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psychooomind · 1 month ago

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Flickering Lights

Michael Gavey x singer!reader

Summary: Michael and Violet come from completely different worlds, but when their paths cross at university, an unexpected connection sparks between them. As their relationship deepens, they must navigate secrets, misunderstandings, and their own fears. Can their love overcome the odds, or will the time put them apart?

A multi-entry, slow-burn, friends to lovers fic.

You can also read it at AO3 here.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 4

Chapter 3: Picture me

The Mathematical Analysis classroom was filled with tension. The students, mostly seated at the front of the room, were focused on the equations being solved before them by their peers.

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It was a fierce competition, and everyone knew about the rivalry between Michael and Victor, two of the top students. They were duelling, solving the equations in two different ways. Victor had chosen the substitution method, solving both the integrated function and its derivative, while Michael had opted for the Taylor method, solving the equation with an infinite sum.

Michael was the first to finish, pleased with himself for having beaten his rival, but as he defended his equation, it was Victor who, with a confident smile, presented his solution method more clearly.

Once he finished his presentation, the young man sat down. Michael, with a serious expression and his gaze fixed on the notebook, reread his exposition, concentrating on speaking in front of his peers.

“…and that is why this approach allows the integral to be expressed as an infinite sum of terms that can be integrated individually,” Michael explained. “Although it may seem more abstract, this method is useful in situations where it is not possible to find a closed-form solution using traditional methods,” he added, adjusting his glasses on his nose again. “Thank you,” he murmured, looking at his classmates and his professor, who smiled at him.

“Very well explained, Gavey,” the man complimented as he moved to sit at his desk.

Victor, on the other hand, looked at him irritably and decided, in an act of pure provocation, to ask Michael quick-fire questions, as if playing ping-pong.

“Don’t you think the Taylor method is an unnecessarily complicated approach for this equation?” Victor said, his expression serious. “And what do you think about the difference between using a direct numerical approximation and developing infinite series? Do you really understand those subtleties, Michael?”

The questions kept coming, and with each one, Michael began to feel more uncomfortable. Victor’s mocking tone was getting on his nerves, and although he tried to keep his composure, his colleague’s words were starting to overwhelm him.

“I know what you’re trying to do, Victor. I don’t like being underestimated,” Michael muttered, his anger beginning to show on his face.

Victor, with a defiant gleam in his eyes, kept challenging him. “Are you saying you don’t understand it? Maybe your approach is too rigid to grasp the flow of the theory. Or is it that you just get stressed by the questions?”

The murmurs of the classmates grew louder. Michael tried to remain composed, but something about Victor’s attitude was making him explode on the inside. The competition had somehow left him trapped in a maze of doubts and insecurities.

“Enough!” the professor exclaimed, approaching Victor’s seat. “This discussion ends here, before it gets out of control.”

They both fell silent. Michael couldn’t take his eyes off Victor, who smiled at him with that typical arrogance, as if the argument had been a victory for him. After a moment of calm, Victor approached Michael, letting out a sigh.

“You’re such a weirdo,” he said quietly, extending his hand to Michael as the professor had instructed, in a gesture of peace. He’d said it loud enough for Michael and a few classmates nearby to hear.

Michael spent the rest of the class glaring at Victor with contempt. The comment had struck a nerve.

When the lesson ended, the young man gathered his things, while one question resonated deeply in his mind: Would Violet think he was a weirdo too?

After class, Michael locked himself in his room, studying and reviewing for his exams. He had also gone to the secretary’s office to collect the package his mother had managed to send him. Michael had spoken to her on the phone, and she had sent him his grandfather’s camera and a ton of chocolate bars. The camera was covered in dust, so he spent most of the morning cleaning it, hoping to use it for the photoshoot he had volunteered to help with for Violet’s band. But by midday, Michael began to have doubts about whether it would actually happen.

Maybe Violet had changed her mind; perhaps she didn’t want him to be the one to take the photos and had found a more suitable photographer for the occasion.

Michael checked his MySpace profile, but there were no new messages from her. The same was true on his phone. Maybe Violet had grown bored of talking to him, maybe she didn’t even want to see him again. But then, why had they been texting almost every day? Why had she even sought him out and added him on MySpace? He reread her last message on the platform, where she had sent him a “rest well :p” the night before.

As Michael was reflecting on their interactions, he received a new message from her:

Violet: hey sorry for disappearing, I was studying for a linguistics test

Michael: hey no worries :)

Violet: u wanna meet up tomorrow morning? u could come to my place & we can try some angles before meeting the crew

Violet: gotta keep our secret safe u know ;)

Michael: sounds good, I'm in!

Violet: awesome, see u tomorrow, Gavey! :)

Michael: see u :)

Despite the tense day in class, Michael went to bed that night with a spark of excitement after talking to her. The fact that Violet wanted to spend time with him, outside of classes and away from her friends, thrilled him more than he cared to admit.

They met at the flat. Michael arrived nervous, trying to control the trembling in his hands. The last thing he wanted was to run into Victor, Violet’s brother. He wasn’t sure if she had mentioned anything about the photoshoot, and the idea of Victor mocking him in front of her made him deeply uncomfortable. To his relief, it was Violet who opened the door with a broad smile.

“Hello, Gavey!” she greeted him, radiating joy.

Michael couldn’t help but return a slightly awkward smile, almost as though he were copying hers.

“I’m glad you came early. I made tea for us both,” Violet said as she invited him to climb the stairs of the building.

He followed her without hesitation, feeling a bit more relaxed.

“Victor went out to train, so we have the flat to ourselves for about... forty minutes,” Violet said, stopping at the door and turning to look at him with a conspiratorial smile. She then gestured for him to come in with a gentle wave. “Afterward, we can leave before he gets back and meet up with the others. Does that sound good?”

The flat was spacious and bright, with a large window that dominated the living room and a balcony that let the breeze in. The daylight bathed every corner of the room, where two two-seater sofas faced each other along the walls, framing a modern TV in the centre. To one side, a wooden table with four chairs occupied its place, with a solitary ashtray as the only object on top.

From the other end of the room, a hallway led off, which Michael observed with curiosity. From there, he could see three doors, probably the bedrooms. Beyond them, the kitchen gleamed even more, flooded with natural light that intensified the warmth of the space.

Michael realised the living room was almost the size of two university dorm rooms combined, which made him feel a little more intimidated by the surroundings.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Violet said with a carefree smile, pointing to one of the sofas.

Michael complied, placing the camera case on the sofa before sitting down. As he did so, Violet asked from the kitchen:

“How do you take your tea?”

“Just plain?” he replied, unsure, wondering if that was the right answer.

“Oh, how boring,” Violet teased lightly, letting out a chuckle before disappearing behind the kitchen door.

Michael sat rigidly, not quite knowing what to do. His thoughts began to wander: this was the first time he’d been at a girl’s place, and more importantly, completely alone. Did this mean something? Or was he misinterpreting everything?

Before he could resolve his own dilemma, Violet returned with two cups of steaming tea on small saucers. The citrus aroma from her cup filled the room, giving it a cosy atmosphere. She sat next to him on the sofa, so close that Michael could feel the warmth of her body.

“So...” she began, sipping her tea calmly. “Want to show me your camera? I’ve got some ideas to make you look like a real professional.”

Michael, with an awkward effort, placed his cup on his lap and handed her the camera, trying not to spill the tea in the process. Violet let out a spontaneous laugh as she saw his manoeuvre.

“Don’t try so hard,” she said, leaning towards him to take the camera directly from his hands, brushing against him lightly.

“It’s a bit old,” Michael admitted, looking down. “Sorry, it’s the best I’ve got.”

“It’s perfect, Gavey,” Violet assured him as she turned the camera on. She then raised the viewfinder and aimed it at him. “Smile!”

“What are you doing?” Michael asked, bewildered.

“Taking your picture, obviously.” Violet laughed, and before he could protest, the flash blinded him momentarily.

“Hey!” Michael exclaimed, quickly reclaiming the camera. He placed it out of Violet’s reach as she pretended to protest with a pout.

“I don’t want to fill up the roll with my horrible face, thanks.”

“Oh, Gavey...” she challenged him, rolling her eyes. “Stop talking nonsense. You’ve got an angular face, it’s perfect.”

Michael felt his cheeks burn.

“Yeah, sure...” he mumbled, looking down.

“I mean it, Michael.” Violet placed her hand on his knee and gave it a warm squeeze.

He looked up, only to meet Violet's eyes, which were watching him with a softness that made his heart skip a beat. However, before he could react, she sighed and stood up.

Michael remained still, his mind racing. Why would she tell him his face was perfect? Was she messing with him? Maybe she had stepped out of the room to prepare some prank or to call her brother and laugh at him.

When Violet returned, she was holding several magazines.

"I've marked a few pages with photos we could use as inspiration," she said, handing him the magazines with a confident smile.

Michael flicked through them quickly, trying to absorb any information that could help him learn something he had never done before: taking photos with a purpose.

Meanwhile, Violet observed him closely, noticing how he anxiously moved his knee each time he turned a page.

"I can tell them you can't do it; it won't be a problem..."

"No!" Michael exclaimed almost without thinking. "I mean, no. I'm a man of my word."

Violet looked at him surprised for a moment before a smile appeared on her lips.

"I'm glad to hear that."

Michael adjusted his camera and gestured towards Violet, signalling that they could start with the poses they had planned. He carefully took several shots, making sure to show her the results after each one.

"Wow, Gavey, you’ve got talent," Violet said, reviewing the images on the screen. "You’re picking up the art of photography quickly."

Michael smiled shyly, pleased with her approval.

"Shall we go meet the others?" she asked as she grabbed her coat and bag.

Violet and her friends had decided to head to Cowley Road to photograph some graffiti and urban scenes. When they arrived at the meeting spot, the girls greeted Michael enthusiastically, laughing and making cheerful remarks. As usual, he followed them in silence, observing how Violet interacted with the group. He was fascinated by her natural way of speaking, the warmth with which she hugged her friends, and how their laughter seemed to fill every corner.

As Violet posed in front of a colourful mural, Jessy, the most extroverted of the group, noticed how Michael was watching her.

"Hey, Michael," she interrupted playfully. "Did you know you have to focus on all of us, not just Violet?"

Michael felt his face flush with embarrassment.

"I’m just... taking photos," he muttered, trying to hide his discomfort.

"Jessy, leave him alone!" Walda intervened, giving Jessy a friendly pat on the back.

Jessy raised an eyebrow sceptically but didn’t press the issue. It was clear to her that Michael was smitten with Violet, even if he tried to hide it.

Later, as the group explored more of Cowley Road, Michael and Hannah, one of Violet’s friends, started a conversation that quickly turned into an argument.

"Did you know that Einstein, despite being a genius, was also a sexist?" Hannah said, her tone challenging.

Michael stopped, surprised by the comment.

"That’s not true," he replied, his voice tinged with irritation. "Einstein had conservative ideas, but that doesn’t make him a sexist. He was a man of his time."

"That doesn’t excuse him," Hannah insisted, crossing her arms.

The conversation heated up, and in a moment of frustration, Michael made a remark that sounded more arrogant than he intended.

"Maybe the problem isn’t that you're a woman, but that biology is too much for you," he said, with a smug smile.

The group fell silent, and Violet raised an eyebrow at him, clearly taken aback by his words.

"Are you spending too much time with Victor, Gavey?" Violet asked with a mischievous smile, though her tone made it clear she disapproved. "You’re acting just like him when he’s wrong."

Michael felt a knot form in his stomach. He knew Violet was right; he had overreacted, just like Victor did when he tried to impose his views. Realising his mistake, he stepped closer to Hannah, who was looking at him with obvious annoyance.

"Violet’s right," Michael admitted, lowering his gaze with a regretful air. "I’m sorry, Hannah. I’ve been rude and condescending."

Hannah studied him for a moment before offering a small smile.

"It’s all good, mate," Hannah murmured, though with a slight teasing grin. "Just don’t be a cunt."

Michael exhaled in relief, while Violet, behind him, carefully collected her punk accessories and put them in her bag.

"You're passionate, Gavey," she teased, giving him a playful look. "But tell me, why are you studying mathematics?"

Michael shrugged, answering almost without thinking:

"Because I'm good at it."

