#hey michael it's halloween everyone's entitled to one good scare

[babadork]

[starkwlkr]

monster mash | oscar piastri

summerween masterlist

Oscar didn’t think he would be babysitting on Halloween night, but then again he didn’t have plans. He was stuck babysitting his mom’s friend’s kid, Luke. The parents were going to a Halloween party so Oscar’s mom volunteered her son to babysit.

“Why would you do that? I’ve never even met the kid!” Oscar groaned as Nicole Piastri closed the front door after giving candy to trick or treaters.

“Laurie is a good woman and she even babysat you so please just look after Luke for one night.” Nicole replied.

“Mum, it’s Halloween.” Oscar frowned.

“And you’re babysitting.”

So Oscar got ready and drove to Laurie’s house that was decorated with skulls, pumpkins and fake spiderwebs. It was clear that this family took the holiday seriously. After ringing the doorbell, the door opened revealing a kid with a pirate costume.

“What are you supposed to be?” The boy asked.

Oscar rolled his eyes. “Your babysitter for the next three hours.”

“Lame.”

“Luke! Be nice to Oscar!” The boy’s mother said as she walked to the door to greet Oscar. She was dressed as Dorothy from the wizard of oz while her husband was dressed as the scarecrow. “Hi, thanks for coming. Our numbers are on a sticky note on the fridge, he is not allowed to watch any scary movie no matter what he says and no more eating candy.”

“But it’s Halloween!” Luke whined.

“Listen to your mother, Luke, no more candy.” His father stated. “There’s money on the kitchen counter if you want to order some pizza. We should be home by 12.”

Oscar nodded at all their instructions. How was he supposed to keep a kid entertained? Legos? He didn’t know the first rule to entertain kids.

After Luke’s mom and dad left, the seven year old immediately ran to the living room and grabbed the landline. Oscar wasn’t sure if what to do. It’s not everyday that a little kid uses a landline. After dialing a number and waiting a few seconds, Luke spoke into the phone.

“They’re gone. My dad left money for pizza. Bring your candy too.” He said then hung up.

Oscar stood in the living room confused. “Who were you talking to?”

“Sarah.” Luke replied casually. He then walked to the coffee table and grabbed the remote, turning on the tv and clicking netflix. “Can you order cheese pizza?”

Oscar didn’t think much of it so he walked to the kitchen to grab the money. His heart stopped when he noticed the back door was wide open. Was this some kind of prank? Surely it was. Before he could do anything, a loud yell startled him from behind him.

“Fuck!” Oscar yelled out as he turned around and saw a random girl laughing along with Luke and another little girl in a Wednesday Addams costume. “That’s not funny.”

“You scream like a girl!” Luke laughed, but stopped when the little girl punched his arm. “Ow!”

“Sorry, it’s Halloween, everyone’s entitled to one good scare.” The random girl said then extended her hand towards Oscar. “I’m Y/n. I’m Luke’s neighbor and this is my sister, Sarah.”

“Oscar, I’m Luke’s babysitter, but only for today.” He made sure to include the last part. He stared at the girl, captivated by her beauty. He figured he must’ve stared at Y/n for a while because Luke was complaining that he was hungry for pizza. “Oh, pizza, yeah right.”

While Sarah and Luke went back to the living room, Y/n hung out with Oscar in the kitchen. He dialed the pizza place. As he ordered, he started stuttering. That’s when Y/n offered to order instead.

“Hey, Tommy! Can we get our usual? And throw in those lava cakes too and a coke. Yeah, thanks. See ya.” Y/n spoke with confidence then hung up and gave Oscar his phone back.

“You know the pizza guy?” Oscar questioned.

“Yeah. He’s my ex, but it all ended on good terms.” Y/n said. “So Freddy, Michael or Jason?”

“What?”

“Do you have a preference? I’m more of a Michael Myers kind of girl, but we can watch Friday the 13th, A Nightmare on Elm Street or if you’re into something else, that’s cool too.” She smiled at Oscar as they walked back to the living room where the kids were trying to find a movie to watch.

“But he’s not—” Oscar pointed to Luke.

“Supposed to watch scary movies? We do this every year! My mom gets a babysitter on Halloween, Sarah and Y/n come over and we eat pizza and watch scary movies!” Luke interrupted. “My mom doesn’t know so don’t tell!”

