How to Get Away With Murder
Michael Myers x Male reader
TW⚠️: many mentions of murder, many mentions of blood, Michael very low key-ly having a blood kink at the end, y/n is a little murdery, male oc (his name is Scotty, he's you've very supportive but terrified best friend.) mentions of drinking and being hungover.
Word count: 3566
Requested by @molstkiwi: hello :)) could i request michael myers x masc male reader, where y/n has been an on and off partner of myers (the murderer just sorta inserts himself into y/n's life whenever he feels like it) and one day he asks michael if he could teach him how to kill?
Despite what most people thought, Michael Myers isn’t invincible. Immortal, maybe, but he’s still susceptible to pain. Which is how he ended up at your house.
The night after Halloween, you were still mildly hung over from the little get together you and your friends had the night before. You laid lazily on your couch, a bag of chips resting on your chest as you looked through Netflix to find something interesting.
Somewhere in the house you heard creaking, immediately you sat up, turning off the tv, listening for anything in the previous dead silent house. A few more creaks sounded, getting closer and closer to you, your heart was beating out of control, but suddenly they stopped.
You nearly jumped out of your skin a few seconds later when a giant thud came from upstairs.
Immediately, you grabbed your phone and video called your best friend. He squinted at the blaring light of his phone as soon as he answered, he still looked a bit messed up from the night before.
“Y/n? What the hell, man-” he groaned.
“There’s someone in my house..” you whispered.
He stared at you in completely disbelief.
“Scotty, I'm fucking serious! There's someone in my goddamn house!”
The moment he saw the truly panicked look on your face he knew you were serious.
“Fuck man, why didn't you call the police?”
“And wait an hour and a half for them to get here while someone is already inside the fucking house, I could be dead by the time they get here..”
“So you called me instead?!”
“If anything happens I need you to be a witness..”
“Fuck, that so fucked up.”
“I know, I'm sorry..”
After sitting in silence for a moment you made your way to the kitchen as quietly as you could.
“The fuck are you doing?” Scotty whispered, despite your phone being one volume bar away from being muted.
“I can't just sit here empty-handed..”
Carefully, you grabbed two knives out of their wooden holder, holding one in your hand and the other in your front pocket, along with the hefty rolling pin you kept on your counter, shoving your phone down the front of your pants, having Scotty facing outward.
“Okay, I'm going upstairs..”
“What? No! That's a horrible idea, have you never seen a horror movie? The brave bitch always dies!”
Deciding to bring shitty humor to the terrifying moment you said, “I’m built different, I'll be fine.”
“No, you won't!”
Slowly, you made your way back to the living room, then up the stairs, knife in one hand and rolling pin in the other. Luckily, you forgot to turn the upstairs lights off when you migrated downstairs, making the utterly horrifying trip up a bit less scary.
As soon as you reached the top you saw what apparently made the thud. Either the real Michael-fucking-Myers was bleeding out on your carpet or somebody was pulling a shitty prank.
“What the fuck?” Scotty muttered.
A long moment of silence passed, you just…stared at him. Okay, maybe this is just a very bad prank, a surprisingly put-together one considering that almost all of your friends should definitely still be hung over. Maybe one of your friends decided to just...come lay on your floor. Despite the foul, rusted smell that only blood or many, many pennies could make filling the room, you reached down to grab the iconically horrifying mask, only to be caught in the tight grip of the man who you previously thought was either one of your friends or a dead serial killer. His almost crushing grip around your wrist loosened in a moment as his body once again went limp.
Okay, gonna take a chance and assume that a serial killer was dying on your floor.
“Fuck no, y/n get the hell out of the house.”
Staring at the man a moment longer, noticing how even in his unconscious state he seemed to be guarding his side, albeit very discreetly. “I think he's hurt..”
“Good, it's time for you to skedaddle!”
“But...look at him. I'd feel bad if he died…”
“He wouldn't give a shit if you died, so it's time for you to go!”
Squatting next to the man, watching as his chest heaved heavily.
“Alright, come on big guy..” you muttered, standing before gracing both of the giant man's feet and dragging him to your bedroom.
“Oh my God, you're insane! You have officially lost all of your marbles!”
“Maybe…”
It took a while to get the injured man onto your bed(after taking everything off of it, leaving nothing but a bare mattress on the frame). It was quickly covered in his blood.
Taking your phone out of your pants and propping it up against the lamp on your nightstand, letting your very disappointed best friend see what you were doing.
“Every day you achieve a new level of idiocracy..”
“I know, thank you..”
You unbuttoned his deep blue jumpsuit, your fingers almost immediately coated in his blood.
“Fucking hell..” you muttered as the man stirred under you.
Moving the drenched fabric out of the way to get a better look at the wound, quickly snatching your pillow cover off of your pillow to wipe up the blood, the cut wasn't bad, honestly, he just needed a few stitches. Luckily, you had youtube and a hand-me-down sewing kit with impossibly strong thread.
_____________________
It took an hour and a half (with a short break in the middle to go get your phone charger) but you'd done some pretty neat looking stitches. Well, neat looking for a man that's never done them..
“Shit that was stressful..” Scotty sighed.
“Bitch-” you said, looking over to your phone. “You're not even here.”
“Y/n, you're my best friend and I love you but I will never be the dumb bitch in a horror move. Sending my love, but keeping my distance, dude.”
You let out a short laugh, “I appreciate it,”
Your eyes trailed over to the abundance of blood everywhere.
“Fuck, I'm going to need so much peroxide..”
“Suck to be you..”
“Fuck off.”
_____________________
One outfit change and a trip to the store later you had approximately 9 bottles of peroxide. You hoped it was enough.
