#Michael Langdon blurb

[equallyshaw]

saviors & healers- Robby x oc social worker! part one: the healer. - part two. - part three.

ꫂ ၴႅslow enemies-ish to friends to possible lovers(?) trope- lol ꫂ age gap! ꫂ ၴႅၴ dr langdon certified hater. ꫂ ၴႅၴ warnings: swear count. panic attacks. violence. ꫂ ၴႅၴ word count: 4.9k. masterlist:

Dr. Nina Wojicki was practically burning holes through Dr. Robby’s skull. No—scratch that. She was.

The tension in the Pitt was thick enough to scalpel, and it had been since the second she stepped foot inside. Her presence always stirred the air, but today it was sharper. Louder. Angrier.

And the number one name on her helllist—as the rest of the Pitt liked to call it—was Dr. Robby.

She never called him that, though. No, she made a point to call him Michael, every time, no matter how many times he corrected her. It wasn’t petty. It was strategic.

Her stubbornness had long become legendary in the Pitt—equal parts intriguing and exhausting. And today, Michael could feel it in his bones.

Fresh from the University of Chicago with a PhD in Social Work and newly thirty, Nina had wasted no time making the ER her personal battlefield. Charm when needed, daggers when not. She wasn’t here to be liked. She was here to do the damn job—and she was damn good at it.

Michael knew that. Maybe a little too well.

Currently, she was scrolling through the system at the nurses’ station, eyes narrowing at the patient logs. Her tongue clicked once. Then again. Then a third time, sharper now.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered, mostly to herself. “Of course he didn’t log him.”

Across the room, Michael didn’t need to look up. He heard the click. Felt the shift. He knew she was coming.

He braced himself.

Langdon, ever the observant one, caught the look in Michael’s eyes and turned just in time to see the ash-brunette stomping their way. Her hands were buried in the pockets of her coat, fingers twitching around a bundle of Flair pens.

Bad sign.

“Good afternoon, Dr. Wojicki,” Langdon greeted, arms folded and eyes dancing. “To what do we owe this… delightful appearance?”

She shot him a look, then turned to Michael without skipping a beat. “Your incompetent doctor here didn’t log in the psych patient from this morning.”

Michael didn’t flinch, eyes still on the chart in front of him. He was already preparing for the storm. “Oh no,” he said dryly. “The horror.”

Nina’s jaw tightened. Langdon chuckled.

“Don’t even start, Jumpy,” she warned, pointing a finger at him.

He smirked. “Relax, Miss Fidgety. What earth-shattering crime did I commit this time?”

She cocked an eyebrow, sarcasm sharpened like a scalpel. “You didn’t enter the 8 a.m. patient’s info. The one I evaluated. I don’t have access to his file, and now I can’t input my follow-up diagnosis.”

Langdon stepped in. “He’s not your patient, Nina.”

“Excuse me?” Her fire ignited. “He has schizophrenia, Franky. That makes him my patient.”

“It’s not confirmed schizophrenia. It’s a symptom cluster. We don’t slap labels on one visit.”

“Oh, please.” She scoffed. “You wouldn’t have paged me if you didn’t suspect it was psychological and not physical.”

“I didn’t make that call,” Langdon snapped. His eyes flicked to Michael.

Michael still hadn’t looked up.

But he was listening. Every word. Every heartbeat.

Nina pivoted again, now arms crossed. “Wanna speak up, Dr. Michael?” she asked, each word sugarcoated in attitude.

Finally, he shut the file with a satisfying snap and walked past Langdon, slapping the chart into his chest. “Follow me,” he muttered, not sparing either of them a glance.

Nina narrowed her eyes, growling under her breath as she stalked after him.

“So it was you,” she hissed. “You made the call. You looped me in.”

He didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. He knew she’d follow. He always knew.

They reached the on-call room. He pushed open the door and stepped inside.

She shut it behind her with a loud click.

“You gonna keep ignoring me, or are we going to have a grown-up conversation?” Nina asked, arms still crossed.

Michael turned, finally facing her. His shoulders tense, jaw tight.

“You stormed into the Pitt like a damn hurricane, Nina. You wanna talk about grown-up behavior?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, would you prefer I just let bad patient documentation slide? Want me to play nice while someone falls through the cracks?”

His jaw twitched. “No. But you could try not lighting the place on fire every time you find a mistake.”

She stepped closer. “Maybe if people around here actually did their jobs, I wouldn’t have to play fire marshal.”

He laughed, but it wasn’t mocking. It was tired. Honest. “You always this intense, or do I just bring out your best?”

Her lips parted slightly, caught off guard by the way he said it. Not mocking. Not amused. Just… low. Real.

“You bring out something, that’s for sure,” she muttered. Her voice wavered. Just enough for him to catch it.

They stood there—too long. The silence wasn’t awkward. It was dense. Like grief. Like something was about to be said and neither wanted to be the one to break it.

He took a step closer. So did she.

Close enough now that he could see the slight tremble in her fingertips. The crease between her brows. The way her breath hitched before she spoke.

“I paged you because I trust your gut,” he said finally. “Not because I needed a lecture.”

Her breath caught halfway in her throat. “Then next time, say that. Don’t leave me out in the Pitt to fight with Frank like I’m the problem.”

“You’re not the problem,” he said—quiet. Fast. Like it had been waiting to leave his mouth. “You’re just the only one brave enough to yell about it.”

That silenced her.

He studied her—every flicker of emotion she tried to smother.

“You act like everyone hates you here.”

“They don’t have to like me,” she muttered.

“No. But I think some of us do,” he said—and added, almost too quiet to hear—“a little too much.”

Her eyes darted to his.

The air cracked.

It wasn’t a kiss. Not even a touch. But his hand brushed the door handle like he needed to remind himself where the line was.

She didn’t move. Neither did he.

Finally, he spoke. Voice hoarse. “You should probably go document your follow-up. We’ll talk again—just… maybe not in front of the whole ER next time.”

Her lips twitched, somewhere between a smirk and a challenge. “Sure. If you grow a spine and back me up next time.”

He let out a dry laugh. “Deal.”

But as she brushed past him—shoulder to shoulder—neither of them said what they were really thinking.

__

Dr. Nina had just gotten in for the early evening and overnight shift, which she dreaded. But at least there was an upside: Dr. Abbot; who quite honestly felt like her dad in some ways.

Was her father a doctor? No, he was a lawyer. Was her dad a fisher? Also, no. Was he kind, empathetic, but also had a sarcastic side? Yes and yes. Was he also grey haired? Triple yes.

She hadn’t turned on her pinger when her phone rang at her desk, just as she sat down. Her nostrils flared as her mouth clenched, and she picked up the phone.

“Yes?” she spat a little too quickly—and quickly felt guilt seep into her abdomen.

Dr. Robby on the other side was taken back for a moment before speaking, “Dr. Nina? We need you down in the Pitt for a moment—”

She cut him off. “Dr. Michael, I can’t come down at this moment. Is Dr. Alfaro there? Or Dr. Murphy?” she questioned, pinching the bridge of her nose.

She thought of the other social workers who could’ve just arrived or were already there.

She heard Dr. Michael sigh. “Well, yes, but—”

She cut him off again. “I can’t come down, Dr. Robinavitch. You need to find someone else.”

She stated his full name, promptly ending the conversation.

Dr. Michael stood there for a brief few seconds before nodding. “Of course, Dr. Wojicki,” he declared before hanging up.

He stood with his hand finally retreating from the corded phone, his eyebrows crinkled. He didn’t think she’d ever called him by his last name besides the first day they met.

Even though that attitude was a regular occurrence, it was never first thing when she got here.

She slapped the phone back into the receiver and stared up at the ceiling, leaning back in her chair.

God, she hated it when this happened. And she cursed herself for not staying on top of herself.

After moving here from Chicago—five months ago now—she’d definitely let her health and wellbeing fall to the back burner.

Now, it was beginning to take a toll.

She thought she’d be okay moving to a new city. But no. She’d been wrong.

Again.

__

Twenty-five minutes later, there was a knock at Nina’s office door.

She froze.

Held her breath. Slowed it. Willed her pulse to calm as she silently begged whoever it was to just go away.

“I know you’re in there, Dr. Wojicki.”

Damn.

She recognized the voice immediately—familiar and frustratingly warm. Dr. Michael Robby.

With a loud, dramatic sigh, she pushed herself up from her chair and made her way to the door, dragging her feet more than she’d admit.

When she opened it, Michael stood there, eyes scanning her the way only someone trained in observation—and maybe something a little more personal—could.

She looked like hell. Pale, drawn, and tense. Purple bags hollowed out her under-eyes, and her pupils were blown, uneasy. She stood there in front of him, arms crossed too tightly and confidence nowhere in sight.

Very unlike her.

“Are you okay?” he asked immediately.

She rolled her eyes. “Isn’t that my line?”

He chuckled, and somehow it echoed in her chest—warm, unexpected. Her spine tingled. Her cheeks flushed.

“I don’t think I’ve ever actually heard you say that before. Not to me, and definitely not in the Pitt,” he teased, leaning against the frame like he had all day.

Nina exhaled and rubbed the bridge of her nose, eyes squeezed shut. Michael’s gaze flicked downward, catching the faint bruises along her hands—half hidden, half colored by her naturally cool-toned skin.

“Is everything okay, Dr. Nina?” he asked again, this time softer.

Her eyes opened slowly, sharp and guarded. “Peachy,” she muttered before closing the door in his face.

She didn’t slam it. But she made sure he heard the click of the lock.

Michael stood there for a beat, replaying what he saw, what he sensed, and—more than anything—what he believed.

Then he walked away.

Inside, Nina sagged against the front of her desk like someone had pulled the plug. A sob broke through before she could stop it, followed by another, and another, until silent tears carved rivers down her face.

Her body was exhausted. Her mind—shattered. And emotionally? She was drowning. Dried out and waterlogged all at once.

Sleep was a fantasy. Functioning was becoming one too. And if something didn’t give soon, she would break.

No. She was breaking.

She laid a trembling hand flat against her chest, trying to still the panicked beat beneath. It felt like her heart was either going to burst or give out entirely—and she wasn’t sure which terrified her more.

She was running on fumes. And even those were poisoned with depression, anxiety, unresolved trauma—emotions she had battled her whole life, but now, without medication or support, they were winning.

She’d thought the move would bring her peace. A new city. A new chapter. A reset.

But it hadn’t.

It amplified everything.

And somewhere along the way, she’d started to feel abandoned, even though no one had technically left her. She had chosen this. Chosen alone.

But it still stung like rejection.

She felt unloved. Unlovable. Like no one would care if she just… disappeared.

Head tilted back, eyes locked on the dimmed ceiling light, she whispered into the silence—not really expecting an answer:

Why me?

What did I do to deserve this?

How could someone so empathetic, so hardworking, someone who tried so damn hard to care for everyone else… be left to carry this much?

Her only answer was the weight in her chest.

And the silence. Always, the silence.

__

6:42 AM; the next morning.

