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asumofwords · 4 months

Text

Midpoint - Michael Gavey x Reader

Synopsis: The semester break came along quicker than you thought it would, and you decided to stay on campus for the break to get ahead in your studies. What will happen when you go head-to-head with a certain ill-tempered maths student in a war of pettiness?

Warnings: This fic is 18+, readers discretion is advised. Arguing, pettiness, name calling, low blows, tension, degradation, ripped stockings, finger fucking, rough fucking, fucking in public, p in v, creampie, cum eating.

Word Count: 8.7k

Notes: Hello my angels, Happy New Year, heres to all the filth that will continue to come from the cesspool that is my mind. Thank you all for your patience, I have been so excited to write for Michael, and so I hope you enjoy this as much as I have writing it !! heheh ;) <3

Part 2

There was a soft amber glow that cast over the library, the dark wood warming with the golden light that peaked through the windows, patches of wooden floors illuminated in some spots with coloured lights from stained glass windows.

For the most part, the library was empty bar three other students who had stayed behind for the break, getting ahead on their work for the next semester.

You were one of them, and with the sheer size of the library, you wouldn’t have known there were others inside if you had not seen them when walking down the endless isles of books in search for the ‘British Working Class Movements’ for your history course.

It didn’t take long for you to find it, and by the time you settled into a secluded corner down the back, the sun had already begun to set. You flicked on one of the green and gold table lamps and began to read, periodically taking notes on a page as you went.

It wasn’t that you needed to study ahead, it simply gave you something to do whilst the break droned on, few students having stayed behind making it lonely, but a bit more bearable than making the long trip home.

You loved the library, the stained wood, smell of old books lining the walls, and the quiet of the place was a nice haven to get away from the usual hustle and bustle of college. Everyone always seemed to be in a rush to either their next class or their next party, and although you weren’t a loner per se, you didn’t always feel like being in the constant lights and sounds that came with socialising. And so the library was the one place, besides your dorm, where you could have a nice piece of solitude.

Settling over the page, you gained a steady rhythm. Read about one movement, then write anecdotes as you went, taking the time to pause, re-read, and really absorb the information as much as you could. It was fascinating, and you enjoyed learning as much as you did.

By the third hour of continuous reading and note taking, your hand began to cramp, and so you decided it was time for a short break. You stood up from the desk, stretching your arms above your head, a small sigh escaping your lips as your back cracked and muscles pulled. You twisted your upper body to each side, softly grunting as you felt your back click again and again, sighing loudly as a particular pop took away an ache that had settled between your shoulders. You continued on with your languid stretches, trying to get some of the stiffness out of your body from being hunched over the desk for so long.

You wondered how much more time you should spend writing notes, or whether you could go back to your dorm and laze about on the bed. Luckily for you, you didn’t have a roommate, and were able to make the space feel much like your own. You didn’t have too much furniture, the room not allowing for it, just your essentials and a few trinkets here and there that you had collected. Your real pride and joy however, was a Peace Lily that you had saved from sure death. Now, it sat proudly on your study desk, growing dark green leaves and flowering its soft white flowers.

The idea of going back to your dorm seemed tempting, after all, you didn’t really have to be studying, and you had just recently bought the new Harry Potter book and wished to read some more of it, make a nice cup of tea, sink into your sheets and get lost into a fantasy world.

A soft jangling came from between one of the large book shelves, and soon a man peeked through. His icy blue eyes caught yours and you watched as he assessed you from where he stood, albeit awkwardly, gaze dragging up and down your body.

He was tall and lean, with sandy blonde hair that sat messily atop his head. He had a sharp aquiline nose, and lips that pulled up naturally in its corners.

You recognised him from somewhere, but where you couldn't be sure.

Perhaps he was in the same classes as you?

He continued to stare at you, shirt tucked into his pants, small carabiner attached with a USB dangling from a belt loop, his tongue pushed into his cheek.

“You right?” You asked, shifting on your feet, wondering if he needed something from you.

His lips pursed as he looked at you from down his nose, “Are you?”

You furrowed your brows, “Huh?”

“You've been moaning in the back of the library like a tart.”

You bristled, “I beg your pardon?”

Who the fuck-

“Some of us are trying to study.” His arms were stiff by his sides, and before you had the chance to reply, he spun on his heel, shoes squeaking loudly in the aisles as he marched away.

“What the fuck?” You whispered to yourself, feeling angry and also slightly embarrassed about the encounter.

Had you been making a lot of noise?

You didn’t think so, especially since the library was essentially empty anyway. You had even chosen the furthest corner of the floor as well, tucked away behind rows of books and out of sight.

You sat back down at the desk and tried to continue writing notes, but instead, you found yourself feeling far too self conscious, and wondered if you were even breathing too loudly. But before you got too self critical, you remembered that the library was practically empty, and you had specifically chosen a spot the furthest away from the other three students.

If your stretching and little sighs had disturbed him, he was either hanging around your area, or had the hearing of a bat.

So after about an hours more of study attempts and a half a page more of notes, you decided to call it a night, packing away your belongings before taking the book with you, not bothering to check it out.

As soon as you got back to your dorm, you headed straight to bed, not feeling in the mood to make a cup of tea or even open your new book, no longer looking forward to enjoying yourself and settling in. Instead you laid on your back staring at the ceiling, stewing about how the man in the library had spoken to you, and vowing that if you saw him again, you'd give him a piece of your mind.

And by your luck, you did see him again.

The very next day.

You got to the library around midday, deciding that you weren’t going to do a late night of studying, deciding to have a relaxing night in to pamper yourself, maybe even watch a movie in the common rooms if the tv free, or do as you had intended the night before; a cup of tea and your book, and maybe even some ‘me’ time.

The library, despite all its windows and the suns rays peeping through, was cold, and as soon as you stepped foot into it a chill ran over you. You walked through the endless rows of books, not seeing a soul as you climbed the stairs to the second floor, dust settled into the crooks and corners of the staircases and bannisters, the smell almost overwhelming, until finally, you saw him.

He was sat in the centre of the room at one of the large study desks, multiple books opened around him as he furiously wrote down notes and equations. His head didn’t lift at the sound of your footsteps, too busy in his own little world studying for God knows what, so much so, that it was a wonder that you had even managed to disturb him the day prior, which now only seemed to fuel your anger.

You were never one to back down.

You walked straight to him, toes almost kicking the leg of the table as you looked down at his neat writing, his hand flying across the page in rapid succession, no calculator in sight despite the lengthiness of the equations.

It was impressive, you noted begrudgingly, the way he worked so swiftly, and just was you were about to gain his attention, he spoke to you, hand not once slowing as he worked.

“What do you want?”

It wasn’t rude, just as it wasn’t polite. If anything, it was abrasive, like the rough cobblestones outside, and not once did he look up at you.

It caught you off guard.

Your mouth opened and shut as you tried to think of something to say.

Was it really worth being hot headed and saying something the day after?

Would he even remember?

Or would you be embarrassing yourself further?

Ultimately you gave up, deciding that there was no point to saying anything anymore, sighing in resignation as you walked around the length of the table continuing to yours.

You got about three steps away before he spoke again.

“Remember that you’re in the library this time.”

You spun, staring daggers into the back of his head, hand gripping the strap of your bag, “What the fuck is your problem?” Your chest heaved in anger, waiting for him to turn around or answer you, but he didn’t.

The sandy haired man continued his endless equations, leaving you standing behind him as though you had spoken to a ghost. It was maddening, the rush of your blood loud in your ears drowning out the steady scratch of his pencil.

How dare he?

He was just like all the others, like every other man on campus who felt they could speak however they like at any woman as though you were beneath them.

You stood there for what felt like minutes, but was mere seconds.

Realising that you weren’t to get an answer from him, you continued on your way to your secluded little table, stomping through the aisles, your footsteps echoing loudly in the space on the wooden floor.

When you got to the table, you all but threw your bag down, the heavy textbook slamming onto the wooden surface, making a large bang.

Never in your life had you been so agitated, ripping the chair away from the desk, letting the legs scrape on the mahogany floor.

One after the other, you yanked your books out of your bag, your notebook and pens, throwing them onto the table without a care. You could feel the heat of your anger creeping up your neck and into your face, and despite your attempts to calm yourself by studying, you ended up just re-reading the same paragraph over and over again, not once absorbing it.

By the time you decided to give up, the sun had begun to set, and so you hastily scrambled to shove your things back into your bag, not even bothering to tuck your chair in softly, throwing it against the desk and storming out the way you came.

He was still in his regular spot when you stalked past him, his head turned down as he read through his notes, multiple empty chocolate wrappersw spread across the table.

“Fucking asshole.” You muttered as you walked past him, not bothering to spare him a second glance as you huffed and stormed away, hoping to find some peace in your dorm.

When you got to your dorm, you were so hungry that you began to feel sick. Realising that in your anger you had forgotten to eat, you wandered down to the pub not far from campus and got a cheap little meal, eating quietly in the corner, a telly playing a soccer game on the screen in the back.

There weren't many patrons that night, but you could hear the pool table being used in the distance, the loud clacking of the balls being sunk, drowning out the soft sound of the telly. The pub stunk of stale beer and cigarettes, ring stains on all the wooden surfaces from sweating glasses.

It was still early when you finished, and so you made the decision to check out the commons and see if a tv was free.

The night air was cold as you walked back to your dorm, your teeth chattering in your skull as you sped walked, wrapping your arms around yourself to get back into the warmth of the old building. Lights illuminated the old stone walls in a yellow light, casting shadows on the cobblestones and bare trees around you.

It would have been spooky if you weren’t used to it by now, and could understand how first years would become spooked at night alone, walking through the courtyards.

As you made your way towards the common room in your building, you couldn’t help but think about the man in the library. His sandy hair, blue eyes, sharp features and sharper mouth. Who needed a heater when you had this man to fire you up? You could almost hear his grating tone as he mocked you, his glasses shining in the library as he looked down his nose at you.