Filling a bucket with cold water, mixing a bit of clothes detergent in, you hauled it to the stairs to the stained carpet, pouring a bit on the floor before emptying a bottle of peroxide over it. Watching it heat and bubble with pinkish bubbles before dispersing, leaving a very faded mark behind. Nothing more peroxide couldn't handle.
After getting the majority of the blood out with peroxide you scrubbed with the detergent mixture until the floor was spotless, then you went over it with peroxide again and then detergent again, just to be sure.
Going throughout the house, finding the window he apparently climbed through and scrubbing the blood off.
Heading back to your room you looked over the man one more time, he hadn't moved, he was stiff as a board.
Bundling up the bloody sheets and tossing them into your washer, with more peroxide of course. Now for the challenging part, getting the clothes off the sleeping mass murderer.
The top was already unbuttoned, so all that you needed to do was pull it off of him.
Slowly, you untied his shoes, slipping them off and tossing them to the side. He didn't move an inch, you looked up, the steady rising and falling of his chest told you he was still alive, just in deep sleep. Moving up you pulled one of his arms out of its sleeve, then moved to the other side and pulled off the other.
“Okay, top half done.”
“Someone's going to walk in and think I’m watching some very strange porn..”
“Shut up.”
You pulled the pants half off in one hard pull, luckily for you, he was wearing underwear, and even luckier, he was still asleep.
Balling the jumpsuit up, you decided to leave his stained white shirt on him, mostly for your own comfort, tossing it into the washer with the other bloodied clothes, adding more peroxide and detergent before starting it.
You let out a tired sigh, you've been cleaning for hours. The sun would be coming up soon and you hadn't gotten any sleep. Thankfully, you had your best friend to share the experience with you.
After taking off your own clothes, not covered in blood, but sweat, you got in the shower, placing your phone face down on the counter, hearing Scotty talking as you cleaned yourself. Getting out and putting a fresh set of clothes on before picking your phone and going to check on your soundly sleeping mass murderer.
You wanted to reach over and take off his mask but decided against it.
Hearing Scotty let out his second long loud yawn in the past five minutes you picked up your phone.
“Hey, you can go to bed if you're tired..”
“No, no I'm-” he interrupted himself with another yawn, “-fine.”
“Go to bed Scott.”
After a long moment of silence, he sighed, “Fine, but text me every 30 -no- 15 minutes, okay?”
“Okay, I will. ‘Night Scotty.”
“Good Night y/n..”
The 9-hour call finally came to an end.
Placing your phone on the bedside table.
Glancing back over at Michael, still resting stiffly on your bed. It felt...weird, leaving him without pants. You've slept with a few bulkier guys, maybe you had some pants that would fit him, something so he wasn't just laying there in his underwear.
Scavenging through your drawers you find what you were looking for, large, plain, black sweats.
Getting them on him was easy, it was like dressing a very big doll because of how stiff he was.
You turned, picking up your phone to text Scotty only to suddenly be grabbed from behind. A large hand wrapped around your neck. The air knocked out of your lungs as you were slammed into the floor.
There he was, holding himself above you, his expressionless mask staring down at you. Michael Myers, fully awake and seconds from killing you.
After all the hard work you did, you were going to die. God, life fucking sucked.
You gasped for air as his grip wavered around your throat. As you began to feel lightheaded the pressure was suddenly gone. Opening your eyes, you looked up at the masked man, panting heavily.
You stared at each other silently. Watching him, surprisingly, back away from you. A second later you stood, your legs shaking so badly that you had to brace yourself on your nightstand.
You don't know how many minutes passed of you two just sitting and staring at each other.
The sudden ding of the washer in the other room made you break eye contact with Michael. You were spared, not knowing what else to do, you walked out of the room to the spot in the hallway where your washer and dryer were.
Michael followed you, standing a few feet away from you, just...watching.
With shaking hands, you loaded the now clean, wet clothes into the dryer, dropping in a few dryer sheets before starting it.
You looked over at him, trying to calm your racing heart.
“Your clothes will be dry in 30 minutes,” you muttered out, not knowing what else to say.
Surprisingly, he nodded then turned and walked back to your room.
The 30 minutes passed slowly, you let out a relieved sigh as the dryer dinged, you rushed over to it, ignoring everything else inside and pulling out his dark blue jumpsuit. He was, once again, only a few feet away from you.
Handing him his clothes you watched nervously as he took off the sweats you put on him and dropped them on the floor, putting on his signature blue jumpsuit. Then he turned, heading towards the stairs.
And for a moment you'd forgotten who the hell you were dealing with.
“You're just going to leave them on the floor?” you muttered a bit too loudly.
Fear struck your body as he stopped, turning back around and walking back towards you. Without saying a word he picked the sweats up off the ground before heading down the stairs. It wasn't until you heard your backdoor slam that you knew he was gone.
_____________________
You didn't see Michael again until two months later, he was in your house when you got home from work. Just...standing there, in your living room.
“Michael..” you muttered, closing the door behind you.
This was the first time seeing him in months, but he's been in your house and you knew it. It started with your knives, one by one disappearing only to be replaced by similar ones. But you knew they weren't the same.
Then, your pillow cases disappeared. Only to be found a few weeks later, in your previously empty in your washer, covered in blood. Why he was taking them, you don't know.
And just yesterday you found a bloody knife just lying in the middle of your bed when you got home. Which pissed you off to no end because you were ready to go to sleep, you ended up sleeping on the couch and cleaning up in the morning.
You were used to his mischief by now, but you definitely weren't prepared to see him in your living room.
He didn't say a single word, not that he ever had in the time that you've known him, taking a few steps forward, you took some back until your back hit the door.
Standing over you, he was completely unarmed. But he's a big man, he didn't need to be armed to hurt you.
Panic filled your mind as he raised his hand to you, instinctively flinching back, your head slamming against the door.