She had exactly 18 minutes left before she could leave this hellhole—also known as the Pitt. She’d been stuck down here with Dr. Abbott for the better part of her shift, dealing with one psychological patient after another as they rolled in throughout the night. Dr. Nina was now checking in on her last patient of the shift, and immediately, she sensed something was off. Call it spidey senses, call it intuition—whatever it was, the energy of the room shifted, and the hair on the back of her neck stood up.

"Good morning, Mr. Callahan—what brings you in today?" she asked as she approached the computer next to his bed. He didn’t respond, only stared at her. She offered a soft smile. "It’s early, I know. That’s alright."

She was about to speak again when his file loaded, but before she could, he snapped.

"You! You’re the one who fucking poisoned me!" His voice screamed out, and Nina froze.

Me?

She’d never met this man in her life.

"I understand that you’re agitated, and the meds should be working soon, but I don’t think we’ve ever met before. Have you been here—"

He cut her off, suddenly lunging off the bed, his movements frantic. In an instant, he knocked her back into the wall, the sharp edge of a scalpel gleaming in his hand. His IV tore from his arm, blood spilling out and splattering all over her. Nina’s gaze locked onto the scalpel, and her body tensed. Fear crawled down her spine as his face came dangerously close to hers. She turned her head, trying to escape his proximity, but he screamed in her ear.

"You’re going to regret ever giving me meds, Matilda! I’m gonna fucking kill you!" His words were full of rage, and before she could react, the scalpel pressed to her throat.

He didn’t get far before he was suddenly yanked backward. Dr. Abbott, appearing from nowhere, put himself between Nina and the patient. He glared at the man, fury flashing in his eyes. "Don't you move another step," Abbott warned, his voice low but deadly. "I will gladly lose my license today if that means you don't touch her."

Nina coughed, the blood from her neck trickling down her skin. Her eyes dilated, her body still locked in fight-or-flight mode. But underneath it all, she felt like a little girl again, alone and helpless—berated by her parents with no one to protect her.

As soon as Dr. Abbott saw that the patient was restrained by other nurses, he turned back toward Nina. His concern grew when he realized she was nowhere to be found. He looked down.

She was curled into a ball on the floor, her body rocking back and forth, her head hitting the wall behind her with each movement. Uncontrollable tears streamed down her grey-blue eyes, her heart sinking as if it had fallen straight through her chest. She was in a daze, unsure if what had just happened was real or just a hallucination. Was she so dissociated that her mind had fabricated the whole thing?

Dr. Abbott kneeled in front of her, his hand gently resting on her shoulder. "Nina," he said softly, his voice full of concern.

Her eyes snapped up to meet his, and she flinched, pulling away. "Don’t touch me," she hissed, her voice shaky.

"Nina, please, let me help—"

She shook her head violently, standing up in a rush. Her eyes were wide with terror as she scanned the room, desperate to escape the suffocating walls closing in around her.

Before Dr. Abbott could say another word, she bolted. Her footsteps echoed down the hallway as she ran past the nurse's station, where the Pitt crew was just arriving for their shift. They watched her, confused, as she sprinted toward the stairwell. Dr. Michael had just arrived for the day and caught a fleeting glimpse of her ash-brown hair disappearing into the stairwell in mere seconds.

Nina didn’t stop to think. She just ran. She ran up six flights of stairs, her breath growing shallow, her vision clouded by the rush of blood and panic. All that could be heard were the heavy, ragged sobs and shallow breaths as she pushed herself onward.

When she reached the sixth floor, she staggered out of the stairwell. She was met with curious eyes, but they quickly dropped to the blood soaking through her white coat—her neck still bleeding from where the scalpel had grazed her skin. Fuck. She would need a new one. She groaned inwardly.

"Dr. Nina—" Kiara began, but before she could say anything else, Nina bolted past her, heading straight for her office.

She slammed the door behind her, too frantic to lock it. Her eyes scanned the room, searching for somewhere to hide. Her gaze fell on the wooden desk in front of her. She yanked out the chair and collapsed beneath it, curling up into a ball, pressing herself against the solid wood.

Her sobs grew louder as she rocked back and forth, trying to calm herself, but finding no relief. She felt completely undone, trapped in a nightmare she couldn’t escape.

No one would help her. No one would ask if she's ok.

Yet. She didn't want anyone to. She didn't want to seem like a problem. A child.

__

It was a mere few minutes later, Robby going into saving mode, when she heard a soft knock on the door, followed by the gentle click of it opening. Footsteps padded softly into the room, and she immediately froze, her body tensing with unease.

Who was it?

"Dr. Nina?" came the familiar voice of Dr. Michael.

A sob escaped her before she could stop it, and she quickly clapped a hand over her mouth. His eyes darted to the desk—he knew. He knew she was under there. Quietly, he shut the door behind him, walked around the desk, and pulled out the chair.

He looked down at the fragile woman who suddenly felt like a scared child. She couldn’t meet his gaze, too afraid he’d be angry with her—for being a burden, a problem, a mess. She curled deeper into herself, although there was no more space left to retreat.

He knelt down, gently setting the supplies Dana had brought him: gauze, saline solution, stitches, bandages.

"Did that really just happen?" she whispered, the question stopping Robby in his tracks.

"Did they really just attack me?" she asked again, her voice barely audible. She wasn’t even sure her mind was telling the truth—it had lied to her before.

His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

She finally lifted her head, and what he saw confirmed his worst suspicion.

“Did that patient really attack me? Did he really hurt me?” Her voice cracked. She didn’t feel it—her neck, her shoulder, her head. There was no pain.

She was simply numb.

“I think you may be concussed,” Robby said, studying her face. Her pupils were dilated. Her skin was pale—though, with her, that was always the case. Then he saw the cut on her neck, and the blood staining her white coat and black work clothes.

“May I check you? I want to rule out a concussion, Nina.”

Something about the way he said her name—soft, careful—made her heart ache. She nodded, inching just out from under the desk. He checked her eyes with a small light, guiding her vision with his finger. No concussion. Good.

He motioned toward her neck. She sighed and tilted her head.

“It’s beginning to clot. That’s good,” he said, cleaning the area with gauze and saline. Next, he examined the bruises already forming around her neck. She nodded, allowing him to lift her shirt slightly to peek at her shoulders.

Gods, she bruised so easily.

“Already bruised?” she teased weakly.

He glanced at her, then back at the dark marks. A small chuckle slipped out as he reached for a bandage.

“Something tells me you’re not surprised?”

She shook her head. “Unfortunately, with this ghostly complexion? I bruise if the wind breathes on me too hard.”

After securing the bandage, his gaze fell to her hands, marked with smaller bruises.

“May I ask why your hands are bruised, then?” he asked gently.

She immediately tucked them behind her.

“No, no. We’re not doing that,” he said softly, reaching for them again. She didn’t resist as he brought them forward.

She wouldn’t lie—she felt lightheaded. And she couldn’t deny that her breathing faltered slightly when his hands wrapped around hers.

Another confirmation, he thought.

“Is there anyone at home, Nina, who—”

She shook her head quickly. “No. No, It’s just me.”

He nodded, carefully checking her fingers. No breaks. No sprains. Just bruises.

“May I ask why you show up with more bruises every time I see you?” he asked again, voice soft but sincere.

She met his eyes, didn’t pull away. Her hands were still in his, even though he didn’t need to hold them anymore.

She cleared her throat. “My hands… are kind of my go-to when I get really stressed. Or angry.”

She looked down at them. “They’re my personal fidget spinner. I flex them, pull at them, hit them against things just to... feel something. To make my mind shut up for once. I don't know.”

She stopped, realizing what she had just confessed.

His chest tightened.

“Are you taking anything, Nina? Or speaking to someone?”

She shook her head. “Well—not anymore. I used to. Back at the hospital before I moved, I had weekly sessions, meds... but since the move, it’s all taken a backseat and—”

“We have to change that, Dr. Nina,” he said, gently rubbing his thumb across hers. The smallest gesture, yet it made her feel... safe.

“I—I don’t know, Dr. Mic—”

“Robby,” he corrected gently. “Call me Robby.”

She looked up, her grey-blue eyes locking onto his warm brown ones. There were laugh lines around his eyes, but in this moment, they just made him look kind. Steady.

“Robby,” she said, almost tasting the unfamiliar softness of it. “I just... I don’t want to be a burden.”

“An inconvenience?” he asked knowingly. “No. Nina, we as doctors can only do our best when we’re taking care of everything behind the scenes. Our mental and emotional health? Non-negotiable. We can't ignore it. Not in this field.”

She nodded.

“Let’s talk to Kiara. I’m sure she can help,” he offered.

Before she could respond, a knock broke the moment. Both turned their heads toward the door.

Robby quickly pulled back, standing up and tidying the used supplies. Dr. Abbott walked in as Nina stood, straightening her clothes—and that’s when she saw it.

The blood.

Her stomach turned.

Without hesitation, Robby held the trash can out in front of her. A reflex. She threw up. Abbott glanced between the two of them—he knew he’d just walked in on something private. You could feel it in the air.

When she finally stopped, Robby handed her gauze to wipe her mouth.

“Thanks,” she murmured.

Abbott cleared his throat. Nina turned to him, nervously.

“Hi.”

“I brought you some clean scrubs so you don’t have to drive home in those,” he said kindly. “Just wanted to check on you, kid.”

She smiled. “Thanks, Abbott.”

Robby took that as his cue to leave. As he reached the door, she called after him.

“Thank you, Dr. Robby,” she said warmly.

He met her eyes and smiled before stepping out.

When she turned back around, Abbott was already settled in her chair.

“SO. How can I help you, Mr. Abbott?” she teased, and he chuckled as she sat down.

__

The next morning, she was back.

Sharing a shift with Robby and the rest of the Pitt crew. Anxiety had followed her all night and clung to her as she walked in. Would he pretend nothing happened? Would everything go back to normal? She stepped into her office and saw a letter on her desk—no, two. And next to them, a Dunkin Donuts vanilla latte. She opened the first letter, from Kiara. It promised privacy. Off-the-books sessions. No insurance. The line made her laugh softly.

Then, her eyes landed on the other envelope—pure chicken scratch. Robby. The letter was full of warmth, empathy, and gentle wit. He offered himself as a mentor, a sounding board, or even a brick wall for her sarcasm, should she need one. But most of all, the letter offered friendship. A knock sounded. Robby’s head popped in. “Hi,” she said, slightly flustered. She sat back in her chair as he entered, shutting the door behind him without looking away. She looked rested. For once.

“What do I owe this pleasure?” she teased, sipping the latte. He smiled at the floor, then sat in the chair across from her. “Morning, Nina. How was the rest of your day yesterday?” She smirked. “You know I abhor small talk, Dr. Robby,” she teased. “But wouldn’t you like to know?” He chuckled lightly.

“Abbott got me some medical-grade melatonin before I left yesterday. Told me to take three and call it a night once I got home. My cat was very concerned when she woke me up screaming, because I forgot to give her her lunch,” she mused, sipping her coffee.

“A cat?” His eyebrow flicked up, curiosity growing.

