#gwil lee fanfiction

[acdeaky]

lovin’ you, hatin’ you, wantin’ you

warning: fluff, angst

note: happy 800 @versdan ! not me (creating two storylines for one idea and only writing the one with the happy ending bc i’m a sucker for love), wrong bitch. i’m so so incredibly sorry for not posting for like a month! i've been busy with work and i’ve really missed writing, so i’m hoping i can do a bit more (at some point) and get more work out for you guys to read :))

word count: 1.9k

THEN

the field was soft and light that morning. the wheat had barely begun to grow and only touched your mid-calf, but it still itches whenever you passed it. the oranges and yellows in the sky made the mornings better. the fresh, crisp air of the open space made the mornings better. gwilym made the mornings better.

and he was there, just a few feet in front of you, guiding you through the wheat field, making a path for you. often, he glanced back, watching as you trudged and trekked over the terrain.

this morning, specifically, it was tough. the lack of a downpour in the late spring weather had caused warm nights and dry days, even drier mud which you almost tripped over everyday. the passage through the field was just a small consequence of having the best view of the mornings, and gwil; you’d keep him with you wherever you went.

the lake was already glistening when you made it to the opening. like always, gwil waited for you before stepping over the hill, offering you his hand - which you gladly accepted - for support. your other hand wrapped around his bicep as you made your way up and over the hill, finding your nestling spot easily enough after so many times.

and the sky was orange, and yellow, and all shades of happiness that you could think of. it reflected off of the lake and across the scenery, covering the trees and grass with colour.

without his knowledge, you always snuck a glance at gwilym. his light brown hair always fluttered in the wind, making what was usually a neat look, a disheveled one.

the sun looked good on him in the morning.

after years of seeing him like this, after coming to this spot almost every weekend of every year for ten years, it never got old; he only seemed to get better every year.

NOW

it was raining. a typical instance for london in the autumn. your usual outing on a friday night was hastly changed to a night in at yours. as always, gwilym brought the food and you the drinks. after he arrived, drenched down to the bone in water, his coat was hung up to dry, his sweater was changed into one that was permenantly at yours and both of you were settled on the sofa.

an age old film was playing in the background as you ate and later cleared away from dinner. it wasn’t long before boxes were thrown away and your places were taken on the sofa. gwil’s back was pressed against the back of the sofa, with your body tucked into his side as one of his hands idly drew patterns on your skin.

as the night grew older, you changed and went through a few episodes of a joint-favourite tv show and your eyes slowly began to close, leaving you asleep on gwil’s shoulder. almost your entire body was cradled into his side, your body turning subconsciously in your sleep to the welcoming warmth of him.

the next morning, you found yourself in your bed sheets, tucked up and away from the patter of rain from outside. it seemed the storm barely let up, keeping the weather steady throughout the night. only a few inches beside you, gwil was still in his slumber, the steady rise and fall of his body telling you he wouldn’t be awake for a while.

the urge to stay next to his warmth was strong, but you wouldn’t allow yourself to do that; it would be too much to add to a definition. a definition of your relationship that was most definitely not, but also was most definitely, defined.

so, instead, you pulled yourself away from what could be - once again - and began brewing some coffee and making breakfast, something completely undefinable.

THEN

the late summer evenings were always your favourite. it could be nine o’clock, but the sun would still be hovering in the sky, painting it with the most gorgeous shades of pink and yellow as the heat of the day had settled and remained, requiring only a thin hoodie to shield yourself from the natural coolness of the night air.

it was only yourself and gwil out at the moment, the others having retreated back into the house to either sleep or grab a drink. neither of you had realised that you were alone, only being interested in each other and your conversation at the time.

gwil was sat straight on the long sofa, his knees knocking into yours often as he swung his legs side to side. you were sat curled up, your body facing gwil and the others - being on the end allowed that - with your knees only ever centimetres away from him.

throughout the night, even before your friends began to leave, you two only seemed interested in each other, having little giggles and whispers to one another while the others conversed together.

during the few days you’d been away for the last couple of weeks of the summer before returning to university, your friends had placed bets on when something - anything - would happen between you and gwil. they kept it hidden, not letting anything slip of what they were up to.

nothing happened, though. you spent the rest of your time away as friends, having your little moments together several times a day.

it wasn’t until the sun had completely set and the pinks and yellows had faded into blues and blacks, with hints of purple, that you and gwil retreated back inside. the fire was left to burn out and the mess of the evening was left until morning.

NOW

with typical london weather, it was pouring. the storm had been growing slowly over the past hour or so and now showed no signs of stopping. the weather had perfectly captured your mood over the past few days; the consequence of ignoring gwilym in turn of sparing your own feelings.

but that would end soon. he was outside your door, his face flushed and cheeks warm, a coat, matching gloves and scarf, haphazardly thrown on, his knuckles rapping at the door. it pulled you from yourself, the TV’s job at drowning out the world with white noise had failed.

you barley even registered that he said your name. it came as a sweet whisper, not even making its way to you, rather past you, and through into your apartment. uninvited, which he was. you had thought the minimal messages and short responses had told him what you wanted to say. but he was here and he was-

“can i come in?” he asked, taking your blank expression and the ignoring of his first word as your continued ignoring of him. you could only nod, moving to the side a little to allow him room to get through the door, closing and locking it quickly after.

gwil had begun to pull of his gloves and scarf, his coat drenched in water. he left it over the back of one of your chairs, hoping by the time he left it would be drier, whenever that may be.

you watched as his methodically made himself comfortable, as he had done many times before. except, this time, he didn’t pour himself and drink or take his usual seat, he remained standing, his body stiff and hostile.

who to speak first, you thought. there were the differences; gwil had arrived at your apartment, but you had been disregarding his presence for the last few days, so it was debatable. and yet, it seemed gwil was in no mood to speak first, so you had too.

“gwil-”

“no,” he started, “please don’t start this bullshit on not being ready to talk, because at this rate i’ll be dead before you finally tell me anything.”

sparing your feelings meant ignoring gwil in hopes of forgetting how to love him so you could be friends again. but, in the short time, the distance had made you feel deeply for him. the disappearance of him during your daily, and weekly, activities you do together was noticeable and you really didn’t want to leave it any longer.

but you also didn’t want to be left heartbroken. so you did what you did, and now, you regret the very idea of it.

“i just don’t know how i’m feeling, okay?” you felt small. even in your house, his presence was so large, so overbearing, you felt like you didn’t belong, like you were the intruder.

there had been many times where you tried. it had been something unspoken between you two for years and you wished, with your entire heart and soul, that you could just finish being the coward and own up to how you feel. yet, your heart refused to work, refused to be compatible with your head and pushed the only person you’ve truly loved.

gwil sighed, hearing those words for what could have been the hundredth time; he’d lost count. but he refused to get angry, refused to be hurt and upset over something you can barely help. “just,,, let me know so I can stop second guessing whatever is going on between us, okay?”

it was soft, not at all what you thought it to be. paired with the way you can only imagine he’s feeling, that should have been a lot harsher, more strident. but that wasn’t gwil, and that wasn’t the way he was with you.

the next few minutes consisted of harsh glares, glancing away and silence which could be cut with a knife. it wasn’t pleasant. yet, you could think of nothing to say.

pained and desperate to end this, you crossed the space between you, so that you stood in front of him, trying to get him to see that you don’t want an argument. your feelings for him are here and there, but most certainly, there. you’d rather keep gwilym than let him go, as pitiful as it sounds. the preference of keeping him in the knowledge that he feels for you like you do him is too strong to let him go as a result of your childish exploits.

so you tell him, more show him. you’ve never felt your touch to be so soft before you held his face, cupping his cheeks into the palm of your hands while your thumbs lightly stroked the outgrown beard that littered his face. gwil hadn’t even registered your touch, thinking it was his imagination and that you hadn’t, after the days previous, just touched his with such softness and kindness.

but you had, and you leaned up towards him, his height being an extreme disadvantage in instigating a kiss. yet, you reached, allowing your lips to rest a top of his with the upmost gentleness.

you felt twelve again, running through the fields in the early morning, your hand barely touching gwil’s as his wide stride took him further away from you. you felt like you were back at that lake, the early morning sun causing the ripples to glisten as the soft pinks and purples kisses the scenery around you.

you felt nineteen again, sat among friends as you laughed together, your body being only inches from gwilym’s, so close that you could feel the rise and fall of his delicate breaths, and his knees as they knocked into your own. you felt the warmth of him and the fire and the remainder of the sun, setting, leaving the world once again with a reminder of purples and blues.

you felt whole and where you were supposed to be.

TAGLIST: @shes-over-bored @i-barely-go-on-online​ @sohoneyspreadyourwings @brian-maybe-not @deakysbabybooty​ @1001-yellow-daffodils​ @retromusicsalad @hardcoredisneynerd @painkiller80​ @goldhoran @scarecrowmax​ @mebeatlized @seesiderendezvous @alright-mrfahrenheit @someone-get-a-medic @miamideacon @chlobo6 @teenagepeterpan @spacedustmazzello @deakysgurl @forever-rogue @xcdelilahxc @keepsdrawings​ @igotsuckedintothevoid @kill4hqueen​ @supersonicfreddie @laedymoon​ @inthedayswhenlandswerefew​ @warriorteam1924 @painandpleasure86 @boomerangbassist @mamaskillerqueen​ @bhxrdy

[pedros-mustache-main]

for reasons wretched & divine

summary: unfit: unfit for duty, unfit for a proper teaching position, unfit for you.

word count: ~14k 

warnings: ~inappropriate~ student/teacher relations, age gap (27 & 19), war related topics, mental illness related topics, some suggestive moments (not 18+ but be mindful), angst, innuendo, language

a/n: what can i say? i’m a hoe for period pieces. i have been laboring over this for an embarrassingly long time so i’m pleased to finally share it with you all! would love to hear your thoughts. also: big big thank you to @joemazzmatazz​ for being an extra set of eyeballs on this one and listening to me ramble about my insecurities every other day! love you long time, sis. xoxo.

(photo: @consumedbygwirst​)

snowshill, gloucestershire, england. 1917.

a deaf ear, that’s why they wouldn’t take him; a deaf ear. he’d tried—god, he’d tried—to convince someone on the medical board that he was fit for duty. he’d come dangerously close to offering a bribe; something, anything, to be able to go and fight alongside his kinsman. but in the end, they’d still slapped his file with a rejection stamp.

gwilym james lee: unfit for duty by reason of physical impairment necessary for proper military response.

the words are engraved on his very heart now. he can’t shake them.

unfit, unfit, unfit.

his hands shake as he gathers the papers littered across his desk. the tremor has plagued him since he left his review with the medical board. why he can’t say for certain, and he doesn’t like to probe the issue too deep, but it’s always there, fluctuating in intensity. a slight waver in his fingers one moment and a full-scale trembling the next. it makes him feel like an old man, his deaf ear, his shaking hands. he’s twenty-seven years old, in the prime of his life, not eighty.

it’s sunday, and the mid-afternoon sun warms him through the window. he’s been in snowshill for a fortnight now yet his students—all twelve of them—remain a mystery. it’s clear they miss their former schoolteacher, but, like most, jefferson lewis has gone to serve his country. the vicar, bless him, had proven to be of more harm than good during his brief tenure as schoolmaster for the last four months, hence, gwilym’s new post: a stone, one-room schoolhouse on the edge of a vast field; a community away from civilized society, away from his father, away from any place he could soil the family name with his failures.

materials gathered, he slips out the front door. he considers locking the place up, but if anyone does break in, there isn’t much to steal. he’d come by this afternoon on a whim. lodging with an elderly woman and her six cats is one of the many things about snowshill that grates on his nerves, and the quiet air of the schoolhouse is a welcome respite from constance’s inane titterings. it’s nearly time for afternoon tea, though, and she’ll be cross if he doesn’t show, so he heads down the dirt lane, hands in his pockets, head bent low.

his steps slow, but do not stop, when the sound of his name reaches his ears. it sounds muffled, far away, as most things do. still, it’s loud enough to give him pause. he throws a glance over his shoulder. two pupils—maryanne clouder and you—walk down the lane. you stroll arm in arm with maryanne, your hair tied back in a long braid. maryanne’s arm is raised in a motion meant to flag him down. begrudgingly, he stops.

“mr. lee!” maryanne is not coy in the way she grabs your wrist and drags you across the road. her cheeks are flushed when she reaches his side, her elbow still circled around yours. “we didn’t see in you sunday service this morning.”

he shifts on his feet, fingers curling around the strap of his satchel. “no, i didn’t attend.”

“any reason?” maryanne’s head tilts to the side, her lower lip caught between her teeth. he stifles a sigh. the girl is young, merely fifteen. she’s cute in a girlish sort of way; one might see her as a pesky sister. still, she tries to catch his attention each day, her eyelashes batting against her sun-chapped cheeks, her legs swinging back and forth at her desk.

“i... overslept,” he lies. 

his eyes flick to your face, which struggles to remain unamused. you’re the eldest of his pupils, nineteen and itching to capture whatever semblance of freedom is left in the world. maryanne is your closest classmate in age, and he rarely sees you without her on your tail. to your credit, you never complain, never seem to mind. he admires that. there had once been a day he’d been like maryanne—so eager to please whoever would give him the time of day—but those days are long gone.

“well, mother asked after you,” maryanne continues. “she’d like to invite you over for supper sunday next—as a proper welcome to snowshill.”

he’s quick to turn her down, as he has two other families since his arrival. “that’s very kind, maryanne, but i’m not sure it would be appropriate.”

“nonsense, sir!” he hopes his eyebrows don’t rise too much in surprise when you jump to maryanne’s aid. “i’ll be there with my niece and my grandfather, and mrs. coulder makes the best roast you’ve had this side of london. you must come.”

from behind his circular, wire-rimmed glasses, he wonders if you can see the way his eyes widen. since arriving at the schoolhouse, he’s known you only as the eldest, wisest, and least rambunctious of his class. you’re quiet, but well-spoken; authoritative, but not domineering. the way you carry yourself—shoulders held straight, chin extended outward, eyes soft yet purposeful—he could easily mistake you for a woman. but you’re not. you’re a girl, his student, and just because you insist he attend sunday supper does not mean you look at him as anything other than your teacher. certainly, he doesn’t look at you as anything other than his student.

he clears his throat. it’s been a long day. he’s tired, on edge. he shouldn’t be thinking about these things.

forcing a tight smile, he gives a nod. “it seems i have no choice.” maryanne claps her hands together as he says, “tell your mother i’ll be there.”

“oh, goody! you won’t regret it, sir, i promise. i’ll be sure to tell hastings not to pester you too much.”

a groan nearly surfaces as he remembers the previous week’s antics of maryanne’s brother. he bites his tongue to keep from retracting his acceptance. “hastings doesn’t bother me, maryanne.” 

her grin turns sly, and she pushes his arm in a playful gesture. “you don’t have to lie, mr. lee.” her tone is slow, drawling, and he has the integrity to blush. his ears feel hot, uncomfortable—and not at all pleasurable. 

you tug on maryanne’s arm. “come on, mary.” stepping away, you jerk your head toward town, a measure of concern hidden beneath your smooth features. “we should leave mr. lee be. we’ve bothered him enough already.”

he doesn’t refute your statement. even if he jogs the rest of the way, he’ll still be late for afternoon tea, and he’ll still bear the brunt of constance’s wrath. in truth, you have bothered him enough already. so he lets you steer maryanne away without another word. at the last moment, he thinks he’s imagined it when you twist to look over your shoulder, your eyes running over him with a modicum of interest. he shakes the feeling off; it must have been his untoward imagination.

by the time he reaches contance’s cottage, a light drizzle has wet the shoulders of his suit jacket. his hair is damp, his glasses foggy. he ducks to avoid smacking his head against the doorframe as he enters. the cottage smells of tea and scones, both fresh, both warm.

from the kitchen, constance’s shrill voice meets his ears. no matter his hearing loss, her voice will never be one he can ignore. “is that you, gwilym?” she putters to the kitchen arch, wrapped tight in her pink robe, tea kettle in hand. when she sees him standing in the doorway, she frowns. “you’re late.”

“yes, yes, i’m sorry.” he sheds his jacket and places it on the wooden banister. rolling up his shirt sleeves, he makes his way to the kitchen. “i was accosted by some of my students.” 

constance laughs, her fleshy cheeks taut with a smile. “oh, child, you make it sound like you loathe those students.”

he says nothing, simply brushes a few crumbs away from his place at the table. a fat cat jumps to take his seat before he can settle, and he sighs. constance chuckles at his misfortune, placing the tea kettle in the center of the table. she shoos the cat for him, and he sits.

“pour for us, won’t you?” she says, turning to gather the scones.

gwilym hesitates. his hand flexes on his thigh, but there’s no point in arguing with constance, so he lifts the kettle. heavy with hot water, the pot wavers in his hand. as he pours, his tremor grows stronger, the pot shaking so violently water makes it everywhere but the teacup. 

“dammit,” he mutters. he puts the kettle down with more force than is strictly necessary; enough that he can feel constance’s eyes slide to his back as he rises to mop up the spilled water. it’s hot as it drenches the napkin, and he takes the moment of pain as punishment. he uses both hands to pour on the second go around. there’s still an unnatural rhythm to the stream of liquid as it descends to the teacups, but it hasn’t ruined the tablecloth, and he supposes that’s all that matters.

“there we are.” constance places a scone—blueberry iced with cream; she always makes his favorites—before him, and she does not mention the spilled water. “who were the rascals that accosted you this time?”

between bites of scone and sips of tea, he answers. “maryanne coulder and [y/n] [y/l/n].”

constance replaces her teacup on its saucer with a knowing nod. “ah, i know the coulder family. good bunch, except for that son of theirs.” her smile widens as his face blanches. “it seems you know him too.”

“he put tacks on my stool this thursday.”

“did you sit on them?”

he shakes his head. “no, but i might’ve.”

“and it would have given all the children a royal laugh.” she takes another sip, challenging him over the rim of her cup. “[y/n] i don’t know so well.”

“she’s in her last year. bright girl.” he doesn’t know why he feels to need to say such a thing. he’s barely given constance any information about his students thus far, but there’s something about the way she’s watching him that makes him speak and speak fast. “she could go on to university if she put her mind to it.”

“nineteen, i think, yes?”

he shrugs. “i think so.” constance hums and reaches over to pet an orange tabby cat. “they’ve wrangled me into sunday dinner next week. the coulders, i mean,” he adds.

“oh?”

“it was impossible to say no.”

“well, i believe it’s about time you show your face around town.” constance lifts a barely visible brow. “you really much try and engage your students more, gwilym. no one likes a sour puss.”

heat rushes up the back of his neck, and he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. she’s right, of course. he hasn’t always been this way, but since the war broke out and his subsequent service denial, he’s been nothing but a gray cloud in every room. he can’t help it.

constance changes the subject as her eyes move to the window at the back of the cottage. “did you know michael livingston went and shot a fox at four o’clock this morning?” she tuts her tongue. “that man! he really is the bane of my existence. a horrid excuse for a neighbor.”

gwilym’s gaze drops to his teacup, and he filters out what he can of constance’s prattle. she’s right. he should work on connecting with his students more. his father is a master at that. he has every student at the university eating out of the palm of his hand by the end of the first term week. gwilym thought he might have the capacity to do the same, but it seems he had been wrong. his students are respectful enough, but aside from maryanne and her silly crush, they are largely unattached. though, it isn’t as if he wants their affection or even their approval...

he’s fine without it. really, he is. 

still, it wouldn’t hurt to at least seem approachable. he’s in snowshill for the foreseeable future. he might as well face it and try to appear like he gives a damn.

at four o’clock sharp the following sunday, he stands outside the coulder household, his fist poised ready to knock on the dark green front door. only he can’t seem to bring himself make his arrival known. 

if he knocks, he has to be sociable. if he doesn’t knock, he can retreat to his attic room and spend the rest of his sunday in peace.

if he knocks, he might begin to chip away at the three-foot-thick barrier he’s placed around himself. if he doesn’t knock, he remains hidden, but protected.

his fist trembles in front of the door.

“mr. lee, are you alright?”

he nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound of your voice. dropping his hand and readjusting his hold on the plate of muffins constance sent along with him, he turns away from the door. you stand halfway down the stone path leading to the home, one hand holding the chubby fingers of a toddler he doesn’t recognize. your other hand is pressed against the back of an old man, his shoulders bent with age, hands wobbling as he uses a cane.

gwilym swallows and looks away. “oh, hello. i just...” he can’t think of an excuse, so he, lamely, settles for the truth. “well, if i can be frank with you, miss [y/l/n], i was—am—feeling a bit apprehensive.”

you just smile and lift the toddler from the ground. with the girl on your hip, you come to stand by his side. he shifts when he catches a whiff of your shampoo. you glance up at him, your smile lifting, before knocking on the front door yourself.

“there’s nothing to be nervous about, sir,” you whisper in the lull between your knock and the door opening. “’s just maryanne.”

he isn’t certain, but he thinks you’re teasing him. the possibility makes his skin crawl in more ways than one. he hates that.

saved the duty of response, he pulls his mouth into a tight smile as the door opens. mrs. coulder, flanked by her daughter, stands in the threshold, brightly patterned apron snug around her waist.

“oh, mr. lee!” she stretches out her hand, and he shakes it, the plate of muffins tipping precariously in his opposite palm. “we’re so glad you decided to join us.”

“thank you for the invitation, mrs. coulder.” he waits until you’ve passed with your grandfather to cross the threshold. 

“please, call me vivianne. can i take that for you?” she nods to the plate of muffins, eyes sparkling all the while.

“yes, thank you. from constance pruder,” he adds. “she told me to tell you hello.”

“how kind of her!” vivianne takes the muffins from his arms and gestures toward the back of the house with her chin. “my husband, john, is out back. why don’t you go and chat until supper’s ready. he is ever so eager to meet you.”

gwilym fights to hold back his cringe. fathers—he doesn’t do well with them. not his own, not anyone else’s. it’s just another item on his long list of dislikes and annoyances. 

but he’s a guest, and he really does want to try. so he fixes his tie and follows vivianne’s directions to the back garden. 

john is sat on a wrought-iron chair, his hands braced against the arms, round face pulled tight in a frown as he watches maryanne play with the toddler on the grass. he stands when gwilym ducks to step outside. he extends a hand, his grip painful.

“lee,” he barks in greeting before dropping back to his seat.

the old man—gwilym assumes he’s your grandfather—twists from his place in a similar chair. “forgive me if i don’t get up, son.” the way his fingers waver in the air makes gwilym’s stomach clench; his own hand shakes slightly as he touches the old man’s palm. “name’s richard.”

“sit down.” john points to a bench against the house. “i’ve got questions for you.”

gwilym hesitates, caught bent at the waist as he goes to sit. his hands are firm on his thighs, and unwittingly, his eyes flick to yours. he’s surprised to see you already watching him, your fingers twirling in the blades of grass around your legs. when the moment has stretched far too long, he sits and smooths his sweaty palms against his trousers.

“i hope easy questions, sir,” he says. his tone is light, but his teeth are gritted.

“easy enough if you tell the truth.” john withdraws a silver cigarette case from his breast pocket. jamming a butt between his teeth, he offers the case to gwilym, who declines with a shake of his head. john puffs on the cigarette for a moment before saying, “why aren’t you off fighting, lee? all the other lads from gloucestershire are doing their part. what makes you special enough to stay away from the battle?”

to say gwilym is shocked by john’s pointed question would be an understatement. the force of the query, spoken in harsh, biting tones, is enough to tilt him sideways in his chair. he’s sure his face is red, his chest tight from forgetting to release the breath he holds in his lungs. his hands curl against his trousers, his knuckles gone white with rage.

“well, sir,” he drawls, careful to keep his tone even. more than anything, he wants to stand, leave, and slam the door on his way out for good measure. his ears burn with embarrassment. “i would certainly be fighting if i could.”

it’s an honest answer, the truth if ever he’s spoken it. what he wouldn’t give to be away from snowshill, rushing the battle field with his brothers-at-arms. what he wouldn’t give to be worthy of a moment’s notice when he returned from war. 

but he’s not worthy and he’s not fighting. he’s stuck in the back garden of his most precocious and love-sick student, the sun beating down on his brow with an undue heat, his muscles twitching with the restraint it takes to keep from decking snowshill’s most prominent lawyer. 

john narrows his eyes across the cobblestone patio. “if you could? what’s wrong with you?”

gwilym says nothing. red—the color of blood, ambulance sirens, and fire—flashes before his eyes.

“in my day,” john continues. “we fought no matter our delicate sensibilities.” he huffs around his cigarette, his chest ballooning like a baboon. “i’d say that i—”

“mr. coulder!” your voice is sharp, though not unkind, when you break into coulder’s soliloquy. gwilym’s eyes snap from john’s throbbing forehead muscle to you. you stand beside your grandfather, your skirt tangled around your legs in your apparent haste to stand. there’s grass pressed against your knees, and a faint tinge of red on your cheeks. “i believe i heard mrs. coulder calling for your just now,” you say, sweetening the blow of your interruption with a smile.

john looks to the open door, a pucker forming between his brows. “oh,” he mumbles, rising to his feet. “i’d better go see what that’s about.” he ambles on bowed legs into the house, and gwilym is left to pick of the pieces of his fractured dignity.

he dares glance at you. your eyes lift from the ground slowly, your fingers curling along the hem of your cardigan. when you meet his gaze, you look away first, as if you’re scared—scared to look at him, scared to admit you had to rescue him like a drowning puppy. he swallows hard and stands, though he isn’t sure why. he just can’t stay sitting anymore.

vivianne pops her head around the frame of the back door. “come come, everyone. supper is ready! mr. lee, you sit beside john. he has so much he wishes to discuss with you.” she grins and waves him inside, and who is he to refuse her?

later that night, when his back is pressed against his firm mattress, moonlight washing through the attic room, gwilym feels the overwhelming urge to cry. he can’t remember the last time he shed a tear. after his mother’s passing—god rest her soul—tears have seemed... pointless. they didn’t bring his mother back; they won’t cure his deaf ear or his tremor, won’t stop people like john coulder from asking questions.

still, his chest aches. there’s something in his lungs scratching to get out. it rises in his throat like a lump and bubbles forth in a broken sob. he presses his hand to his mouth, feels a hot tear slide down his cheekbone.

god, he hates it here.

really, he hates it everywhere. there’s nowhere he can go to escape from himself.

class on monday is disjointed. 

he didn’t sleep well, tossing and turning the whole night long, his dreams plagued with images of his mother, the war, you staring at him like a broken man. he woke several times in a cold sweat, his bedclothes drenched and sticky. 

his students bear the brunt of his poor night’s rest. he is tired to the very core of his being, and it shows in the way he waves hastings away after one-too-many attempts at the same arithmetic problem. it shows in the way he sits at his desk before the class, rubbing at this throbbing temples, the echo of the previous night’s supper ringing in his ears. though the sentiment is there most days, today he truly does not care if his students learn or not. he just wants a stiff drink, maybe a quick shag, something to take his mind off it all.

shifting in his seat, he withdraws the pocket watch snug in his trouser pocket. the gold around the clasp is worn with decades of use, and when he unlocks the face, the watch within is slightly obscured by a thin crack over the number five. still, despite its flaws, the clock ticks on. there’s a metaphor there, he knows, about himself: worn, broken, but still working. he’s too jaded to believe it.

he rises from his chair. the legs scrape against the floor. “it’s lunch,” he announces, breaking the heavy silence of the classroom with his deep voice. “take your things and go home. class is dismissed for the rest of the day.”

from her place in the front row, maryanne bats her eyelashes in confusion. “what’s the occasion, sir?” she sits straight at her desk, eager to please, panting for some drip of his attention.

gwilym doesn’t have any attention to spare for maryanne, for any of his students, really. his eyes flick from maryanne to the open window to you. he clears his throat and looks away. “it’s a nice day out, maryanne,” he says. “we shouldn’t waste it inside. don’t you agree?”

she grins and nods as she hastily gathers her things together. “oh, yes, of course!”

his jaw goes tight as he says, “thank your mother again for inviting me to supper yesterday. it was very kind of her.”

scarlet blush crawls over maryanne’s cheeks. she holds her books snug against her chest, her shoes dancing back and forth in nerves across the hardwood floor. “you are more than welcome any time, sir.”

he nods once, glancing toward the open schoolhouse door. she gets the picture; their conversation is through. grabbing hastings hand, she drags her brother out of the building and into the sunshine, leaving gwilym in blessed silence. he drops to his chair with a groan, cradling his forehead between his pointer finger and thumb. outside he can here his pupils laughing in the field. he removes his hands from his face and looks out the window-lined wall. hands crossed in his lap, he watches the children play, wonders what it feels like to live so carefree. 

had he ever been like that as a child: wild, uninhibited? he must’ve been—surely. his long-term memory is poor, brought on by a hard tumble he’d taken from a horse at an early age, but memory impairment aside, he wasn’t always this sullen, this removed. surely.

