#Leave Halloween and Michael alone

[orzigan]

I saw Halloween Ends and I have only one question: Why...?

[myswimmingpewl]

I headcanon that crowley hates halloween. He hates the attention that hell gets once a year and he hates how inaccurate everything is. He keeps saying to aziraphale how those demons don't look realistic at all and these humans should see some real demons once in a while.

Aziraphale on the other hand loves halloween. He loves the silly costumes and he also loves how people get sweets and says it really helps the neighbourhood get to know eachother.

Every year, aziraphale forces crowley to find a costume (a new one each year) and they go trick or treating together. At first, crowley isn't enthusiastic and hates it but by the end of the night, he's so giddy and wants to go to more houses. Azi has to drag him back home.

Each year they go through the same cycle and crowley denies ever enjoying this holiday

[reallivewire]

mfw can't fit between things because shoulders too wide tits too fat!! showing neck like some kind of WHORE

[slashersidewhore]

Slashers! First meeting their S/O

Slashers! x gn!reader

Includes Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Thomas Hewitt, Vincent Sinclair

Requested? Yes

Warnings: beefy murder boyfriends, fluffy shit, pre-relationship stuff, love at first sight, mentions of murder/gore/malicious intentions, violence

Michael Myers

It was Halloween night, dark eyes through holes in a white, cast of a mask staring through the second story window of an old, decrepit house

A young boy skipping by as in a blue, capped superhero, an older couple strolling on the opposite street, arm in arm minding their own in the breezy night

Eyes cast downward as the sharp ring of a doorbell shot through the old bones of the house, glint of a butchers knife tight in the grasp of the man know silently making his way through the upper hall

“Are we even supposed to be going in here?”

“Who cares, it’s tradition to check out the Myers mansion, relax”

“I don’t know, this feels wrong..”

Listening to what seemed to be two young adult, the shrill voice of one of them almost instantly striking the silent man with a headache

Michael watched from the shadows as the pair came into view, the louder of the two wearing her hair in tight pigtails, a cheerleader outfit splattered with what was obviously fake blood, a bad attempt at a murder victim

Ready to lumber from the darkness and strike down on the intruders, the man was struck to the spot he stood as you came into view, wearing another poorly, and clearly last minute, thrown on pirate costume

You were what he imagined when the perfect kill was dreamt, your face burned into his as your pictured screams of fear and pain died as did your fighting spirit, the knife once again tightened in his grip, knuckles turning a pale white, veins pulsing beneath taut skin

He wanted, no, needed to kill you

Even the thought alone send a bold chill of excitement through the otherwise lifeless body of his

“You know what would be so funny-“

The girl in pigtails spoke as she flipped around the corner, the voice shrinking in her throat quickly morphing in a scream of terror as she bumped into the large, awaiting body of the infamous Michael Myers

Although her scream was also short lived as a rough hand was immediately around her throat, lifting her from her feet and slamming her back into the adjacent wall breath knocked from her body at the impact

His other hand rose, moonlight catching the long, silver blade as it was plunged deep into her stomach, twisting, turning as her throat gave up on its scream, another shriek caused the killers head to twist like an owl

There you stood, frozen in place with hands partly covering your mouth, eyes wide, not shaking, not running, just watching as the man before you brutalized your friend

But as your eyes caught each others in the dimly lit hallway, Michaels grasp on the now corpse released, body hitting the floor with a dull thud he didnt bother to pull the knife from its placed nestled between dead flesh, not even glancing down at it

Your hands slowly fell from your face, still not shaking, but clearly stressed with sweat as you wiped your hands on the fabric covering your thighs

“I’m, sorry for breaking in”

Your voice was soft, careful but not disingenuous, Michael didn’t know how to react, unable to look away or even move

His head tilted to the left, mask bunching at the bottom, he turned on his heel and made his exit through the rickety wooden door leading to the backyard, leaving the body, knife, and you alone in the corridor

As his walk through the brisk night air flooded under the neck of his mask, the killer could feel his normally emotionless face scrunch with confusion

If hearing you scream in fear wasn’t what he thought he wanted from you, then what did he want from you?

He would have to investigate this sudden curiosity closely

Jason Voorhees

Jason was tirelessly indulging the day by sitting on the end of his cabins patio, watching the slow turn of various wild animals go by

There weren’t any campers to keep him busy, nor screams and boisterous laughter of teens trying to get their rocks off on the property, just the hum of June bugs and trees swaying beneath the gentle breeze of warm weather

That was until a shrill yelp drilled into Jason’s eardrums, bothered by the distraction from his day of calm, the man stood with shoulders squared, grabbing the awaiting machete perched against one of the patios wooden posts

Marching through the dense woods, his boots crushed leaves as he made he way to the noise from minutes earlier, hoping whoever it was was far gone

“Oh my god”

Of course they weren’t though, of course whoever this was decided to stupidly wander onto private property, clearly posted in writing on multiple trees and wire fences

Although Jason hesitated when he heard something he’d never had the pleasure of catching

“You poor thing, here I am breaking the law because of you”

Peeking from behind the thick trunk of a large oak, Jason was surprised to see a stranger kneeling in the dirt, fingers and palms cut up with minor wounds as they attempted to unwind a helpless rabbit that seemed to have gotten itself rolled in loose barbed wire

Not minding to worry about yourself, you winced as another barb caught your finger, slicing the thin flesh there as the rabbit was freed, trotting away without a care in the world

“Okay, now which way did I come in from?”

You wondered aloud, turning on your heel to go back the direction you think you came from, hoping in get back on the hiking trail you’d left behind

Jason merely watched with confusion, no malice or really any thought behind his eyes other than the urge to, protect you, from what he wasn’t sure

But he knew for certain, you weren’t someone he’d be able to forget

Thomas Hewitt

Let’s get one thing straight, Thomas doesn’t enjoy killing, him and his family was forced into it by Hoyt and his insatiable urge to feed and “care” for everyone

Most victims were easy to kill, treating him like a monster, screaming in his face curses and insults as they went out

Others he had a harder time with, the ones that just cry, plead with him for their life, promise they won’t tell the police if he lets them go

That being said, he’s never failed to kill, not once since he’s begun

That is until one summer day, when a knock at the door caught Luda Mae by surprise, wiping her wet hands on a dish towel and headed to the front door

Eyes narrowed, the older woman opened the door to reveal a young adult, you, standing there with a shy smile gracing your features, you held a pair of car keys in one hand, the other free to reach up and rub nervously at the back of your neck

“I’m sorry to bother you and, whoever else is home, but my car broke down a mile out, and I’m unable to reach anyone on my cell”

Luda Maes confusion turned to soft pity, a reserved grin taking over her lips as she moved to the left, a hand beckoning you in

“Well dear, there’s a phone in the kitchen, if you’d like I can call the towns auto shop while you wait in the living room”

Although still shaken from being practically dropped in the middle of nowhere Texas, you made your way graciously inside, thanking the woman with kind praise as you did so

Taking a seat on one of the two sofas available, your ankles crossed as you stared down at one of the keychains dangling from your car keys

You could hear the woman in the kitchen shuffling around, although you weren’t sure if you could hear anyone speaking to anyone on the phone

Curious, you slowly stood, palms sweaty as you now took a few steps from the living room, now able to hear Luda Mae speaking on the low to someone, then the sound of a corded phone clicking into its place on the wall

Heart slowing as you realized you were just being paranoid, you quickly turned on your heel to find your way back to the couch, although your trip was cut short by your feet crossing over one another, about to fall on your face when a two large hands steadied your shoulder

Gazing up, your breath caught in your throat at the absolute behemoth of a man now standing before you, a leather mask covering the bottom half of his face, thick brows furrowing as you simply continued to stare with wonder up at him

“Thank you”

Was all you could manage, voice catching as you realized your body was practically pressed up against his

“There you are dear, oh look I see you’ve met my youngest boy Tommy”

Luda Mae spoke as she entered the room, knowing look on her face as she coyly added fuel to the current fire

Pulling yourself up right and out of Thomas’ grasp, your hot face was focused on the older woman in hopes the man wouldn’t notice your sudden fluster

“Unfortunately our only truck is out with my other son, so I was thinking my boy here could be so kind as to walk you to the auto shop, you’ll be safe with him, promise”

You didn’t notice the way Thomas’ eyes followed you, too focused on thinking about being alone with a man as attractive as the one quietly standing beside you

“You’re not worried are you?”

Luda seemed to test you, but it went right over your head as you shook your head no

“He seems very reliable”

You smiled up at Thomas, unable to catch the skip in his chest as you did so

Luda Mae could only grin at the sight, ready to call up Hoyt and tell him to leave this stranger alone, as she could see a future blooming before her eyes

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent wasn’t one to leave his studio unless absolutely necessary, and even in those cases he didn’t, it wasn’t pleasant for the man

Until Bo brought home a guest, someone shaking and blindfolded as he manhandled the poor soul, although the stranger wasn’t screaming nor fighting, it was as if they’d completely given up, or knew it wouldn’t help

Vincent watched silently as his brother forced you to the ground, your knees surely hurting as they made contact with the hard, concrete floor

“Do you know what happens to people that wander where they don’t belong?”

Bo questioned menacingly, although he had a playful glint in his eye Vincent had never seen before

Silently creeping up behind his twin, the long haired man narrowed his eyes as he scanned what he could see in the dim, candle lit room of your face

The obvious old, dried tears that had found their way down your cheeks were still shining, creating lines over your soft skin

You looked to be carved of marble, painted with delicate strokes and framed with care, you were a work of art, and he hadn’t even seen your eyes yet

Placing a deft hand on Bo’s shoulder, the two exchanged looks, the shorter haired twin groaning in annoyance, although that look from before was still in his eye

Right as he was turning to take his leave, he leaned closer to Vincent, whispering to him as he passed

“I took one glance and knew you’d like them, guess I was right”

Then he was gone, foot steps disappearing as he left up the basement stairway

Vincent cautiously walked closer to you, noticing how you flinched back a bit when he made a move to pull your blindfold up, doing it slowly as to not startle you

Your watery eyes fell on his masked face, brows furrowing slightly as you glanced around the room

Vincent’s mouth soured at the idea that you were looking for Bo, of course you would be, what new comer in town wasn’t, until

“Is that man from before gone?”

You’d whispered, and if your sweet voice didn’t send Vincent into a flutter of strange emotions, your next words at the nod of, “yes”, Vincent gave you did

“Good, he scares me”

He merely nodded, unsure of how to act

“Is he going to come back?”

Vincent shrugged

Your shifted so you were sitting, wincing at the ache in your legs, eyes nervous but no longer afraid, you looked to the silent man before you

“Will you, stay here if he comes back?”

Vincent had never been so quick to nod a, “yes”

Sorry I’ve been gone for so long, but I’m back now! I’m working on what is currently in my requests but feel free to send in more!

^ me returning after being inactive for 6 months

[calmcoldevening]

You had a bad day [Michael Myers x reader]

You had a bad day, a really bad day. It was cloudy outside, just like you're feeling at the moment. You had a headache after your boss's hour-long screams about how you did the job wrong; you got soaked in the cold rain; besides, your phone was dead.

Finally, you cross the threshold of your house, sighing in amazement. Dirty shoes remain at the doorstep while you slowly walk towards your room, simultaneously pulling off clothes stuck to your body. You climb onto the bed, burrowing into the blanket, and quietly sob. It was disgusting in my heart. It didn't help that you wanted comfort so damn much, but you were alone in the house. You didn't know where Michael was or how he was. He just wasn't there. He had been home quite rarely lately, after all, Halloween had passed not so long ago and Michael was still continuing his 'work'. But you missed him now. You wanted his clumsy, rough, but so warm hugs.

Michael wasn't the best guy. He was always silent, only occasionally nodding or shaking his head in denial, but he never spoke. Michael was never the first to make contact, but only stood in the doorway, looking at you through the black holes of his mask in mute expectation. He always did that when he was hungry.

And yet now you wanted to be the one who was looked after, cared for and loved. You sobbed softly, burying your nose in the cool fabric of the blanket. I wanted to disappear so that it would all be over.

After a good half hour, when you were already on the verge between sleeping and waking, you felt a pair of rough hands on your waist, squeezing your tender flesh. You instinctively flinched at someone else's touch. Your mind was wandering in terror. Exactly until you heard the familiar heavy breathing on the other side of the latex. Michael. It was your Michael. A stone fell from your soul when you breathed a sigh of relief, allowing yourself to relax. All this happened in a split second, when you finally realized that the guy initiated the touch himself. He was hugging you.

"Michael?" You ask quietly. Your tired voice breaks the tense silence like a knife. The man frowns, pulling you closer to him. He doesn't like your voice, the mood you're talking to right now. You were usually gentle and said his name with such love and care that his dead heart melted and seemed to start beating again. In those moments, he wasn't a Boogeyman, he was Michael. Your Michael. But now your voice was quiet, as if you were speaking with some kind of pain. Michael didn't like it. His broad palm began to stroke your stomach with amazing tenderness, while the nose of his mask gently rubbed against your bare neck. Like a kitten.

Transparent droplets of tears appear in your eyes, slowly flowing down your pale cheeks. It seemed that the whole weight of the last few years fell on your shoulders in an instant. You're shaking. The pain in your temples and aching heart make you cry like a little child. Michael tenses up. In an instant, you are turned over and you find yourself with your face pressed against Myers' chest, his chin on top of your head. His hands are holding you to him with a bit of desperation, stroking your back. You grab the fabric of his jumpsuit, so rough and old, like a lifebuoy, burrowing into his body in search of peace and relief. Your eyes are burning with tears, and your chest can't take a full breath of air.

"..it's not my fault.. However," you whisper softly, trying to keep the remnants of your composure, "It wasn't my job.. but the director thought otherwise. He.. He yelled at me. Strongly.. he was so angry, although my colleague is to blame.."

Michael's measured movements gradually slow down until his big hand leaves your back, leaving this place to be torn apart by the cold of the room. But then the loud breathing stops, and after it you feel Michael leaning back, putting something on the bedside table. The next moment, a pair of cracked, dry lips touches your forehead, leaving a rough but so familiar kiss on your skin. You don't dare to look up, but your sobs gradually slow down, turning into muffled sobs. Now the man's hand finds your place on your cheek, tucking a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. He is surprisingly gentle, as if you are a real crystal figurine made of pure glass.

You are his heart. Michael had never known what love or caring was before. His childhood and youth in a psychiatric hospital were filled with pain and alienation, from which he learned to hide from the rest of the world behind a solid mask of indifference, behind the mask of a monster. And yet, with you, he wanted to be real. It was difficult, and Michael didn't always know how to behave. But now, seeing you crying, something inside Michael tightened painfully, making him frown and clench his teeth. He didn't know why he was angry and didn't know why he felt that way. The only thing Michael was sure of was that he wanted to punch the face of the one who made you cry.

Finally, you calm down, letting out a nervous sigh from your lungs. Michael tenses up for a moment, but his heart skips a beat when he sees you visibly relax in his arms.. Are you happy? His stroking resumes when he wordlessly tries to persuade you to sleep. You obey, snuggling into his chest and closing your eyes. The man's gaze softens, his lips seem to twitch in a slight hint of a smile.

This will be one of those rare occasions when Michael stays with you all night. But he definitely thinks he should visit your boss the next night.

I just needed a little comfort from my boy. Have a good day ♡⁠

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

can I get 16 and 19 with charlie

16. ‘’The nerd never gets the hot girl, that’s just the way it is.’’ + 19. ‘’I never said I didn’t want to kiss you.’’

SCREAM WEEK PT 2/7

This is my first time writing for Charlie, please don't let this flop. He is not as popular as the other Ghostfaces, but I'm a sucker for horror movie nerds

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Kirby shifted beside you, trying to not fall asleep as the movie continued playing on the TV. ‘’When this one ends, I’m going home. I promised myself I would never watch this monstrosity again, but here we are.’’ She took the almost empty bowl of popcorn to keep herself busy and awake. 