“Yes, a kitty. You’d know that if you stopped trying to small talk me every day,” she hummed. “But yeah, I have a six-year-old tabby named Kilo, which—yes—you can already guess why he’s named that. I just say it’s Australian when people ask.”

Robby smiled. “Well, good to know there’s more to you than that wall you keep up,” he said warmly.

She tilted her cup toward him. “Glad to hear some not-so-rude humor from you today, Dr. Nina,” he added boldly.

Her mouth popped open in surprise. “You asshole,” she muttered—but she knew exactly what he meant. She had been a bitch the past few months, after missing her medication refill.

“Dr. Kiara already called UChicago, got your meds refilled—they’re sitting in your desk drawer,” he explained.

She sighed. “I’m gonna kill you all. Starting with Franky downstairs,” she chuckled.

“Oh, wait now, I need him in the clinic today. Maybe after our shift ends,” he replied, sipping his coffee.

“I guess I can hold off,” she playfully sighed.

The two of them sat in a comfortable quiet for a moment, studying one another.

“I don’t want you—or Kiara, or Abbott—to think I’m some kind of weak child who can’t handle this job,” she said gently.

Robby shifted in his seat. She continued, voice steady but low.

“I don’t want you to think I’m incapable of doing good work. My fuel and passion are what keep me going. The reasons behind what I do—they’re at the forefront of my work, every single day.”

He nodded slowly. “We’ve all got our reasons in this profession.”

“Well…” She hesitated. “My childhood wasn’t exactly the greatest. I think I spent more time alone in my room than anywhere else, scared of which parent was going to scream at me next. The only time I felt seen by my family was when I was on my deathbed—figuratively speaking.”

She stared out the window, her features softer than usual. Vulnerable.

“The reason I am who I am—and why I do this work—is because I became the person I longed for as a child. The one I begged for. Screamed for. Until I lost my voice,” she said quietly. “Even then, no one came. No one helped. No one saved me.”

Her gaze dropped to her hands.

“So when I get the chance to save someone else—or just be there for them—it heals me. Little by little. Heals me without me needing to beg for assistance or worry if someone’s going to care. So I don’t have to ask for help or make someone worry about me.”

Robby watched the guilt start creeping back into her eyes. She was bracing herself for rejection.

But he leaned forward instead, his voice warm.

“Well… thank you, Nina. For opening up to me. I want you to never feel like you’re a burden—because you’re not. Your reasons, your passion for this work—it’s admirable. You haven’t let your trauma, your insecurities, or even your setbacks hold you back. I’m incredibly glad to have you here.”

He held her gaze. Those words and his gaze, held something a bit more.

“And I want you to know—everyone else, even when you’re a complete bitch—”

She giggled, softly. A smile crept up on his face.

“—to everyone. Especially me. We’re grateful you’re here. Today and every day. You’re a damn good doctor, Nina. And you’re irreplaceable.”

She felt something warm and unfamiliar creep up her chest—but all she could manage was a nod.

“Thank you, Robby. I appreciate that,” she murmured.

He nodded and stood. “Now meet us downstairs when you’re sure you won’t tear Franky’s head off.”

She giggled again, just a little.

“Tell Franky to put me in the system,” she quipped.

He nodded. “Will do.”

She smiled a little wider, a little brighter than she had in weeks.

Robby left with a heart full—and a smile that didn’t leave his face the rest of the day.

Nina looked back down at the letter Robby had written, her eyes lingering on the number scribbled at the bottom.

But they flitted back to the line just above it—the one that struck her the most:

You don’t have to carry the weight of others or feel like you’re a burden. First, it’s not your weight to carry. And second, you will never be a burden—to the hospital, to the crew, and especially not to me.

eeeeeek! hope you all enjoyed!!!

please like and reblog, if you enjoyed!

[writing-girlie]

Push & Pull • Part 2

Pairing: Intern!Reader x Mentor!Michael Robinavitch & Platonic Reader x Langdon

Blurb: Robby has fought his feelings for weeks, but after a teasing push from Langdon, he can't hold back any longer. Confronted in a quiet room, he admits what he's been trying to deny—he wants you. Now, there's no going back.

WC: 2.3k

Part 1 is here / Part 3 is here

Note: Willing to write Part 3 if y'all want it, thinking about making it smutty but if you don't want that lmk

Robby had been keeping his distance for a few weeks now, and you had let him. What once had been easy and playful had become something else entirely. He had drawn a line, and you felt it. Every time he walked past you without a word. Every time he spoke to you in clipped, professional tones. Every time his eyes skimmed over you like you were just another intern.

Except, he wasn’t perfect at it because even though he tried to act indifferent, his body betrayed him. Like now.

Robby stood across the nurses’ station, reviewing a chart. His shoulders were stiff, the grip on his pen a little too tight. He was aware of you. You could feel it when you laughed at something Dr. Langdon had said.

"You know," Langdon drawled, stepping closer to you, voice low enough for only you to hear. "For someone who's supposedly ignoring you, Robby sure as hell keeps looking over here."

You didn’t turn your head, but you didn’t need to. You felt it.

"You’re imagining things," you murmured, flipping through your notes.

Langdon let out a brief laugh. "Please. That man is suffering."

You finally glanced up at him, arching a brow. "Are you enjoying this?"

His smirk widened. "Immensely." Then, with a sudden movement, he leaned in just a little too close, resting his elbow on the counter beside you, angling his body towards yours. His voice dipped, smooth and teasing. "You know, if he really wants to keep pretending he doesn’t care, maybe we should give him something to really be jealous about."

You smirk and shake your head. "You’re ridiculous."

"Am I?" Langdon hummed. "Because I think it’s working." Langdon leaned in even closer, voice barely above a whisper. "He’s going to snap. Just a little more of my flirting and he'll drag you to the supply closet"

Your pulse quickened slightly “Shut up” You push his arm softly.

You weren’t playing along. You humoured Langdon, sure, but you didn’t lean into it. You didn’t flirt back, didn’t give him more than a casual smirk or an eye-roll. You weren’t interested but Robby didn’t know that.

He only saw the proximity, the way Langdon spoke to you in low, teasing tones, the way your body language remained open in his presence. He saw Langdon Place his hand on your back, and the way you didn’t immediately move away and it was getting to him.

He strode closer and called out your name. 

The single word cut through the air like a blade, firm and controlled. You turned, finding Robby standing there, his expression unreadable.

Langdon, for all his amusement, merely grinned. "Dr. Robby," Langdon greeted smoothly. "Something wrong?"

Robby didn’t even spare him a glance. His eyes were on you. "I need you in Trauma 3. Now."

There was no room for argument in his tone.

You hesitated, glancing at Langdon, who winked at you before stepping back. "Better not keep the boss waiting," he murmured. 'Have fun' he mouthed as you began to move.

You exhaled sharply before following Robby down the hall, your heartbeat drumming a little faster than it should have been.

Trauma 3 was quiet. Too quiet, there was no one moving or making orders. The second you stepped inside, Robby closed the door behind you then stood in front of it

You turned, blinking. "Where’s the patient? What's the situ-"

"There isn’t one," he admitted.

Your brows furrowed. "So you dragged me in here for..?" you let the last word drag on a moment.

"Langdon needs to stop."

The words came out tight, clipped. His posture was rigid, his hands planted on his hips, as if he was barely holding something back.

You stared at him, folding your arms. "Stop what?"

Robby exhaled through his nose, like he was trying to keep his patience in check. "Flirting with you."

A slow, smile curves at your lips. "Flirting with me? Since when do you care about that?"

His jaw tightened. "I don’t."

You let out a dry laugh, stepping closer just to push him a little. "Right. That’s why you’re standing here, all tense and brooding, looking like you want to harm someone"

His gaze locked with yours, something dark flickering behind his eyes. "I don’t want to harm him."

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. "No? Because it kinda seemed like you did back there."

Robby took a breath, steadying himself. "He’s doing it on purpose."

"Yes, and?"

His brows furrowed. "And you’re letting him."

You huffed out a laugh, shaking your head. "Letting him? Am I supposed to control how he acts now?"

"You’re not stopping him," Robby countered, voice lower now, tighter as he takes two steps toward you.

You then stepped closer, the tension between you so thick it was suffocating. "You want me to push him away? Why? So you don’t have to deal with how much it bothers you? What if I like the attention from him?"

His lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

“Talk to him if you have a problem with flirting in your ER then maybe take a look at yourself.” You walk past him and out the door.

· · ─────── ·���· ─────── · ·

The rest of the shift passed in a blur of movement and noise, but you felt every second of it. Every time you caught a glimpse of Robby, every time his voice cut through the chaos of the ER, every time you were too aware of the space between you and how deliberate it was, it felt so much heavier now.

You were signing off a chart at the nurses’ station when Langdon appeared at your side. “So,” his voice heavy with amusement, “on a scale of one to he confessed everything, how was it?”  

You let out a slow breath, closing the chart in front of you. “He told me to make you stop flirting with me.”  

Langdon grinned, his eyes lighting up like he’d just been given the best news of his life. “Oh, that’s beautiful, and?” He urges you to go on. 

You turned to face him fully. “And he was seething, Langdon. Trying to act like he wasn’t, but it was obvious.”  

Langdon clicked his tongue. “Poor Robby. So close to admitting it, yet still so stubborn.” Then he gave you a look, one full of knowing amusement. “And you? How’d it feel having him look at you like that?”  

You ignore his question and fold your arms. “Why are you so hell-bent on making him snap?”  

Langdon’s smirk deepened. “Because he wants to.” You frowned, but he continued before you could interrupt.  

“He’s dying too. He’s barely holding it together, and every time I flirt with you, it pushes him closer to the edge.” Langdon tilted his head slightly, studying your reaction. “And you? You’re not exactly unaffected either.”  

You shook your head, exhaling sharply. “You’re stirring up something you have no business messing with.”  

Langdon gave you a lazy grin. “Or maybe I’m just giving him permission to feel what he already does.”  

You met his gaze, trying to gauge just how much of this was a game to him and how much was something else. “Why do you care?”  

He hummed, pretending to think about it. “Because it’s rare to see someone like Robby lose control. He’s spent his whole life keeping it together, being the guy who doesn’t crack, doesn’t get caught up in things that aren’t logical. But you?” Langdon’s smirk softened into something almost admiring. “You get under his skin. And that?” He gave a satisfied nod. “That’s something worth watching.”  

You exhaled, glancing toward the hallway where Robby had disappeared earlier. The air between you and him had changed. You could feel it.  

Langdon’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “You know he won’t last much longer, right?”  

You turned back to him, brow raised.  

“He’s going to break,” Langdon continued. “And when he does, I hope you’re ready for it.”   

You narrowed your eyes at him. “What do you mean by that?”

“Robby isn’t the kind of man who gives himself permission to want something, not fully. You’re the one thing he can’t ignore.” He paused, as if letting you process that before adding, “and you’re making him feel things he’s never allowed himself to fully feel.”

You tilted your head, as you absorbed Langdon’s words. There was something almost fascinating about how he seemed to understand Robby so well. 