“mr. lee?”

he jolts at the sound of your voice, twisting in his chair to see you standing before his desk, a crease of worry between your brows. he frowns. “miss [y/l/n]? have you been there long?”

you shake your head, and a lock of hair falls out from behind your ear. you tuck it back, your eyes falling momentarily to the floor before you say, “no. well, yes. i was gathering my things, and you looked... pensive.”

he sits upright, and the urge to smooth his hair works its way to his fingers. he adjusts his glasses instead. “pensive? that doesn’t bode well.”

at his half-hearted attempt at levity, the corner of your mouth lifts. you step closer to his desk. “i wanted to be sure you were alright after supper last evening.”

his gut clenches at the memory, the shame of john coulder’s interrogation, at having to be saved by his own student, at that student being you. “i’m fine, truly,” he says, an edge to his voice he doesn’t mean.

still, you push further. “it’s just that mr. coulder... he’s not very diplomatic when it comes to asking questions. i thought maybe you—”

for the second time, gwilym stands from his chair with the intention of ending the conversation. he will not discuss sunday’s supper with you. the memory is still too raw, and his dream of you coming to his rescue is thoroughly and completely humiliating. yet when he stretches to his full height and sees you standing there, the most earnest expression of concern he’s ever seen on another face, he is powerless to stop himself from admitting the truth. he shoves his hands in his pockets, rolling his tongue over his teeth in thought.

“your concern is kind. mr. coulder’s questions were ill-phrased but not unwarranted. the men of this country hold a heavy duty right now. i suspect he was only asking out of patriotism.”

you blink, lips pressed together. he’d thought you’d be satisfied with his answer, but it appears you are not. the crease in your brow deepens. “sir, he was very unkind to you.” you speak as if he didn’t realize, as if he didn’t wet his pillow with tears of shame and hurt.

he nods. “perhaps.”

“it’s not fair, though. i’m sure whatever your reasons are for staying away from the front are valid.”

“again, your kindness does you credit.”

“i’m not trying to flatter you, mr. lee. i’m only speaking the truth.”

gwilym hesitates before saying, “i did not assume you were the flattering type.”

you shake your head. “i’m not.”

he’s not sure if it’s just the warm spring breeze drifting through the open window, but the air feels heavier than it did moments before. his eyes search yours. searching for what he can’t say, but he searches nonetheless. you hold his gaze until the faintest of blushes rises to your cheekbones. 

“i must thank you, though, miss [y/l/n], for coming to my aid last evening.” he’s surprised by his confession. it should drive him to his knees in embarrassment that he must concede to his student after they help him with a man twice his age. he is embarrassed, but something—manners, the desire to replicate your honesty, your doe eyes—makes him say it. “i am not sure i would have answered mr. coulder’s questions with a cool head, but you showed great tact. i’m indebted to you for that.”

he bites his tongue. too far, perhaps. a teacher should never be indebted to his student. least of all his oldest, brightest, and yes, he will admit it: most attractive student.

your chest lifts as you draw in a breath through your teeth. “well, i know a way you can repay me.”

his eyes widen, his throat seizing around his adam’s apple. he removes his hands from his pockets and shuffles a stack of unmarked papers on his desk. his hand wavers as he moves, though he’s not sure if it’s due to his tremor or an unwarranted image of you in his arms flashing through his mind.

too far. too far. you’re just a student. he’s just your teacher.

“what would you have me do?” it’s stupid to ask, to play along, but he can’t help it when your hands are clasped behind your back, the ribbon at the end of your braid falling over your shoulder. 

“there’s a benefit next week,” you say, and your face eases into a smile. “it’s for the wounded soldiers, and i’m in charge of the bake sale. my grandfather is too old to help and my niece is too young, so i thought perhaps you might like to help me? i’m sure more people will stop by if you’re there. everyone’s still curious about the new schoolmaster.”

gwilym stills, his eyes falling on you. not for the first time, he wonders if there’s something beneath your gaze, beneath your question. there can’t be; there isn’t. just like he is not interested in you, you are not interested in him.

unless...

he clears his throat and looks down at his desk. he brushes a stray pencil to the side. it rolls, rolls, rolls, stops against a heavy book. “i suppose i can make the time to assist.” he meets your eyes despite his gut telling him not to entertain this foolishness any longer. “for you, miss [y/l/n].”

your face clears in something akin to shock. you blink rapidly, your eyelashes fluttering against your freckled cheekbones. for a moment, gwilym imagines maryanne in the moments past, batting her own eyes. it hadn’t made his gut twist like this.

“it’s not for me,” you whisper, and the breathy sound of your voice sends a rush of blood from his head to his manhood. “it’s for the soldiers.”

“yes,” he replies. your gaze is locked on his, deep and probing. “the soldiers.”

a pebble hits the window with a sharp ting, and you both startle—you with a gasp, he with a muttered curse. turning, he stares out the window long enough to see a few of his male students playing a game of stickball with pebbles. a sigh shudders through his chest. no one had seen, had felt the thick tension in the room. thank heaven.

when he turns back to ask you how he can help before the benefit, you are gone.

the day of the benefit dawns bright and clear. it’s warm despite the month. april is generally cool and balmy, but gwilym breaks a sweat as he carries arrangement after arrangement of flowers to a little red wagon outside the cottage. constance sits perched on her portable stool, a cane between her legs as she watches him work.

“be careful with those, gwilym james,” she chides. “i spent all week and won’t have you breaking a single one.”

“i’m being careful, constance.” he huffs as he lowers a bouquet of blue hydrangeas to the wagon. the glass rattles as it squeezes between the dozens of other vases. the wagon is full to bursting of flowers of all kinds and where constance unearthed such of a treasure trove of flowers, he cannot be sure. “you truly expect to sell all these in one afternoon?”

constance draws in a sharp breath and whacks the butt of her cane against his shin. “how dare you!” he yelps, clutching his offended leg, but for once finds it easy to match her sly smile. “my flowers are sought after in the next three counties!”

“i’m sure they are,” he says, chuckling at her twisted features. 

she stands, snapping her stool shut with ease. with her chin tilted, she gestures with her cane to the road. “we’ll be late. you know i detest being late.”

rolling his eyes, gwilym grabs the wagon handle from the ground and gently maneuvers the vehicle onto the dirt road leading to the center of the village. the flowers jostle and clang as the wagon dips with the unevenness of the road, but the arrangements hold steady. constance’s steps are slow and small, so he shrinks his stride to match hers. a whisper of a breeze cools the sweat lingering on the back of his neck, and he glances at the cloudless sky. no one could have asked for better weather.

“i hear you are to assist miss [y/l/n] in her confection sale today?”

gwilym nearly trips over a rut in the road, but catches himself at the last moment. he adjusts his hold on the wagon handle, his hand trembling even curled against the cool metal. “yes—she had no one else to help her.”

constance’s eyebrows lift. “ah.”

“you did tell me to be more kindly with my pupils.”

“that i did.”

“then why do you look so displeased?”

“i’m far from displeased, child,” she says with a laugh. “merely cataloging this moment for later.”

gwilym doesn’t ask for further explanation. he doesn’t want to know. it’s bad enough that he spent the entire morning primping and preening over his own reflection. god, he’d felt like such an idiot. 

but he couldn’t deny the urge to at least try and put some effort into his appearance. he would be spending the day by your side, after all. not that it mattered...

by the time he rolls constance’s wagon into the village square, the benefit is well under way. snowshill is a small parish; only one-hundred-twenty-three residents, yet it seems every soul has turned out for the event. colorful streamers whip through the mid-morning breeze. a gaggle of musicians sitting underneath a shade tree amble through a litany of well-known tunes. the baker twins, annie and joy, race past gwilym, hand in hand as they head for the dunking booth. he pauses in his study of the square. there’s happiness here. despite it all—the war, the fathers and brothers and husbands so far away, the uncertainty of the future—the villagers have still found a reason to smile. surely, he can to.

“i’ll take this.” constance pulls gwilym from his thoughts as she pries the wagon handle from his hand. “you go over there,” she adds, nodding to a booth on his left. “miss [y/l/n] is waiting.”

he ignores the telling sparkle in her eyes. she can see right through him, the old bat, see straight to the part of his heart he so desperately wants—no, needs—to ignore. 

chasing the thoughts away, he turns to locate the corner set aside for the bake sale. it isn’t hard. in an uncomfortable but familiar sort of way, he’s drawn to you, and he finds you easily. at the base of the church gardens, you’re already hard a work. your hair is loose around your shoulders, and the sun glints off a pearl barrette clipping a portion of the strands back. stepping forward, he allows his eyes, for the briefest of moments, to run over your frame. your forest green dress is cinched at the waist with a wide gold band, accentuating your curves. the sleeves of the dress, which fall to your elbows, are sheer, and he can see your skin glistening beneath the sway of shadows and sun. you’re lovely, breathtaking even. he hates the way his heart gallops in his chest at the sight, like he’s a love-struck schoolboy. in reality, he is your teacher and a grown man. the thought alone makes him advert his eyes from the picture of you, dressed well and elegantly, smiling as you speak to a customer.

“there you are!” you twist away from the pie, cake, and cookie laden table to grace him with a brilliant smile. knowing you first and foremost as the level-headed student who rarely speaks save to impart pearls of wisdom, the sight of your wide smile is near blinding. “i was beginning to think you’d forgotten.”

he shakes his head. “never.”

“good.” you point up the hill to the church. “the rest of the pies are in the kitchen. bring them down, won’t you?”

he does so without complaint, returning to the booth with a cherry pie in one hand and a rhubarb pie in the other. he places them on the table with care before asking, “who made all these?”

you shrug and straighten the sign hanging from the makeshift portico attached to the table. “mostly the older ladies of the parish. though,” you say, your eyes sliding to his with mischief. “i did make those.” you point to a small plate of chocolate chip cookies. “you can steal one if you like. i won’t tell.”

gwilym narrows his eyes. “how do i know if i can trust you?”

you laugh—a clear, bell-like laugh—and it goes straight to his gut. “try it and you’ll just have to find out.”

you sit, your attention caught by the toddler scooting about on the a picnic blanket behind the table. gwilym hesitates before taking one of the cookies. it snaps in his hands, and he nudges your arm with his knuckles. you look over your shoulder, glancing at the half of a cookie melting between his fingers.

“take the other half,” he says. “that way we both get in trouble. if i’m going to go down, i’ll take you with me.”

your cheeks color, and he wonders where your mind has gone, but then you take the cookie and your fingers brush his palm. a jolt shoot through his arm, but he ignores it, sitting in the seat beside you. 

“it’s very good,” he says after swallowing the dessert. “chocolatey.”

you smile in thanks then reach out, your thumb nearing his cheek. he stills, uncertain if he should move back and risk offense or lean in and risk it all. you swipe your thumb across the corner of his mouth, your touch fleeting but like fire all the same. sitting back, your grin widens.

“you had a bit of chocolate on your lip,” you explain.

“oh.” he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and looks the opposite direction. 

few villagers have meandered over to the bake sale booth, but the day is early yet. he dares relax and lean back in his chair. he unbuttons his suit-jacket, letting the breeze waft through his sleeves and around his torso. when he turns his head to look at you, he finds you already watching, your eyes trained against his chest which strains against his snug waistcoat. all thoughts evaporate until your eyes lift to his and you blush.

he clears his throat. “uh—the child?” he questions, pointing to the toddler on the ground. she’s chubby, her legs stumpy beneath a yellow day dress and bloomers. “who does she belong to?”

you lift the baby and set her on your knee. the little girl smiles at him and leans against your shoulder, her mouth gnawing around her fist. “my sister,” you say. “she’s away, so grandfather and i are left to take care of eliza.”

“and where is your grandfather?”

“he’s with his mates. they’ve set up shop outside the pub and are more than likely pestering anyone who will listen with their own war stories.”

“he seems like a kind man.”

“oh, he is!” you grin and return eliza to her spot in the shade. “after my parents died, he took me and peggy—that’s my sister—in without a moment’s hesitation.”

before gwilym can question you any further, a familiar voice hits his ears. he rises alongside you as vivianne coulder draws close to the booth. 

“oh, look how darling! [y/n], you’ve really outdone yourself!” vivianne eyes the sweets with interest. “however am i to make such a choice? there’s simply too many good things here to choose from.”

“you can always buy multiples, mrs. coulder.” you press your palms against the table, leaning forward to watch as vivianne surveys the array of food. gwilym’s eyes stray toward your backside, which is pushed out, until vivianne breaks his train of thought.

“mr. lee, how did you get mixed up in a bake sale?” she asks, dropping a few coins in your palm as she makes her purchase. “i might have thought you’d participate in the dunk tank like my john.”

as if to punctuate her question, a bell across the square rings followed by a cheer and a splash. someone hit the bullseye.

“mr. lee owed me a favor,” you say. “i had to watch the class one afternoon while he tended to a feral dog in the yard.”

the story isn’t a falsehood, but it’s certainly not why he stands beside you now. he’d almost forgotten about that dog, but perhaps the mangy mutt had been a godsend after all. it certainly kept you from having to admit the real reason for his appearance at the bake sale.

vivianne giggles behind her gloved hand. “how brave!”

your hand, ungloved and warm, lands on his arm. your fingertips squeeze the flesh of his bicep nearly imperceptibility but he feels the gentle pressure like a vice around his skin. “yes,” you continue, seemingly oblivious to the way your touch wrecks him. “he was quite brave.”

vivianne chats with you a moment more—something about maryanne and her sixteenth birthday celebration—but he can barely focus. he’s unnaturally hot under his jacket, despite the cover of shade protecting the table of sweets. he wants to shake your hand from his arm, loosen your hold around his gut, but he doesn’t want to appear rude. he doesn’t want to push you away.

so he stands still. he lives with your fingers against the curve of his shoulder like a man readying himself for execution. his jaw is tight, his eyes focused on the people milling about the square.

when vivianne finally ambles away, he feels free enough to step out of your grasp. he releases a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. his eyes dart from the ground to your face. you stare at him, your own eyes wide and lips parted ever-so slightly. god, he could kiss you. maybe it would quell the fire in his stomach and get you out of his head. maybe the simple touch would fix all the worn-out and tired thought swirling through his head. he would give into his desire but there’s too many people around and maybe that’s a good thing. he’s not sure he could stop himself if he started.

blessedly, a trio of older women approach the table. he jerks his attention away from you and finds a modicum of solace in auctioning off the bake sale items to whomever will purchase them. the faster the table is clear, the sooner he can go home and take a cold shower.

fate, it seems, has other plans for him because it is not until past-dusk that the charity benefit ends. the last of the pies have been sold off, your niece dragged home by your grandfather when the hour gets too late. gwilym helps you break down the table in silence, the only sound a bird twittering in its nest overhead and the rumble of the dunk tank being hauled away. you look tired, and he’s sure he does too. on the whole, he enjoyed himself. you are pleasant company and skilled at carrying on conversation. in truth, he finds himself wondering if he could spend every waking moment simply sitting by your side. the busy-bodies and children who came by the booth brought him small smiles, as well. the occasional woman called him handsome, even though her age well surpassed his own, and it buoyed his neglected heart. mothers thanked him profusely for his work at the school. he had not realized how much his students seemed to appreciate his efforts in the classroom. on more than one occasion, he’d left the schoolhouse under the impression the vast majority of his pupils were plotting his demise for being so sullen and boring. but perhaps not...

with your aid, he carries the booth’s table to the basement of the church. it is cool in the dark hallway of the building. his shoes sound against the stone floor as he searches for a light switch with nothing but his gaze. he hears a sharp bang followed by a muffled curse.

“you alright?” he asks, casting a glance over his shoulder. he can barely make out your form what with the dim hall and your form covered by night.

you adjust your hold on the end of the table. “yes, i’m fine. i bumped into the doorframe ‘s all.”

“where do we put this table then?”

“the vicar got it out for me early this morning. i suppose we could simply leave it by the pantry in the kitchen.”

“i’m afraid i don’t know where that is.”

he swears he can see you smile despite the low light. “perhaps i should have led the way.”

he mirrors your grin. “perhaps you should have.”

nodding to the left, you say, “that way. down the hall and first door on the right. i left it open.”

with some trouble, he manages to make it to the kitchen, though he too runs into the doorframe of the hallway and you giggle at his misfortune. together, you lower the table against the kitchen wall and step back. you brush your hands together with an air of finality.

“well,” you say with a sigh. “nothing like a good day’s work.”

gwilym turns to look at you in the darkness of the kitchen. a beam of moonlight filters through a single window in the corner of the room. it falls agains the back of your head, shrouding you in a halo of yellowy light. you’re looking at him, too; he can feel it. you look soft, and you stand close enough to touch. he keeps his hands at his sides; they tremble against the creases of his trousers.

“thank you, miss [y/l/n],” he whispers. “i needed a day like today.”

silence reigns supreme for the longest of moments. universes are born and wither in the space between his confession and your response.

but then your lips are on his. 

your hands grasp the material around his shoulders, your nails pressing through the fabric in earnest. he can think of nothing else to do—nothing else he should do—other than remain planted firm on the stone floor of the church kitchen. he itches to hold you, to weave his fingers through your hair, and move his mouth over yours. you taste sweet, like cookies, for the brief moment you claim him as your own. still, he is level-headed enough, rational enough, scared enough, to not react—no matter how much he wants to.

you pull back, swallowing hard. your fingertips skim over your mouth. you stare at him, starlight caught in your eyelashes, then run from the basement before he can say a word.

you do not come to class for several days. he calculates that it must be three days you’ve skipped out on him—no, on school. really, he can’t be certain how long you’ve been gone. since he felt the touch of your lips on his, he has thought of little else. the memory consumes him, threatening to swallow him whole. it distracts him when he turns around from the blackboard to see your seat empty and when he dismisses class at the end of the day and does not see you gathering your belongings with your elegant movements. he has lost track of time and of order. at night, he lays awake and stares at his ceiling, his hands clasped behind his head. he runs the moment over and over again, replaying and reframing how it could have gone different.

he could have pushed you away the second you moved closer. at least then he would be able to claim he tried to be a professional, that he tried to distance himself from his interest in his own student.

he could have kissed you back. he’d wanted to. he’d wanted to so badly. he’d wanted to so badly the mere thought of how he’d kept his hands still at his sides makes his brain clench with discomfort.

the thursday after the benefit, after yet another day without your presence in the cramped schoolhouse, he drags his feet to your home. he’s reluctant to go, knowing he should allow you to come back on your own time. whatever it was that possessed you to kiss him, he knows you probably regret the action as much as he regrets not seizing the moment for himself.

you live on the outskirts of snowshill on your grandfather’s sheep farm. the dirt road leading to the white farmhouse is clogged with tufts of fresh grass, revealing its lack of traffic. a handful of hens peck the ground beneath a sprawling oak tree. a flat swing hanging from a thick branch sways back and forth with the afternoon breeze. it’s idyllic—removed from the rest of the world, even as far as snowshill goes, but idyllic.

he’s out of breath from the walk by the time he reaches the front door, but gwilym is self-aware enough to know he would out of breath regardless of his mode of transportation. he’s nervous. his hands shake, and there’s an incessant ringing in his deaf ear. he waits, unsure if anyone on the other side of the bright red door has heard his knock.

“mr. lee?”

the sound, garbled by the blood rushing to his ears and the tilt of his head, comes from his right. he twists to see you standing at the corner of the house. there’s a basket in your hand; it’s empty, save for a pair of small scissors which catch the sun. your blue-checkered dress is faded, the sleeves bunched around your elbows. one of the pockets on either hip seems weighed down with an invisible object. he stops his perusal and notes the clear frown on your face.

he steps forward, huffing out a rushed “miss [y/l/n]”, and nearly topples off the rail-less stoop. he catches himself at the last moment, his hand darting out to press against the frame of the farmhouse.

you gasp, dropping your basket, and rush forward, but when you see he’s righted himself, you stop. “goodness,” you say. “that would’ve been a bad tumble. i’ve told grandfather dozens of times that we need a railing.”

gwilym chuckles in a lame attempt to save face. he takes the three steps to the safety of solid earth and crosses to stand before you. you blink up at him, your lips pinched. there’s a mysterious lack of sparkle in your gaze, and he wonders if he’s the cause of its disappearance. 

“you’ve not been to school,” he says.

you shake your head as you turn to pick your discarded basket. “no.”

“why?”

you lift a slim brow. “isn’t the answer obvious, sir?”

“no.”

you hold his stare, and he is the one to look away first. a chill settles around his spine despite the warmth of the day. he wrings his hands together as he looks over the field.

“if that’s all, sir—”

his eyes snap back to yours. “no!” he winces at the desperation in his tone and tries again. “no. i think we should talk, miss [y/l/n], about what happened at the benefit.”

this time you do look away, your cheeks tinged with blush. you gesture toward the meadow behind your home. “i was going to walk down to the river. i need to replenish our herb stock. you may join me if you like.”

“that’s fine,” he says, nodding. “you lead the way.”

the beginning of your walk is spent in silence. the meadow grass tangles around the hem of his trousers, staining them green with leftover dew. you trail ahead of him, your basket skimming over the weeds and grasses like a sailboat in an ocean of nature. he realizes you are without shoes, and the sight of your bare calves and ankles sends his thoughts elsewhere.

you lead him into a grove of cherry and birch trees. pink petals cover the ground and obscure the sky. it’s a haze of color here—cherry blossoms and green leaves, the flutter of an anxious bird’s wings, the clear but rushing waters of the creek. he stops when you do and inhales deeply. strangely, tears prick the corners of his eyes. he could stay here, he thinks, in this picturesque place—no one to bother him or question him or loathe his very existence. 

“i never knew snowshill boasted such a beautiful spot,” he admits.

from your place crouched against the ground, your voice is muffled. “yes. i keep it secret”—your voice is clearer when you rise and look over your shoulder—“from nearly everyone. it’s too special to share with the world.”

you lean down again and use your small pair of scissors to snip at a collection of herbs growing along the creekbed. gwilym dares take a step closer, and he points to the herbs in your hand.

“what are those?”

“mint. it grows well by the water.” you lift the bundle. “would you like some?”

instead of taking the offer, he squats beside you. his knee, bent as it is, almost brushes your elbow. he plucks a small leaf of the mint and puts it on his tongue.

you watch as he allows the herb’s flavor to coat his tongue. “my mother used to make very good lemonade with mint.”

“my mother too.” he clears his throat, glances at the trickling stream, then back at you. “miss [y/l/n], about the benefit...”

to your credit, you do not shy away from his pointed gaze. your jaw tightens, but you maintain eye-contact, and he wonders if you can see all the thoughts racing through his head as he looks at you.

“i’m sorry if you misunderstood my gratefulness for our interactions at the coulder dinner and at the benefit. my intention was not to give you any untoward thoughts or—”

“why are you not fighting? in the war?” you interrupt with ease and do not blink as you question him.

despite his initial shock at the change of topic, he finds himself rushing to answer, to explain himself—though to anyone else, he would balk and turn away. “my right ear is deaf.”

“oh.”

“has been for a long time,” he continues. “apparently, good hearing is the mark of a good soldier.”

“and your hands?”

“my hands?”

“why do they tremble?”

at this, gwilym does balk. he stands, running the hands in question through his hair as he turns his back to you. “my hands do not tremble,” he says, his tone close to seething.

you stand to your full height, which isn’t much next to him. “yes they do. i’ve seen them—in class, at the benefit. were you denied service because of that, too?”

he openly glares at you, but he answers truthfully. “no. it developed after my denial.”

“oh,” you say again.

“really, miss [y/l/n], this is not why i wanted to speak with you.”

“i know. you wanted to talk about us.”

“there is no us. there can be no us.”

“i disagree.”

“yes, you would because you are a child, and you don’t understand that you and i giving in to whatever is between us would mean disaster.”

the slap that lands across his cheek echoes in the small grove of trees. he whirls, clutching his face as he stares at you in disbelief. his ear is ringing again, and it’s painful this time, but he knows he deserves it.

your chest heaves when you next speak. “i’m not a child.”

he knows this. he’s seen you as a woman—dreamt of you as a woman—too many times to count.

dropping his hand from his face, he nods. “i know. forgive me.”

you’re quiet, thinking, then you open your mouth to speak.

“i don’t think you realize, gwilym, how good you are for this community.” the sound of his name on your lips is sinful, threatening to tear his focus away from your words. “in the short time you’ve been here, i’ve seen the children in that schoolhouse learn more than they ever did before you came. you’re truly teaching them about the world, not just maths and reading and science. why, even last week hastings actually apologized for pulling on my braids in the past. he told me that you taught him that.”

gwilym frowns. “how? i never told—”

“they watch you. he told me you apologized to mark after you were short with him one afternoon. he told me he wanted to be like you—not his father, you.”

“miss [y/l/n]—”

“and my grandfather? he so admires you. i think he sees himself in you, after he came home from the way. he told me you’re very brave. and constance swears you have the gentlest soul built for caring for others. you may hide it, but she knows that you—”

“that’s enough—please.”

you fall silent, unshed tears washing over your eyes before you say, “don’t you see, gwilym? you walk around with such a weight on your shoulders, but all anyone wants to do—all i want to do—is ease the load. you’re worth that.”

he shakes his head and swallows hard. your speech all but shatters his heart. more than anything, he wants to believe you, wants to believe that he’s good for something. but the pesky thoughts in the back of his mind grip him hard. he can’t shake them.

unfit, unfit, unfit.

“i kissed you that night because i think you are wonderful.” your face cracks into a smile, vibrant and gut-wrenching. “wonderful and smart and handsome and—”

he puts a stop to your words. winding his arms around your back, he pulls you flush against his chest, his mouth lowering to capture yours. you’re stiff at first, in shock by his sudden change of heart, but then you relax, your arms lifting to circle his neck, drawing him ever closer. his lips explore yours with desperation, the weeks he’s spent pining after you crashing to the surface in an explosion of want and need. he moves his hands to cradle your face, and your hands skim to his shoulder blades, your fingers pressed into the skin beneath his waistcoat and shirt. you taste like fresh mint. it’s all he can do to not lower you to the bed of blossom petals on the ground and ravish you until the sun dips below the horizon.

he pulls away, breathing heavy, his forehead rolling against yours. “[y/n]...” you suck in a sharp breath through your teeth, and he realizes it must be the first time he’s spoken your name aloud in your presence. “[y/n],” he whispers again. “we can’t.”

you fist your hands in his shirtsleeves. “don’t say that. you feel it as much as i do.”

nodding, he moves to hold your waist. the feel of your body under his hands is heaven. you are divine, like an goddess escaped from la primavera. “i do,” he admits. “i feel it.”

he bends his head to kiss you again. the touch is softer this time, more hesitant, but when he gathers the nerve to pull you closer, your hips against his, you whimper into his mouth, and the sound pulls him back to reality. he practically trips backward, breathing labored, thoughts muddled, and body rigid. 

the space between you swims with lust and desire and yearning. your lips are plump, your cheeks flushed. your eyelids flutter, seemingly dazed, but not at all confused. you know what you want; he knows what he wants.