The Curse of Michael Myers wasn’t the best of the franchise, but it was part of it and you were doing a Halloween marathon. 

‘’What? Come on, Kirby. It’s not even midnight!’’ you protested, not wanting her to leave yet. ‘’The next one if H20. It has its flaws, but it also has Jamie Lee Curtis going after Michael with an axe.’’

Kirby hesitated, clearly torn. ‘’I don’t know…’’ 

‘’And you promised to drive me home,’’ you reminded her. ‘’I don’t want to leave yet. We have at least two more to go.’’ 

‘’Four if we include the Rob Zombie remakes,’’ Charlie chimed in from the armchair.

You almost forgot those two. 

‘’I’m not sitting through four more movies. My ass is starting to meld with this couch,’’ the blonde grumbled.

You rolled your eyes. It wasn’t the most comfortable couch, but at least it was bigger than Robbie’s. The last time you tried to have a movie night at his house, three people had to sit on the floor. 

‘’I can walk you home if you want?’’ Charlie offered, secretly not wanting you to leave yet.

When the movie ended, Charlie went to the kitchen for drinks while you were switching the DVDs. He had a hefty collection above the television, which you were slightly jealous of. He even owned expensive collector pieces — counting a Jigsaw puppet —, but they were upstairs in his bedroom. 

‘’Did you set it up?’’ Charlie asked, returning to the living room. 

You hummed, grabbing the throw blanket from the back of the couch and laying it over your lap. It wasn’t cold, but you liked the feeling of it on your skin. 

Charlie handed you your drink and went to sit back on the armchair, you stopped him. ‘’You don’t have to sit all the way there, Kirby’s spot is free.’’ 

Without thinking it through, Charlie sat beside you, momentarily forgetting that he gets sweaty and nervous when he’s close to you. God, he felt like such a loser. 

The movie started, and the familiar Halloween theme music echoed through the speakers. 

Toward the middle of the movie, you were both quoting the movie and laughing. It wasn’t your first time seeing it. Nor your second. 

Although you had been in the same friend group since Sophomore year, it was rare that you were hanging out alone with Charlie. He and Robbie were inseparable, and you tended to spend most of your time with Kirby and Olivia. Outside of your passion for horror movies, you didn’t have much in common. You weren’t even from the social scale at school. 

Absent-mindedly, you had moved closer to him. You didn’t know when or how, but Charlie, on the other hand, did notice and shifted uncomfortably, feeling the warmth radiating from your body beside him. He could smell the faintest notes of your perfume, making him realize that if he was close enough to kiss you. But he couldn’t do that. Instead, he took a sip of his drink, trying to quiet his thoughts.

‘’She’s going after him!’’ You grabbed Charlie’s arm in excitement as you watched Jamie Lee break the glass and take the axe. ‘’Go Laurie! Chop his head off!’’ you said at the screen despite already knowing what will happen. 

Charlie's gaze flickered between you and the TV, savoring the moments in your company. When would he get another night like this?

‘’There’s no way he can return after that.’’ 

‘’Yet he does,’’ Charlie said as the credits rolled in. ‘’They briefly explain in Resurrection that Laurie killed the wrong person on Halloween night, thinking it was Michael Myers. It was a paramedic. Personally, I think that’s farfetched. They should have let him die.’’

You twisted your torso to look at Charlie. ‘’But that’s the thing with Michael. He always comes back.’’ 

‘’I actually have a theory about that,’’ Charlie began, leaning closer to you as if sharing a secret. ‘’It’s the mask that makes him impossible to kill. Have you noticed that he always wears it when they proclaim him as ‘dead’? It’s probably cursed or something. That’s how he keeps surviving. They should take his mask off, and then chop his head.’’ 

‘’Like Jason and the Crystal lake? They always dump him back in the lake when he dies,’’ you said, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Charlie grinned. ‘’Exactly!’’ 

He should get up and switch the DVD, but his eyes glanced down at your pink lips, looking soft and inviting. Charlie knew the outcome wouldn’t be the one he dreamed about, but he leaned in anyway, his lips drawing closer to yours. But before they could touch, you pulled back to dodge his kiss. 

‘’Charlie…’’ you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

Embarrassment rushed through his body, his gaze dropping to the floor knowing that things would never be quite the same after this. ‘’Eh, sorry, I shouldn’t have. I should have known.’’ He shook his head, forcing a laugh. ‘’The nerd never gets the hot girl, that’s just the way it is…’’

Awkwardness filled the room, neither of you speaking for several minutes.  

‘’I���I’m gonna go switch the movie.’’ 

Left alone on the couch, you bit your bottom lip. Why didn’t you let him kiss you? You dodged his kiss by pure instinct. Because Charlie was different from the guys you dated, but different isn't always bad. You had a great time tonight in his company. He was sweet, caring, and you liked how passionate he was about the things he loved. 

Your eyes watched him carefully put the movie back into its case and take out the next. His movements were slower, dreading to return to his seat. 

‘’Charlie?’’ 

‘’Do you want another drink? Or popcorn? I could go make another round of popcorn—’’

‘’Charlie,’’ you repeated. ‘’Just come sit.’’ 

He pressed the button to slide the DVD back in the player, then returned to the couch. His heart was pounding in his chest, unable to shake off the embarrassment of his failed attempt at a kiss. He wanted the cushions to swallow him like they did to Glen in Nightmare on Elm street. 

‘’Charlie, I'm sorry I pulled away earlier,’’ you began softly, not wanting to make things any more awkward.

‘’It’s fine,’’ he brushed off, grabbing the remote and pressing ‘play’.

‘’It’s not.’’ You shifted to sit sideways, trying to get Charlie’s attention. ‘’Can we try it again? I want to change the ending.’’ 

His eyebrows furrowed in surprise, a mixture of disbelief and hope swirling in them. ‘’What?’’ 

‘’Kiss me.’’

Air got stuck in Charlie’s throat. No way you were being serious. ‘’You’re fucking with me…’’ 

You cupped the back of his neck and leaned in slowly. ‘’I never said I didn’t want to kiss you,’’ you whispered, tucking a piece of his hair behind his ear as you looked into his blue eyes. ‘’You just…took me by surprise.’’ 

Unlike in his dreams, Charlie didn't wake up, you pressed your lips against his.

You tried to keep the kiss soft and controlled, but Charlie wanted more. His hand found your hips, gently gripping them as he slipped his tongue past your lips, no longer interested in watching the movie that just began. You let your hands wander from his shoulder to his hair, pulling at the roots and eliciting sweet noises from him. He clung to you for dear life, air escaping his lungs and soon finding himself out of breath, but he couldn’t stop kissing you. You were like a drug, and he wanted more.

‘’No,’’ Charlie whined when you broke the kiss. He attempted to chase after your lips, but you kissed along his jawline, nipping and nibbling a trail from his ear down the column of his neck. ‘’Aah, fuck.’’ 

You smiled against his skin, loving how responsive he was.  

Grabbing at the front of his unbuttoned plaid shirt, you pulled him with you as you leaned against the armrest of the couch. Charlie settled into your widespread legs, shifting so he wouldn’t press his whole body weight on you. 

‘’See, sometimes the nerd does get the hot girl.’’ 

—

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[dyns33]

Halloween

Here a little rz Michael Myers x reader for Halloween !

Of course Y/N had heard of Michael Myers.

Not because she was a fan of sordid news stories, but because his had appeared in the middle of all the search results associated with that name when she had typed it online, after receiving the name of her soulmate.

Y/N had read the story. She had seen the photos of a young Michael, ten years old, who had killed his stepfather, his sister and her boyfriend.

But there were other Michael Myers in the world. It wasn't a very common name, but there were several.

So she considered it possible that he wasn't her Michael.

Why would fate have linked her to a killer ? According to his psychiatrist, he was evil. He had killed a nurse at the asylum, for no reason. He was very dangerous, he had no soul, no consideration for others, no love to give.

Y/N hadn’t read Doctor Loomis’ book. She had read enough, and she didn't want to think about this story anymore, moving on with her life and waiting to meet her soulmate.

The name of the asylum should have been familiar to her when her friend Daryl told her about it, but she wasn't really listening to that part. A childhood friend had suffered a violent breakdown, attacking his neighbors, and now he was locked up there.

"His family isn't going to see him from what I've heard. No one is going to see him. I thought… I thought it would be nice to visit him ? If you want to come ?"

She wasn't as close to Ben as she was to Daryl, but Y/N agreed, because it was indeed a charitable act, and if something similar happened to her, she hoped someone would do the same for her, not leaving her alone in such a place

. Everything was going pretty normally. Ben was calm, helped by his treatment and visibly happy to see them. Sitting together in a sort of drab canteen, they were chatting, while other patients were outside, tied to pedestals in the middle of a courtyard.

Y/N didn’t pay attention to them at first. Then a doctor rushed into the room, going towards the windows until he reached the one next to their table. He then turned towards them, then back towards the window, before settling his gaze on Y/N.

"It's you."

"… What ?"

“It’s you he’s looking at.” the doctor murmured as if fascinated.

Not understanding what he was talking about, Y/N looked at him for a long time, then at the window. No one seemed as agitated as the doctor. Everything seemed normal.

There was only this giant man, with long dirty blonde hair and an orange mask, who was turned in her direction. He actually seemed to be looking at her, but Y/N didn’t see why. She wasn't even sure if he could really see her from where he was.

The doctor had started talking again as she looked at the huge patient, but she wasn't listening. She only came back into the room when he placed a hand on her shoulder, which made her jump. Very slightly, almost imperceptibly, this also seemed to irritate the patient on the other side of the window.

"I know he's very impressive, don't look at him. Look at me. What's your name ?"

“Uh… Y/N, but I…”

"Y/N ? Y/N Y/L/N ?"

"Yes, why ?"

The doctor seemed crazy. As crazy as the patients. He looked at her like she was one of them, while Ben and Daryl were completely lost.

Not Y/N. She didn't need to read the doctor's name to understand his reaction, nor to guess how he knew hers. Even if he had never given it in his interviews or in his book, Doctor Loomis must have known the name of his favorite patient's soulmate.

The patient was still in the courtyard, watching them intently, his fists clenched.

But that didn't make sense, because he had no way of knowing who she was. They had never seen each other before, and she hadn't given her name at the door, just following Daryl. It was unlikely that Ben would have talked about her.

"He knows a lot of things. Would you like to talk to him ?" asked the doctor.

Y/N decided in that moment that he was really crazy. He could have reassured her, apologized, given her explanations, but his first instinct was to want to organize a meeting, to study Michael's reactions. Nothing else mattered.

She wanted to refuse. This didn't seem like a good idea. She could still leave and pretend she didn't understand what was happening and run away from here, never to return. But even without looking at him, she felt the eyes hidden behind the orange mask on her.

She had the feeling that his eyes would follow her everywhere from now on.

It was after she had given her consent that Doctor Loomis seemed to consider that he should promise her that she would not risk anything. Michael hadn't had an accident in years, he would be tied up, and several guards would be in the room, he wouldn't hurt her.

Very reassuring.

Michael Myers was already chained to a chair when she entered. The doctor invited her to sit opposite him.

It was hard to watch him. Not because he was huge, and scary, and weird with his mask. No, it was hard to think that her soulmate was right there, and that this would be the only interaction they would ever have, her tetanized on one side of the table, and him tied up on the other.

“Michael, do you know who this person is ?” the doctor began with a soft voice, too soft, as if he were speaking to a child.

"He knows." Y/N answered for him, still feeling his eyes on her.

She didn't turn to Loomis when he looked at her in surprise, wanting to know why she said that, how she could know. It was hard to escape those eyes.

"Good. So Michael, we often talked about Y/N when you were a kid. You couldn't wait to meet her. How do you feel today ?"

The scene was as sad as it was painful. It was obvious that Michael wouldn't speak. He hadn't spoken in years. But the doctor insisted, again and again, asking him lots of questions, making stupid remarks.

Then he wanted Y/N to speak. She didn't know what to say. She had often imagined this moment, but the meeting never happened like this. What could she say to Michael ?

"I'm sorry." was the only thing that came to her mind.

Michael didn't move, but she thought she saw something in his eyes. Loomis was not pleased, putting a hand on her shoulder to shake her and force her to say more.

As soon as his fingers touched her, Michael was on his feet, his chair falling behind him and his chains making a dangerous noise, indicating that they could break at any moment if he pulled on them a little more. The guards pointed their weapons at him, but the doctor ordered them not to move, immediately withdrawing his hand.

"Sorry, Michael. I didn't mean to make you angry. But it's very good. You reacted, it's very good. We'll do it again another day."

Y/N had no intention of doing it again another day. She didn't tell the doctor even though he asked her to leave the room.

As she passed him, Michael grabbed her hand. The guards were tense again, and the doctor became a bit more panicked, asking his patient to remain calm and not do anything stupid.

He could have hurt her badly. Y/N knew it, and that was why she had the intelligence to b afraid. But he didn't squeeze hard, just holding her hand so she would stay a bit longer, breathing hard and movingas close as possible to her despite his chains.

"… I'm sorry." she repeated, freeing herself and leaving quickly.

She hadn't given Loomis her number or address. Ben had understood that she did not want to be contacted by the doctor, promising not to give any information about her. He didn't like the doctor anyway. He had no way of finding her.

There was only one thing Y/N had forgotten. If the doctor couldn't, Michael could. He knew a lot of things, even though it seemed impossible.

He had known right away who she was, and now that his eyes had landed on her, he wouldn't leave her.

As she could not be contacted, no one called to tell her he had escaped. The media had not yet been alerted, so that the population would not panic for nothing.

Maybe Y/N could have had a doubt, noting that it was Halloween. Michael Myers was killing on Halloween night.

However, she wasn't as surprised as she might have been when she found a man in her living room. Huge, with a white mask and a mechanic's outfit. Staying in a dark corner, breathing hard and staring at her.

It was harder to see his eyes with this mask, but she could feel them. It had been over a month since they met, but she hadn't forgotten that feeling. She had often dreamed of him, waking up with a start, because these dreams often turned into nightmares.

Y/N had no idea if that would be the case now.

"… Good evening Michael." she said slowly, staying near the door.

He didn't answer. She didn't expect him to answer, so she didn't ask questions, even though she wanted to know what he wanted, if he was going to hurt her, kill her, or worse.

He didn't have a knife. It didn't mean anything, his huge hands were like weapons.

A sob escaped her without her realizing it, and Michael tilted his head to the side, watching the tear that ran down her cheek.

Then he approached with a slow step, a deceptive step, because Y/N knew very well that she couldn't escape him and that if she tried to flee, he would catch her without difficulty.

Trembling, she watched him stand in front of her, his hand touching her face to wipe away the tear. The gesture was almost gentle, like when he had stopped her in the asylum.

Maybe Loomis wasn't entirely wrong, maybe he wouldn't hurt her. The only person in the world he didn't want to hurt.

“Sorry…” she said again stupidly, continuing to tremble.

In response, he gently patted her head in a reassuring gesture, indicating that he was not angry. He must have known the effect he had on people.

He then put his hand in the pocket of his suit and took out something which he handed to her. A candy. Michael only seemed satisfied when she accepted it and put it in her mouth.

Then he left through the back door, without a word.

It was Halloween night. He had things to do.

Then maybe he would come back for her.

Y/N didn’t know. She didn't know whether to call the asylum or the police. He was a killer, a dangerous madman, the devil, the boogeyman you couldn't escape, but also her soulmate. The one she had waited for her whole life.

So she remained motionless in the living room, crying until she was exhausted, and heard the sound of the door opening again.

