far away and underwater. Every sense in your body was focused on Michael - the warmth of his hand, the residual taste of hot chocolate on his lips, and the soft intake of breath you heard when your lips met.

It felt like the cheering was for you two.

At first, Michael didn't seem sure what to do with himself. With some gentle guidance, you tilted his head to the side to let him lean into the kiss better. He was clearly trying, so you scooted closer and let him set his hands on your hips to lift you into his lap without breaking the kiss.

When you parted to catch your breaths, Michael was staring at you with half-lidded, glassy eyes. It felt like your heart was going to burst out of your chest

You pulled him back in, tangling your fingers in his hair to keep him in place. His arms wrapped around your waist and you sunk into his hold. Being with him felt warm and safe.

So yeah. Things changed on New Years. But neither of you were complaining.

The snow finally began to clear up, being replaced smoothly by sleet and rain. It was honestly far more preferable to you, since it made walks in the forest more enjoyable. You'd always preferred the rain.

It had been a few weeks since the New Years and you and Michael were in some type of relationship. The word "dating" had come to mind but it wasn't really accurate. It was more than dating. You were partners in crime - literally and figuratively - as well as good friends, housemates, close confidants, and, more importantly, you saw each other. Really and truly. You'd both picked up on the others wordless sentences and slight shifts in your bodies were like loud declarations. Sure, you two held hands and he let you touch him more but that wasn't what was important to you.

Michael smiled more. He'd watch you with soft, sleepy eyes, stopped tensing whenever you cut his hair, and you'd caught him dozing off on the couch a few times.

You internally cursed Dr. Loomis for tormenting this man for so, so many years. Embodiment of evil your ass, he was so obviously desperate for love and care that he'd practically thrown himself at you as soon as you'd proven you would love him no matter what. He was more than the traumas he felt compelled to reenact. He was so, so much more and you loved every part of him.

Today, you needed to run down to the store to grab a few things. The rain had finally let up enough that you felt comfortable driving. "Michael? I'll be back around 5:30, alright?" You called into the house as you fastened your shoes.

Ever since the Christmas party, he'd gotten better about you leaving the house for short periods of time. So long as you promised to come back, that is. If you didn't, you knew he'd hunt you down with a knife and a bloodstained jumpsuit. Of that, you had no doubt.

Michael appeared in the doorway of the kitchen staring at you. You shot him a grin and grabbed your bags. "Be back soon!" You called over your shoulder as you ventured outside.

Looking back on it, you wished you'd stayed home…

You were examining a box of cereal for dents when someone approached you. "Hey," Chrissy's voice came from behind you. When you turned, she looked tense with her arms around herself and her smile was tight. Forced. Alarm bells began ringing in your head but you smiled back.

"Hey, Chrissy. Uh, you okay?"

"How's your boyfriend? What was his name, um, Michael, right?" She looked like she'd be sick and you felt white-hot adrenaline shoot through you like a bolt of lightning. "He, um, is he around?"

You swallowed, keeping your movements slow and casual. If you cracked, then she'd know. So you made a show of putting the cereal box into your cart and took the chance to look around. The aisle was empty but you caught the sign of movement near the end. Blue police uniforms, likely Chrissy's dad and his partner.

"No, he's traveling." You gave Chrissy an exhausted smile. "Y'know I'm not gonna pass your number along, right?"

She looked pale but her smile got wider and she took a small step back, like you terrified her. "Did, um, did someone die?" Her fake pout made you want to punch her in the face. Her faux sympathy oozed from her tone and you couldn't help the way your eye twitched. "Maybe his sister-?"

You froze in place. She knew. You don't know how she found out but there was no doubt she knew. Why the hell Officer Kallas had waited so long to act, let alone use his daughter as bait, was beyond you. Had he seen pictures from the party and asked Chrissy to identify him? Had he compared it to his mugshot? The thought of that made you irrationally angry.

"His dad is sick." You grit out through clenched teeth.

"You're sick," Chrissy shot back like a viper. "You've been sleeping with the fucking Boogeyman! You brought him to my house, oh my god, what if he killed-!" She choked back a sob, having the audacity to look betrayed.

Like a Barbie doll with mascara tears.

Enough was enough. You spun on your heel and marched away from a sobbing Chrissy like a man on a mission. You heard Officer Kallas call your name and you took a steadying breath before spinning, swinging the metal cart full of boxes and cans behind you and watching the two officers stumble and trip. Chrissy shrieked in fear and you took off towards the sliding glass doors. The crackle of a walkie talkie behind you was loud, too loud for you to make out any words being said. Everything in you was hyperfocused on running.

You heard heavy footsteps hot on your heel and you wished, momentarily, that you had a weapon of your own.

All you had to do was get to your car, the little piece of junk like an oasis in a hot desert. All you had to do was get in and you could get away, get to a phone booth and call Michael. Tell him to get Mayhem, pack bags, and get out. You'd promise you'd pick him up. Something. Anything.

But you’d never get the chance.

The officer tailing grabbed you around your middle and lifted you up like a bratty child hauling a cat around. “Put me down!” You shrieked and began to slam your fists on his arms.

"You're under arrest for disrupting justice, harboring a criminal, and assaulting an officer," his robotic words fell on deaf ears as you continued to fight for your life. Cornered animals bit and he was finding that out the hard way as you twisted to claw at his face.

But he easily overpowered you, shoving you into the backseat of his police cruiser and slamming the door. Tears began to fall down your face as you began to panic. Michael wouldn't know they were coming. They surely knew to check your house. They'd catch him there and then what? Would they kill him? Shoot to kill, like you remembered hearing on the radio all those months ago?

You felt like throwing up. All you could do was curl up on the leather seats and sob your heart out.

All you could do was hope he'd be okay.

Dr. Samuel Loomis considered himself a brilliant man.

He was assigned to Michael Myers' case when the young boy had first been admitted to Smith's Grove when he'd just been a young, non-speaking child. His mother had brought him in, her eyes red rimmed and pleading to help her son.

And Dr. Loomis always loved a challenge case. Every 'difficult' patient he ever had while working in this institution had eventually cracked under his methods. So he studied Michael, subjecting him to various medications, talk therapy, and tried everything to trigger any kind of response out of him. At first, Michael seemed to truly want to be helped. His mother visited every week and talked with him about home, about his life after the institution.

Michael took well to art therapy, much to Loomis' frustrations - he had strongly advised against giving the young boy access to making masks - and he started to make progress in sorting through what happened to him.

Then his parents died. It was like everything in Michael shut down after that. Walls were built up high and became impenetrable the longer Dr Loomis poked and prodded for a reaction.

Years went by and no more progress was made. It was like talking to a brick wall. A brick wall with eyes like the devil, as far as Loomis was concerned. There was no way a child could commit such atrocities without an ounce of guilt, no confession of sin. He'd advocated strongly against Michael being released on parole, insisting he was soulless and dangerous.

So Halloween came and Michael escaped, killing teenagers and reenacting the horrors he'd committed to his sister fifteen years ago. And now he had escaped yet again. This time was different though - Michael had gone missing for several months now. Too long had passed without any new murders and Loomis was becoming anxious and impatient. Police had let the case go, grateful at the idea Michael moved on to terrorize a new town.

But Dr. Loomis knew Michael Myers all too well.

He stood in his dimly lit office, watching a police car drive up through the large open window. Watching you get unloaded from the car and observing the way you fought so viciously, Loomis felt like he hit the jackpot. It was no wonder Michael was so obsessed with you. There was a darkness to you that had yet to grow anywhere. Surely he was just biding his time, playing house with you while he waited for you to snap and join him in his killing sprees.

He couldn't have that though. Michael had to be returned to Smith's Grove before he caused any more devastation.

“Doctor?” Officer Kallas’s voice broke the psychologist from his stupor.

“Come in.” He turned, looking over his shoulder and smiling when he lay eyes on you.

There you were. In handcuffs with tear tracks on your face. Your lip was split from where you'd nicked it while trying to bite Officer Kallas. “We apprehended him like you asked. We’ll head to the house to retrieve-”

“Don’t,” Loomis held up his hand to still the room. “No. We’ve got all we need right here.” He approached you slowly, like you were something to behold. You felt slimy under his fascinated stare. “Michael will come looking for him. Then we’ll catch him. We can’t give him any home-turf advantages.”

Officer Kallas nodded and shoved you forward into the room before closing the door behind him. You felt like a muzzled dog, glaring down the doctor with such hate that it reminded him of Michael.

Dr Loomis took a seat at his desk. “Tell me,” he hummed, “What was it like being held captive by Michael?” You looked at him, brow furrowed. Held captive? Was that the narrative they were running with? He seemed to misinterpret your confusion and gave you a sympathetic smile. “I know you were held by him for quite some time. Your friend Chrissy told her father about it. You were seen-”

“I wasn't a prisoner.” You spat, almost offended.

“So you were simply afraid.” The doctor clicked his pen, beginning to write something down. His scribbling felt grating on your nerves and you felt the urge to strangle the man, cuffs be damned.