Once again surprising you, he lowered his hand, staring at you before eventually turning and leaving.
_____________________
That's how your first few meetings went with Michael, you’d come home or wake up and he’d already be there, waiting for you, he’d get uncomfortably close, then he’d leave.
It took a while but eventually you got used to him being in your home.
It wasn’t until he started acting…regular...That you became weary. He’d come over at odd times or just appear in your house still, but instead of just standing in your personal space for a minute then leaving he’d sit with you, or at least near you. He’d sit with you while you ate, while you got dressed, while you watched TV. Like he’d become more comfortable, the same way you had.
Soon your familiarity with the man turned to fondness, which(faster than anyone would have liked) turned to adoration.
Once you realized it you wanted to bang your head against the wall. After collecting yourself, you told Scott.
“No-”
“Shut up-”
“There’s no way!”
“Clearly there is!”
Scott’s loud laughter and wheezing played loudly through your room.
“Oh this is hilarious! Top tear comedy! Honestly, you're going straight to jail, horny jail! He kills people and you decided that was hot, god we are truly unfortunate.”
Letting out a long sigh you asked, “should I...say something to him?”
“To the mass murder that regularly breaks into your house? I don't know, maybe..”
“You’re not helping..”
You watched as he typed away at his computer, glazing down at his phone -at you- through the screen every so often.
“Listen, I’ve never been in this situation before, neither have you. The only thing I can say is…go for it. Honestly the worst that can happen is you die, which is a chance you take everyday by not calling the police on him.”
“True.”
“So if you want him, ask him out, or whatever weird mating ritual you want to go through, just be safe with it.”
“Alright…I appreciate your mildly okay advice.”
“It's what I'm here for.”
_____________________
You didn't see Michael for another month after that, a regular occurrence between the two of you. But when he came back, he knew something was off. He may not be good at reading people but he could tell something was bothering you.
It finally came out while you were watching TV together. Well, you were watching tv, he, as always, was watching you.
“Michael..” you started, still staring at the TV, “I don't know how to tell you this without sounding 12 but… I care about you, a lot. And I like hanging out around you, even if you are just sitting there watching me, and you're...around me a lot so I thought maybe we could try...dating?”
God, you sounded 12.
And as always, he was silent. You couldn't look at him, even though you couldn't see his face and wouldn’t be able to tell his reaction, you still couldn’t.
It wasn’t until you felt a weight set over your hand that you looked. Michael Myers, mass murderer, The Shape of Haddonfield, was holding your hand. Looking up at Michael only to see, for the first time since you’ve known each other, he wasn’t staring at you. Just staring straight ahead, not even looking at the tv, just at the wall.
Okay, this just may be the start of something new.
_____________________
It was easy to forget what Michael did -does- when he’s not with you. With you he was your sensitive little sweetheart, but that’s not how the rest of Haddonfield knew him.
Almost a year into your relationship- Halloween was coming around again, meaning Michael was more active, getting ready for his big Halloween spree, a sign to the people of Haddonfield that he’s coming.
He was faster than usual, but that also means he was sloppier than usual, not with his killing, no that was his love, his passion, not a damn thing could keep him from it. No, he’s been unfortunately, leading people to your house whenever he’s done for the night. 3 people had come so far, and with Halloween only 4 nights away, more and more people would be coming after him, and in relation, you.
He’d taken care of 2 of them, the 3rd tried to warn you about him but you convinced him that he must have followed him to the wrong house, but you’d be careful, all while Michael stood behind the door, memorizing the man’s voice so he’d be a bit easier to find later.
The next night(October 29th) you bought a taser, these people were getting into your house a bit too easily, you needed protection for when Michael wasn't there.
Michael quickly deemed it useless because it was gone from your drawer later that same night.
By the time October 30th rolled around people kept showing up at your house, rumors circulated around town, rumors that only pissed more and more people off. They were angry and mourning and understandably they needed someone to be mad at, but why you? Yes, you may be dating their child and/or parent and/or sibling and/or best friend and/or spouse’s murderer but that honestly wasn't your problem. That’s their problem that they are trying to make your problem.
Which sucked ass. But not as much as what they're doing to Michael.
While some became fearful as Halloween approached, some just got brave, brave and stupid, but brave nonetheless. And brave idiots with guns left you with a Michael full of bullets. He’d try to hide it from you, but that never worked long, most of the time you spent together was you fixing him up.
It pissed you off, more than the rumors, more than people showing up in your house. You couldn't keep letting them get away with this.
You stayed up all night thinking about it, you probably should have thought about it way longer but you had one night before Michael disappeared again, you weren't going to waste it.
You waited until the night of Halloween to ask him about it.
“Michael, you know how you murder people?”
He had no reaction, still just staring at you.
“Well, I was just thinking maybe you could teach me, ya know, to get a little stabby..”
This was stupid, he was going to say no, you thought.
But in truth Michael was ecstatic, only on the inside of course. He loved you, he loved killing, but you killing added a whole new sensation to your relationship. He’d go to any length to see you covered in your victim's blood after a spree, red truly was your color.
But, as always he stayed silent.
It wasn't until that night that you got your answer.
Laying on top of your bed was a shitty Halloween mask and a knife. Not one of Michael or even one of yours. It was nice -very sharp-(Michael wanted your first knife to be special, so he stole the nicest one from one of his victim's houses for you, because he loved you.)
Surprisingly gentle hands turned you around by the waist.
“Michael, do you want me to...go out with you tonight.”
Very slowly, he nodded.
“Oh, okay. And we’re going to murder people right?”
He nodded again.
“Okay, cool, cool, cool,” you muttered under your breath, still a bit nervous.
“So, where do we start?”
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This is gonna be a flashback chapter. How our babies met because I remember a few people had forgotten. Had to have one of these eventually, right?
