OK imagine rz Michael gets a new nurse who really says to him nice things, takes actually good care of him and one day he hears them saying "I just think he's a poor soul who has been through a lot and deserves love and compassion" and his hearts just đđ and BTW they keep him calm so Loomis just decided to get them together the most time just in case someone angers him. Like they're so close it gets to a point where Michael takes his mask of because they like his face. And he likes them
//Oh my god, yes please?? I donât know if this was a request for a small oneshot but Iâm making it into one (T^T)
It was midnight, and the asylum was still awake with nurses rumbling about and night-shift guards roaming. You and a few of the older female nurses were giving out that nights medicine. You wouldâve done it while in Michaelâs room, but one nurse in particular; Nurse Sarah Ryan, a 63-year-old nurse with severe arthritis in her hands, needed help with giving her medicine to her own patients under her care and supervision.
You had soon helped to finish her job, and strolled the cart slowly to Michaelâs room, you and the old dark-skinned woman talked and talked, chatting blindly about family and work and really any topic that managed to arrive from your mouths. You had learned that she had two children, and her husband works in a wood factory, when suddenly, she turned to you, about two feet away from Michaelâs room. âTell me somethinâ sweetheartâwhyâre you still workinâ here?â You looked at the old woman, surprise showing on your pale/dark/tan face. You gulped, clearing your throat and pulling a small lock of (h/c) hair behind your ear. âPardon..?â You asked, confused. She pursed her lips, eyes narrowing before cocking her old hip out, being a bigger woman. She pointed at Michaelâs door. âMost nurses who come to take care of that hunk of a man, end up leaving within the first week,â she said, turning to look You in the eye. âYouâve lasted three months,â she said, crossing her arms. âMost who work here fear that man who resides behind that door, where he makes those god-fore sakes masks all day. No one has seen his face, and yet security cameras show that he takes his mask of his face when you are around and now hunnyââ she paused, taking a deep breathe from her rant, âThat man acts like a goddamn puppy around you, and Iâm sorry for snoopinâ through the live feed but he lets you touch him.â She purses her lips. âThe last time some one touched him or his things, he stabbed them with a goddamn fork! Now tell me, how are you still alive?â
You took a moment to react to her rant, eyes wide and blinking like a doe. âW-Well, Nurse Ryan, I justâ...â you cleared your throat and turned your head up, trying to look brave in front of the sassy old woman. âI donât know how I survived. There is no secret, and I could never explain why he lets me see his face or touch him or touch his things, but...â you sighed, pulling the sanitized air in through your nose.
âI just think heâs a poor soul who deserves some love and compassion. The worldâs already rejected him and put him in his place; why not try to make his Hell a by more like Heaven?â
The old woman smiled softly, a stark contrast from her rant before hand, and she smiled. âThatâs all I wanted to hear, Hon, but thank you.â She said. You looked at her, confused, but nodded.
On the uncomfortable cot inside the locked room, Michael Myers sat, head in his hands, big muscular body hunched over as his long blonde hair hung in front of his face, recently washed thanks to you. He even smelled slightly like youâLavender. A very big difference from his over-powering smell of B.O and must. It was strange how his mind swarmed. He had heard everything, every word from your pretty mouth of which he now had the urge to..what was it, Kiss? The more he thought of it, the more his heart pumped, and the more his chest ached. It was a deep ache, a meloncholy ache that hurt his chest, making his shoulder blades stretch further and making him hunch down farther into a little masculine ball.
Why would you stand up for someone like him? He knew he wasnât a kicked puppy, he could very well break someone in two if he really wanted. He wasnât the sad pudgy little boy he used to be, he was a giant tall mass of intimidating buff muscle, he wasnât afraid to hurt anyone, obviously. But that doesnât mean he was still insecure. He wore the masks for a reason. His childhood bullies would never leave his mind; Ugly. And now, a living monster. Why would you defend someone like him? He tried to hold back the urge when you walked in the give him his medicine. He saw the look of worry on your face, thinking he was trying to contain his anger, about to have an episode.
But suddenly you thought different when he stood up, ripping off the orange paper mask and revealing his surprisingly handsome and sharp-edged face, and cornering you against the wall, shoving his face closer to yours, hands gripping your waist harshly, fingers accidentally digging into your skirted/panted hips, and soon found his rough lips against yours, his chest and legs pressed fiercely against your side, not in a sexual way. He just stood there, kissing your lips sloppily and in an inexperienced way.
After all, you would be his first kiss.