He made you feel small, unwanted. But you had worked hard to get into Oxford, and you, whether he liked it or not, had earned your place.

It wasn’t unlike the men you already knew in STEM to be somewhat assholes, especially towards women or any degrees they deemed ‘unfit’ or ‘unworthy’. You had heard many scoffs and sneers at the Arts students, or English Literature kids, especially if it was women, from the STEM boys who seemed to hoard together like a bunch of flies. Or better yet, like a Rat King, unable to break the connection between each other despite how much they fought it.

It was, to follow the pun, a rat race.

The hall was dark as you walked to the commons, but from the window of the door, you saw the tale tell sign of the telly being on. You wondered momentarily if it was anyone you knew that had stayed back, perhaps one of the girls.

Maybe you could settle down with them and watch whatever mind melting soap opera was on, and lull yourself into a stupor.

The prospect of talking to someone almost dissolved your sour mood, and by the time you opened the door, peering into the flickering light illuminated room, a small smile had begun to pull at your lips.

But that smile was short lived as your eyes met a pair of pale blue ones.

You watched as his lips pulled down in recognition of you, his head turning to look back at the telly. Your heart began to race in your chest again, the door clicking shut behind you, the soft sound of Doctor Who’s theme song filling the room, the screen reflecting off of his rectangular lenses.

It didn’t help that the small drinks you had at the pub seemed to ignite your previous disdain for the man, as well as dampening your, for a lack of a better word, cognition.

In that moment, you were at a loss of what to do. You wanted to watch tv, but the idea of being anywhere near him infuriated you. Yet, at the same time, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction by leaving, indicating to him that you had given up, and that he had won.

“You going to stand there all night?” He teased cruelly, eyes not once turning back to you, locked on David Tenant as he ran through an abandoned warehouse.

You bristled, teeth grinding down against each other as you stormed past him, “Fuck you.” You dropped down onto the cushion on the other end of the couch.

From the corner of your eye, you could see his lips purse slightly, obviously hearing you.

No matter how much you tried, you could not get comfortable on the couch, and it wasn’t because the couch had a natural groove from the many people who sat in it, or the obvious stains on the covers and arms, some recognisable, others dubious, nor the permeating cigarette smell that emanated from deep within the foam, but rather because he sat all too comfortable beside you, watching a show you wished you could watch alone.

You shifted against the arm again for the umpteenth, huffing softly in the room. Your ass had fallen asleep because you sat ramrod straight and refused to relax, tucking your legs beneath you not leaning back. No matter what you did, you could not settle, body gearing up for a fight.

When you shifted again, it seemed to pull his attention away from David Tenants doctor.

“You gonna keep huffing in the corner like a baby?”

Your already fragile thread of patience snapped.

“What the fuck is your problem? Have I done something to you? I don’t even know who you are.”

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say to him. The man sneered, leaning towards you on the couch, “My problem is vapid little cunts like you. Getting by on mummy and daddy’s money whilst the rest of us have to work to stay here. You just party and fuck each other like rats.” His cold eyes razed up and down your body, watching as your face morphed from anger to offence, and then, to rage.

You shot up from your seat, moving to stand over him as he looked up at you, face barely containing his hatred.

“I don’t have ‘mummy’s and daddy’s money’, I’m here because I worked hard to be here.” You hissed, hands clenched into fists at your sides, “You know nothing about me.”

“I know you’re friends with Felix Catton and every other vapid, useless cunt that hangs off of his every breath.” His voice lowered, hatred simmering behind his light illuminated glasses.

Your brows furrowed, “Felix and I have a class together. Assigned seating. We walk there together. If-” You straightened, looking down at him before it hit you.

A laugh of disbelief flew from your lips, and soon enough the cocksure anger melted away from his sharp features, replaced by confusion.

“Wow.” You huffed, a bitter laugh filling the air, “You’re jealous.” His eyes narrowed on you, “You’re jealous of Felix.” You watched as his mouth snapped open, “Maybe if you weren’t so-“

“-I’m not fucking jealous of those nobodies.”

Snorting, you shook your head, “Nobodies… Yet people know their name. I don’t even know who you are.”

You waited for him to give you his name, to finally tell you who this infuriating man was, the credits of Doctor Who playing in the background as you stared at each other. Your chest heaved, but all you felt looking down at him was irritation.

“Your anger is misdirected." You growled, "I thought you would be smarter than that.”

The man's jaw ticked, “I thought you didn’t know who I was.”

“I don’t.”

You turned away, suddenly drained from the whole interaction. You didn’t bother to turn back and look at him, or even say another word. You wanted to go to bed, no, needed to go to bed and get away from the man on the couch before you tore your hair out.

As you opened the common room door, his voice called out to you.

“Y/n L/n.”

The way he said your name sent goosebumps rising on your skin, each syllable pronounced slowly, as though he was savouring your name on the tip of his tongue. Your hand paused on the door as you pushed it open, looking back at him.

“And who are you?”

Before he could answer, you left, slamming the door shut behind you. You marched straight back to your room, hands in such tight fists that your nails left half crescent moons in the flesh of your palms.

You lay awake most of the evening staring at the ceiling with the interaction on your mind.

He knew you by name, even thought you were friends with Felix, and whilst you weren’t not friendly with him, you wouldn’t say you were closely acquainted. You drank at the same parties sometimes or saw him down at the pub, but the only one-on-one time you had with him was in class.

Whoever this man was, and whoever he thought you were, he was wrong. And now he was going to regret it.

You knew he would be there, in fact you betted on it, getting up extra early to go to the library to do the one thing you planned on doing that day.

Piss him off.

If there was one thing that men hate the most in the world, it was not being in control, and that was doubled if it was with a woman.

You sat at the table he always did, spreading your textbooks and papers, pens, notes, snacks, water bottle, and even IPod Nano on its surface. You had brought extra things with you today in your bag to spread across the table, some things not even needed to study, but used to take up more space and soil his little territory.

The sun had barely even risen by the time you laid it all out, but you knew it would all be worth it.

And it was, because not even fifteen minutes later, he arrived to the sight of you at his desk, humming as you looked at your notes.

His feet stopped not too far from your (his) table, watching as you met his gaze, devoid of emotion. You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling, watching as he clenched his teeth in irritation.

He was almost shaking with anger.

Got you.

You kept the image of innocence, looking back down at your notes as you tapped your pen against the tables surface loudly. You could see his fists clenching in your periphery at his side, his pale green button up shirt with long beige pants shifting side to side as he stood angrily watching you.

“What are you doing?” The blonde’s voice cut through the quiet of the library, irritation evident in his tone.

You didn’t bother to look up, pen still clicking rhythmically against the table, “Hm?”

“You think you’re clever, don’t you?”

Placing the pen on your page delicately, you looked up, “Pardon?”

The mans cheeks flushed an angry red as he stared down at you, lips pulling into a tight line, “Whatever you think-“

“-I’m sorry,” You interrupted him, leaning forward to look up into his eyes sweetly, “Do I know you?”

The man leant forward and sneered, “Gavey.”

“Gavey?” You titled your head, biting your lip softly in thought.

Why did that name sound so familiar?

“Yes.” He grit through his teeth, looking down at your spread notes and gear.

Then it came to you.

“Gavey! Michael Gavey!” You beamed up at him, leaning slightly forward on the desk.

Now you knew why he was so familiar.

“You’re the maths genius.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. Anyone who had heard about Michael Gavey knew about his stellar intellect when it came to maths, and unfortunately for him, they also knew about his little antisocial outbursts, “You yelled at Oliver on O week.”

You watched with delight as the anger fell momentarily from his face, and embarrassment replaced it. You leant further forward, putting both elbows on the table as you rested your chin on your hands, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Is it true then? You can do any sum just in your head?”

If it was true, he needed to be studied by a team of scientists.

And maybe a behavioural therapist.

Michael stood taller, proud to have been recognised for this part of him as he watched you bat your eyelashes at him. His shoulders rolled back, eyes glimmering with determination behind his glasses.

Men were so easy.

You just stroke their ego a little and their guard comes down immediately.

“Ask me.” His voice was soft, confident, waiting on bated breath to show off his born skill.

You smiled, “Alright. Seven-hundred-and-eighty-nine multiplied by six-hundred-and-fifty-four.”

Without missing a beat, “Five-hundred-and-sixteen-thousand-and-six.”

“Divided by twelve.”

“Forty-three-thousand point five.”

“Times nine.”

“Three-hundred-and-eighty-seven-thousand-and-four point five.”

You leant back in your chair watching him. It was impressive, and if he wasn’t such a prick, you would have openly praised him. But you didn’t have it in you in that moment to give him anything but a lengthy stare, using the time to get a good look at his face without the sneer.

He was handsome, a long face framed nicely by his ‘devil may care’ hair. You wondered if he even bothered to brush it in the morning. The longer you looked at him the more you could see how his sharp features and soft lips would in fact get him the attention he so desperately craved, if only he wasn’t as insufferable as he was. In fact, the more you thought about it, if things had been different, perhaps you would have pursued him, maybe even asked him out for a drink.

Instead, he had made an enemy for himself, and being petty at this point was a hobby for you that you took great time and pleasure in doing, especially if it was for assholes who made the first move unwarranted.

“Hm.” You tapped your pen against the table, “How do I know it’s correct and you're not just making it up?”

This seemed to anger Gavey.

“I’m not making it up. I do the sums,” He narrowed his eyes, “In my head.”

“I don’t have a calculator to confirm this. For all I know, you could be lying.”

The anger was back, “I’m not lying. I’m never wrong.”

“Sure.”

“I’m a genius.”

“Uh huh.”

Then came the vitriol, his shoulders tensed in rage, “What would you know anything about maths? You’re a History and Philosophy major.” Michael scoffed, seeming to think that his disdain for your degree would upset you in the slightest.

You sighed loudly, pulling the earphones from your Ipod to begin putting them in your ears. You looked at him pointedly, putting a sad little smile onto your lips.