Part 21: Introduction
Should I download Tinder?
Glee plays from the firestick, the scene where they're all walking and singing How Will I Know.
I should.
Laying cozied into the couch in a faded t'shirt with the tiniest pink shorts, your head rests on the butt cushion and your feet dangle over the arm as you hold your phone up in the air over your face.
"How will I know?.. How will I knoow..," you mumble along with the crew. You've heard the Glee version of this Whitney classic at least 8 times.
No, but what if I do and someone recognizes me? Someone I work with? What if my family is on Tinder? I'd die.
You put the phone down on your belly and pick up your apple juice from the coffee table, doing a sit up to sip.
Mm. You wipe your mouth nearly spilling. But if they're on there too then they shouldn't comment on what I'm doing, right? We'd ignore each other's presence and continue like ships passing in the night. So technically I should be able to download this app with no blowback.
Picking the phone up, you hit download and open the app. It immediately asks for your information and won't let you skip. Not even your location. You fall back down to your back raising the phone up again.
But what if someone's a serial killer?Would they look for me? No, that won't happen and I could tell if they were psychotic..
Tapping the download button, you go through the steps to set up an account including giving them access to your location and posting a headshot from a selfie. Scrolling through your gallery for more decent pics to post, you decide one's enough and upload a full body photo so that whoever meets you will know who they're meeting, no surprises.
Inputting your information, you decide to write into your blurb that you're looking for some awesome friends, specifically a movie buddy. In reality, the activity doesn't matter you just crave human attention and closeness. Any decent, polite, nice, smart, funny, left wing, hopefully attractive, young, black human.. possibly male.. will do. Not that you're picky. In the meantime, you swipe right on everyone black nearby, men and women. Somebody's gotta respond. Someone sane who wants to meet. Shockingly there are a lot of pretty people. Unfortunately the app only gives you one super like.. a blue star which you decide to save.
Giddily you head over to your match tab and see four matches. Drew P seems nice. Ashley J looks stylish. G Papa looks like he lives in a Freaknik video. Pussy Hunter is just nasty. Your nose twitches as you shamefully start conversations with all four. When neither responds right away you return to swiping and a notification says you've been super liked, but you can't access who super liked without paying money. You're not doing that so you just go back to the bios and swipe right until you get a reply.
Wyd, Pussy Hunter writes.
Bored, watching movies. You?
You gotta fat ass
Um. Thanks?
Netflix and chill?🙈
Netflix and Netflix. We can talk and hang out..
So no chill
No sex, but we can hang out and do something else
After 5 minutes, you realize he's not going to write you back. You start to swipe again on pictures, left for the whites and weirdos. Right for the black people.
Your finger hovers in the air as you gasp lightly at the thirst trap provided by a man self-identified as Erik. It deserves another sip of apple juice. You gulp it down from your cup. "Jesus.." You can't even see his face, because it's all BODY, but you can tell by the picture exactly what he's on Tinder for. Same m.o. as Pussy Hunter.
Erik S, 28
Fucc around and find out
Good Lord.. those shorts are yet holding on, you stare as if they'll slip down further by you willing them to. You swipe right. Your eyes widen as the app alerts you with a blue star meaning... He super liked your profile.
"NO," you gasp wide eyed at the phone ready to chuck it at the wall. Switching to the messages, there's a new one.. from him.. and you know what it's about. "I need some tea."
---
Erik lazed around his house bumping Schoolboy Q, clad in a white terry cloth bathrobe with a short glass of iced Ciroc and Lemonade in his hand. Dancing, he exfoliated his face with his spin brush, trimmed his mustache and beard, shaped himself up, and moisturized his locs and facial hair. The lil lip scrub he'd gotten as a gift from Cierra, he'd initially fought her on because it smelled like peaches but he liked how soft it made his lips. They even tasted good. He licked his lips for the umpteenth time tasting sugar. They tasted like Cierra.
Speaking of sugar, he looked at his phone wondering why his hoes ain't called. Then again, they could've. He wasn't near the phone all day. Checking the iPhone on the charging dock he saw that he had a missed call.. from Cierra.
Checking the time she called, he figured that was back when he was cleaning his guns and checking the parts. He'd already cleaned and sharpened his knives. He'd checked his security cameras. He felt good. Having no major responsibility and no place to be.
Outside of the missed call he had three new nudes and a video sitting in his messages to watch and record himself masturbating to. He was looking forward to doing that especially since Rell hadn't called with no bullshit local cases. Erik had stated he ain't want no hits near his temporary home.. for a year, he wanted peace. One damn year. But here he was still racking basic skills for pennies. "Chump change is still change," Rell's voice played in his ear. "You don't wanna get rusty. Gotta keep your skills sharp."
Erik had done his share of moving around, racking up international kills and earning the nickname Killmonger. But for a little while, he wanted to settle down in one concealed location where no one knew where he lived, who the fuck he was, or where he was coming or going. He wanted the illusion of peace and normality for a year at least. As much money as he had, he figured he could afford to stay in one place for that long if he was careful.
Only two people knew where he lived and that was Rell and Swift. They knew not to come over. Not even the previous owners of the house knew he was there.. because he'd made them an anonymous offer, killed them and moved in a few days after they'd sold it to him for cash. Needless to say he took all that money back.
He dialed Cierra, roaming to his bedroom to collapse over the bed as the phone rung. "Sup Ci?"
"Master," she whimpered, the desperation in her voice telling him she needed release. She'd been working too long through the past week and needed Master to come take control for a few hours. He could picture her on her knees, already in puppy space. She knew exactly how he liked her to wait for him.
"Yes, Ci. You need me to come for a scene?"
"Rrrrr," she growled. "Arf arf!"
"My bad. Lil Bitch."