"He’ll either let you in fully, or he’ll shut you out completely. These lines that he’s drawn? They won’t exist anymore. It’s going to be all or nothing for him."

“Shut me out, you mean like what he's doing now?” 

“No,” he said, tilting his head slightly as if considering his words. “What he’s doing now? That’s him trying to convince himself he’s still in control.”

“God, he's gonna hate me” You state, you pinch the bridge of your nose. 

Langdon’s laughs softly “He won’t hate you. He’ll hate that you’ve made him feel something he can’t ignore.”

You frowned, trying to shake off the weight of his words. “It’s a disaster waiting to happen.” You sighed, anxiety crawling up your chest. “What if it all goes wrong?”

Langdon shook his head, dismissing your thought. “Then you two will figure it out. You both want this and you're both stubborn, neither of you will just give up easily.” A nurse than calls his name “Gotta go” he gently pats your arm. 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The next day unfolded with the same heavy tension in the air. Except today you knew what you wanted. You needed to push Robby over the edge, no matter the result, and Langdon was just the person who could help her do that.

You told him what to do and when to do it. As the end of your shift was approaching Langdon caught your eye, silently asking if you were sure. You give him a brief nod. Robby was on the other side of the nurses station and would have a perfect view. 

You stand at the desk, looking through a file when Langdon walks up to you. His hands rest either side of you, keeping you in his vicinity and his chin rests on your shoulder. 

“I better not get reprimanded for this you softly chuckle, turning your head towards Langdon. 

He smiles at your tone. “You won't.” He then let's his lips graze your cheek. 

"You’re playing with fire," you murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

Langdon smirked. "And yet, you’re the one who asked me to light the match."

Before you could respond, the atmosphere in the room shifted. Robby called out for you. You didn’t turn immediately, just felt his presence, the heat of his gaze burning into you. When you finally looked, his grip on the chart in his hands was tight, knuckles white.

Robby didn’t acknowledge Langdon. His eyes were on you. "With me. Now."

You arched a brow, feigning innocence. "Excuse me?"

"Now."

Langdon takes a step to the side allowing you to follow Robby, you go down the hallway and into a small sitting room.

Robby’s hand slammed against the door as he closed it behind you both, his body blocking the exit, trapping you in the small, dimly lit room. The tension between you both felt unbearable, the air thick with unspoken words. He didn’t waste a second before speaking. 

“Are you interested in Langdon?” His gaze was hard, his jaw clenched.

You shook your head quickly, desperate to ease the sudden weight of the moment. “No,” you answered firmly, trying to meet his gaze, but his intensity was overwhelming.

He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Then why let him get so close to you? Why let him touch you like that?”

You felt your heart race, knowing what this conversation was really about. Taking a slow breath, you finally spoke, your voice softer now. “It wasn’t me, Robby. It was Langdons idea. He saw how you were at first. Said you seemed happier than normal near me, but then you pulled away. You were cold, distant to basically everyone.” You paused, your throat tightening as the next words came. “He said you deserve something good. That I was that good thing but he knew that you wouldn't allow yourself to let go.” You looked away, ashamed, even though you knew it wasn’t your fault. “I'm so sorry I don't know why I let it happen, I should've told him it was stupid and wrong to try and push you especially after the talk you had with me.” The words just pour out of your mouth. 

Robby stood motionless for a moment, just letting you talk. “I didn’t want to pull away, not from you,” he murmured, as if speaking to himself. “I don’t know how to deal with this. With you.” His voice was softer but full of conflict. “Everything between us... it’s not easy. I didn’t want to complicate it.”

You swallowed, your heart aching as you took a step closer to him. “You don’t have to pretend anymore,” you whispered.

He stepped back slightly, running a hand through his hair, as if battling himself. “I can’t stop thinking about you. Every time I try to push it down, it just comes back stronger. You’ve got me all messed up inside. I’ve tried not to feel anything, but I can’t.”

His confession was a raw admission, and it left you breathless. You took another step forward, your voice barely a whisper. “I feel the same way, Robby. I’ve been trying to ignore it too, trying to pretend but I can’t. I want you.”

“I’ve spent years building walls around myself, not letting people get too close” he reasons.

You step forward, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “My plan isn't to make you uncomfortable, I'm not saying let's jump into a relationship right now, just let each other in like we started to. We can take our time”

He nods “Alright, Yeah. We're not in a hurry” His arm pulls away from your comforting gesture and he takes your hand. “One step at a time.” You gently squeeze his hand. “Let's start with dinner. Tonight at mine”

You nod. “That sounds nice”

[cxrrodedcoffin]

𝐂𝐱𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐧’𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 (𝟏𝟖+):

* indicates smut

criminal minds:

spencer reid

hair lockets - one shot

morning glory - one shot *

jealousy, jealousy - one shot *

close to you - one shot *

rock me - one shot *

sweet temptation - one shot *

dead of night - one shot *

nightvisions - sequel to dead of night *

emily prentiss

sweet understanding - one shot *

oh make me over - one shot *

aaron hotchner

the way i loved you: in which reader falls first and aaron falls harder

don’t call me kid - part 1

begin again - part 2

crimson & clover - one shot *

jennifer jareau

is it casual now? - part 1, part 2 * (fin.)

tara lewis

stranger things:

eddie munson

route to sin - one shot *

watching porn w/ older!eddie - blurb *

shades of cool - one shot *

steddie (eddie munson x steve harrington x reader)

american horror story:

michael langdon

the countess

james patrick march

kai anderson

miscellaneous:

chip taylor (68 kill)

stu macher (scream)

cooper abbott (trap)

guiding light - one shot *

stomp ‘em out - one shot *

basement bunny - one shot *

eric draven (the crow 2024)

logan howlett (x-men)

oral fixation w/ logan’s claws - blurb *

rafe cameron (outer banks)

somno anal w/ stepbro!rafe - blurb *

on the run - part 1/3 *

charlie mayhew (grotequerie)

holy diver - one shot *

[crushribbons]

𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

VIP LIST ・ FANDOMS ・ABT ・REQUEST ・TAGLIST ・QUIK BITES

☼ = fluff ・ ☁︎ = angst ・ ☽ = smut

𝖍𝖔𝖌𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖘 𝖑𝖊𝖌𝖆𝖈𝖞

sebastian sallow

blurbs

crushtober

⇥ birdie: sebastian sallow should have been a ravenclaw (multi-part)☽

⇥ cherub: all hallow's eve brings out the evil streak in sebastian sallow ☽

ominis gaunt

⇥ vow: ominis gaunt never makes promises he can't keep ☁︎☽

garreth weasley

blurbs

⇥ silk: the years have been exceedingly kind to garreth weasley ☽☼

poppy sweeting

⇥ honeysuckle: poppy sweeting is a little naïve in all the right ways ☽☼

leander prewett

⇥ stupid: leander prewett holds the record for densest man alive ☽☼

imelda reyes

blurbs

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖇𝖔𝖞𝖘 𝖎��� 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖇𝖔𝖆𝖙

joe rantz

blurbs

bobby moch

blurbs

⇥ fair game (series): bobby moch makes for a very passive-aggressive roommate part one・part two ・part three ☼☁︎

don hume

blurbs

crushtober

⇥ blush: it's hard for don hume to talk about awkward subjects ☽☼

𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖘𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖔𝖓

alicent hightower

⇥ hypocrite: alicent hightower, queen of the realm, cannot sin alone ☽

rhaenyra targaryen

blurbs

daemon targaryen

crushtober

benjicot/davos blackwood

crushtober

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖕𝖎𝖙𝖙

dr. michael robinavitch

⇥ thanks, peg J: dr. robby needs help building a shelf

dr. frank langdon

⇥ the hot, flirty resident curse: dr. frank langdon just sustained the luckiest on-the-job injury ever.

𝖘𝖆𝖑𝖊𝖒'𝖘 𝖑𝖔𝖙 (2024)

ben mears

⇥ stranger: ben mears is new in town and just trying to work on his latest novel ☼☽

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖚𝖒𝖇𝖗𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖆 𝖆𝖈𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖒𝖞

klaus hargreeves

blurbs

𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖔𝖒𝖘

check here for the most recent list of fandoms i'll write for! and always feel free to send me a request for whatever's on your mind and i'll let ya know if i can write it ❤︎

[redroses07]

My Masterlist.

Fics!

Outer Banks:

JJ Maybank Dating Headcanons

Forgotten Breakfast // JJ Maybank

American Horror Story:

AHS Boys Cuddling Headcanons

Tate Langdon // Enemies to lovers Headcanons

F**k It I Love You // Michael Langdon

How The Evan’s Would Be With A Reader Who Has Panic Attacks

Kit Walker Headcanons

Date Night // Kit Walker

James Patrick March Headcanons

Young Sheldon:

Meeting His Family // Georgie Cooper

The Black Phone:

Real First Date // Vance Hopper

Stranger Things:

Detention // Mike Wheeler

Lazy Summer Days // Mike Wheeler

Nightmares // Mike Wheeler

Finn Wolfhard

The Rock Show

Real People Fiction:

Heartfirst // Johnnie Guilbert

Heartfirst // Johnnie Guilbert pt. 2

Guitar Lessons // Johnnie Guilbert Blurb

Unexpected Proposal // Tommyinnit

Luigi Mangione x Fiance!Reader

Unexpected Consequence // Sam Golbach

Agents of Shield:

Day Off // Deke Shaw

Supernatural

Promise // Sam Winchester

General Supernatural Headcanons

Teen Wolf

Just Friends // Stiles Stilinski

The Umbrella Academy

Five Hargreeves x Reader S4 Ending Rewrite

Star Wars:

Coming soon!!

Mood Boards <3

Outer Banks:

Rafe Cameron Dating Aesthetic

Jake and Johnnie:

Johnnie Guilbert Dating Aesthetic

Taylor Swift:

The Last Great American Dynasty

The Archer

Agents of Shield:

Daisy Johnson/Quake Aesthetic

Deke Shaw Dating Aesthetic

American Horror Story

Kit Walker Dating Aesthetic

[ksascriptt]

Updated master list (mostly who I hyperfixate on)

This is mainly just a list of who you’ll see me yapping about and who I’m into, and will occasionally see a blurb on

Marvel

Tony Stark

Thor Odinson

Pietro Maximoff

Steve Rogers

Logan Howlett

Matt Murdock

Avengers

The Pitt

Michael ‘Robby’ Robinavitch

Jack Abbott

Bleachers and Bedside Manner

Mel King

Frank Langdon

Samira Mohan

Dennis Whittaker

Dana Evans

Heather Collins

Criminal Minds

Aaron Hotchner

Suck It and See

Too Much To Ask

Emily Prentiss

Derek Morgan

Whole BAU Team

Various

Tangerine (Bullet Train)

Any Patrick Dempsey character

Anakin Skywalker (Star Wars)

Jake Peralta (Brooklyn 99)

Jack Griffin (AP Bio)

Percy Jackson (Percy Jackson)

Almost any Seattle Kraken player

Jake Seresin (Top Gun)

Bradley Bradshaw (Top Gun)

Nick Bradshaw (Top Gun)

Alex Turner (Arctic Monkeys)

That one hot guy in your life, maybe a cashier or a teacher 🤷‍♀️

[stanvogelswife]

Should I post the Michael Langdon fanfic/blurb I have had in my drafts for months?

