Could I request playfully wrestling with Michael? It might take some convincing but I feel like if you pushed him enough maybe he would do it with you😂
Only if you want to write it! I love your stories sm💕
Of course my love, you can request anything your pretty little heart desires 🥰
Sanitarium Shenanigans:
Micheal sat in bed, staring up at the ceiling for the millionth time. He had long past reached the point where he wasn’t allowed a room mate. So he had nothing to focus on but his own thoughts. He’d grown used to his thoughts, they rarely ever scared him anymore. I’m fact he relished their delinquent beauty sometimes, allowing them to satisfy him enough that he could behave.
There was only one thing that truly ever got Mickey to misbehave in this hell hole, and it was Samuel. He hated the doctor more than he hated anything in his entire life. He thought the man was a waste of air, and wondered what his lungs would look like displayed and pinned on his cell wall. That’s really what it was, a jail cell, but Micheal was too young to go off to Jail. So they trapped the boy in this place instead.
Micheal found comfort in meal time. It let his curiosity free, allowing him to watch the deranged people that mingle before him. He saw how some had chains, some had their own guards. Others spoke to no one, and some never opened their mouths, not even to eat. Mickey hated the food here, but he learned if he scared the right people they’d give him their pudding. And today Micheal found a new victim.
Peoples heads turned as she was escorted through the double doors. Few people came late to meal time who weren’t in trouble. But nobody knew if that was the case with you yet, they’d never seen your face before. You were small, the guards easily lifting you to carry you to a table on the corner of the room. Micheal noted you weren’t putting up much a fight, maybe you couldn’t. This intrigued him, most people weren’t this Calm when they came to Smiths Grove. The guards roughly placed you down at the table and untied your hands. Micheal watched as one of the men leaned down and whispered something in your ear. But your face gave away nothing, it was as unbothered as it could be.
Micheal planned his strike then, waiting for the guards to leave the room again, probably to go drag in their next victim against their will. That’s what he liked to think you all were, just victims waiting to be slaughtered. Some at their own hands, some through neglect, but his chest puffed up with pride thinking he could get away with a few in here. So he made his way over, adjusting the clown mask he had on and sat across from you.
You raised your brow at the strange young man, as if prompting him to speak, but of course he never did. So you studied him, just as he studied you, in a silent agreement that none of you would push this unspoken boundary that was set. You watched as his breathing got heavy, and contemplated what thoughts could be plaguing that pretty little head of his. That was the first time Micheal saw your face show a proper emotion, disgust. He wasn’t aware of what caused it, of what conclusions you’d come to make about him. He liked the way your face wrinkled when you looked at him like that. Little did he know you weren’t disgusted with him, but rather yourself.
You saw his eyes shift from you to the food in front of you. He was hungry, you thought. So you shifted your tray forward, slowly, as not to startle him. Your parents had warned you that people in places like these were skittish sometimes. But that didn’t seem to be the case with the boy seated before you. Micheal simply shook his head. That’s when you noticed the pudding cup that was left off your tray, and you looked back up at the boy across from you.
Micheal watched with glee as you slid him the pudding. His heart nearly skipped a beat when his skin touched yours. He was eager to grab the treat and didn’t care much that your hand was still attached. But he could use this, this could be his moment to strike fear. To give you a silent threat that he would hurt you if you didn’t give him what he wanted. But he froze when you didn’t flinch back. The warmth from you skin radiated into his. When it was clear to Micheal you wouldn’t back off, he moved first. He quickly stood from the table and walked back over to his own, but he didn’t miss the tiny smirk that plastered itself onto your face.
Years had past since that day. Micheal and you still trapped in this hell. He could tell this place had taken a tole on you, slowly wearing your down. And he despised it, of course you were still you, but your fire had died a little. Micheal wanted to see your burn, not in the literal sense, though he’d let that thought consume him from time to time. Micheal wanted to see if he could push you past your complacency. He hated that you’d just given up, taken your meds, participated in therapy. He still never learned what landed you here, and that intrigued him. But there were two ways this thing could end, you’d behave, but likely be stuck here forever. Which meant you had more time with him, but you were already slipping away and he was sure he’d kill you if you grew anymore dull. And then there was option two, you cooperated and they let you go. You’d be set free, but that meant he couldn’t have you. Micheal didn’t like either option.So he made an option three, drive you to insanity, make you a sick as him.