Violet looked at him with curiosity, as if expecting more.

"Is that it?" she insisted, tilting her head, intrigued.

Before he could respond, Walda intervened with a challenging smile, adjusting her sunglasses as the group prepared to head back to the station.

"How good are you?" she asked, her tone suggesting she was testing his confidence.

Michael lifted his chin, determined to prove his skill.

"Very good," he assured them, looking at each of them with a confidence he didn't usually display. "I can solve any calculation in my head. Try me, go on."

Jessy was the first to take him up on it, crossing her arms and throwing a random sum his way.

"Okay, tell me what 34 times 5 is."

Michael took barely a second.

"170."

The group fell silent, impressed. But soon, as they walked towards the station, the girls started challenging him with more calculations: additions, multiplications, complicated divisions. Each time Michael answered correctly, the murmurs of astonishment grew.

"That was quick!" Walda exclaimed, looking at him with admiration after he solved a particularly tricky problem.

"You're amazing, Gavey," Violet said, her eyes sparkling with a mix of admiration and amusement. "You're a real genius. Now I understand why it's your passion."

Michael looked down for a moment, trying to hide how much Violet's compliment affected him. He smiled, grateful, but when he looked up again, she was still watching him with that expression that made everything he did feel worthwhile.

"Thanks," he murmured, with more sincerity than he expected.

For him, mathematics wasn’t just numbers on a page or problems to solve. It was his way of making sense of the chaos in the world, finding patterns in what seemed random. But few people seemed to understand that. Yet Violet did. She understood his fascination, and in that moment, Michael felt that finally, someone accepted him for who he was.

As they neared the station, the atmosphere was filled with a light, contagious energy. The group’s laughter echoed around him, and for the first time in a long while, Michael felt completely at ease.

"Hey, Gavey," Jessy said, breaking the moment with a mischievous grin. "If you can calculate all that in your head, why not use that brain for something more fun?"

"What do you have in mind?" he replied, narrowing his eyes, expecting some kind of joke.

"I don’t know, maybe find a formula for picking up girls," she teased, and the group burst into laughter.

Michael rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help laughing too.

"Maybe I will," he said, shooting a sly glance at Violet, who smiled back at him, as if she understood exactly what he meant.

Upon arriving in Oxford, the group of friends quickly dispersed. Only Hannah, Violet, and Michael headed towards the university area. Hannah was the first to say goodbye, speaking with a mix of hurry and exhaustion:

"I have a Genetics essay to hand in next week. I’d better get started on it now."

"Good luck!" Violet said with a smile, while Michael simply nodded, still processing the pleasant chaos of the afternoon.

He expected Violet to say goodbye as well and leave him to return to his dorm, but to his surprise, the girl looked at him with a relaxed expression and made an unexpected suggestion.

"Fancy a beer? There’s a bar nearby."

Michael accepted with an enthusiasm he tried to hide. He didn’t want to seem too eager, but inside, he was excited about the chance to spend more time with her. Before he knew it, they were sitting at a dark wooden table, surrounded by the laughter and conversations of other students.

The night passed in a blur. They talked about mathematics, university life, and their families. Michael, initially reserved, ended up opening up. He told her about his mother, Fiona Gavey, a widowed woman who had dedicated her life to raising him after his father, a Physics professor Michael had never met, passed away.

"So it’s in your blood," Violet said, nodding with a warm smile that made Michael feel less vulnerable.

She also shared snippets of her life, revealing that her mother, a renowned pianist, had passed away when she was young. Her father remarried and, over time, practically disappeared from her life.

"Sometimes I think music was the only part of her that my father really loved," Violet confessed, spinning her beer glass between her hands.

Michael was taken aback by the depth of her words, feeling there was much more to her than Violet let on at first glance.

"It’s incredible to hear you talk," Michael said after his third pint, choosing his words carefully to avoid seeming too enthusiastic. "Generally, people don’t want to talk to me. They say I’m too… intense."

Violet let out a laugh, but her eyes sparkled with an empathy that disarmed him.

"I’ve been told that too," she replied, leaning slightly towards him. "Maybe we have more in common than you think."

Michael looked at her, trying to decipher the emotions behind her words. Before he could say anything else, Violet gave him a playful tap on the arm as they both got up from the table to walk back to campus.

"It’s nice to have a friend outside of the band," she said, breaking the silence with her soft but confident voice. "Oxford can be a lonely place, don’t you think?"

"Sweet baby Jesus, don’t even get me started," Michael replied, letting out a short laugh.

The night progressed, and Michael found himself walking alongside Violet towards the door of her building. Their conversation had flowed effortlessly, with an unexpected naturalness, as though they'd known each other forever. However, as they reached the entrance, the bubble of that moment seemed to vanish with a single word: "friend."

"Thanks for the company, mate," Violet said with a warm smile, leaning slightly against the doorframe.

Michael smiled, trying to mask the pang he felt in his chest. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting exactly, but the word "friend" made it clear where the line lay, a line he shouldn’t cross.

"Of course, anytime," he replied, raising a hand in a somewhat awkward wave before turning and starting to walk back.

As he walked away, the warm lights of the building went out behind the door Violet had just closed. Michael felt a mix of emotions, as though he were caught in a whirlwind of contradictory thoughts.

Why had it hurt so much? He was a nerd, a passionate maths geek, someone who had always felt more comfortable with numbers than with people. People like Violet—charismatic, fun, and so self-assured—didn’t take an interest in guys like him. Maybe she had just been kind because she'd taken photos of the band.

Of course, Michael couldn’t stop overthinking the situation, because that was his nature. Every word, every smile, every gesture of Violet’s throughout the night now seemed to take on new meanings in his head. Was there really a connection between them, or had it just been an illusion fed by his own loneliness?

What if she didn’t speak to him again after this? The thought hit him like a punch. Throughout the night, he’d felt that something special was happening, a kind of unspoken bond he’d never experienced with anyone before. But maybe that was just in his head. After all, why would someone like Violet want to spend time with someone like him?

He walked slowly, letting the cool night air soothe his thoughts. But even when he reached his dorm and lay down on his bed, his mind wouldn’t rest.

The ceiling seemed to watch him as he replayed every detail of the day: the way Violet laughed, how she looked at him with genuine interest when he talked about his love for maths, and the casual way she’d touched his arm when they said goodbye at the bar. There was something about her that made him feel seen, as if, for the first time, someone could see beyond the numbers and equations that defined him.

Was that enough to keep hoping? He closed his eyes, trying to silence the thousand questions that raced through his mind. But deep inside, one thought lingered, a tiny spark he couldn’t extinguish: Maybe, just maybe, there was something more between them. And if not, Violet had already changed something in him.

He turned in bed, searching for a comfortable position. But the turns weren’t just physical; they were mental as well. His last thought before falling asleep was a mix of hope and resignation.

"Friend," he told himself, repeating the word in his mind. Maybe that was all it could ever be. But for the first time, he wished it wasn’t.

The next day, Michael was walking through the university halls when his Nokia vibrated in the pocket of his jacket. He pulled out the phone and saw a text from Violet. His heart skipped a beat before he even read it.

Violet: Hey, what are u doing for Halloween? There's a party at my uni. Wanna come with me? Don’t know anyone else that u & Hannah.

Michael stopped dead in his tracks. A party. With Violet. His mind immediately started racing. He’d never been one for parties, and certainly not the kind that required dressing up. But the idea of spending time with her was tempting.

Michael: Never been to a party before.

The message left his fingers almost automatically, honest but with a hint of doubt. Violet replied within seconds, as though she’d been waiting for his response.

Violet: Even better. It’ll be u first time. Come round to the flat first.

Michael swallowed, trying to picture what the experience would be like. The noise, the music, people in costumes... and Violet by his side. He wasn’t sure which part intimidated him more—the party itself or spending an entire evening with her.

Michael: Okay. Time?

The message sent quicker than he’d expected. On the other side of the line, Violet smiled as she read it and replied:

Violet: Come at 8. And with a costume. No excusez. 😜

Michael put the phone down and tucked it back into his pocket, his heart racing faster than usual. A costume? He had nothing in mind, and not much time to plan it. However, the thought of seeing her pushed him forward.

The rest of the day was spent trying to concentrate on his classes, but the images of the night ahead kept distracting him. What did it mean that Violet had invited him to go together? Did she really see him as a friend, or was there something more behind that casual invitation?

Michael couldn’t help but smile as he read Violet’s messages on his phone screen. At that moment, he was heading to the corner of the library where Joshua had asked to meet. He’d mentioned something about joining the chess club and that Oliver would be there too. But for Michael, chess was just an occasional hobby—nothing as serious as maths or, in this case, the idea of improvising a Halloween costume.

When he arrived, Joshua was waiting by a chess table.

"Where’s Oliver?" asked Joshua, looking behind Michael.

"I don’t know, mate," Michael replied, puzzled.

"But didn’t he come with you?"

"No, mate," Michael said, his tone slightly irritated. He didn’t understand why there was so much emphasis on Oliver. "What’s going on?"

Joshua hesitated, clearly uncomfortable.

"Well... forget it, Gavey."

Michael’s expression hardened. He didn’t like being treated as if he didn’t matter. He quickly realised what was going on: they’d only invited him because they thought Oliver would be coming with him. It was clear that to Joshua, he was just an unnecessary add-on.

Just as Michael was considering leaving, another boy, of Indian descent, approached with a curious smile.

"Are you Michael Gavey?" the boy asked, looking at him with interest.

"Yeah..." Michael replied cautiously.

"Michael.Gavey88?" the boy added, mentioning his MySpace username.

Michael nodded, surprised that someone recognised him from his online profile. The boy extended his hand in a friendly gesture.

"I’m Rishi. Come, let me introduce you to the rest," he said, leading him into the room.

Inside, a small group of five boys were engrossed in looking at a chessboard projected onto a screen. Rishi led him over to Joshua, who seemed more interested in his phone than the game.

"This is the guy I told you about, Josh," Rishi said enthusiastically. "The mathematician who’s in the top spot on the hot rock chick from Saint Hilda’s’ MySpace profile."

The room fell silent. Joshua looked up, eyeing Michael with scepticism.

"Seriously?" he asked, looking at Michael as if he were someone else. "Are you talking to Violet Bryon?"

Michael tensed when he heard Violet’s name coming from Joshua.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," he replied, trying not to give himself away.

"No way!" insisted Joshua, ignoring his response. "Violet Bryon. You? How did that happen?"

Michael didn’t know whether to feel flattered or annoyed by Joshua’s incredulous tone.

"She’s just a friend," he finally said, shrugging.

But the laughter and looks from the others made it clear: no one in that room saw him as someone who could date someone like Violet. To them, he was just "the nerd."

And although Michael tried to focus on the chess game, he couldn’t help but let his mind drift back to Violet’s messages and the Halloween invitation. The thought of seeing her that night made him feel like he had something to prove—not to Joshua or Rishi, but to himself.

For her part, Violet was delighted with Michael. Yes, he was a bit dorky and sometimes socially awkward, but that wasn’t something she disliked; in fact, it was part of his charm. Michael didn’t try to be someone he wasn’t, and Violet found that authenticity refreshing. Unlike many guys she knew, Michael seemed genuinely unconcerned about what others might think of him. There was something about his lack of pretension, the way he spoke with such passion about mathematics or any topic that interested him, that made Violet see him as peculiar but unique.

She had watched him while he took photos of the band, how he analysed every angle and adjusted the camera with almost obsessive precision, completely focused on getting the perfect shot. It was that kind of intensity that she liked. Michael didn’t do things by halves. Even when something wasn’t his specialty, like improvising a casual conversation or fitting in with a group, his effort to try was evident and, in Violet’s eyes, adorable.

Moreover, there was something that intrigued her deeply: Michael was like a puzzle she wanted to solve. He didn’t fit into any of the usual moulds of the guys she was used to dealing with, and that made him fascinating. While others tried to impress her with rehearsed lines or arrogant attitudes, Michael simply... was Michael. He wasn’t interested in being the most popular or pretending to be something he wasn’t.