[word-wytch]

Don't Stand So Close To Me — Chapter 8

Eddie x Teacher!Reader

Chapter 8/? 5.5k. Series Masterlist

✏︎ Eddie goes to a Halloween party on business while you have a different sort of celebration. 

✏︎ Series Summary: Forced to move back home to Hawkins after your fiancé cheats on you, you begin to fall in love again with an audacious 20 year old metalhead, only there’s one problem — he’s still in high school and you’re his English teacher.

While you struggle starting over in a place you never thought you would return, Eddie struggles feeling stuck in a place he can’t manage to leave — until you offer to help him. Of all the lessons learned, the most important are the ones you teach each other.

✏︎ Series CW: forbidden romance, slow burn, smut (18+ mdni), true love, internal conflict, student-teacher relationship, 10 year age gap, mutual pining, sexual tension, emotions, drama, angst, character development, happy ending :)

Chapter warnings: heavy grief, heavy angst, depictions of depression, sibling death mention, drunk driving accident mention, drugs, alcohol, bullying

Saturday, October 26th 1985

There was a shadow on your heart.

It was there from the moment you woke up. A fog that made you not want to leave your bed. Not want to do anything at all. 

You didn’t, not for a long while until your bladder forced you to. And when you did, you would move from room to room in a daze. Eyes unfocused, hair and teeth unbrushed. You would search for your motivation all day, what there was left of the day anyway.

You hoped that you would find it. Somewhere in the pile of dirty dishes or in the half eaten microwaved breakfast burrito that you could barely stomach, still sitting on your table getting stale and dry — waiting for you to come back. The quiet, hopeful part of you thought that maybe you would.

Maybe it was somewhere in the pile of papers you still had yet to grade, or in the laundry you still had yet to fold. Maybe if you sat in front of the TV long enough the right song would find you on MTV and you would feel something else besides numbness and self-loathing.

David Bowie couldn’t do it. Neither could Whitney Houston. Michael Jackson tried too, over and over. You were tempted to reach for the remote if you heard “Thriller” one more time.

You wanted to murder the sky. Grey and indifferent, the pale, cold light only amplifying the heaviness inside you. Was it mocking you? Casting down drizzle, unable to expend enough for rain?  

You knew what day it was. You figured after 17 years it would be just another one, but feared for the same all at once. 

Numb as you felt, your head was anything but empty. There was all sorts of noise in there. It was loudest when the commercials came on. There was one in particular — an ad for Pumpkintown, a local attraction at one of the many farms that surrounded Hawkins. Every half hour you would hear little voices sing the familiar jingle, see their bright puffy coats as they ran through corn mazes, see their little, uncoordinated hands painting pumpkins and eating kettle corn.

Grief, as you would come to know it, was loudest in the great what if. In the wondering what might have been if things had turned out differently. Would you have nieces or nephews? Would you be on your way to Pumpkintown with them instead of sitting alone on your couch wanting to cry? You would never know.

The phone rang. It cut through the air, shrill and intrusive. You sat there for a few rings, contemplating letting it go but you were afraid the noise would just return moments later. That it wouldn’t leave you alone. 

You peeled yourself off of the couch and slugged into the kitchen. The breath you took before picking the phone up off the receiver was ragged. 

“Hello?” you answered, your first word all day.

“Hi dear, it’s mom.”

“Hey mom.” You wondered if she could hear the difference between a feigned smile and a real one. 

She wasn’t really listening though. Not that there was much to listen to in the weak “Oh yeah?”s  and the handful of “That’s nice”s you had to offer. She would talk about her book club and the drama she overheard from a friend of hers. She would talk about canning vegetables and the pumpkin pie she made the other day, how you really ought to come over and have some before it’s all gone.

“Anyway, thought I would just catch up with you,” she said finally. “How are you?”

The question surprised you. You wondered for a moment if you should answer honestly. 

“Oh, you know,” you said with a sigh, twisting the cord around your finger. “Just thinking about Mickey.” 

It was a name that was rarely said anymore. It was met with silence, rare for her. 

“Yes, it is that day,” she said finally. 

You knew she couldn’t have forgotten. You wondered about the noise in her head too, if gossiping and canning vegetables helped quiet the great what if. She hardly ever spoke about it since it happened. That always bothered you.

“I miss him,” you said weakly.

Her sigh filled another pause. “I do too.”

______

Eddie flicked his lighter and ignited the end of his cigarette. He leaned up against his van in Gareth’s driveway and took a long drag, looking around the neighborhood at the carefully groomed lawns. The wet, fallen leaves brought down by the wind the only thing that littered the pristine sidewalk. 

He exhaled the smoke into the damp night air, watching as it wafted across the driveway, up toward the glowing street lamps. 

The garage door startled him when it opened. 

Gareth hobbled out, lugging an amp. “Hey man, sorry it took me so long. Jeff left this here for you, he got his fixed so he doesn’t need it anymore.”

Eddie tapped the ash off the end of his cigarette and slid open the side door of the van. “Thanks, uh, you can just slide it in behind the back seat.” 

Gareth waddled over and set the amp down with a heavy thud as Eddie opened the driver’s side door and crawled in. He took another drag of his cigarette as Gareth fussed with the amp, sliding it back in the cabin behind the long bench.

The movement paused for a moment. “Dude what’s up with all the napkins back here?”

Eddie whipped his head around. “Don’t touch those.”

Gareth looked at him — wary and wide-eyed as he slowly exited the side of the van, coming around to take the passenger’s seat like he was afraid to even ask.

Eddie held the cigarette between his lips as he dug through the pile of tapes in the center console. “Bingo,” he said, popping Motörhead’s Overkill into the tape player and slamming it shut. He flicked his wrist and the Chevy Nomad roared to life.

Eddie banged his head as Gareth air drummed the solo to the opening track. He cranked the shift stick and hit the gas to back out. They took off, cruising down the dark suburban street with a roar and a rumble. 

“I just stopped at Rick’s right before you so we’re gonna have to roll as we go,” Eddie shouted over the music, tapping his hands against the steering wheel to the beat.

“Sounds good man,” Gareth shouted back, hammering at the dashboard with his hands.

By the time they arrived, the party was already raging. People still arriving in droves, parked cars piling up in the woods and down the long street outside of Tina’s house. Typically Eddie liked to arrive fashionably late, but after he and Gareth had to wade through a sea of bodies just to find Tina, he was having regrets about that. The thing was, Eddie needed a place to be for his operation. A table and a place to sit and roll was not only preferable, but rather necessary considering the party size.

Thankfully she wasn’t wearing a wig or a mask or they might have never found her on the back porch. Instead her mousey brown hair was styled in a 60s bob and tied back in a headband, completing her go-go girl look.

She led them into the packed living room.

“Move, dealer needs the table,” she shouted over the music, nudging the guy in the toga parked on the loveseat with her white go-go boot.

Her demand was met with looks of annoyance, but Tina just stood there with her arms crossed until they resigned, leaving only wet rings behind on the glass coffee table.

“All yours, boys.”

Would people know where to find him? Should he put up a sign? He supposed the best he could do was Tina’s word of mouth and their ongoing operation for everyone to see in the middle of the living room.

It turns out that was all he needed. They would sell for $5 a pop. And probably quicker if Gareth wasn’t so shitty at rolling.

“Woah, woah, man that’s like way too much. Here—” He took the overflowing paper out of Gareth’s hands and demonstrated. “You gotta use the filter as a guide, and start with like half as much dude.” Eddie rolled it in his fingers until it evened out, then he tucked the paper behind the filter licked along the edge to seal it, twisting the end in a final flourish. “See? Like that.” 

 Gareth snorted and took a swig of beer. “Ok Edward, master of the roll.” 

Eddie gave him a look, doing a piss poor job at hiding his smirk. “I mean the point is to make money, man. If you roll them too fat it not only looks terrible but we’re just giving away weed.”

Gareth sighed and looked at him over the can at his lips. “Got it, sensei.”

“Good ‘cause we’re selling fast.” Eddie loaded up the grinder, feeling the grit of the resin as he twisted it in his hands. 

His mind wandered, as it always did, to you. He thought about you at a Halloween party. Wondered what sort of costume you would have. Probably something smart like Nancy Drew, or geekishly obscure like Jane Eyre, or maybe you would go the fantasy route and be Arwen, elf ears and all.

He wondered how you would be at a party. Pensively sipping your drink, making keen observations about the partygoers. Maybe you’d have fun too, after a few more. After a song you liked came on and he dragged you out of the corner to dance like fools. 

He wished that you could be here. Well, maybe not here watching him sell weed but maybe in another timeline. In the absence of the wall that was built between you long before either of you had any say in it. 

Eddie tapped the contents of the grinder out onto his rolling tray and got to work.

There were so many people that had come by his table that they were all starting to blend together. How many devils, ghosts, and cowboys would he see before the night was over? It was yet to be determined and the night was very young.

What was hard to miss was the gang of jocks in leather jackets and white t-shirts, hair slicked back like greasers. There were at least five of them, and they all came in at once together like some wannabe boy band, lead by none other than Jason Carver.

It was also hard to miss the angel standing next to him. Literally. Chrissy Cunningham in huge feather wings, a tight white dress, and a sparkling gold halo.

He was certain that his gaze would be lost in the sea of people. He hoped that it would be. Hoped that they would walk right past and never even see him. 

But Chrissy did. By some split second miracle, some sixth sense.

Her eyes found his from across the room. She smiled at him, bright and blinding.

______

The darkness in the room alarmed you when you opened your eyes, struggled to rather. Bleary and squinting against the white light from the television, you rubbed the sleep from them. 

You sat up on the couch and wiped the drool off your face, wondering what time it was. The clock on your wall said something like 8:30, but it was hard to tell and your eyes were still adjusting.

Your stomach growled and you thought about the breakfast burrito still sitting on your kitchen table. It was still the last thing you had eaten. You ran your tongue across your teeth, scummy and in need of brushing. The pile of laundry was still there too, sitting crumpled in a basket next to you. The papers still sitting in a pile on your coffee table, untouched.

“Thriller” was playing. Again. Your hand itched for the remote but it was buried somewhere in the couch so instead you just sat there. You sat there and watched like you had done half a dozen times already today. You watched as Michael Jackson danced around like a werewolf in his red suit, unable to peel your eyes from the screen.

You watched him and thought about Eddie Munson at a party. 

Thought about him in a darkened basement, the air thick with smoke and sound. Crowded with people like him who wanted to get away, muffled music coming through ceiling from upstairs. He would be there, strewn across a couch or leaning against a wall. Cigarette in one hand, beer in another. He would bring the bottle to his lips and look at you with those dark eyes. Lids heavy as the buzz washed over him, relaxing deeper into the space he occupied. He would drape his arm across the back of the couch, beckoning you to sit closer.

It was easy to imagine. How easy it would be to slide up next to him. To lean in a little too close. To feel the heat from his body as he talked about music, his bright voice filling the space between you, what little there was. To catch the scent of his clothing, of his skin as he leaned closer to talk over the noise, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear. 

How easy it would be to turn your head and catch those lips in yours. Soft, plush, and needy. You imagined how his tongue would feel as it coaxed against yours. Smoke acrid, the taste of beer still lingering on it. 

It was easy to imagine those strong hands of his, how they would feel gripping your thigh or your hip as he pulled you closer. Those tendons and bones you recalled so vividly when he’d graced you with the chance to touch him. You could imagine how they would feel other places.

It was easy to imagine that just about any girl would see him and want the same thing.

And who would he be to say no? To some girl dressed as a cat or a rabbit barely wearing any clothes, looking at him like she wanted to take a bite. 

Your stomach lurched.

It would be easy. Easy for them to find a quiet place to take things further.

You imagined, for a moment, what it would be like to be her. To be in that darkened basement, amidst the laughing and shouting and chaos of others around you too wrapped up in their own world to notice how his hands are wandering. How his lips are wandering too. Dizzying as they track across your jaw, down your neck. How his tongue lathes at the skin there, the buzz from the drink in his other hand only amplifying the need you can feel in his teeth. 

He would look at you with those dark, lust-blown eyes and you would know exactly what he wants. He would mutter in your ear and let his palm slip from around your waist only to take your hand. To lead you out of the darkened basement to a bedroom, or out to his van. 

You imagined those strong shoulders of his. How they felt under his t-shirt and how they would feel without it. If he would even bother to remove it or if his need would render that too inconvenient.

It wouldn’t be that hard — to find a spot to sit in the back of his van. Dark and quiet save for the deep bass and muffled voices from the party raging on in the distance. To lose what little clothing you had on and crawl atop his lap. To wrap your arms around those solid shoulders as his curious fingers explored you below. 

How could he help himself? When you’re right there, wanting him so evidently. When it’s something he can feel with his fingers and taste on his tongue when those fingers leave your heat. Who would he be to stop himself from giving you what you want? 

And his voice. Would his voice still be as bright as he sunk himself into you or would it be colored differently — shaded with hoarseness as his heavy sighs filled the space between you? How would it color the thick night air as the pressure mounted inside of him? Would he use his words? Would he be able to when the pressure was too much? What new colors would there be then? 

It was easy to imagine. 

So easy that it made you sick. 

It sat in the pit of your stomach and gnawed at any fleeting hunger you might have had when you woke up. Like a tapeworm.

It whispered things to you. That he would be better off with a girl his own age anyway. That you were a short-lived fascination in his fast life. That he would grow tired of you too. Things that sounded truer the longer you sat with them in the darkness of your living room.

There was shame too. Shame for even letting yourself get to this point. For feeling this way about your student of all people. For having hope to begin with. After all, he had done so many things to give it to you.

You thought about all the parties you never went to. All the darkened basements you were never led away from. All the colors that you never got to hear, and taste, and touch in sacrifice for good behavior. 

It was an experience that you would give anything to have. 

You thought about Eddie Munson and his boyish smile. The way his hand felt when it took yours. The kindness in his eyes. The shame you saw in them too.

You thought about him coming home from the party. Cruising down a dark, winding road in his van, taking the curves and bends with a reckless abandon, fueled by the music pounding in his speakers and the vices in his veins. You thought about his wild hair catching the wind from the window he lowered to taste the rush of being alive.  

You thought about him taking one of those bends too tightly. How top-heavy vans could be. How slick the roads were. How easy it would be not to notice someone else coming around the corner.

And just like that you were in your pyjamas again, barefoot on the carpet of your childhood living room. Your heart pounding into your throat as you watched your parents from behind at the front door. The flashing of red, white, and blue from outside the big front window the only light in the darkness. It streaked across your family photos and painted the paneled walls. 

You wondered what they would say about him. What all the other teachers would say when he didn’t show up to school on Monday. What the whole town would say when their papers and televisions told them he would never show up to school again.

Would they change their tune or would it only make them sing it louder? That he was always trouble. That it was his own fault. That it was only a matter of time. That he had no future anyway. You could almost hear Ms. O’Donnell. Almost hear the half-hearted comments from the others about what a shame it was, the truth of their feelings masked with a weak display of sympathy for a day or two.

Would he amount to nothing more than a warning? A cautionary tale at school assemblies? An example of how not to be?  

Your hands gripped the couch, stomach churning. 

It was easy to imagine. As easy as it was to remember.

______

Eddie had never been to a house party that wasn’t obnoxious. Obnoxious was kind of the point.

He wasn’t sure if it was the shitty music, or the fact that people kept kicking the back of the loveseat he was stationed at, or the drunken caterwauling from the sexy inmate in the corner as she sloshed her drink all over the carpet. Maybe it was the kick drum that pounded in his chest and forced him to smell the beer on the breath of his buyers as they slurred their orders.

He brought his own can to his lips and took the last swig of the warm beer that remained in the bottom of it. His arms felt like jello. Even still, he wished that he was more numb than he was. His mouth was cotton dry and Gareth still had not returned with the drinks that he said he was going to get half an hour ago. He was well past the point of agitated. 