“we must keep it secret,” he says.

you nod.

“i won’t be able to touch you or—or be with you in public.”

“i know.”

“i could get in a lot of trouble if anyone finds out.”

you flinch at this, briefly looking to the side. “i know.”

shaking his head, he mutters “god help me, it would be worth it even if i did” as he crosses the space between you and crashes his lips to yours once more.

there is no hesitation now. he moves with purpose and you follow his lead. gently, he guides you to the blossom-strewn floor, his fingertips discovering the valleys and contours of your body with ease. his lips graze the curve of your neck, a feather’s touch, a butterfly’s kiss. you shift beneath him and pull his face level with yours. you glance between his eyes, chest brushing against his with the labor of your breathing.

he removes a twig from your hair, flicking it away. “do you want this?” he asks.

“always.” you smile, and it sends his heart tumbling in his chest. 

you reach down and lift the hand pressed against the ground beside your hip. it leaves him in an awkward hunch overtop of you, only his left elbow propping him up, but he’s curious at your movements. holding his wrist, you touch your left palm to his.

“your hand isn’t shaking,” you whisper.

he looks at your joined flesh, at the way his fingers stand straight against yours. there isn’t the slightest waver in his hand. dropping his palm from your grasp, he melds his body against yours beneath the cherry tree as the sun inches toward the horizon.

it goes on like this for some time: you and he stealing moments throughout the week, in whatever privacy is available. for the first time in years, he is happy. he’d grown so used to his sullen state he forgot what joy felt like, but you’ve given it back to him in bundles.

he’s not exactly sure what it is about you that captivates him so. perhaps it is your whole being.

you are intelligent, easily tutoring your classmates when they fall behind. you are generous, often sharing your meals with the neediest of students. you are witty and lively in your silliest of moods and gentle and serene at your most centered. you listen to him when he speaks—truly listen—and you challenge him with your observations and questions. 

he enjoys holding you, caressing your soft skin, kissing your lips. the cherry blossom grove is where he holds you most. it is a safe place amidst an unsafe world. beneath the shade of the birch trees, he is untouchable. he is free to speak as he wishes, love you as he pleases. he is open and honest and everything he feels he cannot be in town.

and, yes, he thinks he loves you—even after such a short time. he would be a fool not to have fallen for you by now. despite the years between you, despite the complexities of his position, he knows he would chose you again.

the weeks bleed into months. spring edges into the beginning of summer. you will finish school soon and be out from under his tutelage, released to the frayed fragments of freedom to which britain still clings. neither of you have spoken on the topic. though it looms overhead, it’s still far yet. you have time.

you are cradled against his chest, the aftermath of your most recent lovemaking still lingering on your bodies and in the air. you hum into the crook of his neck, and your fingers swirl around the hair peppering his chest.

“gwilym?” you press a kiss to his shoulder before adjusting yourself to lean on your elbow, looking down on him.

he opens one eye. “hmm?”

“what do you think will happen after the war ends?”

he opens both eyes at this and moves his head to meet your questioning gaze. the blanket beneath him rustles, and the branches overhead sway with the warm breeze. he isn’t sure what question he’d been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t the one you posed. you surprise him every day in that way—always curious, always searching for answers.

“i’m not sure,” he says. “provided we win, i suppose germany will be forced to make reparations. with the americans in the fight now it won’t be long before the kaiser gives up.”

“will you leave us then? once everything’s back to normal?”

he answers quickly and honestly, surprised at the passion in his own voice. “no, never.”

your brow creases. “but you came here running from the war. won’t you go home when it’s done?”

he blinks and considers. months ago, he would have said yes. given the chance, he would have fled back to london without a moment of hesitation. now... now he’s not so sure.

“home is wherever you are.” the words tumble from his mouth before he can stop them, but once they hang in the air, he knows they are the truth. wherever you go, he will follow. he would forsake his entire past if it meant he could stay by your side.

your lips tug into a small smile, and you sit straighter, turning your face away. “you mustn’t say things you don’t mean.”

he runs a fingertip over the curve of your exposed shoulder, down the rise and fall of your spine. if anyone were to break through the line of trees, they would see you both and have no issue filling in the missing pieces of the puzzle, naked as you both are. still, he’s comfortable; he always is around you.

“i mean what i say, [y/n]. i’m not a flatterer.”

your head whips around, and your eyes twinkle with mirth. “don’t steal my words, gwilym,” you say with a laugh, pushing at his chest.

sitting up, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you against his side. “i can steal whatever i please. like this,” he says, punctuating his words with a kiss on the mouth. “or this.” he kisses the flesh beneath your collarbone. “or—”

you press a finger to his lips. “not everything.” your grin turns sly, and you coquettishly bat your eyelashes. “i’m a virgin, after all, and must remain so for my future husband.”

gwilym laughs, tossing his head back. “is that so?”

you nod. “my maidenhood is the most sacred thing about me.”

“oh, we’ll see about that!”

with an easy maneuver, gwilym has you on your back. your giggles—girlish but edged with desire—circle his head like a drug. you swat at his shoulders when he braces himself over you, his mouth like a tattoo on your skin. he could stay like this forever—just you and him, the cherry blossom trees, and the endless sky. he would stay, too, but after your picnic dinner and an argument over the smartest literary character of all time (he insists sherlock holmes; you insist portia from the merchant of venice), he must walk you home before your grandfather begins to worry.

he wonders if the old man suspects anything. he comes to your house multiple afternoons a week under the guise of preparing you for university should you choose to go further with your education. that study time always floats from the kitchen table to the back garden to the grove of trees, and you’re gone for hours. you always return looking rumbled, your dress askew, his tie undone, but the old man never says a word if he does know the truth. for that, gwilym is thankful.

tonight, he leaves you at the backdoor. the sky is a blanket of stars, and the moon shines bright overhead. standing as you are on the lowest stair leading to the door, you can meet his eyes with ease, and you seem to appreciate the change in perspective. you run your hands through his hair, your fingernails grazing his scalp. his eyes flutter shut at the feeling, his grip on your hip tightening.

“don’t do that, [y/n],” he breathes.

you smirk. “why? do you like it?”

he grits his teeth and opens his eyes to level you a dark stare. “you know i do.”

grinning, you kiss him hard, enough to leave him breathless when you pull away. “tomorrow? same place?”

“i have a meeting tomorrow afternoon with the vicar. i’ll come by afterwards.”

you shake your head and smooth your hands against his shoulders. the action is so domestic, so wifely, he can’t help but picture you as his wife, sending him away for a day of work. “don’t bother. i think i’ll pop around for tea with constance. perhaps i’ll run into you then?”

gwilym audibly groans at the idea of seeing you in his own home, sat across from his landlady, smiling and laughing, all the while making eyes at him from across the table. he shivers—but not because of the cold. “you’re gonna be the death of me, girl.”

you touch his cheek with such tenderness it makes his knees weak. “i hope so.”

maryanne is the one who ultimately discovers and reveals your affair. even so, gwilym blames himself and himself alone. he got too comfortable. months of loving you in secret—months of tasting you and knowing you and cherishing you—cannot be hid behind a sullen face. and his face is not longer sullen. 

he finds himself smiling more, asking his students about their lives instead of their assignments. he grades easier, waves his hand at forgotten homework, prolongs lunch break so he can eat with you. perhaps the change in his demeanor was what sent maryanne on the hunt. that—or the fact she caught him kissing you amongst constance’s prized hydrangea bushes.

he hadn’t been positive if the flash of pink fabric and yellow hair was maryanne, so he’d never mentioned it to you. he’d just kept kissing you, though his attention had slipped and his movements turned distracted when he heard the rustle of a bush. he’d opened his eyes long enough to see the out-of-place pink nestled within the green bushes and blue flowers, but then the color was gone and you were whispering something filthy in his ear and it made him laugh. he’d forgotten; he’d gotten comfortable.

now he wishes he’d grabbed maryanne and forced her to keep her mouth shut. with two weeks until your graduation, time is of the essence. he’d lose you if anyone found out, and he wasn’t about to let that happen.

he hadn’t caught maryanne, though, and she’d rushed home to tell her mother who had promptly told the idiot john coulder who had informed the vicar and the vicar had come to relive gwilym of his teaching duties—no questions asked.

“you do realize what a mess you’ve made, haven’t you?” the vicar had said upon his arrival. “there will have to be an investigation. we don’t stand for this sort of thing in snowshill.”

gwilym hadn’t said anything. he’d simply loomed over the squat man and summoned as much of a glower as he could. it wasn’t very hard, not with his entire world crashing down around him.

he lies down that night and wonders what will become of him. he will be a social pariah, an outcast, the man who seduced a child, the teacher who coerced a student. it isn’t like that; he knows it and you do too. he loves you, though he hasn’t said as much. he suspects you love him too.

he could take you away from here. you could both start over somewhere new, where no one knows your names. the idea is tantalizing, and it wouldn’t be hard, but he knows you won’t leave your grandfather and niece behind.

there’s a knock on his bedroom door, and he sits up, hitting his head on the slope of the attic ceiling. rubbing the offended area, he frowns.

“who is it?”

“who do you think?” constance says, her tone as unamused as his.

“i’m not really in the mood for visitors.”

he knows she knows. he knows she stood in the front parlor and listened to every word the vicar spat at his feet. he just didn’t have the guts to look her in the eyes before he fled to his room.

“you missed supper, child. i’ve brought you a bowl of soup.”

reluctantly, gwilym slides from bed and goes to open the door. constance stands at the top of the stairs, wrapped in a purple robe, the neck lined with feathers. she pushes him a bowl of split-pea soup and swishes into the room to drop in the single, hard-backed chair. it creaks beneath her weight. he turns to look at her; the heat of the bowl burns his hands, and his palms tremble.

“constance, i—”

“i must admit that i’d hoped you would find a friend in [y/n] [y/l/n], perhaps even something more.”

his jaw slackens. “i’m sorry?”

“when you mentioned you were going to the coulder house for supper and she would be there, i knew she would do you well. i knew her mother before she died, and that girl has her mother’s tender heart. both could heal even the sternest of wounds.”

he blinks, looks away. yes, you could. you healed him, after all.

“i simply wished you would have been more careful. my hydrangea bushes are not the most secretive spot in the world.”

“you knew?”

she nods, her painted lips tight. “mhm. ever since you came home that first afternoon smelling too much like women’s perfume and sheep’s wool.”

gwilym drops to his bedside, the soup in his bowl sloshing with the movement. “why didn’t you say anything?”

she laughs as if she’s taken offense by his query. “i may concern myself with everyone’s business, gwilym, but it is not my business to go about spreading the business which i know.”

“you are a strange woman.”

“you are a man in love.”

he looks down at the rapidly-cooling food in his lap.

“i shouldn’t tell you this,” constance continues. “it will only make you hope, but i know what it is you’re feeling.”

he scoffs. “do you?” somehow he doubted that. constance, having never been married, knew more of felines than she did feelings. at least, any of the feelings roiling through his person now.

“when i was seventeen i had an affair with my teacher. he was young and handsome and charming, and i was happy. but we were found out, and he was run out of town. i never saw him again.”

“how is this supposed to give me hope?”

“my xavier was not given the chance to explain himself before his accusers. you are being afforded that opportunity. use it.”

“they’ve taken my position already. they can do nothing more. this hearing is a farce, and you know it.”

constance smooths the wrinkles of her dressing gown and flicks away a spot of imaginary dust as she shrugs. “prides goeth before the fall. remember that come thursday.” she rises. “you have the chance to keep her, gwilym. she turns twenty next month and will graduate in a fortnight. even if you leave snowshill together, will you be able to live with yourself knowing you did not defend her honor before the people who know her best? sleep on that, won’t you?”

she exits the room before he can respond, and he falls asleep to growing pit of desperation in his stomach.

there’s a ping against his window some time late wednesday night. it startles him out of his uneasy sleep, and he sits up, rubbing his eyes. when it happens again, he turns to look out the window over his head. nothing but the black, starless night sky and open meadow beyond constance’s gardens. he huffs. perhaps it had been a bird or—

another ping.

teeth gritted, gwilym flings his window open and peers into the darkness, straining his eyes to see. what he doesn’t see, he hears, despite his deafness.

“gwilym!” the whisper is harsh and frantic, but a beautiful melody nonetheless. somewhere in the darkness, you stand, looking up at him. “gwilym, come down here!”

he doesn’t need to be told twice.

forgoing his shoes, he tumbles down the stairs and into the back garden. the night is brisk, chilly, a precursor of what is to come at dawn. he finds you in the darkness, or maybe you find him, but you’re there, in his arms, and that’s all that matters. you cling to him, your hands fisted in his bedshirt, ear pressed against his chest. he hasn’t seen you since maryanne revealed your relationship to the world; you feel like heaven amidst hell.

“i don’t have much time,” you whisper. “mrs. coulder is at the farm, watching over me to make sure i don’t come to find you.”

gwilym draws back. he holds your face in his hands and is struck by how large his palms are against the side of your head. your hair feels soft under his shaking fingers. the tremor is back; it has been since his world collapsed. 

“are you alright? have they done anything to you?”

“i’m fine. the vicar questioned me yesterday, tried to make me confess that you’d pressured me into being with you, but i only told the truth.”

“the fucker,” he mutters. “i’m sorry you had to do that. the blame lies entirely with me.”

“don’t worry about me. you have to speak before everyone tomorrow.”

“and it’ll be fine.”

“will it?” tears sparkle in your eyes as you look up at him. “no one will accept us even if—”

he silences you with a kiss to the forehead. “hush, [y/n]. whatever happens will happen. so long as you are well cared for, it will all be fine.”

“you sound as if you’re prepared to go away.”

“if they ask me—”

“gwilym, you promised you wouldn’t leave.”

he looks down at you. god, he loves you. with every fiber of his being, he longs to make you his. but he’s reminded of constance’s story every time he thinks of you now, and he’s been imagining a new sort of life by your side. one filled with dirty looks and whispers around every corner; of evenings alone, no friends to call on, no family to worry over; of a job in a far off village which takes him on the road and leaves you to yourself in that overly large farmhouse; friendless children; lonely in old age.

can he subject you to such a life? a life so similar to the one you’d pulled him from? he’s not sure he can—and he’s begun to wonder if constance’s xavier did the right thing by leaving her, by giving her a second chance.

“i know i did,” he finally says.

“then why are you talking like this? like you want to go?”

he brushes his thumb over your bottom lip and feels his gut wrench. “that’s the last thing i want.”

you chin quivers beneath his fingers, and he removes his hand from your face. “then tell me what it is you’re planning to do. please, gwilym. don’t you owe me that?”

in lieu of answering you, he wraps his arms around your back, lifting you so your feet merely brush the carpet of grass. he kisses you softly, savoring the touch and tucking it away in his heart for a future moment. he wants to memorize the map of your skin beneath his fingers and the feel of your mouth on his. he wants to commit the smell of your hair and the contours of your body and the feeling of love that crashes over him to memory. he’s not sure if he’ll have a moment like this again, so he prolongs the touch until he can barely breathe. he returns you to solid ground and pulls away.

“gwilym—” you’re crying, and he wonders how he didn’t taste your tears.

“don’t come tomorrow. i don’t want you to hear what they say.”

you set your jaw. “i’ll be there. i won’t leave you.”

he knows you’re bating him to reveal his plan, but he won’t. until his dying day, he will protect you from harm. tonight, he must protect you from himself.

because he can’t help it, he grabs your elbow and pulls you in for a last bruising kiss. you circle your arms around his neck and cling to him, even as he tries to pull away.

“let me go, [y/n],” he whispers. 

you hold tighter, your eyes screwed shut as you shake your head. “no.”

“let me go, angel.” with some amount of effort, he pries you from his body. a rush of cold fills the spot where you’d stood, pressed against him. 

he turns away, returning to the cottage, but not before he sees you hide your face behind your hands and hears you sob softly into the darkness.

you arrive at the hearing dressed in red. the sight of you flanked by your grandfather, wearing your boldest, brightest red dress, almost makes him laugh. you’re nothing if not brave. 

standing in the doorway of the church, you survey the room, which is full to bursting. everyone has turned out for the event of the year, and the air is hot with sweat and summer and scandal. when your eyes meet his from across the room, he can’t help but offer a smile. you smile in return, and the softness around your eyes is a balm to his soul. you point to an empty pew in the back of the hall and take your seat. though your face is obscured, he can make out the shoulders of your bright dress from his place in a chair on the dais. 

he sits before the entirety of snowshill, the weight of the world pressed down on his shoulders. he feels close to vomiting, but he knows what he must do. he’s ready.

when the vicar begins the proceedings, outlining your entire affair in torrid detail, gwilym keeps his face set firm. his hand bunches the fabric at his thighs and his teeth press against his tongue but he’s calm to the untrained eye. it’s only when the vicar asks him to say his piece that his facade begins to crumble.

he stands too rapidly, and his chair crashes to the floor. he leaves it lying against the cobblestone. he opens his mouth and releases a squeak. heat rushes up the back of his neck, and he clears his throat. from her place in the front pew, constance leans forward, her brows knit tight in concern. his gaze skips to you and, standing now, he can see your face. 

you’re beautiful.

gwilym opens his mouth to speak. “everything you have said about me here today is true, vicar.” there’s a muffled gasp throughout the crowd, but he continues. “i did enjoy an illicit affair with my own pupil and, though i admit i should have perhaps waited to court the girl in question until after her graduation, i will not concede that what we did was wrong.”

the vicar’s hands curl around the pulpit, his face ashen. “have you no shame, sir?” 

“no shame in partaking in what the lord intended us for: communion and fellowship with one another.”

“how dare you!”

gwilym ignores him and returns his eyes to yours amidst the crowd. “if i am guilty of anything, i am guilty of doing as the lord commands us: loving my fellow man—or, in this case, woman. the greatest of these is love, i believe, yes? so yes, i am guilty, but guilty only of loving a woman whole-heartedly.” he pauses and feels the overwhelming urge to laugh bubble in his chest. “i love you, [y/n], and that is the truth. if that is my crime, i will bear it with honor.” 

tears blur his vision as he extends his hand to you. a beat of silence and then—

you stand, your red dress a spotlight among the sea of browns and greens and grays. you step into the aisle, smile, and he notes as you walk forward that his hand does not shake as he waits for you to reach his side.

[eunoiaths]

no one is alone

joe mazzello x fem!reader

word count: 1.1k

warnings: panic attack, heavy angst, fluff, SONDHEIM— it’s cute i promise— joe is the sweetest thing in this one!

summary: joe is off filming in another country, and the unsettlement strikes you at an ungodly hour.

a/n: you asked for a soulmate au, and i’m feeding you something that is NOT that. you’re welcome!

there was something about early hours of the morning. the setting was quiet and settling; calm and comfortable. the warmth of cotton sheets covered your body at most times, pushing out fear— an anxious mindset. but, right now, early hours felt different.

they awoke your thoughts, eating at your mind. a hunger for a better feeling was numbed. you felt little to no warmth; just cold feet and an unmotivated feeling to fix the problem. your mind was consumed by loneliness, with the thought of a half-empty bed. everything was half-empty; wine glasses, pill bottles, and hating to say it: your heart. you missed joe, and you missed not feeling so lost without him, but now you were desperately craving his touch. a tear traced your cheek, and another, then another.

why the hell were you crying?

you two had addressed that he’d be gone for awhile. work was going to get in the way, and it hadn’t bothered you before, so why were you upset? and out of all times, why at one in the morning? joe was probably fast asleep right now. only one thought entered your mind: was he thinking of you too? you assumed no. no he wasn’t.

two hours passed and you were miserable. tears stained your wet, red cheeks, while your nose was stuffy and eyes were swole. you couldn’t get ahold of yourself, and you felt that it was no use trying to anyway. if you cried more, looking any worse was practically impossible. you picked up your phone, dialing your finger on ten keys counted, sniffling slightly. it rang for eternity— at least that’s what it felt like. the low drone was the only thing you could hear.

“h-hello?”

you stifled a breath, not expecting an answer. joe’s voice was already a comfort to your breakdown, as groggy as it was.

“joe.” you managed to get out, letting a held back sop escape your lips

“y/n? love- what’s wrong?”

you held your breath, trying to keep in your cries. joe seemed wide awake now, and it was your fault that he was.

“what’s wrong, baby? you can talk to me, i promise. take some deep brea-“

“i miss you.” you said softly, obviously shaken up, “i feel so- so alone.”

you could hear him sigh over the phone.

“a-and i’m sorry for bothering you at this hour. i know it’s-“

“y/n...”

“i know it’s early and you’d love your rest. i should just-“

“y/n.”

“i should just hang up, right? because i’m just bothering you, and you need sleep, so i’ll go now-“

“y/n!” joe cut you off, silencing your rambling, “don’t hang up. it’s okay, i miss you too.” he paused for a moment, “god, i miss you so much, baby. i’m falling into pieces here, alright?” nothing came from your mouth except a few dry inhales. you shut your eyes tight, tears dropping your fingers that lay there, shaking on the bed.

“y/n, are you alright?”

you were the problem.

“love, please answer me.”

he was suffering because of you.

“please- please say something, y/n.”

it was your fault.

“give me sign that you’re okay. you need to be okay.”

your breathing soon grew out of control, until you were full on hyperventilating. you swiped your finger on the speakerphone key, before dropping you phone from your hands. they couldn’t manage to do anything but shake at this point, as well as your body. you slumped down with your head buried into your knees; your spine hit the backboard of your bed frame. joe’s constant reassurances were backfiring in your current mindset, shooting straight passed you.

you finally were able to hold your breath, and everything went silent. it was a pain, but it was embarrassing for him to hear you be hysterical. joe’s caller ID still set a soft glow on your face. all hope felt deeply lost in the moment. you curled up on your side, holding a pillow to your chest, staring off in the still room.

“mother cannot guide you...”

you perked up, startled by your boyfriend’s dazed voice.

“-now you’re on your own.”

and then you realized: he was singing to you.

“only me beside you... still you’re not alone.”

for the first time in hours, you cracked a soft smile. joe’s voice wasn’t the best— knowing it was three in the morning— but it was comforting.

“no one is alone-”

“truly.” you mumbled

“no one is alone...” he whispered

the moment held you in a calm state. your breathing slowed and your eyes dried. in time— as he kept singing— you closed your eyes, listening; that was your song. the song he sang you to sleep with, or when he thought you were asleep, (in reality, you were awake every minute of it). that was the song his mother sang to him as a child, what he sang to you in times of fear, what he’d sing to your kids.

“witches can be right, giants can be good... you decide what’s right,”

there you were, restless, silly ideas popping into your head.

“you decide what’s good.”

joe was yours, you were his. in this instant, you knew that. and not just halfway, like wine glasses, pill bottles, your heart. you knew it was full, the truth.

“maybe we forgot, they are not alone-“

“-someone is on your side.” you muttered

you could imagine the grin plastered on his face, and there was one there, even if it was thousands of miles away. it was there, and that was all that mattered to you.

“no one is alone...” joe sang, finishing the final lyric. things were hushed for a few seconds, leaving you with a warm feeling inside.

“you’re an awful sing-”

“i love you.”

your eyes widened, “you do?”

“i love you, y/n.”

your heart stopped. he’d never said that before, neither had you. your doubts melted away, leaving you speechless for several moments. you finally smiled sleepily, taking a breath, “i love you too, joe.”

“thank god. leave me hanging, why don’t ‘cha?” he joked, “get some rest, my love.”

“goodnight, joey.”

“goodnight, y/n.”

after hours of distress, you eventually lulled into a sleep with the comfort of joe’s steady breathing on the phone. miles away, he still managed to help you feel like you mattered. to help you feel better.

[borhap-au]

Gwil x bookstore employee.

You recognized Gwilym from one or two of your classes, you had the same major in college. He usually sat behind you, and you of course didn’t know it, but he was much more interested in what you were doing than what the professor was saying. He tried to talk to you a few times, sometimes even got the courage to do it, but he couldn’t come up with a good enough topic, so he usually asked about school projects and homework, therefore obviously the conversations ended pretty soon.

You wanted to talk to him as well, but you didn’t want to make the conversation awkward or force it to make it longer. Plus he usually only asked about college stuff, so naturally you thought he’s not interested in you, just asking for some crucial information to pass the class.

The situation slightly changed when you started to work in a bookstore nearby.

The first time Gwilym came there, he honestly didn’t know you would be there, let alone work there. He just wanted some books to read on a spring break. When he saw you in the shirt with the bookstore’s logo and understood you worked there, he thought about a plan to be able to talk to you more and get to know you closer. He didn’t come up to you yet that day, hiding behind the shelves of books, and it looked a little bit as if you were playing hide and seek. However, the next time he promised himself to be more courageous and prepared for the meeting.

He came up to you one day, with a smile on his face, and you immediately smiled back.

“Gwil, hi! Didn’t think I’ll meet you here,” you welcomed him and put the books you had in your hands aside, as he caught you while you were sorting them.

“Oh, you definitely will meet me here a lot. I love reading,” you smiled wider hearing that. What a nice change, to meet a guy who likes reading. All of your male friends were too busy playing videogames all day.

“So, did you get something? Or want me to recommend you a good read?” you raised your brow looking at him. He immediately nodded at your proposition, as he wanted to ask you himself, but didn’t know how to do it.

“Yes, please. I just finished all the series I was reading and need some new ones,” you nodded your head hearing that and looked at him.

“So, what did you read? I could recommend something based on that,” he then proceeded to name several series, some of which you also started reading. You then took a minute to look through the books. “Hmm… You really read everything that was there. But… What about “The Dark Tower” series by Stephen King? You may like it.” He looked at the back of the book to read the summary and then nodded smiling.

“Sounds like fun, I’ll take it,” you took the books he wanted to buy and brought them to the counter.

“We have a discount for extremely nice customers,” you winked to him, making it quite obvious that there was no actual discount, different from the one for employees, which you were planning to give him. You told him the price of the books and he gave you the money, but he didn’t leave immediately after, as you were sure he would.

“When are you finishing?” he asked and you tried to hide both the surprise and the smile. You looked at him.

“In about forty minutes. I just need to finish putting those books in order and then close the bookstore. Why, do you want to talk about books some more?” you smiled at him. Gosh, he was so handsome.

“About books, but not only. I’d like to take you out for coffee or tea, if you wanted to come with me…” you chuckled quietly and that reaction caught him by surprise. “…or not?”

“No, no, I would like to come with you. It’s just that it rhymed, it sounded like a poem,” he smiled as well. “So, do you want to stay with me, or will you come back after I close the shop?”

“I can stay. I can even help you if you want,” you were a little hesitant about it, but finally you agreed.

“But you know, you really don’t have to,” you assured him while he carried a pile of books so you didn’t have to walk for them every single time.

“I know, but I want to,” he smiled and you decided not to dispute the matter with him anymore. Actually, you could really use the help, so it was like heaven listened to your earlier cursing about the weight of the piles of books and big boxes and decided to give you a break.