In a way, Violet saw him as a breath of fresh air in a world that often felt weighed down by superficiality. There was honesty in his words and actions, a vulnerability that made him real. And although she wouldn’t admit it aloud, she enjoyed his company more than she expected. It was easy to be with him, even when he got nervous or said something that didn’t quite fit into the conversation.

For Violet, that Halloween night would be an opportunity to get to know him even better. She wanted to understand what lay behind his fascination with numbers, what else he was passionate about, and if that spark of peculiarity was just the tip of the iceberg of someone who, in her opinion, was far more interesting than he believed. Michael Gavey was different, and Violet loved that difference.

When Halloween night arrived, Violet and Michael decided to meet outside her apartment, avoiding any chance of running into Victor. Violet waited at the corner of her street, leaning against a lamppost and watching as students paraded by in costumes, heading to nearby parties. Dressed as Elvis Presley, in a crisp white suit and golden sunglasses, she tapped her fingers against her hip to the beat of a song only she could hear.

Suddenly, a man appeared in front of her wearing the eerie Michael Myers mask, advancing in a disturbingly slow manner. Violet let out a scream that echoed down the street and froze, her heart pounding in her chest. Then, a familiar sound broke her out of her panic: Michael’s unmistakable laughter.

"Oh, what an idiot!" Violet exclaimed, half annoyed and half amused as she recognised him while he lifted the mask, revealing his smug smile.

Michael was holding a bottle of beer in one hand and leaned slightly towards her with a mischievous air.

"Hello, Violet," he said in a voice slightly deeper than usual, as if trying to mimic the killer from the movies.

"Hi, Michael," she replied, crossing her arms, though a smile tugged at her lips. She pointed at the bottle in his hand. "Did you bring me one, or were you just planning to scare me?"

"Of course, darling," he answered, with a confidence that seemed fuelled by the beer he’d already had. He opened his backpack, pulled out a cold bottle, and handed it to her with a small, exaggerated bow.

Violet blushed at the nickname. It wasn’t the first time Michael had let something like that slip when he was a little tipsy, but instead of making her uncomfortable, it amused her. With a smile she could hardly suppress, she took the bottle, gave him a playful shove on the arm, and then linked her arm with his.

"Let’s go, Elvis," Michael joked as she led him down the pavement.

"Elvis doesn’t walk alone," Violet replied, dramatically adjusting her sunglasses.

As they walked together to the party, Michael felt like he was floating. His costume, which was just a black T-shirt and the Halloween mask, now seemed less ridiculous with Violet by his side. For the first time, he felt like he wasn’t out of place, but exactly where he wanted to be: with her.

At the party, Violet and Michael ran into Hannah, who was dressed as a cat, watching them curiously from the entrance. Violet and Hannah started dancing together, enjoying the moment, while Michael stayed in a corner, silently watching them. Despite being surrounded by people, Michael seemed to notice nothing but Violet, laughing and moving with complete freedom. Violet, for her part, occasionally glanced back, worried that he might be having a bad time, but what she saw was Michael utterly absorbed, as if everything else disappeared when he watched her dance.

However, Michael was so lost in his own world that he didn’t realise Oliver Quick was watching him from upstairs. Oliver wasn’t interested in Michael, but he saw him there and was surprised by how he had managed to get an invitation. He had managed to avoid him all week and didn’t want to even look at him too much, fearing the guy would end up following him. Following Michael’s gaze, Oliver spotted Violet, Victor Bryon’s sister, dancing nearby and throwing him knowing looks. That made him wonder what Michael had done to capture the attention of a girl like her, who clearly had no qualms about inviting him to join her on the dance floor.

Oliver was left wondering whether Violet was just using him for fun or even to take advantage of his intellect. Michael, the rare, antisocial genius, but undoubtedly brilliant, might have been nothing more than a tool for her, something Oliver could easily understand. Maybe Violet just wanted to have a bit of fun, like he would with someone she wasn’t genuinely interested in.

His thoughts were interrupted when he saw Felix Catton dancing with a visibly drunk girl. His eyes turned back to him, returning to his own fascination with the guy and their upcoming encounter. Nearby, Victor Bryon grabbed a bottle of beer, lost in his own thoughts. Oliver realised that Victor could be the key to getting into that group that had always intrigued him, and his mind was already beginning to form new plans.

Michael and Violet escorted Hannah to her dormitory, as the girl was too drunk to walk on her own. As they headed back to the apartment, Violet pointed out Oliver and Victor, who were walking a few steps ahead of them.

"Hey, isn’t that your friend?" Violet asked, looking at Oliver, who was chatting animatedly with Victor.

Michael, somewhat confused, nodded half-heartedly.

"I thought he hated my brother," he murmured. Then, with a disdainful expression, he added, "A weird guy, that Oliver."

Although his words were indifferent, Michael couldn’t shake the feeling that something deeply troubling about the situation was gnawing at him. Oliver, his friend, was walking alongside Victor as if nothing had happened. How could it be that Oliver was there, laughing and drinking beer with Victor, the same guy who had tormented him? Michael watched him with a growing sense of betrayal. Oliver had witnessed Victor humiliate him, taunting him over and over again, and yet here he was, acting as if nothing had occurred. What had happened to his friend to make him behave this way?

Michael furrowed his brow and clenched his jaw, feeling an internal anger he couldn’t calm. He tried to push the thoughts away, but it was impossible. In his mind, the image of Oliver sharing a beer with Victor kept replaying, like an annoying echo he couldn’t ignore. It was like reliving his high school years over and over again.

Noticing the change in Michael’s expression, Violet watched him carefully. She could read his emotions like an open book. Without saying a word, she decided to change course.

"Let’s go to Monty’s," she said with a warm smile. "I’ll get you a chocolate crepe, and you’ll see you’ll feel better."

Michael looked at her with gratitude, thankful that Violet had noticed his discomfort and had pulled him away from his dark thoughts. The scent of the chocolate crepe filled the small café, and with every bite, Michael began to relax. The sweetness of the chocolate and the easy conversation with Violet calmed his mind. Suddenly, he found himself talking about things that genuinely interested him, like the history of Halloween and its pagan origins.

The night passed, and the friends parted ways when they reached Violet’s apartment. Michael returned to his room with a bittersweet feeling. Despite everything, it had been an interesting night, one that had allowed him to break through the invisible barriers of university, those barriers that sometimes made him feel like a stranger in his own environment. It didn’t matter that the party hadn’t been at his college; what really mattered was that it had been Violet who had invited him. That gave him a strange sense of belonging, as though, despite his solitary nature, someone saw him beyond his apparent oddness.

As he prepared for bed, the image of Oliver came back to his mind. He was determined: he would need to talk to him, figure out what was going on between them. He didn’t want to lose a friendship, but he wasn’t willing to keep being the last to know what his friend truly thought.

Violet arrived at the apartment minutes after Victor, her head still spinning from the party and the unease about what she had seen between Oliver and her brother. As she took off her coat, she tried to push those thoughts out of her mind, but she couldn’t help feeling a little bewildered.

"Are you friends with Oliver Quick?" she asked, her tone absent.

"Oliver Quick?" he repeated, surprised. Victor, slightly drunk, raised an eyebrow, trying to steady himself as he made his way toward his room. "Who the hell is Oliver Quick, sis?" he said, letting out a low laugh before stumbling a little and entering his room.

Violet shook her head, feeling the familiar annoyance that always arose whenever her brother was in that state. Without wasting time, she went to her room and lay down, not wanting to argue any further that night. It wasn’t the first time Victor had come home like this.

The next day, the peace of the morning was shattered by the sound of Violet's bedroom door slamming open. Frederick Bryon, her father, stormed in with firm steps, slamming the door behind him with a loud bang. Violet woke with a start, feeling a knot in her stomach as she saw the serious and unkind expression on her father’s face.

"Dad!" she exclaimed, raising her voice as she tried to fix her hair and get out of bed.

"Violet. Get ready," he said firmly, not giving her time to react. "We’re going for breakfast."

Violet sighed, knowing what was coming. As she tried to get to her feet, she heard her father heading toward Victor’s room.

"What is all this?" came the voice, surely referring to the mess in Victor’s room.

Violet sighed. If her father had asked that, it meant he had found something that displeased him, as always. She glanced at herself in the mirror, trying to look as presentable as possible, knowing it wouldn’t be a relaxing breakfast. And she was right.

At the breakfast table, the tension was palpable. Frederick sat at the end of the table, observing his children with a penetrating gaze. Meanwhile, Violet and Victor exchanged furtive glances. They were used to these types of morning encounters, where the atmosphere was always heavy with tension that only a father like Frederick knew how to generate. He wasn’t there to talk about what they had done the night before or ask about their well-being. No. He was only interested in making sure they weren’t in trouble.

With his cold gaze, Frederick turned first to Violet, knowing exactly what he was looking for: any sign of disorder or wastefulness.

"How are your exams going?" he asked, without breath or a hint of interest in his voice.

Violet looked up, not particularly eager to answer. She knew that nothing she said would change the situation. Her father wasn’t the type to offer support or recognition, and although her grades were always good, that had never been enough for him.

"They’re going well," she replied, trying to make her tone as neutral as possible.

Then, Frederick turned to Victor, who was still half asleep, staring at his cup of coffee.

"And you," he said, with a more accusatory tone, "how are your exams? Still wasting time on nonsense?"

Victor, still a little groggy, lifted his eyes, his expression clearly reflecting the accumulated frustration. He knew his father’s question wasn’t really a request for information, but a disguised reproach.

The twins knew that all of this was just routine. Frederick Bryon wasn’t known for being a loving or affectionate father. Rather, he behaved more like a supervisor, concerned only with performance and discipline. He didn’t show them affection, and even less did he give them space to relax or make mistakes. Exams, grades, and flawless behaviour were the only things that seemed to matter to him.

Tired of the same scene, Violet slouched in her chair and tried to focus on her breakfast, though the discomfort was almost unbearable. She could feel her father’s cold gaze on every gesture, every word, every silence. And no matter how hard she tried, she could never escape the feeling that, to him, they were always just a pair of children who had to play their part.

#micheal gavey x reader #micheal gavey #micheal gavey imagine #micheal gavey fluff #saltburn imagine #saltburn x reader #saltburn fluff #ewan mitchell x reader #prince aemond #aemond targaryen imagine #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell verse #ewan verse #nerdy boy #fanfic #fanfiction

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hfj-art · 1 year ago

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Having 'fun' at the beach.

#ai art #ewan mitchell #michael gavey #ewanverse #saltburn #micheal gavey x reader #ewan nation #saltburn fanart #michael gavey saltburn #michael gavey fanfic #saltburnedit #ai fanart

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pitrsattabhaadmeinjaa · 1 year ago

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i finally get what the girlies were on about (not telling you which girlies that’s a little too much info)

micheal gavey fanfictions are now my religion

#original post #wow #saltburn #micheal gavey #ewan mitchell #micheal gavey x reader #i can’t believe i’m genuinely enjoying x reader fics #like i never enjoyed them megore #before *

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flowerandblood · 1 year ago

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Equation without solution Mini-Series Masterlist

[ Michael • Gavey x painter student! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, fingering, angst, smut, trauma, mention of bullying, mention of physical and mental violence, brat taming, domination king, humiliation ]

[ description: Michael sees no point in worrying about anything, especially relationships, when all he needs is math. His calm, logical world falls apart when a female painting student asks him for help in calculating the best possible composition to create a portrait. Sexual tension, angst, a little brat taming and domination kink, great childhood traumas. ]

Part 1 − Equation without solution

Part 2 − Formula for perfection

#michael gavey fanfic #michael gavey x reader #michael gavey smut #michael gavey x you #michael gavey #michael gavey fanfiction #michael gavey fic #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell fanfic #michael gavey angst #modern micheal gavey #michael gavey x oc #michael gavey x original character #ewan mitchell smut #ewan mitchell angst #dark michael gavey

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douceurrrr · 1 year ago

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SILENT LOVE

paring(s): felix catton x shy!black!reader

summary: felix has taken a liking to the “invisible” girl but she’s not invisible to him

warning(s): mdni, oral (female receive), angst, smut, kissing, dirty words, breast play.

the first time he saw you? you were in a local coffee shop he loved to go to, studying with michael gavey who was you only friend at the time. he could remember that you were sitting there, skirt in the middle of your thighs and your braids pulled up in a ponytail. that day you and micheal were going over statistics and micheal had said, “oh look, one of the popular imbeciles.” and you had look up and saw him and connected eyes with him.