The whole room was packed shoulder to shoulder and smelled like cigarettes, beer, and sweat. He was cornered in it, but he couldn’t leave his goods sitting out without someone to watch them and he couldn’t leave either or he would forfeit his spot. Where was Gareth? He was going to strangle him. 

Eddie glanced around the packed room, his heart kicking up in a panic. Hindsight pierced his haze. He should have brought Jeff too, but he hated these kinds of house parties. Now that he was alone with a table full of drugs and a lunchbox full of money, he was starting to realize how dangerous that was.

That’s when he felt a dip in the seat next to him.

Chrissy Cunningham leaned back into the couch with a heavy sigh, crushing her feather wings behind her. Her gold garland halo sat crooked atop her head.

Eddie’s stomach dropped.

“Hey,” she said breathlessly, “Mind if I sit here? My feet are killing me.” She stretched her legs out, smooth and polished. The rhinestones on her stilettos caught the light as she kicked them off.

“Sure,” he said hesitantly, glancing around again. “You don’t think your boyfriend would mind?” He couldn’t hide the suspicion in his voice. 

Chrissy rolled her eyes and propped her plush cheek against her hand, her elbow resting on the back of the white leather couch. “He’s outside doing keg stands, I don’t think he even noticed I left.”

Eddie sat back a little in his seat, unconvinced. “I uh, brought a friend too but it seems like he ditched me.”

“Oh no,” she mumbled, scooting closer. “I can keep you company.”

He froze, noticing how dangerously close her red drink was to her white dress. The way her hand jerked as she struggled to keep it balanced. “You uh…you ok?”

“Yeah ‘m good, ‘m good,” she muttered, “Thanks for asking.”

Drunken hollering filled the silence between them as Eddie racked his brain over what to say next. The packed bodies in the dim living room swayed to Rockwell’s one hit wonder.

I always feel like

Somebody’s watching me

“Nice costume.” It was the best he could do.

“What are you dressed as?” she teased, playing with one of the pins on his vest. 

Eddie swallowed, glancing down at the pearl white nail polish on her delicate fingers as she twisted the pin. “Just your friendly neighborhood drug dealer.” 

Chrissy batted her eyes at him. “Mm yeah, you are friendly,” she breathed, scooting even closer. She tucked her legs underneath her and rested her head against her arm on the back of the couch. 

He could feel the heat from her body. Smell the sugary drink on her breath as it ghosted over his face. He was close enough to notice the patches on her lips where the red had rubbed off onto the cup. Close enough to see how the redness in her eyes intensified the green irises under her hooded lids.

She was sitting so close that he failed to notice how many greasers were crowding around the table. In fact he didn’t until one of them said something.

“Hey,” Jason barked. He reached over the table to snatch one of the joints, his smile dripping with acid as he waved it in front of Eddie’s face. “How much to leave my fucking girlfriend alone?” 

Eddie felt his ghost leave his body.

“Jason—“ Chrissy balked.

“Get up.”

“I was just looking for a place to sit, these heels are—“

“I said get up,” Jason spat. 

Chrissy stumbled off the couch, pulling down the white, skin tight dress that had ridden up her thighs. She almost tripped over her shoes.

“Why do I keep catching you and my girlfriend together? Hm?” Jason rolled the joint around in his fingers. A few gelled strands of his slicked back hair had come as unhinged as he was.

Eddie rolled his eyes to mask his panic. “Calm down. She’s been sitting here for like two minutes. Jesus.”

“Yeah, yeah. You know,” he said, looking around, “There just aren’t any other seats in this whole goddamn house are there?” He laughed dryly. “Not a single one!”

Eddie’s eyes flashed to Chrissy. Would she say something? Did Jason know she invited him? Was it a secret?  

It was the panic in her eyes that told him. “Apparently not,” he said curtly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have business to attend to.” He gestured to the joint in Jason’s hands. “That’ll be five dollars.”

“Oh I’m not finished with you, freak.”

“Jason—“

“Why don’t you go find a seat somewhere else, babe.” His words were a gentle venom.

“I’m fine,” Chrissy choked out.

“You know I’d really hate for those pretty feet of yours to get a blister,” he threatened. “Why don’t you go find Tina and have her get a chair for you, hm?”

Chrissy looked hesitant, eyes meeting Eddies for a split second before darting back over to Jason. Met with only daggers, she picked her heels up off the carpet and stormed off.

“Now then,” Jason said as he took her seat on the couch. The jocks in jackets crowded closer, closing off the table from the rest of the pulsing room. “Why don’t you tell me,” he started, grabbing Eddie’s lighter off the table to ignite the the joint in his fingers. “What makes you think you can talk to my girlfriend?”

Eddie seethed, his chest pounding, and not from the kick drum anymore. Where is the fuck is Gareth? 

“What makes you think you’re above paying for shit like everyone else?” He snapped back. “Your daddy teach you that?”

An audible ripple of shock emanated from the jocks in jackets.

“Wow look at that boys, he’s as funny as he is brilliant,” Jason retorted. “Let me ask you something else, freak.” He leaned in close enough for Eddie to smell the beer on his breath. “What the hell were you doing with our English teacher after school the other day?”

Eddie’s stomach dropped. “I—“ he steeled his face for the lie, “Jesus I just saw her in the hallway, man. We were both leaving, why the fuck does it matter?”

“See my buddy Donnie over here has a few questions for you too.” 

Eddie looked up. That’s when he recognized him. The athlete. The cigarette. 

“You a little hall monitor now, Munson? Huh?” Donnie uttered, earning jeers from the others.

“See I have a theory” Jason leaned even closer, blowing smoke in Eddie’s face. “That you’re turning into a teacher’s pet.” 

“Get the fuck out of my face,” Eddie spat. “You can keep the joint.”

“Ooh see that boys?” Jason laughed. “So defensive. You know what I think? I think the freak has a big fat crush.”

The crowd erupted, practically tripping over themselves now.

All Eddie could offer was dry laugh, shaking his head. His voice caught in his throat, face hot. Gripping the seat of the couch was all he could do to stop his hands from shaking. Where the fuck is Gareth?

“See look, he’s not denying it!” Jason announced to his cronies. The response was uproarious laughter. “You’re a real fuckin’ perv aren’t you?”

Eddie seethed. “You’re an entitled cocksucker in the way of my customers.” 

Then there was the commentary from the peanut gallery. Even over the music he could hear it.

“He can’t even get girls his own age,” Patrick muttered.

“Yeah he’s so old he’s going after the teachers now,” wheezed Donnie.  

Eddie felt the blood drain from his face. Felt a deep shame bubble up from the pit of his stomach. 

“You know what, I’m out. You can tell Tina who’s fault it was.” Eddie flipped open his black metal lunchbox with one hand and grabbed a handful of joints with the other, tossing them in unceremoniously.

“Woah woah who said we were finished?” Jason said through a crazed laugh. “You’re here to make deals right? Well I came here to make a deal too.”

Eddie offered him nothing more than a glance, packing away his grinder, his papers, his filters.

“Here’s the deal,” he said leaning in closer. “You stay the fuck away from my girlfriend, and I won’t make your life even more of a pathetic nightmare.” 

Eddie bit his lip. Better get her a collar then so she knows who she belongs to. 

It killed him not to say it. Physically hurt him not to. He wanted to spit it in his face but the lunchbox in front of him full of drugs and money kept his mouth buttoned. They could steal it all if they wanted. They could steal it all right now and get away with it too.

Jason grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, forcing Eddie to face him. “Do we have a deal, freak? I know you’re good at deals.”

“Deal,” Eddie spat,“Now get your fucking hands off me,” he said with a shove.

Jason sat back in his seat, smoothing his hand through his hair. “See? That wasn’t so hard was it?” 

______

Eddie stormed through the house. He surged through the kitchen, the dining room, the basement. He pushed through the sweaty bodies packing the stairwell and banged on all the bedroom doors, only to open them to half naked couples yelling at him from the darkness. He had been at this for twenty minutes now and still no sign of Gareth.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to just leave him. He was about to.

But then he thought about you. He thought about your brother. About how wasted everyone at this party was and how Gareth would find his way home. Eddie had sobered up plenty.

He thought about the looks on all their faces when they mentioned you. A familiar shame twisted in his gut. He knew the serpent well. Felt its sting since he could remember. The sting that came from bringing an ugly self-made peanut butter sandwich to middle school and unwrapping it in front of kids who’s moms packed notes.

Today the sting came from clean cut jocks at a normal party dressed in normal costumes looking down at him and his table full of drugs and saying that his heart was ugly too. That the flutters it felt when the kindness in your eyes soothed him like a balm were monstrous and disgusting. 

When he finally saw the glow of Gareth’s face by the fire pit he couldn’t tell if he was more relieved or enraged by the sight of him. Beer in hand, yucking it up with some chick dressed as Velma from Scooby Doo.

Eddie marched over to them, fuming. “We’re leaving. Now,” he barked.

“Dude what the fuck?”

“Thanks for leaving me back there for the past hour.” 

“Well I wasn’t gonna sit there all night, that was kind of the deal.”

“Oh yeah? Well you could have at least told me. At least come back and let me take a piss for fuck’s sake. You know I can’t exactly leave drugs and money unattended.”

Gareth sighed, glancing over at Velma with a wince. “Sorry man, I kind of got sidetracked. Cindy this is,” he gestured in annoyance, “Eddie by the way.”

Eddie, tight lipped, waved his hand unceremoniously.

“Come on, just sit and hang out with us.”

“I don’t wanna hang out, I just wanna go,” Eddie said, looking around anxiously.

Gareth looked him over, eyebrows knitting. “Did something… happen, man?”

Eddie glanced at Cindy, at the wary concern painting her face. He shifted his eyes toward the other people packed around the fire, laughing and drinking. “I’ll tell you in the car.”

Gareth met him with a wide-eyed mixture of disappointment and worry. “Come on, man. Give me like half an hour?”

In the waning of his rage, Eddie could feel the exhaustion setting in. Feel how thirsty he still was, how his ears were ringing from the noise, how his chest still rattled from the fear. His eyes turned to pleading. “Please.”

Gareth sighed, defeated. “Fine.”

______

A/N: Fun fact, I use a real calendar from 1985/86 to outline the story and I checked out of curiosity what day the Halloween party her brother attended would have been and it actually was Saturday, Oct 26th 1968. 1985 and 1968 use the exact same calendar. I wasn’t even planning on making it the exact anniversary but it just worked out that way. 

Another fun fact, Eddie dealing at Tina’s Halloween party as a plot point and the fact that Jason and the boys were dressed like greasers was inspired by one of my absolute favorite fics Oh, Baby by @inknopewetrust. Seriously, go read it. One of the best.

Thank you so much everyone, you know what to do — If you loved it, share it and let me know!

I really do try my best to respond to all your comments. 💋

Taglist: @mermaidsandcats29 @toxicjayhoo @ooo-protean-ooo @jadequeen88 @wroteclassicaly @kissmyacdc @mantorokk-writes @loveshotzz @newlips @chainsawmunson @trashmouth-richie @bebe0701 @latenighttalkingwithgrapejuice @bibieddiesgf @idkidknemore @alizztor @godcreatoreli @shotgunhallelujah @ethereal27cereal @munsonsgirl71 @luna-munson83 @eddiemunsonsbitcch @tlclick73 @emxxblog @siriusmuggle @sidthedollface2 @dollalicia @lma1986 @catherinnn @eddiemunson4life420 @readsalot73 @ruby-dragon @3rriberri @princess-eddie @nightless @eddieswifu @thew0rldsastage @quinnsfineline @jo-harrington @chaoticgood-munson @edsforehead @hanahkatexo @eddiemunsonsbedroom @beep-beep-sherlock @emily-roberts @averagemisfit03 @vintagehellfire @haylaansmi @carolmunson

[nothomegal]

“The little owl family” (Part 3)

(RZ!Michael Myers x GNReader)

Summary: your and your little sister’s life had an 180° turn when your parents got into a severe car crash, dying on the spot. You, being already past 18 had to figure out how to keep things afloat and give yourself, specially your sister, a good future. And you did! It was hard but you did it and became the absolute hero in the little girl’s eyes. People would often involuntary smile at the dynamic of your two, so wholesome and supportive, the perfect family bond.Bond that a certain Boogeyman noticed as well…

Warnings: typical mentions of murder, Mikey being obsessive and violent.

Word Count: 4k. (Sorry for so much text- )

Additional info: Gender Neutral reader. (S/N) = sister’s name.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6)

Both siblings have returned home after making a visit to the plice station. (Y/N) was a bit moody but mostly relieved that the police finally listened. They already visited the station, the day after finding the dinosaur drawing, but of course everyone thought they were crazy for freaking out over a scrible, saying that maybe some teens saw them around the Myers house and decided to prank them. They had non of it yet couldn't do much, the only advice the cop gave them was to close the doors and keep the inside of the house private.

Now however, when the police heard (S/N)'s testimony that's when they took it more serious. Sure, the probability of it being some dumbass dressing up to be funny was there, yet it worth checking just in case, specially when knowing that the real Michael Myers kidnapped his sister. And who knows, maybe he'll do the same but with some random child...

—"(Y/N)..."—

(S/N)'s gentle voice shut all overwhelming thoughts inside (Y/N)'s mind. They slowly put the knife next to the cooking board and look at their sister.

—"What is it songbird? Still scared?"—

The girl fidgets with her fingers a bit while staring on the tiled kitchen floor. Eventually she sighs and her arms drop.

—"I'm sorry..."—

(Y/N) blinks a couple of times, confused with their sudden apology.

—"Sorry? For what?"— you ask, genuinely confused.

—"For starting all this mess... I think Terry is right, I'm just a scaredy cat that overreacted."— she says, her expression guilty.

Their eyes widened slightly, they walk over to their sister and kneel in front of her.

—"You did nothing wrong sweetheart, you actually did the right thing! The police is there to help, to protect us."— you say softly as you cup her cheek. —"And you better get ready because tomorrow I'll say Terry some not-so-nice things to that goblin so he leaves you alone."—

—"It's... It's not about Terry anymore, it's about you (Y/N)."— she lowers her gaze even more. —"I- I don't like how much you have to worry now, and it's all because of me! If-... If I just stayed quiet, if I didn't ask to see that dumb old house we would be okay and happy, and we would be able to celebrate Halloween!... I ruined it all I- "—

Before (S/N) could continue with her rant, her sibling wraps their arms around her form tightly, holding her close in silence for a few seconds.

—"I said you did nothing wrong. This situation could've happe to anyone, and we got the unluky number. I know you're worried about me and I admit that I may not be at my best state, but it will pass eventually and everything will be right again."— you lean back a bit, your gaze warm. —"We just need to hold on a bit, until the police catches that scary man. I'm sure it will be soon."—

(S/N), more calm, nods as she wipes the little tears that were threatning to slide down her cheeks.

—"Was that man Michael Myers?... Is he the Boogeyman?..."—

(Y/N)'s body goes stiff as they think what to answer. They haven't told their sister about the stranger's identity, not wanting to scare her even further but it seems like (S/N) started to figure out the whole situation by herself.

—"I-... I don't know."— you sigh, but she doesn't seem convinced. —"Myers is supposed to be in the asylum and- "—

—"He escaped... Did he?"— she glances at you.

After a little pause, their sibling nods, their expression a bit sad, even ashamed for trying to keep her oblivious. But the girl had no anger or resentment in her eyes, but a desire to know.

—"What did he do so everyone are so scared of him?..."—

—"I'm... I'm not sure you want to know that... Long story short; very scary and bad things."—

—"What things? Please tell me (Y/N)! I promise I won't get scared!"— she begs you in a childish tone.

