Slasher Preferences and One-Shots

It's more than just a hobby (RZ! Michael Myers x Reader)

(This prompt was soooo cute!!)

It would've been a vast understatement to say your love was quiet. After all, he was painfully so. Luckily for you, there were many other ways for the two of you to communicate. Funny thing that, isn't it? Communication that is..it can be the building block and the wrecking ball of relationships. However this all being said, Micheal did speak to you- in the verbal sense- on multiple occasions..he just prefers not to regularly.

You didn't mind one bit.

Besides, being able to understand a person without them having to be deliberately straightforward can be quite the gift. For instance, you knew how your otherwise expressionless lover felt just by the way he approached you. Fortunately..today was one of the good days were such deciphering was unnecessary.

The "Bogeyman" as some have seemed to name him, now sat at your kitchen table- his gaze fixed downwards to crumpled up newspaper and bowls set before him. There was a certain happiness to be felt seeing him at ease, no traces of tenseness nor anxiousness to be detected..just calm.

You almost didn't want to disturb him. Alas, there were more pressing matters at hand.

"Hey Mikey, do you want one or two slices?"  You called out to him, clearly displaying a plate containing the grilled cheese sandwiches you had been making for the past couple of minutes during your own special subconscious soliloquy.

Ever so slowly, the "shape" lingering in your dining room peered your way through a waterfall of messy dirty blonde hair. Once he did, you could clearly see the small spark of interest illuminating his storm colored eyes- only further reaffirming you of his contentment. True to his nature, he held up one large hand and stuck out two fingers to answer you- his other hand having been busy and occupied with flour water.

"Okay, I'll be just a second."

Rolling your eyes after you had turned, you couldn't help but replay that little scene a couple times. How was he able to appear so docile? You've had the "honor" of watching that same hand choke the life out of some unnamed prey of his with absolutely no mercy- and yet here he was, making his hundredth mask while you served up grilled cheese.

At least he no longer tried to keep the mask on while you ate. Well..at least he actually eats with you now. Your ever so dangerous "Mikey" surely has came a long way from where your twisted relationship began.

Taking your seat right at his side, you playfully moved his the bowl of flour and water away from him in favor of his plate of food- to which a little slight glare was casted your way in response. You knew better than to fear him, therefore you simply nudged his shoulder.

"Eat, I didn't make it for you to look at." You teased, following with a sweet smile so he wouldn't misconstrue your intentions. He may have been severely psychologically compromised, but Michael was also subjected to unimaginable cruelty- that much being one of the first things you picked up on. After developing the little bond the two of you had, it was with a happy heart you secretly vowed to show him the love no one else would or could.

He understood this.

"Mh." He sort of grunted in acknowledgment, playing into your little game by taking only a small bite of the sandwich before carelessly pushing it aside so he could resume his work. But that's when he thought...a very peculiar thought. "You..."He sighed, looking back over you with an uncharacteristically softened expression. Hopefully you wouldn't be too mad at his disregard of your sandwich...

"..yea?"

After you had shown interest, Michael pushed your own plate in a similar matter to the way you did his bowl- pushing said item between the two of you. He wasn't deterred in the slightest whenever you went to protest- having already set your mind on actually eating the lunch you had made.

Grey eyes flickering between you and the strips of paper, Michael never once looked so vulnerable- not even through the throes of passion between your now shared bedsheets. Steadying himself, he cleared his throat- "Will you make a mask with me?" He gingerly spoke, voice deep and guttural due to its perpetual misuse. Times like this were crucial to Michael, how you reacted and what you said next could be detrimental to his overall being. Even with such a weight, there wasn't a single thought -save for the longing for your grilled cheese- that would make you think twice on your answer.

"Of course, show me?" In response you received a gentle nod, blonde locks swishing as he did.

Patience had always been a virtue Michael had- if not the only one, so teaching you how to do something he loved was no problem. He just didn't piece together that it was so easy because he also loved you.

~~~~~
"Do you like it?" Your sweet, soothing voice roused his attention- stopping him from eating the last bite of a now cold cheesy sandwich. Whenever he looked at the horribly constructed white mask in your hands, he still couldn't help but give a low hum of approval in spite of it's horrid state.

He couldn't say no.