“Actually, this book should be good for you too,” you said while unpacking another box. “It’s a new one, I started reading it in class, it was quite interesting for me. I’m planning to finish it on the weekend.” Gwilym smiled to hide his embarrassment. Actually, while he was looking for a reason to talk to you, he saw you carrying that book and decided to buy it and read it as well, just so the next time he sees you, he can say ‘oh, you’re reading that?! What a great choice, I just finished it last week!’ and hopefully the problem with the topic of the conversation would work itself out after that.

“Oh, I’m also reading that book, I got it from my friend. Once we finish, we can discuss the plot and everything. I mean, if you want to. I just like to share my opinions with others, create new theories or backgrounds for the characters,” he smiled a bit, because he knew it made him sound like a total dork and a geek.

“Actually, I’d love that,” you smiled. “I already have a few theories and I will like to share them once we finish the book,” oh, he was relieved.

Gwilym found it both ironic and annoying how trying to get to know a girl you like when you’re shy resembled being a total creep and stalking someone. He did not go as far as to check your Facebook profile back to the day you’ve created it, he didn’t even try to check if you have an Instagram account. However, whenever he had a chance he admired your beauty from a distance, like a teenager with a crush, and tried to pick some small details he could hang on the next time he’s trying to start a conversation. He hated his shyness, but you actually found it quite cute. Despite the fact you cursed your own shyness whenever you wanted to talk to him more, but couldn’t, because you were overthinking every single word and once you decided to speak, the moment passed, and it was too late.

Soon, when Gwilym figured out the pattern you had for sorting books, he didn’t just carry them for you, but he also started helping out with putting them in place as well. It was especially useful when you had to go to help the clients and he was left alone with the boxes. You honestly thought you will have to stay overtime to do it, but with his help, you finished right on time.

“Give me a second, I will just change and take my things and we can go. Promise it won’t be long,” you smiled apologetically, but he didn’t have a problem with that.

“I’ll just wait here, reading,” you chuckled quietly.

“Well, I promise I won’t be so long that you’ll finish the whole bookstore.” After that you went to change and it took you just a couple of minutes to be ready, but of course you made sure your make-up and hair were on point. You were also thanking yourself for choosing one of your favorite shirts for today, the one that nicely highlighted your assets – your cleavage and collarbones.

When you came back to Gwil, he smiled involuntary on the sight he had before his eyes.

“You look great,” he smiled as he opened the door for you. You blushed immediately.

“Thanks,” you muttered quietly. Once you closed the bookstore, you headed in the direction he decided on. You felt awkward with yourself, being inexperienced in the whole dating world, but with Gwilym you somehow felt more relaxed, because of his friendly personality and his everlasting smile. When you went to the cafe, he insisted on paying for you, and you finally gave up, promising the next time you’ll pay. You both took hot chocolate, as you decided it was the best drink for talking about books.

“Do you come here often?” you asked, looking around, while you sat at your table. You both immediately chose the one in the corner, away from people, without consulting one another beforehand about the options.

“Yeah, actually, I come here on the breaks sometimes. I like the atmosphere here,” he explained, while making himself comfortable in the big armchair.

“I can see why. It’s a perfect place for a cozy afternoon with a book. I don’t know why I haven’t been here yet. It’s quite close to my workplace after all…”

Somehow the conversation didn’t feel awkward between you two. You proceeded to discuss various books, characters, theories and fandoms and it was as if you met here every Friday for a few months. And it soon became that. He often came to pick you up from work, you always told him when you found some nice new book to read. You also watched the same TV series, so the conversation topics soon expanded, and it felt more natural and easy with every single time.

One time, after a few weeks of your meetings, Gwilym surprised you at work, without earlier giving you any hints that he may be coming. He didn’t let you know simply because he didn’t know himself if he will get the courage to come that evening. You were surprised, but in a nice way, and you welcomed him with a hug.

“I’m finishing in a few minutes, so we can go somewhere. Maybe to the cinema, for the new superhero movie and then for a dinner, how about it?” you had to say it all at once because you knew that if you hesitated, you wouldn’t say it. It was the very first time you were to meet outside college, your workplace or that cafe. You were too shy and insecure to assume he liked you the same way you liked him, but you prayed for it. That’s why you decided to invite him on a proper date, rather than just for a two-people book club meeting.

He nodded, but was sort of in a different place mentally, so you naturally took it as a “no” in a sense that he did not like you back. However, he then gave you a notebook. It was a black notebook with no design on it, so you looked at him a bit surprised. Then you decided to just open it. While it opened on the first page, you saw a question written on it, in Gwilym’s neat handwriting.

“Will you be Mary Jane to my Spiderman?” was the sentence on the page, with some doodles of spider webs and the Spiderman himself, with his heart pumping out of his chest. You looked at it with disbelief and then at him. After a few seconds you nodded and hugged him tightly.

“Yes! Yes, of course I will,” you smiled widely and he hugged you back, quietly sighing with relief. He kissed your cheek.

“I’m sorry for being so cheesy. I was just too scared to say it out loud,” he muttered embarrassed, actually blushing, which makes him look even cuter.

“I find it very sweet. It’s going to be our notebook, for our memories. And book reviews!” you joked and he smiled hugging you and taking you off the ground, spinning you around, as you squeaked quietly, scared to kick some books off the shelves in the process.

He leaned down to put you back on the ground and you looked at each other. You both intuitively moved a little closer to each other and you ended up kissing. What a beautiful view that was, like right from one of the books you read. Outside there was raining, that’s why Gwilym came in a little wet, and now you were kissing right next to the glass door of the bookstore. It made you look as if you were on a cover of a book. And it truly was a beautiful love story.

[nonstoplover]

worse ~ Gwilym Lee (song drabble)

my masterlist │ my song drabbles

song used as inspiration: new hope club ~ worse

words: 1.4K

approximate reading time: about 10 mins

a/n: a little more angsty one finally, something that's not so cheesy, not a cliché, because life's just like this. sometimes it's hard, sad and disappointing. it was weird to write something like this after the multiple happy, love-filled ones, but i kinda like how this turned out. i hope you do too!! feel free to leave feedback and request anything!

(y/n) swiftly ducked her head, cursing under her breath as she saw her ex walk in through the restaurant door after a blonde woman. Glancing out next to her friend, Jack's body she watched them walk to their table, Gwilym pulling out the chair for her (the way he did with her only a month earlier) before they giggled at each other.

She couldn't take it anymore and turned back to her companion. He was staring at her with worry in his eyes and out of nowhere an idea popped in (y/n)'s head. Just as Jack opened his mouth to ask her about the sudden change of behaviour, she hastily spoke up, voice only a little bit above a whisper.

"I need you to fake date me."

"Fake... you need me to do what ?" Jack's eyes widened in confusion. "Why?"

He was just about to turn around to see what the girl saw behind his back but her hands grabbed his shoulder to keep him still.

"Look, my ex just entered with a woman and I want him to think that I found someone else too, that when I broke up with him, I was truly over him just like I said so," the girl explained swiftly.

"But you're clearly not over him."

"I am, but that's not the point. It's that he sees that I'm with someone."

"I don't think it's a great idea."

"Did I ask for your opinion?" (y/n) snarled at him. "I just need you to do this one thing for me. Besides, I think it's gonna work. I like this plan."

Jack kept staring at her with searchful eyes, unsure of what to do.

"You're questioning my methods."

"I'm not questioning it, I'm saying it's stupid," he retorted, earning a glare back from the girl. "Okay, okay, let's do it. But you owe me one."

(y/n) let out a breath and nodded, a thankful look in her eyes.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Just hold my hand over the table, I'll take care of the rest," she explained her plan. "Maybe change your body language a bit, you know, as if there was real chemistry between us or something.

The minutes passed quickly, eventually turning into hours as they continued their little act. (y/n) glanced at the other table from time to time, curious if Gwilym would come say hi and examining the blonde woman as well as the behaviour of the two towards the other. She was careful to turn her glance back towards Jack whenever her ex's eyes turned her way, which as time passed occured more and more often, she could feel his burning stare on her skin.

Gwilym on the other hand was miserable. The girl that broke up with him a month before, the girl he still had feelings for, the girl he still thought about every waking moment of his life just had to come to the very restaurant Jessica, his high school classmate and great friend who he hadn't seen in years had chosen for them to go to. And now she sitting there facing some other guy Gwilym had never seen before, occasionally giggling at each other, holding each other's hand, pressing loving kisses on his cheek every once in a while.

He felt pain sting in his chest as the proof that she had truly got over him was right in front of his eyes. This past month, he had tried to convince himself that even though it was the girl who ended their relationship, she might still had feelings for him.

It was the most grievous thing to ever feel not seeing her face for so long, not waking up to find her peaceful, sleeping figure next to him, but as he watched her be with someone else, he realised that this was much, much worse. It was the worst thing he had ever felt, a complex and terrible mixture of feelings. His body and every inch of his skin felt like it was on fire, his mind and heart was frozen and emotionless.

He'd rather not see her ever again if it meant that he didn't have to see her with other men. All he knew was that he never wanted to experience this feeling again. Being beaten up until all his bones were broken and he was bleeding from several spots sounded better than this.

From the corner of his eyes he saw her stand up and walk towards the bathrooms and he swiftly muttered an apology to Jessica before following (y/n) to the back of the building.

"(y/n)!" Gwilym called out, his voice echoing in the empty corridor just before the young woman could enter the ladies' toilet. She spun around immediately, looking at him with a pokerface, waiting for him to reach her.

"Why are you here?" The mentioned girl asked when he paused a few feet from her.

"I just wanted to talk," he replied, slightly taken aback by the harsh tone.

"Alright, then let's talk," (y/n) nodded, eyes still cold as ice. His heart felt like breaking again as he watched her watch him with such an expression. "Anything specific you wanted to talk about?"

"I-I don't know. How are you?"

"Wonderful, thank you. And I can see that you're doing great as well."

His eyes followed hers as she looked towards the end of the corridor they came from, and suddenly he realised that she probably meant Jessica. Was she jealous?

"Now, this was the huge, important thing you followed me because, or is there something else?" Her bored voice broke the momentarily silence and woke him from his train of thoughts.

"Why are you being so mean to me? Did I do something?" Gwilym felt anger bubbling in his chest. She had no right to behave like this. "You were the one breaking up with me."

"Yeah and I had a reason."

"Look, I never meant to hurt you."

"Didn't succeed," (y/n) muttered, eyes moving to the side, examining the tapestry.

"Can we meet up sometime and talk it through?" He tried hard to hide the hopeful tone in his voice.

"Depends on what you the end result of it to be," she tilted her head to the side.

"I just want to talk. I think we both deserve and need to hear the other's perspective."

"I don't know, Gwil. We hurt each other enough, don't you think? Maybe we'd only do the same this time as well, and I don't want that. I don't wanna be that hurt again and I don't want to hurt you again."

Gwilym watched as she gesticulated in a quite chaotic way, it was obvious that she was abashed as her eyes frantically moved around the small corridor they stood in. He let out a sigh, knowing that she was right.

The way they ended was nowhere close to being painless, it included a lot of screaming and shouting, calling the other names that they didn't even mean but nevertheless came out in their clouded, angry state. They did hurt each other deeply, and it was a long time coming, nothing they could've avoided.

Their ship was meant to be sunk and trying to build another would be pointless, the tides were too enormous for even the strongest, most professionally built boat.

"Alright," he announced a couple seconds later.

(y/n) was a bit taken aback for a moment, not expecting him to give up this easily. But she swiftly pulled herself together, he couldn't see her uncertainty. She wasn't over him and missed all the amazing days she spent with him, but giving in wasn't a choice.

He hurt her, she probably hurt him just as much. They just weren't fitting.

"Alright," she echoed.

Gwilym nodded, eyes taking the figure of her in once more before turning around and slowly making his way back to his table (and Jessica). Inside his head he was already thinking about a new plan, a plan that would eventually lead (y/n) and him to living in two faraway cities or even continents so they could avoid meeting and he didn't have to watch as she was going out with a new boyfriend. A plan that included him moving away in order to eventually be able to get over her.

(y/n) watched him disappear behind the corner before turning around and entering the bathroom, only one thought in her mind that she could sense with all her being.

It was the last time she saw the man.

.::the end::.

my masterlist

[likesomekindofcheese]

Hi! I don't know if you've already done this, but could you do Borhap x Aquarius reader? If not that's perfectly fine :)

cuSure thing! So far I’ve written for Ben here and for Joe here, so now for our two remaining lads! 

Rami...

The first dates are somewhat about sizing up. Rami isn’t one for hookups, he wants commitment and safety! But fortunately, once you understood that, you were there to be the anchor to him.

Balancing Rami’s love of slow places with your need for action! When you went to a theme park, Rami wanted to go on a boat ride while you wanted to hop on a coaster! You held hands through the boat ride and heard his nervous laughter then cries of “woooo!” as the coaster dipped down from its climb.

You love sending him silly texts that make him smile and laugh. Though sometimes he’s on set and has to bite his lips to keep from giggling when it’s time to rehearse.

You even often imagine your life with Rami: the place, you live together, what it would be like, cute domesticity- and when you open that and share it with him he just beams.

He helps you with practical matters: like making a budget! He assures you it helps him all the time and you learn those “Adulting” tasks aren’t so bad after all.

Rami loves to buy you gifts of anything you would like: from a soft blanket to a beautiful book.

You help him enjoy puzzles (the mind) and he enjoys cooking with you, especially sniffing the spices and seeing which ones would work best.

Some people didn’t think the relationship would work, but you prove them wrong those haters through the deep respect and openness you have for each other.

Gwilym...

You love to jump and surprise him! Gwilym would be just sitting on the couch reading or on his phone or something. You then place your hands suddenly on his shoulders. His whole six-two body leaps in surprise. But to see him notice you, relax, and laugh is worth it. He loves that playful energy of yours!

There is never a dull moment with both of you side by side! You love the adventure and individuality and honesty of each other.

You share a love of travel: hopping onto a plane or getting into a car with a sense of destination by each other's side brings a wealth of excitement.

You also enjoy together exotic cuisines. Seeing Gwilym bite into a fish Mappa you ordered from a South Indian place, chew it, and then place his hand over his heart with approval always makes you smile. And of course, he’s willing to share!

You both have the most interesting talks. The conversation is a chance for you to show your intellect which always astounds Gwilym!

You also go to sporting events with Gwil. It’ll be a cold evening, and you would deck in your warmest jacket with a cup of hot chocolate, standing to sing with him whenever the team opens with a Welsh Anthem (despite whatever your knowledge of Welsh is) and cheer by his side

You share ecelectic home decor from all of your travels and collections and adventures together! So it is filled with memories and experiences!

 Plus parties hosted by you two, birthdays with cake, new years with champagne, or Murder Mysteries with pizza and fake mustaches, are the absolute best. You two are a dream team.

Taglist: @queenlover05

[queensdivas]

Garden Party. A Gwil Short

You can thank @filmslutt​ for that cute little moodboard you see below! I asked her to send me a request because I was super bored and then this came up! Don’t ask me how I got this from that from I think it’s sort of cute in a sense. 

I hope everyone is doing okay with what’s going on in the world. Please be careful and just enjoy the fact that we live in the same Universe that the Bohrap boys live in. 

Love you all and enjoy!

Masterlist

I’d say the best advantage of living on an island far up north would be the smell of the North Atlantic Ocean. The people are so friendly, the food is all home cooked and fresh, and it’s super quiet. The worst thing? When you finally head to civilization for a week to spend with your family ya meet a really great guy and now he’s wanting to bring his friends up to meet me! Not that I haven’t met them over facetime and of course I said yes because he wouldn’t stop talking about them and how great they are! I’ve also seen their instagrams, they’re definitely super close with one another!

So. I thought it would be fun if I had a garden party! I’ve busted my butt through the entire summer with the help of Gwil who kept making time out of his super busy schedule to help me with my gardening. Our Scots Bluebell turned out beautifully all around the house, of course the thistles turned out gorgeous. The bellheathers turned a bright purple, my jacobite roses bloomed of course, and finally my dwarf cornel though taking a little longer than usual, turned out great! 

Alright it’s 1:10 and Gwil just told me he just picked them up from the airport. He said there’s going to be a total of eight people he’s bringing tonight. Luckily I’ve got enough room in my big old house to fit everyone. The last ferry usually leaves around eight and driving here around night isn’t always the best. I’ve got plenty of bunkbeds and single beds. 

For an appetizer I’m starting with Partan Bree (which is crab bisque), then two main cuisines of Bangers and Mash along with the second cuisine of course mini scottish pies. And for dessert it’s Cranachan!

One knock came from the back door as it opened for my friend to come and give me a hand with the cooking. You think I would do this all by myself? Of course not. Look, I love multitasking, but when it comes to cooking I’d like to make sure everything is cooked well. 

“How much time do we have Maisy?” Bonnie asked as she carried in some of the groceries I asked her to buy. Of course I invited my best friend. Though he’s met her multiple times when he drove up here, just didn’t want to be alone when they all come up here. 

“Inverness Airport is where everyone is meeting so we got about five hours. I have to start taking apart the crab if you want to start getting the mash ready.” Bonnie nodded as she walked behind the counter. 

“So who's all coming to this party?” Bonnie asked as I started cutting the skin off the crab. 

“Gwil of course. Joe, Ben and his girl sadly can’t remember her name. Rami and Lucy, and another couple Allen and his wife Jessica.” Finishing the first crap as I moved onto the next one. 

“Holy Hell. Didn’t realize you were feeding’ the masses today!” Bonnie laughed as she began peeling the potatoes. 

“Neither did I until a few days ago when he told me they were out and about. But oh well.” I laughed as I stopped peeling for a second to turn on the TV. 

“What are we feeling Bonnie?” I asked her as I scrolled down to the apps. 

“Have you watched Rosemary's baby?” For some odd reason whenever Bonnie and I cook, we just love watching scary movies. Don’t ask me why because we just do! 

“I’ve heard it’s freaky so yes. Hulu?” 

“Netflix.” I nodded as I opened netflix then got the movie started. 

I finished peeling the last crab as the pile of crab meat was sitting there ready to become some delicious bisque. We started watching the movie while beginning to cut up the crab shells. Bonnie and I kept stopping once every few minutes to watch the movie because it’s just so bizzare. Who names their kid Guy? Imagine growing up with your first name being Guy! No offense to those named Guy, but what a poor kid! 

“From the way Guy’s attitude. She blames it on being an actor, but I think that’s just him being an ass hole.” I pointed out as I placed the crab skins apart of the meat to start cutting them apart. 

“So not ALL actors are self entiled ass holes?” 

“Cheeky bitch.” I tossed a piece of crab skin at her as she darted a piece of skinned potato at me. 

“Gwil is much calmer and knows how the industry works. Oh my god her hair!” I got distracted at how big the top of random chicks hair was! It’s all shoved on top! 

“It looks like a popcorn kernel! Oh she’s dead..” We both stopped to start watching again as the old couple came into the scene. They’re like the old version of Barbie and Ken with the amount of pink they were wearing! My phone ringing broke my train of thought as I put down the knife. Why is Gwil trying to facetime me if he’s driving? I placed my phone against the mixing bowl and answered the call. 

“Is that crab?” He asked as I held the crab's dead claw in front of the camera. 

“Why are you holding a crabs claw? Oh my god does Gwil enjoy nipple clamps? Ben owes me money if this is true!” Joe chimed in as I smirked at the camera. When Gwil and Joe were in the Swiss Alps in that golf tournament, he facetimed me during the golf tournament with them driving around the golf course, while singing Material Girl. It Was a sight. 

“No he isn’t into nipple clamps Joe.” I heard him groan as he aimed the phone over to Gwil who was trying to focus on driving, but kept looking out of the corner of his eye towards the phone. 

“What’s for dinner?” He asked as I went back to cutting up the crab skin. 

“For as many people you’re dragging up here, we’re having Partan Bree, Bangers and Mash, Mini Pies, and for dessert you’ll be eating Cranachan!” I smiled as I heard a bunch of moaning for food in his car. 

“Gwil when were you going to tell us she was going to fatten us up!” Lucy giggled as I kept smiling at Gwil. 

“You guys just left the airport?” I asked them as I finished cutting the skin. 

“Yeah we should be up there in about four hours Maisy. Miss you biscuit.” He started to blush as everyone in the car was beginning to awww and chuckle. 

“Miss you too marmalade . Don’t worry I won't embarrass you in front of your friends quite yet. Until you get up here at least. Now let me cook so I can feed everyone!” I told him as he looked away from the road for a second. 

“Okay Maisy. Love you.” 

“Love you to Gwil. Drive safely please!” I sent him a kiss but I heard a certain someone scoff. 

“Wow you’re not gonna say goodbye to me?” The camera turned to Joe as he was making a very large pouty face. 

“Sorry Joe. Goodbye Joe and please make sure my marmalade drives safety.”

“Much better. Bye Maisy!” Joe waved as he hung up the phone as I got back to it. 

“Biscuit? Marmalade? Where the hell do you guys come up with this stuff?” She asked as I shook my head. 

“Super long story. Sort of what happened when we went to that castle in Tain with biscuits and marmalade. Long but funny.” Bonnie nodded as I got a picture from Gwil. It was a self with everyone in the car. Bonnie looked over at Joe and smiled. 

“That Joe guy is kind of cute.” Bonnie commented as she finished peeling all the potatoes. 

“Maybe he’s single.” I commented as I placed the shells into the oven. 

*Four Hours Later*

Bonnie brought out the last chair from the house as I flung the pure white embroidered tablecloth onto the long table. I want to make sure everyone has some space to eat and relax because it gets a little nipply here at nights, being up here on Orkney Island kind of comes with the package. But I love it up here! 

I walked over to the small shed with my boxes full of packed fairy lights so I could hang around the tree branches. We dragged the old dining room table out of the house and put it under the tree. Luckily we’ve got a warm evening with our usual nice breeze. 

“Hey Bonnie! Can you double check the pies for me?” I asked her as I grabbed one of the chairs to stand up on to hang the lights. 

“Maisy! Do we want music playing in the background for tonight?” Reaching up to wrap the first strand on the closest branch. 

“Ummm. Throw on my Harmonium record would ya?” Weird yes. But their music is just so relaxing and perfect for some really good cleaning and cooking music. For the record the movie took a really dark turn real quick and was so weird. But I would definitely watch it again because it went from oh shit to HOLY SHIT! In a span of twenty minutes!

“Reach you!” I had to balance myself on one foot as I got the strand on the tiny little branch. 

“Gotcha!” I cheered as I kept going with the rest of the lights. 

“MAISY!” She screamed from the kitchen as she hung up the next part of the strand. 

“WHAT!”

“WHAT WINE DO WE WANT?” Wine? WINE!? YOU DON’T HAVE WINE WITH SAUSAGE AND MASH! 

“Bonnie! You know better than that! We have all throughout the entire dinner! I got a few bottles in the cellar of that 90 Shilling down there. But just in case they want wine, grab a bottle of Gavi Di Gavi that I have down there, I think it’s been aged for a little while so it should go good with the Bartan Bree at least.” She turned around to go back inside, but then turned back around to stand in the doorway. 

“Pies are almost done, the soup is hot and ready, also they’re here.” Okay good pies are ready AND GWILS HERE!? SHIT! I climbed down from the chair as I fixed my necklace and let my hair down from my clip. 

I began walking towards the side gate but stopped at the back porch to flip on the backyard lights. The fairy lights I hung from the tree lit the table nicely along with the candles that are soon to be lit. I took one last glance down at myself to see that my floral dress was laying nicely, booties were tied and my necklace was fixed. 

Alright. Here we go! 

Opening the side gate as I heard all of them talking amongst each other as they were walking up to the front door. Gwil looked absolutely stunning in his dark green button up, black pants, oh and those dark brown loafers. A beautiful snack! They were walking up to the front door as I walked all the way around front. 

“Well well well. Look at this merry band coming onto my porch.” They all turned towards me as Gwil smiled. He walked down from the front porch to scoop me up in his arms to do a quick spin. Then a quick peck as it’s rude to kiss multiple times in front of your guest. 

“And these are for you?” He stuck a small bouquet of lilies and lavenders. 

“Thank you biscuit.” One quick peck as he placed his arm around my shoulder as we began walking towards the crowd. 

“Those who haven’t had the chance to meet her. This is Maisy Kerr. You already know Joe of course.” I smiled as Joe walked over to give me a quick hug. 

“I know I should be all nice and not rude, but where is your bathroom?” He was trying not to do a pee dance as I also tried not to laugh. 

“Upstairs, second door on the left.” 

“Oh my god thank you!” He rushed inside as I motioned for everyone else to follow inside. Gwil stopped for a moment to sneak in a few more kisses which made me giggle. 

“I’ve missed you so much Maisy! I hope you don’t mind, after I drive them back down to the airport if I stay with you for a few days? London and Bristol have gotten a little old without you and this place is just relaxing.” Not being sarcastic at all, but I love it when he just comes up and stays. 

“You can literally come over whenever you feel like honey. We’ll talk about it after dinner, and have to go meet everyone.” I placed a soft peck on his cheek then walked past him, but then gave his butt a little slap. God I love that tooshie. 

Everyone was standing around the hallway as we walked in then shutting the door. 

“Shoes on our off?” One of them asked as I locked the door. 

“Either or. We’ll be eating outside this evening and having a bonfire, so I would leave them on.” How can you not have an outdoor dinner without a bonfire. Wouldn’t make much sense if we didn’t have one. 

“Maisy this is a lovely home. I’m Lucy by the way.” Oh my god she’s an adorable woman holy crap!

“Lovely to meet you Lucy and thank you. Has been with my family for generations.” Everyone made it outside as Bonnie was tossing a bunch of kindling wood into the fire pit. 

“Aye welcome! The name Bonnie! Hi Gwil!” She waved as Gwil waved back. 

“Please make yourself comfortable and I’ll start bringing out the food in a few moments.” I turned back into the house as Bonnie scurried over to help me. Which then Gwil decided to come inside and join us. 

“How have ya been Gwil.” She got into the fridge to pull out a few bottles of the yale and wine. 

“Oh fine Bonnie. Just been busy with work.” He told her as I gave the bisque one last stir as I heard Joe coming down the stairs. He stopped in the doorway to look at Bonnie for a quick second. 

“Bonnie this is Joe Mazzello. Joe, this is Bonnie Geddes.” They approached each other and shook each other's hand. 

“Mind giving me a hand Gwil.” I pointed to where the bowls were as he began pulling them out. 

“Bonnie, would you mind taking the wine and ale outside. Also light the candles please?” Bonnie snapped away from Joe as she started to take them outside. Joe of course helped her due to the fact that he was already hooked on her. 

“Well that was quick.” He commented as we both high fived each other. I began pouring the bisque into the bowl as he took the ones with the full ones outside. 

I grabbed the last two bowls as everyone was sitting already and opened the wine and ale. There were two empty chairs that sat across from Bonnie and Joe, Ben was sitting next to her and his girlfriend. Allen sat on the end of the table with his wife on his left, then Rami sitting next to his wife, and Lucy sitting by the empty chair. 

I placed Gwils and bowls at the table. He grabbed his from my hand as I sat down in my chair. Pulling my chair in as everyone was continuing to talk. 

“Ben, that's nasty.” Lucy told Ben as he was finishing his cigarette. 

“Just a hobby Lucy. I don’t do it every day, just every other other day.” He put out the cigarette as he wrapped his arm around his lady friend. 

“Ah Maisy this is Ben and his gal pal Olivia Cooke.” She smiled as I waved over to her. 

“Oh and that’s Allen and his wife Jessica. And of course Rami and Lucy down at the end.” 

“Please dig in everyone.” I stood up as I began unscrewing the cork off the wine bottle. It’s a little stuck! Crap! 

“Gwil hold the bottle.” I asked him as he held the base of the bottle as I tried to pull the cork off. 