“Yeah, don’t be lame!” Sarah added.

“Sarah! Be nice or we’re leaving.” Y/n warned. “It’s cool, they won’t get scared.”

“What about the other babysitter? Did they know about this too?” Oscar questioned. He really wasn’t in the mood to get in trouble.

“Yeah, but she was going to tell Luke’s mom and now she’s missing.” Sarah said with no emotion. Oscar nervously laughed, but stopped when no one around him was laughing.

“She’s joking. The last babysitter left because of college and yes she knew about this so come sit so we can watch a movie.” Y/n patted the seat next to her.

Oscar had to come clean at some point. He hated scary movies. He would rather sit through a romance movie than watch some person getting killed by a slasher. So instead of suggesting a more family friendly Halloween movie like Hotel Transylvania, he blurted out two words. Just Dance.

“You mean the game?” Luke asked.

“Yeah, the second one has Monster Mash. It could be . . . fun.” Oscar shyly said.

“Oh god, I haven’t played Just Dance in forever! I say let’s do it.” Y/n agreed and stood up from the couch. Since Luke didn’t have the game, Oscar put the dance on YouTube.

“Wanna try?” Oscar asked Y/n. He looked at the kids. “They don’t look too convinced.”

“Eh, they’ll just have to watch us dance horribly.” Y/n chuckled.

“Speak for yourself! I am a Just Dance champion.”

The kids watched as Oscar and Y/n danced like a zombie while the iconic Halloween song played. They didn’t even notice when Y/n’s ex aka the pizza guy knocked on the door ready to deliver the cheese pizza and lava cake and soda.

Luke opened the door and gave him the money. “Thanks. Keep the change.” He handed Sarah the bottle of soda.

“A dollar?” Before Tommy the pizza guy could get another word in, Luke slammed the door shut.

The kids watched as Oscar picked another song to dance to. Luke shook his head in disappointment. Even he could tell that Oscar had developed a crush on his neighbor.

“Do you know your sister’s number?” Luke asked Sarah.

“Yeah.”

“Cool.” Luke replied. “Want to share a lava cake?”

Eventually, Y/n and Sarah had to leave since Luke’s parents were coming back. As Oscar was putting Luke to bed, the boy gave him a piece of paper with a number on it.

“What’s that?” Oscar asked.

“Y/n’s number. She likes the color red, Agatha Christie books and scary movies.” Luke replied. “It looked like you needed help.”

Oscar couldn’t believe it. Was he that bad that a seven year old had to help him get a cute girl’s number?

“Uh, thanks?” He took the small slip of paper. “Get some sleep, Luke.” He smiled at the boy.

“Oscar? If you and Y/n get married—”

“Okay, I wouldn’t go that far.” Not yet at least.

TAGLIST

@yannew @annieoncrack @stinkyjax

[fanofspooky]

“Hey, Michael! It's Halloween. Everyone's entitled to one good scare.”

[visceravalentines]

Wow!  My first real smut fic!  We’ll pretend I haven’t been mortified about sharing it for a whole week.  MINORS DNI.

Spoils of War

Halloween night, 2021. The people of Haddonfield are dead set on killing the Boogeyman. You, not so much. When the dust settles, you are the only one left, wearing handcuffs and a short skirt. Whatever will he do with you? Takes place smack in the middle of the third act of Halloween Kills.

Rating:  Explicit/NSFW

Length:  1.9k

CW:  dubcon, fingering, vaginal sex, blood kink, marking, light bondage, mild gore, murder, someone (you lol) gets arrested

AFAB!Reader POV

Halloween in Haddonfield brought out the worst of mob mentality every year, but this night had been unprecedented.

You were swept along in the crowd that rushed to Field Street, armed with baseball bats and delusions of grandeur. You didn’t have a weapon. Someone tried to hand you a tire iron, which you accepted and then dropped as inconspicuously as possible. Awash in the panic, you watch the townsfolk set up a sort of perimeter with their cars and their chaos.

“Everyone watch for Karen!” someone calls. “Watch for Karen, she’ll lead him here!”

This is madness. There are uniformed officers in the crowd, guns drawn. Everyone you know – the librarian, the grocery store clerk, the high school biology teacher – is eyeball-deep in bloodlust.