all that was going through his mind at that moment is that how is it that he never seen you before? how could he let someone like you slip his mind if he did?

all it took was a cough from michael to pull you back to reality. “don’t get caught up, lovie. people like us are just toys to him.” you took what micheal said that day to heart and shook any thoughts about him away. meanwhile, felix kept you in his mind but he tried not to, especially when his sees you everywhere he goes. felix had made a promise to himself that when he sees you again he’ll gather the courage to ask you out but instantly baled when he saw you at the library.

you looked beautiful. your braids were laid over your shoulder, he eyes traveled down. you had on a shirt that your roommate made you wear, claiming you dress like a nun. it showed your cleavage, making felix bite his lip. you had every intention on forgetting about felix but you had to lock eyes again at the library, he quickly looked away, muttering a “shit” to himself. your heart pounded as you begin to feel what you felt that day at the cafe. you knew you couldn’t study, knowing that he’s near you, so you gathered you things and began to stand from you chair when you hit something hard.

you looked up and it was him. felix. “y/n right?” he begins to say but all you hear is people like us are just toys to him. your didn’t reply back, you just grabbed you bag and continued to walk. felix felt stupid nonetheless, thinking he probably scared you or worse humiliated you. that night in your dorm these images were going through your mind, from his eyebrow piercing to his pink lips, just the thought made your stomach flutter or maybe something else flutter.

same for felix, in his dorm. he thought about the way your skirt would flow in the wind, lifting a little bit to reveal a part of your panties and how your brown skin glowed in the sun. he groaned at the thought of you, trailing his hand down his pants and…

bam. reality hits you as your alarm blares in your room. you look over to see your bonnet in another country, if that wasn’t enough you had a test that day as well, could this day get any worse?

yes. there he was again. he was in the same pub, michael wanted to meet up at. you see him laugh and have a smoke with his friends through the window. you decided to take a deep breath and just walk in. once you did, the door bell rang showing that someone has walked through the pub but thankfully felix hadn’t look up to see who it was. “over here, lovie.” the voice belonged to michael. you walked over to and sat next to him. the table that felix was at a open booth that was behind michael.

“do you think we can choose another table, micheal?” you asked, leg bouncing in nervousness. “no sorry, lovie. everything is taken.” michael says, you frowned but stood your ground. “give me a sum.” michael nodded.

you watch felix’s head flys back, in laughter as farleigh says something in his ear. “um 597 times 300?” you didn’t pay attention to michael’s answer, you just paid attention to the boy. “come on. give me another.” you told him another sum while watching some blond rub against him. felix looks over at her and gives her a fake smile. a part of you wanted him to see you and the other part just wanted him to run to you and kiss you.

you huffed and decided that it was time to go. “I’m gonna head out.” you hummed to micheal, he rolled his eyes and nodded. felix look up for a second, noticing a girl with braids get up and walk towards the door with her coat left in the seat, he instantly knew it was you. “excuse me farleigh, I have to do something right quick.” he says before quickly scooting out the booth and over the table you and micheal were sitting. “michael gavey? right?” michael looked up at felix with an emotionless expression. noticing his expression felix cleared his throat and talked again.

“uhm y/n left her coat and I think it would be nice to give it to her.” michael huffed. “just don’t break her heart.” micheal gave him a serious look. felix nodded and took the coat and ran out the pub.

“y/n!” you turned around, thinking it was michael. but it was him and he knew your name. he had your coat in his hand, you didn’t even notice you left it. “you left this.” he stomach started to feel queasy as your hand brushed against his while grabbing your coat. “thank you, I didn’t even notice.” he smiled, looking down at your lips then you eyes.

“I’m felix.” he chirped. “i know.” you nodded.

“actually I have something to tell you.” he says, taking another step towards you. you looked up at him with those eyes that made his heart warm. “I’m in love with you.”

your breath hitch a bit. you wanted to believe him but back away from him. “Is this a prank or something?” he frowned at your question. you rolled your eyes tears filled your eyes but you sniffed them away. what upset you was that fact that even though he was pulling a prank you would still want him.

“no this isn’t a prank, you really think I’m that types of person?” felix says. “people like you pick on people like me, felix!” even though you were kind of angry he would give anything to hear you say his name again.

“what do you mean people like you?” felix questioned, getting a little mad that someone has picked on you before. “forget it.” you sighed, turned around to walk away but he grabs your arm and turns you around. you looked at him shocked but was even more shocked at what he did next. he closed the gap between you two, grabbing your waist to pull you in. your body tenses up but slowly relaxed as you run your fingers through his hair.

his hands traveled to you ass, squeezing it from underneath your skirt to earn a moan from you. as his lips traveled to you neck you couldn’t believe what was happening. “wait wait.” you whined, feeling his lips on your collarbone. “I don’t understand, why me.”

“Why not you? I’ve loved you ever since that day in the cafe.” he confessed with hands still on your waist. “me too.” you nodded, smiling up at him. felix grabbed your neck and kissed you again, you moaned at the feeling of his hands on you, it’s so much better than your imagination.

“wait we can’t do this here.” you put your hand on his chest, feeling his toned chest. “you’re right.” felix then took your hand in his but you wanted to ask about his friends but didn’t care, you wanted him. he took you to his dorm and neither you nor felix felt like it was real but it was. “this is forward but I’ve wanted to fuck you for so long.” your heart pounded in your chest at what he said. felix took your hand and lead you to his bed and sat down with you standing in front of him.

some how you were bold enough to straddle him and wrap your arms around his neck. “fuck you’re beautiful.” he groaned before kissing you again. his hand rested at your hips, underneath your skirt. “show me how much you love me.” he whispered into your mouth. you then pushed his chest down to lean down and kiss him. he smiles into the kiss, trailing his hand to you ass with a smack to get a reaction that he was pleased with.

soon enough, you couldn’t take the foreplay and started taking your shirt off. felix watched you yank your shirt off on his lap, leaving you in a lace bra. the color of the bra matched your skin tone really well and made you look like a angel in his eyes. “you don’t have to take it off if you don’t want to.” felix says even though he would love to see your tits. “no it’s fine.” you then unclipped the back of the bra, letting it fall revealing your chest to him. he couldn’t help but to touch them, taking your nipples in between his fingers. “felix please.” he instantly flipped you on your back and started to take your other clothes off, leaving you bare.

you rushed to get his clothes off as well, until he was completely bare. “spread your legs for me, love.” while you spread your legs you took a peek at his cock, it was bigger than you imagined. “pretty pussy.” he muttered. he stared at the dark brown lips along with the pink cunt. “thank you.” you mumbled, shyly.

he started to rub your clit with his thumb earning a moan from you. “feels good?” you bit your lip and nodded as he continued to rub you. he licked a stripe from your entrance to your swollen clit. your breath hitch when his tongue made the perfect rhythm. your hand tugged on his brown locks. he groaned at the pain, swirling his tongue around your clit, making you feel like fireworks on the forth of july.

“felix.” you cried out as your body prepares for a release. “m’gonna-” you didn’t even get to finish your sentence as your body finally came to a release, making you whine.

“fuck me, felix.”

with that being said, felix climbs on top of you, starting to postion his cock to your cunt before giving in a powerful thrust with a growl. without a warning he started to pound into your pussy. “fuck felix!” feeling a coil build up in your stomach.

he palmed tour brown tits as he speeds up his thrust. “feel good, love?” he asked while watching you face full up with pleasure. the look on his face alone would make you cum, his eyebrows were clenched while he bit his lip in pure ecstasy.

“I-” he starts, not knowing if he should finish his sentence. “I -shit- I love you.” he whimpers as wave of pleasure hit him. what he said almost made you cum as your toes curl when your close to your end. “I love you to.” you mewled, digging your nails in his back.

it took a couple of more thrusts for you and felix to cum, grunting and moan as the wave hits. felix flipped on the bed, pulling you on his chest. you drew invisible circles on his stomach has he plays with you braids, in between his fingers.

felix breaks the silence. “will you come to saltburn with me?” felix asked, hoping you would say yes. “yes.” you muttered, softly with a smile. felix then wondered what would happen if he never gave you your coat or let you walk away. definitely not this.

#black!reader #woc #fanfic #saltburn #saltburn x reader #saltburn x black!reader #felix catton x black!reader #felix catton #felix catton x reader

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thought--bubble · 3 months ago

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12 Days of Smuffmas Masterlist

December 12th - candlelight and collaring

The Tragedy of a Dragon - Canon Aemond X Wife Reader

December 13th - presents and praise kink

Good Ol' Sailor Boy -Tom Bennett X Wife Reader

December 14th - blizzard and blowjob

A Temporary Respite - Daemon X Stark Reader

December 15th - mulled wine and mutual masturbation

To Lay Hands -Hugh Hammer X Dragonseed Reader

December 16th - fireplace and face fucking

Forgive me - Osferth X Damsel Reader

December 17th - tinsel and talking dirty

You Can Tell Me -Billy Taylor X Maid Reader

December 18th - board games and breath play

Sweet Boy - Ettore X Therapist Reader (All of your senses Universe)

December 19th - holly and hair pulling

Confusion - Modern Aemond X Ex gf Reader

December 20th - stockings and sex toys

Will X Girlfriend Reader (If I had the love I needed Universe)

December 21st - dressing up and dry humping

Micheal Gavey X Study Buddie Reader

December 22nd - party and position changes

Aegon II X Niece Reader

December 23rd - home videos and voyeurism

Billy Washington X Girlfriend Reader

Big thank you to @ewanmitchellcrumbs for the prompts!

#12 days of smuffmas

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luluwantstosleep · 1 month ago

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“Agoraphobia” (1/5)

Micheal Gavey x Reader (y/n)

okayyyy, soooo i love micheal so much that i just had to write something to get this obsession out of my system. I’ve created this new blog for work related to Ewan centred fics as i can’t really post this on my main lmaoooooo. This will hopefully be one part of about five, a nice shorter story i hope. I don’t know that much about oxford but i have a few friends there who answered some of my odd questions without asking too many questions of their own. Might write part two tommrow on my long train ride as the production i’m on have put me in first class which means i get to sit alone 😈🎉🎉

You collapsed onto your bed with an exhausted sigh, knowing it had only just begun. Boxed possessions surrounded you in your new dorm room. The place smelt old but in a good way, like museums sometimes did, Despite not being able to stamp your own individuality on the place yet: it felt cozy.

Disbelief was the only suitable word for how you felt, disbelief that you were a student at oxford, about to study art history. Even if some people back home thought it was a waste of a degree, you were buzzing. There was something that you weren’t too thrilled about though, which was the whole freshers thing. You were not much of a partier or a drinker, you’d rather be spending your hours calm, exploring the buildings and reading in the libraries you had always dreamed about.

Dreading the mammoth task of unpacking, you laid on the bed massaging your temples and feeling your body go limper and limper.

*knock, knock*

You questioned if you had heard right at first. Did someone knock at the door? maybe it was a hallucination, a result of the nauseating headache all of the stress had brought. Alas the shadows underneath the door showed two feet stood outside. Nope, ugh, someone had definitely knocked.

Groaning, you slowly stood up; not too quick. Perhaps your mother had second thoughts about leaving you and she had already returned?

The heavy doorhandle clicked as you pushed it down and pulled the door open.

Upon its opening, a tall boy with dark golden hair, blue eyes and silver wire glasses stared back at you. He gave you an unsure but sweet smile as he stared.

“Hi, I’m micheal” He told you as he offered a hand for you to shake. You obliged in your almost woozy state of exhaustion.

“hey” you mumbled back, still wondering why he was at your door

“I think we are neighbours” Micheal stated sensing your bewilderment “w-well we are neighbours, I live there” He pointed to the door across the corridor, smiling hopefully at you.

Enthusiastic, He continued on talking before you had time to respond. “I do maths. and you were the first to move in…. well, after me; Obviously”

Unfortunately although you felt bad, you could do little but muster a few mhms and nods here and there. Even though you liked him and maybe even found him a little attractive, your lack of energy had other plans.