But you just glared at him instead. “What is this, an interrogation?”

Dr. Loomis lifted his head and you could see the arrogance in his eyes. “I’ve studied Michael for sixteen years,” he said slowly, “And I’ve never seen him so fascinated by another human being.”

“Maybe you’re just shitty at your job.” You scoffed.

If you weren't already glaring daggers, you would have missed the disapproving look Loomis gave you. "In good time, my theory will be proven." He gave you a smile and gestured to one of the chairs sat in front of his desk. "Michael will come for you. And when he does, I will finally rid the world of that potent evil." He said with a menacing, teeth-filled smile.

You wish you’d stayed home.

#🔪 creeps writes #slasher x reader #slasher fanfiction #slasher x s/o #halloween 1978 #michael myers #michael myers x reader #michael myers x you #mask of hate

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bronx-bomber87 · 3 days

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Happy Wednesday wonderful readers. It's hard to believe we’re on 6x08 already. Thanks for hanging in there with me. 6x05-6x07 are not easy episodes emotionally. So appreciate you all reading these. 6x08 is an emotional ride all its own. This entire season is really. We get a beautiful moment at the end for our ship though. One that still makes me weepy. With the perfect song to go with it. So let's begin shall see?

6x08 Punch Card.

The ep name is punch card when it starts out with a punch to the heart. We see a reminder come up on Tim's phone. It’s about Lucy’s birthday *sad sigh* Not only a reminder but he has 'Birthday' in all caps. Wanted to make sure he didn’t forget. Also and this is just shippy conjecture... Was he did so he could do something special for her. That’s what that reminder represents to me. He quickly swipes it away and tries to swipe the feelings along with it. His sigh and tongue click has me emotional. It’s all through this episode we start to see the regret really begin to sink in for Tim .

I know people were upset he didn't seem as upset as Lucy in 6x07. Trust me that man is WRECKED. He showed signs last ep. But this episode marks the beginning of him truly showcasing all of that. Tim is starting to feel the immense loss he’s inflicted on himself. *phew* I wanna cry. Which has been a theme since 6x05. He is broken out of his emotional revere by the elevator opening. It’s Mad Dog and Blair. The tension is palpable in there but you’re not sure why. Only that something feels very off and wrong about the whole thing.

Tim is so caught up in his Lucy loss he doesn’t pick up on it. Had that reminder not come up he would’ve been sharper. His cop gut screaming out a bit more. But as of right now it's subdued with sadness. Kills me how he wants to rectify things with M.D. Breaks my heart really. He hurt more than just Lucy with his actions. Mad Dog is short with him and not in a place to receive these amends. Tim breaks my heart a little more when he watches him depart. Oh Timothy. He finally acknowledges Dr. London asking if she's getting off here? When she says she took the wrong elevator my red flag was going OFF.

Now comes the scene I know made everyone uncomfortable. I don't love it I'll be honest. But here’s my take on it. Last episode we talked about defense mechanisms a lot. What Tim and Lucy’s were. Why they use them. To me this scene right here is displaying Dr. London’s. I believe she uses flirting as her defense mechanism. They showed her flirting with Aaron at the bar in the recap for a reason. Side tangent about the recap. This will be a small detour to my point lol. They also showed the breakup again in the recap too. Hate that. I'll have PTSD from that scene for life. Like damn recap I don't need the reminder. Don't worry we haven't forgotten I promise you. It's seared in my memory for life thank you very much....

Anyways I think that scene at the bar with Aaron in the recap was to set up this scene. Very intentional of her manipulative flirting. Tim asks about Mad Dog which sets that in motion. So in order not to blow her cover she flirts with Tim. Under the guise of ‘Checking in on him.’ Turning it back around on him by asking how he felt seeing him? She’s doing this to shield herself and deflect further questions about what just happened. Tim is clearly upset and she takes advantage of it. It’s a mixture of the Lucy reminder and now seeing Mad Dog. The manifestation of two relationships he destroyed with his actions in 6x05-6x06.

So even though I don’t love this scene. I get the why and mechanics behind it if that makes sense. I know some people thought him replying back was flirty. I think he was just doing his own investigating. His gut kicking on in this moment. He’s clearly not comfortable with her trying to do therapy outside their sessions. Also his face when he exits the elevator tells me everything. It’s not of a man who flirted. It's one who’s is still deeply hurting. Also conflicted because his cop gut IS going off and he doesn’t know why…. He is feeling as off as we were about her.

We hop over to our girl in Grey’s office. Asking her how her new roommate is working out? That being Celina of course from the previous ep. Reason he’s asking is he needs her to ride with her today. Lucy is so adorable saying she’s not a T.O. though… This is where the scene gets real cute. Grey all but anoints her LOL Lucy’s face when he does is hilarious. Couldn't fit in but was very Lion King vibes up in here haha

Lucy continuing the adorableness asks if he can do that? Wade replying he is all powerful lmao I think this scene is great for a couple reasons. First off thank you Wade Grey for giving her a position of power and authority like this. If anyone has earned it it’s our girl. I also think this is really good for her self esteem. For him to trust her enough to give her a leadership opportunity is huge. Shouldn’t have taken this damn long honestly. But she has been very UC driven since S3.

Regardless I love this so much for her. To prove her leadership skills. To rebuild herself a bit post breakup. Lastly I think this moment is a wee bit of foreshadowing. With the time elapse, I’m sure is to come with the s7 premiere, she could be one by then. This is straight speculation. Since we don't know a damn thing bout s7. But I think it would be real good for her. She would be a superior teacher to new rookies. Far better than numb nuts Nolan…. Grey is MVP two eps in a row I will say.

Tim enters the chat immediately after. He’s so lost in trying to delete his reminder he doesn’t realize Lucy is there. That Lucy smile of his ever present. He literally can’t help it. Man is so damn gone for her. It oozes out of him whenever she is present. Ugh. My heart. Lucy almost returns it because she has for so many years prior. She stops herself midway and reminds her body she’s still mad at him. Tim tries to break the ice a little with his joke. Lucy doesn’t engage as much as he would like of course.

Still picking up the pieces of her broken heart my love. Also the awkwardness that still exists between them is ever present in this short scene. Couldn’t get away fast enough and Grey notices this of course. His reply of 'Wow.' saying it all. The way Tim watches her until she is out of sight *heart clutch* Just watching his entire heart walk out the station….Ain’t no thing…Doesn’t affect me at all. *sniffle* *phew* I’m fine.

This hurts no matter the time that has passed. Hate seeing them like this. I know with s7 in the works we are on the road to recovery. But until said recovery happens, these post breakup eps are gonna hurt like a SOB. There's no two ways about it. Even after they get back together these will still sting. Cause Eric and Melissa did an incredible job with these episodes. This short scene wrecking us shows us their skills. Elevating the material in a way only they can.

Grey notes how awkward that was. Tim telling him it’s better than it has been.... That’s not enough for Wade though. Honestly it shouldn’t be. That he need again to fix this ASAP. This will only continue to breed dysfunction. Which in turn will be a disaster for team cohesion. That he isn't going out that way as Watch Commander. Wade reminding him he NEEDS to work it out with Lucy.

Otherwise it’s going to force him to choose between them. Now you know I love my Tim. Love this man to death. Would fight anyone who knocks on him. But I friggin adore Grey choosing Lucy in this scenario. Tim caused this mess he either needs to clean it up. Or it’s time for him to go. Hurts my heart to write that but it's true. Even though he is senior officer, worked there longer, been under Wade longer it doesn’t matter. He will be the one shipped off. Taking her side is the right thing to do.

Makes me wanna cry the thought of him being sent away. I remember first time watched this it started a deep ache in my gut. One of massive anxiety. Of course it would be friggin North Hollywood. That damn station been haunting them since s2. Just looming overhead ready to take one of them. Almost happened in 5x12 too. Anyways does my heart good he sides with Lucy in this matter. This is Tim’s mess to fix and no one else’s.

Lucy meets up with Celina and asks if she’s ok with this? Ever the amazing empath our girl. Celina looks psyched as hell to have Lucy. How could she not be? Wealth of knowledge to give her in a kind but commanding way. Getting to see Lucy show off her leadership skills is making me giddy. On a solo character level was my fav part of the ep. (Clearly not counting the Chenford stuff)

Her leadership style is right there with mine. Where I am 90 percent Tim her being a T.O. Is all me. Her style is pretty damn identical to mine. Telling her she wants to ‘Invest in her success.’ Is me all damn day. Thats all I ever wanted for my team. For them to see I was investing in them and there to make them better. It’s cute how excited Celina is for this. Hell of an upgrade from the bumbling bone head she usually has.

The Aaron and Tim show begins and I’m here for it. I’ve always enjoyed their dynamic. Aaron pushing Tim a little more than most would. We know Lucy has softened him to the point where he doesn’t kill Aaron. ha Asking why he has to be the one to be in uniform and not Tim? Lmao Because you are the rookie dearest haha These two are goobers together and I love it sfm. You can tell he is dying to ask Tim if he is struggling right now. Because he went from QB to water-boy for Metro.