"I gotta go to Target and see my sister," but come through later. I don't care how late just call up."
"Your sister? The one you met on Facebook?"
"Yeah, her! She live like an hour away. I'm a link with her and put her on Tinder! Get her a man to pop that back out," she giggles.
"You know I don't mind a two for one," Erik teased knowing she wouldn't go for it. He liked to mess with her anyway.
"Not with my damn sister, I'm not that nasty. A white girl can have it,"
"Damn crush my dream."
"Anyway!"
"Aight, I'm a let you go." Hanging up, he sat up and went to his closet pulling a colorful glass bong he'd gotten from a nigga he once knew in the military. Bruce Everett, white boy. Cool nigga... Too bad he shot hisself with his own gun. Sighing, Erik shook his head and went to the bathroom to fill it with water and headed back to pull his chrome grinder from his drawer along with a screen, hempwick, and a nug of Dr. Greenthumb's Emdog OG, grinding it down to pack the bowl making it fluff up.
"Perfect," he whispered lighting the bong with the hempwick. He lit the edges of the weed going around in a circle for an even and smooth burn as he stood taking a good long hit. "Shit," he exhaled releasing the smoke. I love bongs.
He looked and the bowl was empty as he'd expected. One hit's all you need when you do it right.
"Tinder...," he played in his mind. He already had a fetlife which was how he'd found his subs. Tinder was something different though. He was curious.
Downloading the app on the phone used almost solely for contact with subs, he went through the process of setting up an account, hesitating to put his info. It was general enough and the shit that was too specific, he could just lie. Still, he wouldn't upload his face.
So all I gotta do is swipe and see everyone in the area, he mused looking at all the faces.
"No.. No.. Nope.. Facially challenged.. The fuck is that?.. Hell nah.. Yes.. Yes.. She cute.. Hell nah.. Yes... No..," he paused looking a little closer at the screen. "Hello... Damn."
Out of curiosity he clicked on the profile. "That ass tho!"
He smirked hitting his super like.
"Shid... You can get the blue like.. Whatever the fuck that mean.." He stared at the picture. She had a juicy looking aro with thick black curls, brown skin, bright almond eyes, and enough ass to feed the needy for months. "Shit, if I was on a deserted island with coconuts and that ass.. that's enough meat for a damn.. shidd.." He chuckled. "Fuck is a super like? I super like yo ass meat..," he chuckled again falling back on his bed. "It mean I'm a break yo shit in thirds and fuck the pieces," he coughed, over his own bullshit.
---
Jumping up, you speedwalk into your kitchen and quickly heat some water in a pot, pulling a red mug and a bag of chamomile and a bag of lemon balm to mix with sugar. Combining it all, you take a sip and stand there staring at the wall before taking it with you back to the couch. "Okay," you sigh picking up the phone to open the Tinder message thread.
Cum talk to me, he says. You stare at the words. Wow, this is so cringy you don't know how to respond. You sit the phone back down taking another sip. You think about ignoring him, but you keep touching the phone, coming back to the message and staring.
Hey, you finally type hesitating at the simplicity before sending.
How are you tonight ? Why you up ?
Bored, lonely, contemplating my existence over Glee and wondering why my high school years were never that damn musical. You sip your tea.
Having a tv party with just lil ol' me. Why are you up?
The fuck kinda life you living. You need me to cum spice shit up for you? 👀
You think you that spicy? 👀
You wanna taste me and see?
Jeez. You flip back to the faceless picture of his body. Lord have mercy.
Don't play with a real one I'll show the fuck up real shit, he writes.
Internally you're screaming. He really thinks you're about to have sex with him. "I can't, oh my god," you sigh bouncing your knee. You hesitate before responding.
You can come, but bring food.
Hell yeah. Then you can be dessert. 😈
What? You turn the screen off and grab your head, your elbows on your knees.
What am I doing. Y/N what are you doing.
No sex nigga, you type before taking it back and staring at the screen perplexed. If you say that, he won't message you back.. If you don't say it, he'll be expecting to get some! You still want him to come through though even if he leaves because you're bored. You just want a little company for a little bit.
Maybe you should get a cat..
Your leg shakes unsure of how to respond and you take another sip of the hot tea mix feeling anything but calm.
Without further delay you just drop your address and hope for the best, wondering if you just signed off on your own murder. Maybe I should've told him to meet me somewhere else in the daytime.
Washing your apple juice cup, you put it away and then throw on some black leggings and rainbow fuzzy socks not wanting to open the door in pink bootyshorts adding onto the wrong message you'd already sent him. You also put a kitchen knife under the sofa cushion for easy access just in case.
40 minutes. You like wings?
Parmesan
🤢 Love yourself, sis. I'm getting a mix.
Oh I see you Mr. Petty Labelle, you smile getting a taste of his personality.
Yep. Finna get some of Ms. Petty's pie
Uh uh, you smirk.
We nuh ave dat
That right? Guess I'll see for myself when I pull up 👅
He's a whole fool. You set the phone down smiling at the tv. Meanwhile you watch another episode.. actually watching it this time.
Knock knock, he messages and you see it having kept the thread up just in case he had an issue. Jumping up, you snatch your phone and take a deep breath to steady your nerves. This is the first time you've ever done something like this and you hope it doesn't go badly.
Who's there, you jest messaging back right before you unlock your multiple locks and crack the door. Peeping out, you shut the door automatically throwing your body against it, holding your breath. He's huge! You didn't even look up, you just saw all that muscle like Kangaroo Jack. And why was he all up on the door?!
"Word? You must not want these wings then," he says through the door. You hear plastic rattling dramatically. "That's aight I don't mind eating em by myself."
You crack the door again, peeping out. You hadn't even seen the plastic bag hanging from his hand, you'd shut him out so fast. You reach out to grab it and he pulls it back.