“It’s not wanting to come out!” I laughed as I kept trying to pull. I finally got it to pop and the cork flew across the lawn. 

“Perfect.” 

“So tell me Maisy. What exactly do you do?” Rami asked as I began filling up my glass. 

“I own the Wetdrumstick Pub here on Finstown and then a pub called Misty Maid in Kirkwall. Well to be fair it’s been in my family for the longest of times, now I just took them over until the next person comes along.” I told Rami as I passed the bottle to Gwil then sitting back down. 

“And I’m just gonna assume that you are all actors along with Gwil here?” Bonnie asked as I took a sip of my wine. They all laughed at each other as I shrugged to Bonnie. 

“And what about you Bonnie?” Joe looked to Bonnie as she took a drink of her ale. 

“A fisherman..er women. Following the dreams of a Scottslady.” She laughed as Joe nodded his head. 

“Maisy this bisque is delicious! What recipe is this?” Jessica asked as I put down my spoon. 

“I’ll have to find it somewhere or write it down for ya.” 

“Does this have milk in it?”” Joe asked as I nodded. He leaned back in his chair as Bonnie looked at him in confusion. 

“Allergic to dairy?” Bonnie asked him as they began their conversation. I turned to Gwil as he had my arm wrapped around my chair. 

“You shaved? Why?” I just realized he didn’t have that gorgeous stubble. Not that he doesn’t look handsome without it cause my god. But it’s always good to add a little extra garlic powder to your spaghetti sauce. 

“It was for the show because apparently Russian men didn’t have facial hair besides the really crazy ones.” Fair enough. 

“Hey listen since you’re staying here for a few days. Would you mind if we went into Thurso and stopped by my favorite bakery? I’ve been craving some of Mr. Monks Bahulu?” 

“Of course. Not checking into the pubs?” 

“I will before we head into Thurso. Only if you don’t mind...biscuit.” He grabbed my right hand to give it a soft kiss. 

“Not at all. Anytime with you is perfect.” We chowed down on the bisque then onto the sausage and mash, then the mini pies. Everyone was reminiscing on old jobs, catching up, and even future productions. I think it’s pretty cool that Rami is playing a Bond villain in the next big Bond movie. Is there a new bond or no? Or is it that one dude, I haven’t been to the movies in a while so I’m not sure whose who anymore. 

“Who's ready for dessert. And does anyone want coffee or tea?” I think I officially stuffed their faces and stomachs nicely. 

“Coffee for me Lucy?” Rami asked as she took a sip of her wine. 

“Coffee please.” 

“Two coffees.” Allen added as I looked over at Bonnie and Joe. 

“So probably just a bunch of coffee then.” They were off in their own world anyhow. 

Gwil and I walked inside the house as I reached into the fridge to pull out the dessert. He looked underneath the foil as I slid over and hid it from him. 

“Help me with the coffee and you’ll get a nice slice for yourself.” I told him as I grabbed my shredded coffee beans to start making the coffee. Gwil snuck up behind me as he wrapped himself around the back of me. His lips began pecking the side of my neck as I began giggling a little bit. 

“Gwil...hehe..Stop. You’re distracting me.” His lips stopped traveling along my neck as I spun around to face him. A large smile was on his face as I placed my hands on his cheeks, then squishing them together. 

“You come up here so much you might as well just move in.” I told him with his cheeks still pushed together. He mumbled something as I let go to work on the coffee. I should have enough mugs for everyone, should probably pop onto Etsy and get some more if I can. 

“So is that a no?” Ten cups of coffee? That should do it. 

“What’s a no? Did you not want coffee cause I have plenty of tea.” I began filling the coffee pot with the hot water as 

“What if I moved in here with you? I know it would be a hassle for work at first and I would be in London or a few days out of the week. But what if I did move in with you?” The hot water began spilling over the pot as I almost dropped it in the sink. Move in? Wait what? What? WHAT!? Move in? Who on earth would want to move in with me? I live so far up north! It’s a super damp winter! No one wants to live in a super damp winter! 

“I’ll take your silence as a no. Too soon I guess.” Well it’s a super damp winter and I’m only available in certain times because I have two pubs to run and barely have the time to see him or anything. Wait he’s an actor! We hardly see each other in the first place because he’s busy traveling the world already!

“I’ll get a key made for ya as soon as I..Gwil?” When I turned around, he was already outside with the dessert with him. Ah crap! I walked out into the doorway as everyone was digging into the dessert. His head popped up with a little disappointment as I shot him a smile. Should be able to get it made in a few days or so, with him staying there it should be rather easy to give him a copy of the key. Not that I ever lock my door because everyone knows not to come on my property. 

“Coffee will be out in just a few moments everyone.”

I think living with him would be rather fun. 

Taglist:

@leah-halliwell92​ @jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​ @bonafiderocketqueen​ @dancingcoolcat​ @yourlocalmusicalprostitute​ @johndeaconshands​

[briansclogss]

Just Say It

Pairing(s): RogerxReader , BrianxReader

Word Count: 4.5k

Summary: On the night you and Brian decide to announce your engagement, Roger has an important confession to make. 

Warnings: SUPER angsty, also some swearing, and a bit of fluff thrown in for good measure!

A/N: Thank you so much to @sweet-ladyy for being the beta reader for my first fic ever! Your input was incredibly helpful, and gave me the boost of confidence to post this!

I hope you all enjoy!

As you sat by the door waiting for Brian to finish putting on his tie, you couldn’t help but admire the ring on your left hand. With its intricate design and encrusted diamonds, the ring signified your engagement to the incredible guitarist who’d stolen your heart nearly a decade ago.

You’d met him at one of Queen’s first shows in university. The moment you’d seen him strumming his guitar in a local pub you swore you’d never seen anyone so beautiful in your life.

It hadn’t always been smooth sailing for the two of you. Queen’s constant cycle of recording and touring for years on end had caused you and Brian to dance around your feelings for years.

But here you were, waiting for your fiancé to slip on his shoes so that the pair of you could head to Freddie’s for dinner. Your engagement was still fresh, and both of you had been dying to tell the rest of the band. You’d decided that an intimate dinner at Freddie’s was the perfect time to announce it.

“Are you ready love?” Brian gave you a cheeky smile.

You rolled your eyes playfully, giving him a smile. No matter what the occasion, you were always ready at least twenty minutes before him.

As you stood to open the front door Brian stopped you and began to gently run his hands up and down your arms.

“You look incredible tonight,” his voice came out in a nearly breathless whisper as he planted a soft kiss on your forehead.

You didn’t try to suppress your blush as you took his hand and lead him out the door.

---------------

You pulled up to Freddie’s house in a matter of minutes. You and Brian had recently bought a house in the same area, anticipating starting a family soon after your marriage. The thought made your heart flutter in your chest.

Despite the proximity of your homes, Freddie’s must have been twice as grand, and had almost as much personality as the owner himself.

As you and Brian walked to hand-in-hand to the entrance, the reality of the night began to hit you.

“Sorry Bri, can we stop for a second?” you asked your fiancé, giving his hand a tight squeeze.

“Everything alright, love?” His face was contorted in an adorable look of concern.

“Yeah, of course. Just a bit nervous is all.”

You gave him a shy smile. You weren’t completely sure why you were feeling so nervous. After all, you were extremely close with all the boys, having known them since Queen’s early days. Telling them about your engagement should be as easy as telling family. Maybe that’s why you were so nervous. Just like with family, you wanted the boys to approve of your and Brian’s engagement.

You knew it was a ridiculous thing to worry about, seeing as the boys had never been anything but supportive of your relationship. Still, you couldn’t calm the butterflies in your stomach as you and Brian reached the door.

Brian turned to you, giving you a soft smile.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Ready.” Your stomach did a flip as Brian rang the doorbell.

------------

In the living room Freddie, John, and Roger sat, each nursing a drink as they awaited your arrival.

“Where the hell are they?” Roger huffed, setting down his drink so that he could pace around the room. He was getting restless thinking about your and Brian’s impending arrival, and the ‘special announcement’ that was promised to come with it.

“What do you reckon they want to tell us anyways?’ Roger asked, flipping through Freddie’s collection of albums.

“Probably adopted a dog or something” John snorted, “He kept going on about the two of them reaching a new ‘relationship milestone’” he said giving air quotes, “Whatever that means…”

Just as Roger was about to reply with a sarcastic comment of his own, the doorbell chimed, signalling your arrival.

“And speak of the devil! That’ll be them!” Freddie exclaimed, hurrying off to answer the door.

Despite his best efforts to remain calm, Roger couldn’t help the sudden pounding in his chest, or fumbling of his hands as he tried to place an album back on the shelf.

As he turned around he could have sworn his breath caught in his chest at the sight of you. Roger couldn’t help but think about how stunning you looked as you entered the room. But his nerves were quickly replaced with a sudden jolt of jealousy as he looked at your and Brian’s entwined hands. He felt guilty for thinking about you and feeling the way he did.

After all, you were with Brian, and Brian was his best friend. Friends were not supposed to be jealous of their friends. And he knew without a doubt that he should be happy for Brian, but he couldn’t ignore the sting that came from watching you with a man that wasn’t him.

-------------

“Freddie!” you beamed as he opened the door and excitedly welcomed you and Brian into his house.

“It’s been far too long, darling!”

He opened his arms and you leaned in for a hug, quickly slipping your engagement ring off in the process. You and Brian had decided to make your announcement during dessert. ‘That way it’ll be sweeter!’ he’d joked on the car ride over.

As Freddie led you to the living room you couldn’t help but smile at the small details that made the house uniquely Freddie. From the paintings to the the piano in the corner of the room, everything in his home perfectly encapsulated his style. You felt a rush of excitement thinking about how you and Brian would decorate your new home.

You’d pick out the furniture and decorate the inside of the house, and Brian would be responsible for the garden in the back. He’d been over the moon about the idea of installing bird feeders and planting flowers for the bees to pollinate. And of course, you would convert one of the rooms into a studio for Brian to play whenever inspiration struck him. Even if that was more often than not at two in the morning.

As you entered the living room you were greeted by John’s warm embrace.

“Hi John!” You gave him a wide smile. “How are the kids?”

His face lit up at the mention of his children. John was relatively soft spoken, but once you got him talking about his kids he wouldn’t shut up.

“Doing well, the youngest one’s just lost his first tooth!” He beamed.

You smiled and shared a knowing look with Brian. You’d recently started discussing the prospect of having children of your own. It just seemed like the next big step after you two were married.

As you parted ways with John you noticed Roger’s mop of blond hair near the record player. He was awkwardly fumbling with an album as he tried to place it back on the shelf.

You let go of Brian’s hand and slipped away to greet Roger. Brian was still fully consumed by John’s anecdote about the tooth fairy.

“Hey stranger.” you tapped Roger lightly on the shoulder.

“Oh hey y/n!” He jumped a little, clearly startled, and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. He seemed slightly on edge but you dismissed it, giving him a quick hug and a peck on the cheek.

Roger cleared his throat and turned back to the shelf full of albums. He hoped you couldn’t see the embarrassing shade of pink that had begun to colour his cheeks.

“You look…” Roger began, but his words were cut off by the loud laughs of the three men behind you.

“Sorry Rog, I didn’t catch that.”

He cleared his throat and turned back around to face you.

“I said, you look good tonight. The two of you,” he quickly added, “here together.”

You blushed and thanked him. Little did you know that what he really meant was that you looked gorgeous tonight, every time he saw you in fact. And whenever he saw you with Brian, his heart broke just a little because he wished it was him you were dressing up for, not his best friend.

Just as you were about to ask Roger about his most recent trip to Japan with John, you felt you a warm, gentle touch on your back that could only belong to one person.

“How are you mate!” Brian exclaimed, pulling Roger in for a brotherly hug.

Roger looked taken aback by Brian’s unusually energetic greeting, but you knew exactly why he was so excited. Despite his calm demeanor on the drive over, you knew that Brian was just as eager as you to tell the boys about your engagement.

As Brian and Roger started talking about a new album Roger has picked up, a timer went off, signalling that the food was ready.

“And that will be supper,” Freddie exclaimed, “you two came just in time!”

He took you by the hand and lead you into the dining room.

“I had your favourite made” he said, “thought it was appropriate since you and Brian have a ‘special announcement’ to make” he gave you a teasing smile.

You couldn’t help the smile of your own that spread across your face as you sat down for dinner.

—————

The meal had been delicious, and the conversation as free flowing as the wine that was passed around the table.

In spite of the comfort and ease you felt around the boys on a daily basis, you couldn’t stop your leg from bouncing nervously throughout the meal.

While Freddie, John, and Roger were too caught up in their conversation to notice, Brian could sense your nerves immediately. He placed a hand on your knee to stop the bouncing and leaned over to whisper in your ear.

“It’s alright love, we’ll tell them in no time.”

His breath tickled your ear and you two shared a sweet smile as he lightly squeezed your leg.

You turned your head back to the men in front of you and were hit with an unexpected jolt in your stomach as your eyes met Roger’s piercing blue ones.

He quickly looked away, stretching back into his seat and giving an exaggerated yawn.

“I’m about to fall asleep Fred, I’d say it’s time for some coffee and desserts, yeah?”

And with that, you all got up and made your way back to the living room for dessert. And more importantly, for your special announcement.

—————-

After you’d finished your cake and the coffee had gone cold, you and Brian finally decided it was time to tell the boys. Brian could tell you were close to bursting from excitement, so he reached over taking your hand in his and cleared his throat.

“So I know you’ve all been waiting for our special news tonight.”

“Yeah mate, we were wondering when you’d get to that,” John teased.

“Anyways,” Brian continued, “as you all know, y/n and I have been together for a while now, and we’ve fancied each other for a lot longer than that.”

The boys murmured in agreement at that.

“...and so we decided that, we’ll actually it was me who went and—"

“Oh will you just get on with it!” Roger interrupted, shifting on the couch.

“Oh hush Roger!” Freddie quipped, “they were just about to tell us.”

“Well, you know what they say” you took over for Brian, “first comes the house, then comes marriage…” you trailed off, pulling out your engagement ring and discretely slipping it back onto your finger.

“Alright, and…” John said, clearly confused about what you were implying. None of the boys had noticed your ring yet.

You were spared from having to explain because in a small voice that belonged to the blond drummer, you heard,

“They’re engaged.”

“Yes, yes we are!” Brian exclaimed.

He was positively beaming with delight. You excitedly showed off your ring to the boys as they got up to give you each a hug.

“How wonderful!”

Freddie and John each gave you and Brian tight hugs.

“I always knew you two would end up together,” Freddie dropped his voice so that only you could hear, “I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. Not even when you two were broken up.”

You began to tear up at Freddie’s words, remembering how you and Brian had taken a break for several months due to the strain of Queen’s constant touring. The fact that you and Brian were now engaged only seemed to solidified the fact that you two were meant to be together.

“I think this calls for some celebratory drinks!” Freddie called over his shoulder as he put an upbeat record on.

Meanwhile, John was excitedly pressing Brian about wedding details.

“Oh, I don’t know really, we’ve only been engaged for a little while.” Brian laughed at John’s enthusiasm.

You were about to join in on their conversation when you noticed an absence in the room.

Roger. Where had he gone?

You excused yourself to go to the washroom, instead poking your head into every room in search of the drummer.

—————

After searching most of the main floor, and even the garden, you finally spotted the back of the blond’s head as you passed by the kitchen.

“There you are! I’ve been looking this place up and down for you!”

You gave Roger a wide smile as he turned around, clearly startled by your presence for a second time tonight. But your smile faltered, quickly being replaced by a look of concern as you took in the sight in front of you.

Roger’s eyes were red-rimmed and...wet.

He’d been crying.

“Oh Roger, what’s happened?” You sped over to where he was sitting by the counter, reaching out a hand to place on his shoulder.

He backed away from your touch.

You furrowed your brows, hurt by Roger’s evasion.

He felt awful. You must be upset that he’d run off after your announcement, not even giving a word of congratulations. He was embarrassed that you’d found him alone sulking in a kitchen while everyone else was celebrating. He felt selfish and pathetic.

Most of all, he hated how heartbroken he was over that fact that you were going to marry Brian. The sight of the elegant ring on your hand was enough to make him feel nauseated.

He wanted you to leave so that he could be sulk in peace.

“Roger, please tell me what’s going on,” you pleaded, “we’ve known each other for years. You can tell me anything.”

You hesitantly reached out to touch his arm. This time he let you. He let out a deep sigh as you began to rub comforting circles on his back.

“Roger, it’s alright,” you softened your voice, “you can trust me.”

He felt absolutely pathetic. He had walked out on your and Brian’s engagement announcement only for you to find him crying in Freddie’s kitchen. The reality that you’d never be his coupled with the fact that you were unknowingly comforting him about it was too much for him to handle.

“No, I can’t talk about it with you.” He sighed. “It’s nothing. Really y/n, you should go find the rest of the guys. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Roger ran his hands through his hair, turning away as you tried to hide his face from you again.

You wanted to be understanding, but you were starting to become slightly annoyed, not to mention concerned, by his avoidance of the issue.

“Listen Roger, I don’t want to press you, but it’s clearly not ‘nothing’.” You couldn’t remember ever seeing him so upset. “I know it might be hard to talk about, but I promise you’ll feel better once you’ve gotten it off your chest.”

“You don’t get it, y/n!” His sudden burst caused you to take a step back. “I don’t have an issue talking about it. I just can’t tell you about it!”

He jumped off his stool and began to pace as he tried to collect himself. He didn’t want this to happen. Not here, and not now. This wasn’t how you were supposed to discover his feelings for you.

“Oh…” You were hurt, but not surprised that Roger didn’t want to tell you. You figured he might be more comfortable talking to one of the boys. Maybe you should go and get Brian.

But just as you had the thought of fetching your fiancé, another thought entered your mind.

Roger had been on edge the entire night. In fact, he’d seemed oddly nervous for such a self- assured guy. Not to mention the times you’d caught him staring throughout the night (a common occurrence, now that you thought about it). And then there was the final piece of the puzzle. While Freddie and John had excitedly congratulated you and Brian on your engagement, Roger was nowhere to be found. Instead, he’d been alone in the kitchen. Crying.

You knew it was a long shot, and you didn’t want to make things worse by offending Roger, but you thought you had an inkling about what was upsetting him.

“Is this...is this about me?” you asked hesitantly.

“What?” His tone was panicked as he lifted his face from his hands to meet your eyes. He looked like a deer caught in the headlights. This could not be happening.

“I mean, is this about Brian and I? You know...our engagement?”

Roger suddenly looked very pale. Oh fuck...this definitely could not be happening right now.

Tonight was meant to be one of the happiest nights of your and Brian’s lives and he was about to ruin it. As much as his brain was telling him to just shut up and not ruin two perfectly  good friendships, he couldn’t quiet the nagging in the back of his mind. It was a faint voice, but it was insistent, and it was begging him to just tell you, because this might be his last chance.

Roger was scared to death, but he knew it was what he had to do. If he didn’t tell you now, he would regret it for the rest of his life. He like he was going to throw up from what he was about to confess. On shaky legs he turned to face you, his face showing a mix of fear and determination.

“It’s ok Roger” you reassured him,

Just say it. He thought to himself.

And he did.

He said the five words that you had subconsciously expected, but they still shocked you all the same.

“I’m in love with you.”

They words left his lips in what was nearly a whisper.

You could see the beginnings of fresh tears that started to gather in his eyes. His gaze left yours and his eyes met the floor as tears began to roll down his cheeks. He went to sit back at the counter, silent sobs racking his body.

You were at a complete loss. You said his name like an exhale and went to sit on the stool next to him. The last thing you wanted was to hurt Roger. He was one of the most important people in your life. But you were utterly floored by his confession.

After a moment of silence, you coaxed his eyes up to meet yours.

“Roger, where is this coming from?”

He looked confused and heartbroken at your question.

“What do you mean ‘where is this coming from’?” He gave you an incredulous look. “Isn’t it obvious?”

You shook your head.

Roger sighed and turned towards the counter, beginning to pick off the red paint that coated the countertop.

“I’ve been in love with you for years,” he said, looking utterly defeated. “...was going to ask you out back in uni but you started dating Bri. I couldn’t mess with that you know…” He was beginning to ramble. “...he’s my best mate, and I love him to death…”

Despite his nerves, Roger felt relief wash over him as he slowly started to confess the secret he’d kept bottled up for years. He was starting to go off on a tangent about the day you two had met in your cellular biology lecture, but you let him continue, afraid that if you stopped him you’d never hear the rest of his confession.

“Part of me thought it wouldn’t last.” He looked down, ashamed at his words. “I was waiting for you two to break up—oh fuck, that makes me sound like a terrible friend!” He scoffed.

His eyes met yours again. The atmosphere in the kitchen suddenly feeling incredibly tense.

“And then you kissed me at that party…”

You let out a shaky breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

Shit.

You’d almost forgotten about that. You thought Roger had too.

Nearly two years ago, you’d shared a New Year’s kiss in your drunken and lonely haze. You and Brian had been taking a break at the time.

“Roger, that wasn’t supposed to mean anything,” you said softly, “it was just a friendly kiss. It didn’t mean anything.”

But just as you said it, you felt an uneasy jolt in your stomach.

Had it really meant nothing at all?

You pushed the thought away.

“But friends don’t kiss friends like that!” Roger threw his hands up in a sudden wave of anger. “Don’t you dare tell me it didn’t mean anything! That you didn’t feel what I felt!”

You didn’t answer him.

Not because what he was saying wasn’t true, but because you didn’t want to break his heart anymore tonight.

You reached a hand up to rub your face, only to find that your cheeks were wet with tears.

“We were drunk,” you said softly.

“I wasn’t,” Roger answered firmly, his jaw taut.

“I’m so sorry Rog.” Fresh tears began to stream down your face. “I just...I can’t. I can’t lead you on like this. I love Brian and I’m going to marry him. Believe me Roger, I’m flattered but—”

You were cut short by the blond’s humourless laugh.

“Flattered! For fuck’s sake, y/n, this isn’t some schoolboy crush! I’m in love with you! Do you even understand what that means?”

You knew you were hurting him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his wide, pleading eyes.

“I would give you anything. Absolutely anything, and everything. You have all of me, if you wanted it.”

He took your hand in his and you felt a sob escape your body. “I have never felt for anyone the way I feel about you.” His voice cracked at the end, full of pent-up emotion.

You were speechless.

Roger’s words may not have been the eloquent ones that made up love poems, but they were honest and raw.

“I love you, y/n,” he whispered, “please, I could make you so happy if you’d let me.”

And with those words you broke, letting out an embarrassingly loud sob.

“Roger, I just can’t,” you cried, “you’re absolutely incredible, and anyone would be lucky to have you. But I’m in love with Brian.”

He let go of your hand, clenching his jaw as he tried to hold back more tears.

“And I’m sorry Roger, but I’m going to marry him. He’s the one.”

Roger’s heart was breaking right in front of you and you wanted nothing more than to reassure him that it wasn’t him, but the circumstances that were making you reject him.

“If things had happened differently Roger, maybe we could have—”

But he cut you off.

“Don’t you dare say it,” he said in a deathly calm voice, “...because if you do, you’re just giving me more hope.”

He gently placed a hand beneath your chin, tilting your face up so that your eyes met. Your breath caught as your teary eyes met his now red-rimmed ones.

“If it really meant nothing, if all of this is just in my head, then look me in the eyes and tell me that you feel nothing for me.”

His eyes were pleading you for an answer.

Your brain felt foggy from the flurry of emotion that surrounded the room. You knew what you had to do. The right thing to do would be to let him down firmly. You wanted to be kind and gentle, but you couldn’t leave him with any doubts surrounding your relationship.

But you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t bring yourself to say anything at all.

You knew it was the exact opposite of what you should have done, but you raised your right hand and rested it on his cheek.

Roger let out a deep sigh and closed his eyes. His face relaxed into an expression somewhere between heartache and relief.

You had no idea what you were doing. All you knew was that you shouldn’t be going this. But somehow, it just felt right in the moment.

You didn’t have too much time to think about what you would do next.

In an instant you and Roger were startled by the sound of three voices booming down the hall.

You both sprang apart. Roger stood up and busied himself by looking in the fridge while you picked up an old newspaper on the counter, pretending to read.

“Well they couldn’t have left Brian! That would be absolutely ridiculous!”

You could begin to pick up on Freddie’s district voice as the boys nearer the kitchen.

“Ah, there you are!” You heard your fiancé’s warm voice as the three men entered the kitchen.

You quickly dried your eyes and gave Brian your most convincing smile. Always the attentive one, he immediately noticed your puffy eyes.

“What’s wrong love? Have you been crying?” His expression morphed into one of concern. You knew you couldn’t evade Brian’s question. Something had clearly happened.

Freddie and John looked expectantly over Brian’s shoulders.

“Yes, yes I’m fine Bri! I was just getting emotional is all. Reminiscing about old times with Roger, you know.”

It wasn’t a complete lie.

“Oh, alright then love,” Brian’s smile returned to his face. “I was thinking we should get going. It’s getting late and...I want a bit of time with you to myself.”

He whispered the last part in your ear, causing a pleasant shiver to make its way down your spine. Though you felt guilty as your eyes met Roger’s from across the counter.

In spite of Freddie and John’s jovial moods, you were eager to get home, to escape your conversation with Roger.

You felt ashamed for leaving Roger hanging. For inadvertently leading him on with your non-answer. But you needed time to process what had happened tonight and get your emotions in check.

As you and Brian said your goodbyes to the boys, you quietly promised you’d give him a call.

“This conversation isn’t over Rog, there’s still a lot we need to discuss.”

He nodded in agreement. He placed a soft kiss on your cheek.

To the rest of the men in the kitchen it appeared to be nothing more than a friendly peck, but you knew it meant so much more.

You could feel Roger’s longing for you as his lips left your cheek.

Your heart ached at the thought.

And that night, as you lay in the arms of your sleeping fiance you couldn’t fight the intense waves of guilt. Because as you were held by the man to whom you’d given your heart, all you could think about was his best friend.

Thank you so much for reading my first  fic ever! If you liked it, or have any feedback, I’d love to know! xx

[gwilyoubemine]

Professor Gwil finding you and another boy in a closed room making out (as the two of you are non exclusive) and he gets really jealous and so takes you into his room and punishes you on his desk

this has been sitting in my notes for too long so here goes,, nearly 7K words worth of prof!gwil (in some sort of fic headcanon hybrid?)

warning: sexual content ahead

• your free period today was being spent tutoring- a task you had taken on last minute, and only because you owed finn a favour. finn was one of your classmates and when it came to tests, he just about scraped a pass most of the time.

•  with finn struggling with biology the most and exam season just around the corner, it was no surprise that he had come running to you with that pleading tone of his and his toothy grin, begging you to at least give him a few lessons.

• the pair of you had only become acquainted a few months ago at a party hosted by a mutual friend. finn was a nice enough guy. he managed to be somewhat charming and had a surprisingly honeyed smile. what started off with casual conversation and a bit of dancing eventually ended up with the two of you drunkenly making out in the bathroom by the end of the night.

• the monday following was awkward, to say the least. during class you felt finn's gaze burning into the side of your head and by lunch, you found yourself torn between wanting to get the imminent conversation over with and wanting to disappear entirely. your friends, unlike you, found the entire situation beyond entertaining and exacerbated things by showing you photos they had taken of the two of you, drunk and all over each other.

• you managed to avoid finn for a solid week before he finally cornered you after your history lesson. when he asked if you wanted to put that night aside to focus on building a friendship, you agreed, wanting to be done with all the awkwardness as soon as possible. whilst you didn't exactly become best friends, you nodded to each other in class and spoke occasionally at social gatherings. and soon you fell into something of a bad habit, finding finn midway through a party when you were tipsy and letting him take you somewhere private. 