Like I said earlier it’s really starting to hit Tim the relationships he fractured. The regret is coming at him from all sides in this one. First Lucy and now this. Aaron can’t help it and asks anyway even though he shouldn’t. Tim gives him the company line of course. Pulling some S1 Tim out in this van. Telling him he does what he’s told without complaint. Ok babe yes, but that doesn’t mean it’s not upsetting you….

He went from running this entire team. Making calls on the fly to this. Boring grunt work. Tim bounces back with his sassy comment about his deodorant. I’m cackling because Aaron’s reaction is so damn funny. He gets so distracted by this he doesn’t write anything down. Tim’s face when he asks why isn’t documenting this is so funny. The most Aaron thing he could do. Be derailed by Tim's comment and not pay attention. Oh I will miss you Aaron Thorsen.

I am enjoying Lucy’s teaching so much. Partly because it reflects how I teach. She corrects without crushing her confidence. She also does it afterwards as not to ding her confidence in the moment. Exact reflection of what I used to do for my work kids. Lucy is kind but confident in her correction. Doing it in the moment so it sticks, but waiting till after they’re done for her to properly receive it. Celina receives it well because even though it’s one she is told in a kind manner. I just love it sfm.

The other reason I love it is because Lucy is out here crushing it. Zero T.O. Training but picking it up like she’s been doing it for years. She is going off instinct and what she would’ve wanted as a rookie. I had zero training when I was told to train new hires as a manager. So I went based off my experience and what I would’ve loved to know when I was new. So her tactics are very similar to me and makes me happy to see it.

Already light years ahead of Nolan it’s insane. Tim would be so proud of her if he could see it. We all know how seriously he takes training new officers. The sacred duty that it is and needs to be treated as such. Lucy is doing all that and more. Feels like more foreshadowing for her to become one in s7. Would crack me up if she got one of the new ones and Tim got the other. They could compare and contrast their leaderships styles. See who does better. But I’m daydreaming with that ha

Tim’s phone goes off again. Reminding him once again Lucy’s birthday is tomorrow. Tim is hit with a double gut punch in this moment. First grunt work for Metro then Lucy loss as the second one. Aaron noting he must’ve set it quite a few times... Which is heart breaking to think of in this moment. It is sweet he set it up so many times so he wouldn’t forget it. I think pre-breakup Tim didn’t want to lose track of this important day.

Also my guess is he wanted to make a big deal of it too. Their days are unpredictable so makes sense he would set so many. That’s pure conjecture on my part. But watching him through out their relationship this lines up. Seeing how he doted on her and brought her thoughtful gifts. He was most definitely going to do that. Like I said earlier this ep is starting to reflect the cracks in his foundation.

His facade of pretending to be okay after their breakup is starting to fade. The fact that he says ‘Girl you broke up with.’ Not his ex is speaking volumes to me. It’s starting to dawn on him truly what he’s lost and done. Because you would say ex if it was something to move on from. The regret is starting to seep in and breaks my heart to watch it. But also it’s good to see him feeling it. Now that’s he’s regulated and going to therapy, his clarity on what he’s done is coming up for air. It’s weighing on him, and we can see that clearly in this scene.

This next part really gets me in the feels. Tim asks if he got her anything? Being vulnerable for the first time in their convo. Look at that puppy in the first couple gifs. Aaron tells him yes. A spa day at the Four Seasons. It’s the smile here that gets me. Even thinking about Lucy brings about that smile of his. The one that only comes up around her or about her. He knows exactly how much his girl is gonna love that. Enjoy it. Also thinking how much she deserves such a gift.

The smile has me reeling. He just loves her so much. He can’t help but do that in love smile when he thinks about her. *screams into a pillow* Then his smile ends with sadness. Eric be killing me for a 4th ep in a row. We watch the smile tail off with a tinge of sadness. Because he’s not going to see how happy that gift makes her. How she would’ve dragged him along with her most likely. It’s really hitting him he’s lost her. Lost access to that part of her life now.

The happiness to heartbreak in that smile is masterful on Eric’s part. Just look at him in that last gif. I was feeling all that from his smile. It’s subtle but impactful as hell. Eric and Melissa’s speciality at breaking our hearts. Especially this season. His reaction is screaming how much he still loves her. Carrying the burden of what he’s done is becoming more and more evident. Mourning the loss of what he hastily threw away. Hurts so good. Maybe they’ll be together by her next bday and he can make up for it. A girl can dream right?

The boys share a nice moment and I love it. Aaron pushes it with his final question though. You can see him drawing up the courage to ask Tim. Wanting to know what everyone wants to know. Why they split up? Tim’s reply cracking me up. He is as sharp and curt as can be. No more emotion left in his tone. ‘No’ LMAO Vulnerable Tim is gone now. Took it too far Aaron...

The balls on you sir to ask that my god. Lucy doesn’t even know why. You sure as hell aren’t going to get that answer…Honestly you’re lucky you got Tim as vulnerable as you did good sir. But gotta love him trying and failing super hard. Makes a bittersweet scene end on a funny note that made me chuckle.

This scene with Mad Dog hurts my heart. Tim is facing the repercussions of his actions so hard in this episode. From both barrels of Metro and Lucy. It’s good for him to feel and see what he’s done. That doesn’t mean it does hurt me to watch it. I’m still protective of him even though it’s what he needs to see and experience...

My worry was something like this happening. Working with Metro was going to reopen a wound that’s hasn't even begun to heal. We know what happens with M.D. later. So, a part of this is projection is because he knows he’s walking his guys into a trap somewhat. Worried Tim is going to find him out through his OP plan. That being said doesn’t make it easier to watch him dismantle Tim.

I will say it is yummy to see him in street clothes and jeans. That badge prominently on his hip. Mmmm gimme. Wouldn’t be me if I didn’t gawk at him a little would it? Also haven’t done it in a minute due to the non stop heartbreak since 6x05.

The OP goes sideways in the worst way. They’re ambushed and his guys end up in the hospital. Nash is in surgery due to the explosion. Tim comes to see Mad Dog and it feels all kinds of off. He’s expecting Tim to flog him for what he’s done. That his OP lead his men into danger. Almost as if he wants Tim to reprimand me for what he’s done. But he’s in the dark to what’s going on so Tim can’t possibly do as such.

Tim’s cop gut is kicking into high gear during this scene though. Between M.D. acting completely different post OP and his reaction to Blair appearing. Tim questioning how in the hell she even knew about this? She comes up with a pretty slick answer that pacifies Tim for now. But it’s seeing Mad Dogs reaction that has his red flag going up.

He can barely look at Blair in the eye. Tim noticing and bringing it up. M.D. plays it off as being tired. That he doesn’t want to talk about his feelings right now. Tells Tim they shot him full of painkillers. He’s gonna shut down for awhile. Tim understands and doesn’t linger. I remember knowing at this point she was dirty. But could also see the internal struggle going on inside her. Which intrigued me to why she was dirty in the first place? All things to come in later eps...

Now comes the best part of the entire episode. One that we all still think about. How could we not? Eric and Melissa were once again surprised how much we loved this scene. What’s not love? What's not lose our minds over? Return of Kojo, the song that is utter perfection, and the fact that Tim reached out through him to say Happy Birthday. Makes me teary just thinking about it. I'll never be over this scene. How it felt like a true start to healing our shipper hearts. Because they've been in ROUGH shape for awhile.

We all needed this moment. After such utter heartbreak and turmoil the last 3 episodes. This was like coming up for air for the first time to truly breathe. Melissa killing us right off the bat. Her face was all of us in this moment. The way she lights up when she sees Kojo. Their cute fur-baby just sitting in the hallway with a card in his mouth. I’m not crying you are... Also makes me giggle a little thinking how Tim had to run from the door after he knocked. To make sure only Kojo was there. It's the sweetest thing. *happy sigh*

Killing me softly with how she pets him. Asking how he is. Telling him she misses him. Just like Tim in the van her smile morphs. It goes from happiness to sadness. Because Kojo is an extension of Tim. Her saying she misses him is having a double meaning here. Despite all the hurt Tim caused her she misses him so much.

It’s reflected in how she is loving on Kojo. Her words have an extra meaning to them. Of course she misses her fur-baby. But she also misses her person. A piece of her heart is missing with him gone. This scene has me teary from beginning to end. We missed this good boy so much. Such a tearjerker of a moment when she reunites with him.

When Kojo takes off back to Tim it’s like watching a part of her heart go along with it. Knowing where he is running back to. The ache in her heart that is still there. She knows he’s in that hallway. It's bittersweet because even broken up she brings the best out in Tim. This wonderful gesture is due to how he’s grown because of her. If you weren't crying in this moment you're dead inside lol I'm sorry.