A few weeks had passed since that day and Micheal could see his plan slowly working. Micheal and you had learned your own language over the years, something that couldn’t be overheard by reaching ears, or read by prying eyes. You’d known some sign language before you got there, but even that could be interpreted if Dr. Loomis wanted to apply enough effort. So you made up your own words and taught them to Micheal. You two never needed full sentences, fragments were more than enough when body language alone didn’t convey the full message.
“Stressed?” Micheal asked.
“Loomis.” You spelled.
Micheal pushed you to go on with a single glance.
“Home, soon, better.”
Micheal bit back a smile at your frown.
“Better, good.”
“Better bad. Feel worse, pressure…”
You made a fake exploding gesture with your hands and Micheal watched on in amusement. He knew many people would be thrilled to leave, but it seemed he was actually pushing you to stay. For weeks now he’d been telling you how scary he remembered the real world being. How everyone who left always came back, and the ones who didn’t, didn’t live long enough. Micheal wanted you to feel safer here, trapped, with him. But his excitement quickly faltered when he saw your lip quiver and his heart nearly stopped when he heard your voice for the first time in years.
“What if they- what if they don’t like me. I can’t undo the things I’ve done. I can’t go back there Micheal, I can’t leave-“
You quickly shut your mouth, not wanting to finish the rest of your sentence. Mickey hated sappy bullshit, and you despised upsetting him.
“Stay.” He signed.
“How?” You signed back.
Micheal signed to you his plan. It was something that was fool proof, you’d be stuck here with Micheal a little longer. You’d be safe at his side. So when the time came for lunch that afternoon, a lunch Dr. Loomis himself would be overseeing in order to observe patient interaction, the plan was set in motion.
You hated having to do you part, but you knew it was all a farse. So you tried to play it up for fun.
“You never listen to me Micheal!” You raised your voice slightly.
This got the attention of the guards just like planned. Micheal reached over to try to steal your pudding cup but you playfully slapped his hand. That’s when the play wresting started. No of course the staff didn’t know this was all for show, but they could have guessed by the fact that you weren’t already dead. You leapt over the table, tackling Micheal to the ground and the two of you “fought” over the sweet desert until a guard came over to separate you two. They had to pry Micheal’s hands from your neck, but he knew he wasn’t applying enough pressure to leave anything but a light bruise.
“I hate you!” You spat, for good measure.
That’s when Dr. Loomis finally came over to see what was up. He saw that you’d thrown the first, well slap as it were, and detained you in solitary. Which meant no going home. Of course it also meant no Micheal for a bit, but this was about the long game, not instant gratification. So you tried to squirm away from the guards to make it seem more like you were actually having an episode.
You smiled fondly at the memory of you and Micheal back in the sanitarium. You barely remember the night the two of you escaped, Micheal not even letting you in on his plan to get the two of you out that Halloween. But he carried you in his arms all the way back to his house, making sure the guards and the police weren’t to touch you. It had been a few years since that day, and they still had yet to capture either of you again. Where you went Micheal was never far to follow, being like a silent guard dog. He’d grown more quiet and reserved than when you first met him, but you didn’t care. He was still your Mikey, and now you were his.
The floor behind you creaked ever so slightly and you look up to see Micheal standing behind you in the mirror.
He clearly had just come back from a fresh kill, he never really left you alone otherwise. He’d tell you it’s because you’re clumsy and can’t be trusted, but you both knew deep down he was just afraid someone would hurt you. He wouldn’t put it past one of his escaped victims or the police to try to use you to get at him, and the idea of that truly made this man’s stomach turn. You whirled around quickly, turning to greet him. But the amount of blood you saw on him worried you.
You grabbed at his cover all sleeve and tugged at it, singling to Micheal that you wanted him to undress. He placed his knife down on your vanity and quickly obliged, not willing to argue with you right now. You sat him down on the bed and quickly disappeared into the bathroom to grab some wet rags and the first aid kit. Most people would freak out over the prospect of getting blood on their bed, but you were used to it. And it was much better than cramming both your bodies into the thinly shaped bathroom. You always wanted Micheal to feel like he could leave if he wanted not, not trapped between your body and the shower. Although in another context you might not mind that much.