Show time.

“It’s a shame, you know.” You said sadly.

“What?” Michael responded, over-eagerly.

The earphones sat in your ears and you scrolled down to a song you wanted, letting the music begin to play loudly just to piss him off, the noise turned up high enough for him to hear the lyrics. You didn't show it, but it was too loud, and most certainly hurt your ears, yet it was worth it to see his nose scrunch up.

“That you’re a snob.” Your voice rose over the music in your ears, unable to hear anything but the loud bass line that bounced in your head, “You’re actually cute when you’re not sneering at me.” You let your eyes drop back to your page, ignoring his presence as you strummed the pen loudly against the wood of the desk, unable to hear if he responded, but also not bothered to hear him. You had ended the conversation just the way you wanted.

And it would drive him nuts.

What you hadn’t seen was his mouth opening and shutting multiple times as a blush spread across his cheeks. He stood idly by, utterly unable to produce a single word or sound bar clearing his throat. Michael disappeared from your periphery as he left to sit at the table at the end, dropping into his seat to begin his studies.

But it proved to be fruitless, because as he attempted to settle into the endless stream of equations, all he could hear behind him was the tinny sound of your music blasting from your earphones and the steady grating tap of your pen.

He tried, in vein, for over an hour to focus, before giving up and storming out of the library. It was only then when you lifted your head, smiling at his retreating figure in triumph.

I win.

Not a word had been written on your page, and not a thing had been absorbed in your head. You lowered the volume of your music, a ringing settling into your ears, before packing up your things to go back to your dorm, deciding that a job well done was deserving of some respite, and in your good mood you would actually read your book.

You spent the rest of your day and better part of your evening reading, lounging, and snacking on some chips as you snuggled into your sheets.

Being the creature of habit that you were, you ended your triumphant day going to the pub to have another cheap meal and a drink or two, spending a considerable amount of the evening chatting up another student who had also stayed behind during the break.

He was cute, and funny, and although he hinted more than once that he would like to continue your evening back in either one of your dorms, you didn’t have the energy to entertain a potentially dull night of barely there pleasure.

He smiled too wide and had too much confidence to really know what he was doing, and you felt immediately that he would be the type to get his and leave you high and dry. So you parted, promising emptily to get another pint together soon enough, though you knew it wasn’t your stellar verbal company that he wanted.

Sinking into bed that evening was an easy and pleasurable experience. You crawled into your sheets, smile on your face and victory on your tongue. Your tit-for-tat was successful, and now you could finally just focus on your work, and not the sandy haired Michael Gavey who seemed to invade your every thought.

The sun trickled through the curtains by your bed, a warm stream of light hitting your face. You woke with a stretch, body slowly waking up with the day.

You didn’t have much planned after yesterdays success, and didn’t have a want to do much at all, but there was only so much lounging in bed one could do over the many weeks of break, so you decided to go back to the library, at least for an hour to make up for yesterdays losses (despite the personal win).

You looked around your room and settled on a skirt and some tights with a turtle neck sweater, unable to find anything else as a pile of dirty clothes had slowly accumulated in the corner. You made a note to yourself to take it to the laundromat later with some coins and your book.

The walk to the library was the same monotonous one as it always was. The same stone walls, the same dark wooden detailing and floor, the occasional beautiful stained glass window, and the ever strange silence of an empty college. There was a light layer of frost on the grass outside, and you wouldn’t be surprised if it would snow. The trees were bare except for a handful of orange and brown leaves, hanging on for dear life, or perhaps, holding on with dead fingers.

Rigor mortus of the petiole.

The steps creaked beneath your feet as you made your way up to your usual spot, the library cold as it always was, causing you to wish you had brought a warmer jacket with you. When you got to the landing, you expected to see him, sandy hair, glasses slipping down his sharp nose, hunched over the same textbook as he wrote out his equations with dizzying speed, but the tables were empty, and the aisles were barren, and all that was in the library was you.

Briefly you wondered for a moment if something has happened to him. Had he gotten sick? Too ill to crawl out of bed, laying in his sheets with a fever and no one to comfort him?

You frowned at the thought.

Why did you care?

His ego was likely too bruised to show his face, and was hidden in another alcove or other smaller library somewhere else, or perhaps even in his room.

Maybe he even had friends, and decided to spend the day with them, likely another student in STEM.

You could have sworn you saw him and Oliver Quick in the pub one night together.

You walked past his empty table and continued down the end to where your little nook was, grazing your fingers along the spines of the books as you went. Each ridge another spine, each spine another thousand upon thousand of words that had been read, dissected, and rewritten by many a student. You liked to think about how many hands had touched the pages, how many eyes had skimmed the words, how many bags, beds, tables, couches, cars or trains they had been in over the years, and how many times you had read them, or held them in the same spot.

You emerged from the isles to your nook.

It was not what you had expected that morning.

Certainly not what you had expected any morning come to think of it, but even so, your steps halted and your heart began to quicken, anger slowing creeping up your neck, heating your face.

He was sat at your table.

Your table.

His glasses had slid down almost to the tip of his nose, a long slender finger daintily pushing them back up to the bridge, lips pouted in their natural pout as his hand flew about his notes, writing equation after equation in a speed that would intimidate even Einstein. Michaels hair was disheveled, as though he had run his hand through it multiple times, as he contemplated the pros and cons of sitting there.

He must have landed on the pros.

“What are you doing.” You bit out, an irritating sense of dejavu seeping into your bones.

Michael didn’t look up at you, your feet almost pushing through the floor, anger rooting you in place.

“Hm?” Came his noncommittal reply.

It set you off.

“You’re in my seat.” You hissed, swiftly stepping towards him.

The light from the window beside him cast shadows across half his face as he looked up at you, he sucked his teeth loudly, “Your seat?”

“Yes.”

“I see.” His head dipped back down to his notes, his blue eyes looking up at you from under his lashes as his hand continued to write, “This is a public library. It’s a public seat.”

You stormed forward dumping your bag atop his hand, his pencil scraping across his notes on the paper, “You know exactly what I mean.”

His jaw ticked, steely blue eyes flicking to where you dumped your heavy bag atop his notes and own text book.

“I’m sorry, I’m not tutoring on break.” His tone all too demeaning as he over pronounced each word.

Your hands slammed down onto the desk as you leant forward towards his face, “I don’t need a tutor and you know it, you miserable little cunt.” Anger boiled inside of you, building and building, ready to burst.

Michael bristled, “Who the f-“

“-Oh, fuck you, Michael. You’re a miserable piece of shit, thinking you’re above everybody else, sneering at anyone who dares to be happy. I’ve seen you, always sulking about in the shadows because no one can stand to be around you.”

The silence was almost deafening.

Oh God.

That was a low blow.

You had taken it too far.

You swallowed thickly, suddenly feeling very guilty, “Michael,” You started, “That was-“

A pale hand lifted in front of your face, the man standing almost near silently in front of you. He went from below you, to towering above in a split second, his sheer size double your own. He stared down his sharp nose at you with a look of contempt, the rage behind his eyes flickering with barely held restraint.

“Do you want to know what I think?” His voice was low, lower than you had ever heard it go, emotion almost drained entirely from it except an icy edge which sent the hairs on the back of your neck on end.

You stayed silent, watching as he stepped away from the desk, chair scraping on the wood to come towards you slowly, your heart beating like a drum behind your ribs.

Though you could step back, his eyes kept you glued to where you were, head craned up to look at him as he came closer, the tension in his jaw growing with every passing second.

It was unnerving, and everything within told you to run, but something made you stay.

Call it guilt.

Or intrigue.

His hand dropped to his side, slow, calculated steps coming closer, each one as silent as the next as his cheek twitched whilst looking you over.

“I think,” He began, a foot away from you, voice low, “That you’re just desperate enough to accept the scraps that they give you, because you fear if you don’t,” Another step, taking him toe-to-toe with you, “That you’ll be a nobody like me.”

Your mouth became dry, lips slightly parted as a tinge of hurt spread through your chest.

You shook your head faintly, “I don’t think you’re a nobody.”

A brow lifted, “You called me a nobody.”

“I was wrong.”

“Wrong because it was hurtful? Or wrong because you have more in common with me than you do with them.”

You shook your head, “Why is it always about them?”

“It is always,” He sneered, “About them. I have watched you take what little you can get from them like a beggar. Talking to Felix in the hallways, doing his homework for him, smiling at him like a dolt.”

Your eyes widened in surprise.

“I’ve seen you.” His shoe bumped against yours as he leant forward, “You’re nothing to them. How long was it before they even learnt your name?”

“Stop it.” You whispered, feeling tears prickle in your eyes.

Michaels head tilted, “Why? It’s the truth.”

“It’s not.”

The sandy haired man clicked his tongue at you, head tilting, “You and I both know that’s not the truth, is it? What did Farleigh call you again?”

A lone tear fell down your cheek, leaving a wet track in its path. Your lip wobbled as you tried to keep your composure.

You didn’t know how he knew.

You didn’t know how he could have known what Farleigh had said to you that night, drinking in the pub together.

You hadn’t even meant to join them, but their table grew bigger and bigger until it swallowed your own and soon enough they were buying you shots. It was never a regular thing, you were never quite in the circle, but not quite out of it either. More-so lingering in the nothingness of neither here nor there.

Michael looked at you pityingly, not in a way where he held empathy for you because of it, but in a way where he pitied you for being the way you were. It was demeaning. Cold.

Detached.

“Parvenu.” His lips pronounced each syllable slowly, darkly, and it made you ache.

Another tear fell as you took a sharp intake of breath, sniffling roughly.

Shame built inside of you.

It was humiliating to relive that moment, let alone with Michael. And now that you knew he had witnessed or heard it, you wondered who else may have been there to hear Farleigh’s degrading comment and snort of a laugh followed. The way he would raise his brows at you the rest of the night as if to say ‘See? You don’t belong here, and we can all see it’, ‘We let you here because we can’.