"Aht! This how you treat guests? Door in the face? Snatching bags?" Your eyes roam from his hard chest to the broadness of his shoulder, resting on the sleeve of his charcoal grey Chicago Bulls shirt. Those biceps.
"Look at you undressing me in your mind already. Go ahead, you can touch me," he adds holding his arm forward as if reading your mind. He talks a lot.
You snatch the bag and put it behind your back a bit, opening the door. Then you look up and your kitty jumps. It's the devil himself. You try to control your surprise but between his sharp narrow chestnut eyes that smirk down, his sculpted nose, and his full pouting lips, you don't know if you want to kiss him, bite him, or climb him. You wanna do all three and more right in the hall.. up against the wall. His hair too, it's a mess of semi-thick locks that point everywhere like Coolio. It's his everything really..
"Y/N.."
Omg. It sounds so good coming from him. This isn't fair.
"Aye..," he waves.
"Hm," you sigh staring at his face.
"You gone let me in?"
"Huh? Oh." You step back quickly and scan him from head to toe as he steps across the threshold. Bulls shirt, black track pants, black sneakers. His shoes are ugly though, the back heel juts out too far. Balenciaga is written in white. Oh.
You look up and see he's looking you up and down too. Oop. Leading the way you take him to the living room and he settles on the couch, his develish eyes on yours. His knees spread wide as he leans back, hips forward.
Silently screaming, you look away and sit the plastic food bag on the table.
You can feel him staring. The air is full of raunchy expectation and you can't say you blame him. You practically encouraged it on the phone.
"You want something to drink," you smile in friendly attempt, risking a glance and it's just as you thought.
"You know exactly what I want."
"To DRINK," you exphasize, ignoring the thump of your heart in your nana as his eyes roll over your hips.
"Mmm... You got Henny?"
"I have apple juice, tea, water.."
"Ciroc?"
Your face screws, Didnt I just-- "I don't drink.."
"Ever?"
You shake your head.
"Damn, Apple Juice."
Taking your sweet time to pour his juice and refill your tea, you re-enter the living room as the Glee cast kicks off another song that he mutes.
"Here ya go."
You give him his cup and feel the chill in your spine as his fingertips brush yours. Unmuting the tv, you sit on the opposite side of the couch, legs crossed, tense and unsure of what to say to him now that he's there.
"You look uncomfortable."
"Me? I'm fine. I was just marathoning Glee before you came," you say handing him the remote, "I've already seen it though."
He hands the remote back. "You seen Menace II Society?"
"I've heard the title!"
"Well pull it up, let's watch it."
Thank God. That's something easy. You fumble through buttons and he starts opening the food as you set up the movie.
---
"Ooh Laurenz Tate he so fine," she smiled sitting up as the movie started. She would be into his ass. Erik rolled his eyes. Wait for it.
"I hate when they do that," she mumbled in response to the Asian woman following them around the store.
"Yeah," he agreed with swig of the juice looking from the tv to her face, watching her reaction. Wait for it.
"Why don't you give my homeboy his change," O-Dog says before walking to the door. "I feel sorry for your mother," the store owner snubs.
Bitch, don't talk about my mama. That part always pissed Erik off.
"What you say about my mama? You feel sorry for who?!" O-Dog shouts. "I don't want any trouble, just get out," the shopowner shouts, backtracking like the bitch nigga he is.
Fuck that, shoot his bitchass, Erik barked in his head. POP. POP POP. POP. POP. There you go! He shot the wife too, meanwhile, the princess jumped in her seat, absorbed in the felony she just observed on screen. Double-homicide.
"He shouldn't have shot them.. Bruh, now the cops gone be looking for him and his friend wasn't even in it but now he's an accomplice."
"You telling me you wouldn't have shot a nigga talkin shit on your mama?" Erik leaned into her space, curious, but she ain't seem to notice.
"No, 'cause they're rude, ugly, and racist but still. You can't kill without consequences."
Erik steeled. She wasn't wrong.
"I'd have shot his ass too," he admitted watching her. She didn't seem to agree. "Should've kept his mouth off his family."
"You close to your family," she asked suddenly.
"Yeah," he lied knowing his people were dead. "...You mind if I get more juice," he pointed to his cup and she took it refilling it.
Fifteen minutes into the movie, she noticed her wing choice wasn't in the selection and Erik kept a poker face having wondered when she'd realize. He'd already started on the barbecue.
"Where's my parmesan," she frowned looking in the boxes.
"They ain't have it," he lied. "Ran out."
"You're such a liar. Now what am I gonna eat," she pouted to his humor.
"Eat the carribean jerk," he nudged the box to her. She eyed it and he felt like a wolf trapping a rabbit, the wings being the bait.
"I ask you for one thing."
"Yeah and? I wasn't finna buy that shit," he chuckled grabbing a jerk wing and biting it, closing his eyes and humming as he chewed to entice her. When he peeked, she was watching his mouth out the corner of her eye as he licked spicy sauce off his thumb. Sliding down in the cushion, she crossed her arms and raised a knee with her fuzzy foot on the couch. Such a damn brat. Ol' hungry ass.
He started to flex the length of his tongue since she was looking but decided against it. He couldn't be too aggressive or she'd spook and he wouldn't get no ass. Why he cared, he couldn't put a finger on other than the fact that she'd become a challenge. This girl would not let him anywhere near her. She was very shy considering she was down for a one night stand. I'm getting the draws, he promised himself right then. How? He just had to make her come to him.
Her nose wrinkled as she picked up a jerk wing, rotating it.
"Girl eat the wing, this ain't rocket science," he fussed watching her bite it.
"It's better than parmesan?" Lie, he dared watching her closely.
She took another bite.. then she attacked the wing and when she licked her fingers, he looked away grabbing another wing and swig of his juice.
