Michael Langdon - oneshots

ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ ʜᴜꜱʙᴀɴᴅ

"It-It's not like that, it was never like that. I tried to bring you here, bring you home to me. I had my men searching for you day and night. When I heard they still hadn't found you, it was too late...I-I thought you were dead, everyone convinced me you were gone...I mourned for you."

He began to walk his way down the steps, ever so cautiously, as though not wanting to frighten you away. It pained to hear that Michael had given up so easily and yet a part of you, was ungrateful for the witches finding you first before Michael.

He was your husband, and you should've known better. After Cordelia had confided you with the fate of the Antichrist, you should've searched for Michael, and just as he said...It was already to late.

Whoever was in charge of dismissing the nuclear attacks did so during a time, where you made the haste decision to regroup with your fellow Coven. They were there first, when they found you, seeking you out first, trying to claim as much helping hands as they could get. It was all to coincidental: pure fate that you felt was beyond your mundane control.

Here you stood amongst your Coven, Michael standing before you as the Antichrist, and you completely torn between the two.

You both were in the wrong, both in complete bewilderment of each other.

Should he have told you that he was the Antichrist, perhaps circumstances would have changed, the Apocalypse may not have ever happened.

You fell in love with Michael, the humanity in him, his innocence was compelling enough to convince you to want to remain by his side as time went on.

Should he have told you earlier on, you would have sought to change him, reassured him that this path his so called 'father' had set out was unnecessary, if he simply had told you the truth.

And yet, here you stood, realizing that this was much more than a coincidence that the Coven found you before he ever could, that you both had survived and were now face to face, and yet still madly devoted to one another.

You couldn't deny it... Michael was your husband, and you'd promised to love him since. You simply couldn't rid that foundation of endearment you both had sought in each other now.

"Y/N"

Instantly, he fell to his knees, crumbling before you with fear of rejection.

You knew Michael: you were aware of his past and the ordeal he'd faced having been disowned by everyone he ever truly loved. All he ever wanted in life was forgiveness and more so, redemption.

The familiar, reassuring grip of his arms instinctively wrapping around your waist, pulling you tightly in, wanting nothing more than to embrace you, his wife. It was overdue and definitely, comforting.

"Please forgive me, my love-"

His sobs beginning to sound, desperation and despair alive in the sheer tone of his broken voice.

"I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry, Y/N."

As though out of instinct, tears began to streak down past your cheek. You had never seen Michael in this state, having only ever heard of his past experiences. You couldn't bear to witness how miserable he must have been. Your hand gradually began to pat his silky hair, the other caressing his cheek, trying best to wipe away his tears.

Kneeling down to face him, you felt was a terrible mistake, as now you were completely helpless from resisting the urge to cry.

"Of course, my love. Of course, I forgive you."

Your arms wrapped instantly around his head, embracing him in a heartfelt hug, as he continued sobbing against your chest, his cries muffled, his hot tears soaking against the fabric of your dress.

This was the Michael you'd grown to know, and had inevitably grown to love: surely now the witches, and Cordelia would realized that if Michael was essentially capable of love, redemption was a viable option for him still.

He was no Antichrist in your eyes...He was simply Michael Langdon, the love of your life, your dear husband.