Micheal didn’t seem discouraged though, his persistence impressed you “I hope we can be friends, unfortunately i’ve already met some right cunts” he rolled his eyes, though he was still smiling, he was sweet “Im gonna go to the pub later, you should join me”

Micheal said the last part as more of a statement than a question and at any other time you would have gladly agreed, and been exited that someone wanted to spend time with you; even if it was because you were his only option. Finding yourself incredibly fatigued, you felt bad for using tiredness as an excuse. Rather stupidly you blurted the first thing that came into your head.

“I’m agoraphobic” The words left you, barely even a sentence, more a jumble.

Micheal seemed confused

You sighed “I can’t, I’m sorry, I’m um agoraphobic so i don’t leave’

You nodded as if to seal your statement, this was torture because you knew how bad of a liar you were. Why on earth did you say that?, god you wished the ground would open up and swallow you whole.

It seemed almost as if micheal looked a bit sad, you immediately felt guilt after he had been so perfectly kind to you

“Oh” The air fell still for a second then Micheal looked down at the floor, finding words “Well I guess i’ll see you around then. Or, or not, of course. Because i guess you don’t go out then.”

It fell silent once again “Nice to meet you” Micheal then disappeared into his room, the door clicking shut before you could even answer him.

Great. Not only did you lose out on making a friend but now you’d have to orchestrate the next three years trying not to bump into him whilst leaving, or he’d know you were lying.

You had been at oxford for two months now. There was good and bad, it was hard to get used to but you found yourself falling into routines and comfort. Friends weren’t something that came naturally to you but you had managed to make yourself one good friend, Izzy, and even though sometimes your lack of a social life made you feel like a failure, you were for the most part; content.

The last lecture of the day had finished twenty minutes early this particular Friday, and you were glad. Even though you loved your course, your most recent study of modernism for a particular unit bored you greatly.

Clumsily, you fiddled with your keys in your frozen hands. Why on earth did you have so many stupid keychains when you only had one key?, you cursed yourself.

Aha, you managed to slip the key into its lock, hearing the dull thud of the mechanism before the door swung open. you heaved your heavy bag and tossed it into the room.

Content, you turned around to close the door behind you. You were startled as you looked up to catch two wide blue eyes looking back.

Fuck, it was your neighbour, the one you lied to about being agoraphobic.

“Micheal!” You gasped, shocked

He stood there, also having returned from his lesson early. You usually left ten minutes late after yours to make sure you wouldn’t bump into anyone. Wheels began turning visibly in his brain, he looked at you, it was clear to him as you stood there wrapped up in your winter clothing that you’d definitely been outside, not to mention he’d just watched you fiddle with your keys, oblivious to him being there.

“Sorry” was the next word that escaped your lips. The facade had fallen

The poor boy looked very confused. You shut your door so that it was just the two of you in the corridor.

“Everything I said the first day was,” pausing, you sighed “it was a lie.”

His brows met, knitted together in further blind confusion “Why would you lie about that?”

Oh god, you felt so bad “I.. I” You shrugged in a big motion with your hands “I don’t know. I was tired, I think a-and. I wanted an excuse to stay inside that made sense and for some stupid reason that’s what i told you.” You looked towards the floor.

You imagined he must think you as weird, or mean and this made it all the more worse.

“Why didn’t you just tell me the truth? that would have been fine” He asked, you missed the innocent smile he greeted you with when you first met him.

“i know, i know. I was just afraid you would hate me for it but instead i lied and made it a million times worse. It’s ridiculous I know” Great now you had to live next to someone who thought you were a massive lying freak for the rest of your degree. You decided you had to do something, it would be weirder to leave it like this and you wished for Michael not to think that the reason you lied and avoided him was his fault.

“feel free to tell me to shut up and go away but if the offer is still up we could go to the pub together tonight, first round on me to say sorry for being odd?” almost wincing as you asked him this, like prey ready to be devoured, you fully accepted that he would probably deny you and slam his door in your face. It would be deserving.

“Yeah, alright why not” He said

Your gaze that had once been planted firmly on the floor sprung up to look back at him. You were Unsure but you thought could almost see that smile coming back in slight.

“really?” you were filled with hope as your fingertips pressed into the sharp corners of the keys in your hand, trying to quieten your nerves.

Micheal adjusted his glasses then smiled like before and you swear it felt like a ton of weight had been lifted from you instantaneously. “yeah, I’ve not got nothing going on, and it seems as if we are both norman-no mates” He joked “Meet in the corridor at 8.30?”

Giddy, you nodded at him.

“See you later” Micheal turned around to disappear into his room

“see you later” you managed to whisper out before the door clicked shut and he was gone.

Anyone would think you had just received amazing news the way you jumped up and down, probably annoying those on the floor below you. Thank god, you thought, not only had you hopefully avoided what could have been the most awkward living situation ever but maybe you would even make a friend out of this, or more. You wouldn’t lie to yourself, there was something about him you just couldn’t ignore. Unable to deny you were a bit of a sapioseuxal, you wouldn’t close yourself off to thinking about Micheal in more than friendly ways.

I will link ch2 here later

#ewan mitchell #michael gavey #michealgaveyxreader #aemond targaryen x reader #saltburn #ewan mitchell x reader #ewan mitchel fanfiction #michael gavey x reader

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boobamilktease · 1 year ago

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Hi! Can I request a dark Michael gavey x fem reader smut where Michael and reader are roommates. Michael comes home kinda late to find rose petals and candles decorated in the apartment, Michael assumed that reader has her on and off again boyfriend over but finds the reader asleep in her room with a blindfold around her eyes because she was waiting for her boyfriend so that they could have some steamy time, only for him to be late so Michael takes advantage of reader's bf being late.. thank you!

Love is in the air

I love this request so much! As soon as I saw it I was quick to work on it!

Summary- when your boyfriend is late again, who better than to turn to your roommate?

Warnings!- this is going to be a dark! Gavey, meaning he will be messed up. This is your warning if you don’t like the following items- non-con (reader is blindfolded + asleep and believes it’s her bf), swearing, sex, kinky stuff, squirting, creampies, slight choking

Im sorry not

——————————————————————————

When you got your acceptance letter from Oxford, you were ecstatic. Oxford was your dream school, and you finally got a chance to go, albeit a scholarship. You were so happy that you weren’t bothered by the fact you had to share an apartment with a guy! You found out his name when you were decorating your side of the small apartment.

The apartment was small; you guys had to share a bathroom and shower. You had packed a CD player from home and unpacked it to listen to music. The music was upbeat and pop songs, giving you a sense of energy. You finished decorating your side of the apartment when you decided to snoop around and find out more about the guy you would be living with.

After searching through some school folders, you found out his name was Micheal Gavey, and that he was a maths major from all his work being centered around math. You decide to put the stuff back where you found it and decided to unpack some plates that your mom insisted you bring with you.

When you finished moving in and getting comfortable, sitting on the couch watching keeping up with the Kardashians, the door to the apartment rattled and soon opened. A lanky guy with a maroon sweater, paired with dark blue jeans walks in and takes his shoes off. You pause the show and look at him as he finally noticed you sitting on the couch.

“Who are you?” You both ask at the same time. “Micheal” “(reader)” a moment of silence passes before you break it. “I um found this place on an app that said you were looking for a roommate, preferably someone who went to the same school. I just got accepted into Oxford a few weeks ago… this is apartment B87 right?” You say and Micheal nods.

“Yeah this is apartment B87, you must have been that girl that replied to my message.” He says and you nod. It takes about 15 minutes for the tension to calm down and some peace to seep in. That was months ago, and far from your mind as you prepare for a big night. You met this guy at the downtown pub a couple months ago when you were just settling into Oxford. Ever since then you guys have been on and off, never really staying in a relationship long enough than a month.

You had bought the rose petals online a week ago and they just arrived, you and your ‘boyfriend’ were talking about this night for a couple weeks now and when you told him that the roses came in, he asked if you could do it tonight. Obviously you agreed, it’s been months since you had sex, and your hormones were all over the place, and living with a guy made it worse.

You see, Gavey in your opinion wasn’t ugly. No, he was attractive physically, personality wise…it wasn’t the best turn on. He was an asshole, a jerk, but he wasn’t bad looking. You always joked with your friends that maybe he would loosen up if he got some pussy or dick.

It took you 15 minutes to place all the rose petals where you wanted them. You were excited as you lit the numerous candles that provided a warm look to the apartment. You made sure to leave them burning but safe from catching the place on fire, that would be a funny story to tell Micheal.

You made sure to shower, clean yourself up how you wanted and applied deodorant and even perfume. You brushed your hair and let it down. Your outfit was sure to leave your boyfriend’s jaw on the floor. A gorgeous lingerie piece adorned on your body. God you looked like a Victoria’s Secret model. You were feeling yourself, even playing some sensual music.

It was 7 PM when you sent the text to your boyfriend to come over and it was 8 PM. He had a habit of being late, so you didn’t expect anything out of the ordinary. You had a blindfold on, something he wanted to try, and you couldn’t help but fall asleep, letting the darkness take you.

About 15 minutes after you had fallen asleep, the door to your apartment rattled and opened. Micheal came in and was confused by all the rose petals and candles. He sat his stuff down and called out your name, and went inside further. His jaw nearly plummeted to the center of the earth when he saw you.

He had to wipe his glasses and eyes to make sure he was seeing this right. You, all dolled up in lingerie and blindfolded on your bed with roses and candles lit. In that moment he was praying to whatever god granted this to happen. Micheal had a tiny crush on you…scratch that the man was obsessed with you.

He found you so pretty and thought he was being a good roommate by memorizing your schedule. He also thought that your boyfriend was a prick and wished he got hit by a bus. Regardless, this was the best thing that’s ever happened to him. All the panties he stole from you and smelled, fucking his fist to, paled in comparison with the shit he was about to do.

Yes he knew it was wrong, but how could he not? You were there, unknowingly letting probably one of the most twisted individuals in your space. God the sight was so beautiful he wanted to cry. Instead with shaky hands he removed his sweater.

His sudden weight on your bed causes it to creak and you stir a moment. You woke up to kisses on your neck. You smiled as you feel the kisses letting out soft noises. You knew he would come, it didn’t matter if he was late or not, and you giggles feeling his tongue lick your neck and down to your tits.

You let out a moan of your boyfriend’s name, and Micheal instead of pausing continued. In his mind he was your boyfriend, not that vapid cunt. He left hot mouthed kisses on the curve of your breasts all the way down to the valley. He licked a stripe up between your tits and played with the top of the lingerie to come off.

It does and once your tits are free, warm hands come to cup them. The hands squeeze and jiggle them, making you giggle. His hands come up and squeeze your nipples clumsily but it still provokes a moan from you.

You were already feeling lightheaded and overstimulated, just from him teasing your nipples. Your hips bucked up trying to seek a form of relief. You were close but he wanted you to cum on his cock. You whined when hands come and pull your panties down and thrown far away. You feel a hot breath on your clit causing you to moan. His hands grip your thighs and spread them, putting them around his head. His tongue immediately dives in and drinks your arousal like water.

He sucks and fingers your pussy, it’s messy but he’s passionate about it. His nose bumps with your clog and it sends you over the edge. Your body shakes as you orgasm, loud moans and legs slightly kicking and flailing. He doesn’t give you a break, immediately unbuckling his pants and shoving his thick cock in you.

You moan at the feeling and the stretch hurts, you don’t remember him being this girthy. He pounds into you, his balls slapping against your ass. You can hear him start to moan and that’s when you realized. Micheal. Fucking. Gavey. Was the one fucking you right now. Not your boyfriend.

You threw the blindfold off and looked at Micheal shocked and embarrassed. You shout at Micheal to get off of you, but Micheal just keeps fucking you. His pace is ruthless and his glasses are foggy. It shouldn’t feel as good as it does, you should be screaming at him, calling campus police, anything. But god his cock makes you numb with ecstasy.

“Micheal m’ stop- ah!” You moan, and Micheal just speed up if possible. Omg Micheal is going to make you cum on his cock. Your toes are curling and you try to push him off of you but he’s surprisingly strong. “Don’t fucking push me away, not after you spread yourself so nicely for me. I bet you set this up for me, huh? You just needed to be fucked real good by me in order to get it through your thick skull huh?”