• the only reason you agreed to tutor him was because he had helped you out when you needed an emergency ride to the train station. the fact you had recently put an end to whatever unspoken arrangement the two of you had also pushed you towards accepting his request. it certainly made it easier to entertain the thought of being in a classroom alone with him.

• "thank you for agreeing to this, by the way. i really can't fail these exams coming up."

• you were seated in one of the free biology classrooms with one of the chunky revision guides between you. "it's fine, really." you waved him off and opened the book up to the section on photosynthesis. "you wanted to go over this, right?"

• finn sat up straighter and eyed the title of the chapter. "yeah...i really hate photosynthesis. i never knew plants were so complicated, to be honest with you." 

• "well, you just have to learn what's in the book and you'll be fine." you offered him a reassuring smile and his lips jerked into a grin. "so what are you teaching me first, miss?" he asked and you shoved him with your foot as you pulled your laptop out of your bag.

• you went through the short presentation you had made on the topic- covering why plants photosynthesised, the main pigments involved, the importance of the formation of atp and the details of the two different stages that made up the process. and much to your surprise, finn seemed to pay attention through the entirety of your presentation. he made notes after each slide and bombarded you with a stream of questions to clarify what he was learning. you asked him questions every now and then and he managed to answer most of your questions correctly.

• "you're doing really well." you commented, unable to hide the surprise in your voice. "i'm impressed." 

• "jeeze, y/n, i'm not as stupid as you think." he retorted and the wide grin plastered on his face assured you he was not actually offended. "with you laying out the content this way and explaining everything in simpler terms...it's easier to grasp," he paused and rubbed the back of his head with a chuckle. "well, most of it."

• "i'm glad you think so. i have a sheet of questions for you based on my slides. i think it will really help you." you handed him your sheet and he looked over the questions with an appreciative nod. "looks good. i'll do them now."

• ten minutes into the question sheet, finn was getting restless. you put down the book you had been reading to pass the time and cocked your head at him. "had enough of studying?"

• "i have answered most of them, have a look." he shuffled closer to you so your knees were touching and pushed the sheet towards you. he had in fact answered most of the questions. you looked over at him and his gaze lowered to your lips, his voice dropping a tone. "you know, y/n, we have some time until we have to be out of this room.

• you swallowed as your mind turned to gwilym. the idea of kissing someone else felt wrong and the fact it felt wrong managed to irk you. whatever was between the two of you was casual, that much was clear- he had never made anything was exclusive and never expressed any opinions in regards to you hooking up with anyone else. 

• finn's hand settled on your knee and you bit down on your lip as he started to close the distance between the two of you. you didn't press forward to kiss him but when he took your chin and brushed his lips against yours you didn't stop him either. 

• you had been making out for a few minutes when the sound of someone clearing their throat had you both scrambling away from each other, quick to compose yourselves. finn kept his eyes on the floor but your gaze flew straight to the doorway, your cheeks hot with embarrassment. of course it was professor lee himself. 

~ ~ ~ ~

• it was the first day of the new school year when you first laid eyes on your biology professor. the first thing you noticed was how handsome he was, with defined cheekbones and a chiseled jaw. he had a neatly trimmed beard and wore a long sleeved shirt that accentuated his broad shoulders and tall frame. he sat down at the desk in front of the classroom and spun his chair around to face you all, his lips breaking into a serene smile that had you completely unable to tear your eyes away from him.

• once he was settled, he swiftly began to call out everyone's names to mark down who was present and who was not. this was when he finally looked your way and met your eyes, eyes that had been curiously drinking him in from the minute he stepped into the classroom. "y/n...is my pronunciation correct?" he asked and you nodded dumbfoundedly in response, gripping a little too hard onto your pen. the sound of your name wrapped in his velvet voice made your stomach coil. 

• his gaze stayed glued to yours for a beat too long, to the point where you had to look away in embarrassment, your cheeks flaming with warmth. you were all too aware of your heart hammering away inside of your chest. you had never been attracted to anyone like this before. especially to a man his age- a man who was now your new biology professor.

• whether this fact was a curse or a blessing remained debatable to you. he ended up being a fantastic professor, he knew his field inside out and was engaging with how he taught his academic content. he was undeniably funny, even if most of his jokes were dad jokes, and somehow managed to be kind and yet firm with his students. you couldn't have asked for a better teacher.

 • your infatuation with your professor continued to grow more problematic as time went on. you constantly found yourself losing concentration in class and watching him as he marked work, your eyes eager to take in every possible detail- the way his features looked as he concentrated on the papers in front of him, his habit of absentmindedly biting on the end of his pen, his tendency to push back his glasses and rub his chin whenever he was in deep thought. 

• one day you managed to muster up the courage to find him in his office during break. you wanted to ask him for one-on-one help with a tough piece of homework he had given you this week. you expected him to be too preoccupied to help, to dismiss you with something vague, but instead he kindly beckoned you inside and pulled up a chair for you to sit down next to him.

• he started to explain the more complicated aspects of dna replication to you and whilst you were able to catch certain phrases and words, something about dna strands having a directionality and something about 'okazaki fragments', paying attention to him proved to be difficult with him situated so close to you, your legs so close to brushing against his. you were close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body, to breathe in the intoxicating scent of the cologne he wore. every time he lifted his eyes to meet yours - his attempt to make sure you were on the same page as him - you felt yourself becoming short of breath. 

• "are you following me, y/n?" he would ask every now and then, to which you would utter out a "yes, sir" even when you had no idea what he had just said. you managed to snap out of your trance and pay attention eventually, and after he had run through everything, you asked him if it would be okay to stay in his office to finish off your work- seeing as there were no quiet places to study during break. 

• professor lee seemed hesitant at first but after reassuring him that you would work in silence, he let you complete your homework at the small table perched in the corner of his office.

• you ended up doing work at that table frequently. you often found yourself in his office after school hours, completing your other assignments there. professor lee didn't seem to mind the company. most of the time you both worked in silence but you would occasionally discuss class work. and at some point during the year, the pair of you started to dabble in small talk- sharing a few personal stories, inquiring about weekend plans, discussing your favourite tv shows and movies. and whilst professor lee seemed to enjoy conversing with you, he would often steer the conversation back to more appropriate topics whenever you got carried away. 

• as the months went by, you began to see more of each other. you even started to leave school at the same time, chatting all the way down to the first set of gates and then parting ways when you got to the staff car park. he would always leave you with a "have a good evening, y/n" before offering one of his charming smiles and striding off to his car, giving you a little wave as he climbed inside. your heart was always racing as you watched him drive away.

• your infatuation soon began to bleed into your subconscious, manifesting in your dreams. when you finally allowed yourself to consciously indulge in your affection for him, you found it extremely hard to divert your thoughts to other things. you wondered what it would feel like to run your fingers across his beard, to take his face in your hands and kiss him senseless. you ached to touch him.

• your imagination began to play out the same scenes over and over again, professor lee taking off his blazer and hastily unbuttoning his shirt to reveal a broad set of shoulders and a defined chest, his hungry gaze fixated on you. you imagined him frantically clearing his desk just to pick you up and have you sit on it, his large hands eager to strip you of your clothes and caress every inch of you, his lips hot and urgent against your skin.

• the day everything changed started out like any other day. you had chemistry, psychology and geography, a normal friday, and during your free period your friends made plans to meet in the park on saturday seeing as summer had finally come around, gracing england with good weather. finn managed to catch you before your next class and his breathlessness had you raising an eyebrow in amusement. "good job i caught you before history. are you coming to ben's party tonight?"

• "uh...i don't know…" you muttered, your hands fiddling with the straps of your backpack. in all truthfulness, you weren't exactly jumping at the opportunity to commit yourself to another party- you wanted to spend the night watching 80s movies, tucked into your bed. 

• "i knew you would say that. come on, it will be fun. ben's got monopoly too, i know you like playing that, especially when you're drunk" 

• whilst you couldn't deny that fact, you were still unsure. "fine, i'll think about it and give you an answer later?" finn perked up instantly, clearly optimistic about the possibility of you dropping by. "alright, i'll see you later then...if you come." 

• as you made your way towards your next class, your options for that night danced around in your head. you didn't know if you had the energy to go out and socialise. you also knew that finn would probably make a move on you if you did show up, and you didn't have the heart to kiss him when someone else was occupying your mind. the image of your professor flashed in your head and your pulse picked up instantly. 

• despite you not having biology that day and it being friday (meaning most students were making a beeline straight to the school gates) you, on the other hand, found yourself making your way towards professor lee's office when your last class ended. 

• you knocked once and then twice before you heard a quiet "come in" and the familiarly of his silky voice stirred up an array of feelings inside your chest- excitement, anxiousness, tenderness. you poked your head around the door and found his gaze already fixed in your direction. "hello sir... is it okay if i come in?"

• "yes y/n... of course, come in" he beckoned you inside with a quick hand gesture, and you closed the door behind you and offered him a shy smile. professor lee had taken off his blazer and was sat in his neatly ironed white shirt, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. his glasses had fallen down the bridge of his nose and his hair was slightly more mussed than usual, a result of what you assumed was hours of running his hands through his hair as he worked. 

• "doing work on a friday afternoon, y/n?" he asked, raising a brow. you made your way to the table you had become so familiar with and pulled out the biology homework he had given you in class earlier that week. "i figured i would get my homework done before the weekend, sir." 

• he nodded, a smile gracing his lips, and the two of you fell into silence as you both began to work. the minutes seemed to tick by more slowly than usual. you tried to focus solely on your homework but it was impossible with the fluttering feeling in your stomach that never seemed to ebb, not with your professor around. you settled on rotating between writing down an answer, staring blankly at the questions you didn't understand and sneaking glances at him every now and then.

• he eventually diverted his attention away from the papers in front of him to ask you what you were working on. you held up your biology homework in response and his face broke out into a satisfied smile. he pushed his glasses back up his nose and stood to make his way over to you. you couldn't help but notice how tight his shirt was around his torso.

• "how are you finding it, y/n? the details of respiration can be quite difficult to grasp."

• "it's going pretty well, i think." you mumbled, staring at empty lines beneath question three. you had been struggling with it for at least fifteen minutes. "could you perhaps run over oxidative phosphorylation again? and the electron transport chain?"

• with a firm nod, he bent down to get a closer look at the exact question you were trying to answer. "this diagram right here sums up the whole process pretty well." he mumbled, his finger circling one of the diagrams on your sheet. "everything you need to know is in there."

• you leaned forward to take a closer look and when he turned his head to speak again, he found his face inches away from yours. his mouth parted in surprise and your gaze dropped to his lips before your brain could even process how stupid it was to stare at your professor's mouth like that. he stayed frozen for a moment, his gaze betraying his conscience and dropping down to your own lips. your face flamed as the sound of his heavy breathing filled your ears. professor lee nearly stumbled over himself when he finally stood up straight and took a step backwards.

• "i should really be getting on with my work, y/n." he managed to get out after a few seconds, struggling to meet your eyes. your cheeks were still glowing. he cleared his throat and finally lifted his gaze to look at you. "but i can help you with your homework later on if you are still here working. is that alright?"

• "yes, of course, sir" you whispered with a shaky breath. at that moment in time, you thought you would never get over what had happened- your trembling lips so close to your professor's. the tense atmosphere felt suffocating.

• by the time professor lee had finished his work, you had completed most of your homework save for question three. you glanced up to the clock to see that it was 6pm before sliding your gaze over towards professor lee. to your surprise, he was already looking in your direction. the incident from earlier flashed in your mind and your head dropped in embarrassment. 

• "y/n," he said softly, adjusting the glasses perched on face. "feel free to bring your work over here, i can help you with your question now." 

• by the time he had helped you with the question, it was past 6:30 pm, meaning the school would start closing up soon. the two of you migrated back to your sides of the room and silently began to pack up your things. as you made your way towards the car park, professor lee cleared his throat and turned to you. "do you have any fun plans for the weekend?" 

• you were thankful that he was trying to converse normally with you opposed to staying silent. you didn't want any awkwardness over the incident in his office to diminish whatever bond you had made with professor lee. "well, my friends want to go to the park tomorrow. apparently, it's going to be hot. you have to make the most out of those days, as you know." he nodded in understanding, a polite smile gracing his lips. "of course, enjoy the sun while it's out."

• "i was also invited to a party tonight," you found yourself mumbling, diverting your gaze to the empty road a few metres ahead of you. "finn asked me. he's in our biology class, you teach him."

• "ah, finn adley." he said, his voice suddenly taking on a more professional tone. "will you be attending this party?" he then asked, slowing down his pace as you reached the staff car park. 

• "i don't know, sir" you uttered honestly, letting your gaze swing back to him. "i don't really want to, i kind of wanted to stay at home and watch a movie tonight."

• just as your professor opened his mouth to reply, you felt drops of rain begin to hit your bare arms. it didn't take long for it to start pouring down, which was ironic considering the weather was supposed to be good during this time of year. typical england.

• it took seconds for the two of you to get soaked from head to toe. you glanced around to seek out the nearest dry spot but the idea of finding shelter when you were already so wet felt silly. you grudgingly accepted the fact you probably looked like a wet dog. 

• "this is very unfortunate." professor lee muttered, an amused smile tugging at his lips. a quick look across the road to the bus stop nearby reminded you that you needed to check when your bus was due to arrive.

• "very unfortunate, just my luck." you found yourself sighing, and yet the small smile playing at his lips was somehow contagious. you probably looked a little mad, scrambling through your bag to find your phone, dripping wet, with a silly smile plastered on your face. you briefly wondered why professor lee was still planted next to you when his car was so close by.

• "40 minutes until my next bus" you muttered aloud in disbelief when the page finally loaded, your smile dropping instantly. you groaned as you wiped away the drops of rain that had gathered on your phone screen. "i think i am just going to wait back in the school, sir"

• professor lee frowned at this. his hair was now matted to his forehead and his blazer dripped with water. "no, they'll be starting to shut the place down now." he lifted a hand to comb his fingers through his hair, pushing the wet strands away from his face before taking off his glasses to dry the lenses with his shirt. you couldn't help but stare at him in awe. you felt dizzy with the want to run your own hungry hands through his hair, to grab fistfuls of his wet shirt and slam your lips to his. 

• "you're going to get a cold waiting around in this weather. i think i should just give you a lift home." he said as he met your eyes, his voice curling around you like warm honey. "does that sound okay?"

• you found yourself replying with a quiet 'yes' a beat too soon. you cleared your throat to compose yourself and tried again. "yes, that would be very nice of you. thank you for offering, professor."

• his mouth broke into a seraphic smile and when he turned to walk towards his car, you were hot on his heels- desperate to escape the rain. after you had climbed into the passenger seat, he ramped up the heating and started the car. "hopefully, you'll dry up in here."

• "i hope so. thank you for offering to drop me home, i really do appreciate it." you mumbled, watching him as he checked his rear view mirrors. after telling him your address, and laughing over the fact his gps system didn't even work, you both agreed that you would just give him directions. 

• "so, professor, are you married? dating anyone?" you found yourself asking him after fifteen minutes of casual conversation. he was just coming off the roundabout near your road. his eyes flickered over to you and the sudden silence that enveloped the car made you regret asking such a personal question. 

• "no." he answered eventually, something of an airy chuckle leaving his lips. "i am not married. or dating anyone." 

• you swallowed thickly and tried to shove away the hopefulness bubbling up inside of you. "i'm sorry if that question came across as invasive-"

• professor lee shook his head, his lips curling in amusement. "no, it's fine. most of my friends are married though, a lot of them have kids too." 

• "that's nice," you started, biting down on your lip. "i mean- for them." you added quickly, your face growing warm. "not for you, well, maybe it is. i don't know what i'm saying."

• professor lee chuckled again. "yes, it must be nice to have a family to come home to. i'm not complaining about being single though, being a lone wolf has its perks."

• you tried to stop yourself from saying something inappropriate but for some reason your brain had lost its filter. "i'm surprised you're not married, professor" you found yourself mumbling. 

• professor lee cleared his throat and asked if he should take a left or a right. the embarrassment of your statement being ignored seemed to swallow you up. "left."

• after he had turned onto the long road that would eventually lead to your own street, he began to speak again. "why are you surprised?" he asked tentatively, surprising you by bringing up the subject again. 

• you swallowed hard before replying. "well, you're extremely good looking for a start," you began, and even with his eyes trained on the road ahead, you could see the surprise in his features, the way his knuckles were turning white from gripping the steering wheel a little too hard. you didn't know where the sudden confidence had come from but at that point you no longer cared about the consequences of what you were saying. "you're kind, funny, and not to mention charming. i think anyone would find it surprising that no woman has snatched you up yet."

• before he had the chance to reply, you quickly informed him that you had reached your street, the regret from what you just admitted finally sinking in. "you can drop me off here, sir, i can walk the rest of the way."

• he pulled up in an empty space and just as you were about to escape out of the door, you felt professor lee's hand curl around your wrist. you sat back down slowly and turned to face him, your brows knitted together in confusion. "yes, professor?" he stared at you silently for a moment, his confliction transparent in his features. he looked torn and frustrated. for a while he was unable to form any words. 

• with a deep breath he pulled his hand away from yours and began to speak. "y/n" he said softly before pausing. he sighed quietly and rubbed at his beard. "i'm 35 years old. i'm your biology professor. i'm very flattered by what you just said but this, you and i, just can't happen." his tone softened even more. "you know it can't."

• you averted your gaze and tried to will yourself to respond casually, to brush off this rejection as if you didn't care. "right." you found yourself whispering, your voice coming off as detached. "i understand, professor." you heard him sigh again and the pang of sadness you felt was overwhelming. you opened the door again and stepped out before he could say anything else. "if that is all... i should be getting home now-"

• "y/n." he called, his voice tight and urgent. he quickly climbed out of the car and rushed around it to stop you from walking off. he hesitated for a moment, his breath leaving him in harsh bursts. "i said this can't happen but i didn't say-" he stopped and stared at you for a moment, an intense gaze that made your body temperature skyrocket. "i didn't… i didn't say that I don't want it happen."

• "professor-" you started meekly, feeling completely and utterly tongue tied. a myriad of emotions began to settle within you- confusement, excitement, skepticism. you were suddenly aware of the aching in your core, your desire to drag his body closer and take and take and take. 

• "god, what am i doing." he muttered, more to himself, as he turned away from you. his voice was thick with feelings you couldn't quite put your finger on. "it would be much appreciated if you forgot about this conversation for now, y/n- i'll see you in class on monday." 

• this time it was you who reached out for him. without thinking, you extended your hand and grabbed onto his shoulder to whirl him around. he was stunned for a second but when you planted your hands on his face to tug his lips down to meet yours, he was quick to settle his hands on your hips to pull your body close. you couldn't help but moan quietly as your lips found his. his touch seemed to burn through the damp fabric of your clothes and ignite deep something within you.

• he kissed you harder and lifted a hand to cup your face, barely able to keep himself from slamming you against the car and letting his hands roam freely over your body. you pressed closer to him and grabbed a fistful of his hair. you swallowed his low moan greedily and gasped when he pulled you even closer, to the point where your body was flush against his. you were hyper aware of all the sensations you were experiencing - the feeling of his stubble brushing against your skin as he kissed you, the feeling of his warm body moulding against yours, his tongue eager to part your lips and explore your mouth.

• "we should stop before i get carried away." professor lee rasped when he eventually pulled away from you, saliva glistening against his lips. the sight had you clenching your thighs together, itching to kiss him again. you let your hands fall from his hair and watched him as his licked his lips and pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. he found himself distracted by how red your lips were, swollen from how intensely he had kissed you. he swallowed.

• "good idea." you whispered softly. the sky was an expanse of black ink and the trees around you rustled as a gentle breeze danced through the air. you flashed him a smile and settled your hand against his cheek, your thumb beginning to caress the stubble on his face. 

• "i would like it if you called me gwilym outside of class." he declared as your thumb brushed against his lips.

• "gwilym?" you found yourself asking incredulously, your lips jerking up in amusement. "i didn't expect that..."

• "it's the welsh variation of william." he informed you, his lips stretched into a bemused smile. he pressed a gentle kiss to your pad of your thumb, his eyes glued to yours.

• " a name i won't forget," you pulled your hand away from his face and suddenly felt sheepish despite everything. "i should get going, professor--" you paused, your skin tingling as your lips formed the foreign name. "gwilym." 

• professor lee's smile widened and he remained silent as he watched you, savouring the moment between the two of you. "goodnight y/n. enjoy your weekend and i'll see you next week." and with one last beguiling smile, he returned back to his car and sped off down the road.

~ ~ ~ ~

• "what is the meaning of this?" professor lee asked the two of you, his jaw tight. he strode forward and you found yourself sinking down into your seat. you had never felt more guilty in your life.

• "sorry sir." finn mumbled, crossing his arms over his cheat. "y/n was tutoring me-"

• "that didn't look like tutoring to me." professor lee was careful not to raise his voice but his anger was still very much apparent. "please save such activities for outside of school, finn." he turned to you and your breath got stuck in your throat when his fiery eyes met yours. his eyes dropped to your neck and a flash of emotions quickly passed over his face- disbelief disgust, frustration. "i'd suggest you button up your shirt, y/n."

• you glanced down to see a freshly made hickey, purple and prominent against your skin. with a grimace, you quickly buttoned up your shirt. you made sure to keep your eyes on the table in front of you. 

• professor gwil made his way over to the door again and opened it forcefully, a scowl on his face. "both of you get out. i better not see anything like this in the future, from either of you."

• "yes, sir." the two of you uttered quietly before quickly packing away your things and trudging over to professor lee. finn was all too keen to be out of there and was gone before you even had a chance to reach the door. 

• "you," gwilym uttered lowly as he took a step closer to you. "my office, immediately."

• you nodded, unable to speak and left to make your way towards his office on the second floor. you took a seat at your table in the corner and put your hands in your lap, unsure of what to do with yourself. you began to fiddle with them nervously as the seconds ticked by. you were practically trembling in anticipation. 

• when gwilym finally entered the room, he locked the door behind him and tossed his blazer onto his chair. "come here, y/n." he commanded firmly and you were quick to make your way over to him, suddenly feeling like a child about to get scolded by their parent.

• "so what, are the two of you dating? is it a casual thing?" is the first thing he asked you, his face stern.

• "no, we're not dating. we had a casual thing in the past but there's nothing going on anymore. it was just a spur of the moment kiss-"

• gwilym closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples, unsure of how to proceed with the situation. whilst he didn't exactly want to come across as jealous, there was no hiding the fact he was seething with anger. "and the hickey?"

• "he just got carried away." you muttered out quietly and his eyes flashed.

• he moved closer to grab onto the hem of your shirt and dragged it over your head, his hungry eyes drinking in your exposed skin. "no one's allowed to touch you but me." 

• gwilym wrapped his arms around you, hiking you up against the nearest wall with a low growl. he pressed his lips to the sensitive skin of your neck, gently at first. "especially not finn." his gentleness vanished as he bit down on the skin where your hickey was, spurred on by the shaky moan that slipped out of your lips.

• he sucked hard on the skin and trailed his lips lower to lick teasingly at your cleavage, letting his teeth scrape lightly against your skin. "gwilym." you choked out, your voice tight. 

• "who do you belong to?" he asked before biting down hard on one of your breasts. you cried out and curled your hands into his hair. "you." 

• gwilym yanked your bra down and took one of your breasts in his hand, kneading the skin roughly as he lifted his head to meet your eyes. "say it again."

• "you. i belong to you." you rasped, tightening your hold on his hair when he pinched your nipple between his thumb and finger. he let out a noise of satisfaction and willed himself to pull away from you, barely being able to tear his eyes away from your exposed breasts. 

• "onto my desk, now." he said thickly and with weak legs you made your way over to his desk, carefully seating yourself on the edge of it.

• gwilym approached you slowly, his eyes drinking in the sight of you. "take that bra off, and your skirt."

• you complied, your hands beginning to tremble as you unzipped your skirt. you were dizzy with how turned on you were. once you had managed to pull your skirt down over your hips, you pressed your legs together as heat flooded your cheeks. you didn't want him seeing how wet your panties were.

• "why so shy, pet?" gwilym's deep voice stirred something within you and had you gripping onto the edge of his desk. he sat down on his leather chair and leaned back, crossing his legs as he examined you. a hint of a smile crossed his lips and you swallowed thickly.

• "let me see you, open those pretty legs for me." he drawled, his eyes dancing lower. you let your legs fall open and the hitch in his breath didn't go unnoticed. he cursed beneath his breath and stood to get a closer look.

• "you don't know how good you look right now, sitting on my desk with your legs spread for me." he said, his gaze fixated on your underwear. "and you're so wet for me-"

• you were so close to whining out his name, to beg him to touch you, to do anything. his hand settled on your knee, a gentle touch just to drive you closer to the edge. "i bet finn would love to see you like this. don't you think?"

• you bit down on your lip. "i-i don't know-"

• "we both know he would. he won't get the chance though, will he?" his hand drifted along your thigh and you fought the urge to cry out with how badly you needed him to touch you. "you know how this works, love, say it."

• he ran a finger along your slit through your panties and even with the fabric barrier, his touch had you arching your back and whimpering. "well?"

• "no, h-he won't get get to see me like this. never." you gasped out when his hand slipped into your underwear to rub you slowly and bucked your hips forward to grind yourself against his hand. his other hand was quick to slap your thigh, a grunt leaving his lips. "no moving."

• he pulled his hand out of your underwear and tugged the panties down over your legs to toss them aside. you couldn't help but stare at the erection straining against his black slacks.

• "i'm not happy with you, and because of that i'm not going to give you what you want just yet." he cupped your face roughly and lowered his face to yours, his hot breath fanning against your lips as he spoke. "you're going to have to be a good girl and make it up to me."

• you nodded eagerly and he moved away from you again to stand up straight. "get on your knees." 

• you followed his request with no objection and the hard floor was cold against your knees. just seeing you naked on the floor, staring up at him through your lashes had him groaning out and unbuckling his belt. he pulled his trousers down hastily, unable to wait any longer.

• you palmed his cock through his breifs and kept your eyes on him, hungry to see his face contort in pleasure. you dragged his underwear down to let his cock spring free and wasted no time in wrapping your lips around his head, your hands flying to his thighs to steady yourself.

• "fuck, that feels so good." he grabbed a fistful of your hair and willed himself not to thrust forward as you took more of him inside your mouth. "you're doing so well."

• you focused on breathing through your nose as you hollowed your cheeks and pushed forward to the point where his cock was brushing against the back of your throat.

• gwilym's stuttered moan had you forcing yourself to stay there for a few seconds more before you eventually tore your face away from him, spluttering and gasping for breath.

• he stroked your hair soothingly and found your eyes, his chest and neck now flushed with heat. "what a good girl. will you let me fuck your mouth?" he asked lowly, his hand moving to swipe away the spit covering your lips and chin.

• you didn't answer him and instead wrapped your lips around as much of his cock as you could, gripping at his thighs again. he groaned and let his head fall back as he gripped onto your hair with hands, his hips slowly beginning to thrust forward. 

• your jaw ached and your eyes watered as his cock filled your mouth, sliding against the walls of your throat. you clawed at his legs and moaned around him, the throbbing in between your legs becoming harder to ignore. 

• you knew he was close when his hips began to stutter and his movements became sloppier, his sharp intakes of air punctuating every thrust. you let your jaw go slack and stared up at him with glossy eyes, challenging him to fuck your face until came.

• instead of continuing to thrust forward, he pulled away and grabbed onto your arm to yank you up onto your feet. he curled an arm around your waist and pulled you flush against him as his lips found yours. he kissed you fiercly as he backed you up against his desk. "since you've been so good," he panted against your lips, his cock brushing against your wet folds. "i'll give you something in return." 