“This isn’t right,” you say, almost to yourself. “This is wrong, he’s just a man.”

“Just a man?” scoffs the crossing guard next to you, holding a two by four instead of a stop sign. “He’s a monster.”

“You don’t have to be here,” says a police officer. “Go hide in your house if you don’t want to be a part of it.”

“Here she comes!” someone yells.

The crowd grows instantly, eerily silent.

Karen Nelson sprints out of an alleyway, holding Michael’s mask in her fist. How the hell did she get a hold of that? “He’s coming,” she says breathlessly, “he’s right behind me.” She drops the mask in the middle of the street and veers off to the left.

Three heartbeats later, there he is, looming out of the shadows like he’s made from them. He is huge, a hulking shape of a man. The headlights of the cars around you burn to life and he stops, taking in the scene. You can’t tear your eyes from his face, caked in blood, half the flesh raw and pink with fresh burns, his dead eye gleaming like a pearl in the yellow light. He is grizzled, his visage marked by scars and the trauma of a long, brutal life. He is striking. He is an apex predator in his element. He regards the vigilantes of Haddonfield without fear or surprise. The knot in your stomach tightens. Something terrible is going to happen.

“Hey Michael, it’s Halloween,” Officer Brackett says, his thick finger heavy on the trigger of his service revolver. “Everyone’s entitled to one good scare.”

“Stop!” You find your voice and almost immediately lose it again as everyone looks at you, including the Boogeyman. “Stop. We can’t do this. He’s a person – we’re all just people – we can’t do this!”

Someone grabs your arm. You hear the snick of handcuffs and feel cold steel around your wrist. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you say, meeting the eyes of the police officer taking hold of your other arm and cuffing it behind your back. “What are you doing?”

“You’re disturbing the peace,” he says as he pulls you to the squad car a few feet away. “Cool off in here, you’ll be safe.”

“This is fucking ridiculous!” you shout. He pushes you into the backseat. “You can’t do this!  We’re not animals!” The crowd returns their attention to Michael as the car door swings shut in your face. But Michael’s attention is focused on you. His stare is scalding. A thrill shoots all the way down your center. Those eyes….

Haddonfield’s heroes square up, adjusting their grips on pitchforks and home appliances. One woman is holding a clothes iron. At last, Michael resigns himself to the task at hand. He stoops and picks up the mask, pulls it on like a second skin. The neighborhood closes in. He is wary, knife in hand, anticipating an attack from any angle, every angle. You know it has been a long night for everyone. You imagine he must be exhausted.

You don’t see who takes the first swing, but from one moment to the next, all hell breaks loose. Improvised weapons whistle through the air, missing, making contact with sickening thuds. Someone fires a gun and misses their target entirely. They try again and aim true and you watch the Shape jerk as he takes two, three, four, five bullets to the chest before toppling to the ground. Everyone is horribly silent until they get their turn to bludgeon him, at which point they grunt like beasts with the exertion of a full-strength swing. You, however, are screaming.

When a final strike from Tommy Doyle ceases Michael’s attempts to rise, the crowd pauses, waiting. You cannot hear the exchange, but you see Karen step forward, pick the knife up out of Michael’s trembling reach, and then plunge it into his spine. You cringe. He slumps. You realize there are tears on your face. You cannot name the emotion that has caused them.

Dimly, you are aware of the edges of the crowd dispersing. Many of them linger, waiting, thirst for violence not quite sated. Brackett waddles forward, gun in hand, aims it at Death’s head. You brace yourself for the crack of powder and skull.

And then, so quickly you all but miss it, the knife is back in his hand, and then it is in Brackett’s jugular, and then the predator is back on his feet. In seconds, a pack of wolves becomes a flock of sheep and he butchers his way through them all, one by one. Their fight is limited, their rage a temporary state of being, their violence unfamiliar.

He is violence incarnate.

Tommy is the last to fall. Michael stabs him in the chest to the hilt, and when he crumbles to the ground, he breaks the bat on his skull and buries the broken shard in his gut. Your scream and the light in Tommy’s eyes die at the same time. Michael surveys the carnage before turning to you.

It is Halloween night, and you are alone.