“I don’t understand-“

Michael interrupted you, "-You let them walk all over you, and for what? Parties and accolades?” The corners of his lips turned downwards, “They don’t even respect you. Do they know that you’ve stayed behind on break alone? Do you think they’ll think of you in their mansions? Do you think Felix would ever-“

“-You talk about them as if they’re irredeemable, but they’ve been far nicer to me than you have.” Another tear fell, and your stomach tied itself in knots.

The anger seemed to simmer in his eyes, “They don’t deserve you.”

Your brows pulled down in confusion, “What?”

“You let them use you, chasing after their fleeting affections. It’s pathetic.”

Anger began to simmer inside of you, “Pathetic? You know what’s pathetic?” You leaned up on your toes, “The fact that you have so clearly been watching me, and everything that I do, and not once have you tried to be my friend. Do you know what’s pathetic?” Your voice began to rise, heat inside of you rising with it, “Your anger and hatred of them clearly stems from jealously and embarrassment because they would never talk to-“

Your eyes widened in shock, his lips crashing against yours as he yanked you forward, hand at the back of your head pulling you in tightly. You were so in shock, you didn’t know what to do, standing stiffly in his arms as the other circled your waist and pulled you against him.

It only took a second for your brain to come to with what was happening, your eyes sliding shut as you kissed him back roughly, all teeth and vitriol as you bit the soft flesh of his lips roughly. He hissed, pulling you closer, your feet stumbling against his as he backed you towards the wall of books beside the desk.

Your spine hit the shelf roughly as he shoved you back, both of you panting before you grabbed his shirt angrily, yanking him back towards you. You were so furious, so almost feral that you needed this more than you would have thought.

There was something about him, something about him that made you want to pull your hair out and also sit on his face to silence him.

His kisses weren’t skilled, but they were filled with passion as his teeth clashed against yours, a fight for dominance ensuing as you let a hand slide up into his hair and pull. A grunt came from deep within his chest as you yanked at the roots cruelly, hoping it would hurt him. Heat built in your gut rapidly, the need for him growing stronger with each passing second.

The hand on your waist slid down further, pulling up your skirt as his fingers pressed against your clothed core. You gasped into his mouth, hips thrusting forward from the pressure. With the other hand disappearing from the back of your head, it met the other between your legs, hooking into the gusset of your tights before you heard a loud rip, cold air immediately hitting your core.

You gasped loudly, Michael taking advantage as he slid his tongue into your mouth, flicking it upwards against the back of your teeth. He tasted faintly like chocolate, and it was a taste that you didn’t mind at all. His fingers immediately sought out your centre, sliding impatiently between your folds to gather the wetness from your entrance.

His movements were sloppy, yet focused, drawing it up to your clit as he rubbed fierce circles into it that bordered on painful. You nipped his bottom lip harshly again, yanking his head back and away from you to look at his face as two long digits circled your entrance.

The pupils of his eyes were enlarged, almost swallowing the blue of his iris whole. His cheeks were flushed a dusty pink, and lips a deep red after your bites. The glasses upon his face were slightly skewed and lightly fogged, the hair atop his head sticking up in different directions from your rough handling. You didn’t even get to observe him for longer before he roughly shoved the two fingers inside.

“Fuck.” You hissed, back arching towards him, shoulders roughly pushing into the bookshelf.

A mean smirk pulled on his lips as he crooked his fingers against the front of your walls, quickly thrusting his hand in and out with dizzying speed. Your breath caught in your throat, brows pulled down as you looked at him, low whine falling from your lips.

“So wet already.” Michael teased, thumb lightly brushing your pearl, a spark of intense pleasure shooting up you.

You pulled his head back towards you, moaning into his mouth as he continued to fuck you with his fingers, the sound of your arousal loud in the both of your ears. Michael pulled up one of your legs, hooking it around his hip, the cold metal of his carabiner pressing sharply into your inner thigh. Pleasure began to wind tightly in your gut, his long fingers reaching parts of you, your own couldn’t.

Panting against his mouth, your hand flew behind you to grip one of the wooden shelves, elbow bumping against the spines of the books.

His pace never once faltered, all those hours of quick equations all day boosting his hand strength and stamina. You were surprised that he even knew what he was doing, but the questions floated aimlessly in the back of your mind, not quite sticking.

Your nails dug into the wood of the shelf, hand falling from his hair to his shoulder as your head fell backwards against the shelf, your peak barreling towards you.

“S’close. Please.” You whined, rolling your hips into his hand.

A mean laugh broke your peace, his fingers pulling out of you sharply, preventing you from reaching your release. Your eyes flew open, brows furrowed in frustration as you looked at him, smug smirk on his lips as he brought his fingers up to his mouth, sucking on the arousal soaked digits.

You moaned weakly looking at him as he did it, hips rolling towards him in an attempt to get him to touch you again. Michael lips pouted at you as he pulled his fingers from his mouth with a wet pop.

“Touch me.” You breathed, pulling him towards you with your leg, the zipper of his cargo pants pressing against you sharply. You sighed, rubbing your centre against his pants, a wet patch no doubt beginning to stain the front of them.

“So desperate.” He cooed at you, your core clenching at his words as your eyes fluttered.

The hand that had been inside of you quickly made its way to the front of his pants, the other joining as he hastily undid his belt, not pulling it through the loops, followed by his button and zipper. Michael hastily reached into his pants and pulled out his hardened length, the tip pink and weeping, veins crawling up the sides.

You swallowed thickly as you looked down.

Oh shit.

Michael was very well endowed.

You didn’t know what shocked you more, the fact that he had such a sizeable cock, or how he thrust it up into you without warning. The stretch was bordering painful and you cried out loudly, Michaels hand slapping across your mouth to stifle the sound.

“Quiet.” He hissed, pushing in to the hilt, the tip of his cock brushing against your cervix. Your eyes screwed shut as you whined into his palm, your walls struggling to accommodate him as he slowly pulled out, each vein and ridge catching on your inner walls deliciously.

The slow heat inside of you began to build once more.

Michael thrust into you sharply, your head banging against the back of the shelves as he kept his hand against your mouth, the other holding your hip against him. He set a brutal pace, fucking into your slick walls without abandon as he chased his own pleasure, punching the air out of your chest.

“Fuck.” He hissed, forehead pressing against your own as he looked down to where you were joined, the leg you stood on stretched on your tippy toe to meet his height as he fucked you, “Your cunt is fucking tight.”

“Mmm.” You moaned, eyes slipping shut as the coil within your gut began to wind rapidly, each brutal thrust stretching you wide against him with painful pleasure.

“You gonna cum?” He panted, his eyes shutting behind his glasses that slid down his nose, “Can feel you squeezing my cock. Fuck.”

You nodded desperately beneath his hand, eyes opening to meet his steely gaze as he pulled his head back to watch you, the book shelf creaking as he fucked you against it.

You were so close, so fucking close.

“Go on.” He commanded, “Cum on my cock like a little slut.”

Your core clenched around him, blinding white pleasure coursing through you as you came, his hand falling from your mouth as you moaned loudly, the noise echoing in the library.

“Shit, fuck. I’m gonna-“ Michael’s thrusts stuttered as a long moan burst from his lips, the warmth of his cum filling you.

You whined, hands gripping his hair as you crashed your lips against his, kissing him lazily as you both panted, his cock throbbing inside of you as your walls squeezed every last drop from him.

Michael pushed as deep as he could go, the warmth of his cum beginning to leak around the base and down your thighs as you pulsed around him. Your mind was blank, fuzzy warmth spreading through your limbs in a soporific manner. He broke away from the kiss, breathing heavily as he looked down at you, glasses slightly foggy.

You searched his eyes and his face before a smile cracked on your lips. Michael mirrored it with a lopsided grin, huffing as he breathed out deeply.

Feeling a burst of confidence, you let a hand brush between your legs, swiping some of his cum that had dripped onto your thigh up to your mouth. You licked it off your finger slowly, opening your mouth to let him see the mess on your tongue before swallowing.

Michael’s adams apple bobbed, his cock twitching inside of you, “Fucking hell.”

You huffed another laugh, leaning forward to kiss him again, sliding your tongue into his mouth so he could taste himself as well as you on his tongue. He hummed loudly, dropping your leg to cradle your head in his hands.

When you broke away once more, you couldn’t help but notice the glaringly obvious.

Michael Gavey just fucked you in the library.

His tongue wet his lips as he looked at you, “Was that good?” A beat, “For you?”

“Yeah.” You breathed, “You?”

“Yeah.”

Silence began to stretch between the two of you before you shifted your hips, Gavey took the hint and slowly slid from your walls, causing you to whimper from the overstimulation. He tucked himself into his pants as you righted yourself, looking down at the gaping hole in the gusset of your tights.

“Well this will be an interesting walk home.” You mused, a hum of a laugh tickling the back of your throat.

Michael snorted, “Made quite the mess.”

“You did.”

Michael smirked, “It wasn’t all me now. I can’t take all the blame.”

You let your skirt drop, smoothing it down as you stepped away from the bookcase, looking back up at him.

“I suppose not. There was effort on both ends here.”

“There was.”

You nibbled at your lip, the unspoken words just at the tip of your tongue, “Michael-“

“-27. We’re in the same block.” His eyes searched yours.

Room 27? Why-

“Did you want to get a drink?” Michael blurted, shifting on his feet awkwardly as though you hadn't just fought and angrily fucked against a bookshelf.

You looked at him closely. There was no sign of insincerity in his eyes.

He was offering an olive branch.

You let a smile wash over your face, enjoying how his own came to match it.

“Sure."