"OKAY. SHUT UP." She grabbed another wing chewing through it as he coughed in his elbow hiding his laugh.
"I didn't say anything," he croaked shrugging her off.
"But you smiling and I can hear you thinking."
He couldn't hide the fat grin plastered on his face though he'd tried by looking away. "How you hear me thinking," he squinted watching her collect bones.
"Because I do, you're loud," she stressed.
"How I'm l-"
"SHH!! I'm tryna hear," she whispered. He shook his head watching the corner of her mouth lift and they watched the movie in silence until she reached for another wing and all the jerk were gone. He pushed her another box.
"You all the way over there. Come sit next to me."
"I'm not that far."
"You are. I promise I won't bite you.."
Her eyes rolled.
"Not unless you into that shit," he added patting the cushion beside him. She lifted, barely moving. "You scared?"
"What you mean?" She looked nervous all of a sudden looking anxiously in his eyes. This was gonna be a tough wall to break.
He patted the cushion again, waiting, and she finally moved in closer filling the empty seat beside him. He determined right then not to touch her but to get as close as possible maintaining proximity to get her used to his presence. Draping an arm over the couch behind her, he observed silently as she sat tense for the the next five minutes before relaxing. He had his work cutout.
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Apologies
Part 1/ Part 2 / Part 3
Prompt: The one where Y/N decides to give surprise to a stressed Shawn in studio but things don't quite turn out well.
Word Count: 2.3k
A/N: Thanks for giving this a read. I appreciate each one of you. I say sorry if this sucks lmao bc I'm still an amateur. Feedback is always appreciated. Happy reading :)🌸
Making music isn't that easy as someone thinks it to be. Whichever song it is, it always has a lot of efforts, several sleepless nights and anxieties behind it which can never be seen. The worries of the song not hitting the exact right note you think of eats up your mind. Constant tugging at your hair, biting your nails out of stress, several mental breakdowns and waves of lack of self-confidence hits you making you unsure of everything.
This is what Shawn has been experiencing since the past three months. He was working on a new album which he expected to be the best one till now. It was in the process with 8 songs already prepared and 4 more to go which were taking a longer time than the previous ones and it was making a nervous wreck out of him. He wasn't sure where this was leading to and was really anxious about the album.
On the other hand, he was also not realising how distant he was being from you in the process. Your conversations have started to get shortened from day to day and the time you both used to spend together can be counted easily on fingers in minutes. This being another reason that was bothering Shawn. And you as well.
You started to observe Shawn getting so self absorbed to the fact that he sometimes didn't hear a word you say or purposely act like he unheard whatever you said. He sometimes forgot to eat or wake up just in the middle of the night and walk down to his personalized studio at your house. This was not bothering you for the first few months but now it was totally getting you.
But you, however, decided to stay calm about it anyway as you know what it feels like to have a deadline. Being an office manager yourself, you had a proper idea about how Shawn must be feeling. The stress eats you up slowly until you get the work done before you meet its deadline. You were surprisingly quite understanding about this issue.
xx
Today you took an off from work since you wanted to give yourself a break. These past days you have been dealing with so much workload that you were feeling exhausted. Constant traveling and dealing with clients had made your legs and mouth sore.
Also, today was another one of those mornings in the past few months when you woke up to an empty bed and an empty house which meant Shawn left for the studio early without telling you, again.
Being used to this, you climbed out of the bed and decided to give yourself a good bath. You spent a good hour in your bathtub with some relaxing music and scented candles. You were pretty happy today and expected the day to go well. *whoops*
After having your breakfast, you settled on your couch to watch some Netflix and have a relaxing time. You checked your phone in between the scenes for any messages from Shawn but all in vain. You were wrong about even recieving a good morning text from your busy boyfriend. You sighed and shrugged it off.
After watching several hours of television, you felt the need to do something exciting and thought upon giving a surprise visit to Shawn.
You knew how stressed and distant he has been lately so why not. You planned that you would pick up his favourite food from Taco Bell and drop the food at his table, have a short conversation and leave him to his work.
So you put on your blue distressed boyfriend jeans, a black tank top which said "Bloom" and your black vans. You styled your hair in a half-bun half-down way and left the house with the car keys, a jacket and your purse.
You inserted the car keys, started the ignition and drove off to Taco Bell to grab the food for Shawn.
The drive to Taco Bell was meant to be a short one. You put on some music and hummed along to it while rolling the windows down. It was a pretty weather with the sun not shining that bright.
After about 20 mins you reached Taco Bell and ordered a soft Chicken Taco with some Nachos and Chilly fries. You picked up the order after about 5 minutes of waiting and drove off to the studio where Shawn was.
You parked your car and stepped in the studio. It was quieter than the usual times you've been here. After walking inside, you met with Brian and Andrew who asked you how you were doing followed by an exchange of smile. You were greeted with some assistants giving you some narrow eyed looks who have always been jealous of you being Shawn's girlfriend but you were now used to them.
You reached Shawn's room. You viewed your stressed yet beautiful boyfriend through the glass outlet of the door and smiled to yourself. He looked so pretty, with his brown curls all messed up with some of them falling on his forehead while his hands were in his hair, pulling on some strands of hair out of frustration. You wanted to let all his frustration and pain go so bad.
Your heart was racing thinking upon how he would react on seeing you here. Would he be happy? Would he be sad? Most of all, would he be angry? You shook off the thought from your mind, gulped and opened the door.
At first he didn't notice you because he was too engrossed in his work. He was scribbling something down with his headphones on. You didn't intend to disturb him in the midst of this so you just went behind his back and stood there and waited until he was done.