[sokkas-first-fangirl]

What would have happened if Singer achieved what he intended to do with Rami in his office that time?

TRIGGER WARNING: discussion of rape/non-con

***

Ooh boy, dark timeline ahead. Singer would for sure be arrested and this time put on trial. There'd be pure chaos for the team, and Rami would be reluctant to testify because he'd be worried no one would believe him, and he'd definitely worry about the film too.

I feel like it'd be a repeat of Pushing Through The Darkness, only without a baby involved. There'd likely be no official statement that it was Rami that he raped, but speculation would be rampant.

The boys would be more protective than ever, and I can actually see Joe being the one to lose it and attack Singer, the way Roger did with Paul.

Freddie would 100% be a mother hen, and I feel like Rami would cling to him and really rely on Freddie's support, both as a father figure, and as a fellow Omega.

[kenneth-omega]

Could you do 1 and 5 with Gwilym? Like some love/hate relationship? If you can't it's totally fine thank you anyway ❤

Damned If I Do **Gwilym Lee**

A/N: Thank you anon!! I went super overboard on this and wrote nearly 5k words for it, but it’s some good-ass Gwil smut. I tried to turn it into a love-to-hate-each-other relationship, with very BDE from Gwil and major Dom! vibes. So I hope you like it!

Warnings: SMUT, swearing, fingering, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex, Dom!Gwil x reader

Word count: 4.9k

PROMPTS:

1: “we’re in public, you know”

5: “mine” “say it again”

prompts came from this smutty prompt list

□■□■□■□■□

In your head you knew it was wrong of you to piss off Gwilym, but that man hadn’t half gotten on your nerves earlier today. As you sat at the all-inclusive bar next to Ben, sipping your Aperol Spritz, you cast your mind back to the events of the late afternoon.

“All I’m saying is that if you hadn’t insisted on having your hair appointment today, we wouldn’t be running late.” Gwil sighed, stood in front of the floor-length mirror, trying to fasten his bowtie. You were sat at the vanity, where you had been fixing up your makeup.

Slamming the lipstick down on the wooden surface, you turned to look over at him, eyes glaring into the back of his head.

“Are you freaking kidding me, Gwil? You’re saying this is my fault?” You snapped, watching as he started trying to tie his bowtie once more, having mucked it up for the tenth time. You could tell he wasn’t focusing properly, and that the added frustration was making his temper fray. But frankly, you couldn’t give two shits, as your own fuse was close to being blown.

“That’s not what I said–” He began, but you cut him off, getting to your feet and putting a hand up in a gesture for him to shut up.

“No, but it’s what you’re heavily implying.” You responded, stalking across the bedroom to grab your purse off the dresser top. Gwilym gave a short grunt of frustration as he almost messed up his neat bow, although you had a feeling it was also in response to your statement.

“Well, I’m ready.” You huffed, folding your arms as you stood by your hotel room door, waiting impatiently and tapping your velvet-clad, stiletto-heeled foot, as you watched his reflection in the mirror. Gwil’s eyes flickered up from his bow to look at you, before returning to watching his hands.

“Makes a change for once.” He mumbled, finally managing to get his bow fastened around his neck, pulling the black collar of his shirt down over it. You huffed through your nostrils angrily, probably looking like some enraged bull as you stood silently, shooting daggers with your eyes. You tapped your index finger against your bicep as he grabbed his wallet and began fastening a watch around his wrist.

Finally, he was ready too and stood in the middle of the room, arms extended out at his sides as he presented himself in front of you.

“Handsome as ever.” You bit out, before turning on your heels and opening the bedroom door, stalking out and down the hallway. You weren’t meaning to sound so horrible, but his last comment had driven you up the wall, and the intrusive thoughts in your mind were making you feel rather shitty.

Did you really spend too long on yourself?

You were shaken out of your little daydream by a soft hand brushing your elbow. Turning to your left you were met with Ben’s soft smile.

“You okay? You look a little lost.” He asks, picking up his bottle of beer from the bar top. You smile at his obvious concern for his friend’s girlfriend, and you know it won’t have gone unnoticed by him that you two hadn’t been speaking all night.

“I’m fine, Ben, thanks for asking.” You assure him, finishing the rest of your drink, regretting it as the bubbles tickle your nose and made your eyes water a little. Now it looked like you were getting emotional.

“You need me to get Gwil?” He asks you, starting to get off his barstool to go find your boyfriend. You grab onto his bicep, the steady muscle underneath the soft fabric of his blazer tensing up under your touch.

“No!” You exclaim. Ben shot you a suspicious look. “I’d rather not hang around him right now.” You admit, eyes downcast as you knew Ben would no doubt be looking at you with pity.

“Y/N, did you guys have a fight?” Ben asks you, backtracking and returning to his seat, but leaning in a little closer so as not to be overheard by anyone. You really did appreciate his concern for you both.

Shaking your head, you ask for another drink, simply requesting the same, before turning in your seat to face Ben who is waiting patiently for you to speak.

“Just an argument, really. But I’m just so furious with him.” You growl, tapping your nails on the bar as you try to keep your temper in check. Yours and Gwilym’s relationship had always been a little volatile, but in the good way. Your friendship had been the same, both of you falling out over stupid things and not speaking for a day, until one of you would cave and text the other, and you’d go grab drink as if nothing ever happened.

“Okay…” Ben began, eyebrows furrowing together. “About what?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, knowing how stupid it must sound. “Over which one of us made us late for tonight.” You look over your shoulder at the scene before you. It was the afterparty for the Oscar’s, Bohemian Rhapsody having won four different awards at the ceremony, so celebrations were in full swing.

You’d been late to arrive at the carpet, and after the ceremony was over you’d all returned to the hotel that you were staying in, having rented out the bar downstairs for the party.

Ben laughed next to you, but you didn’t register it at first, as your eyes met Gwil’s from across the room. You hadn’t spoken since the ceremony, where you had said congratulations to him and the others. After that, you’d remained distant and sullen.

Now he was leant up against a wall, drink in hand as he stood in conversation with Joe and a woman you didn’t recognise. Joe seemed to be trying to hit it off with her, however she seemed an awful lot more interested in Gwilym and what he had to say. Your eyes remained locked with his, until he was asked a question by the woman and Joe nudged his arm. Although he looked away to speak to the girl, giving her his trademark charming smile that he always reserved for you, his eyes kept flicking up past her head to look at you.

Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of him knowing you were staring, you turned back to look at Ben. Although innocent enough, that girl had rubbed you the wrong way and you didn’t like him smiling at her. As idiotic as it sounded.

“Hey Ben?” You ask the blond, your eyes narrowing slightly as you try not to get too het up about what was going on across the room from you.

Ben, mid-drink, looks at you out of the corner of his eyes, raising his eyebrows in question. You place your hand on his leg, just a couple of inches higher than his knee, but it was enough to make him choke a little on his drink.

“Thanks for being a good friend.” You told him sweetly, giving him sincere smile. Ben put his bottle down and put a hand on your shoulder, giving you a wink, something he was renowned for doing. It wasn’t a flirtatious gesture from him, more of his way of telling you that it wasn’t an issue, and that he was always going to be there for you.

“Not a problem Y/N.” He assures you, squeezing your shoulder.

Although the whole exchange was innocent enough if someone were to hear you two talking, but you knew that from across the room it wouldn’t look quite the same. That’s what you were hoping for.

Looking out the corner of your eye, you could see a tall, dark form shifting through the throng of people, and before they even got to you, you knew it was Gwilym.

In less than a few seconds, he was by your side, pushing himself a little bit in between you and Ben, cutting off your view from him. You look up at him through your eyelashes, giving him a little smirk as he glares down at you, his face like thunder.

“Hello Gwil.” You greet him politely, your tone sweet yet sharp, as you pick up your new, full glass of Aperol Spritz, taking a sip from it and running the tip of your tongue across your top lip as you wait for him to respond.

“Are you finished?” Gwil asks you, his voice dangerously low as he towers over you. His deep, cobalt-blue eyes were practically burning a hole into your mind, a flash of jealousy illuminating them. You hum, looking at your nearly-full glass as if it were a tough question, pondering over your answer.

“Not quite.” You tease, flashing him a smile that was all teeth and no humour.

“That’s not what I meant.” He hisses, eyes shifting to the left, aware of Ben sat behind him, looking a little confused and forlorn.

So he had seen you.

“I wasn’t doing anything.” You tell him, the tone in your voice growing sharper by the second. You could feel another row coming on.

Gwil scoffs, his eyes rolling as he raises a singular eyebrow at you, as if to say “really?”. You got off your stool, the legs scraping on the floor as it pushes away from you, and stood in front of him, brazenly looking him in the eye.

“Don’t take that attitude with me.” You snap, one hand balling into a fist as the other grips the bar top. You’re almost shaking with fury as Gwil glares down at you, not even flinching at your sudden act of defiance.

Leaning in, his face draws ever closer to yours, and were it not for both of your vicious scowls, people might mistake you both for getting close and cuddly. Just inches from your face, Gwil’s arm slips past you and you get ready to push him away if he tries to grab your hand or pull you into him.

Instead, you hear the scrape of the barstool behind you and feel a soft bump as it hits the back of your legs, making you startle slightly. Gwil doesn’t break eye contact for a single second as he pulls the stool up.

“Sit.” He commands you, his voice a husky growl that sends a delicious chill down your spine. You do so immediately, scooting your bum onto the seat and waiting to see what he’ll do next. It’s a little unexpected, and not what you had thought might happen.

Gwil straightens up and turns around to his friend. Ben, who had been sat with his drink, was minding his own business and scrolling through his Instagram as the whole fiasco went on beside him. But when Gwil turned around he couldn’t help but notice the obvious waves of rage rolling off of his friend.

“Ben, can you give us a moment? Alone?” Gwil asks his friend calmly, the intimidating glare dissipating instantly as he addresses him. Ben shrugs, thinking none the wiser of it, and gets up from his seat, walking off to go find Joe and Rami.

You swear under your breath, realising that Ben had now sent you to your doom, as Gwil spun back to face you. His expression held no malice or anger, just frustration. You didn’t know whether it was the good or bad kind, however.

Stepping closer to you, Gwil slips his leg between yours as he closes the gap between the two of you. His body shields you from the eyes of the rest of the room, with the cool metal of the bar keeping you pinned against him.

“What the hell are you doing?” Gwilym hisses at you, all the while looking around the room, instead of at you. To anyone else, it might look like you two were having a meaningless conversation as Gwilym simply seemed to be observing the party. Nothing overly suspicious.

“I told you before, I wasn’t doing anything!” You snarl, picking up your glass and taking a big gulp of your drink, before slamming it back down on the surface, much like you had done with the lipstick earlier that day.

Gwilym’s hand suddenly grazes your knee, the pads of his fingers brushing the inside of your leg.

“Liar.” He responds, still refusing to look at you. You froze on the spot, unable to move as his hand rest firmly on your leg, his thumb digging into the soft flesh whilst his fingers lightly stroked across the soft skin. It sent tingles up your leg, straight to your core, and you tried not to let it bother you.

Besides, you were a little occupied by the fact that Gwilym had just called you a liar.

“What did you just call me?!” You demand, the volume and shrillness of your voice getting a little higher. Gwil’s hands slip up your leg, underneath the skirt of your dress, in a flash, gripping the flesh of your upper thigh tight, no doubt leaving marks. But it causes you to clamp your mouth shut as his fingers lay mere centimetres from your panties.

Bastard.

“Hush now.” Gwil murmurs, eyes twinkling as he tries to keep his face impassive, knowing full well what effect this was having on you.

“Fuck off.” You hiss under your breath, but it soon turns into a whimper as his index and middle finger slip further up and press harshly against your clothed clit. You have to resist the initial urge to move your hips and grant yourself some friction against his fingers.

Gwil leans down, so that his mouth is brushing against your ear, his beard scratching your cheek. His hot breath feels so good on your neck, and you can’t help the fact that you’re starting to get rather wet for him.

“Play nice, princess.” He hums, rubbing his fingers in a singular circle against your clit, feeling your body jerk against him in response. You clamp down on your bottom lip hard, another small whimper coming from your mouth.

“We’re in public, you know.” You mumble a weak excuse, when you finally manage to recover from the sudden stimulation. You were so furious at him for everything that had happened today, and yet it only seemed to make his touch, his fingers, and his presence more magnetising.

“I know. The perfect punishment for being such a naughty girl tonight.” Gwil chuckles, the low hum of his voice making your clit throb against the pressure of his fingertips. You couldn’t help but spread your legs a little wider for him. A silent plea for him to touch you more.

“Don’t know what you mean…” You moan gently, his fingers starting to rub slow circles through your panties onto your clit. Your hips begin to twitch involuntarily, succumbing to the magic of his fingers.

“Behave, or else I’ll stop.” He growls, removing his fingers from your clit, the loss of his touch leaving you feeling high and dry. That is, until his hand moves your panties to the side and his fingers begin to slide through your folds, spreading the wetness that has begun to pool in your underwear.

You gasp in delight and horror as you realise that there are people all around you both.

“Gwilym–”

“No.” He snaps, cutting you off.

You moan softly, knowing he won’t listen to you, not when he has you like putty in his fingers.

“Please, baby–” You whine, inching forward in your seat, hoping for him to get the hint. Gwilym sighs happily at his nickname, it offering some form of comfort to try balm over his jealousy. A name he knows only he can get you to say, and only say when you’re desperate for him.

“Much better.” He praises, fingers dipping closer to your entrance, but not quite enough. You roll your hips forward, your leg which is stuck between his brushing against his crotch, his hard on rubbing against your thigh. He’s just as turned on as you are.

This snaps you out of your mewling, submissive state, your half-closed eyes flicking up to look at his face that remains stone cold as he continues to tease your pussy in the middle of the party.

“Baby?” You ask him sweetly, batting your eyelashes at him as he looks down at you, slightly confused as to why you’ve stopped begging and squirming under his touch. You sneakily slip a hand up the inside of his thigh, until you reach his crotch, and rub his hard cock through his trousers.

Gwil almost stumbles at the sudden contact of your hand against his erection, palming him through his tight trousers, and has to bite back a loud moan. You can feel his dick flex and twitch under your palm and you can’t help but smile to yourself.

“You were saying?” You whisper, rubbing your hand along his length, the tips of your fingers pressing down a little to massage his shaft through the material. Gwilym’s fingers sink into your wet entrance without warning and you gasp, your free hand coming up to slap your mouth shut and stifle the moan that was soon to follow after.

His fingers curl inside you as he pumps them slowly, the heel of his palm grinding against your clit.

“Fuck–” You cry, as quietly as possible, through your fingers.

“Don’t you dare tease me without my permission, do you hear me?” Gwil growls, fingers moving slow inside you as he leans in to plant a kiss on your neck, right below your ear. You whine and nod your head in response, unable to open your mouth for fear of a moan coming out.

Gwilym savours the feeling of your walls clenching around his fingers for a little bit longer, before he pulls away, leaving you feeling empty without his long digits inside you, fucking you just right.

He pulls out a tissue and wipes his fingers, internally fighting the urge to lick them clean like he normally would, to be able to enjoy the taste of you. But he knows there’s time yet.

“Get up.” He demands, pulling you to your feet and taking your hand in his. He begins to drag you towards the door that will lead you into the lobby, where the lifts are. You follow after him like a lost sheep, giddy with excitement and arousal. Gwilym stabs the button for the lift, and the two of you wait in silence, the lobby is almost dead, save for you and the receptionist who doesn’t even raise his head at you both.

Gwilym leans down to whisper into your ear. “When you get into that lift, I want you to take your panties off like a good girl.” He informs you, just as the lift dings and the doors open.

It’s pretty late now, so you know that there will be barely anyone else around.

The two of you step into the lift and Gwil pushes the button for your floor, before the doors close softly. He turns to you, leaning his back against the wall of the lift, his arms folded as he waits expectantly, eyes glittering with arousal. For a second you stand there defiantly, until he raises an eyebrow at you, his gaze promising punishment if you don’t comply with his wishes.

You slip your dress skirt up, hooking your thumbs in the waistband of your panties and pulling the down over your ass, letting them drop onto the carpeted floor. Gwil’s eyes remain focused on your face as he extends a hand out, waiting. You pick your panties up off the floor and place them in his outstretched palm, watching as he pockets them without another word.

“Good girl.” He tells you, as the lift dings and the doors slide open to reveal your floor.

The walk to your room is silent, the atmosphere heavy with anticipation and lust. Gwilym unlocks the door to your room, flicking the lights on. Throwing his blazer onto the little armchair, he begins to undo the tie which he had tried so hard to get perfect earlier that evening.

“Get on the bed.” He growls at you, noticing you stood in the middle of the room, watching him begin to undress. “And take everything off.” He adds, eyes flicking down to your dress.

He begins to unbutton his shirt, pulling it out of his trousers from where it had been neatly tucked in, kicking off his shoes in the process. You remain still, watching him slowly remove his clothing, his slightly tanned skin rippling as his muscles flex with every movement, in the soft glow of the lamps. Just as he starts to undo his belt, he looks over at you and realises you’re still not doing as he asked.

With a sigh, he stalks over to you and slips behind you. His fingers brush the nape of your neck as he shifts your hair aside, scooping it over one shoulder, so that he can get to the zip of your dress. You can hear the little whirr as he pulls the zip down, the material of your dress loosening as he slides it off your shoulders, letting it slip off your body.

You look down and see it pooled around your ankles, leaving you naked in front of him. Gwil sucks in a deep breath as his eyes move over your bare form, unable to contain his obvious admiration.

“Fuck, princess.” He groans, his hands grazing your hips. Gwil leans forward and presses a kiss to your shoulder. “You’re so beautiful.” He murmurs against your hot skin.

You lean back into him, the bare skin of his chest warming against your back, relishing the contact between you both.

“I’m so lucky to call you mine.” He sighs, both his hands slipping up to cup your breasts, kneading them in palms, fingers grazing over your nipples. You instinctively arch your back, your ass pressing against his hard cock, earning a low moan from him.

“I’m all yours.” You assure him, tilting your head back to give him more access to your neck, allowing him to plant open-mouthed kisses against the sensitive skin. He takes one of your nipples between his thumb and index finger, rubbing it gently. Your skin erupts with goose bumps and you groan, his hard cock straining against his trousers.

“Mine.” He growls, before going to your neck and slowly sucking a deep purple bruise into the skin. You reach a hand up to run it through his floppy brown hair, having recently got the back and sides cut short, so it feels soft and fluffy.

“Say it again.” You beg, feeling the familiar rush arousal between your legs, knowing you must be soaking wet right now.

He removes his lips from your neck, spinning you around to face him, cupping your face with his hands.

“Mine.” He whispers, his eyes blown with lust and love for you, lips plump and red from how much he’s bitten them.

“Then fuck me like I’m yours.” You tell him firmly, eyes never breaking contact, as you take one of his hands from your face and gently wrap it around your throat, adding a little bit of pressure.

Gwilym needs no more hints, pushing you onto the bed and climbing on top of you in an instant, sliding his belt off and pulling his trousers down so he can rub a hand against his hard cock through his underwear.

“Legs, princess.” He tells you, opening your legs and slipping them over his shoulders, with you helping him without hesitation. Gwil, his head between your thighs, looks up at you and gives you a warm smile, all the dominating swagger he usually has vanishing for a moment, as he looks at you like he’s the luckiest man in the world.

And then it’s gone, as Gwil dips his tongue between your folds, the tip flicking against your clit. You can feel the bristles of his beard scratching against the inside of your thighs and creating more friction against your pussy.

“Fuck, Gwil.” You cry, your back arcing as you slip your hands down to run them through the long strands of hair on the top of his head, tugging them a little. His instinct is to moan as you pull on his hair, and the vibrations against your clit make you buck your hips, grinding your pussy against his tongue.

“So wet, baby girl.” Gwil teases, removing his mouth and using a finger to rub slow circles on your clit, watching you squirm under him. He can feel his cock leaking pre-cum in his boxers, and he so desperately wants to be buried in your soaked pussy.

You seem to want the same thing as you beg for him to fuck you, your legs trembling as he switches from using his finger on your clit to using his thumb, allowing him to tease your entrance.

“Want my fingers in your pretty pussy?” He asks you, dipping them in slightly, but not fully, liking to watch as you gasp at every movement. You nod in response, your soft moans giving him all the encouragement he needs.

He buries two fingers into you with ease, curling them inside you to rub against your walls, before he starts to pump them. The sight of your legs opening more for him, taking his fingers so well, makes Gwilym rock hard. He pushes down his boxers, finally relieving his erection from its confines. It springs out, the pre-cum dripping off the tip as he wraps his spare hand around the shaft, and slowly begins stroking himself to the sight before him.

You open your eyes, wanting to see Gwilym’s face as he fucks you with his fingers, and you almost cum when you see him jerking off over you.

“Such a good girl.” He moans, mouth falling open slightly as his fist pumps his cock quickly, still praising you as he gets you both off.

“Gwil, fuck me.” You beg, knowing that you can’t hold off your orgasm much longer, and wanting to feel him deep inside you. He slows down his rhythm, teasing himself as he strokes just the head of his cock, removing his fingers from your pussy and greedily licking all your juices off them.

He shuffles himself so that his cock is lined up with your entrance, moving his hand from his member to the base of his shaft.

Gwil slowly pushes the tip inside you, pausing as you moan at the teasing sensation, before slowly pushing deeper and deeper inside you, until his cock fills you up entirely. He can’t contain the hungry growl in his throat, as his desires are slowly fulfilled.

“Fuck, that’s good.” He moans, relishing the way your walls clench around him, before he begins to pull back out, and then in once more, building up a pace. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist as he thrusts into you quickly, his arms pinned at either side of your head as he leans over you, the new angle allowing him to fuck you better.

“Baby–” You cry out, one hand gripping the sheets whilst the other holds onto one of Gwil’s wrists. Noticing the way you grip onto his arm, he leans down, using his left forearm to prop himself up, whilst he slips his right hand around your throat, holding you in place. Your hand reaches up to rest over his, not adding any pressure, but just wanting to feel the sensation of his hand around your neck.

“God you’re so fucking hot, and you were so naughty tonight.” He growls next to your ear, panting as he fucks you harder, your skin slapping against each other as he drives his cock into you.

“…Wanted your attention.” You whimper, turning your head towards his, leaning in for a heated kiss. Gwilym runs his tongue along your lips before sticking it down your throat, your lips coming together in a wet kiss.

“Because only I can make you feel this good.” He gasps when you pull apart, looking at you through his long eyelashes, a little bit of spit coating his bottom lip. You gently suck his bottom lip, pulling a breathy moan from him.

“Of course baby.” You assure him, a hand slipping down to your clit to begin rubbing it at a fast pace, matching every one of Gwilym’s thrusts. “Now let me show you how you make me feel.” You tell him.

Gwilym brings himself up onto his haunches, his hands falling down to hold your hips, allowing him to control your movements and watch you play with yourself on his cock. With every clench of your walls around his cock, his thrusts grow a little more desperate, and he prays you’ll cum soon so that he can join you.

Your mouth falls open as the beginning of your orgasm starts to creep up in your stomach, and Gwilym has to bite his lip as he watches you get closer and closer.

“Say my name.” He begs you. “Say my name when you cum, princess.”

You nod at him, knowing he won’t have to wait much longer, as you reach the edge of your climax, going over the edge and falling into bliss.

“I’m–Fuck, Gwil! Oh, fuck baby…” You moan, the waves of euphoria washing over your body with every thrust of Gwil’s cock inside you.

Gwil, knowing you’ve reached your high, doesn’t try to hold off his own orgasm any longer, his thrusts getting sloppier, until he’s finally cumming too, his hot load spurting inside you.

“Jesus! Holy fuck–” He exclaims, hips still rolling against yours as he rides it out, wanting the pleasure to last as long as possible. After a few more shaky thrusts, he carefully pulls out, before bending down and pressing soft kisses up your stomach, past the valley of your breasts, until he’s kissing your chin all the way up to your lips, where he plants quick, hot kisses.

His hair is hanging down over his face, getting in his eyes and tickling his nose, but he doesn’t care, because you’re there in front of him, looking up at him with an incomparable amount of love in your heart, your eyes slightly glazed from exhaustion, as you reach up to stroke his beard.

No matter how mad he may get at you, he knows nothing can ever beat this feeling.

[itsgonnabe-brian-may]

when water pipes burst

// Requested: No

warnings: fluff, swear words

Gwilym Lee x Reader

4k words - whoops my hand slipped

AN: Okay okay I literally haven’t written in sooo long and I randomly started writing this and I actually really like it. It’s not the best but I think the idea is cute lol. Please tell me what you think!! I’d also like to thank @isitstraightvodka for choosing between gwil and joe for me! Gwil I think is the perfect fit for this!

Anyways, enjoy! 

//

A deep happy sigh slipped past your lips as you stared at the empty skeleton of your apartment. All your cheap furniture was packed up and in the process of being shipped across the world, or to the dumpster in all honesty. The pictures and decor hanging on your wall were neatly packed into boxes. The more precious ones were filed away in your suitcases along with articles of clothing that you were determined not to ruin or lose. 

As cliche as last looks are you swore you saw your life in the cramped and overpriced apartment flash before your eyes. 

The champagne bottle cap hitting and knocking out a ceiling lighting fixture during your christening party. Which was just an excuse to get shit-faced with your friends. It took you a year to get it fixed. 

Your first long term relationship starting in passion on the couch... and ending in the same spot. 

Movie marathons with your friends that ended in throwing popcorn and falling asleep halfway through the third movie. 

The coffee table that earned its name due to the ridiculous amount of coffee spilled on it. 

Sitting on the floor cross-legged in front of it as you studied for your final exams before graduation. 

Having sloppy and hilarious sex on it. Whoops. 

The doormat that was barely used with the words "Welcome" written in a neat script was still crisp. 

Getting a roommate when your ass of a landlord raised the rent by $300. She turned out pretty cool. Even though she refused to touch the dishes. Her decorating and wing-woman skills made up for it. 

Though eventually, your lease ran out, you graduated from school, she got a ring for her left hand and you got a new job. 

A new job in England. England. That's where your belongings were being shipped off to. 

"Shit! I have to get to the airport" you thought as the memories in your mind dissolved. 

One final final look around the place you closed the door and locked it. Taking the key off the key ring was painstaking but eventually, you got it off and placed it on the counter in the landlord's office.

Walking down the stairs, lugging your suitcase behind you. You heaved it into the trunk of your Uber and sat in the front seat. 

The drive to the airport was somber, at least at first. The downtown traffic caused conversation to blossom between you and the driver. It was a welcome distraction.

The distraction lasted as you sat next to a lovely older woman who was returning home from visiting her children. 

9 hours later you stood at the front door of your new home for the next 2 years, at least on paper. 

You fought the urge to knock. 

"This is actually my home" you laughed out loud and turned the key. 

This apartment, or rather "flat" now that you were in the UK, was nothing like your previous one. 

The walls were white and filled with windows that looked out onto a scenic view of the town's skyline of tree's and other complexes. You had a balcony that shared a wall with your neighbors to the left. 

The interior was a unique architecture, the kitchen was tiny but the living room was big and open with enough space for entertaining. 

Abandoning your suitcase at the entrance you went to explore. Sure you'd seen this apartment already online. But not everything is exactly what it seems on the internet. 

The master, and only, bedroom was gorgeous. The bathroom attached was small but it was only you, so you didn't mind. A spare room was a spare room and there was plenty of storage which was unusual for a single person apartment.