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to any tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! <3

Taglist: @magnificentdelusionr @twglitching @fan-goddess @mydemimonde @itsshizyne @4v1d-m3t4l-3nj0y3r @liv-cole @lcecgg @sepherinaspoppies @marihoneywk @trashy-panda777 @bellaisasleep

#Michael Gavey x reader #Michael Gavey x y/n #Michael Gavey #Saltburn #michael Gavey fanfic #michael Gavey smut #Saltburn fanfic #michael gavey x reader #michael gavey x you #michael gavey smut #michael gavey fic #michael gavey #ewan mitchell #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn fic #michael gavey fanfic #Michael gavey oneshot #saltburn #michael gavey saltburn

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spacecasehobbit · 2 months

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One of the most tragic parts of Oliver's story in Saltburn is the way that he started out as just a very lonely, socially awkward person who was, I suspect, genuinely looking forward to Oxford as his chance at a fresh start, a place where he was going to Do Better and Make Friends and Be Normal.

And then the first person to talk to him when he arrives at Oxford - all wide-eyed and dressed up like he's going to an interview instead of starting University - is some random guy who makes fun of his jacket.

And then the only person to talk to him at dinner is some guy who is immediately insistant that he and Oliver are doomed to be friendless loners forever, and Oliver shouldn't even bother trying to make other friends.

(And I think he did try to make other friends - the next thing he does after that first dinner is sit himself down in an empty common room, alone but approachable in a public space, while no one tries to approach him or talk to him.)

And then he discovers that even the professors think he's kind of weird, when his tutorial professor responds with surprise and almost discomfort upon learning that Oliver read the entire summer reading list. Academia was probably one of the few things he could take refuge in and be proud of himself for, if he managed to get a scholarship to Oxford, but now he's at Oxford and even his academic smarts aren't as important as knowing the right people and saying the right things.

Which is a lesson he learns when it turns out the other guy in his tutorial is the same asshole who made fun of his clothes on move-in day, and the professor forgives this guy for being late on Day 1 and takes his side on academic arguements even when this kid hasn't done the reading, because the professor had a crush on said kid's mom back in the day.

We see Oliver get bullied, we see Oliver get treated with awkward dismissiveness, we see Oliver repeatedly told that he'll never be friends with anyone at Oxford but Michael Gavey (by Michael Gavey, who never seems particularly concerned with what Oliver thinks about the matter).

We see that Oliver is unhappy, that he is alone, and that even when he tries to put himself out there in public spaces that he doesn't know how to make himself the kind of person that other people approach or talk to.

Until finally, he takes a more active approach and engineers a "chance meeting" with Felix.

And Felix thinks Oliver is great.

Felix tells Oliver that he's kind; Felix talks to him and touches him and smiles at him without reservation; Felix kisses his bike helmet while telling him he loves him. Felix asks for his name and repeats it over and over like Oliver is a name Felix wants to have in his mouth, and then he even gives Oliver a nickname that same day while riding off to his tutorial on Oliver's bike.

Honestly, it's no wonder Oliver's crush went from intense and maybe a bit creepy to fullblown obsession, when Felix is the first person at Oxford to seem overtly, openly, unreservedly excited and pleased every time Oliver is around.

No wonder he got so desperate to keep that feeling, even as his own happiness around Felix started being consumed by his fear of Felix getting bored of him, his fear of Felix abanding him. He could tell himself that all the stress, all the anxiety, all the lies and compromises to his own selfhood and integrity would be worth it, as long as Felix still looked at him like Oliver Quick was someone worth looking at. As long as Felix still looked at him like he was something special, like he was something good.

#saltburn #oliver quick #felix catton #i love One (1) sad lonely boy who just wanted a friend who thought he was Cool #a boy with a crush who didn't know how to let go and wound up going too far #felix made him feel *good* about himself #and then he fixated on felix until he couldn't imagine ever feeling good about himself without felix again #until he found himself in a place where he chose living in a world with no felix at all #over living in a world where felix smiled at other people but never looked at oliver again

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maochira · 1 year

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Can I request a itoshi brother's younger sister reader x nagi seishiro

like the reader has the quiteness of her brothers and also their skills but didnt get the under eyelash of her brothers because she has their mothers facial figure, so some blue lock players where shock to see the female players rankings that there is a girl with an itoshi surname in the RANK 1, and now they know that your brother is rin and sae

somewhat there is a blue lock program for female football players,

there is somewhat a thing between the reader and nagi that nagi's teammates somewhat observe,

nagi blushing around when the reader is walking pass the blue lock hallway (there is a different building for female and male players but eats together in the building's massive canteen), gets motivated in games whenever they look into each others eyes

Gets jealous when kaiser flirts with the reader, and the reader find kaiser weird so she stays quite (nagi and her brothers protective traits unlock 😭)

OKAY SO FIRST OFF this is a great request!!! But I only write gn!reader so I hope you don't mind,, it's pretty much all written in the second person tho so no use of third-person pronouns anyways. I also changed some story aspects a tiny bit

Requests are open!

Masterlist and upcoming Blue Lock writing event

Tags: gn!Itoshi!reader, reader is a year younger than Rin so 15, reader is in a team that's currently training in Blue Lock with the Blue Lock Eleven and U-20 team before Neo Egoist League, Bastard München is there for some reason (it's only so I can fulfil the request of adding Kaiser), really canon-wise and lore-wise this makes no sense but it's my silly brain producing silly headcanons and scenarios

-you're amazing at soccer, your skill being extremely close to Rin's. But despite that, you're kind of an outsider in your own team. During matches you work great together, but off of the field there's no connection

-that means, you're pretty much a loner in Blue Lock. Especially because you know no one in the other teams, except for your brothers. But they're not exactly on the best terms with each other, so you never get to spend time with both of them.

-sometimes players from the other teams talk to you, but it's only because you're an Itoshi sibling. Besides that, so far no one has been interested in knowing you as a person yet

-it's very obvious how most of their interest in you is because you're an Itoshi sibling. Because at first, no one cared about you. You weren't noticed as an Itoshi sibling because you look a little more different from your brothers, especially your eyes. But as soon as there was a ranking list with your name, of course, suddenly everyone wanted to know you

-but your quiet personality makes them lose interest quite fast, so you're not being bothered for longer than a few days

-ever since seeing you for the first time, Nagi often watches you from a distance. He has figured out at what time you eat dinner, so he tries to be in the dining hall at around the same time, because he really wants to see you

-it really doesn't take him long until he develops a crush on you. And he crushes real hard. Always blushing when he walks past you or when your teams are at soccer practice together

-he doesn't know how to approach you, so he doesn't. Although he thinks about ways to talk to you whenever he lies in bed, unable to fall asleep because all he can think about are your pretty eyes

-it's one of those evenings when you're having dinner all on your own. Occasionally, Nagi's gaze wanders over to you

-by now, you've noticed how often he looks at you and you've noticed him blushing when near you. But you've never talked to him so far. You're kind of interested in knowing what kind of person he is, though. You've seen him play soccer and impressed with his skills (although you believe you're better than him)

-you're minding your own business, eating dinner. And then he sits down next to you. Michael Kaiser.

-he attempts to flirt with you, for minutes, despite how you show no interest in him at all. You only roll your eyes and try to ignore him

-Nagi sees all of this and walks up to you and Kaiser. Somehow, he gets Kaiser to leave you. Nagi asks if you're okay and he's happy he finally got the courage to talk to you

-but before you get to answer, suddenly both of your brothers stand behind him

-they make Nagi leave, and although he doesn't want to, he really doesn't feel like starting an argument with your brothers, so he leaves and returns to the table he was sitting at before

-the next day, you're a bit late to dinner. It has Nagi worried because he thinks you ate earlier today, so he's a bit disappointed he doesn't get to see you

-when you enter the dining hall, you see Nagi sitting on his regular seat with some of his teammates. While you're getting your food, you get the idea to sit next to him. So that's what do you

-you walk towards Nagi, asking if it's okay to sit down next to him. And that's the first time you see him smiling so brightly

#seishirou nagi #seishiro nagi #nagi #blue lock #blue lock nagi #bllk #bllk nagi #bllk x you #bllk x reader #bllk headcanons #blue lock scenarios #bllk scenarios #blue lock x you #nagi x reader #nagi x you #nagi seishirou x reader #sae itoshi #rin itoshi #michael kaiser

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twistedinthreads · 23 days

Text

Lost In The Labyrinth

Felix Catton x Fem!Reader

one | two

Part 3.

You came to Oxford to get away from America; from your mother's fame and the ghosts of your past. You get more than you bargained for when you meet Felix.

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: drugs, alcohol, Oliver Quick mention, unprotected sex, breeding kink (kind of? I guess?), Christmas party, brief mention of Christmas, but it's not really specified if reader celebrates or not, brief mention of visiting a cemetery, dead sister, making out, reader being an idiot, reader is American, reader is kind of a nepo baby

Playlist (a work in progress!)

A/N: More sweet Felix. I wanted to keep going but it just felt right to end it here, so that's why it's a little bit shorter.

The Christmas party is more of the same; you snort a line with Farleigh in the bathroom and dance around with Vera to the music you’ve always claimed to hate. Everyone’s decked out in their attire, a sea of Santa hats and a blur of tinsel all around you while the DJ plays solely Christmas music. Someone definitely spiked the punch, and it’s got you all buzzed, though you elect to drink less, given the incident a few weeks ago.

“I’m gonna go hang out in the rec room for a minute,” you yell into Vera’s ear over the music. She nods, knowing what you’re truly saying; I’m feeling overwhelmed and need a second.

There’s a couple sitting on the couch making out in the vending machine light, but even more noticeable than that, Oliver Quick is playing a game of one person pool, shooting and then moving to the other side, a nearly pathetic display. You share a class with him, had been paired up for a project at the beginning of the year, and whenever you see him you strike up small talk, even when Michael Gavey burns holes in your skin with his stare. They’re usually together, which is why you find it strange that he’s all alone.

You walk over to him and observe him for a few seconds before speaking.

“Hey there,” he jumps and turns to you, giving you a shy smile. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“‘S’alright,” he mutters.

“You should come party with us,” you invite. It’s the nice thing to do, and Oliver’s been nothing but polite to you. Sure, you caught him staring at your tits once, but he’s a guy, so it’s less than surprising. “Everyone is really drunk and really keyed up… and there’s a cheese tray.” it’s almost comical, you in your cocktail dress covered in tinsel, standing here asking the loner to come to the party across the hall.