Tim wrecks me with how he’s looking toward that same hallway. He can only imagine what her reaction is. Hoping it's a good one. That what he's done here is having a positive effect on her. It is. What a way to bring this sweet boy back in. They really killed it with this scene. I love Tim keeping his distance. Respecting her space in this moment. But knowing he couldn’t let her b-day go without acknowledging it. This was the best way to do it.

Also the fact that this is happening in that hallway. One that represents so many seminal moments for them. I just wanna sob at the beautiful symbolism of this. You can see the regret building on Tim’s face once again. The distance he can feel between them. It's like he’s finally grasping what he’s done. The regrets he feels starting to truly mount in this moment.

Melissa’s reactions after Kojo leaves are absolutely killing me. The tears in her eyes as she picks up the card. Evoking so much emotion out of me just watching her. This is where the lyrics had me bawling. Because it so perfectly represents Lucy in this moment.

"When the sun won't shine and the words don't rhyme And there's mountains you can't move.

Something's on your mind And it's been some time since you felt like you were you.

When it all caves in, feeling paper thin And the pain might cut right through. "

This has been Lucy since the end of 6x06. Hell it was the fandom. The sun has not shined since that day for her. She hasn’t felt like herself in what feels like eons. Her pain feeling so very paper thin. The smallest thing cutting right though her. What happened between them rocked Lucy to her very core. She’s still sitting in the pain of it all. Him giving up on them so easily is haunting her. Probably wondering if he loved her as much as she loved him? Those intrusive thoughts running on an endless loop in her brain since it happened.

“When you feeling like you ain't got a friend, And you wondering' if you ever gonna' smile again. Every little things gonna be okay.” This one getting me in the feels as well. Another perfect reflection of how Lucy is feeling. I know what it’s like to feel this way. Alone in your pain. Wondering if you’re ever gonna smile again. Be happy. It seems so far off. These lyrics were so perfectly poignant. They were very intentional in using this song. As much as these lyrics made me cry they also filled me with hope and comfort. Particularly the line in that last lyric. That everything is going to be ok. If you haven’t downloaded this song. I highly it recommend it. 'Lift Up Your Head. by Esabalu'

What makes the rest of this moment so beautiful are the following gifs. Lucy opening that card and seeing what Tim has done for her. This is also the first time we’ve seen Lucy cry about them. And it hurts like hell to watch. Like I said she’s been sitting in this pain. Wondering if this relationship meant more to her than it did Tim. Then he does this. Acknowledges her birthday in the perfect way. It does a couple things. One it shows he wanted to make sure this day didn’t pass without him acknowledging it. That’s he’s thinking about her.

Two it shows Lucy he stills cares about her. The gift in itself shows the level of care. He’s reaching out to her without physically doing so. I mean the effort he put into this is immense. He was so creative and thoughtful. Having it come from Kojo and not himself. Executing the perfect delivery on-top of it as well. The way she touches the paw print has me bawling. Just mopping up my tears at this point. Knowing what this card meant. What it represented. Lucy no doubt has been torturing herself still about why it ended.

How he didn’t care for her the way she did for him. She really needed this. Because it shows it has nothing to do with Tim's feelings for her. You don’t put this kind of effort in if you don’t still love someone. Her reaction is the second gif screams that. Lucy still doesn’t understand why. But she can rest little easier knowing it wasn’t about his feelings for her. This shows her he still cares deeply for her. Man owes her a conversation still but this was a beautiful start towards that. Towards healing.

Tim’s face KILLS me. I think the writers intentionally wrote him to come off as if he wasn’t as affected. That this breakup wasn’t killing Tim. When it absolutely was. He needed time to regulate and some therapy to get here. Also it makes this scene hit a little harder doesn’t it? That man’s face above is one of absolute regret. It’s truly hitting him what he’s done to her. Eric once again murdering my feels. They both are.

You can see the myriad of emotions splayed across his beautiful face. It’s here he’s finally grasping what he’s thrown away. Knowing he should be there right now. Celebrating her birthday along side her. That bath bomb she mentions earlier in the scene should be been shared together. This hurts so good. I commend them for the buildup to this moment. We needed that episode previous to get to this point.

For Tim to finally feel the regrets raining down on him right now. That is the face of a man who knows he ruined everything. Fucked up a perfectly wonderful relationship. Destroyed his happiness and hers. Hurt his favorite person in the process of his spiral. It's killing him he can’t be there for her like he used to be. Shut that door when he tossed them away. As much as this moment hurts it's huge step towards reconciliation. Tim coming to the realization of how he’s hurt her and the regret he feels due to it.

Also only Eric and Melissa could have SO MUCH chemistry and not even been in the same room. These final two gifs say it all in that regard my god. You can feel the anguish and emotion between them. Just emanating from them and to each other. I love our ship. I love the actors we are blessed to have portray them. Look at our beautiful babies above. Their on screen chemistry leaves me in awe of them. They aren't even sharing the same space and are exuding chemistry. These final lyrics of this song left me with so much hope.

“All these troubles only gonna last for a while

Yeah, we're gonna be alright, oh, child, lift up your head (yeah, the light, yeah, the light's gonna find you)

And the light's gonna find you”

These troubles are only gonna last for awhile fandom. This season felt like an eternity of pain after 6x05 but we’re gonna be alright. S7 is gonna be that light I just know it. Gonna be worth all this pain and heartache. When we're on the other side of it gonna be so much better. We are so lucky are babies get to be front and center and get these growth SL's. Have depth like they do. I'll take that over blah puddle deep Balian any day. S6 hurt so much. But this too shall pass it'll pass like a kidney stone but it'll pass for us.

Our beautiful moment is interrupted by a text from Mad Dog. He’s asking Tim to come find him to talk. They’re on a roof and that immediately made me nervous. Mad Dog tells Tim one of their guys Nash is paralyzed… I mean this adds to M.D's guilt. To why he ends up killing himself later in this scene. Tim tries to comfort him and let him know it could be temporary. This is where his confession starts. Saying it wasn’t supposed to go down like it did. It never does when you dirty like that…Tim asks him if he compromised the OP?

Tim is in absolute shock as he asks this of his former brother in arms. This is a hard scene to watch. Tim is seeing a man he used to trust his life with be revealed as dirty. That he was compromised. What a gut punch for him. I know Tim struggles with his mistakes still. But the difference being is his were always with the best intentions. He may not see that yet but his honor was always intact with them. His good intentions still present. Tim asked who he told? We all know at this point even Tim does but he needs confirmation. M.D. replies he can’t tell him. She knows all his secrets….Ugh.

Then he kills himself. Last thing this poor man needed was to see this. I do think it’s an interesting parallel to Tim. Why you ask? This could’ve been Tim if had ZERO honor. Zero integrity and moral compass. Had no one there to help support him. What he sees with his mistakes as being un-honorable was never this. M.D. is a person without the fortitude Tim has. It’s why he was turned and can’t live with himself after. I hate it being Dr. London I really do. But if not for her sessions how he reacts after this could’ve been so much worse than it was. His face when he looks over the edge is a knife to my heart...

Thank you once again to you all for reading, liking, commenting (Keep em coming I love them.) and reblogging these reviews. They mean the world to me. I shall see you all in 6x09 :)

Side notes-Non Chenford

Blair being crooked SUCKS. No two ways about it. I fought the idea so hard when the season was happening. Not because I liked her but because of Tim and Aaron too of course. But at this point it was for Tim. He had been vulnerable with her. Started therapy because of her and I was really worried that would be tainted.

Nothing really other than that just Nolan and he doesn't matter lol

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hexedwinchester · 2 days

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I JUST WATCHED 6.15, THE FRENCH MISTAKE

THE WAY SAM JUST LOOKED AT THE CEILING WHILE DOING "HIS LINES" AFTER DEAN SAID HE SHOULDNT LOOK AT THE CAMERA WHILE THEY HAD TO ACT HAD ME DISSEASED

Your honor I love him-

hiii @ghostlyaccurate

Hahaha!! I know exactly the scene you are talking about! He made bad acting look so good!🤣🤣

"it's because we have no other choice" 🤣🤣

This episode has so many iconic scenes though!

"I'm something called a Jared Padalecki"

"what am I? Dracula?"

the look of pure horror on Sam's face when Dean says "she lives here because you two are married. You married fake Ruby?"

that horse riding picture 😍

lovely, lovely episode! And yes, you are charged guilty of loving him 😁😁

Thanks for this ask! Love it! 😍

#sam winchester #s06e15 #the french mistake #jared padalecki #Something called a Jared Padalecki #Pretty sure it's lecki #Genevieve gen #supernatural #Spn #sam girl #inbox asks #ask me anything

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mikuni14 · 3 days

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Te On1y One - Ep 9

There was another series that was recently aired, and many viewers - myself included - complained that the series underwent a strange change halfway through, that it lost focus on what it was about, that nothing important happened in the series to the story and the couple for whom we were watching it. We were accused by fans of this series of a lot of weird things, including not appreciating the slow burn and things in the plot that have nothing to do with the romance.