(Y/N) remains quiet, thinking. Eventually they sigh and stand up.

—"You better take a sit, I'll go get you a poptart."— you simply say.

The girl gets a little spine chill, both excited and worried about what her sibling is about to tell her. Ones the girl took her sit on the dining table and was munching the sweet treat, (Y/N) starts speaking while resuming their cooking.

—"Last year, a few days before Halloween, all grown up Michael Myers escaped. He killed people while doing it, and not in a pretty way..."—

(S/N) freezes mid bite.

—"K-Killed?..."—

—"Yes... Killed. One of the victims was one of his caretakers, a sweet old man that was there since he was a kid..."—

(Y/N) could see how physically uncomfortable their sister got, even if the details of how he killed him weren't mentioned. They began to feel bad for the little girl and were ready to stop the 'story telling', but the girl proved to be tougher than expected.

—"And what happened after he escaped?..."—

—"He... He tracked his little sister, that is now a teen. He murdered her adoptive parents, a friend and then kiddnapped her, nearly killing her as well in the process. The sister survived though, and Michael Myers supposedly died when she shot him, but as we can see he didn't..."—

The little girl listens quietly, taking in the information and shrinking on her sit every second, the munched poptart still untouched in her shaky hands.

—"Is he... Is he coming to kills us?"— she finally asks.

There are a few seconds of silence, until (Y/N) breaks it, their tone loud, strict, cold... Yet burning with anger and determination.

—"I won't allow it."— and you meant it. —"If he dares to come, I will break every single limb of his. He's not touching you while I'm still breathing."—

Such tone took (S/N) off guard, she never saw her sibling be so cold and serious about anything.

—"But... But what if he hurts you?..."—

—"He won't. Mom and dad won't allow him."— you reply with a softer tone and then turn towards her. —"Even if they're not here, they still taking care of us. We'll be okay, songbird. I promise."— you smile.

The girl remains silent, observing their expression to see if they're just pretending, but (Y/N)'s look and words seemed genuine. She eventually smiles back with a toothy grin.

—"You're right! Bet the ghost of mom and dad are going to haunt him if he dares to come!"—

—"Oh they definetely will! Dad was scary but angry mom was even scarier!"—

And the dull atmosphere from before vanished in a blink of an eye, the siblings talking about random topic which would make them either laugh or argue. The tunes coming out from the speaker only made their afternoon even better, singing or even dancing, anything to keep the dark thoughts away.

But of course, they weren't enjoying it alone. The dark presence was outside, hiding in the shadows. Even though he couldn't see (Y/N) through the windows anymore, due to the curtains they strictly maintained closed, their tone alone was enough to make him feel the same adrenaline spike, his chest heavy with some sort of excitement. The way their cold voice managed to penetrate and shake every single bone and muscle inside of him was an indescribable feeling, yet so, so adicting. They knew who he is, the atrocities he commited and how much of a threat he is, yet they made it clear how many fucks they give about it, only worrying about the safety of the little one.

And now... Now that the atmosphere inside of the house changed, so did his mood. The way they both laughed, chanted, danced... Every single interaction between these two radiated with warmth, warmth strong enough to keep the crude outside world away from their little happy home.

From their little happy family...

Happy family...

He should be envious of them, he should be mad at them for having what he could never have, she should try to destroy it, to destroy the both of them so he stops feeling bad...!

But... He doesn't. He doesn't feel bad at all, none of these negative and destructive feelings are haunting him, not ones. It's the oposite, he actually feels warmth whenever he observes them, some alien coziness that unknowingly to him would make his body relax and gaze soft. He's not sure why he feels like this, but he can't deny the fact that if feels good... Peaceful, he feels at peace for ones in his wretched life.

He should be content with that, with what he has it should be enough, it should... But he knows that his mind will crave for more...

And it's only a matter of time before he loses control.

. . .

October 28th.

The last couple of days been pretty uneventful, the 'Boogeyman' wasn't mentioned anymore and didn't appear ones, even the owl family resumed their carefree lifestyle and were already teaching their babies to fly!

But unfortunately, tonight the siblings couldn't observe the birds due to a hard storm outside. Rain, wind, thunder, you named it all.

(S/N) was in (Y/N)'s room, she was quite scared of thunders so of course she would ask to sleep with their sibling who, unlike the young one, was probably having the best sleep of their life.

The bed was quite wide so they both fit without any issue, each one with their own blanket.

At some point though, a particulary loud thunder resonated, which made (S/N) cuddle closed to (Y/N). The mentioned sibling woke up due the loud sound but thought nothing of it, ready to close their eyes and go back to sleep.

But suddenly, an alarming feeling striked in their gut. Something felt wrong, is the air colder? Heavier? Is their heartbeat too loud? Is the house too silent? It's hard to tell what exactply isn't right, but they know something is.

They suddenly sit up, their eyes wide and staring at the door. The little girl felt the sudden movement and also sit up, though her form sleepy and confused.

—"Uh?... What's wrong?"— she mumbles before yawning.

—"...I don't know."— you reply, still staring at the door.

The girl blinks a couple of times and also looks at the door. They both remain in this position completely still, barely breathing, until a very faint thud resonated somewhere downstairs. Sure, the noise could mean whatever, but the sense of dread inside of (Y/N) only increased, demanding them to take actions.

—"{Songbird.}"— you whisper, your tone urgent. —"{I want you to tiptoe towards the closet and hide in there, do not come out until I say so.}"—

—"{B-But- }"—

She has no time to ask questions because (Y/N) had stand up and was already searching under their bed for something. They eventually find what they've been looking for, a hunting rifle.

They then look up and glance at their sister, who was completely frozen on the bed with a horrified expression.

—"{Just go hide, please. And if things get ugly...}"— you pause, glancing at the door briefly. —"{Then run away, run towards our next house neighbors and ask them to call the police, okay?"}—

—"{But (Y/N)!... Y-You-...}"—

They nudge her side gently, silently telling her to stop talking and hide. With a huge effort the girl manages to make her body move again and as quietly as she could she made her way towards the closet, hiding her form inside and gently closing the door.

(Y/N) remained in place, near the bed with the rifle already pointing at the door. For solid five minutes absolutely nothing happened, the wind kept howling, the rain pouring and the thunders striking, but nothing else, there were no more odd sounds inside the hou-

Footsteps, the unmistakable sound of footsteps resonated from the stairs. Whoever was walking was doing it slowly, casually even, as if they owned the place. (Y/N) kept their posture, pre aiming at the door and simply waiting, if the intruder is bold enough to enter into their room they'll shoot without thinking twice. Sure, the idea of killing another human is scary and definetely puts their mind even more on edge, but it's either their and (S/N)'s or the intruder's life.

The footsteps eventually stop right in front of the door. There are another good few minutes of silence but it's suddenly interrupted by a loud and bright thunder, which illuminated the whole room and the hall. And right there, through the door crack, they saw an unmistakable shadow of a human.

With no time to waste and with enough evidence that there is an intruder, (Y/N) pulls the trigger.

BANG!

A faint line of smoke is coming out the rifle, but there was no thud or screams of pain at the other side of the door, nothing.

They remain in position for a while but after not hearing anything, or seeing through the tiny hole they just made, (Y/N) slowly lowers the gun, questioning if there even was someone or it's actually their unhealthy paranoia getting the best of them.

They got their answer when the door practically flew off it's hanles and a giant dark mass charged at them. They try to aim and shoot again but the intruder is way faster and manages to grab the end of the rifle and tilt it up the moment (Y/N) pulls the trigger again, making them shoot at the ceiling.

They both struggle, (Y/N) desperately trying to get the gun free but the intruder is way too strong, he's also big, which makes it nearly impossible to push away.

Realizing that things are actually about to get ugly, they shout.

—"(S/N)! RUN!"—

The closet door swings open and the little girl sprints out the room, quietly crying and extremely scared. The massive stranger stopped for a brief moment when he heard the girl, it was just a moment of stillness that ended up with him practically ripping off the rifle out of (Y/N)'s grasp and throwing it agains the wall with great force.

The next thing they know is that the intruder managed to get to their neck. Ones has a firm hold of it, he stands up to his full height and slams their body against the wall, knocking out any oxygen left in their lungs. It didn't stop (Y/N) from struggling though, doing their best to land a kick on his stomack or the lower (and more painful) parts, yet their attempts were cut short when the stranger began to squeeze their neck with both hands, making their struggles weaker.

Eventually, the lack of oxygen began to affect (Y/N) and their arms drop and their body goes numb. Only when they nearly fainted, is when the stranger lose his grip, not enough to let go but enough to let them breathe as they're kept in place.

Durning this little moment of calm another thunder striked and illuminated the room, allowing them to see the emotionless face of the stranger, staring right into their sould.

—"{Myers...}"— you mouth breathlessly.

A sudden little thud followed by a rubber squeak got their attention. (Y/N)'s eyes wide and fill with terror when they see (S/N) standing in the doorway with a little pile of toys in one arm.

—"Leave them alone! You ugly monster!"—

She exclaims as she throws another toy into Michael's broad back, the toy making little to no harm. The man merely glances over his shoulder, his gaze now focused on her little frame.

—"You're mad at us because we visited your home, are you?! (Y/N) did absolutelly nothing wrong, we went there because of me! I am the guilty one! You should've punish me instead!"—

She exclaims again, tears sliding down her cheeks like rivers yet she didn't care. The girl stood high and threw another toy.

—"Or you want to take them away?! I know you have a little sister too, I- "— she hiccups a bit. —"I can be your new little sister! Please take me! Punish me! B-But please! Please leave (Y/N) alone!"—

The girl ends up desperately sobbing, both scared of the man in front of her and the fact that her sibling may disappear forever. Michael slowly turns towards her as he lets go of (Y/N), their body falling into the floor as they gasp for air.

The man starts to slowly and menacingly walk towards (S/N). The girl suddenly realized the mess she just got herself into as she starts to back away, throwing the rest of her toys at the man in a desperate attempt to slow him down, but all they did is bounce off his body into the floor.

—"W-Wait! Ne-Never mind! I- I ch-changed my mind! I don't want t-to go anywhere!"— she lets out a squeak when her back hit the wall in the hall.

The massive man gets even closer, his shadow making the already dark house even darker, darkness that threatens to engulf anything and never let go. The girl lets out a terrified cry as she shields herself with her hands.

—"(Y/N)!"—

The desperate cry of their name made them regain their conscience quickly, they see Michael Myers being just two feets away from their sister, blocking any escape with his broad figure as he extends his hand towards the little girl. Oh god he's about to strangle her just like he attempted with them!

(S/N) is in danger.

They must save her.

No matter what.

But what both siblings failed to see, was the way Michael moved his arm towards the little girl. His movements where slow and smooth, no aggression reflected in them.

When he was about to brush his finger agains (S/N)'s arm, a spartan-like war cry resonated behind him and something cold was wrapped around his neck. (Y/N) tugs the thick wire back rougly, causing the behemoth to stumble backwards, leaving enough room for (S/N) to escape.

—"RUN GODDAMNIT!"— you yell.

And this time (S/N) listens, sprinting through the stairs as fast as her body allows, leaving the house and not return.

The struggle between Michael and (Y/N) continued, they held tightly into the wire, trying to squeaze it even more while Michael attempted to get them off his back. The man eventually gets the solution and slams his body, back first, agains the wall, but (Y/N) doesn't give up. He repeats this maneuver a couple of times until their grip is lose enough to peel them off him and throw them into the floor.

The fall didn't go well, (Y/N) ended up going face first into the floor, but whatever pain they felt is quickly overshadowed by the adrenaline rushing through their veins. They know they won't be able to kill this monster, they know they're going to die, they know they have no chance, they know... But they refuse to go down so easily.

Durning the struggle, it seems like the man dropped his weapon, which (Y/N) had already grabbed as they stand up again. They hold the knife tightly as they stare into the man’s eyes, blood was leaking through their nose down their chin like a river. And despite this, despite all of these disadvantages, they stand hight and ready to keep fighting.

The killer must think they’re insane for even daring to get back to their feet, that they’re delusional for attempting to fight back… But (Y/N) does not care, not when their most loved one is in danger.

Michael remains completely still, looking at (Y/N)’s form. The moment their eyes made contact again, the same spine chill jolted through his body. The feeling was electrifying, so adictive, it began to intoxicate his mind, his eyes half lidded and breath heavy. He shouldn't be like this, (Y/N)'s eyes should not cause his body to react like that, but he can't help it...

Their eyes... There was no fear on them, only cold rage, a burning determination to protect and fight back. This gaze could be compared to the one of a wild wolf protecting an injured member of their pack.

The sacrifice they were ready to make in order to protect their sister caused Michael to feel a bit of respect towards them... Maybe even admiration, no, obsession. He was obsessed with their eyes, with their voice, with them... He was obsessed with (Y/N).

They both remains still, but eventually, and to their misfortune, Michael makes a move. He charges at them but (Y/N) seemed to learn from their previous mistake as they step aside and make a clear slash on his shoulder, causing the man release a low groan.

They attempt to stab him on the neck but Michael quickly grabs their wrist mid attack and tightly squeezes it, to the point that he felt something pop inside and right after that the knife was released from their grasp. But (Y/N) still refused to give up, this time they attepts to land a hit on his face or grab his mask, attempt that was cut short when Michael pushed them into the floor and practically tackled them.

(Y/N) glares daggers at him, their gaze hateful.

—"Don't you get it you sick fuck?!"— you exclaim, voice full of anger.

Michael only tilts his head, action that only pisses (Y/N) off.

—"I am not stopping, I won't stop fighting, not when my sister is in danger! Not while I'm still breathing!"—

And after these words they start struggling under Michael's large body, as the man himself got entranced with them again. Their bloodied visage looked so beautiful to him for some reason, their eyes filled with hate, not only towards him, but towards everything in the world made his breath shake. If it was any other victim he would be frustrated with such behavior... But not with (Y/N), never with them.

At some point, their struggles began to morph into quiet sobs, desperate and disappointed. They were disappointed with themselves, their helplessness and their inability to protect (S/N), not from this monster. They failed her...

They look away and bite their lip, holding their cries as best as possible, not wanting this beast to see them cry, to give him the joy watching them slowly break. This new picture of (Y/N) caused something inside of Michael's chest squeeze painfully, this new broken and vulnerable (Y/N) was very different from the previous one. It may not cause him the same thrill, but in ignites a new emotion, something he though he lost very, very long ago...

Protectiveness.

The same one he felt when he saw Angel cry, when she cowered away from him before he tried to reveal himself... And even after she tried to escape, he still felt protective of her in his own way... And now he feels it towards (Y/N).

Michael's head then straightens as he began to lean down, closer to them. (Y/N) tries to use their last bits of strength to push him away, slow him down, anything to keep him away from killing them in that same instant. When they feel his large arms wrap around their form, they shut their eyes tightly, expecting to feel pain at any second as he breaks their body limb by limb... But that doesn't happen.

They keep their eyes closed for a solid minute, and when still nothing happen, they open them just to be greeted by Michael's large form holding them in a tight embrace. His body warm despite his clothes being wet, the heat slightly soothing any pain in (Y/N)'s body, but not their mind. Being this close they can feel how powerful and strong Michael's body is, even embraced they can barely move, he could easily break their spine at any moment with enough force if he wanted to...

But (Y/N) had no time to question it or had any strength to push him since the adrenaline started to worn off and their vision and senses to slowly black out.

They're not sure how long Michael held them, but eventually he let go and stood up as the plice sirens got closer. He throws one last glance at (Y/N)'s nearly unconscious form before grabbing his knife and walking away.

But, it wasn't the last time they will see him...