But you quickly shot down the thought, clearing your mind of anything other than Micheal and his wounds. He watched from the door way as you scrambled back into the room, seeing your limbs flail around was quite amusing to him. You’d never been the most graceful, especially when you were panicked. He watched as you looked up to greet him and froze, your eyes trialing over his form for a moment before thickly swallowing and visibly shaking your head. He was wearing just a plain tee and some old boxer you’d gotten him a while back. You set the stuff down on the bed and got to work cleaning him up. The two of you remained in a silence, which normally was comforting, but now the air felt clammy.
Your worry calmed as you realised most of the blood wasn’t his. His scarps and wound were very manageable, but your heart still aches to see him like this. You were praying to whatever gods you believe in that Micheal has successfully gotten rid of the idiots who did this to him. As you finished patching him up, a wave of bottled up anger shot through you and you let it out by shoving Micheal.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” You hissed.
Micheal didn’t see you like this often, but when he did it made the man uneasy.
“What if you’d really gotten hurt you asshole!”
You punched your first into his chest, but he firmly caught your hand in his own, on the second down swing. You didn’t struggle against his grip, just leaned further into him and quietly cried for a bit. Micheal wasn’t sure what to do, so he simply did not move. But when you got quite again he was scared. Scared he’d never great your voice again, scared you’d yell once more, scared because he had no idea what was running through your wonderfully fascinating brain. This time it was Micheal who leaned in, to observe your breathing. It was still fairly ragged. But that’s when he heard a sound that was like a sweet birdsong in his ear.
Laughter. A small giggle rose in your chest, and he felt the reverberations as you leaned against his own. He was confused, why were you laughing? What did you suddenly fine doing funny? Weren’t you just upset? Maybe you really were insane. Which Micheal decided was his finite conclusion when you pulled your next move. You slipped out of his lap, twisting your body and throwing yourself over his shoulder. He dropped his hold of your arm out of shock, and out of fear you might rip your own arm from his socket if he didn’t. Then he saw you lunge for a pillow. You raised the pillow above your head and looked at him with a fierce confidence in your eyes.
“Tell me you’re sorry for not taking care of yourself, or face my wrath, Micheal Audrey Myers!” You proclaimed.
Yep. Crazy. He shook his head no.
“Oh come on Mikey, it’s so easy, or are you not man enough to admit when you’ve done something stupid.”
An almost chortle like sound came from the Shape of Haddonfield. We’re you really bold enough to threaten the man that struck fear into the collective hearts of an entire town? Question his man hood? Oh now you were gonna get it. In a simple motioned, he ripped the pillow from your hand. But you anticipated and jumped off the bed, running for the living room. You hid behind a pillar as Micheal approached from behind, as he turned the corner to grab you, you slid under him, grabbing his leg and bringing him to the floor. You scurried on top of him, sitting at top his own ass, and held one of his hands behind his back.
“Admit it, you know if we had a real fight that night in the asylum, I would have one!”
You argument had shifted. Of course you still wanted Micheal to apologise, he meant the world to you and you hated that he didn’t see himself as important. But that was a stupid wish, he’d never admit that out loud. So you settled for a much more satisfying claim. If he won’t admit that he’s worth protecting, he’d just have to admit that you are capable of defending yourself.
He shifted all his weight into the arm you were holding, rolling the both of you over and nearly knocking the wind out of you. But Micheal would never hurt you, you knew that. This time he sat atop of you, straddling your waist, and pinning your hands between his thighs. He signed down to your.
“Unlikely.”
You rolled your eyes. Squinting up at him in a way that showed you still had the upper hand.
“Oh really? Who do you think you are? Some dangerous serial killer with a long history of violence?” You joked.
You couldn’t see it but he was smiling behind that mask, that stupid, sexy mask. You had it in your mind that it would be coming off, and nothing was gonna stop you. Micheal nodded his head from above you.
“And am I the helpless victim?”
He nodded once more. In that moment of distraction, you ran your thumb in a circle over the inside of his thigh, causing Micheal’s breath to hitch at your sudden, gentle touch. With a smirk, you brought your knee up, grinding it into his sensitive area. He quickly got off you, scrambling back. You flipped over yourself, landing on your feet and walked over to him.
“We’ll you forgot one thing Micheal… I own you just as much as you own me.”