No, it was really not that lol, as The On1y One proves. Because this is a series that has a real slow burn (episode 9 and they are still not together! and it's perfectly FINE!), and that randomly throws in an entire episode about a sports day at school with like, one or two scenes of the ML together, and yet we all just love it.

I just love this series. I like everything about it, starting from the plot, from the main couple, to sticking to the concept, style and maintaining the continuity of the vibe from the beginning, without drastic, incomprehensible changes. I watched this whole episode about kids having fun, about the mysterious relationship between the teachers and about just few scenes of ML with real enthusiasm and interest. Because even the few scenes with the main characters are filmed in such a way that they are MEANINGFUL. Because of which, even if there are few of them, as a viewer I still feel pampered 😊

......

I love all these details like looking at the bracelet before jumping, staring unblinkingly at naked Tian colleagues, cuddling Tian's neck, the vibe of "things left unsaid", glances, pouts… How Tian just folded when Sheng used a respectable phrase lol (like JaeYoung from Semantic Error hearing "hyung" 😆) And of course the invariable fact that for Tian, Sheng is absolutely a top priority. Oh no, Sheng is injured? For Tian everything else ceases to exist. 'Fuck the competition, I'm taking you out of here, I'll take care of you'. This is.. this is the height of romanticism, this, his total focus on him and his well-being, when the whole world fades away somewhere in the background.

.....

The teachers at this school are really crazy interesting, it reminds me a bit of Gokusen lol. The principal dancing to the song about him stripping was really funny 😆. And the chaos in the relationships of these three is sooo engaging 🍿

They also showed Jia Hao's struggles really well. Of course I'm not excusing him for what he did. I mean showing the reality of people who try so hard to fit in, to be the best, and how they feel when someone comes along who seems to achieve it effortlessly.

This was such a fun, sweet, funny and charming episode. I had such a good time watching it 💖

That was so romantic and hot.

I'm perfectly normal about them.

#the on1y one #bl drama #taiwanese bl

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souliebird · 2 days

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[[last call for sinners]]

fandom: Kin (AMC) pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader Rating : explicit tags: Dom/Sub, Explicit Sexual Content, Subspace, P in V sex word count: 8k Summary: The weight of the world feels like it is on Michael's shoulders and you are there to make sure he doesn't crumble under it

The weight of the world feels like it's on Michael's shoulders even when it shouldn't be.

Business is good. Anna texted him earlier without prompt. No one's been going at each other. He hasn't had an episode in a while.

Things are Good.

But his shoulders and neck are tight, his nightmares are flaring up again, and little things keep irritating him. It feels like something is winding up right inside of him, getting ready to explode. He feels trapped.

Even walking back to his house after a fantastic dinner with Birdy, he feels like he's sinking into the earth, waiting for it to swallow him whole.

He turns the corner and sees your bike parked in his driveway, hidden from the street by the wall.

Part of him wants to turn around, go back to Birdy's so he doesn't drag you don't into his darkness. But he's selfish, so very selfish, and he doesn't want to be alone in the dark and you are such a bright light.

Michael goes to you like a moth drawn to a flame, unlocking the door and calling out for you.

"Here," is the response from the sitting room. It still feels like he can't pick up his feet, trudging through mud to get to you.

You're sitting on the couch, looking like you just came from work. One elegant leg is crossed over the other and you are typing away on your phone.

"How long have ya been waiting, love?"

You look up at him with your eyes slightly narrowed and like you're about to lecture him and he freezes in his spot.

If anyone else gave him that look, he'd put them in their place.

But with you, you and that look and how he feels, he bows his head just a fraction. You don't say anything, just keep him pinned to his spot with your gaze. Until you tilt your head to the side just a fraction.

The air is squeezed from his lungs and Michael drops to his knees.

You finally put your phone to the side and uncross your legs with an exaggerated slowness. His mouth goes dry as he watches you stand. You take your time, smoothing out your dress before you walk around the coffee table to him.

The only sound is the clicking of your heels.

He keeps his eyes on your face and you don't look anywhere but his.

You stop in front of him, looking down at him with that same hard look. You reach out and cup his cheek, rubbing your thumb along his beard. He can't help but close his eyes and lean into the touch.

It's like a tether, keeping him grounded and stable, your touch.

"My sweet puppy," your voice low, just barely a whisper. He doesn't dare open his eyes. "Look at the state of you. Lost in that handsome mind of yours." You turn your hand just slightly so you can scritch your nail across his jaw.

He swallows a moan.

"What do you think will happen if I let you stay down this path, hmm? How dark will those thoughts go? Do you think it will be anything good, Michael?"

"No, ma'am."

"I don't think so either and I don't like the thought of anything not good happening to MY puppy. And you are mine , right, Michael?"

"Yes, ma'am."

You give a pleased hum and it sends a shiver down his spine. You continue to drag your nails along his beard and he's so glad you asked him to grow it out. He presses into your hand more.

"That's right. So I think I'll bring you back where you belong."

Michael turns his head so he can kiss at your palm, "Thank ya."

You allow him to nuzzle and kiss at your palm for a moment before pressing your index and middle finger under his chin, guiding his head up. He opens his eyes to look up at you.

He feels so so heavy and he knows you know, the way your eyes dance over his face.

"Let's go upstairs, pup."

He stands up from kneeling, your fingers staying under his chin until he is at full height, then tracing down his arm to take his hand. You give his fingers a light squeeze then turn and walk towards the staircase. He follows, letting you guide him across the room and up the stairs.

Michael doesn't know what he's done to deserve you, to deserve this. You always know when he falls too deep into the dark, even when he says nothing. No one sees him like you do - not Jimmy or Amanda or Birdy. You know what he needs even when he doesn't know.

"I can hear you thinking, Michael," you say, giving his hand another squeeze.

He doesn't respond, he knows he doesn't need to with you, but he does tighten his grip on your hand. He doesn't want you to let go. He needs you to anchor him.

You lead him into his bedroom, to the foot of the bed and you turn to face him without letting go of his hand. He doesn't feel like he's under a microscope when you run your eyes from his head to his feet. It's almost comforting knowing he can't hide anything from you.

"Take off your clothes," you order, letting go of his hand to run your fingers back up his arm and placing your hand in the middle of his chest.

He knows he nods, he just doesn't process it. You drop your hand from him as he peels out of his Henley. He drops it to the ground and goes for his belt next.

His heart starts beating a little faster when you step away from him. He doesn't want you to leave him. He needs you.

He needs you.

He steps after you, just to match the one step you took away from him. You watch him with those sharp eyes and it makes his throat go tight. You told him to do something and he's not doing it.

Instead of an order or a reprimand, your eyes soften and a fond little sigh escapes your lips.

"Oh, my poor puppy. You really need this, don't you?" He doesn't know how to respond, so he doesn't. You touch his cheek again and he presses into it so hard one of you might lose balance. "Help me out of this dress. After you finish doing what I already told you to do."

You keep your hand on him as he pushes his pants and briefs off as quick as he can, having to kick off his shoes mid process. He manages to get his socks off as well, and in less than five seconds, he's nude and half hard in front of you.

You rake your eyes over him again before dropping your hand again and turning so your back faces him. Your hair is already tied up in a bun, so it's easy for him to find the hidden zipper of your dress and drag it down.

The sheath dress falls off your shoulders and to the ground and Michael is surprised to see nothing under the dress.

His cock twitches with interest as he remembers you rode your bike here.

As much as he doesn't want to, he keeps his hands to himself.

You step out of the dress and face him again, now only in your high heels.

You start to walk past him, beckoning him to follow with a finger. He's at your heel as you head into the bathroom.

Two towels are already set out and he can't help licking his lips. You've planned all this - what you're going to do to him and he just wants to melt into it. Let you take control.

God, he needs it so much. You're too good for him.

He waits as you turn on the shower, watching as you test the water with your hand. Once it's how hot you want it, you glance over to him. All it takes is a look and he knows what you want.

He goes into the shower, hissing as the spray hits him. It's scorching hot but feels good against his shoulders. He tilts his head down so it centers on the back of his neck, hoping for some relief from the tension.

You step out of your heels and into the shower behind him, your hands going to his shoulders and smoothing down his back. Michael shudders under your touch.

You don't speak as you run your hands over him, digging your nails in just enough that he can feel them. He closes his eyes and tries to focus solely on your touch.The shower feels like a cage, closing in around him. The spray is so loud in his ears and he doesn't like the feeling of the water clinging to his beard, weighing his head down more. Everything is just so much, except for your fingers on skin. They start going higher, dancing up his neck and teasing the ends of his hair.

He doesn't know if seconds pass or hours, but eventually, you start wetting his hair, combing through it until it's slicked back. He hears you uncap a bottle and a moment later you are massaging product into his scalp. You coat his hair in it, then start digging your thumbs into the base of his skull. He leans back into it, inhaling steam into his lungs as he does.