[3fluffies]

Fic Update: Angels Awakening (Angels & Demons AU Sequel)

With the blessing of the original author, I have adopted her 10+ year unfinished series, rechristening it Angels & Humans: An AU of the Angels & Demons 2009 film centered on Ewan McGregor’s portrayal of Camerlengo Patrick McKenna that incorporates amazing supernatural/mythical elements.

The first installment, Angels Rising, has been heavily revised with added details with the original author’s blessing, consistent with my passion for worldbuilding and backstory-exploration.

The second installment and current WIP, Angels Awakening, is also being revised, the first new chapter is up, and revisions to the existing chapters with lots of additional detail and new scenes are almost complete:

Prologue:  A year passes after the Illuminati attack and the election of Patrick McKenna by adoration due to his apparently-miraculous survival of the antimatter explosion. The young Pope Michael navigates grief and guilt in his dreams, but just as it seems the healing process is well under way approaching the anniversary of Pope Pius XVI’s death, those dreams take a terrifying turn, hinting at something far more sinister beginning to stir.

Chapter 1: As the first anniversary of the Illuminati attack approaches, Patrick McKenna's nightmares have taken a demonic turn - literally. Cardinal Strauss reveals the strange dream that precipitated Patrick's election as Pope and the possibility that divine intervention has now saved Patrick's life twice. They are still wondering why when they discover that demonic intervention may pose a real threat to the young Pope's life.

Chapter 2: Commandant Richter has questions that his young Pope can't answer, and across the Atlantic, Robert Langdon's colleagues in the Astronomy Department at Harvard speak of a discovery that draws his mind back to a certain doomsday prophecy. New scenes added in which Richter investigates Patrick's injuries and ponders their long, often-contentious acquaintance, and the anniversary of Pope Pius's death arrives with unexpected comfort for Patrick.

Chapter 3: Cardinal Baggia reunites with his rescuer, Professor Langdon, and delivers a translation of the prophecy Langdon found. New scenes added in which Vittoria Vetra recalls a missing scene from the Vatican Grottoes and on the anniversary of his father's death, Patrick finds solace and strength in memories.

Chapter 4: A new unearthly visitor shakes Patrick's faith and sanity to the very core, leaving him and Camerlengo Strauss with a dilemma of whether the investigation should go on at all...or whether the prophecy and the demons harrying Patrick's dreams are all part of a charade by a better-known enemy. Our heroes waver in the face of this encounter, and in a newly-added scene at the boundary of another world, a few of our non-human heroes decide it's time for a little chat.

Chapter 5: Langdon and his new research partner find the smallest of clues that might shed some light on the prophecy. Commandant Richter is left wondering if both Pope Michael and his Camerlengo have well and truly lost it. Then a new scene takes us back in time almost 1500 years to the Gates of Heaven and another encounter between Sataniel and his Archangel siblings!

An Angels & Humans Series Character Guide has also been created with Chapter 1 containing fleshed-out mini-bios of the canon characters, fancasts of the OCs, and Chapter 2 containing details and blurbs on the non-human characters.

[moonbeamsandmayhem]

I don’t read stranger things fic and really never have (and tbh my general fanfic consumption is down quite a bit from what it used to be so I don’t read a lot of fic in general anymore, much less get my rocks off to it or w/e) but I make an exception for your stuff bc like…just the little blurbs and stuff you do are So well written and also So hot that any time you come up on my dash I end up either reading it instantly or sending it to myself to read later depending on where I am, and they legit never disappoint

Like I followed @wroteclassicaly for the Michael langdon stuff (also amazing), saw you through them, and then Bam

You’re genuinely one of the best writers on this hellsite, congrats, thank you, and please have a nice day

Wow, okay, first off let me say how genuinely thankful I am that you took time to send me this. It truly brightened my day and I’m so gratified that you like my writing! I’m still testing the waters with writing longer stuff, so stay tuned for that. But honestly, thank you from the bottom of my heart. You should really be thanking @wroteclassicaly because without her encouragement- this blog would still be a mere figment of my imagination and half of these ideas would be on the cutting room floor.

[sojournlangdon]

What are your sins?

Sojourn!Michael Langdon x gender neutral reader

Warnings: mentions of death, light satanism (if that’s a thing)

Her voice is brash and grating. The garish red she wore could not be more fitting, with its loudness and lack of subtlety. You don’t know why you keep returning to this congregation. The admission process was a joke, which may explain the pitiful leader and members. Surely there was something better than this.

The creak of a door signalled a potential escapee. You feel relief on their part, and wonder what’s stopping you from doing the same. Her unblinking eyes and tense jaw turn to you. You feel your heartbeat more intensely following her question:

What are your sins?

Lips part, and shut. You blink too many times, and an awareness of it only worsens the behaviour. Why the fuck did you sit in the front row?

She looks at you with furrowed brows for a few counts, before opening the question to everyone. You feel heat brush over your face. So much for being above all of this.

The replies are almost as pathetic as your lack of one, petty theft, gun money and adultery. With the bar this low, your actions seem devilish. Were they? You don’t think so, but you decide to get a second opinion.

“Actually, I do have one.” The confidence in your voice is short-lived. She looks at you expectantly, and you feel the intrigue of the sad souls around you.

Voice small, you begin unclearly, before she demands that you speak up. The second time is better, desensitised.

“I killed him, I killed a person.”

You have their attention now, this was a step up in severity, to say the least. She grins, shouts her praise, and tells you to stand and inspire the ‘weaklings’.

You clear your throat, and try to diguise your trembling hands by holding them against the dark fabric brushing your thighs. Most everyone looks morbidly interested, but one unfamiliar face appears transfixed, desperate to hear the events.

Tangled, honey-tinted hair, light stubble framing parted full lips, glossy eyes so tired they looked bruised. You may be as equally as enthralled by him. You focus on the space around him, eyes flitting back to him to observe how he digests your story.

“It wasn’t senseless, or random. I may have planned it, but he well and truly deserved worse than what he got. To be honest, I was surprised by my own strength. I mean, keeping someone’s head underwater while they scratch and kick and bite is no easy feat. Drowning doesn’t happen in thirty seconds, and even after he stopped moving I had to hold him down - to make sure.”

You catch your breath, slightly dissociated, no longer aware of their reactions. You don’t know when to stop, so you keep going.

“It was yesterday, in the evening. He’s still there. But I drained the tub and refilled it with ice. I didn’t think about the fact that it would melt, though.”

Heat rises to your face a second time when you see him smile warmly at you, as if you said something endearing. You are once again brought back to reality, reluctantly noting the rest of the room. Some look nauseated, others inspired.

She once again litters you with praise as you return to your seat. For the remainder of the meeting, your mind is somewhere else entirely. You register movement around you as people start to leave, others staying for the shitty potluck. Arms crossed and eyes lowered, you languidly move towards the staircase. That was stupid, a stupid fucking thing to say in front of so many people. What if someone reports you, or tries to copy you or -

“Good riddance. To whoever it was. I’m sure you did the world a favour.” Up close, you can see just how disheveled and weary he looks. A gentle smile graces his features, and when you don’t reply, he gives a light nod and ascends the stairs.

You follow, reaching out to stop him, not willing to let him go just yet. The motion is messy, and you end up with the crumpled black shirtsleeve in your tight grip. Nice fucking going.

He stops suddenly, upper body twisting round. His raised eyebrows makes you cringe slightly, as you lean into the wall to let others filter past.

“I could use some help. You know, with the body. If you’re interested.” Another excellent move on your part.

His eyes soften, and you think he would have laughed if he was any less fatigued. He nods, tells you to lead the way. So you do. At some point during the walk home, you notice that your hands are loosely intertwined. You’ve been so fraught with nervous energy, that you don’t remember who moved first.

It’s quiet, mostly your own voice. You talk about where you live, potential dinner ideas, and that forensic psychology module you did once. He looks relieved when you insist that he takes a nap before anything else, and you when confirm that the shower is separate from the bath.

Only when you’re outside the building do you think to ask the blonde boy’s name, learning that it’s Michael. His delicate features work with his name, you decide.

“Like the Archangel. Cute.” He scoffs at that.

“Not quite. Really, I could prove you wrong there.”

[fckinsupreme]

maybe one story about michael being jealous and obsessed with her?

Some fire & reign daddy for you!!

———————-

Michael was a man of few interests, and the beautiful woman that worked for the two jokers he was consulting with had been one. The moment he saw Y/N, with her short skirt, her white button up top, her thigh highs & heels, her hair done in a way that made her facial features pop, he knew that he was done for. It was instant obsession—not love, for he did not believe himself capable of it, but an infatuation so intense that it nearly brought him to his knees. But there was one big problem, and it was one that Michael should have seen coming, but once which he still could not have anticipated at the same time.

There was another man who worked at Kineros, one that Michael barely associated with, but one that Y/N had liked very much. It wasn’t enough that he was armed with this knowledge through Mutt & Jeff’s interactions with each other, but also the fact that Michael had to watch Y/N and that asshole flirt with each other every single fucking day. The way she touched him, her smile, the seduction in her gaze, the way her chest puffed out, the way he moved closer to her, the way they whispered in each other’s ear, her laughter…all of it. It drove him up the fucking wall, and the jealousy nearly ate him alive. He knew damn well he could easily take care of it by ripping the bastard’s spine right out, but what would that solve? Y/N would hate him, and he would never get to experience what it was like to have her, to hold her, to kiss her, to touch her, to be inside of her…

No, it was too much of a risk. One that he was not willing to take.

Michael would always conveniently turn up everywhere she seemed to be—the copy room, work room, the lobby, the cafeteria. It was all a matter of knowing her schedule, something he had memorized like clockwork every single day. He knew exactly when she had a meeting, or a lunch date, or when Mutt & Jeff needed her for something. He was always there, hoping to get a glimpse of her. Glimpses and “accidental” encounters were well & good for a little while, but then the day came where it was no longer enough. He had to have her, before it drove him absolutely insane. He had to know what it was she felt, or how she tasted, or how her body would feel pressed against his.

It was time for action.

He found her alone in the copy room one afternoon, humming to herself as she made a series of copies at the machine. She was startled by his sudden appearance, having not heard him enter the room, and placed a hand to her chest as she giggled in relief. He was delighted to see that she was cornered now; he stood between her & the exit, and there was no way she could get out without getting past him. This was the moment he had been waiting for, and he would not let it be fleeting. Besides that, he knew that there would be no issue in making her stay; he could sense she didn’t want that to happen. The smell of her arousal—thick, sweet, pounding, irresistible—was hanging like a veil between them, and he could sense how badly she wanted him. Whether she would admit it or not, he already knew.

“Y/N,” he says, his voice like velvet as he surveys her hungrily. “How convenient that I would find you here.”