You ran for the couch, equipping yourself which a much sturdier pillow than the one from the bathroom. You knowingly threw it at him, Micheal catching it with ease. But in the second it covered his vision, you disappeared out of sight. Micheal stepped further into the room, scanning the area to no avail. When suddenly he felt a weight on his back, with no idea how you’d managed to get up there so quickly. You put Mikey in a choke hold and leaned into his ear.
“Say it, I’m better than you Micheal.” You whispered in your most seductive tone.
You could almost feel the shiver you sent down his spine. You really knew how to rile him up and you loved it. It was a great way for you two to bond, and a way for you to blow of steam. Micheal didn’t let you do much often, always scared you’d hurt yourself, but you wanted to prove once in for all you were more than capable. Micheal growled, and this almost threw you off your game… almost.
With no hesitation, you bit into the fake ear of his mask, ripping it off his face, as you rolled off his back. You stuck your landing and held the mask in triumph. You paused when Micheal didn’t move. A sudden fear falling over you.
“Micheal?” You asked softly.
You approached him, worried you took things too far. But as you got close, Micheal grabbed you in his strong arms and easily threw you over his shoulder. You squealed, flailing your arms to try to escape, but you knew it was useless. You watched as he walked back toward the bedroom. From your position you couldn’t see his face and this frustrated you.
“Micheal!” You called once more.
But still nothing. You laughed heartily as he threw you down on the bed.
“Micheal I didn’t mean it.” You said.
You plea was honest, but you were still playing it up for points. You hated losing, even if it was to him. You’d finally looked up to meet his gaze, and it held the same fire as yours. You could see a playful sparkle in his eye, and that calmed any of your previous worries. He wasn’t angry, well not in the way that he was angry with the rest of the world. You crawled toward the edge of the bed, trying to climb up to meet his height. Micheal smirked down at you, watching your desperation with a glib sense of admiration. Nobody ever looked at him the way you did, nobody could make him feel the way you did.
“Forgive me?” You said, giving him your best puppy dog eyes.
Micheal just simply pushed you down his body. What you weren’t expecting was the sudden thump of a pillow hitting you smack dab in the face. You laid there stunned for a second. Oh that bastard, using your own tactic of seduction against you. He knew you couldn’t resist his pretty face which is why he never attempted to reach for his mask back. You huffed, sitting up and holding the pillow tightly.
“Not fair.” You sighed.
Your voice was long forgotten right now, feeling too small to escape your body. You were worried your stutter, embarrassing yourself with how flustered you truly were. Micheal tried to steal the pillow from you but you would let him. You held tight to it like a koala as he lifted you and it from the bed. He raised his eyebrow at you. You shook your head, suddenly letting go and grabbing another pillow. You smacked his out of his hand.
A mixture of pillow fighting and wrestling ensued as you both refused to relinquish dominance. Neither of you wanted the other to win, but more importantly, you were both too headstrong to claim the title loser with Grace. So there was only one way this would end, in a stale mate. At least that the ending Micheal was willing to settle for, but you had a different idea.
As he pinned you beneath him once more, and wore that stupid smug look on his face, you thought it was all over. Micheal had “won” which you let him know.
“Ok ok, you won!” You giggled out.
But just as he let his guard down once more, you did the unthinkable. You kissed The Shape. The man who killed countless people, including your own family member who’d thrown you into the sanatarium in the first place. You kissed him and you liked it, oh god you melted into the feeling. Micheal was stunned. Of course the rogue victim tried to use there body as a way to get out of their fate, but he’d never fell for it. He found it gross and unappealing. But with your lips on his right now, Micheal swore he saw stars. You flipped your positions once more, ending up on top and finally pulling away from the kiss for air. You’d long forgotten your stupid little war you started.
You gentle caressed Micheal’s face, thumbing over the scar on his eye, before peppering small kisses over every inch of his face. Each followed by a kind descriptor. But your frowned when he tried to push you away, not excepting your affection. But of course, consent was important to you let him pull back to the corner of the bed. You frowned when he looked hurt.
“Your worthy of love Micheal, I know what Dr. Loomis said all the time, but that old idiot was delusion.” You offered.
You sighed when he wouldn’t look at you. So you gently lifted his face with a hand beneath his chin.
“I love you Micheal Myers, don’t you ever forget that.”
An: sorry this took so long to write, I didn’t want to ruin the fluff by writing in a bad mood. But I’m really happy with how this turned out, and I hope this was what you were looking for. Poor Micheal is just so touched starved. 🥺😭❤️