He says and tears form in your eyes from both pleasure and humiliation. “Gods you’re pathetic, even wearing that perfume that makes me feral. You want this, deep inside you do. Look at how well this pussy is taking me. Look at it, do you hear how wet she is for me?”

His words continued to torment you on the brink of ecstasy, and when he places his hands on your throat you’re done for. He squeezes your throat in his hands as he pumps in and out of you in a pace that has to be a world record. Your body seizes, the lack of oxygen making it more numbing.

Your body thrashes and shakes, legs squalling around and your hips bucking upwards as you cum. Your orgasm is so powerful it forces Micheal’s dick out, and your juices go everywhere. You are moaning so loudly and tears are falling. You feel humiliated, hot, numb, and good.

Micheal has the world’s most shit eating grin as he sticks his cock back in you and pumps a few more times before cuming inside you, giving you a creampie. Your legs and body shake as a slight sheen of sweat covers your body. You start crying, feeling awful, and Micheal just holds you.

Your phone goes off but you don’t care who it is, you’re too distraught. Micheal however sees who it is and smirks. It was your boyfriend, calling, such a shame he would never see you like this. Never again. Because why would you need him when you have Micheal Gavey, a cunning math major and an asshole with a big dick.

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axelsagewrites · 1 year ago

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Working on my first micheal gavey x reader so any ewan mitchel peeps be ready

#micheal gavey x reader

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homosexualmorelikehomiesexual · 1 year ago

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i don't think it went in my likes so its lost to the ether but i stg i just saw someone post discourse about their micheal gavey bimbofication kink. and i just

like honestly? no hate. we're pro kink here. live your truth. im mainly just baffled bc i was so caught up in the euphoria of saltburn literary analysis that i forgot the x reader tag is a world unto its own. what goes on in there,,,,

#finnposting #saltburn

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psychooomind · 1 month ago

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Flickering Lights

Michael Gavey x singer!reader

A multi-entry, slow-burn, friends to lovers fic.

You can also read it at AO3 here.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Chapter 4: A Happy Birthday

A Happy Birthday

The crisp Saturday morning air slipped through the slightly open window of Michael's room, waking him with its gentle breeze. It was an ordinary day, like any other weekend. Except, that morning, he felt more restless than ever. In his hands, he held a small package containing the photos he had promised to deliver to Violet. It had all seemed so simple in theory, but now that the moment was approaching, anxiety crept over him.

Michael had spent the entire week selecting the best photos, carefully attending to every detail. He knew how important they were for Violet’s band, and although he wouldn’t admit it out loud, he felt proud of having captured something unique through his lens.

At first, it was just a task to complete, but over time, their conversations and photo sessions became something more. Now, Michael counted Violet as his friend—his beautiful friend, who, perhaps, had dazzled him a bit too much. He didn’t want to admit he was falling for her; it seemed too soon to say something like that. But every time Violet sent him a message on MySpace or via text, it simply made his day better. And that, in turn, left him feeling a kind of anxious joy.

He decided he couldn’t put it off any longer. With the photos in hand and a nervous flutter in his stomach, he headed to the meeting spot Violet had suggested. He wasn’t sure how she would react—whether she’d like the photos or not—but what he feared most was that, after handing over the photos, she might stop talking to him. He worried she might decide, just like Oliver had, to start ignoring him. The thought that all of this might have been an excuse to get close to him for her own gain unnerved him. What if that really happened? How would he handle these growing feelings inside him?

Violet had chosen a café that was conveniently located halfway between them. Michael arrived far too early, thinking he would have to wait for her. But when he walked in, she was already there, seated at a table by the window, jotting something down in a notebook, completely absorbed in her own world.

When Michael entered, Violet looked up and smiled at him.

“Hi, Michael,” she greeted him warmly. Her expression was soft, and Michael immediately felt a wave of relief. She didn’t seem distant or dismissive. Maybe his worries had been misplaced.

“Hi,” he replied, walking over and taking a seat across from her. He couldn’t help but notice the calm energy she exuded. Somehow, just her presence was enough to settle his nerves.

“Here they are. Just like I promised.” Carefully, Michael pulled the package of photos from his bag and placed it on the table.

Violet smiled as she eagerly reached for the package.

“Thanks, Michael. I’m sure they’re perfect.” Her words made him feel a little more at ease.

“I hope you like them,” he murmured, feeling an uncomfortable sense of vulnerability as he watched her unwrap the package.

“Of course, I will,” she said confidently. As she glanced at the photos, her eyes lit up. “These are amazing! I knew you had a creative side hiding behind all that math.” She gave him a smile that made Michael’s chest tighten just a little.

"Do you want to order something? I was waiting to have a coffee with you." Michael smiled and nodded.

"Hey, will I see you at our next gig at Barry's Pub?" Violet asked after they both ordered a coffee. "I'll save a ticket for you. We're doing covers of Oasis and Red Hot Chili Peppers."

"Of course," he said quickly, without giving it much thought. "I love those bands."

"I know," Violet said with a wider smile. "You’ve told me." Michael thought he had never seen something so genuinely charming. However, his insecurities crept back as he remembered the event coming up. While walking her to her university, he decided to just say it.

"By the way," he began suddenly, almost as if trying to divert attention from his thoughts, "next Friday is my birthday. I’m organizing a small gathering with some friends. If you’re free, I’d love for you to come."

"I’ll be there, buddy," Violet assured him, squeezing his hand lightly.

Michael nodded, feeling his heart race. The idea that she was willing to spend his birthday with him gave him a comforting sense of relief. He dared to gently caress her hand with his thumb, and she gave him a silly smile.

"Thank you," he said gratefully, a smile spreading across his face.

After walking her back to the university, Michael headed straight to the library to grab the books he needed for the next day’s class. The low murmur of conversations and the occasional rustle of pages filled the air, providing a calmness that contrasted with his unsettled mind. He still felt slightly off-kilter from the recent events. But when he looked up, that discomfort transformed into something else: there was Oliver, sitting with one leg crossed over the other, flipping through a book with an air of nonchalance that Michael found almost arrogant.

He couldn’t hold himself back.

He walked straight over, ignoring the nerves threatening to betray him.

“We need to talk,” Michael said, his voice tense, more a command than a request.

Oliver looked up, his expression a mixture of curiosity and annoyance, as if he couldn’t fathom why anyone would dare to interrupt him.

“Now? Here?” he replied lazily, closing his book with deliberate slowness.

“Yes,” Michael answered firmly. “Are you friends with Victor now?”

Oliver raised an eyebrow, as though the question were so absurd it didn’t deserve a response.

“Victor? Oh, that. It was just a conversation. Nothing consequential, mate.”

Michael felt a spark of anger.

“Nothing consequential? Sure.” The restrained fury in his tone didn’t quite rise, but it was palpable. “You know perfectly well what Victor’s done to me this semester. And now I run into you on the street, chatting with him like you’re old friends.”

Oliver leaned back in his chair, assessing Michael with the gaze of someone mildly entertained by a dull show they couldn’t quite stop watching. He was growing tired of keeping up appearances with him.

“Michael, I was just being polite. I don’t have a problem with him... at least, not really. Besides, aren’t you seeing his sister? Isn’t that the same thing?”

Michael blinked, his irritation only heightened by the comparison.

“What are you implying? Victor’s a jerk, and you know it. Violet has nothing to do with him.”

Oliver let out a soft chuckle, almost a whisper, yet brimming with smugness.

“What I’m saying is that Victor doesn’t affect me the way he does you. Maybe you should ask yourself why you’re still so obsessed with all this.” He paused, tossing out a verbal bait. “And about Violet… well, I’ve heard things.”

Michael felt his anger replaced by a creeping sense of unease.

“What things?” he asked, his tone serious, which only encouraged Oliver further.

“You know, the usual. That she’s a bit… quick with her flings.”

The faint smile that accompanied his words was barely visible but sharp enough to spark a flicker of doubt in Michael. It was exactly what Oliver wanted. He knew that once the seed was planted, Michael would redirect his energy toward Violet, pulling it away from him and Victor.

“Where did you hear that?” Michael sounded tense, caught between anger and uncertainty.

“I don’t want to badmouth her, obviously. Someone just mentioned it. You know, seems like she used to date one of Victor’s friends a while ago,” Oliver said with a sly grin. “Apparently, they had broken up, but only she knew about it.”

Michael nodded but didn’t seem convinced. His mind began to falter, grappling with the possibility that Violet—his friend, his confidant—might not be so different from Victor or anyone else who merely wanted to use him.

Oliver watched him with the patience of a predator.

“By the way, how’s your Civilization project coming along?” he asked, as if nothing had happened.

“I already finished it,” Michael replied distractedly, still trapped in his spiraling thoughts.

“Perfect. Mind showing it to me? I could tell you a few more things while we’re at it.”

Michael hesitated but ultimately agreed. Somehow, Oliver always got what he wanted.

In Michael’s dorm room, Oliver quickly skimmed through the essay while Michael bombarded him with questions about Violet.

“Look, Michael,” Oliver said in an offhand tone, “I don’t know much more. Just that the guy’s name was Dany, and they dated in high school until she suddenly dumped him. Victor claims it was because Violet kissed someone else.”

Each word hit Michael like a hammer. Could it be true? Was Violet that kind of girl? Did she see him as anything more than a convenient accessory? Was she, at her core, just like Victor—a spoiled, privileged manipulator who used people as she pleased?

Oliver, meanwhile, couldn’t help but relish the situation. What a weird little idiot, he thought. Michael was the kind of person who was too easy to manipulate: insecure, desperate to be accepted, and always ready to believe the worst about himself and others if someone hinted at it subtly enough. To Oliver, Michael was nothing more than a useful tool, someone he could shape and use whenever it suited him.

“Thanks for the essay, mate,” Oliver finally said, placing the paper on the desk. “Catch you later. And about Violet… maybe you should talk to her. Or not. Your choice.”

With that, Oliver left the dorm, leaving Michael trapped in a spiral of doubt and self-pity.

Violet, with her sheet music notebook under her arm and her headphones dangling casually around her neck, walked briskly toward the harmony classroom. As usual, she arrived a few minutes early and sat by the window, letting the morning sunlight stream through the curtains.

While the professor spoke about chord progressions, Violet tried to focus, but her mind kept wandering, inevitably drifting back to Michael. His birthday was approaching, and she couldn’t stop thinking about what to give him. She didn’t want something generic; Michael wasn’t like everyone else. He deserved something special, something that showed him just how much he meant to her.

She liked thinking about the moments they’d shared: his laugh when he made one of his sarcastic remarks, the way his blue eyes lit up when he talked about something he was passionate about, and how his presence made her feel important, as if she were the only person in the world who mattered.

Violet sighed, opening her music notebook to a blank page. She scribbled a few notes as she thought about the song she had been secretly writing. It was about him, though she would never admit it aloud. Each verse revolved around his eyes, that deep blue that seemed to hold an ocean of thoughts and emotions only he could understand.

When class ended, Violet walked to the practice room, humming the rough sketch of the melody she had in mind. Despite being in a building full of people, she felt alone with her thoughts. As she plugged her guitar into the amplifier, her mind wandered to Dany Russo, her only boyfriend.

They had dated for a year in secondary school. At first, everything had been thrilling. Dany was popular, charming, and seemed genuinely interested in her, but things quickly changed. He became controlling, mocked her insecurities, and, worst of all, spread lies about her after they broke up. Horrible stories that left her scarred, isolating her from several friends. Remembering it still hurt, but it also reminded her why she was so afraid to get involved with someone again.

Michael was different. She knew that much. He never made her feel small or ashamed. In fact, when they were together, he seemed to value every word she said, listening to her with genuine interest. And that day when he accidentally held her hand while crossing the street… her heart still raced at the memory of how warm and comforting his touch had felt, as if they were meant to fit together.

Yet Violet couldn’t help but feel insecure. She had kissed several boys at parties—a vain attempt to convince herself that she was fine, that she could connect with someone. But she hadn’t been intimate with anyone since Dany. The fear of trusting, of opening up and being hurt again, held her back.

What if I’m not enough for Michael? There were moments when she felt he deserved something more, someone more like him—maybe someone just as clever or someone who didn’t always have their head in the clouds like she did. But then she’d remember how he looked at her when they talked, as if nothing else existed, and that insecurity would fade, even if only for a moment.