Whatever you are using isn't his normal shampoo. There's a hint of mint to it - nothing overwhelming. He rather likes it. It reminds him of the tea you drink in the mornings - when it's just you and him before everyone else wakes up. When the world is quiet.

When he knows he's happy.

When he knows you're happy.

As you wash his hair, Michael feels the stiffness start to bleed out of his shoulders.

It never feels this good when he showers. You're using your nails and rubbing in little circles and he swears you must be a witch because it's not just the tightness in his body you're washing away, the tightness in his chest is fading. For the first time in hours, it feels like he can breathe.

He lets himself inhale through his nose.

Behind him, you give a pleased purr, "That's my good pup. Let me take care of you. Be good for me. Let go."

Michael hums in response. Letting go would be nice, wouldn't it? He trusts you - the only person outside his family he trusts. You're the only person who's seen him like this - this vulnerable. Others think they have, but they haven't. They haven't come close.

You kiss his shoulder then gently tilt his head back so you can rinse his hair out. It feels nice, the warm water with your fingers. He likes it when you run your fingers through his hair. You only do it when you're alone together, so it's become a little special to him. You always make him feel special.

He doesn't know if he makes you feel special. You put up with so much shite for him. He doesn't do nearly enough for you.

He doesn't deserve you. He doesn't deserve this.

"Shhh, none of that, now," you say, dropping your hand to his shoulders and nudging him to face you. He turns and you put your hands on his shoulders again - stepping forward. He steps back until he's pressed against the shower wall. You stop in front of him. You cup the side of his head and guide it to the nape of your neck. He buries his face into you, arms starting to shake from emotion and restraint.

"You can touch, pup," you whisper into his hair.

Before you even finish giving permission, Michael's arms are around you, clinging to you.

You resume running your fingers through his hair as tears start sliding down his cheeks. He doesn't sob or shake, it's a sort of quiet release. It doesn't hurt and he's not angry - he just breathes deeply through it, letting it happen.

You're holding him. You choose him. You don't sneer or run away. You know who he is - what he is.

He wants to be yours so badly.

And you call him yours.

You slide your free hand between you and wrap it around his cock.

He didn't realize how hard he was and it makes him whimper.

You start to stroke him, from the base, achingly slow up his shaft until you get to his head, which you squeeze just perfectly before starting back down again. Michael groans into your shoulder, dropping his hands so he can squeeze your waist. You tug at his hair a little and he nuzzles against your neck in apology.

You graciously accept and continue dragging your nails over his scalp. You pump his cock at a slow but steady pace.

You're breathing into his ear. All he can smell is mint and you. All he can feel is you - your hands touching the most vulnerable parts of him, your body against his. He darts his tongue out so he can taste the salt on your skin. He wants to be consumed by you.

He is consumed by you.

You cradle him as you stroke him over and Michael is completely lost in the sensations. He wants to stay here like this for however long you will allow. To him, there's nothing outside your arms.

It is you and him.

He wants all of you. He wants to give himself all of you.

You kiss the shell of his ear as you work over his cock and Michael moans your name.

You respond by squeezing at his base, "Being so good for me, Pup. Always so good for me." He shivers at the praise, desperately needing it, needing you. He presses his face more into your neck, tightens his hold on your hips, and even attempts to shuffle impossibly closer. You're practically flush against each other.

"Let me take care of you," you purr against him and he nods, not really processing the words. He trusts whatever you're saying. He trusts you. He needs you.

You press another kiss to his ear, then let go of his cock. An upset noise comes from the back of his throat and you gently shush him again. He rubs his cheek against your shoulder, needing more of you touching him.

"Don't you want this, puppy?" You breathe into his ear, tugging his head by the hair enough he lifts his head up to not be completely hidden against you. You press two fingers against his lips and smear something on them.

It's your own arousal and he greedily sucks your fingers into his mouth, wanting to taste you.

The fact you want this, want him when he's like this, makes his own arousal even more intense. It's a heady feeling, at the base of his skull where you're petting him, and wrapping around his mind like a fog. But it's you, you're the fog, wrapping him up in all of you and it's not anything he wants to fight.

You're taking care of him. You always take care of him.

He wants to take care of you. Be good for you.

Be good to you.

"I think it's time to get out of the shower, puppy," you hum, pulling your fingers from his mouth. He tries to follow them, but the hand in his hair keeps him in place. "You need to put that mouth to good use."

His cock twitches so hard he can feel it and he nods, licking his lips for a lingering taste of you.

"Please?" He asks, his own voice sounding far away to his ears.

You know him so well because you don't let go of him to turn off the shower. Instead of hanging onto his hair, you take his hand again and step away. He doesn't cling. You're not leaving him.

He holds onto your hand and leans back against the cool tile wall. He manages to open his eyes to watch you. You placed the towels so you wouldn't have to leave the shower to get them and when you fully return to him, one is in your hand.

You squeeze his fingers before letting go so you can use both hands to start drying his hair off. He tips his head forward so it's easier for you and for a few moments the towel blocks his vision of you.

It makes his heart flutter nervously, but you are still there. He can feel your hands rubbing around his head through the towel and he can see your feet are only centimeters from his, but you don't have skin to skin contact and he doesn't like that.

But he has to be good for you. He has to be, so he stares hard at a bead of water dripping down your leg.

As he starts to feel his breathing get heavy, you flip the part of the towel covering his face up and back, so it's folded over his head.

You cup both of his cheeks and bring him forward so his forehead is touching yours.

"There's my puppy," you say, a soft little smile on your lips. You look so relaxed and happy and you're touching him again. He feels himself smile back at you as a pleasant calm settles over him again. You reward him with a feather light kiss to the cheek.

You once again take his hand and step out of the shower. He follows, looking down to where you are connected. Your fingers are hooked around his, thumb ghosting over his knuckles.The small comforts you give him make his head spin - he doesn't understand how you always know what he needs.

And right now, Michael needs you.

You lead him back to the bed and with your free hand, point to the ground. He kneels down slower this time, keeping a hold of your hand and nuzzling into it once on the floor. You turn your hand so you can pet his cheek, smoothing your thumb over his skin. He leans into it, tilting his head up to look up at you.

"I have something for you," you purr.

A questioning noise comes from deep in his throat. You hum, your lips turning up into a pretty little smirk. You scritch his chin and step back slowly. He doesn't like you stepping away, but he trusts you to come back. He doesn't want the buzzing in his head to fade.

He doesn't want to be alone with his thoughts. Not like this.

He closes his eyes and waits, because he doesn't want to see you walk away from him.

"You've been so good to me, so good for me, I thought you deserved a little treat. Something special."

He listens to your voice as you go to the closet. You rustle around briefly, then you are back in front of him in a few steps.

Michael opens his eyes when you touch his cheek again. You're holding a slim but large black jewelry box and he doesn't understand how it could be for him. He furrows his brows, tilting his head a little in question and you just smile down at him.

You tilt the box so he has the perfect view as you slowly reveal what is inside. Laying on a bed of deep green velvet are two pieces of matching jewelry.

In the center is a watch. It's sleek and all black and he knows by the brand it is an expensive model. It's a luxury piece, but it isn't showy. It's subtle. He doesn't know a lot about watches, but it's beautiful - it's something he would have picked out for himself if he was in the market for a luxury watch.

Resting around the watch is a necklace - a thick black chain with an O ring in the middle. Like the watch, he can tell it's an expensive piece.

It's not a collar you would have bought down at the local sex shop.

Because it is a collar. You're presenting him with a collar and it is making his mind spin.

He wants to be yours so badly, to submit himself to you fully, but a collar is a lot. He knows it is a lot and his Pride wants to fight it. He can't even imagine what his family would say.

But he wants to wear it for you. You got it for him and you want him to be Yours and that thought alone has his cock weeping.

"Can I put it on you?"

Michael nods, his mouth going dry and throat going tight.

He wants it. If he doesn't like it, he trusts you to remove it, he knows you will, but he wants to feel it around his neck. He wants to know what it feels like to be truly yours.

You place the box on the bed so you can lift the collar up. It feels like he's watching you in slow motion and all he can focus on is your fingers around the chair.

He wants them on his skin instead.

There's no closure on the collar and it just barely slips over his head. You rest it around his neck and the O-ring rests just above his collar bone. It's heavy, much heavier than he expected it to be. It's not a weight he'd be able to ignore - he'll always know it's there.

He'll always know he belongs to you. That you want him. That you need him in the same way he needs you. That despite everything he has done, everything you've seen about him, you still choose him.

His fingers shake as he reaches up to feel where the chain rests. It's so cool against his hot skin. It sits loosely, not constructing his neck or making it hard to breathe. It feels Good.

His attention is pulled away from the collar as you remove the watch from the gift box. You hold out your hand in front of his face and it takes a moment to process what you want from him.

Michael places his left hand in yours and you slip the watch onto his wrist. It's heavy like the collar - he won't forget it's there.

"The collar," you hum, latching the watch so it's snug, "is for just us, but this is for always, my pup. So you always know you are mine, every hour of every day."