Because the monster inside of him will force him to return…

[leclsrc]

congrats on 2k!! <3 can i have a [five brushes] with mick in some sort of friends to lovers scenario? tysm :*

hold my hand – ms47

genre: fluff, 2k celebration

auds here... sry this was a 4+1 and not a 5! love u

send for the for the five times our muses almost hold hands and the one time they do. 

Maybe it was the chill of November, or the shots of vodka you’d thrown back to celebrate the start of month. 

It’s vague when you try to pinpoint when all this started, this wholly new light on your best friend of your entire life, Mick. It’s hazy at the edges, like it’s still a dubious thing—is it really him? Mick? The one you’d watched fall into the lake when you were twelve? 

Or maybe it was the popcorn Gina had brought in for the both of you to enjoy as a late Halloween snack. Yes, maybe that. 

“It’s butter,” she says, following the wafty scent of popcorn into the living room. “No salt. Sorry. Mick’s trainer’s been on him about dieting.”

“Mmm, I heard,” you say, stuffing a fistful of the snack into your mouth. “You’d think he’s dancing ballet or something.”

“You two just looove talking about me like I’m not here,” pipes up Mick, clicking his tongue. Gina laughs, apologizes in German, and then makes up some excuse to leave you two alone. 

Freddy Krueger is just about to kill an unsuspecting dreamer when you and Mick seek popcorn at the same time, and your fingers brush against each other in the sea of butter. You jolt immediately, a reaction as instinctive as it is foreign. 

“Thought you were on a diet,” you tease lowly, snatching the bowl away.

So maybe that was it. And that was that. Except it really, really, wasn’t.

—

“Code red,” pants Mick breathlessly into the phone, “Red. I’m on my way to your hotel room.”

You and Mick share an emergency code system, modeled after any other, and used in cases where one needs the other’s help badly. There’s code blue (no fare for the bus/train, no gas money), code green (need to ditch this date, no ride home), code orange (creep is following me, fan has been stalking me), and code red, which covers about anything urgent.

Granted, you both created the system at thirteen, but is anyone really complaining when it’s being used at 23?

It also means code red is never used by either of you, reserved for dire situations. Like now. Your door is pushed open and Mick emerges, sweaty and fussed. “I need,” he says, breathless, “um, a—” But he whispers the last word quietly.

“Sorry. What?!”

“A, you know—” he does it again, scandalized.

“Mick, what do you need?”

“I can’t find a private enough space for me to buy a pack,” he says conspiratorially, “of condoms.”

Your chest caves in. “Oh. Why?”

“Eva asked me out.”

“Huh. Eva, Eva?” You dig through your bag. “Paddock engineer’s sister Eva?”

“Yes. Cool?”

“Yeah, yeah. Yeah,” you say, tossing him a rubber and walking closer. “But you look a mess, Mick.”

“Right. Fix me up, would you?” He smiles, raising his arms up.. “Code green.”

“You’re using up all your codes,” you mutter, pinching the hem of his tee and tugging at it to fix the wrinkles on the bottom. Then you move upward, to the collar of his polo, smile and tease him a bit to get his wound-up nerves loosened up a little more. “Good luck.” 

You accidentally fiddle with a button the same time he does, and your fingers stick to each other. Your breath catches a little, but it’s nothing, you tell yourself, avoiding the grip. It’s quiet, your eyes both evading the other’s, your hand scratching absently at your jaw. 

“I should—I should go.”

“No, right, yeah.” You clear your throat, nodding and shooing him away. GOOD LUCK VIRGIN BOY you text him when he’s gone, to alleviate the tension.

Went pretty well! :) He texts back two hours later.

“You sure you’re not up for a date?” Eva asks disappointedly across him.

“Sorry. My mind’s elsewhere,” he says. And that’s that. Except it’s really, really, not.

—

“You two used to dance a lot. Michael and I had a tape of your and Mick’s favorite songs.”

“Gina told me,” you giggle, reviewing a photo album with Corinna. “God, it’s crazy. I can’t even imagine Mick dancing now.”

Of course the declaration leads to Gina finding an old tape player in the stockroom and playing it for everyone to hear, so Mick can put on a show of lanky limbs and awkward dance moves for you, his sister, and his mom. It’s awfully endearing, sickening the way he manages to look cute even while botching the dance.

You and Gina join eventually, to appease Corinna’s pleas. In between one scratchy song and another, you both lose yourself in the music and your fingers almost tangle.

You flex your pinky when it almost locks on his. Sorry, he whispers, low in your ear. Your stomach erupts with thrill and excitement. Your mind’s focused on the rough pad of his finger, the whispered rough apology you haven’t quite accepted.

You hug Gina instead, dancing with her, and that should be that. Except it really, really, isn’t. 

—

“If you keep moving it’ll look ugly.” You readjust your grip on Mick’s pinky, painting an angry red on the nail there as a totem of good luck for the race weekend. You take the chance to do it when you can, the tradition started in Formula 3—paint the pinky nail red.

“You’re taking forever.”

“Fine, good luck DNF-ing again on Sunday.”

You poke your tongue out in a fit of concentration and finally finish dotting over the tiny mistakes. Your eyes glide up, and then stop where Mick’s already meet yours behind a blond curtain of damp post-shower hair.

What? You ask, mind clouded it feels like your voice is disembodied. His gaze is so intense, all blues and soft edges and a smile that reaches his eyes.

You do know the nail lacquer is just placebo, right? I have another good luck charm, and that one actually works.

No it isn’t, and no you don’t, and whatever the charm is—no, it doesn’t.

Except it really, really, does.

—

The fine line between friends and whatever lies behind it—when is it crossed? 

How many times will your fingers brush in a chaste dance? Your eyes flit down to lips, chapped or smooth, like it’s water in the desert? How many times will Mick dance, even if he hates to dance, because he likes the nearness of it? He wakes from dreams of you. He wakes waiting to text you. 

It may have been doubtful before, but now it’s anything but: he’s in love with you. And love is dizzying, it’s blurry and miraculous and could cloud even Einstein’s brain, but Mick at least knows the answer to one of his many questions. 

Four. Four brushes of your knuckles.

“Hey. Code red,” he says into the phone, walking to the lobby elevator.

Seriously, again? What is it this time?

“Just open the door when I get there,” he says, smilingly. “You won’t believe what I’m going to tell you.”

[zapreportsblog]

↳ SCREAM / GHOSTFACE : ↲

✭ devil in disguise

✭ still in love with you

✭ the guest room

✭ stop toying with her

✭ whispers of nature

✭ opening up

✭ what we have

✭ movie night

✭ control

✭ wounded

✭ bittersweet reunion

✭ stressful day

✭ highschool detective on the case

✭ shy hearts unveiled

↳ THE BOY / BRAHMS HEELSHIRE : ↲

✭ clingy

✭ the enigmatic of brahms heelshire

↳ HALLOWEEN / MICHAEL MYERS : ↲

✭ from behind

↳ FRIDAY THE 13TH / JASON VOORHEES : ↲

✭ time seemed to stop when I met you

↳ TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE / LEATHERFACE : ↲

✭ leave him alone

↳ HANNIBAL / HANNIBAL LECTOR : ↲

✭ humans are no different from animals

↳ JOYRIDE / RUSTY NAIL : ↲

✭ ride or die

✭ road side rescue

✭ sweet thang

↳ HOUSE OF WAX / SINCLAIR BROTHERS : ↲

✭ forgotten memories

[small-sinclair]

Hello, hope you're doing well ^u^ The Sinclair brothers (separate) heading out to another town/city to get groceries and other necessities? I feel like thins would be pretty hard with Vincent, though maybe on Halloween it could work?

As a side note, do you have plans to expand your character list in the future? Asking out of curiosity

-Snake

Heya! Yes, I do plan on expanding my list. I’ll try Michael Myers(young, not old), Jason V., and Thomas Heewit once. I think they might be fun to write.

(I’m actually really excited to talk about my Thomas Heewit x preg!reader au!)

The Sinclair Shoppings

Bo: Grab and Go

Shopping List King. If it’s not in the list, he’s not getting it. He doesn’t care how bad you want it, you’re not getting it.

But as the gif shows, he does like to buy in bulk.

Aims for easy cooking/quick cooking meals, but he’ll make some good southern food if he’s in the mood or something special is coming up like a holiday.

He doesn’t like being far from Ambrose because he doesn’t like leaving Vincent alone (or his s/o).

He’ll also put up flyers for people to come and visit the House of Wax if Vincent needs a new muse.

Side note: I have a hc that they do open the HoW to the public, cleaning it up a bit, and have people come visit from the other towns. The Sinclairs actually drew a crowd and get a lot of money, too! As always, they take 1/4 of the money and donate it the cancer hospital in memory of their mother.

If he’s in the mood, he’ll stop for food on his way home :3 Burger King or Wendy’s.

Vincent: Halloween Only

The Sinclair Brothers make a DAY out of this!

It’s Halloween night he he goes out in public for shopping and to the art store for the Scary Art Fair at the local community center.

He loves seeing other people’s art even if it’s made by amateurs. What he really loves is when kids look up at him without fear and show him their art! He as a shelf in his workshop with all the art the children have given him over the years.

Oh! And there’s an art competition for best Halloween art! Of COURSE, Vincent stays and does this art competition. He loves it!

Anyways, he goes shopping and gets the items he needs for art, the house, and for anything else.

Bo is by his side the whole time because he has to make sure his brother is safe. Also, they sell candy apples at the art fair. He’s a happy camper with his candy apple.

Lester: An Average Day

He’s the one that goes out and does the shopping mostly.

Whatever Bo or Vincent needs, he’ll get it. If Vincent needs new art items, he’ll get it as long as he has a brand name/packaging.

Lester is actually really good at finding good art tools and supplies. He has a membership at Michael’s and Joann’s just to get art stuff for Vincent.

Lester has to bring Bo along for new car parts.

He’ll always bring back food afterwards. Ice cream is his go to, and no one has complained about it!

He can be gone as long as he wants… well, as long as he’s home for dinner.

[skinnywalker]

HII LOVE YOUR WORK!! Can I get a P2 on the RZ Michael Myers please <33

Aww you guys are so nice to me!

Adolescent Attachment overgrown (pt2) RZ Micheal myer x male reader

Micheal was free. After years of torment, loneliness, lifeless white walls, he was free. Now only one thing was on his mind.

Him.

It had been 15 years since Micheal had seen him. 15 years since they had parked on that fateful halloween.

He still lives in the same house on the same road in Haddonfield. He lives alone other than his pets and had a fairly mundane job.

And as it is a holiday he is going home an hour early. The chilly Illinois air gives him chills reaching up and down his spine. Nights like this always feel like the world is closed up to everyone outside.

Tonight it feels like he's being watched tonight.

His locks click ring louder in his ears. His shoes seem to not want to leave his feet. He feels unsafe. Like this is no longer this house.

Tap tap tap

A noise pireced his thoughts causing him to whip around in much more of a panic than he would like to admit.

It's just the walls settling. It's fine.

He walks to the kitchen barely hungry but still automatically wanting food. His mind drifted through thoughts not holding on to anything as he listened unintentionally for more noises.

Nothing.

Because nothing is ther-

Thump.

He stops dead. Ears and eyes focused like a hiding rabbit.

Thump thump.

His guts are screaming at him to run but he can run. His legs don't move.

The door swings open with a loud crackle of wood against wall. A figure taller than the door frame stands.

He can't breathe. He can't speak. The burn of so many emotions filling every inch of his body.

He knows those eyes. Sad blue marbles cloaked in dirty blonde strains.

"Micheal. You- you are here. Now. You're-"

He breaks running in a sudden return to reality and throws himself forward. Micheal stand unmoving as he sobs into his chest. Arms tight around the bigger man's waist.

Him.

Here.

With me.

"I knew I didn't lose you. I-i never believed what they told me."

Micheal curled into him. He breathed in the warmth of the only person to truly love him. This is it. He is free.

And Micheal has him again.

This time he won't let people take them away.

@the-king-87 @nobodybelivesimstraight @seriousblue @z0mb13-t0by @makosgubaog

[swagatron9]

Slashers Masterlist

Last Updated 8/10/22

NSFW*

Michael Myers

Michael Myers*

Michael comes home from a long day of hunting and needs to release some pent up anger.

What board games you like to play

Slashers as gifs* Slashers Reaction To You Having A Wet Dream* Brahms and Michael and Their Pregnant S/O Slashers Reactions To You Dressing Up As Them You Dress Up In A Scandalous Outfit For Halloween

Jason Voorhees

Jason Voorhees as your boyfriend

What board games you like to play

Slashers as gifs*

Aspero*

Jason had been paranoid all night so to take his mind off things you decide to help him out in other ways.

Slashers Reactions To You Dressing Up As Them

Slasher's Reaction to You Getting Their Name Tattooed

You Dress Up In A Scandalous Outfit For Halloween

Brahms Heelshire

What board games you like to play

Slashers as gifs* Vigilantes*

Brahms catches you masturbating but instead of calling you out, he watches from inside the walls.

Pasta No Water?

Brahms tries to make dinner but fails miserably.

Handsy*

Brahms gets a bit handsy.

Foggy Eyes*

Brahms gets horny laying next to you.

Giving Them Blowjobs* Slashers With A Needy And Desperate S/O*

Brahms and Sex Toys*

Booty Call, But Not*

Malcolm gives you a call, but of course, Brahms can't leave you alone.

The Baddest of Them All*

Brahms gets the special toy because of his naughty behaviour.

Brahms with a Dom!S/O* Waking the Slasher up With Head* Slasher's Reaction to Their S/O Wearing a Tight Dress* Slashers Reaction To You Having A Wet Dream* Slashers Reaction To Their S/O Riding Them* Brahms and Michael and Their Pregnant S/O You catch them 🤜🥩 Slashers Reactions To You Dressing Up As Them Cuddling With The Slashers Slashers And The Gifts They Give You Face Sitting With A Fem!S/O Slasher's Reaction to You Getting Their Name Tattooed

Freddy Krueger

Slashers as gifs*

Bo Sinclair

Bo Sinclair with a model S/O

Slashers as gifs*

Victima*

after the victims are a bit too chatty with you Bo kills them and then deals with you afterwards.

Castra*

A camping trip gone wrong. Bo spares you, to an extent.

Double Trouble*

some double penetration from Bo and Vincent.

Lemonade and Fruit*

Bo Bends You Over A Car And Goes Wild

Giving Them Blowjobs* Slashers With A Needy And Desperate S/O* Waking the Slasher up With Head* Slasher's Reaction to Their S/O Wearing a Tight Dress* Slashers Reaction To Their S/O Riding Them* You catch them 🤜🥩 You Dress Up In A Scandalous Outfit For Halloween Cuddling With The Slashers Watching And Finishing

You and Bo do the sexual not knowing that your boyfriend, Vincent is watching.

Face Sitting With A Fem!S/O

Slasher's Reaction to You Getting Their Name Tattooed

Vincent Sinclair

Slashers as gifs*

Double Trouble*

some double penetration from Bo and Vincent.

Perfect Model Student*

you come across one of Vincent’s art works and get jealous leading to you modeling for Vincent instead.

Giving Them Blowjobs* Slashers With A Needy And Desperate S/O* Watching And Finishing

You and Bo do the sexual not knowing that your boyfriend, Vincent is watching.

Slashers And The Gifts They Give You

You Dress Up In A Scandalous Outfit For Halloween

Billy Loomis

Exspiravit*

billy fucks you in the bathroom.

Billy Loomis*

billy had taken an interest in you. You go to your friends only to find them all dead. and Billy’s the only one there.

Usus Est

Billy manipulates you into thinking your special

Thomas Hewitt

Slashers With A Needy And Desperate S/O*

Unleashed* Waking the Slasher up With Head* Slasher's Reaction to Their S/O Wearing a Tight Dress* Slashers Reaction To You Having A Wet Dream* You catch them 🤜🥩 Cuddling With The Slashers

Art The Clown

Garbage Gifts

Art The Clown is a gift giver, what’s more to say.