“Oh, no, it’s okay,” he shakes his head. “I’m uh, I’m good here.”

You shrug your shoulders. “Okay. Suit yourself then.”

You fish out a couple dollars and get yourself a Coke from the vending machine, and then lean up against it while you drink, trying to avert your gaze from the kissing couple. It reminds you; you’d come with Felix, but have barely seen him the whole night, and your heart aches to be in his light, in his kind and welcoming presence.

“Bye, Oliver,” you wave at him as you exit the room, making your way back to the party once you’ve sobered up a bit and finished your soda. He waves back, lips pursed as he goes back to his solo game of pool.

Felix spots you immediately, eyes lighting up when he sees you. He yells your name across the room, and like a magnet, you run to him as he opens his arms for you to walk into.

“There you are!” He exclaims. “Been looking everywhere for you.”

“Sorry, needed a second,” you murmur as he lays kisses in your hair. Vera had made easy work of weaving silver tinsel through it to match your dress, easily swiping glittery eyeshadow across your lids to go along with it all. She’d even leant you some cheap earrings that looked like ornament bulbs. “I’m tired.”

“This party’s kinda lame,” he laments, rubbing your shoulder blade. “Wanna get out of here?”

Neither of you are drunk, just buzzed, mood heightened. The cocaine has mostly worn off, and now it’s just the beers working themselves through your system. Your kisses are languid, moving through the room without disconnecting from him. You push him down on your bed and crawl up his long body, your dress riding up as you sling a leg over his body to be fully straddling him. You lean down again, grabbing his pretty face in your hands, continuing to kiss him.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he murmurs when you pull away to unbutton his shirt. “So fucking gorgeous.”

He helps you take off your dress, and the two of you shift positions, your body caged underneath him as he so delicately kisses your cheeks and neck. “Fe?”

“Hmm,” he murmurs as he kisses between your breasts.

“Fuck me,” and he moans, abandoning the kisses across your belly to kiss you hard on the mouth again.

The sex is rough, his hips thrusting quickly as you grind back onto his cock. Your arms are thrown around his neck loosely, and he makes quick work of kissing your neck and face as he moans, your sweat mixing together when he rests his forehead against yours, mouth curled into a snarl.

“I’m close,” he announces, and the tone of it makes you moan. “I’m close.”

“You can come inside me,” you groan. “It’s okay, I’m on the pill. Please.”

You feel yourself on the edge, stars bursting on the edge of your vision, your entire body tingling and legs shaking with the impact of it all, and you gasp out words that feel forbidden, words that you can’t control. It’s a strangled I love you, and you don’t even realize that you’ve said it until his mouth opens in a moan.

You slap a hand over your mouth, and Felix looks at you with so much softness, just before he spills himself inside of you. You groan as he pulls out of you and rolls to the side, and you quickly move to get up out of his bed.

“I should go,” you mutter quickly.

“Woah, love, it’s okay!” He grabs for your arm, but you pull it away, hiding your embarrassment.

“Felix, I really have to go,” you don’t. You could use the studying excuse, your final two exams coming up on Monday, but you’ll just slink back to your dorm and go to bed, overthinking it all. You know you will. “I’ll talk to you later-“

“At least let me clean you up,” his big brown eyes plead with you, and you relent. He disappears into the bathroom and comes back with a towel, wiping you off gently as he presses kisses on your forehead. He doesn’t speak, though, and you sigh in relief at the fact. Once he’s done, he presses one final kiss to your forehead, and you pull your underwear and dress back on.

“Please just talk to me,” he begs from the bed. “Please? We won’t see each other for a month and we should have a conversation.”

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” it comes out quickly, almost garbled, and you don’t bother to pull on your silver heels, carrying them instead in your fingers as you make quick work of getting out of there, muttering fuck repeatedly as you leave his building.

He comes to your door a couple hours later and you pretend to be asleep, the knocks on your door making your head pound even more as you overthink. He texts you, you don’t reply, and he backs off, not wanting to be a creep.

He tries again on Tuesday, but you’re already halfway across the Atlantic when he comes knocking.

He calls during break, you don’t answer. You put your mind on other things, like your mother’s Christmas dinner party and your father’s New Year’s bash with the remaining crew from the show he’s shooting. It feels like a movie, sitting around, skulking while he tries to reach you. One voicemail in particular sticks in your mind, the one where he calls you baby, and it sounds so saccharine sliding off of his tongue.

Come on, baby. This is stupid! We need to talk about this.

Your stepsister takes you to the AMC on 42nd Street on Christmas, and afterwards, as you sit at a tiny Chinese restaurant feasting on crab rangoons and soup, she tells you to get your shit together. You still don’t reach out.

Your break is uneventful. You visit your sister’s grave in Montauk the morning before you leave for Carolina, and you spend days sitting on the beach at your dad’s house, despite the cold.

You have one thing on your mind as you return to Oxford. Your campus is littered with students, all excited to be back with one another, refreshed and ready for new classes. Your flight arrived late, and students mill about the quad, showing off their expensive Christmas presents. A couple people shout your name, and you wave politely before launching toward Felix’s building, praying he’s in his room.

You knock, shifting from foot to foot with your hands entwined, rubbing your thumb across your palm.

The creak of the door opening has your stomach churning, and as he reveals himself, hair mussed up, in nothing but a pair of boxers, you can’t help it. You lunge forward and kiss him.

“I’m sorry. I’m such a fucking idiot,” you say after you pull away, and he’s grinning like a fool.

“Yeah,” he whispers as he grabs your elbow gently, ushering you inside. “A little bit.” It makes you pout.

“I was so embarrassed,” you admit as you sit on the bed with him. “Like, who does that? It just came out, and I couldn’t control it, and I felt so stupid afterwards because we’re not even together like that-“

“We could be,” he interrupts, the words so nonchalant you wonder if you heard him right.

“Huh?”

“We could be together,” he shrugs. “I thought about asking you that night but you just ran off, so…”

“I didn’t want you to think you had to say it back if you didn’t mean it,” you say, playing with his fingers. “Lana told me to get my shit together but I didn’t wanna talk about this over the phone.”

He grabs your face, looking straight into your eyes. “I would’ve said it back that night. I would have. Because I do love you. I didn’t know if it was just an in the moment thing.”

“It wasn’t,” you admit, looking straight into his brown eyes. “I didn’t mean to say it, yet, but it was real.”

Your entire body is quivering in his hold, under his stare, so overwhelming you have to look away for a second.

“If you want this,” his thumb caresses the skin of your cheek. “I want this.” You lean your forehead against his, tears welling up in your eyes. The jet lag is catching up to you, and he’s still looking at you like the only person in the world. The sheer intensity of his gaze turns your insides into mush.

“I want this, Felix,” Your lips are touching his ever so slightly, so you breathe the words into his mouth before he kisses you. It grows intense, his tongue slipping into your mouth before you push him away gently. “It’s late, I’m exhausted. Still on New York time.”

“Stay with me,” he’s all sweet, words syrupy and soft. “We don’t have to do anything.”

And, of course, you relent, falling into his familiar and warm arms.

#felix catton #felix catton x reader #saltburn #felix catton fic #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #saltburn x reader #saltburn fic

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hoverboards-and-dragons · 2 months

Text

My Hazbin Archangels;

Asks about them are more than Welcome

These are very developed OCs so at this point I need to make masterpost for how my interpretation of them works

Listing I'm using is;

Lucifer, Michael, Raphael, Uriel, Gabriel, Jophiel, Zadkiel |__________________| |___________| |__________________| ^ ^ ^ Elder Sister syndrome, Forgotten middle children, family babies

I don't include Azrael mostly cause weirdly intense and underappreciated job are covered by Michael and Lucifer and I feel it would undermine both of their supposed isolation, you can only have so many outcasts and loners in a group of seven that are also a team.

Yes I did make up all the titles based vaguely on translations and mythological roles, it felt weird for just Luci to have something like "the morningstar"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Originally called Angels of Creation or Heirs of the Almighty; they were uniquely Imbued with powers of Creation and raised as His own offspring. (He kinda had to there was nothing else)

Each was hatched in tandem with a realm they were charged with overseeing the development of; in line with the Seven Days of Creation.

Later these seven were named the Archangels and designated the highest authorities within Heaven; however most their duties are distant from the rest of Heaven's hierarchy, the most involved they get is in delivering commands, as God is rarely willing to talk to anyone other than them.

While they were all hatched over the course of a single week, the order was still very important as it defined the chain of command; so much so that the oldest two were called twins just cause they were equal in power. (practically speaking, they're all septuplets)

They all call each other brother, only three have genders, only two are men and Luci's mostly doing it as a bit. They can be a child, a kid, a hatchling, or a fledgling of God but never a son or daughter, isn't gender fun?

Day 1: Lucifer

‘Let there be light’

Lucifer(he/him); the Morningstar, Herald of Creation. The fallen one the brother below Made to be incapable of worship so he could never be satisfied with God's perfection alone and would seek out other paths to take creation.

(which does count as a neurodivergency, angels are inherently creatures of worship)

He'd find flaws in his brothers' realms and expand them into something entirely unique. He was less in charge of anything and more excluded from the control of anyone else. He also regularly got into arguments with their Father for shits and giggles, giving his very reverent brothers fucking heart attacks. (they assumed he was allowed to do this because he was the favourite and not perhaps the other way around)

Day 2: Michael

"the Heavens are separated from the Earth",

Michael(he/it); the Divineblade, Archangel of Law and Truth, Highest of All Angels, Charged with the creation of the Heavens and all other angels.