You bend down so you are face to face and cup his in both of your hands, smoothing your thumbs over his beard, "what do you think, Puppy? Do you like what I got you?"

He doesn't know how to answer. His throat is getting tighter and burning and he wants to scream and cry because _yes_ . He loves what you got him. So very very much. He just doesn't know how to express it. It's all too much and not enough. He tries to give a shaky nod, but all he manages to do is press his face into your palms with a whimper.

It isn't until you kiss away his tears does Michael realize he's crying.

You brush your nose over his and part of him wants to just bury his face into your shoulder again.

You have other plans for him - one hand wraps around his cock again and it sends a full body shudder through him. You use the heel of your hand to smear precum over the head of his cock, teasing with the pressure but not giving him the pleasure. His hips start twitching and he wants so much to fuck up into your hand.

But he wants to be good for you, so good, deserve his collar and what you do to him, so he tries his best to not move. He closes his eyes and lets you consume him again.

It's easy for him to sink into your light. The buzzing and headyness are taking over his skull again and it's just as good as any high he's ever had. All other sensations are lost and all Michael feels is your hands on him and the cool metal hanging around his neck.

It's perfect. It's so fucking perfect and good and you finally, finally, curl your fingers around him again and pump. The tightness is coiling in his belly and his thighs are starting to shake.

He's so close.

He's so close but then you take your hand away again and he wants to sob.

You start to stand again, but you lean in so you bump against him as you raise. Your chin brushes his nose, then your sternum, and Michael groans and leans a little bit forward so his lips drag over your stomach. When you're fully standing, your cunt is just in front of him.

His cock is so hard and leaking everywhere but none of it matters - not when you're asking this of him.

Michael tilts his head back, and he feels like he's praying up to you.

"Please?"

You put your leg over his shoulder, and using the hand still cupping his cheek, guide him to your core.

Your cunt is dripping wet and Michael wastes no time burying his face into you.

"Good boy," you moan, pushing your hand up to thread your fingers through his hair. Your grip is tight, but he doesn't care because he's where he should be. Where he wants to be.

He rubs his nose over your clit a few times before nuzzling down. He just wants to breathe in deeply but he's so greedy that he can't wait and buries his tongue inside you.

You tug him even closer into you and he reaches up one arm to wrap around the leg on his shoulder. His fingers dig into your thigh, half to cling desperately to you, half to help hold you up. The hand not holding onto his hair drops to hold onto his arm and your nails bite into his flesh.

Michael eats you out like a man starving because that is what he is. He's starving for you. Your juices are soaking into his beard and all he cares about is More.

More of you. More for you. More You.

If you want to ride his face until the sun rises tomorrow, then he will be on his knees all night for you.

He fucks his tongue in and out of you, wanting to prove you aren't wrong to want him. He wants to show you how good he can be for you.

You're the one who deserves to cum, not him.

You start to grind your cunt into Michael's mouth. His other hand shoots up to grab onto your hip, encouraging the motions. He wants you to use him. He wants to beg for it but that would mean removing his mouth from you, and that's something he won't do unless you direct it. He's yours and he will do whatever you ask, and right now you want his mouth on your cunt.

He drinks greedily from you, helping you keep balance as you use him. It's not harsh, you're enjoying him. Your soft breathy moans are going straight through him and his cock twitches hard with each one.

He dares to open his eyes. You're looking down at him, looking blissed out as he feels.

He moans loudly when he feels your legs start to shake and tightens his grip on your hip and thigh, pulling you even closer. You hunch over him and you push your hand through his hair to the back of his neck. You start to grip the hairs there, but then your hand drops and grabs onto his collar.

You yank on it and Michael's vision goes white.

It feels like he's fucking floating. His toes are curled so tightly it hurts but in a fucked up good way.

He knows your legs give out and you crumble into his lap, and the sudden change causes him to topple you both over, but it's like he's not aware of it. All his fucked out mind thinks is he can press his face into your neck again.

You roll so both of you are on your sides, legs tangled together. You move his arms so they are wrapping around you loosely, then cradle his head to your neck. He hugs himself to you on instinct and buries his face into you.

You hold him, one hand cupping the back of his neck, still holding the collar, the other tracing up and down his back.

He can feel it, on the edge of his haze, the soothing motions of your fingers. Part of him wants to give into the haze, follow it until he falls asleep. It's such a strong urge.

But he wants to be with you more. Like this. Wrapped in each other, nothing else in the world mattering.

He can feel you smiling against his temple.

He did that. He made you smile like that - from his mouth, his hands, his actions.

He just feels warmth radiating through him.

He doesn't know how long you lay there on the floor, but eventually his hip starts to hurt and that pulls his mind away from the lazy way you were petting his spine.

Michael turns his head so he can kiss your cheek while rolling you onto your back. Once he's over you, he presses his forehead to yours and smiles sleepily down at you. You return his smile with your own.

"Hey there," you whisper, stopping your motions so you can cup his jaw. "How're you feeling?"

He gives a pleased hum in response and nuzzles his nose against yours. Your smile grows and you close your eyes.

You just barely put pressure on his jaw and guide him down to kiss you.

It's slow. He still feels calm and hazy and he wants to stay in it a bit longer with you. You're on the same page as him - you keep the kiss nice and lazy.

You hum against his lips and he pulls back just enough so you can speak, "Don't think I'm done with you yet."

"Yeah?" He asks, starting to pepper sweet kisses over your cheeks and chin. You melt under him, just a little bit, giving a happy sigh.

He takes the opportunity to start kissing down your jaw to your neck. He starts sucking a mark into you and you tilt your head to give him more access. It is a gift and he treats it as such, taking his time to enjoy you. The salt on your skin tastes so good on his tongue, where it's mixed with your juices. He lives for this raw essence of you.

Michael starts to slide down you, intent on getting your nipple into his mouth, but you give the faintest tug on the chain around his neck. His head snaps up to look at you.

You're looking at him through your lashes, a hint of amusement in your pretty eyes.

"The floor isn't very comfortable, Michael," you tease, dropping your hand away from him.

He licks his lips and pushes himself up so he is kneeling between your legs. As he stands, he helps you up and as soon as you are in front of him, his hands go to your waist. You loop your arms around his shoulders while leaning forward so he is supporting your weight.

"Can I take ya to bed?"

You push up on your toes so you can give him a sweet peck on the lips, before whispering against him, "No."

Michael furrows his brows, confused. You kiss him again.

"But since you've been so good, I'll let you follow me into it."

You drag your nails across his back as you step away from him, stretching your arms out to put distance between you. He doesn't want that, so he tightens his grip on you and closes the gap, stepping into your space again.

You smirk at his silent challenge. You hook a finger through the O-ring around his neck and lean in until your lips are barely brushing his.

"I said I'm not done with you, yet, Michael Kinsella. Don't make me change my mind."

He feels his cock start to twitch back to life with that and can't help the grin starting to spread across his face.

"So how do ya want me?"

You tilt your head towards the bed and he huffs a little laugh, "Aye." He drops his hands from you and lets you go to the bed. You sit on the mattress, then scoot back until you're fully on it and at the head of the bed.

Michael waits until you are settled then climbs onto the bed and kneels by your feet. You lazily drag your eyes over him, sizing him up like you plan to devour him.

You probably do.

He's already half hard at the thought.

He wants to lean in and kiss you. He wants to show you how thankful he is for you, what you have done for him, but as you said, you aren't done with him, yet.

Michael's more alert now - the feelings of drowning in his thoughts long gone and the wonderful drop you gave him fading away. He wants you. He wants you in every way you'll allow him.

He's yours, heart and soul and body, and you are his. He wants to remind the world of that. He wants to mark you and fill you and claim you in every way that matters - to the world, to his family, to you.

You lounge there, like you are waiting for him to make a move, but he won't. You told him to behave and even though he's itching to do just the opposite, he'll do as he's told.

Michael's usually the one more in charge in the bedroom and this dynamic is still new and he doesn't want to mess it up. He didn't know how much he needed it until you proposed putting him on his knees and now he doesn't know if he could live without it. He wants to be your Pup, now and forever.

You turn from him and arrange the pillows so you can lean back and be slightly propped up as well. You take your time with it and he enjoys just watching you, even if it is a tease.

You finally lay back and relax into the pillows. You go back to looking him up and down and while you do, you spread your legs.

Michael leans forward so he can crawl on his hands and knees around your leg to get around it. He can't help but smile up at you.

You reach for him and he very eagerly goes to you. You once again guide him towards you. He keeps his hands on the bed as he leans in to kiss you.

"Woof," he whispers as your lips meet.

You huff in fondness before he surges in to deepen the kiss. You melt under him, parting your lips for him and sinking down into your pillows, but he knows better than to think he's in charge. He just needs to be closer to you and you're allowing it.

Michael resists the urge to grind his hips against yours. He's already worked up again, cock bobbing against his stomach, but he wants to take his time getting you to the same level. He's yours, and he'll do whatever you desire, but after you did such a good job caring for him, he wants to return the favor.

