#gwilym lee bookstore

[readingoals]

Queenathon II - Bingo

This is one of the two ways to join in the Queenathon readathon! Each of the prompts on this bingo board were inspired by Queen - either the band, their achievements, or their songs. Except for the yellow diagonals which are activities so that you can still make progress on the board even if you aren’t reading! Below the cut I’ll go through each prompt, row by row, and give a more thorough explanation of them. Songs they were inspired by are in brackets beside the prompts.

And remember - books CAN count for multiple prompts! So you may be able to get a bingo with just one or two books!

1. 5 Star Prediction (The Prophet’s Song)

Read a book you predict you’ll enjoy enough to give 5 stars!

2. Friend Rec (You’re My Best Friend/Friends Will Be Friends/Dear Friends) Read a book a friend has recommended or picked out for you.

3. Adapted into a movie or show featuring one of the BoRhap cast

Quite possibly the hardest prompt in this readathon. Read a book that was adapted into a movie which features an actor who was also in Bohemian Rhapsody, the Freddie Mercury Biopic.

Suggestions: Rami Malek: Breaking Dawn - Stephanie Meyer, a James Bond novel - Ian Flemming,  Henri Charrière‘s autobiography Papillon, The Story of Doctor Dolittle - Hugh Lofting, The Night At The Museum - Milan Trenc

Ben Hardy: X Men comics, The Woman In White - Wilkie Collins, The Girl Before - J.P. Delaney, The Statistical Probability of Love At First Sight - Jennifer E. Smith, a Mary Shelley biography

Gwilym Lee: Henry V - William Shakespeare, any of the Chief Inspector Barnaby series - Caroline Graham, a Catherine The Great biography

Joe Mazzello: Jurassic Park - Michael Crichton, With the Old Breed: At Peleliu and Okinawa - Eugene Sledge, Helmet for My Pillow - Robert Leckie, Enslaved By Ducks - Bob Tarte, G.I. Joe Comics, Fire In The Hole - Elmore Leonard

Lucy Boynton - Sense And Sensibility - Jane Austen, Murder on the Orient Express - Agatha Christie, Why Didn’t They Ask Evans - Agatha Christie, The IPCRESS File - Len Deighton, a Marianne Faithfull biography, a biography about Joseph Bologne the Chevalier de Saint-Georges

Or try some of the support cast like Allen Leech, Tom Hollander, Aiden Gillen, etc.

4. Flowers on the Cover (Lily of the Valley)

A Lily of the Valley is a type of flower so pick a book with some sort of flower in the cover art.

5. Listen to some Queen songs

The first of the activity prompts and a fairly easy one to do I think. You can listen to a full album or just get a music video or two up on youtube.

6. Bestseller

Queen holds the record for the best selling album in the UK with their 1981 compilation album Greatest Hits and are one of the world’s best selling musical artists. Read a book which is considered a best seller. This could be a book that appears on anything from an official list of best selling works to a list that your local bookstore creates about popular books of the month, whatever works for you.

7. About A Musician or Band

Pretty self-explanatory. Queen is a band, so read a book that somehow includes a band or musician.

8. Featuring a Pet/Animal (Delilah)

Freddie Mercury wrote this song about one of his cats. Read a book with some sort of animal companion or pet.

9. Cosy Reading Night

The second activity prompt. Have a cosy reading night (or day!), whatever that means to you. Maybe it’s just being curled up in comfy PJs, maybe it’s a nice hot bath and a few candles while you read.

10. Seasonal Read (A Winter’s Tale)

Read a book that fits the vibes of the season you’re in. For southern hemisphere folks like me it’ll be spring, and for northern hemisphere folks it’s autumn.

11. LGBT+ Main Character

Freddie Mercury was gay so in honour of that, read a book with a queer character.

12. Multiple Authors (Under Pressure)

Under Pressure was written with and featured David Bowie. Read a book with multiple authors. It could be an anthology or a collection of essays or just a book that was co-written by two people. You could even count a book translated by someone other than the author if you wanted.

13. HOT SPACE LETS GO!

Free Space!

14. Parent Rec (Father To Son)

Read a book that was recommended or picked out for you by a parent, guardian or parental figure of some sort (heck even just someone older than you lmao).

15. Written by a Freddie, Brian, John or Roger

The four members of Queen are Freddie Mercury, Brian May, John Deacon, and Roger Taylor, so read a book by someone who shares any of their names.