You watched him like he was an artwork. The way his beautiful brown eyes were so focused upon the sheet of paper in front of him. You missed him. You missed his touch. You missed how those eyes holding so much love in them, used to look at you. You missed how he used to peck your lips and gave the lame excuse that he forgot the last time he kissed them.
You didn't know how long you've been standing there looking at him but it but it has been about 10 minutes. You saw Shawn putting down the pencil he had and take off his headphones.
So you took the chance to let him know of your unexpected presence and wrapped your arms around his neck lovingly. Taking in the smell of the shampoo he washed his hair with last night.
Shawn was taken aback. He wasn't expecting you to be there. Not when he was in the studio in the middle of the process of making music. His forehead turned into a frown and he somehow felt angry. Felt angry at your casual presence in his workplace even though you've been there before a multiple times.
He pushed your hands off of him and turned around to look at you. You were a bit shock at the sudden aggressiveness but decided to put up a smile anyway. You thought he must be shocked to see you. In a good way. But you were wrong.
"Surprise baby!" you said in a low tone and stepped forward to hug Shawn. Shawn was quick to step back. You were now confused at his reaction. Didn't know what he was upto. You searched his face and there it was. The eyes that once used to shine at your sudden presence were now dark. Angry. In rage. And disappointment. You somehow you started to get a bit scared of him.
Shawn shook his head and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. He then grabbed your hand aggressively, with quite a tight grip and lead you out of the room.
Once you were out of the room, he left your hand and asked you through gritted teeth "What are you doing here?". You were in shock by his sudden change of behaviour. This was not the person you recognised to be your lover. "God dammit Y/N! I fucking asked you something. Answer me would you?!" he said with his voice a bit higher than before. You flinched at his words.
"I-I meant to give you a surprise visit babe. Brought food for y-you" you stammered.
"And who bloody told you do that? Huh? Don't you know that I'm in my studio making music. Still in the process Y/N!" Shawn spoke to you in dark and loud voice that you've never heard off. Brian, Andrew and some of the assistants came running through the hall to see what was all this chaos about.
"You think you can walk in here whenever you want don't you? Being my girlfriend gives you every privilege to do what you want huh Y/N? This is such a careless attitude of yours! You're not a fucking queen. Snap out of your dream!"
Tears threatening to spill from your eyes as you were now preventing yourself from crying in front of the staff.
"Shawn stop it. I'm sorry okay. I'll go. Just don't yell please. If I knew you'd get this bothered, I would've never walked in here. I-I just wanted to make you happy." you said in a voice barely above a whisper. You were now avoiding yourself to look Shawn in the eye.
"Hey hey! Calm down brother. She was just here to check on you and give you your foo-" Brian said but Shawn was quick to interrupt.
"Oh fuck off Brian! This is between Y/N & me. You stay out of this." Shawn spat.
You nodded to tell Brian it's okay.
"And you Y/N. Do you think you can help me like you always think you do? Being the perfect person that you are huh? You managing your company well doesn't mean that you can manage me too Y/N! For fuck's sake get over yourself! You can't make everything right okay. All by yourself. Let other people do there work without your bloody magic!" Shawn was literally throwing words at your face like knives.
Your heart was breaking more and more with every word that was coming out of his mouth. Tears now streaming down your cheeks.
Andrew placed a hand over Shawn's shoulder to calm him down but he pushed his hand off.
"Oh right! Good. Now you'll cry and start with your little drama Y/N! Won't you? You're so wonderful. You're so perfect. Nobody can tell me otherwise or else I will cry. But guess what? I fucking said it. You always have to make everything about yourself don't you Y/N? You make me sick Y/N. You're so fucking selfish and self-absorbed that I can't even tell you. You thought you would walk in here, give your poor boyfriend a surprise and get another chance to make yourself look good in front of others. You're a genius by the way. You ar-"
"STOP!!! Just stop it Shawn. Just fucking stop it. Enough Shawn enough. You said too much. You've gone too far."
You've really had enough of him. He was talking rubbish. It was like someone else has taken over his body. He seemed so strange to you. You felt like you've never known him. But with the words he was saying, he was pushing off the limits. You felt angry now.
"I can't even look at you right now. It makes me sick. What happened to you? Who do you think you are Shawn? I don't have a perfect life. And I'm not perfect. If anything I've been miserable since the past months but you are becoming too ignorant to see that. I'm sorry for coming and giving you a surprise which I thought would make you feel bett-"
"Ahh! Now you're gonna play the good person aren't you?"
You were totally taken aback. The way things were coming out of his mouth were unrecognisable. You were exhausted. And broken. You can't let yourself get hurt by his words anymore. He has said enough. He has went way too far. This was not at all how you were expecting things to turn out. Your eyes were red now from being sad and angry. You looked around you and saw the staff. Some were giving you sympathetic looks while some looked pleased. This was making you sick to your stomach. The person standing in front off you was not the love of your life. You began to feel dizzy. Before it can get any worse, you decided to walk out of the studio.
"Fuck you Shawn" you said in a dark tone, not that loud not that low and threw the packet away which you brought with yourself and started walking out. Shawn was still uttering words which you were too emotionally exhausted to listen to. Tears were nowhere seen to be stopping anytime soon.
You walked to your car, opened the car door and sat there for a while. You expected Shawn to come out after realising what he had done and hug you forcefully and apologize but there were none of it.
You were now fully crying inside your car. You felt so pathetic. How could he say such things to you when all you've always been is supportive of him and looking out for him because he was your everything. You cringed at thinking about the fact that how long have Shawn been thinking about you like this. What have you really done to deserve such cruel words? Or were you really that selfish?
You looked at yourself in the mirror. You looked like a mess. A crying wreck. You weren't sure of what do to now. You cried even harder when you felt like the words Shawn said began playing again in your head.
xx
Part 2 soon 💕 Let me know what you guys think about this xx MASTERLIST
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