You look frantically around the backseat. There are no goddamn handles on the doors. There is nothing to grab, nothing to use, no way out. When you look back out the window, he has disappeared. The sound of your breathing is deafening.

The far door opens and you scream again. He is there, and then he is in the car, sliding into the seat beside you. You smash yourself against the door as far away from him as possible. This close, you feel his stare like the point of a knife to your throat. There are no words to describe the power that radiates from him. He is a force of nature distilled into the shape of a man. Your skin tingles, heart pounding. For a long while, he just looks at you.

When his hand reaches towards you, you choke on your breath. When it settles on the bare skin of your knee, a high-pitched whine sneaks out of you. When he slides his hand up your leg, pushing your skirt higher, something inside you clenches.

He grips the inside of your exposed thigh and pulls you towards him, opening your legs. You cannot keep air in your lungs. His fingertips trail up to your groin, leaving streaks of blood on your skin. He touches you through your panties and a moan slips through your teeth. He rubs you firmly and you can feel yourself throbbing.

“M-Michael….”

His fingers hook around the waistband of your underwear and he tugs one side down. You lift your hips to let them slide off easier, your skirt slipping almost all the way up, and he pulls your lacey thong down just to the middle of your thighs, the rolled fabric tight against your skin, keeping you from falling completely open for him. The heel of his hand pushes against your pubis and he slides one rough finger between your lips and across your clit. The sound you make is unholy.

Your head is tossed back against the headrest, hands cuffed and pinned behind your back. He strokes you slowly, insistently, back and forth and then in circles. You are so wet, hips bucking against his palm. You cry out when he pushes a finger into you, then two. He is utterly unhurried, savoring every whimper, the way you squirm in such a tight space. You sneak a look at him and blush at the intensity with which he is watching you through the mask.

He curls his fingers on your sweet spot, rubbing up against your clit with his palm, and you forget where you are and whose fingers are fucking you so methodically and your abdomen clenches mightily before you cum under his hand. Your whole body rocks against the worn leather seat as you bite back a full-throated moan.

Suddenly his hand is gone, and the absence leaves you gasping. Disoriented, you readjust yourself on the bench and look over, afraid he will have disappeared and you’ll be left wondering if he was ever even there.

Oh, but he is still there.

He unzips his coveralls and pulls himself loose from his boxers. He is clearly pleased with your performance. He grabs for your knee again but you are already in motion, clambering across the bench, closing the space, writhing out of your underwear, scrunching your head down away from the low ceiling as you straddle him. His hands, one of them heavily bandaged, are under your skirt and on your ass, pulling you greedily onto his cock.

The way he slides into you is full and perfect. You work your hips desperately, almost frantically, and he digs in his nails, pushes back, forces you to slow down. Your wrists strain against the cuffs. Your forehead presses to his shoulder as the hyperstimulation sends near-painful pulses of ecstasy through your body. You are powerless, completely in his control as he fucks you slowly, thrusting into you and moving you back and forth at the same time.

He brings you to the edge and leads you along it, keeping you right there, and it is blissful and frustrating and he has you panting into his neck by the time he shifts the angle just right and you roll into empty space, sinking your teeth into his shoulder to keep from shouting his name. He grunts softly in your ear as he finishes, his grip on your flesh painful, intentional; you’ll have bruises in the shape of his fingers.

He keeps you in his lap for almost a minute more, long enough for your head to clear, long enough for you to realize your dress, your legs, are smeared with the blood of your neighborhood. They had been ready to kill him.

“I couldn’t let them,” you whisper.

He squeezes your ass one more time before pushing you off of him. He zips the coveralls back up and opens the door. You are suddenly apprehensive as he slides out of the backseat, standing, stretching.

“Michael, wait,” you say, scooting towards the open door, hoping he will not meet you with a knife. “Will you let me…can I get out?”

With one hand braced against the doorframe, he ducks his head back in, regards you for a moment, then reaches towards you. You freeze, but he reaches past you, picks up your underwear, and tucks it into his pocket before slamming the door shut and imprisoning you once again in the back of the squad car.

“Michael!” you yell.

He does not turn.

“Michael Myers!”

He disappears into the night, leaving you to be discovered in your disheveled state by whatever authorities remain.