“Just like how it was convenient that you found me everywhere else?” she quips, her head tilted to the side as her eyes narrow. “It’s funny how you turn up everywhere that I go, isn’t it?”

“Perhaps,” Michael says thoughtfully, closing his eyes as he thinks it over for a moment. “Or perhaps I’m just following your scent.”

“My what?” she asks, looking at him in confusion. “What are you, a dog?”

“No,” he drawls, his fingers brushing down her forearm. She recoils out of surprise, but allows him to touch her again when he makes another attempt. “I can tell how attracted you are to me. You may call it a sixth sense, or perhaps a superpower. Whatever it is you want to believe, I can tell how much you want me. I can /smell/ it, Y/N, so don’t try to lie to me. It will end very badly for you if you try it.”

She laughs wildly, her brows knitting. “Is that what you think this is? You think I want to hop on your dick, and what, exactly?”

“Whatever it is you fantasize about doing with me, I suppose,” he says. “That isn’t my business to know; I just know that you lust for me.”

“I do n—“ she begins.

“I own you,” Michael says, backing her against the wall as her eyes widen. “Whether you know it or not, you are /mine/.”

“Excuse me?” she says, her brow raised as an expression of fury crosses over her features. “What did you just say?”

“I think you heard me quite well,” Michael says, pressing her further against the wall. “I said that you are mine.”

“You’re delusional,” she spits, and Michael is taken aback by her bold remark. “If you truly think—“

“I /know/ that you are,” he hisses, his hand coming up to close around her throat. He brings his face mere inches from hers, and he can feel her pulse quickening under his touch. Fear, possibly, but Michael knew better; she was aroused, the desire for him coursing through her veins as she tried to remain as cool, calm, and collected as possible. “Don’t deny what I already know. It won’t end well for you, and it’s just more work for me. I don’t think either of us want any of that, do you?”

She is silent, save for a few shuddering breaths that fall from her lips. Finally, she speaks. “You’re wrong.”

“You are bold to question me,” he says, his grip tightening on her throat as she gasps slightly. “Especially knowing who I am and what I am capable of.”

She opens her mouth to reply, no doubt some off-the-wall, snarky remark. But instead, she just says: “You don’t know shit about me.”

“I know enough,” Michael says, bringing his lips to hers and barely ghosting them. He hears her whine, a sound that is barely audible, but there all the same. “I know that you want me.”

She is quiet for so long—so much, in fact, that Michael wonders if he could have accidentally killed her. But then she moves, and her eyes are fixated upon his. “Let’s just say you’re right.”

“I know I am,” Michael says smugly.

“Fine, you’re right,” she says impatiently. “What do you want me to do about it?”

“I think you already know the answer to that question,” Michael says with a smirk, running a finger between the cleavage exposed by her button-up top. “All you have to do is give in.”

She is no longer hesitant, nor is she in denial or putting up a fight. Her fingers lace through his curls, drawing him closer in a hot, passionate kiss. Michael groans against her lips, and the taste of her is so much better than the fantasy. Of course, he already knew that she was going to be an excellent kisser, and taste sweeter than cream; it was a sixth sense he seemed to have. He grabs her by the hips, pulling her tight against his own as she moans against his mouth.

“That worthless sack of shit you call a boyfriend is not worthy of you,” he breathes as he kisses her neck, making sure to leave behind a series of purple marks in his wake. “You know it, and I know it.”

“Is that what all of this is about?” she asks, her eyes closing as he bites just below her pulse point. “Mmm…You’re jealous of him, aren’t you?”

“So what if I am?” Michael asks, ripping her blouse open as buttons fly & scatter through the room.

“It’s kinda hot, that’s all,” she says with a shrug, but says no more as he leaves bruising kisses all over her breasts. “Fuck…”

Michael comes back to her lips, and kisses her heavily. They make out for awhile, hands wandering, gasps and small moans filling the air, fingers tugging at her hair and clothing. Michael eventually pushes her onto one of the tables, and sinks between her legs in a slow, almost catlike manner. He hikes up her skirt, kissing over her inner thighs as he grins up at her.

“How badly do you want me?” Michael asks her, his tone almost taunting as he bites her inner thigh. She gasps, and he smirks against her smooth skin. “You have to tell me.”

“So fucking badly,” comes her reply, so breathless and desperate that Michael has to bite back a wide grin. “I’ve never wanted anyone as badly as I want you.”

“Good,” Michael says, tugging her thong off and tucking it into his back pocket before pointing toward some of the cameras in the corners of the room.

“What?” she asks, pushing herself onto her elbows to look at what he is pointing to.

“Smile for your bosses, sweetheart,” he says, beginning to devour her cunt as she moans filthily. “They’re watching us right now, so let’s make it worth their time.”

——-

Baby taglist: @littledemondani @with-dandelions-in-her-hands @codyfernmorelikedaddyfern @wroteclassicaly @dark-mei-rose @melodylangdon @xavierplymptons @bloodcoatedeclipse @bitchchatter @welcometothelioncage @angelicmichael @lovelylangdonx

[leyladoesntknow]

“The devil is real and he’s not a little man with horns and a tail. He can be beautiful. Because he’s a fallen angel, and he used to be God’s favourite.” 🖤

[celestialrequiem]

Opera/Chapter 1: A Mistake Waltz

Serial Killer!Michael Langdon x Y/N (ballet reader)

Plot: A delusional fan obsessed with a ballerina...what will Langdon do?

Warnings: Obsessive fan, delusional Michael Langdon, talk about parents death, reader is a perfectionist, and passionate but has self doubts, not sure if this should be a warning but also toxic sibling?, mention of death, noncon voyeurism, depicted graphic murder, mentions of arsenic poisoning and dissection.

Let me know if i missed any warnings please! and this will get darker lol, please don’t read if you don’t feel comfortable! 

Disclaimer: This fic is inspired by one of my favourite films Opera by Dario Argento (one of my favourite filmmakers ever!) and Phantom of the Opera! This is dedicated to those who inspired me they know who they are by now, one them has their name is in the fic! Also of course based in the 70s, none of my fics are based in the present lmaoooo.

Word count: 2.5k

Also the pictures don’t depict the reader, I will be mentioning Edgar Degas paintings in the chapter hence why I used those pictures, but I tried my best to make it inclusive! I am new to writing!! 🥺

7th of April 1974, “Dana, The most viewed ballerina since Anna Pavlova, The Dying Swan” was on New York Times, It was also the talk of their small town Beacon, New York. Shared between people and all over the radio and television in New York City. Dana is loved internationally from Russia, New York to Paris. Nicknamed, “The Pride and Bride of New York City”. However, her sister Y/N isn’t.

The Opera House, despite it being in a small town, it attracts a lot of attention thanks to Dana. Nicknamed the “Broadway of Beacon”, now the best-known landmark, a performing arts facility with 3000 seats in the concert hall, it is host to symphony concerts, choir performances, and ballet shows. With the neoclassical architecture built in the mid 19th century; marble Corinthian columns and bronze busts, expensive velvet and gold marbles for the interior.

The only place Y/N wasn’t allowed access to are the mysterious cellars under the main stage, their manager telling them that the owner’s daughter died there, Unknown circumstances. Her unborn child was found bloodily deformed, hidden in the window seat of the owner’s office.

Rumours were going around of a killer on the loose, murdering women in their 20s. Another rumour states that the murderer likes to uses arsenic, to knock them unconscious and then dissect them, as if they were his own musical instrument. The owner was able to hide it from the tabloid, to avoid hurting the image of the Grand Opera House. The sisters never bothered checking it out, after hearing about the daughter that will remain forever nameless, what didn’t help is their manager brushing it off every time they tried to ask questions, concerning the mysterious disappearance of the body. 

—————-

Before their performance of Swan Lake Acte Un, Y/N and Dana are in their room, Dana’s station is full of roses, dandelions and daisies bouquets varying in colours like their costumes, accompanying the flowers are 100 fan letters delivered by hand, while Y/N’s station is empty like Dana’s love for her sister.  

As Dana finishes applying the tinted red blush on her cheeks, Dana looks up to Y/N in their shared mirror and sees Y/N looking at one of her fan letters, stating in big red lines with drawn hearts all round it that she is a way better performer and more flexible than her sister.

Y/N lost in thought, her only fan didn’t send her a scented letter today.

“You know nobody cares about you, except for me…. of course”, Dana utters with a sarcastic tone

“Thanks, I guess”, Y/N snaps out of her ritualistic obsessive routine of snooping through her sister’s letters and continues applying her mascara.

The manager, Jade yells at them to finish up as the show is about to start.

They start finalizing their visages and their looks with the help of their assistant, tying down the final net layers.

The costume was designed and hand sewn by a known French Designer, Étienne Lefleuve. A blue tutu with silver diamond glimmering against the big studio lights, and accompanying the tutu, a bodice that contains a black tulle, decorated with feathers and rhinestones, and a wing-shaped piece of lace around the waist, the design going all the way to their chest.

However, Dana being Odette, her costume stood out so much more with her top skirt garnished with sapphire lace embellished with feather patterns.  White feathers decorating her earlobe, and a cut crease look, a black eyeliner that help contrast her emerald eyes.

-

For Y/N, The Opera house is her haven but also her inferno. Despite her strong apparent appearance, before a performance, she recites “Memento Mori” three times before entering the stage. To ease her nerve and to remind herself that she is doing what she is passionate about, her first love and only love, ballet.

-

As the Y/N opens the big red wide curtains to the audience of the Opera’s house, she sees him.

He is here again.

A man in the audience always stood out to her, sitting in the front row seats. Long blond locks, plump lips and blue eyes as the colour of a clear blue sky in a summery day. Wearing the same Victorian-like attire when he sees her performance every weekend: a crimson necktie, and a black cloak staggering on the seat, showcasing his broad shoulders. He doesn’t seem like he belongs here... in this time period. He didn’t seem to fit it in. An eidolon. Like her.

He has been infatuated with her for months, obsessive and crazy about her. His mind has caged her dazzling movements.  She is not Odette, but he always imagined that she is his Odette, his swan princess.  Mailing her letters every morning to her workplace as soon as he opens his eyes and sending her letters to her private home every time the sun goes down without her sister noticing. Hoping one day instead of the hassle of mailing her letters, he would just voice his comments to her. Scared of rejection, for now he loves her from a distance.

He watches her movements attentively on stage. She dances flawlessly, like fragile wings trembling by the wind. Her eyes are closed to focus on the rhyme of the music, lost in its’ chorus. Effortlessly, she moves from one spot to another, her feet touching the ground with her pastel blue slippers, her tuff going up and down from the intensity of her movements. He thought she looked divine, her ballet costume, full of rhinestones making her look like an angel with a halo surrounding her, forgetting about the outstanding scenic design behind the players.

——-

While dancing figuratively on stage, forgetting her sister is around her, she decides to squint her eyes open. She sees a single tear dropping from his exquisitely structured face, trickling down his sharp cheekbones. Her heart skipped a beat, this time not from the rhythm of the music but rather from the emotion portrayed on this young man. She never saw him cry before. Was he crying because of her? She thought to herself. First time being swayed by something else besides the music. Halfway through Act 1, Scene, in the heat of the moment, she trips over her sister.