By the end of the day, after a group rehearsal and a few hours of solo practice, Violet left the building carrying her backpack and guitar. She stopped by a bookshop and bought everything she needed to create the perfect gift. It would be her little secret, something she would give Michael to show him what he meant to her.

Michael’s birthday arrived faster than he had expected. He had planned everything carefully: a small gathering with friends, something low-key and unpretentious. Despite his excitement to see Violet at the party, he couldn’t shake the odd feeling he had. The thought of her being there, by his side, kept him distracted all day.

In the mid-afternoon, just before the party, he met with his mother as they had arranged earlier in the week. She, as always, was serious, almost expressionless, seated in the trattoria. When he entered, she looked him up and down with her calculating eyes. She was a nurse, so she was used to maintaining a professional demeanour, even outside of work.

"Who are you always talking to on the phone?" his mother asked as she wiped her mouth after they’d both finished their respective plates of pasta.

"Just some friends, Mum. Nothing out of the ordinary." Michael, who had been sorting out a few things for the party, tensed slightly.

"I heard you mention a girl—Violet, isn’t it? Make sure you’re looking after yourself, alright?" She raised an eyebrow, not entirely convinced. Her tone was sharp, as if interrogating a patient.

"Yes, Mum. Don’t worry," Michael replied, unsure how to handle the subject. What was he supposed to say? You’ve got nothing to worry about, Mum. I’m still a virgin. In the end, his mother simply nodded and left the conversation there, without further comment.

Meanwhile, Violet was getting ready for Michael’s party. She had put on gold heels and a white dress. Carefully, she prepared the gift, wrapping it in brown paper and tucking it under her arm before heading to the party.

When she arrived, Michael, who was feeling slightly down about having turned up too early and finding no one else there yet, couldn’t help but notice her immediately, relief washing over him.

"What’ve you got there, Bryon?" Michael tried to sound cool, sipping distractedly from his beer at the bar table.

"It’s a painting—I made it for this guy, you know?" Violet smiled playfully. "I think it’s his birthday today."

"A painting?" Michael asked, incredulous. Was there anything this girl couldn’t do?

"Yes, I hope you like it... I mean, I hope he likes it. He’s quite picky," she teased, her tone light.

"I’m not picky," Michael protested with a warm smile, and Violet gave his arm a gentle squeeze.

"Well, I’ve heard otherwise, Gavey. Want to open it?"

Michael nodded, setting his beer down on the table. He carefully tore through the wrapping and couldn’t help but blush at the thoughtful gift. It was a medieval cottage, strikingly similar to the ones he had told her about from his favourite game, The Legend of Zelda.

"It’s amazing, Violet. I had no idea... no idea you did anything like this. It’s... it’s perfect." Michael looked utterly astonished.

Violet, feeling encouraged, leaned in to hug him, leaving Michael completely frozen.

"I’m glad you like it," she said softly. "I thought you might."

At that moment, his chess friends appeared behind them, and Michael pulled away from Violet with sudden urgency. She turned to see a group of nerds staring at her in disbelief. Joshua, Mark, Philippe, and Zack had never imagined Michael could actually be with someone like Violet. They approached the pair, curiosity and a hint of amusement in their eyes.

"Well, Michael, you weren’t lying," Zack joked. "Who’s this? Your girlfriend?"

Michael, slightly embarrassed, glanced at Violet, who, though taken aback by the question, only smiled shyly.

"Her name’s Violet," he said, trying to play it cool.

Violet felt her cheeks flush at the comment but didn’t say anything. Inside, though, she was completely overjoyed that Michael had clearly spoken about her to his friends. While she wouldn’t admit it aloud, the thought of his friends referring to her as his girlfriend filled her with a quiet happiness.

The night wore on, and the atmosphere of the bar gradually transformed into a tangle of laughter, loud music, and increasingly lively conversations. Michael, who had seemed nervous at first, slowly let the alcohol dissolve his usual social awkwardness. By the time the clock struck midnight, he had lost track of how many beers he’d had and was completely engrossed in teaching Violet how to play chess. His voice, usually hesitant, now brimmed with confidence as he leaned in to whisper strategic tips into her ear, while a small group of onlookers watched.

Oliver Quick arrived just in time to witness the scene. Pausing at the doorway, he surveyed the room with narrowed eyes and an expression of calculated indifference. The first thing that caught his attention was Michael, whose vulnerability was all the more apparent under the influence of alcohol. But what truly intrigued Oliver was Violet—leaning towards Michael, laughing softly, and feigning clumsiness at the game to draw him closer.

To Oliver, the scene was almost comical. He recognised the dynamic instantly: the girl pretending to be innocent and clueless, and the boy, drunk on both beer and attention, completely oblivious to the fact that he was being played. Michael is so predictable... so ridiculously easy to manipulate, Oliver thought with a mixture of disdain and amusement. He knew Michael well enough to see that he was blind to the signals Violet was sending him. That intense gaze practically begging for a kiss, the nervous smiles, the casual touches of their hands. Michael was lost in his own little world, too infatuated to notice the cracks.

Oliver decided it was time to intervene. With a relaxed stride and an air of nonchalance, he approached the bar, where Violet was waiting for her drink.

“Violet, hello,” he greeted her, flashing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “How’s it going with the band?”

Violet glanced up at him, her expression a mix of surprise and distaste. Her tone shifted immediately, turning cold and distant.

“Hello, Oliver. Fine, thanks for asking,” she replied curtly.

Oliver nodded, feigning interest, though he was really scrutinising her, analysing every reaction. There was something about her that intrigued him—not in a positive way, but enough to make him curious. That hostility... Was it a shield? Or perhaps she knew that he could see right through her.

Without breaking eye contact, he let his next comment drop casually. “So, you and Michael…”

“What about it?” Violet met his gaze directly, her eyes flashing with irritation.

“Nothing, nothing,” Oliver replied with a smile that suggested otherwise. “I was just wondering what Victor would think about all this.”

“Victor has no say in my social life; he’s my brother,” Violet snapped, her frown deepening, her patience clearly wearing thin.

Oliver nodded slowly, leaning in as though to share a secret. “You’re right, of course. But between you and me, we both know you and Michael have no future. You’ve got nothing in common. Something tells me you’re just doing this to annoy Victor.”

“Does Victor think that?” Her voice rose, tinged with anger. “Because if he does, he needs to pull his head out of his own arse. Whatever’s going on between Michael and me is none of his—or your—business.”

The words seemed to pierce her, and Violet’s tone shifted from cold to sharp, almost defiant.

The bartender interrupted their exchange by placing Violet’s drink on the counter. Without another word, she took it and walked away without looking back, leaving Oliver at the bar with a satisfied smirk.

From a distance, Oliver continued to observe the scene. Michael, oblivious to what had just occurred, was still devotedly teaching chess, his enthusiasm bordering on ridiculous. Violet, though visibly affected, quickly rejoined him, resuming her playful laughter and intense glances.

Oliver knew what he had just uncovered. Violet had feelings for Michael—there was no doubt about it. And now Oliver had that information in his grasp. As he walked away from the bar, he weighed his options. He could use what he knew to tip the scales in his favour, as he always did. After all, Michael was an easy piece to sacrifice, should the time come.

Meanwhile, Violet returned to the section of the bar where Michael’s birthday celebration was taking place. She noticed that Michael was now on his tenth beer and had clearly lost control of himself. He had drunk far more than he’d planned, and his behaviour was becoming increasingly uninhibited. At one point, Michael started rambling incoherently, laughing too much and repeatedly showering Violet with compliments.

“I don’t care what they say about you, Vi. You’re... the prettiest girl in the world,” he said with a goofy grin.

Violet, though amused by the situation, couldn’t help but feel a twinge of concern. What are they saying about me? She knew Michael wasn’t fully aware of what he was saying, but clearly, someone had said something that had alarmed him.

“I think you’ve had too much,” she said softly, helping him sit in a free chair in the crowded bar. “Just relax, Michael. I’m here.”

As the night wore on, Violet took charge of Michael, who was no longer able to stand on his own. In the end, she decided that the best thing was to take him back to her apartment, not wanting to leave him alone in such a fragile state.

At her apartment, Michael collapsed on the sofa, and Violet sat beside him, concerned. Though Michael mumbled some incoherent things, Violet didn’t dare leave. She stayed with him all night, making sure he was alright.

“Did you know you’re the most beautiful girl in the world?” Michael murmured in his sleep. “I still don’t understand how you can hang out with me. You know, it wouldn’t bother me if it hurts a little... It’s worth it, just the fact that you want to be with me is enough...”

“Don’t say those things about yourself, Mickey.”

“Mickey, Mickey, Mickey,” he hummed. “You know, only my mum used to call me that? When I was little, when she liked me.”

With her heart breaking from the drunken comments, Violet leaned back a little on the sofa and stayed there, watching over him. She knew that by the next day, he wouldn’t remember any of what had happened. But she also knew that, deep down, what was between them was beginning to be something more significant than just friendship. She also, on the other hand, wanted to press him with questions about those comments he’d made about her. I don’t care what they say about you? What the hell had they been saying about her? Suddenly, she remembered the disgusting rumours Dany had made up about her and feared that somehow they had reached Michael.

The next morning, when Michael woke up, he got up from the sofa with clumsy movements, feeling his body heavy and his mind shrouded in confusion. He pressed a hand to his temple, where a sharp pain reminded him that something wasn’t quite right. Where was he? His gaze swept the room, oddly familiar but disorienting at the same time. He couldn’t remember anything from the night before, or how he had ended up there.

Suddenly, Violet appeared from the kitchen, holding a steaming cup of tea in her hands. Her smile was soft, but there was a mischievous glint in her eyes that made Michael feel a knot of nerves in his stomach.

“Oh, look who’s risen from the dead,” she joked, extending the cup to him. “Looks like you drank a bit too much last night.”

Michael took the cup awkwardly, not daring to look her directly in the eyes. He was embarrassed, and a sense of discomfort washed over him. He nodded, as if that was enough of a response, but inside, a storm of emotions kept him on edge. Confusion, anxiety... and a lingering desire he couldn’t ignore.

What the hell happened last night? The question hit him again and again. Had something happened between them? Had he crossed a line that now put them on uncertain ground? His eyes, almost involuntarily, sought out Violet’s, but she seemed perfectly calm, as if the night before had just been a funny anecdote. Yet, Michael sensed something else in the way she looked at him, a subtle tension that left him puzzled.

Then there was the fact that he was in the Bryon apartment. Why? How? It was hostile territory for him, a place he would never have come to on his own. The only thing clear in his mind was that, no matter what happened, he didn’t want Violet to slip away from his life.

“Your brother…” he started, his voice a little shaky.

Violet let out a laugh, interrupting him.

“Victor is more drunk than you. I doubt he’ll even notice you’re here, Mickey.”

Mickey?! Violet’s voice echoed in Michael’s mind like a persistent refrain as he tried to process what had just happened. The warmth in her gaze, mixed with a hint of confusion, made him feel a swirl of emotions. What the hell had happened between them? Feeling dazed and visibly uncomfortable, Michael forced himself to speak, mumbling about how behind he was with the rehearsals for the week, even though he didn’t believe that excuse himself.

He brought the tea to his lips and drank it in a hurried gulp, as if the warmth of the liquid could calm the whirlwind in his head. Violet, ever perceptive, watched him in silence, her eyes shifting between curiosity and a hint of disappointment. She didn’t say anything but opened the door to the apartment, giving him space to leave. Michael, unable to hold her gaze, slipped away without another word, rushing down the stairs as the weight of confusion settled on his shoulders.

Outside, the cold morning air hit his face, barely clearing the chaos in his mind. He needed answers, and he needed them quickly. What had happened at that party? What did the “Mickey” brimming with familiarity that Violet had uttered mean? His heart raced as he remembered disjointed flashes from the night before: Violet’s laughter, her smile, the warmth of her hand on his. For a moment, the thought that she might feel the same way filled him with hope... but also with terror. What if it had just been a fleeting moment for her? What if he was magnifying it in his mind?