[birdlungg]

Just rewatched Halloween Kills and had an idea could I get a Michael Myers x innocent reader she and him are together and somehow the angry mob finds out about her and hold her hostage taunting Michael and that’s why he killed all of them and it ends all fluffy or smutty because older Michael is so hot😍

sorry this took so long! Been a wild couple of days

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

“Stop! Let me go!” You scream at the group but they won’t listen. Two men drag you by the arms as you kick and jerk to try to get away. They don't seem to pay you any mind as they pull you down the street. The people around you are armed with bats and crowbars and you feel like your heart is beating out of your chest.

They leave you on your side on the ground, stepping back into the shadows as you sob onto the street. You realize too late that they’re using you as bait for Michael. You see Laurie Strode’s daughter bolting through the alley in front of you. You scream at her for help, for her to let you go. She looks shocked to see you there and hesitates for all of a second before she kneels before you and slides his mask over your head.

You scream profanities at her as she leaves. You can’t believe this is happening to you. Why can’t they just leave you both alone? You can’t see them anymore from inside the mask, but know they are still watching. Michael finally comes into view in the alley opposite you. His face and coveralls are bloody and you can see he’s carrying a large kitchen knife. You sob out his name and he hesitates before continuing toward you.

You try to warn him but you know that he knows what’s going on. He stops before you, booted feet resting on the pavement where you lie. He crouches slightly and pulls the mask from your tear-soaked face with one hand. You close your eyes as he runs the tip of a finger along your face, pausing around a bruise on your cheekbone where you had been hit in order to grab you.

The roaring of several engines coming to life echoes down the street as the group hits the headlights to illuminate you both as they approach from behind the vehicles. Several trucks screech in from the other direction, leaving you surrounded. You’re terrified as they close in on you both.

“Hey, Michael. It’s Halloween,” you hear Brackett say. “Everyone is entitled to one good scare.”

Michael crouches again, this time using his good hand to close your eyes gently so you don't have to see what’s coming. You do your best to make yourself as small as possible, keeping your eyes closed and praying for this all to be over.

Michael puts on his mask, and the group strikes. Each hit makes you wince, and when the gun goes off, it takes everything in you not to scream in fright. Michael takes hit after hit, multiple bullets, and finally a stab to the back from Karen. Despite yourself, you open your eyes a crack.

You can barely see him on the ground through the mob's legs and your tears. He’s not moving - why isn’t he moving? He can’t be dead. You scream through your muzzle again, and he strikes. He rips the knife out of his back and turns, bringing the tip through Brackett’s neck faster than anyone can blink. Blood splashes over Tommy as he recoils in fright.

Michael spares no one, slashing into throats and bellies and tendons. There’s blood everywhere, and you know that most of it isn't his. Tommy is the last one standing and swings the bat at Michael’s head with a shout, but Michael is quicker. He stabs Tommy in the ribs, looking him right in the face with his mask as he collapses, grabbing the bat as he goes.

Tommy lays gasping on the ground as blood trickles from the corner of his mouth. Michael brings the bat down on his head, splitting it open with a massive crack.

Michael stands up to his full height, dropping the bat as he turns back toward you. He approaches carefully as if trying to corner a scared animal before kneeling before you to remove the tape on your mouth.

“Michael!” You gasp and cry as he slices through the tape on your wrists and ankles. As soon as your arms are free you wrap them around him tightly, not caring about the blood getting on your clothing and skin.

“I was so scared,” you sob, clinging to him tightly as he drops the knife and embraces you back. It feels like you spend an eternity in each other's arms, and it still doesn't feel long enough when you finally pull away. He lets you take off his mask and watches you check him over with his one good eye.

You take his face in both hands and kiss him hard, tasting the copper of blood on your tongue and something that can only be described as him.

He made it through this fight, but you don’t know what the next one will bring.

[samaraweaving]

Hey, Michael! It's Halloween. Everyone's entitled to one good scare.

Halloween Kills (2021) dir. David Gordon Green

[rhcenyra]

ERIN’S 13 NIGHTS OF HALLOWEEN 2021 🔪🎃👩🏾‍⚕️🪦🔥🩸

HALLOWEEN KILLS (2021)

Hey, Michael. It’s Halloween. Everyone’s entitled to one good scare.

[fanofspooky]

“Hey, Michael! It's Halloween. Everyone's entitled to one good scare.”