He kisses down to your neck, nipping lightly as he does. It earns him a pleased sigh. Your fingers find their way to his hair, carding through it again. He's careful to not leave more marks, not because you don't like them, but because you haven't given him the permission again.

Right now he just wants to touch and feel and be Yours.

He bends his elbows so he can kiss down your chest without putting any of his weight on you. He nuzzles at your breasts, teasing your nipples with his tongue, but continues his path down instead of latching onto them. Michael wants his face between your thighs again and he doesn't want to wait. You don't redirect him, just drag your nails over his skull.

"Yer fuckin' perfect," he whispers as he lowers himself to lay on the covers. You put your legs over his shoulders and he turns his head so he can kiss your inner thigh, unable to stop the smile forming on his lips. He drags his lips down until he can nose at your slit.

You're still so very wet given neither of you even attempted to clean up. He makes sure to get your juices all over his mouth, in his mouth. He wants to waste none of it, and once he's licked it all up, he finally starts towards your clit. You give a little whine when he first nudges it and part of him wants to tease, listen to all your pleading little noises because he's so addicted to them, but the weight of the chain hanging from his neck reminds him of his place.

Michael finally sucks your bud into his mouth and the moan you give is music to his ears. He wants so badly to make you fall apart, to thank you for pulling him out of the darkness he was starting to drown in.

"Michael," you gasp, arching your back just slightly and he has to resist grinding into the sheets like a teenager.

He squirms a little to get more comfortable, repositioning his arms to hold your hips up just enough where he has the perfect angle to worship your cunt without making his neck ache.

And worship Michael does.

You grip his hair just enough he can feel it but it doesn't hurt and when he does something you like, your fingers curl and you scratch his head. He knows it's developing into something for him, because every time you do it his dick jumps.

Between the two of you, his comforter is going to be soaked with your juices and his pre-cum.

He growls at the thought and pulls you closer. You moan, digging your heels into his shoulder blades so you can push your hips up.

He gets up into a kneel, gripping your hips to raise you up with him. Your knees go over his shoulders and he slides one hand to the small of your back to hold you up. You gasp at the sudden change but trust him to hold you up. Your thighs start to shake around his head.

"Fuck, Princess," Michael groans when you rock into mouth.

The hand not holding you up comes up over your belly and down to your clit. His thumb takes over for his mouth and he starts to fuck you with his tongue.

You taste so fucking good and your noises are just spurring him on.

Your hand is so tight in his hair in the most perfect of ways. It's keeping him right against your cunt. He couldn't ask for anything more perfect. You are starting to pant and gasp. Your walls are pulsing around him and all he can do is chase your noises.

For the second time that night you come on his tongue. He only pulls away when you tug at his hair.

Despite how Hungry he is for you and his cock being so hard he feels like he wants to scream, he lowers you down to the bed with all the care in the world.

He kisses your calf as he removes it from his shoulder.

You relax into the bed, twisting a little to stretch out, a happy smile on your lips - enjoying the afterglow of your orgasm. He drinks in the sight of you and it makes his heart soar.

You look so fucking beautiful and when you smile up at him, his brain just tells him to get closer to you.

Michael crawls forward until he can oh so gently kiss your lips.

"Good boy," you purr, cupping his jaw and using your thumb to pet his cheek. "My good boy."

"I need ya, Princess," he says, pressing into your touch, "please let me have ya. Need to feel ya around my cock. Need all of ya."

You hum against him then take his bottom lip between your teeth to tease before releasing again, "Need you, too. Fuck me, Michael. Fuck me like you mean it."

He doesn't need to be told twice.

He reaches between you so he can guide his cock to your opening. He rubs his head over your slit, getting himself nice and slick with your juices before starting to sink into you.

You're so perfectly tight and start squeezing around him before he can fully sheath himself in you.

"Gonna cum if ya keep that up," Michael grinds out, trying to keep control of himself. He wants to bury himself in you, but he doesn't want to hurt you.

"Want that, Puppy," you pull him back into a sweet kiss and you're biting at his lips again, "Want you to fill me up 'til it's leaking out of me. Want you to fuck me 'til there's nothing left in you to pump into me. Hear me? Can you do that for me, Puppy?"

Michael swears and rocks the rest of the way into you, only to pull back out halfway so he can slam back into you.

You want to be fucked and nothing is going to keep him from giving you just that.

The pace he sets is brutal.

But it's what you want and as he fucks you, you push the pillows down the bed until they are under your hips. The angle changes and he can bury himself even deeper into you. He growls out your name, tilting his hips as he pounds into you until his cock starts dragging across that sweet spot inside you.

"Right there, Michael, puppy, my puppy, right there," you start to chant, wrapping your legs around his waist to keep him deep in you.

He nods, sweat starting to drip down his face and arms. "Whatever ya want, love, I'm yours. Yours," he pants, words just falling out of him.

One of your hands grips onto his bicep, nails digging into his flesh so hard it sends jolts down his spine. He gives a hard thrust in response and you cry out again. Your walls are squeezing him, pulling him deeper into you, and he just wants more.

He needs to feel you come undone around him.

Michael's hand goes to your throat, wrapping around it and squeezing.

Your entire body goes rigid as your orgasm rips through you. The headboard bounces off the wall repeatedly as he fucks you through it, but the loud thuds are covered by you screaming his name.

You're going to wake the whole damn neighborhood and the mere idea of it gives him a third wind.

He wants everyone to hear you. To know what he does to you. What you bring out of him.

Michael is so lost in you, in making you feel like you're on another world, he doesn't notice your hands go up to his shoulders until you grab onto him. With a sudden movement, you roll, flipping your positions so he is under you. You snatch the wrist of the hand around your throat and pin it to the bed right above his head, that hungry hungry look back in your eyes.

He is still inside you somehow and you purposefully squeeze around him. He rolls his head back with a loud groan, "Fuck, pet. Are ya trying to kill me?"

You drag your nails down his chest, digging in enough to leave angry red scratches. Michael hisses, the pain making his dick twitch inside you. You lean down so you can bump your nose against his, a wicked smile playing across your lips, and whisper against his lips, "I'm not your pet tonight, Michael. You're mine."

He almost loses it right then, needing to close his eyes tightly so he doesn't come before you are through with him.

"Put your other hand up, Puppy. Can't have you touching me again without my say so."

He easily obeys, throwing his other hand above his head. You cross his wrists and pushing them down into the bed with one hand.

"I'm sorry," he chokes out, having to focus so he doesn't buck up inside of you.

Your other hand crawls up and you press it down on his throat, enough he can feel the weight of you, but there is no danger of you hurting him.

You so very slowly start to swirl your hips and Michael throws his head back. You know just how to work him - taking your time in teasing him. You're keeping him fully in you, just grinding your cunt against him. It is completely agonizing in the best of ways. He could spend forever like this and be over the moon with it.

Your lips brush his as you begin to speak in a hushed but authoritative tone.

"You belong to me, Michael Kinsella. Isn't that what you promised me?"

He tries his best to nod, but your hand keeps him in his place, "Aye, yes, I did. I promised ya. I'm yours. I'm yours."

You bite his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.

His thighs start to shake. It's taking Everything in him to not flip you over and fuck you into the mattress.

"What was the condition? What was the condition that I get to put Michael Fuckin' Kinsella on his knees and call him My Puppy?"

"That ya be Mine. I needed ya to be mine."

"So make me yours, Michael."

He flips you over and fucks you into the mattress.

He buries his hands into your hair, gripping it and tugging enough to make you cry out again. You squeeze around him and he nearly sees stars.

He smashes your lips together and all teeth and hunger and Possessive.

You're his.

You've seen all of him, every side of him, the happy, the sad, the anger, the blankness, the coked out of his mind, and quiet somber mornings. You've seen him beaten with a bat and held him after he spent the nights taking lives.

And you're still his.

"Michael, please!"

Your cunt clenches around him and you start to milk him as he starts to spill into you. He fucks you until he's completely spent, then all of his strength leaves him and he collapses down onto you.

You catch him with a happy little noise and bury your nose into his hair.

He still has enough awareness to pull out of you and roll over onto the bed so he won't crush you. You tuck yourself against him, throwing your arm over his chest and resting your head there with the most content sigh. He wraps his arm around you, holding you close against him.

The moment he closes his eyes, Michael knows he's going to be asleep. When he looks down at you, he sees you are almost there. You look so peaceful and happy and it makes his heart soar.

He presses his lips to your forehead.

"Thank ya, Princess."

You tilt your head up, eyes just cracking open and smile up at him.

"Thank you, Puppy."

And that's all you need to say between you.

You close your eyes at the same time as Michael and he drifts off without a single thought.

a/n: I posted this previously but realized i never posted it on tumblr, so im throwing it out there while I'm unable to write for ATIMY.

#soulie writes #fanfiction #kin #michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x you #repost #i never posted it to tumblr

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