Most devoted to the Father's will; Chronic workaholic and quite resentful of his own personhood, all he wants is to be God's perfect tool but he keeps having feelings. Well-respected as a leader by his siblings; relentlessly bullied by them (out of love) as a brother for being unable to comprehend 'outgrowing their first intended purpose'. Hes got a famous polite stoic demeanour that's equally infamous for being broken by Lucifer's anything and nothing else. He is getting steadily worse at his job and its going to break him any day now.

Day 3: Raphael

"the waters are gathered, the earth brings forth life"

Raphael(all/they); the Healingspur, Archangel of Life, Keeper of Balance, Charged with the creation of the seas and vegetation.

Mediator of the twins' constant arguments, most consistent voice of reason in any room; Michael's right hand and the only reason he remembers to eat(they don't need to but its good for them). Gentle and controlled but also quite stern. Very strong sense of empathy that is systematically destroying them as they face others on their worse days over and over again. They are the most aware of how Lucifer absence is tearing each of their brothers apart and how unwilling anyone is to even acknowledge it; they have pretty much resigned themselves to the approaching all-out breakdown, there's not much a healer can do before the injury.

Day 4: Uriel

"the sky is filled with signs of days, months, season and years"

Uriel(all/they); the Aflameword, Archangel of Knowledge, keeper of the sun, stars and archives, Charged with the creation of constellations and planets.

Likes things quiet and tidy. Ordinarily quite reserved; preferring to keep to themselves, focus on documenting and organizing and simply observe the others. But unwilling to be resigned, has stepped up as the only one willing to call Michael on his bullshit, like refusing to officially promote Raph to second in command despite them already taking up all of Lucifer old duties; and even hesitantly but directly questioning their Father on some things, which is a lot for any of them. Has an arrogance streak, doesn't enjoy reminders of what they don't know; especially that they are just as in the dark about God's big plan as anyone else.

Day 5: Gabriel

"the earth is filled with creatures"

Gabriel(all/they); the Herocue, Archangel of Order, Keeper of progress, Charged with the creation of creatures and their instincts.

Gabe is a somewhat of a Hermes figure, Michael’s left hand. Quick and always eager to provide their services to anyone who asks; especially known for getting last minute tasks down for Michael. Their wings buzz like a hummingbird at the speeds they fly. Always set on efficiency with a reputation for being deadly serious but is secretly bit of a prankster. A gremlin when they get their mind set on something and will regularly startle others out by clinging to walls or ceilings. In charge of most of heaven’s military and had A bit of a complex about being weaker than Michael despite being the soldier of the seven.

Additional; a Channel suited for Him also sometimes called a sockpuppet, they can be possessed as God's vessel to act as his direct body and voice (without the negative repercussions to their body and mind or discomfort to Him other angels or creations would cause)

Day 6: Jophiel

humans are brought forth as caretakers of the earth

Jophiel(she/her); the Gracespector, Archangel of Passion, Keeper of Beauty, Charged with the creation of humanity

Highlight of every room she enters, quick-witted and an equal to Gabe, even a challenge to Michael on the battlefield. Always up for a good challenge, puzzle or debate. An open prankster, Gabriel is her hidden accomplice. Will defend the potential of humanity to her last breath, a more and more controversial stand; she's pretty upset at never getting to finish her masterpiece since she lost a lot of control of mankind once free will was introduced, she still tries to influence them probably more than she's really technically allowed. Knows about politics.

Day 7: Zadkiel

creation was finished, and the day was blessed

Zadkiel(all/they); the Righteouspeace, Archangel of Grace, Keeper of the Holy day, Charged with miracles and blessings.

Detached, muted and kinda smug but well meaning. They try but they don't really know how to interact with those of their equals. Their devotion rivals Michael’s but they’re quieter. Insecurity about having such an unclear purpose next to the other seven has let them entirely give themselves over to faith. If it happens, Father means it. Spends by far the most amount of time on earth(Gabriel is a distant second) and has strong opinions on every individual sect of Christianity and how they build their churches. They are continually surprised by how out of touch their brothers and rest of Heaven is to the religion that worships them, come on guys at least Our Brother Down Under has an excuse.

Additional; also a Channel suited for Him

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The youngest three are very close on account of being shut up out of important arguments and being left to gossip upon themselves

Michael tries really hard to convince himself Lucifer is The Enemy (he can't live with the alternative) but the other five are of the opinion "He transgressed, he got punished, still being angry at this point is just petty" and still want to be in his life. However, they still don't really get what he was trying to do, Lucifer is also hung up on how none of them came to check on him.

He didn't see any of them for 5 000 years and when he did it was Michael holding a sword to his throat and demanding to know why he was on earth.

From Luci's perspective; the fall very nearly killed him and only didn't because the Sins found him before he bled out; it was then years of painful recovery that never quite healed right. It wasn't like there was anything in hell that could hold a candle to the power of an Archangel, he would know. There was nothing stopping them, he was always there for them when they needed him, but when he was scared and hurt, they just abandoned him.

From their perspective; archangels were, and still are, assumed unkillable, and practically indestructible. This was the first time Father had ever punished like this before and they were terrified. No one was willing to risk it now that Falling was on the table; now that they saw He absolutely was willing to sacrifice His children for the Plan, whatever it was.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel headcanons #hazbin hotel michael #hazbin hotel raphael #hazbin hotel uriel #hazbin hotel gabriel #hazbin hotel jophiel #hazbin hotel Zadkiel #hazbin hotel god #hazbin hotel archangels

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yourlocaltrashpandaa · 11 months

Text

Getting To Know You

michael afton x fem!reader

oneshot

fandom: fnaf

Context: Y/n was quite the ‘Michael Afton Observer’ and she has come to the conclusion that he’s a strange one until she started to get to know him

A/n: I did a poll and Michael won said poll. Also semi following the lore bc I’m nothing but faithful to my source material. Hope you enjoy!

<======>

Fall 1982

You found the boy known to you as Michael Afton none other than odd. You honestly didn’t know why. Sure you have never talked to him personal, you just observed him from a far. He had a small group of friends though he seemed to be popular, yet he was much more of a loner most of the time. How do know that? Well, the two of you have many class together, where he’s mostly doodling in his notebook more than anything.

You’d look up from your notes you were taking in English and glance in his direction every so often and he’s always drawing something in there. You were curious yet you never had the courage or the opportunity to ask him. It’s not that you were shy or anything, you’ve just seen how he and his friends treat your other peers. Not getting opportunity to ask while in class is because Michael is always quick to leave as soon as the bell rings.

But today, you were determined. Your curiosity was getting the best of you and Michael well he just fascinated you. You walked into your English class earlier then you usually did and there you saw him, Michael, doodling his notebook. Hearing you walk into the classroom, he looked up from his notebook and looked at you.

“Um, hi.” You awkwardly waved at him.

Michael’s blue eyes scanned you, he knows you’re one of his classmates he just forgot your name. “Hey.” He said and repeated your wave gesture.

‘Progress!’ You thought as you made your way to your seat.

Michael watched you, his eyes trained on your every move until you plopped down in the desk next to him. Were you seriously always next to him? How come he never noticed? Maybe he was to busy trying to escape the world and ignore the teacher that he just never knew.

Michael shifted his eyes from you and back to his notebook and went back to the sketch he was working on. His attention to the sketch was cut short when you piped up.

“What are you always drawing in there?” You asked him.

He looked at you and scoffed at your question. “None of your business.” He said.

This time when he spoke, you noticed his British accent. It caught you a bit of guard more so than his rude tone.

“I’m just curious,” You said back. “I noticed you draw all time in class.”

Michael took notice of your words. “You watch me?” He raised an eyebrow at you.

“No! I was observing!” You exclaimed.

“So, watching?” Michael replied.

“No!” You whined.

Michael chuckled at this. “You’re such a weirdo. I’m Michael.” He said.

“I know. I’m Y/n.” You said casually.

“You already know my name?” He asked.

“Yeah, why? Are you going to say I’m stalking you? Cause I’m not! We have several classes together you just don’t notice.” You said.

“Oh…” He trailed. This was news to him but to be honest, Michael knew he was loner without his group of friends and he doesn’t talk with other people unless he has to otherwise he keeps to himself. Yet you decided to talk to him, maybe he can make a new friend.

Winter 1982

“Michael!”

Michael turned around after hearing his name being called. He saw you, bundled up in your puffy winter coat that looked a little too big on you. A small smile appeared on his face when he saw you. The two of you have become close in the last three months you started talking. He found he liked hanging around you more than his other friends yet you never mentioned you to them.

“Y/n, hey,” He waved as he met you halfway in the hallway. “That coat looks like it’ll swallow you whole.” Michael chuckled at his comment.

“Haha,” You rolled your eyes at his comment but smiled. “It was a hand-me-down from my brother that’s why I can practically swim in this.”

“You have a brother?” Michael asked. This is the first time you mentioned family members to him so he was taking his chances with asking you about about your brother.

“Yeah. He’s away at college. He calls the house every so often so I hear from him frequently. He’s coming home for Christmas though. My mom is very excited about it.” You said.

“Really? Are you excited to see him?” Michael asked.

You smiled and nodded. “Yeah, of course I am,” You said. “Hey, Mike?”

‘Mike? That’s new.’ Michael thought to himself. He never heard you use nicknames maybe it’s a sign that the two of you are close. He liked the nickname you gave him.

“Yeah?” He answered.

“Do you have any siblings?” You asked.

“Oh yeah. I’m the oldest and I have a younger sister and brother.” Michael said.

“That sounds like a full house.” You said.

Michael shrugged his shoulders. “Eh, it isn’t really.” He said.

“Oh come on, being a big brother has to be fun.” You said.

Michael frowned as he scrunched his face up at you. Are you serious? Well, he can’t really blame you for saying that since you are the younger sibling between you and your brother. But the look on his face didn’t go unnoticed by you.

“What’s that face for?” You asked him.

“Nothing, just… being the older sibling is not fun.” Michael said.

“For you maybe, my brother and I have good relationships.” You grinned proudly with your hands on you hips.

Michael rolled his eyes at you. “Let’s get to class, Y/n.” He said, ruffling your hair.