Taking Out His Emotions

This takes place after the first movie where Art supposedly 'dies'.

Slashers Reactions To You Dressing Up As Them

You Dress Up In A Scandalous Outfit For Halloween

Art Dancing

Cuddling With The Slashers

Origami Swan

Slashers And The Gifts They Give You

anonymity

You're a worker at a glory hole, and as the night ends, you're the only person left, but there's one more person to tend to.

Face Sitting With A Fem!S/O

[welcometowhore-rrorville]

𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒩𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉

Featuring: Michael Myers 

Word Count: 5.6k

Warnings: canon-typical violence, thriller and violent themes throughout, nsfw near the end, smut, everyone is 18+, attempted murder, the usual slasher stuff, questionable consent (both parties into it but also you probably shouldn’t be getting it on with a killer), swearing, probably ooc but I tried, proof-read and edited but I make mistakes so lmk 

-

You hated to be out by yourself this late at night, but you supposed it wasn’t all bad. Despite the chill in the air, the weather was nice, and the stars against the black sky illuminated your view as your shoes clicked on the sidewalk. You promised your friend Laurie you’d swing by during her babysitting tonight to keep her company, and so that’s where you headed.

You glanced down at your outfit, pulling on the black dress to cover more of your thighs, black tights doing next to doing to keep out the wind. You weren’t cold as much as you felt exposed, and you wished you’d been smart enough to stop by your house after the Halloween party to change. It was too late for that now, you thought, scratching behind your ear where the cat ear headband dug into your head. 

You grabbed your satchel which hung at your side, strap thrown around your shoulder. It held nothing more than a few snacks and your favorite board game, but you figured it would be enough to entertain the two of you until the child’s parents got back home. 

Despite being older than her—about to graduate in the spring, you two grew up together, and you weren’t about to leave your friend to suffer through a boring babysitting job alone. Sure, one of Laurie’s friend’s was a few houses down, but you doubted she would be coming over when she had other plans that night. 

You rolled your eyes thinking about it, and scoffed. She was a pretty shitty babysitter, in all honesty, but you supposed it wasn’t your kids. 

You continued down the darkened path forward, occasionally stopping in the glow of a streetlight. Being Halloween, you expected the odd-ball teenager running around to get a kick out of scaring people, and so kept a close watch on your surroundings. You didn’t want to deal with anything tonight except maybe losing at checkers, but that was far better than getting spooked by some freak. 

At that thought, you rummaged around in your bag, opening it just enough to peer at the small switchblade nestled in the inside pocket. It wasn’t much, but you didn’t expect to use it in the first place. 

You laughed at your own paranoia, instead picking up your pace. You could see your destination, and it didn’t take long before you lingered outside the door. 

You glanced behind you, spotting the house Annie was supposed to be babysitting in. You didn’t see any lights on, which you thought was odd, but figured she might’ve turned in for the night. You also took note of the van parked in the front. You vaguely recognized it, but you didn’t dwell on it, instead turning to where Laurie now stood, door open as she welcomed you inside.

“Happy Halloween,” you half-joked, pulling her into a half hug as you stepped inside. You spotted two kids sitting on the couch just inside the living room, a movie lighting up their faces as they watched. “I thought there was only one?”

“There was,” Laurie replied, shutting the door behind the two of you. “Then Annie happened.”

You scoffed, unsurprised.

Walking into the living room, you waved at the two children, grabbing a bag of chocolate from your bag before tossing it to the pair. The boy caught it excitedly. “Happy Halloween, kiddos.”

“They’ve already had too much popcorn,” Laurie commented, but you shrugged.

“Never such a thing as too many treats this time of year. Here—” you threw her favorite candy at her before setting your bag down on the coffee table. “Don’t think I forgot about you.”

Laurie smiled softly. You knew she’d been spooked all day today, which is part of the reason you forced yourself to come over despite your aching feet. Speaking of which, you slipped out of your heels, setting them back in the entry-way before following Laurie to the kitchen. “Don’t steal my stash while I’m gone, ya?” you said, gesturing to the bag as you left. The kids looked at each other before looking at your satchel. You had a feeling it would be empty come time to leave. Still, you didn’t care too much, watching as Laurie stopped at the kitchen island. 

She set her bag of candy on the counter, next to which sat a half-carved pumpkin.

“They abandon you?” you questioned, poking your finger through the jack-o-lantern’s singular eye hole. “Or were you going for something abstract?”

“We’ve been trying to carve it off-and-on all night,” she replied, picking up the knife which resided half-way inside the pumpkin and giving the orange squash another stab. “But the kids keep getting spooked.”

“Seems like that’s contagious,” you said, popping open the fridge to grab a soda. “Ever get over your boogie-man scare from earlier?”

“I really did see someone,” she replied, gesturing at you with the knife before making the final cut on the second eye. “It was creepy. He wore a white mask and a jumpsuit and just. . . stared at me.”

“It’s Halloween, Laurie.” you ruffled her hair gently. “Know how many people that fit that description I’ve seen today? Too many to count. I’m not saying you didn’t see someone, but it was probably some dick trying to get a scare. And it looks like it worked.”

She sighed, fixing her hair with one hand as she set the knife down on the counter with the other. “I know. I’m being stupid, aren’t I?”

You pulled her into another side hug, giving her newly fixed hair another pat. You knew she got annoyed whenever you acted like a big sister, but couldn’t hold back a snort as she shot you a half-hearted glare. You leaned against the doorway, sipping on your soda. “You know I’ll be here if something does happen. I packed a switchblade and everything.”

“You’re a life-saver,” Laurie mused, laughing. “If they need to open a tin can we’ll be all set.” 

“Whatever, just go sit down and take a break. I’ll finish carving this thing for you.” You set the soda on the counter, replacing it with the knife as you sliced through the pumpkin. Laurie looked too tired to argue, grabbing her candy and heading back into the living room.

“Don’t do anything scary, okay? It may be Halloween but it’s for the kids.”

You waved her comment off, already jabbing back and forth, trying to shape a pair of fangs and a large open mouth.

That’s how the house stayed for the next few minutes, you in the kitchen getting pumpkin guts and juice on your dress as they continued watching t.v. It wasn’t until one of the kids spoke up that you paused your actions, raising a brow at his comment.

“Laurie, I saw someone outside.”

You still held the knife, letting it hang in your hand as you ventured into the living space. “Was it this boogie-man you all keep talking about?”

The boy nodded.

You let out a sigh. “Alright. That’s it. You all stay here. I’ll go check it out.”

“What? Alone?” Laurie asked, standing from the couch. You slid your shoes on, knife now clutched solidly in your hand as you headed to the door.

“I’ll be fine. I’m a big girl. Besides, you have to baby-sit. I’ll just go yell at whoever douche is doing this and get this whole thing done-and-over-with.”

Laurie sighed but knew better to argue, instead following you to the door as you stepped outside. “I’ll lock it behind you. Be safe, okay?”

You smirked, rolling your eyes. With that, you stepped off the porch, eyes adjusting to the dark neighborhood. You didn’t immediately see anyone, and so continued walking, heading into the street, nimble on your feet—well, as nimble as you could be in your kitten heels. It might’ve been better to go out bare-foot, but it was too late now. 

You scanned the darkness, examining every hedge and tree in an attempt to spot someone behind it. You had no luck, and so decided to cross the street completely, now closing in on Annie’s location.

You thought about knocking to see if anyone was still up, but decided against it. You didn’t want to know what they were doing if they were still up, and especially didn’t want to interrupt it. 

The barely audible crunch of a leaf brought your attention to your right, and you stared intently at a particularly large tree looming in a nearby yard. Already sick of whoever this was, you called out to them.

“Hey. I know you’re there. Can you just—leave me and my friend alone, hmm? I get it’s Halloween and all, but it’s too late for tricks.”

There was no response, nor any movement.

You pursed your lips. “Okay, then,” you mused, heels crunching on the grass as you headed to the tree. “I’ll come get you myself.”

As you walked closer, you still spotted nobody. You gripped the knife, making sure it was poised and ready in your hand. You had no intention of stabbing anyone tonight, but a little scare should give them the picture to leave. 

You finally stopped arms-length away from the massive oak. You gave a knock on the thick trunk. No reaction.

You clenched your jaw, knees bent as you prepared to race around to catch the stranger by surprise. Just before you moved, however, footsteps sounded behind you, and you whirled around and jumped back just in time to avoid a knife to the back. 

Your eyes widened. It was just as Laurie described, a tall man, definitely built enough to do some damage, wearing a stained black jumpsuit. A white mask covered his face, revealing nothing but eye holes. You stared at the molded rubber costume, peering into the two black voids, the kitchen knife squeezed so tight in your hand your knuckles hurt. You saw no reflection of eyes, nor skin, just darkness.

Strangely, he made no move to strike again, just staring, well, you assumed he was staring, directly at you. His stance was eerily calm and collected for someone who just tried to kill you. It was like he was waiting for you to make the first move.

Your heart hammered in your chest, and three decisions flashed in your mind. Fight. Flight. Freeze. You were already frozen, but so was he. Flight? You had no idea how fast he could run, or where you would go. You weren’t about to lead a mad-man back to Laurie and the kids. That left only one option.

You weren’t the most athletic, nor the fastest, but left with no option, you made your decision. 

Taking in one last breath, you darted to the side, using the tree trunk for cover and narrowly avoiding another attempted stabbing.

You raced around the tree, popping out where the man once stood with your knife above you, elbow bent and prepared to lunge.

He had vanished from his spot, and you quickly darted away from the tree entirely, wanting to have a clear view of all of your surroundings. The closest cover he could’ve taken was inside the house Annie resided in, and judging by the now-open door, you were correct in your guess.

You grit your teeth. Now was your chance to flee and get help, but you had a sinking feeling the police wouldn’t get here in time to be of any real help. 

Suddenly spurred forward by your own urge to confront the man trying to kill you, you walked towards the open door.

Your knife never left your vision, and you held it just far enough away to deal a strike without having it ripped from your grasp. 

The door swayed gently in the breeze, knocking against the doorway. You stepped inside quickly, shutting the door behind you. 

The inside was dark, as you gathered from looking at the outside of the house, and you struggled to maintain your senses. Still, you knew idling for too long meant death, and so crept forward as quietly as possible despite your unreasonable shoes.

The house was quiet enough to tell you one thing—either Annie and her friends were all fast asleep, or. . .

You took extra caution coming to a doorway, and decided to swing first and ask questions later, but your knife hit nothing, and so you stepped forward. There was nothing but an empty kitchen.

You found the same for the entire downstairs, and so decided there was only one other option.

You made your way to the staircase, gripping the railing. Slowly, you stepped upwards one stair at a time. This house was a stranger’s, and you had no idea what the lay out was. Still, you knew one thing. Your boogie-man was upstairs, and you were going to confront him there.

You took a deep breath, steadying your shaking body once you made it just below the second floor landing. 

You quieted yourself, trying desperately to listen for some sort of clue to unravel his location. You heard nothing, and figured he’d hidden away in some corner just waiting for you to come out.

Having no choice, you stepped upwards, swiveling to take in your surroundings. You started with the door closest to you, and used the tip of the knife to slowly push it open. You spotted nothing, but the room was dark. There was no way to tell if he was inside without going in.

You glanced back down the stairs. Should you retreat? It wasn’t too late to scramble out the door and scream for help. You clenched your fists.

A feeling deep inside your stomach wouldn’t let you, and so you pushed into the room. You squinted your eyes. It was a bathroom by the looks of it, and the only light was coming from the window clear across the hallway. 

Stepping a foot into the small room, you swiveled your head around, making sure there was nowhere to hide.

Everything was clear, save for the shower. The curtain was pulled fully closed. You grit your teeth so hard your temples burned. Your feet slid cautiously, and the tip of your knife blade tapped the edge of the curtain. With a harsh push, you slammed the curtain open.

Nobody.

You let out a sigh.

You swiveled back on your heels, only to let out a breathless gasp. He had you cornered, tall frame blocking your only way out of the bathroom. You had to think fast, and so did the only thing that came to mind.

You lunged to the side, grabbing a towel hanging on a hook before tossing it towards him. Not wasting a second, you charged forward, knife cradled against your chest to prevent stabbing yourself. Your body collided harshly with his, and you heard the clatter of metal on tile as you both fell to the ground, towel lodged between your bodies.

You landed on top, but before you had the chance to raise your knife, the towel was thrust back in your face, and you stumbled to the side, leaving him to get the upper hand. 

Your body was pressed harshly into the floor, and the knife you had was ripped out of your grasp and thrown, landing with a thump a few feet away. 

You breathed heavily, the weight of him straddling your hips taking the breath out of you. His hands wasted no time wrapping around your neck, cutting off your airway.

You wheezed and gasped, bucking around and clawing at the large hands which choked you, but you knew he had you beat. There was no use trying to wrangle his hands away, so you needed a different plan, and fast.

You looked anxiously around, eyes flittering around the darkened hallway. Both knives were too far away to reach, and you had nothing else to defend yourself with. You tried to maneuver out from under him, but he had his full weight atop you, staring at you from behind his white mask.

Your lungs were burning, and you were running out of energy to struggle. Your gaze met his, and the window behind you let in just enough light to highlight the eyes behind the lifeless facade. You stared, hands still clawing at his own, becoming more and more panicked as black spots clouded your vision.

Desperately, you moved from grabbing your neck to his, and slid your fingers underneath the mask, ripping it upwards and off. 

Seemingly panicked, he released his grip, reaching hurriedly to return his mask back on his head, though you had already thrown it to the side, leaving it in a heap a few steps down the staircase. 

You couldn’t find the energy to move, and so only stared, taking in his face as he stood from your wheezing body. With a speed you hadn’t seen him move with, he crouched over and grabbed his mask, fitting it back onto his head before turning around.

You had only seen his face for a second, but what you saw surprised you. It was a man—a young one at that, with sharp features and curly brown hair that fell over his forehead slightly. You expected the face of a seasoned killer, not someone who could’ve been in college. 

Still, you had no time to dwell, as he was already stepping back towards your fallen body. Taking in a deep breath as air once again filled your lungs, you scrambled to your hands and knees, racing forward to grab the blade which glistened under the moonlight. You gripped it firmly, and rolled onto your back just as he struck with his own weapon picked up from the bathroom floor.

It dug into the floor just beside you, and you hurled yourself up and onto your feet, scrambling back down the stairs before he could strike again.

Half-running-half-falling, you made it down the stairs, rushing to head into the kitchen. You breathed heavily, your whole body aching as you leaned against the kitchen counter. You saw a door leading to the back, and began slowly moving towards it, all the while keeping your eyes glued to the entrance. He would come, and when he did. . .

You had no idea. You had no clue what you would do once you ran out the door. You didn’t know what you could do or how it would end. Something in you shattered at that. Why were you fighting something so hard when you knew there was only one fate in store for you this evening? 

You released the death-grip on the kitchen blade, letting it fall onto the counter. With a sigh, you bent over, taking your shoes off as you relished in the feeling of your heels flat on the floor. You reached up, finally taking off your headband, and placed that beside the discarded weapon.

You then walked over to the fridge, popping it open to see just what you were looking for—your favorite soda.

You popped it open, taking a long sip as the carbonated liquid cooled your dry and hoarse throat. 

Deciding that you couldn’t bear to stand any longer, you popped onto the counter, legs dangling as you sat against the upper cabinets. 

You continued sipping on your drink, eyes on the entryway. It felt like hours before you finally saw him appear, knife in hand as he stared from in the doorway. You gave a sarcastic smile, waving. You held out your arm. “Care for a drink before you kill me?” 