She was overwhelmed with the interest of the stranger in her art and in her. Overwhelmed with the sadness echoing from his deep sombre eyes matching the main’s theme,“the music of the grief soul” 

She did not realize the pain coming from her sister, tell she heard her scream echoing in her eardrums, and a clashing sound.

“Ouch!”

She looks at her sister’s pained ankle, did not realize she was in pain too, till she left the stranger’s gaze.

She was shocked.

She made a mistake.

She was hurt.

Not bothered by the physical pain but by her perfectionism routine being ruined.

She looks at the crowded audience again, but the seat that her eyes mostly lingered on the past shows was gone..his red velvet seat was now empty. She, however saw his back figure, walking out of the big theatre. She felt that he was the performer and not her, his hands opening the black curtains to exist the theatre.

Her performance moves him softly, makes his heart beat and makes him feel human again, but then when he saw her in pain, he discovered a new emotion he never saw linger on her face. he realized he is like the devil feeding on her pain, but he didn’t mind, His mind is consumed with the thought of her delicate small neck and the rhythm of her heartbeat, on his thick veiny hands. He thought even Mozart would be envious of him.

Despite the distance, she stood out to him. He liked how her eyes changed when they are in pain, her eyebrows furrowed forming a shape similar to a swan’s smallest feather.  He liked that now he has another different vision of you in his head now. 

It will be easier to kidnap her with a tortured ankle, less work and less the fuss, he thought to himself. 

She will be his eventually, in desire and in flesh. He however wasn’t sure if he wanted her for a quick fuck, wanted to kill her, or actually wanted her. He usually obsessive over specific women that he wants to murder, an instinct he calls it, but things were different with how he felt with her, his heart usually skips a beat from the thrill of murdering and seeing blood pouring out of bodies, he thinks it’s like looking at dripping chocolate sauce on a sundae... on a hot summer day.

He never forgot the day, he discovered he actually sexually desires her. After a performance, she was in the changing room. The assistant helping out with the complicated layers of the garment, untangling the ropes of the bodice. He can see her refection on the standing baroque mirror, and that was the first time he saw her completely unveiled. His lustful eyes raking down her body.  Instead of his heart throbbing, this time it was his cock. Unconsciously, His palm was over his bugle, rubbing himself through his trousers, while looking at her slowly getting revealed in front of him like a little present. From then on, he couldn’t fuck any of his victims, every time he tried to, her naked body would flash as a mental image, like an intrusive thought.

——-

The curtains close, ceasing her view of the audience in horror. Despite the warmth coming from her pained ankle, her whole body felt frozen.

“you fucking jealous bitch, you will pay!”, Y/N hears her sister’s voice drifting further away in the distance. The only thing that isn’t drifted is her heart thumbing loudly

She felt chatter behind her, but out of shock she stood still, feeling disconnected from reality. 

Wrapped inside her head with so many questions left to answer, the tabloid already didn’t like her, what will happen now after this? She never realized he was that captivating till she saw a single tear fall from his eye. She thought even Adonis didn’t stand a chance.

Did she move him that much? She felt that she was out of breath, adrenaline bursting into her views, which usually for her, comes from the effect of  Tchaikovsky compositions and not a man’s endearment.

Is it an endearment? 

his eyes portrayed so much agony, or did she misinterpreted that? What was weird is there were no emotional reaction to when he witnessed her mistake waltz.

The Buffy manager wearing a black suit and tie, taps her shoulder, making her snap back to reality

“what was that all about?, we had to end the show early because of your fuckin mistake!...act one!” Jade’s voice burning Y/N’s eardrums

Oh right…her sister.

She looks at the wooden floor on the right side, where her sister was performing she realized she wasn’t there anymore..

She blinks her eyes several time and pinch her wrist to make sure she is not dreaming, still giving her manager her back. Her pacing heart felt like a wrecking ship drowning and her head pounding with tension

“I am talking to you!”  The manager twirls her body around with her brawny hands to face her, while her bulky body overshadows Y/N’s figure and the lights of the Opera house

“where is my sister?” She quietly mutters the words, looking at Jade’s eyes that has a menacing glare.

“Well, where do you think?, she states sarcastically, “ they took her to the hospital after that stunt you pulled”

She felt her body tense up, when did that happen? And also why didn’t they think about her pained ankle too? She thought to herself.

“How’s she?” Her voice is soft, worried about her sister.

There was a small stiff pause

She hears her manager sigh, “Well, we will find out”

She lower her gaze, trying not to get emotional and hoping no tears come out of her eyes.

“I know what you’r thinking”, the manager who usually is expressionless, snarled with a smile

When Y/N’s manager uttered those words, she look at her, to give her a sign to continue what she is getting at. Jade’s sly smile turns into and a smirk, “ but you ain’t going with you’r sister” she leaves her hardened grip that was on Y/N’s shoulder to circle around her physique.

“Your sister has to be treated separately, especially being the “The Pride and Bride of New York City”…you know better than that Y/N”, Jade stated over her shoulder.

Of course, the favourite sibling. Y/N felt her heart ache, She has never been the first choice for anyone. Even their parents before their car accident which sorrowfully took their lives, 5 years ago. They were hardly any childhood photos of Y/N. They always left Y/N with her self-conscious thoughts when Dana criticized her and judged her.  She never got positive affirmations from their parents like when graduated at the top of her class in high school and when she won a swimming competition at a local sports club but they congratulated and threw a party for Dana when she won a small piano competition at school.

Maybe that’s why she didn’t feel bad over her sister’s stay at the hospital, caused by her mistake waltz.

Y/N thinks back to her manager, she knows she was not her favourite but she was never this blunt with her.

Y/N huffs and decides to start walking away from Jade to help stop her pestering inner dialogue, “No worries, I don’t need to be treated anyways, I got it myself”, She, however, suddenly felt a sharp pain, like knives piercing deep scars on her tender skin, but she didn’t want to show her manager that she was throbbing in pain. Trying to hide her whimpering by biting her mouth and slowly going to her room, taking hard steps despite the slippers. She can feel them echoing through the hall.

-

She gets back to her room, finding a letter waiting for her. Surprised she received one, especially after what happened today. 

By the colour, She can tell it was from that person; a ballet slipper pink envelope with a red wax steel stamp. With no name attached to it, but they call themselves “Your Beloved”, which kind of did put her on edge because isn’t that what people address their lover? 

But it did make her heart swell to know she is this person’s first choice. For once.

She smells the envelope like she always does and the scented letter habitually has a soft fragrance of vanilla mix with lavender remains of a flower that once bloomed. It is as if they know that her favourite flowers are lavender and her favourite ice cream flavour is vanilla. She never mentioned that to the press, not that they did care about that. They always interviewed her sister over her.

She opens the yellowed letter that always seemed somehow ancient, precisely with the scripture writing but this time the cursive writing is decorated in blood red, it did not feel like a fountain pen or a quill this time.

She realizes only two sentences are written.

“Don’t worry my beloved, I will protect you….I am coming for you….

“Despite seeing your dashing performances, I get so tired of watching. I want to start doing.”

But there are initials this time.

Signed M.L

Who the fuck is M.L?

taglist: @bloodcoatedeclipse​​ @king-with-no-crovvn​ @9layerdevilfoodcake​

@revengeoftheantichrist @plymptxn-reborn @waltzwiththedevil @wroteclassicaly @angelicmichael @ramona-thorns @anakinsslag​ @ritualmichael​ @sojournmichael  @kitty4860 @deliciousartpoliticsdean @darkladyslytherin​ @wasteland-babe​ @chicaluna2410 @we-did-it-joe  @beautyiswithinchaos  @devilish-hecate @rexellaaa @thatbit5  @d3monslust​  @luciahoneychurch @saamwilsonn​ @codyfernuk​ @melodylangdon @anojaisasleep​ @manmadewhorror​ @wroteclassicaly​ @naughtygranger​​​ @brooklinn13​ @wormycircumstance

(I tagged people who wanted to be tagged or who I thought might be interested to read the fic!) 

Sorry Dana , your character is kinda bitchy lmao😭, wanted to dedicate you somehow!!!🙈

[littledemondani]

5 for the fluff prompt list with michael plz and thank you 💖💖

i know you asked for fluff, but i’m a ✨whore✨ for (1) outpost!michael and i had to add some smut to it.

from this prompt list. feel free to send me more if you’d like!

(last thing, i promise) if you wanna be on my tag list let me know.

//

Michael and Y/N lied in bed together with their limbs tangled up. He held her nude form close to him, brushing his fingers through her damp, h/c hair. He had been gone from the Sanctuary for a while, having gone off to Outpost 2 to settle matters. It was his first night back and he quickly made up for lost time.

Y/N sighed happily, nestling her head in the crook of his neck. “I missed you,” she whispers.

“I missed you, too, love,” he says, nuzzling his cheek against the top of her head. “I promise I won’t leave you behind when I go to Outpost 3. It was torturous not having you around.”

She smiles against his skin, pressing a soft kiss there. “It was pretty torturous for me, too. I had to get myself off while you were gone.”

He giggles, running his hand down her back over the swell of her ass as he does so. “I take it you had a difficult time?”

“No,” she shakes her head. “It’s just not the same. My fingers aren’t yours.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you have me back, then, hm?”

He moves her flat onto her back, and kisses down her body, dipping between her legs. He peppers soft kisses along her inner thighs, and over lips before landing on her clit. He takes his time swirling his tongue around her swollen clit, keeping his crystal eyes on her.

She tosses her head back against the pillow, giggling breathlessly. “You’re addicted to my pussy, aren’t you?”

He nods, wrapping his lips around her clit and sucking gingerly. He pulls back after a moment, flicking his gaze to her cunt. He spreads her lips apart, groaning at the sight before him. “Can you blame me? You taste and feel amazing.”

“I guess not,” she moans, lashes fluttering as Michael teases her entrance with his tongue. “Fuck.”

Michael reaches up to tweak her nipple, rolling and pinching the hardened bud. She arches her back off the mattress, placing her hand on top of his that’s on her breast.

It doesn’t take much effort for her to cum, squirting lightly as Michael’s name rolls off of her tongue repeatedly. He laps up her juices, wiping his mouth with his hand once he’s finished. He crawls up her body, kissing along her jaw before pressing his lips to hers tenderly.

“I love you,” he whispers against her lips. “More than you can ever possibly imagine.”

He opens his mouth to say something else, but stops himself. Y/N sees, quirking a brow up at him. “What was that?” she asks, her tone gentle and comforting. “Were you gonna say something?”

Michael struggles to say the words, his eyes searching hers as if to find the answer that she’s wanting.

She senses his slight unease, shushing him calmly. “It’s okay. You can tell me anything.”

He gives her a soft smile, nodding as he does so. He knows she’s right, and takes a deep breath, feeling his heart beating wildly in his chest.

“Marry me, Y/N.”