As he walked through the nearly deserted campus streets, Michael couldn’t help but recall how he’d felt on his birthday: for the first time, truly seen. Violet had been there for him, laughing at his jokes, listening to him with an attention he’d never felt before. Even when he tried to be rational, the idea that there might be something more between them quickened his pulse.

But there were too many questions. Had they talked too much? Had they kissed? Had he said something he shouldn’t have? Michael knew he needed to find someone who had been at that party, someone who could clarify exactly what had happened. He couldn’t face Violet without knowing how to approach the situation. His mind was spinning with a whirlwind of “what ifs” and possibilities that filled him with anxiety.

Meanwhile, in the apartment, Violet stood by the door, her brow slightly furrowed. There was something odd about Michael’s behaviour, something she couldn’t quite figure out. He had been more shy and nervous than usual, and that only made her wonder if what she remembered from the night before had been a dream or if it had really happened. Violet bit her lip, hugging herself. She knew she had feelings for Michael. His blue eyes, the way he spoke passionately about things most would consider trivial, even his clumsiness—everything about him made her feel a warmth she hadn’t felt in years.

But the fear was there, lurking. After what had happened with Dany, she had learned to build walls. Violet sighed, leaning against the wall as she tried to calm her racing heart. What she felt for Michael was real, but it was also terrifying. What if he didn’t feel the same? What if he was just a good friend confused by alcohol? She shook her head, trying to rid herself of those thoughts. But as she did, she couldn’t help but smile slightly, remembering the way Michael had taken her hand at the party, how they’d flirted as he “taught” her to play chess, how he’d called her “love,” “darling,” nearly the entire night. What if that night had been the beginning of something more?

On the other hand, Michael was determined. He needed answers, but he also knew that, in the end, the most important thing would be facing Violet and being honest. Perhaps, just perhaps, the night before had been the best birthday of his life because, for once, he hadn’t felt alone. What if that feeling didn’t have to be fleeting? As he walked towards his room, he crossed paths with the perfect person to ask about his birthday night: Oliver.

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hfj-art · 1 year ago

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Let's go shopping Mikey

#ai art #michael gavey #ewan mitchell #micheal gavey x reader #saltburn #ewan nation #ewanverse #michael gavey fanfic #michael gavey saltburn #saltburn fanart #saltburnedit #ai fanart #comics

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hfj-art · 1 year ago

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Michael Gavey reacting to his Gf's selfie.

#michael gavey #ewan mitchell #micheal gavey x reader #ai art #saltburn #geek #ewanverse #ewan nation #ai fanart #ai artwork #saltburn fanart #michael gavey saltburn

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thought--bubble · 1 year ago

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She Brings The Darkness pt. 1/2

Michael Gavey X (Goth Classmate Reader)

Warnings Below

Word Count: 2,187

Michael Gavey Master List

Full Master List

Banners by @arcielee

Warnings: dry humping, male whimpering (a personal favorite), Michael has no game.

Getting into Oxford was a surprise. Your family did not come from money, you went to a basic school in an area that wasn't poverty stricken but certainly wasn't an area where the kids there would end up at a place like oxford.

While you excelled academically, you still didn't have the advantages most of your peers did. You didn't expect to fit in and by contrast to most students, didn't particularly want to.

You'd always felt more comfortable fading into the backround. You dressed according to a style that would be described as "goth" by most. your dark hair and dark clothes seeming to place you in this bubble that screamed "do not talk to me" something you had spent years building to protect your solace and your sanity.

When you arrived on campus you decided to continue with your usual persona. Standoffish, cold and a little creepy that should be enough to keep all of these posh prats out of your face, or so you thought.

Your plan worked like a charm your first few months of school. No one bothered you. You weren't invited to parties, you didn't have people reaching out to you wanting you as a friend or a study companion. You were left alone. Just the way you liked it.

You would regularly study in the university's library after hours. When most students were long gone, the tables empty. The library was typically pretty quiet but at this time of day it was almost ominous.

Today, the beauty of solitude was interrupted by non other than Michael Gavey. He was sitting about two tables over from where you are seated nose buried in a book. flipping through the pages furiously. It's common knowledge that he has been even more insufferable than usual since his only friend Oliver ditched him for the allure of the ever popular Felix.

Michael's persona didn't bother you as much as it did the average person. You actually found it comical that he could not under any circumstances just act normal. He is incredibly intelligent that much was obvious. but he was so God damn abrasive. It's as if he needed you to know he is smarter than you and had no qualms in being aggressive about it.

You try to remain focused on your studies. You have a mid-term coming up that you have to be prepared for, but the aggressive swishing of the pages and loud sighs coming from Michael's table were just about to push you over the edge.

Then he pulls out the crunchy bar. With its crinkly wrapper and crunchy contents that he mashes in his mouth and it finally sets you off.

You gather up your books in a huff. As you near his table you can't help yourself.

"You know, all this," you gesture to Michael. "This is why people avoid you. You're barkin' mad"

He looks at you with pure anger in his eyes. "Because I'm reading a book?"

"No, because you're so aggressive, not even a book can escape your wrath," you make your way out of the library thinking that would be the end of it.

You were wrong. Very, very wrong.

From then on, you would catch Michael glaring at you in all different places.

You go to the library, he's there glaring at you. In the one class you share, he's glaring at you. Walking on campus, glaring again. It's as if suddenly he is everywhere you are, and he just glares at you like he is hoping to somehow set you ablaze through sheer willpower.

After a few weeks of this, you have become entirely fed up. As you sit through your professors' long boring lecture, that feels like it will never end, you can feel micheal's eyes boring into you. Instead of just ignoring his stare as you usually do, you turn and look right back at him with a glare of your own.

He just looks back at you with a deepening scowl. You roll your eyes at him, and he smiles. It's quick, and if you were less perceptive, you may have missed it.

You decide then and there. He is going to stop. You will make sure of that.

It was easy enough to get him alone. After all, he was following you everywhere and staring you down. So today you decided to give him something to stare at.

You hadn't worn clothes like these in a long time, but you knew they would do the trick. A pink pleated micro mini skirt, black fishnet thigh highs with your oxblood docs and a black jumper. Not too over the top, but it shouldn't be all that difficult to get Michael Gavey flustered. With his social capabilities, you couldn't imagine he had a long list of ladies with tales of romance and mind-blowing sex to tell about him.

So all dressed up you put your plan in motion. It's Tuesday and you spend every Tuesday evening in the same place. The library.

Michael clearly knows this as well. Every Tuesday, he is now also in the library, a few tables over from you, flipping through whatever text he is studying and glaring at you with contempt occasionally.

You walk into the library prepared for battle. You look around from table to table. He isn't here yet. But you know that creepy little genius. He'll be here to rain down dirty looks upon you.

So you get yourself set up at your usual table. You set a few books out opened to various pages. Your notebooks a few pens a bottle of water and then you wait. You don't have to wait too long before he comes in. His eyes scan the room quickly, and then he sees you. A scowl overtakes his features as he makes his way to his usual table.

You give him some time to settle in. To develop a false sense of security before you make your move. You take one of your books and make your way over to Michael's table.

"Michael Gavey" you click your tounge "I swear I see you just about everywhere now"

You lean against the table in front of him, putting just your bum over the edge of the table. Your little pink skirt riding up just enough to show off the top of your thigh highs.

He lifts his eyes from the book he is looking at, and they immediately lock onto your thigh. He swallows audibly before he looks up at you.

"Guess I've got your attention then?"

You narrow your eyes at him before you slide further down the side of the table getting closer to him.

"Have you been trying to get my attention, Gavey?"

He shifts slightly in his chair. He opens and closes his hand slowly against the thick wood of the table.

"Didn't say that"

"Hmmm," you scratch at the wood of the table with your fingernail.

"Didn't deny it either." You look around the library. There are only a handful of students left in there. You know, within the next hour or two, it should completely clear out. So you have a while to play with Michael before the two of you are alone.

You slide your thumb under the band of your thigh high lightly, snapping it against the skin as you pretend to be deep in thought.

His eyes immediately dart to your thighs, and his breath quickens. You internally smile, fighting to keep it from showing on your face. Even though you are aware he isn't looking at your face. You've got him right where you want him, all nerves and hormones.

Snap, snap, snap, snap, snap, the band of your thigh high continually snapping against your skin has him completely enthralled.

"W-" he clears his throat. "What are you doing?"

"Thinking" you snap the band, once, twice, three more times.

"About what?" His hand is gripping the edge of the table harshly

"I'm trying to figure out just what exactly it is that you're after." You slide around the corner of the table, moving his clutched hand, so you are now leaning on the table directly between Michael and it.

"I...i....ummm....books..... there are....ummm...I have.....books?" He struggles to get out his thoughts as his face blushes a bright crimson.

"You have books? Here? In the library? Ghastly, " You push yourself up so you are now sitting on the table. Your thighs are pretty thick, so they spread out a bit in the new position.

You run your fingers over the pages of the book he has open on the table.

"You're here just to study then?" You look at him eyebrows raised.

He just stares back at you, blinking.

"Oh Gavey..... you in there?" You rub your ankle against his thigh.

His body jerks the second your body makes contact.

"Huh?" He looks up at you, eyes hooded.

"I said, are you here just to study? Nothing else?" You continue to move your leg back and forth like you're swinging on a swingset yet slow with your ankle, maintaining contact with his thigh.

"Ummm. .. the library?..... studying.... yes.....mmmmhmmm"

You take a look around again. The library has mostly cleared out save for one girl at a far table. You quickly make a decision.

'One witness isn't too bad' you think to yourself before looking at micheal again and deciding it is time to go for the killshot. 'He'll never be able to look at me again after this'

You hop off the table, and bend over to bring your face level with his "Michael?"

He swallows harshly and barely utters. "y-yes?"

"Give me your hands." he doesn't move and just looks at you with confusion he opens his mouth slightly as if to say something, but nothing comes out.

You giggle to yourself, take his arms, move them out of the way, and sit yourself down on his lap, straddling him.

"I wanna talk. About...... the situation we have going on. May we do that?"

Micheal has his hands up by his head, in a pose that could be taken as him not knowing where to put his hands or surrender.

You take his hands and place them on your hips. He swallows and whimpers his eyes filled with a mixture of fear and lust.

"You stare at me" you roll your hips.

"Oh god" he whines

"You follow me," you roll your hips, adding more pressure. You can feel him hardening underneath you.

He grunts, his breathing choppy

"You're everywhere I go." You grab his shoulders as you roll your hips, building a steady rhythm.

He whimpers. "Wh- i- ahhhh..." he grips your hips tightly.

"I want it to stop." You speed up the motion of your hips against him.

His body involuntarily jerks up against you. His face is somewhere between pleasure and pain.

"Say you will stop." You lean your head back and moan as your movements against him start to affect you. Feeling his hard cock in his trousers rubbing against your pearl through the thin material of your thong.

You bring your head back to face him, bringing your lips up close to his "Say it"

"I'll stop" he moans "I'm sorry, fuck christ I'm sorry"

You bite his bottom lip and hold it between your teeth as you rub yourself against his bulge, getting closer and closer to falling off that cliff.

Michael's hands are clawing into your hips he's pushing down on you as he thrusts upwards face red.

You lean your head back again and let him lead your movements. He pulls your hips against him rough and fast.

"Yes, right there." You give him a few words of encouragement, and it's over for him. He gasps sucking in air like he's drowning his body twitching beneath you.

You roll your hips against him two more times as he whimpers from the overstimulation, and this sends you into your own bliss. You roll your eyes back and tighten your legs around him as you ride out the sensation.

As you come back to your senses, you look around the library. It has since completely cleared out. You can't help but chuckle to yourself, wondering at just what point did that girl from before leave. You quickly hop off micheal's lap, returning to your table to gather your things.

He watches you dumbstruck. After your bag is packed you make your way toward the exit stopping only for a moment at Michael's table.

"Remember what I told you. It stops now" you tap your fingers three times on the table and leave the library.

The next day you're right back to your usual baggy black clothes and emotionless face as you enter the class you share with Michael.

You spot him in his usual seat. He looks up towards you blushes and quickly looks away from you.

Obviously your plan worked. He can't even look at you. You can't help but be a little bit disappointed.

You had hoped you may have to teach him that lesson a few more times.

Part 2

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