He did nothing. You weren’t surprised. “Not a talker, huh?” You shrugged. “Guess it doesn’t really matter.” You finished off your drink, setting it on the counter with a clank. “Too late to call it a draw?”

Still no response.

You frowned, crossing your legs. “Well, I suppose you should get this whole thing over with. That’s what you want right, to kill me? Well, do it already. Unless you want to wait for me to finish another soda.” 

At your words, he stepped forwards, but still not close enough to reach you. He seemed. . . confused at your sudden personality shift. You were confused too, but you supposed shock did crazy things to people. Your heart still beat wildly, and your hands shook, but there was an acceptance that buried itself in you that you couldn’t get rid of. You were going to die, you decided, and that’s just how it had to be.

You let out a sigh, hopping off the counter daintily. Your bare feet hit the floor, and in a few steps you stood directly in front of him. You looked at the knife in his hand, still hanging at his side, before staring at him. “I didn’t think I’d go out this way,” you confessed. “It’s a shame, really. Though I guess it’s not so bad. . . at least you’re handsome. Takes a whole new meaning to to-die-for, huh?” 

The slightest tilt of his head betrayed his emotion. He didn’t. . . understand you. One minute you were just like all the others, but now? 

He raised the knife slowly, so slowly that you could stare at your own reflection in it, watching yourself blink as sweat dripped down your face. You thought about closing your eyes, but decided against it. 

You watched as the blade tip tapped just barely against your sternum, dragging down almost teasingly. Still, you made no move to run. No move to scream or rip his mask off again. You just. . . stared. 

The blade pressed harder against your skin, and you winced when it finally broke the skin, but not anywhere near enough to kill you—hell, not enough to even hurt you. The blood dropped slowly down from your upper chest, rivulets of the dark substance nestling between your breasts, just below your dress’s neckline. The knife began to move once more, lifting up from your skin only to nestle just below your chin, pressing against your neck. 

You made no move to stop him, still looking into his own black gaze. Again, he pressed his blade in, but only enough to tilt your head up, leaving you to stare at the ceiling. Did he. . . not like you looking at him? Was he, your killer, seriously uncomfortable with you looking at him as he killed you?

You grit your teeth, and despite the pain, brought your chin down again to watch him. You heard a low exhale behind the mask. 

The blade slid from your neck, trailing along your collar-bone before it hit the spaghetti strap of your dress and bra. You felt a pull as the blade slipped beneath the strips of fabric, pulling them upwards until they sliced apart. Your shoulder was left bare, and soon the same could be said for your other one. 

You didn’t speak—couldn’t speak. Any words lodged themselves in your throat, unable to come out. You felt choked again, but this time by your own will.

Your hands begane to fiddle with the bottom of your dress, picking it up and down as you messed with the fabric. He took note of this action, knife trailing back over your sternum before slowly, agonizingly slowly, tracing down your middle. The blade tip was cool against your flushed skin, sliding between the curves of your breasts and right over your navel. It stopped just below your dress line.

You continued your eye contact with the man, though it was a struggle as the blade began to cut through the thin fabric of your tights. You bit the inside of your cheek, feeling as the sharp edge crept further upwards, slicing the black mesh as it did so. As he cut, the blunt top edge of the knife raised your dress, and he didn’t cease until it was up to your hip and your underwear, only now half covered by tights, was on display. 

Your mind was racing—was this all part of his m.o.? Teasing before murder? No. He had just tried to kill you multiple times brutally and quickly, so what was this? It must’ve been unplanned. New. Just as foreign to him as it was to you. You weren’t sure if being a guinea pig to his fantasies was better or worse than choking to death. You supposed you were going to find out. 

The blade skirted across your hips, leaving a stinging sensation as it went. He continued until reaching your other side, then you noticed his other hand begin to move. A large hand rested on your hip, slowly trailing upwards, past your heaving chest, until it stopped at your bare shoulder. Gripping it tightly, he turned you to face away from him, and at last you broke eye contact.

You held your breath as all touch on your body was lost, and you remained stiff and quiet, tattered clothes revealing the goosebumps lining your skin. Was this it? Was it time?

From your peripheral you saw a hand come into view, knife shining in his grip. You bit your lip hard enough to draw blood when the tip came to rest just above your navel, pushing in harder and harder until you were forced to stumble backwards. 

Your back hit his chest, and you didn’t have time to regain your balance before his other hand wrapped around your throat. His muffled breath was at your ear, and you could spot his mask just barely in your view, hovering above your shoulder. 

HIs fingers began to squeeze, but not hard enough to kill, only enough to have you wheezing and gasping for a full breath. You had no choice but to writhe against his solid frame, the knife in front of you still taunting you. 

Tears pricked at your eyes, upping your panic. Your hands finally unfroze, leaving you to reach up and try to pry his fingers from your throat. At your action, the knife in front of you pressed against your stomach harshly, and you let out a weak moan as your skin sliced open. Blood stained your dress, quickly seeping below the fabric to drip down your exposed pelvis. 

Sensing his anger at your attempt to free yourself, your hands dropped back down, balling into fists.

The grip loosened slightly, and though still confining, you were able to take a solid breath, letting the air fill your lungs as your chest rose and fell.

You were stuck, pinned against him as a knife toyed with your stomach and hands clenched and unclenched against your aching neck.

“Please. . .” you whimpered, exhausted. You didn’t care what he did, as long as he got it over with. 

Your body slumped against his, head resting against his upper chest. His hand still around your throat prevented you from leaning fully, but your form was like a rag doll in his grasp. 

“Do whatever you want. . .” you continued, trailing off. Your hands moved to your stomach, clutching your wound. You noticed the knife had retreated back behind you. Did this mean he had his fun? It was done? Hardly.

You heard the clatter of the blade on the nearby countertop as he pushed you roughly forwards, not stopping until you were pinned against the countertop, your wound pressed deeply against the sharp edge. You whimpered at the feeling, hands coming out on either side of you to press yourself backwards, but he had already taken his place directly behind you, locking you in place.

You could only listen, heavy breathing coming from behind you as his body pressed against yours. 

In any other situation, the feeling of a solid chest pressing into your back paired with hands now curiously trailing over your body would have you begging for more, but in this situation. . . ? You weren’t sure. . .

Was he trying to get at something? Get at you? Get with you?

Your stomach clenched. 

Despite everything he’d done to you, your mind wandered back to his face behind the mask, his stature, his strong build and large hands. . .

No. No. No. No. No.

You resisted the urge to shake your head.

You might’ve had an odd taste in men, but this? THIS?

Still, you pressed your thighs tightly against each other, knees suddenly weak. Blood loss. It must’ve been blood loss that had your mind acting like this. There was no other explanation for the warmth pooling in your abdomen. 

You weren’t getting hot and bothered by the man that had just tried to kill you. . . it wasn’t like his hands, both of which were now wedging themselves under your dress, were impacting you at all. . . right?

You let out a hiss of surprise when a knee shoved your legs apart, the solid mass preventing your bashfulness. Your breath hitched as he brought his leg upwards, leaving you to struggle on your toe tips to prevent the rough cloth from brushing against your sex. 

Seemingly noticing your sudden change of breathing, he moved a hand to your navel, sliding his long digits downwards until he found the band of your tights and underwear. 

Your eyes widened when he continued downwards, wiggling underneath your bottoms to ghost against your pubic bone.

It was obvious this whole experience was exciting him, judging by his heavy breathing and the newfound object poking against your backside. 

Still, you couldn’t talk, being that your panties were considerably wetter than they were a few minutes ago. It was laughable—what kind of enemies-to-lovers story was this? But, you supposed you enjoyed this more than the other option. A lot more, you corrected yourself as a finger brushed against your clit.

You let out a breath. You didn’t have to say anything. It was obvious he’d found something you enjoyed.

A rough pad swirled against your sensitive clit, the sensation choking a near silent moan from your lips. You couldn’t believe yourself, repulsed at what you found yourself doing, and yet had no intention of doing anything besides leaning further into his touch.

Your hands rested firmly against the countertops now, abdomen bent forward—leaving you to stare at your distorted reflection on the surface of an abandoned tea kettle. Your face was covered in tears, sweat, and stains of blood splattered your body. Your eyes moved from staring at yourself to the masked killer behind you. He was bent over you, still trailing up and down your folds and rubbing your clit with large yet nimble fingers. His other hand was now on your chest, diving beneath your falling neckline to grope your breasts—still stained with your blood. 

You shivered when the touch of his mask hit the side of your neck. It was like he wanted to kiss you, mark you, something, but the rubber prevented it. 

Still, the point was made, and you tilted your neck to the side, allowing greater access.

His fingers toying with your cunt built a knot in your stomach, and you knew you were close, panting as that familiar sensation filled you. Like you were on the precipice of a cliff, you waited with baited breath, your hips grinding as best as you could to finally push you over. 

A digit found your entrance, and pushed in harshly, quick enough to jerk you upwards. A surprised cry left your lips, only to be cut off as your breath hitched. Vigorously, rhythmically, like a machine, his finger pumped in and out of you, quickly being joined by another.

You clenched your mouth shut, knowing the lewd noises you would make otherwise. Seemingly taking note of how quiet you’d gotten, he gripped your breast tightly, nails digging into your skin. Giving up on your short vow of silence, you let another groan leave you, your hands reaching behind your head to push his neck further against your skin. You wanted more. You needed more. You were so close. . . so fucking close. . . 

All movement was ceased. A figure stood in the doorway of the kitchen. You didn’t recognize the man, at least from what you could see in your tea kettle mirror, but you noted the way the killer turned to stare at the older man. 

“Michael,” the intruder gasped, clutching a small handgun. “Let the woman go.”

The two stared at each other, and you could feel the tension pulsing from underneath the slasher’s jumpsuit. Obviously, they knew each other, and obviously, your late night lover had a bone to pick with him.

His fingers were still inside you, the other hand clawed around your breast. You let out a whimper, your hands wrapping around your exposed midsection. 

“Myers,” the stranger spoke again. “Leave this place. You’ve done enough for tonight.”

Slowly, painfully slowly, his touch receded from your skin. Michael, you learned your culprit’s name was, returned to his full height, turning to face the older man menacingly. With agitated steps, he walked forwards, grabbing the abandoned knife off the counter. The man stepped back a few paces, placing his gun back in his jacket pocket before quickly rushing to your side as soon as Michael was far enough away. 

You blocked out the man’s words of reassurance, only staring at the pale masked man, his own eyes staring back for just a moment, before he turned and walked back into the darkened house. You heard the opening of a door, and just like that, he was gone.

“Michael Myers let you live,” whispered the man. He stood, staring at the empty doorway. “I fear for what his plans with you are, dear.”

You swallowed harshly. Whatever they were, you were sure you’d be seeing him again soon. You had a feeling he was far from done with you. Your stomach clenched, and you gently pulled your dress back down to your thighs. A part of you couldn’t wait until that day came. 

[buckysmith]

Some Halloween Headcanons cause I’m a sucker for it

Autobots / Decepticons: Halloween with their human s/o

Optimus Prime:

- He doesn't quite understand what Halloween is or at least how a old tradition turned into candy hunting

- He isn't the bot for trick and treat hunting, nor a party bot so he would like to stay as far away from party's as he possible can.

- He knows you like Halloween a lot especially the horror movies you forced him to watch with you.

- He doesn't like it. Not even a bit, but for you, he hop over his own shadow and at least act like he likes the movie.

He can't really go to human party's since he's a somehow 30 feet height bot, but if he has a holoform- He knows he can't escape you nor the costumes you picked for him and yourself.

- He doesn't like crowded rooms, he's more on the silent side so you would dress him up as Michael Meyers and yourself as Laurie Strode (no matter your gender)

- He likes the mask tho, so nobody would see his human face nor his expressions

- It would get quite uncomfortable for him when another Micheal is in front of him, and another Laurie Strode is talking to his Laurie

- Both micheals would just look at each other in silent, but the tension is high

Ratchet:

- Candy? Human children? Loud noises and pranks? That's a no no for your robo boyfriend.

- He would stay at home, no matter what you're trying he's not gonna go outside no, especially cause he knows there clowns outside.

- He hates clowns, he can't deal with such a happiness all the time, with their noisy ass noses and with their way to large shoes and their hair. Nah, he would rather have a talk with megatron

- If you somehow get your boyfriend to use his holoform so you both could go to a party, you would definitely dress him up as a doc, it's the only thing you can get him to put on

- He hates partys and he would definitely whine about it , but for you, he would at least go two hours.

Shockwave:

- Do I have to say something other than it's not logical for him?

- Why is it called "hunting" candy? Their not hunting, they are pathetically beg at random houses to get free candy. Candy that's ruining their teeths and it's unhealthy.

- He doesn't understand your excitement for that day

- of course you would ask him to go with you to a party since he's your boyfriend.

- He would straight up tell you No, he's not gonna leave his important work to do such a nonsense as going to a party

- He wouldn't think it's logical to go a party but since your going alone and sum bagger could ask you out- No, it may be not logical for him to go to a party, but it's logical to accompany his partner.

- Ofc you knew he wouldn't let you go alone, so you bought him a outfit too and knows what? It's doctor Frankenstein

- You find it quite funny since he's somehow a doctor Frankenstein

- He wouldn't find it as funny as you do

Knockout:

- Bonnie and Clyde

- He would dress himself up as Bonnie and you would dress yourself as Clyde (no matter the gender)

- He's the only one who really likes to go out with you in his holoform to a human party, doing human stuff

- He's the one who would scare teenagers just for the fun of it

- You shouldn't leave him alone at the party, he would drink and cause he's not use to it, he would be drunk very very quick

- He would call breakdown to come and get you both home

- He would puke into breakdown the moment he starts driving and believe me, he wouldn't be amused that his now humanized friend did that to him

Soundwave:

- He isn't a talker nor does he have a face (at least he doesn't show it)

- so to pick up a Halloween costume for his holoform wouldn't be to difficult

- in his normal form he has tentacles, no face, he's slender and fucking tall ....

- You can't think of something other than that he's the perfect Slenderman

- He wouldn't protest about it tho, he wants to make you happy so to dress himself up as a faceless monster with tentacles that doesn't exists, isn't far from what he really is, a faceless monster with tentacles.

- You would dress yourself up as Jeff the killer

- He doesn't really understand why you like that day so much but he would gladly hunt sweets with you

Crosshairs:

- He doesn't like humans, at least not really (ofc besides you)

- But Halloween, Halloween is something he wouldn't want to miss

- in his Holoform he would choose to dress himself up as Scream or pennywise

- He's not only scaring teenagers, hah no. He scares the little kids and their parents too.

- He's your pain in the ass so he would want you to dress yourself in a nice maid outfit

- He would like to hunt you a bit, don't worry u can hit him if you want (drift allowed it)

- drift would try to stay as far away for both of you as he can, well every Autobot would cause together your pain the ass

Megatron:

- Grumpy mech, doesn't like such human bullshit

- No for real, he hates everything that has to deal with human except you

- Since your human, and since your his human you would have to stay by his side all the time so to have a day (well it's not a day more like a night) to dress yourself up and just enjoy other people's company would mean a lot to you, so he would allow you to go

- but ofc not without him

- But he doesn't like his Holoform, and since it's Halloween he should dress himself up, just like you.

- He would ask you what costume would fit for him and cause he doesn't want that other people see his face, you would buy him a Michael meyers costume

- He's tall, and with everything that Micheal wears, he even looks frighteningly like Micheal himself

- You would see another Michael accompanied by a Laurie Strode and because you both have the same outfit you would start a conversation with the couple, probably only with the Laurie Strode

- You ofc would notice that both michaels seemed a little uncomfortable but you wouldn't think much of it

(Unknown to both Michael that their enemy is right in front of them, accompanied by their only weaknesses)