//

baby tags: @fckinsupreme @with-dandelions-in-her-hands @codyfernmorelikedaddyfern @lovelylangdonx @sojournmichael @melodylangdon @xavier-plymptons @angelicmichael @instincts-baby

[wroteclassicaly]

If you're still doing kink hour I'd like to see something with Outpost!Michael, if you want. Maybe he's eating the reader out or something. Anything you write will be great though! :-)

Thanks for this! I got a little carried away. ;P

Warnings: Oral sex, swearing, & choking. This gets really dirty, lol.

You feel as if each breath is broken and jagged, dragging sharply across your lungs and up into your throat, punching your lips when it passes through in a violent exhale. Panting. You’re panting like a bitch in heat, everything in hyper focus. The deep enriching oak chair is digging into your thighs, leaving behind its delicately woven patterns like a brand on your flesh, your legs spread and each laid over an arm. Michael Langdon is at your feet.

He’s worshipping you this time, experimenting with your taste and how he can’t seem to get enough now. At first, this was all foreign to him, but when he could smell you and your raw attraction engulfing him like a cloud of smoke, he’d decided then and there to take advantage to learn. You didn’t say no. You grip your lover’s long locks, enjoying the silky spill between your fingers. Michael hums at the praise, his devilish tongue working languid circles into your overly stimulated clit.

Your eyes watch the firelight dance above, causing you to swear that you can see the horns adorning Michael’s head. He gives a particularly strong lick - hot and ticklish, his rings breaking a layer of skin by their violent imprint against your thighs. Working with the chair, this entity has you bare for him to feast on. He can taste your energy, fast heartbeat pounding beneath your sweat-slick breast.

He sucks your clit between expert lips.

“Jesus!” You shout, arching into a bowing whimper, velvet fabric burning your bare ass below.

It’s a scorching pressure laying atop your throat that brings your gaze into focus. Michael’s eyes are black, void of any color, his mouth sopping wet, honey-heated arousal smeared across his five day stubble. His fingers are wrapped around your throat - pressing. He gets close, his breath by your face.

“You know better than to ever say that name around me, don’t you? Or do I have to...” He edges closer, his looming form impossibly strong. “obliterate the religion off your tongue by making you scream?”

“I-“ You can’t speak with that ungodly pressure. Michael smirks, as if he’s aware of your comparison. He ceases a hold.

“You what, Y/N?”

“I won’t say it again, Michael. I swear.”

He disappears below you, taking you down with him.

[vapid-slut]

Perfect Harmony; Ch.1

Warning[s]: Swearing, Michael being a dirty bitch

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: Entering her senior year as a cheerio, the reader is excited to combine both her love of music and her newfound popularity. To Michael, however, this is the perfect opportunity to fuck with his innocent neighbor

A/N: Can we say, I hate this, because I really do. I have no idea what has compelled me to post this dumpster, just know that if you read this, no u didn’t <3 + I did not proofread this so if theres any typos I’m so sorry, I’m running on 4 hrs of sleep and 5 cups of coffee

Music was your life. Your parents often joked that you were singing before you uttered your first word. Unfortunately, there were no music clubs during your past two years of high school. It was only last year that you and the glee club won nationals, hence why you were able to keep funding. School administration was never really fond of the arts, but they would bend over backward to give the sports clubs whatever they needed.

Your biggest dream was to get a scholarship, preferably for music, since you excelled at it. All your life, you watched your father slave away to keep you happy. You just wanted to repay his kindness. Abruptly, your dream, which entailed you winning a grammy, was disrupted by the ringing of your alarm clock. Your arm stretched over to your nightstand, turning the device off, bringing the sound to a halt.

Slowly, you removed the sheets off your body, standing up for a brief stretch before walking to your bathroom. You went about your morning routine much quicker than you typically would. Mostly due to your excitement, this year would be the first that you spent closer to the top of the social food chain. Over the summer, your dad became fast friends with Coach Sylvester. She had come over a few times. And although their relationship was strictly platonic, they both had grown fond of each other. A week before school, she offered you a spot on the cheerios, one you couldn't turn down. Cheerleaders were at the very top of the pyramid. Girls wanted to be them while boys wanted to be with them.

Once you had finished doing the bare necessities your morning required, you hastily made your way to your closet, immediately reaching for one of the three cheerleading uniforms hanging on the rack. You stripped out of your pajamas before slipping into the skimpy skirt, unaware that you had an admirer. Michael had moved next door a few months into your freshman year, was a rather charming boy. He quickly became a hot commodity, no doubt due to how impeccably handsome he was. You were never too fond of him, but even you had to admit that he was a divine sight.

It never truly bothered you that the window into your room was straight across from the one piercing into his. But if you could see the look of satisfaction on his face as he watched you undress, you'd feel very unnerved. The boy had always felt attracted to you. He saw you as a challenge. You were one of the few students in your grade who was still a virgin. Not due to your looks, you frankly didn't have the time to go to parties or hook up with people. Your focus was on your education. And if getting into a great school meant sacrificing your social life, you were content with that.

Once you had finished getting your uniform on and slicking your hair into a neat updo, you gathered your things into your bag and hurried downstairs for breakfast. "Mornin' kiddo!" Your dad said, greeting you with a smile. You muttered a cheerful 'hey' in response, walking towards one of the cabinets full of cereal boxes. "Oh, I forgot to tell you. My car had to get fixed up last night so, I'll have to take yours today." You shrugged as a reply, not caring. "So am I taking the bus today?" Your father shook his head, reaching for a spoon at the same time. "No. That nice boy next door offered to give you a ride today. Isn't that sweet?"

Fuck- you thought to yourself, of course, the universe found some way to screw up your day. You took a long sigh before shifting your eyes to the clock on the wall. "Shit! I'm sorry, dad. I'd love to eat breakfast, but the Glee meeting starts in 20 minutes." Your dad shrugged, not too bothered. "It's fine, go have fun and tell Michael I said hello." You nodded to your old man, and with that, you were up and out the door.

As soon as you stepped foot outside, there he was. Hair perfectly curled, toothpick dangling from his soft lips. You sighed, walking towards the blonde, waiting for him to get out of the way. "Wow, you become a cheerleader, and now you think you're hot shit?" He spat, you gave him a death glare before pushing him lightly to get inside the car. He followed suit, taking his place in the driver's seat. "As much as I find you annoying, your ass does look great in that skirt." You scoffed, rolling your eyes at the boy as he started driving. "Listen up, Pillsbury fuckboy. Though this might seem hard to understand, I don't like you. And I'd rather not spend my senior year arguing with someone as unbearable as you, so can you please leave me alone?!"

The blonde chuckled at your response. Your mouth said one thing while your thoughts said another. "Your wish is my command." He mumbled sarcastically before reaching to turn up the music on the radio to an obscene volume. The rest of the car ride was entirely uneventful, neither of you uttering a word to each other. Ultimately, you had reached the school parking lot. Not many cars were there since it was early, and only a few clubs were meeting today. Before Michael could do anything, you swiftly got out the car, making sure to slam it loudly. "Don't fucking slam the door!" He said, his voice reaching you even though you were still walking, in response you promptly flipped him off. "Fucking bitch." He uttered lowly as you slowly left his field of view.

-----

"Welcome back, New Directions!" Glee's coach, Mr.Shue, said as you embraced your friends. "As you know, this will be our last year together, and a few of our beloved friends have left for college already. Which means we'll be having auditions for some newcomers." As he spoke, he walked over to the whiteboard, grabbing his trusted magic marker. "But there's a twist." You and everyone else in the room watched as he wrote out the words American Idol. "This time, you'll be judging with me."

You would typically be seated next to Tina and Mercedes, but they were both absent for the meeting. Instead, you sat with Santana on your left and Quinn to your right. You had to admit that it felt nice. Usually, you wouldn't ponder on things so benign. But you had spent most of high school getting teased by Michael and the rest of his sought after friends. Not a day went by that slushies weren't thrown in your face, now you could finally walk the halls without fear of humiliation. 

Besides that, you were also really ecstatic to help Mr. Shue with auditions. Glee club was what had brought a group of entirely different people together. So you'd be more than glad to share that with a new ensemble of students before you all went your final ways.

-----

The rest of your day went by quicker than usual. There wasn't much to learn on the first day. Once the clock hit 3:30, You rushed to the auditorium as if your life depended on it. You had to admit that you missed the stage, singing, and dancing with your friends. You made your way the middle of the seating area, taking your place beside Artie.

A majority of the auditions were lackluster. Only a handful stood out. Like that girl Marley and that kid Jake. You were just about ready to leave and go home until something caught your attention. "Michael Langdon?" Your eyes lit up immediately as you heard the name. You watched as the blue-eyed boy made his way to the stage, smug look on his face.

There was no way in hell Michael fucking Langdon, the same boy who referred to glee as "homo explosion," would ever willingly audition. His rendition of "Suit and Tie" was incredible, which only pissed you off more. Not only was he insanely attractive, but he just had to be talented too, fucking men.

You watched as your fellow glee members watched in amusement. It was the girls who seemed most excited.  Eventually, it all became too much, and before the boy could finish entertaining your friends, you stormed off into the parking lot. Far too upset with the blonde to drive home with him, you sent your friend Mike a text asking if he could get you. He lived pretty close to the school, so you knew it would only take a few minutes.

-----

By the time Mike had pulled up to the building, the other glee kids were exiting. You quickly reached for the door of his car, rushing to get to the passenger seat. "You alright?" He asked, worried by how fidgety you were. You nodded. "Yea, I just wanna go home." Mike was always very comforting. The two of you became friends during your freshman year, mostly because of how many classes you shared. You both had a love for music and were smart, so it wasn't long before you two clicked.

Within a few minutes, you had arrived at your house, Mike flashing you a smile. "Thank you for coming to get me. It means a lot." The dark-haired boy shrugged. "It's no biggie, see you tomorrow, cheerio." You rolled your eyes sarcastically. "Whatever, jock-face." And with that, you entered your home.

The house was currently empty. He was taking the night shift at the hospital so, he probably wouldn't come back till late at night. You walked up the stairs to your room, dropping your bag on the floor. After everything that had gone down today, you were exhausted. You quickly took off the scanty cheer uniform and slipped on your much softer penguin pajamas.

You practically threw yourself on the bed, hoping to get some rest, but were promptly distracted by a notification on your phone. The text, from an unknown number nonetheless, read 'look outside your window.' You quickly sat up, confused, and turned your head only for your eyes to be met by Michael Langdon, who just happened to be balls deep inside some random brunette. 

You gave the boy a disgusted look before pulling down your blinds. Never in your life had you been more repulsed. Your mind tried long and hard to block out any memory of what you just witnessed. After around forty-five minutes, you received another text message from non-other than Michael.

'It's a shame you missed my performance."

'Go fuck yourself, Langdon.'

'If you say so ;)'

The rest of the night, you wondered what you had done to be the new subject of Mr. Pillsbury Fuckboys torment. You had spent most of your high school years avoiding him at cost. Suddenly it seemed like you weren't getting rid of him anytime soon. You were just lucky you only had to endure this for a few more months, and then you'd be on your way.

Or so you thought.