“Fine. You remembered to do the homework, right?” You asked him as the two of walked to English together.

“We had homework?!”

“Michael!”

Spring 1983

Time passed and the season changed. As well as yours and Michael’s friendship. To the point that you have been begging him for him to let you go over to his place. Mainly because A). He’s been over to your house and met your parents and B). You wanted to the same. You wanted to meet your best friend’s family but he’s been denying your request and coming up with bullshit excuses.

“Come on, Michael please!” You begged him.

The two of you are hanging out by his locker, it was the end of the day and you weren’t taking “no” for an answer.

“No. How many times do I have to say it.” He said.

“You’re being unfair,” You exclaimed. “Why can’t I come over, Mike?”

“Because I don’t want you too.” Michael said.

“That’s not a reason,” You frowned, crossing your arms. “Tell me! Why can’t I come over?” You asked again.

Michael went completely silent, honestly he didn’t have a reason, well not a good reason. It’s just, his feelings towards have changed in the last couple of months. He feels a lot more tense around you, not that he’s uncomfortable but that he doesn’t want to embarrass himself in front of you and at home, it’s his downtime, Michael is still a bit secretive about things and you respect that.

Though he’s been dodging this question since you started asking two weeks prior. Maybe he should just give in at this point, he doesn’t want you to be mad at him. Honestly, he doesn’t want to argue with you about something so petty.

Michael sighed, combing his hand through his hair. “I don’t have a reason why, y/n.” He said, he sounded a bit defeated.

This perked you up. “Really?” You answered.

He nodded his head as he looked off to the side away from your gaze.

“Soooo, I can come over?” You asked.

Michael shrugged. “Yeah, sure. Whatever.” He said.

“Yes! Thank you! I’ll see you this Saturday, Mikey! Don’t forget!” You exclaimed.

His face flushed pink at the nickname. ‘Wha?! Mikey?!’ He thought. Did you really just call him that with no hesitation.

“Y-Yeah, yeah. See you Saturday.” He muttered out.

“Great! Well I have to get home! See you then, Mikey!” You waved to him as you walked away from his locker and headed down the hallway.

There it was again. You called him Mikey again. Nobody calls him Mikey other than his younger siblings even his own mother. It made him feel strange, his heart skipped a bit. God, he’s fallen hard for you. You were just something, kind yet stubborn, tough yet gentle, smart and willing to ask questions. He thought he just admired you but no. His heart skips a bit when you’re around, whenever you smile or when he makes you laugh with a dumb joke he said.

He felt like he doesn’t deserve you yet that’s for you to decide.

Summer 1983

Once summer rolled around, Michael couldn't be more than happy. He never liked school that much more so going to class though he has to say that school this year wasn't so bad with you around. You make going to class less of a drag to him. But, sure had his other friends and you had yours, Michael felt that his friendship with you was more special in his eyes. Yet that comes down to his recently found feelings for you.

He's gone to your house and you've have gone to his. You've met each other's families. You hang out at the mall just the two of you, you beat him at video games at the local arcade. He wanted more. He wanted to tell you how he felt. But at the back of his brain he had 'what ifs', he had doubts. Would you feel the same?

He remembered when he first got his driver's license a month before, he remembered telling you, the smile on your face as you congratulating him with a big hug, telling him that you were excited to not walk everywhere, he laughed at you comment. He had recently got a car from his father (of all people) for his good grades (thanks to you of course). Holy shit, this was definitely his chance.

Grabbing his keys from his dresser, walking out of his room and downstairs with his backpack slung over his shoulder. Michael passed his mother who was in the kitchen with Elizabeth.

Elizabeth caught notice of her older brother as a glint of curiosity shimmered in her eyes as she watched him walk passed. She ran to the empty doorway of the kitchen and stopped him.

“Mikey? Where are you going?” She asked.

Michael ignored her when he yelled to his mother that he was going out as his mother said okay back. He looked to Elizabeth and said. “None of your business, shorty.”

Elizabeth brushed off her older brother’s comment. “It’s N/n, isn’t it?” She asked with a sly smirk on her face.

Michael’s face flushed. “N-No, No it’s not. You’re imagining things I’ll be back for dinner.”

Elizabeth laughed waving to him as he left. “Bye, Mikey!”

You heard the sound of a car horn outside of your house. You were slightly confused as you sat up from your bed. You walked over to your window, pulling back your curtains and that’s when you saw Michael, waving up at you leaning against his car. Your eyes widened as you waved back. You gestured to him that you’ll be down in a minute.

Grabbing a bag, you rushed down the stairs passing your parents in the living room, telling them that you’ll be out with Michael. With them telling you to be back before dinner.

Making your way outside and towards Michael with a smile on your face. He smirked as he leaned off his car and looked at you.

“Damn, Mikey. When did you get this?” You asked him looking at his car in awe. It was so shiny!

He smirked at your question. “Well, my father gave it to me a week ago.” He said.

You were surprised. “Bullshit!” You exclaimed with a smile.

“Bull-true!” Michael exclaimed back.

“Damn… no offense, Mike but your dad is… standoffish and prickly. Yet he gave you a car and a brand new one at that.” You said.

Michael chuckled as he scratched the back of his neck out of nervousness. “True, but he said it was proud of me with school this year so I deserved it.” He said.

“And who helped with that?” You asked with a smirk as you reached up to ruffle his hair.

Michael laughed as he tried to swat your hands away from his hair. “You did, you did! And thank you, N/n.”

You smiled proudly as you took your hands away. “So, what’s the plan today, my good sir?” You teased.

Michael rolled his eyes at you. “I though I could take you on a drive and maybe stop for ice cream, m’lady.” He said playing along with you.

“Sounds perfect, Mike.” You said with a smile.

Michael smiled back at you as he opened the passenger door for you. You thanked him as you hopped into the seat.

‘This is going well so far.’ Michael thought to himself. He had plan, he hoped when you spilled his feelings to you you’d feel the same.

After driving around, talking and getting ice cream, Michael drove to your hangout spot. You showed Michael this spot back in the spring just for peace and quiet. A hill in a grassy area not to far from the neighborhood. It was nice, Michael and you sometimes talked but most of the time you two just sit in a comfortable silence enjoying each other’s company.

That’s what you did this time but Michael was a bit more tense than usual and you took notice of this. You frowned as you placed your hand on his shoulder.

“You okay, Mike?” You asked him.

Your voice made the boy in question jump a bit startled as he whipped his head around to look at you.

“Y-Yeah,” He replied nervously. “I’m fine.”

You scowled at him. “No you’re not. You seem a bit tense and a wee bit nervous.” You replied.

Damn you’re good but he knew how observant you are. He hates you for it but he’s grateful for it too. Whenever you ask if he’s okay, he’s always willing to opening up and talk. Yet not this time.

He sighed. “You don’t say.” He replied.

“That’s all I get? Come on, Mike. What’s going on?” You asked.

“I, well, I… jeez, this is harder than I thought it would be…” He said in a low tone.

“What?” You said you were confused. He was never this tight lipped before.

“Mike, I don’t understand.” You said to him.

“Close your eyes.” He blurted out.

“Huh? Why do I have to close my eyes?” You asked in a confused tone.

“Just do it, please?” He asked with pleading eyes.

You couldn’t say no, you trusted Michael.

“Okay.” You said as you closed your eyes.

As soon as you shut your eyes, you felt something warm press against your lips. You scowled a bit in confusion as you opened your eyes. Your eyes widened in shock. Michael was kissing you gently on the lips. You didn’t know what to do but you kissed back leaning towards him. You’re finger tips brush the top of his hand as you placed your hand on top of his. Michael pulled away and he looked at you and smiled a bit.

“I really like you, Y/n. I feel that I can be myself around you. That’s why I love you, you’re everything a guy would want. You’re kind but stubborn, gentle but tough. I like that about you.” Michael said.

You blushed at his words. “I don’t know what to say. But, I’ve found that I’m very happy that you feeling the same as I do.” You said.

“Wait. You’re not messing with me are you?” Michael asked, he gripped onto you hand, squeezing it a bit.

“No, not this time. I’m being serious. I grew a crush on you even before I talk to for the first time.” You said, you chuckled a bit in embarrassment.

“What?! How come you never said anything? And how did I not notice?” Michael asked face-palming himself.

“Well, I guess I can hide my feelings pretty well. Or you’re just clueless.” You said teasing with your last comment.

“Okay, now you’re being a tease.” Michael replied with a smirk.

“Hey, I thought you loved me.” You said.

“I do love you.” Michael said.

“Good.” You said back.

Summer time love. Something that doesn’t last forever. Before his younger brother’s birthday party, you moved away, saying goodbye to the boy you loved.

20xx

Moving back to Hurricane. You thought you’d never see the day, though you had hopes that you’d return. It was your one goal once you became an adult. Mostly having the hope that you’d see the boy that had your heart and occupied your mind since you moved. Michael Afton. You had other boyfriends in your teen years and college years though they never compared to Mike.

Your neighbors were quiet friendly when you moved into your new house. They told you about your neighbor that lived next door to you. Said he worked the night shift at his job. Gee, that must suck. Though you have taken an interest in this next door neighbor of yours.

It took you a few days to get the guts to go over and introduce yourself but to say who it was, stunned you to your core.

Knocking at the door to his house, you heard a faint yell of a “coming” from behind the front door. You waited, slightly nervous as you rocked on the balls of your feet. You jumped a bit when the door opened and revealed a young man your age and he looked oddly familiar.

His blue eyes shifted to you, he had slight bags underneath his eyes must become of his night shift job. Your eyes widened and you gasped a bit.

“Mike?”

The young man widened his eyes too as you said his name. When he looked at you, he knew there was something familiar about you. He cleared his throat, trying to compose himself.

“Y/n?”

#fnaf x reader #michael afton #michael afton x reader #five nights at freddy's #fnaf fandom #x female reader #x fem!reader #michael afton fnaf #fnaf x you #fnaf lore

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