That night you ordered take out and created shopping lists and plans to execute before you had to start work in a week or so. You blew up an air mattress and tried to sleep in your new room. Unsurprisingly, you tossed and turned until you ended up staring at the ceiling. The small crack made you laugh. The crack seemed to be the only flaw that the apartment had. 

Sleep overtook you, the silence of your neighbors surely helped. 

If only you knew the storm that was your neighbor. Gwilym Lee. 

The tall and deadly handsome man was gentlemanly and sophisticated. His flat was farm from the usual bachelor pad of his friends. The man had linen curtains for Christ sake. Yet, he was a ball of uncontrollable energy when he hosted people at his house, which was as often and led late into the night. 

This time the lack of noise was mostly due to the fact that he was currently not home. He was currently off in Brighton shooting for Midsomer Murders. Though he was due to return within the next couple of days. 

His days coincidentally mirrored yours. 

Waking up at around seven in the morning, going for a cup of tea, or coffee in your case. Then showering and headed out to run errands, or in his case shoot a scene. Returning home, cleaning up, ordering or going out for food and laying in bed planning tomorrow. 

After a few days, his current shoot ended and he was headed home. First stopping at the grocer to pick up food for a dinner party. You were at the same grocer and gave the tall man a polite smile as you passed each other in the aisle.

His gaze lingered on you. For multiple reasons. One reason being he had never seen you before, and it was a small town with only one market, which mostly the people in his apartment complex shopped at. The other being you were quite attractive, even in your "I'm just going to the grocery store outfit". 

Your gaze lingered too. Again for multiple reasons. He was attractive, put together and it looked like he was going to throw one hell of a party. In a weird way, it made you hopeful for your future in England. 

A party would have to wait, your apartment was still in shambles. 

All of your furniture arrived in mostly one piece. The boxes full of pictures and kitchen utensils lay stacked and partially open. That was your date tonight. Decorating.

Grabbing a bottle of rosé on the way to the register was a spur of the moment decision, but a good one. 

Once you made your short journey home you put away the groceries and opened the bottle. Taking a small sip from the bottle before pulling out a glass and pouring yourself a generous portion. Finally, you pulled out your phone and connected it to your speaker. Putting your music on shuffle you began filing through all of the boxes.

Gwil arrived home and heard muffled music through his walls. 

'Sounds like someone finally moved in,' He thought to himself. 

Instead of rifling through boxes he looked through recipes and began cooking. With music of course.

When you heard the same artist but a different song come from the other side of the wall you laughed. Your new neighbor had good taste in music, you'd have to tell them sometime.

The sun slowly dipped under the horizon and moonlight drifted into your home. The hum of music was at a lower volume creating a peaceful atmosphere. Talking and laughing came from the other side of the wall. It didn't bother you. In turn, it made you feel more at home. Lulls in conversation created an ambiance that you couldn't explain. Your music filled those quiet moments. Even Gwil noticed it. 

He had been too preoccupied with his friends to notice that the music had continued into the night. Lucy was actually the one to notice first. The last time her, Rami, Joe and Ben had been over there was no music, no sound from the apartment on the right. Of course, her keen ear was always open to hear a song she loved. She had asked Gwil what song was playing. 

"Um, I'm not playing any music. It must be the neighbor," He laughed his face contorting with slight confusion. 

"Oh, haha, well they've got great taste," Lucy laughed before refilling her own glass of rosé and joining the others on the sofa. 

At around 11 Gwil hugged and thanked his guests goodbye. Sighing happily he began cleaning up. However, it didn't last long when a startled scream replaced the quiet. 

You had finally finished the living room when you went into your room and flopped onto your bed, exhausted. 

To your surprise your duvet was wet. You stood back up and looked up at the crack in your ceiling. With your luck the second you looked up the water pipe burst, spraying cold water all over you. You couldn't stop the scream that came from your now wet lips.  

"Holy fuck!" You yelped. 

A loud banging came from your front door. It was Gwil, who had rushed over as soon as he heard your scream. 

You swung the door open and looked at the man from the grocery store. He was dressed to the nines in a light blue polo shirt tucked into a pair of brown slacks. Of course, you looked a mess. You were soaking, your hair clung to your face, your mascara had definitely smeared under your eyes. 

"Oh my, are you alright?" He asked, not able to suppress the shock on his face. It certainly wasn't what he was expecting. 

"Um, yea, just a bit wet," you laughed, trying to move the hair from your face. 

"Well, I'm glad you're alright, but what happened?" He asked stepping past your door frame after you. 

"I guess a water pipe broke, I'm not entirely sure,"

What you didn't expect was for him to get under the stream of water himself and try and sort out the problem. With no avail, but it was a kind gesture. You quickly scrambled and found a plastic moving bin and put it under the stream to attempt to collect some of the water. 

"Let me call the landlord to shut off the water," Gwil spoke up, brushing his own wet hair back. 

"Oh god, I'm sorry I dragged you into this," You apologized profusely. 

"Hush, it's no big deal," He chuckled placing his phone to his ear. 

During the brief phone call, you grabbed your own phone, a bag and threw some dry clothes into it. You started looking for a hotel to stay at until the problem was fixed. 

"What are you doing, love?"  Gwil asked leaning over your shoulder. Your heart soared at the nickname, god he was cute. 

"Looking for a hotel, because I don't think I want to sleep in my flooded apartment," You laughed not looking up. 

"Nonsense, stay with me while it gets fixed," He responded with sincerity. 

"I can't intrude like that, It's alright, It'll only be a few days," You smiled up at him. 

"I insist, at least for tonight, It's nearly midnight," He challenged raising an eyebrow. 

"Fine, only for tonight," You said matching his gaze. 

"And because you're cute," You mumbled under your breath afterward following him out. You didn't think he heard you but he did and smiled opening his door to his flat. 

"This is awkward but I seem to have rudely never asked you for your name... I'm Gwilym, but call me Gwil." 

"Oh! It's nice to meet you formally Gwil, I'm Y/N". 

"Well, Y/N, I'm sorry it's such a mess...". 

"You've seen my apartment right?" You laughed.

"I guess your right," He laughed, his eyes crinkling at the edges. 

"If you want to hop in the shower or change, the bathroom is down the hall on the right. Just shout if you need anything," 

"Thanks," You smiled and retreated to the bathroom. You couldn't help but laugh when you were greeted by your mess of a reflection. Pulling off your wet clothes you wrung them out in the sink and hung them on the shower rod to dry. Grabbing a towel you dried yourself off and dried your hair to the point that it was a bit frizzy but it wasn't sticking to you anymore. You were slightly upset that you didn't bring anything cuter to wear. After putting on a pair of legging and a tank top you walked out. Gwil had also changed. He was currently wearing dark grey joggers and a long sleeve. You shivered slightly, not thinking to bring a sweater, even though you normally would've worn one at home. 

"Here," Gwil smiled handing you a hoodie. 

"That obvious huh?" You laughed pulling the warm fabric over your head, slowing down slightly to enjoy the faint smell of his cologne. 

His breath hitched slightly when your smile popped out from the hoodie. It had been a while since he'd seen a girl in his clothes, and he couldn't imagine anyone it would look better on. 

"Thanks, Gwil," You smiled. 

"It's nothing, love," He smiled back walking over to the couch with a pillow and blankets.

You could tell that he was going to try and sleep on the couch, that was arguably too small for him to sleep on so you took the chance and sat down before he could. 

"Y/N, what are you doing?" 

"Taking the couch," You smiled innocently.

"Take the bed, I insist," He challenged. 

"Nope, If you're so adamant about sleeping on the couch your going to have to share it with me," You shot back, blushing slightly at the unintended implications. 

"Oh, I see," Gwil laughed amused. 

"Thanks again," You yawned looking briefly at your phone which read 12:06. 

"It's no problem, love, goodnight," He smiled and turned to go to his room. 

"Goodnight Gwil," You smiled and leaned back until you were laying down. 

You stared up at the ceiling, there was no crack. It made you laugh before shifting and falling into a peaceful sleep. 

Of course moving meant a new time zone which you weren't totally used to so you woke up quite late. As soon as you woke up you sat up rubbing your eyes and checked the time. Your eyes widened and looked outside, it was raining. Great. What really was great was the fact that Gwil hadn't woken up yet. He was exhausted from filming all week and last nights wild activities. 

Gently you padded out of his complex into yours. You changed, brushed your teeth, and flicked on some mascara. Before leaving you made a cup of coffee and grabbed some newly bought ingredients to make a simple breakfast as a thank you. 

When you returned you could hear the water running. Smiling you began cooking. You had no idea what Gwil liked, whether he drank coffee or tea, liked blueberries or how he liked his eggs cooked. So you created an assortment of foods. Cut up fruit and toast with options of butter, cheese, avocado or eggs. All while humming quietly to yourself. 

Gwil stepped out of the shower and noticed two things. The humming and the smell of whole grain toast, which always smells better when your not the one cooking. Intrigued, he pulled on a pair of dark grey joggers and a maroon Tshirt and walked into the kitchen. It took everything in him to not wrap his arms around your waist from behind. 

"What's all this?" He asked, his voice still laced with sleep. 

"Just a thank you gesture," You smiled turning around to face him. 

"I already told you it wasn't a big deal," He sighed but couldn't get mad at you, especially since he was hungry. 

"Tea?" He asked walking around you to a cupboard.

"No thanks, I've already got some coffee."

His nose scrunched up, "Ugh, I don't know how you drink that stuff." 

"Well, I don't know how you can drink tea, its basically slightly flavored hot water,"  You laughed raising an eyebrow. 

He playfully scoffed. "You'll learn." 

"I'm not too sure about that," You challenged back before falling into a casual conversation. 

The next couple of mornings were spent the same way. Waking up on the couch with stiff shoulders, making breakfast, trying to get the other to drink your preferred caffeinated drink and falling into a conversation that sometimes led to sitting on the couch all day. You talked about your previous life and your new job. He talked about his acting and friends. Sometimes you would turn on the radio or a playlist and work side by side in comfortable silence. Most days ended with a glass of wine on the couch watching a classic British TV series or a movie. Though Gwil would not show you Midsomer Murders despite your begging. 

Each night you drifted closer and closer. Your knees touching, Gwil's arm around the back of the couch. Hands grazing when doing dishes or lingering touches when moving past one another. Both of you wished for more contact but didn't want to impose or assume the other felt the same thing. However, both of you agreed that you felt like you had known each other for ages and enjoyed spending time together. 

You got the call from your landlord that the pipe would be finally done tomorrow morning at 10. Meaning one more night with Gwil. In the beginning, you were anticipating and ready to get your flat back, but now you just wanted to stay. It was nice with a roommate. Especially with Gwil as your roommate. On the other hand, you definitely were ready to sleep in a bed again. The plan had been to alternate and every night Gwil tried to get you to sleep in his bed. Of course, you were stubborn and didn't. Sure his couch was nice but you awoke with stiff shoulders. You could handle one more day on the couch. 

However, after your first day at your new job left you exhausted. Letting yourself into the apartment with Gwil's spare key you sighed. Happy to be home.

As you kicked off your shoes and put your bag down you noticed that it smelled good. Really good. 

"Gwil, honey, are you cooking?" You asked with a wide smile, your question answered once you walked into the kitchen where Gwil was wearing an apron and mixing something on the stove. Two glasses of wine set out on the island where it had been set nicely with placemats and fancy napkin foldings. 

"Maybe," He said drawing the word out with a toothy grin. 

"God, you're the best." 

"Does that mean you'll try some tea?"  "NO" You laughed. 

You couldn't wipe the grin off of your face as you went and changed. 

Dinner was amazing and you found yourself thanking him and staring at him blissfully. Gwil noticed but didn't notice his own staring. 

After doing the dishes you ended up going to the usual movie on the couch. Halfway through the movie you still couldn't get comfortable. You were stiff and trying not to disturb the movie but Gwil, being the observant man he could tell something was off. 

"Are you alright?" He asked shifting his gaze, not having to do too much to look at you as you were already closed. 

"Yea, I'm just a little stiff and tired," You said with a reassuring smile. The last thing you wanted to do was make it a big deal out of it. 

"Anything I can do?" He asked. 

"No, but do you mind if we finish the movie another time?" 

"Not at all, love, to bed you go," He said smiling, not moving.

"Well, you kind of in my bed..." You laughed looking at him. 

"Oh no! I guess you'll just have to use mine," He teased back, not wanting you to sleep on the couch again. 

"Gwil, come on," You said raising your eyebrows and tilting your head. 

"Nope, I'll carry you if I have to," "Yeah right," You laughed. 

You were proved wrong because the next second a strong pair of arms picked you up. 

"Gwil!!" You squealed as you carried you to his bedroom. You protested as much as you could through laughter. As soon as you were put down you jumped up and tried to run away. His lean arms caught you around your waist and pulled your laughing self back to the bed. Gwil was laughing too, as he picked you up by your waist and plopped you down on the bed. 

"Stay." He laughed down at you. 

"Am I your dog now or what?" You teased propping yourself up onto your elbows. 

At the movement, Gwil put his hands on your shoulders. 

"If you don't I'm going to pin you down until you fall asleep," He said, trying to be serious but failing to keep laughter contained. 

"Oh really?" 

"Don't believe me?"

"Okay fine I do," You yawned 

Reluctantly he removed his hands and stood back up. However, it was your turn to stop him. You shot your hand out and grabbed his wrist gently. 

"Stay?" You blurted out. 

"I mean, I can't make you sleep on the couch, you can barely sit on it. This bed is big enough for the two if us.." You rambled trying to hide heat on your cheeks. 

"Alright," He yawned with a smile. His heart was beating out of his chest as he clambered into his bed after you. 

"Goodnight Gwil," You smiled turning your back to him, offering some space. 

"Goodnight Caridad," He mumbled coping your positioning. 

The new nickname made you fall into slumber with a smile on your face. The smile stayed as you shifted into Gwil's arms during your sleep. Your heads stayed on separate pillows but his arms snaked their way around your waist while your hand rested on his chest. 

When you woke, your first thought was 'This is nice, this is the best I've slept in a long time'. However, your thought was replaced by panic. 'Shit, this is definitely stepping over some boundary'. Instead of untangling yourself without waking up Gwil, you decided to drift back into a blissful sleep. Later, Gwil woke up just as surprised and happy. Though he had plans to make you breakfast this time, so he carefully and reluctantly unraveled himself from your limbs. 

Not much longer than 15 minutes after Gwil left you woke back up. You decided to not say anything as you walked into the kitchen seeing Gwil donning an apron again. 

"What's all this?" You asked, your voice still laced with sleep. 

"Just a 'you're welcome' gesture," He smiled turning around to face you, much like your first morning at his apartment. 

"Seriously, you're too good to me," You smiled happily up at him. 

"Does this mean you'll try some tea this morning?"

You laughed and looked like you were considering his offer. "Not in a million years," 

"Whatever," He laughed and gave you a plate with pancakes. 

Breakfast went by too quickly, of course, the intriguing conversation didn't help it go by any slower. Unfortunately, you had a meeting with the landlord soon and wanted to shower and change. Gwil shot down your offer to do the dishes and told you that'd he do them later. He picked up your bag and you both slowly made your down the hall to your room. Stopping in front of it. 

"Thank you for everything," You smiled up at him, gently taking you bag and placing it inside. 

"Anytime, It's not a big deal," He smiled leaning against your door frame. 

Something came over him at the prospect of you going back to your lives before meeting each other. He didn't want to lose what you had. In his mind, the only way to make sure was to kiss you. So he did. 

At first, you were shocked. Gwil was kissing you. Fortunately, your hands worked their way up to cup his chin as you reciprocated the kiss. Pulling away he was smiling like an idiot. So were you. 

"See you around?" He grinned and turned to make the 4-meter journey back to his own flat. 

"See you around, neighbor," You laughed happily. 

You shut the door to your flat and leaned against it, smiling like a damn fool. You were glad you had moved into your apartment. Burst water pipes and all. 

[borhap-au]

Girlfriend on a period. Gwilym Lee fanfic.

You were sitting in your room all by yourself, not wanting to see anyone. You were actually hiding under the quilt, with your phone, craving snacks. It was one of those days. And for exactly that reason you couldn’t stand anyone’s presence. Your family knew not to bother you. They knew how annoyed you were on your period. But there was one person ”new” enough not to know it. Gwilym.

He was your boyfriend for just a few weeks, and he generally managed not to see you on those days, you were both busy, so you were just texting. And over a text you always managed to be nice and funny as always. But you couldn’t control your face expressions and the tone of your voice in anyone’s presence. So when he came to your house without a warning, your mother advised him to come back home.

”What is it, ma'am? Is she mad at me?” he asked her concerned.

”No, no, don’t worry about it, Gwilym. She’s just... Having those days. She doesn’t usually like seeing anyone then. Not even her friends come here when she’s moody” he chuckled quietly.

”Don’t worry, ma'am. Maybe she won’t bite me” he joked and your mom opened the door to let him in.

”You’re coming in here at your own risk” she joked, but he shook his head.

“Not yet, ma'am. I wasn’t prepared. I’ll be back soon” he said and walked away while your mother looked at him surprised, but then closed the door and shrugged it off.

Meanwhile your mom went to your room to warn you in a way that you’re going to have visitors. She knocked on your door and came in.

“Yeah?” you muttered from under the quilt.

“Gwilym came by” you immediately panicked. You weren’t looking right for a new boyfriend to look at you. “He said he’s going to come back soon.”

You stuck your head out of your hiding and looked around. He really wasn’t here. You sighed with relief and put the quilt away. You were still in your pajamas.

“Did he say when he’s going to be back?” you asked your mom, looking through your clothes.

“No, he didn’t. But I would suspect a few minutes, twenty tops” you nodded and she put a few of your things into the drawers, to help you clean the room for a visitor, while you went to the bathroom to dress yourself in some jeans and a hoodie. It was not a day to look fancy. You didn’t wash your hair, so you made a ponytail and applied some foundation on your face. You didn’t even have the strength to do anything else.

When you came back to your room, you tidied your room fast and then waited. Two or three minutes later, Gwilym was at your door with flowers and a bag from a store.

“Hey” he smiles and kisses your lips. You kissed him back and smiled lightly. Even in your current condition, it was still nice to see your boyfriend. His sweet face made you forgot about the awful pain for some time.

“Hope you don’t mind, but I found out about your current state” you rolled your eyes and smiled a bit.

“Yeah, my mom told me she let you know. I apologize in advance if I will be moody or snarky” he smiled widely at your comment, as if it was very funny to him. You were sure he didn’t laugh only because he thought you would be mad at him for it.

“It’s alright. I got you a few things” he said and reached for the bag. You raised your brow.

“’Things’? What do you mean ‘things’? You weren’t supposed to buy me anything. And the flowers would really be enough” you protested. You liked little gifts, but also felt bad when he spent any money on you.

“Don’t worry about it. Here” smiled and officially gave you the flowers. You took them and stood up to put them in a vase.

“Those are really beautiful. I love them. Thank you” you smiled to him. “I’ll be right back” and you went to the bathroom to get some water for the plants and short after you came back. Gwilym was smiling at you and tapped the place on the bed next to him.

“Come back here. This isn’t the end yet” you sighed and put the vase away. Then you went to sit next to him and looked at him biting your lip. “Make a basket of your hands” you did that. “Well, I wasn’t really sure what you need, so here you are” he put tampons and a few different kinds of pads in your hands. You chuckled.

“Thank you. That’s really thoughtful of you. I appreciate that” you put those gifts on your bedside table. “I’m sure they’ll be useful.”

You wouldn’t say it out loud, but you were very happy to have a boyfriend who isn’t scared to buy tampons or pads. Some men avoid that section in a shop as if they could get period there themselves. You were glad Gwil was beyond that.

“Good then, I’m glad. And here” he gave you chocolate. You rolled your eyes and smiled.

“You will be eating it as well” you warned him.

“Alright. And those” he gave you some painkillers.

“Oh, this is a wonderful gift. I needed them so much today and they were none at home. Thank you. Really” you hugged him tightly and he hugged you back, petting your head.

“I’m glad I could help somehow. I know this is pretty basic, I’m not too creative with the choice, but my uncle always used to say that if you buy those things to a woman on her period, that would make her happy. And I wanted to make you happy. I really hope it worked” you smiled widely and kissed him. He obviously kissed you back.

“Yes, it worked. It’s great, thank you, honey” you pet his cheek. Later on you started talking about everything and anything and it actually made you forget about the pain for a while. And as soon as you felt stronger pain, you took the painkillers he brought you.

He was sitting with his back against the headpost of your bed, while you were sitting between his legs, leaning on him. He massaged your abdomen to help you get a relief from the pain. He also planted little kisses on you cheek, neck and shoulder. As soon as the pain stopped, he moved his hands to pet the side of your body, your hand, your head. He was caressing you gently, making sure you felt good, but not crossing any lines that would make you feel uncomfortable during this time. Later on, he suggested watching a movie. You chose Disney. During your period, you only watched Disney. Or Hanna-Barbera.

“But I’m warning you now. I’m definitely going to cry” he smiled a bit hiding his lips in your hair.

“Then I’ll hug you tightly to make sure you’re alright again” and that was the exact moment you thought that maybe having a visitor during period isn’t that bad. Especially since your boyfriend was goals.

“You know what I’m thankful for? That you don’t make fun of me, like a lot of boys do when their girlfriends are on their period” you smiled a bit to him.

“Honey, I’m an adult. And I do agree, men should me more understanding towards girls during those days. I don’t know how much pain you feel, but honestly, having to feel that for three, five days? Having to check your trousers every now and then? Being mad or sad without other reason than hormones freaking out? And all of that to one day make an entire human being from a scratch. Darling, women are the real superheros to me. You are my personal Capitan Marvel” you were blushing so hard you needed to hug him and hide your face from him. 

“You are amazing. Thank you.”

“I didn’t do anything. You are the hero here” he smiled and kissed your head.

[likesomekindofcheese]

Hey, I love you're writing! Could you maybe write a Gwil hc with a Sagittarius reader? Thanks💕

Awww, thanks so much @coincidence-ithinknots-blog! Thank you for your patience in this! Here you go! I hope you enjoy it!

Likely you both were friends first. You loved Gwil’s intelligence and charisma and he loved your optimism and energetic side. But soon enough you both were like “...so...do we want to try dating?...sure, why not?”

Your First dates were adorable. Both of you excitedly share your passions and future hopes! “It’s been a while since I have done Shakespeare, Y/N...but I really would love to do the Winter’s Tale! It’s underrated!”

“Please tell me you’ll play the bear!” you tease, taking a sip of your drink.

He shrugged, starting a small laugh, “if I get to enact the world's most famous stage direction, I’ll do it! I’m big and hairy enough, I could!”

Soon enough you both would hit the ground running in your relationship. Kissing and hugging (and more???!) came (heh) naturally.

You both enjoy playing and watching Sports. Seeing Gwil either stand up and yell or lean forward, hands to mouth nervously at the last five minutes of a game is a sight to see.

Though you both also enjoy philosophy. Sometimes out of nowhere, just watching tv together, let’s say, a deep question will pop into your head such as “why is beauty associated with morality?” and you both will chat about it, forgetting the show altogether.

Laughter is a part of every day with both of your high spirits. Sometimes, you will see or say something funny and you both will hold it in best you can until the dam breaks and you both have tears in your eyes from the laughter.

Debates widen both of your views! When you meet a difference of opinion, it never results in a fight, just an exploration of the other.

You both are adventurers. They can sometimes be journeys of the mind as well as actual travels! But for Gwilym, with you by his side, anywhere can be an experience or a home.

Taglist: @queenlover05

[brianprobablywill]

That dad!gwil concept omg dad gwil KILLS ME! Him spending the day golfing and then coming home and letting his little daughter tell him all about her day with mummy.

oooh i’m glad you liked that concept!! i am so here for family guy gwil, it’s what we need.

at the end of the day, i’m sure aidan ended up learning a little bit from gwil, and just seeing his dad so excited about golfing made him want to go again. 

gwil was practically vibrating with happiness because he got to spend the day with his son. i imagine he blasted his son’s favorite songs on the way back home and even tried listening carefully so he’d remember them for next time. 

you and daisy have a lovely day at the park. you take your dog (whom daisy insisted be named butterball) with you, and the way he runs around leaves daisy giggling the entire time.

gwil and aidan are home before you and daisy, both sitting on the floor. gwil is peering into a piece of paper that aidan is writing something on, his glasses perched delicately on his nose. the moment he hears the door open, he shoots up, rushing over with arms held out. “my favorite girls are home!!”

daisy is quick to leap into gwil’s arms, her bubbly laugh loud in the room. “hi, papa!” gwil gives daisy an audible kiss on the forehead, putting her down despite her whine. 

“hello, butter,” gwil crouches to greet your golden retriever, who is just as excited to see your husband. gwil gets up, “and you,” he winks, finally kissing you chastely. 

both your kids pretend to retch, causing you to shoot a look to both of them before making your way over to the couch. “what were you up to, aidan?” 

“i was showing dad this math trick anna taught me in school,” he mumbles, getting up to sit next to you, quickly joined by gwil and daisy. 

“papa,” daisy calls, “a butterfly sat on my sandwich today,” she plays with gwil’s fingers.

gwil gasps, “what color was the butterfly?”

“it was blue and yellow. it was so pretty!” 

“not as pretty as you,” gwil lovingly tugs on daisy’s pigtails, leaning towards her with a fond smile on his face.

“and mama,” aidan pipes up, ducking when you put your arm around him. 

you can’t help but smile wide. so wide that your face hurts. because this is all you’ve ever wanted. a beautiful family with the person who makes you the happiest.

and this family is more than you could ask for. the most beautiful. 

finishing up soft blurbs!!

[writingfortoomanyfandoms]

Single dad Gwil where his child is doing everything to set him up with with his/her favorite teacher.

Sure thing love

---------------------------------------------

“Miss Y/L/N likes Game of Thrones too, don’t you?” Lily grinned, swinging her legs as she looked between her teacher and her father, sat on opposite sides of the table from each other.

“And how do you know that?” Y/N laughed, giving her student an affectionate smile. She raised her eyes to look at Lily’s father. “I promise you, I don’t talk about Game of Thrones to your daughter, Mr Lee,” she added.

“That’s good to know,” Gwilym laughed, smoothing his hand down Lily’s hair.

“I heard you talking about it to Miss Julien,” Lily shrugged, innocent smile still in place. “When you were on playground duty,” she supplied.

“Well... that’s not really what your father’s here to talk about anyway, Lil,” Y/N pointed out, making shy, nervous eye contact with Gwilym briefly before looking back down at the papers on the desk in front of her.

“How is she doing, despite the... eavesdropping and Game Of Thrones talk?” Gwilym asked, giving her a warm smile that made her heart flutter.

She hated that she found her student’s father so attractive.

“She’s doing absolutely fine - she’s one of the more... confident students in the class and she’s really taken a liking to the new kid in our class, George,” Y/N informed him, flipping through her notes. 

“George is so much fun!” Lily added, eyes wide and happy.

“Well that’s good,” Gwilym said.

“And her timestable are coming along nicely,”

“I even know my sevens!” Lily told her father proudly and Gwilym laughed, petting her hair again. “You know, Miss Y/L/N also likes to read - she was talking about that book you like,” she added, looking slyly between them again.

“I see what you’re doing here, Lil,” Gwilym sighed and looked up at Y/N. “I told her last parents evening that I liked you and she has yet to let it go,” he admitted. His gaze dropped back down to Lily. “If I ask her out for a coffee will you let us finish talking about you.” Lily mimed zipping her mouth closed, causing both adults to laugh as Gwilym looked up at her, grin in place. “So... how about it?”

Finishing blurbs from my 2K Celebration!!