16. Been Putting Off (The Miracle)

Everyone has at least one book they picked up fully intending to read and then never got around to and now you just keep not reading it. Maybe it’s large and intimidating, maybe it’s a genre you used to be much more into, maybe you’re just worried you won’t enjoy it as much as you thought you would. Whatever the case, this is your chance to finally, miraculously, get around to it.

17. Complete A Personal Goal

The third activity prompt. Check this off when you’ve completed some sort of goal you set yourself. It could be a goal related to the readathon like getting a bingo or finishing a particular book or reading a certain number of pages. Or, it could be something else entirely - going to the gym or completing a household chore that needs to be done or getting your sketchbook set up for Inktober.

18. Features Fairies, Ogres, Dragons and/or Queens (My Fairy King/Ogre Battle/Dragon Attack/Killer Queen/etc)

Queen have a lot of songs with fantasy creatures or elements. Read a book that features some sort of mythical creature or royalty (they have songs about kings and princes too so they absolutely count).

19. Favourite Genre (Rock It (Prime Jive))

Do you find yourself mostly drawn to romance books? Or maybe scifi is more your thing? Whatever genre you enjoy most (your prime jive...), this is an excuse to pick up another one!

20. Published or Set in 1970s

Queen first formed as a band in 1970 and released their first album in 1973. So read a book that was publish or is set during the 70s.

21. Guilt-Free Activity

The last of our activity prompts. If you really want to go see a movie but feel bad about taking hours off of reading, you can now do it guilt free! Or, conversely, if you’ve got some chores you should be doing but put them off to read a little longer, that also counts. Whatever sort of activity you feel guilty about doing or not doing, this is a free pass.

22. Black and White Cover (White Queen/March of the Black Queen)

The album Queen II featured a bit of a black/white theme which carried into live performances where Freddie and Brian would paint their nails to match their queens. Read a book with black and white on the cover.

23. Digital (Machines (Back To Humans))

Read an ebook or listen to an audiobook. You could read the whole book digitally or you could switch between an ebook and a physical copy, or follow the physical book as you listen to an audiobook. As long as you read at least some of a book in a digital format, it counts.

24. Set In England

Queen is an English band, so read a book set in England.

25. Translation (Teo Torriatte (Let Us Cling Together)/Las Palabras De Amor (The Words of Love))

Both of these songs feature lyrics sung in other languages. So read a book that was originally written in another language!

[infinitegalahad]

Borhap Boys As Sugar Daddies

(reposted bc it was disappearing from the tags😭)

hey guys!! I wanna apolgoize for the disappearance, school is ✨madness✨ luv. so I've decided to try something new. But I promise I'm working on requests (and a bunch of new ideas). I love all of the borhap boys (bc they are babies🥺) so this might become a little series of head canons! no major warnings, just lots of fluff and some suggestive material. also reader is gender neutral (boy, girl, whatever you what it my dudes!) why not mix my fav trope and boys all in...one fic😳😳 anyways hope you guys enjoy!! I would love some feedback for future reference

Masterlist (requests are welcomed!)

Rami Malek-

Number one that gif of him...need I say more? 🥰

I’m sick of how ya’ll sleep on Rami!! I’m gonna give him tons of love

He would be one of the most affectionate sugar daddy’s tbh

Certainly would spoil the HECK out of you

Whether it be paying off your bills or lavish trips to Greece, Rami always has your back

You never had to pay a SINGLE PENNY when you were around him

Being with Rami, you were a changed person

Your fashion game went UPPPP

Like chanel perfume, all designer clothes, nice handbags, you NAME IT

”Rami, I’m not buying a five hundred dollar shirt from Theory.” ”What do you mean? It would look so good on you, sweetheart.”

Yes, Rami bought you the shirt

You two were at a vinyl place and you saw a limited edition queen vinyl

He buys it (and basically 10+ vinyls you love)

SO RAMI MAKES A WHOLE ASS ROOM IN HIS HOME FOR YOUR VINYLS🥺🥺

This man is omfg i loveee him❣️

Little sneak kisses to your forehead

Seeing you smile as you shop and blush at his complaints makes him so freaking happy HE LOVES YOU SO MUCH

He would take you shopping at the best stores

“I would be fine at a target, y’know” as you look around a Gucci store

Rami would snake an arm around your waist as he cooed into your ear, “My baby deserves the best, and nothing but the best

What started out as an arrangement turned into a genuine relationship

When looking for a sugarbaby, Rami was simply looking for company (and someone to spoil the heck out of)

In all truth, he was simply a lonely guy who simply wanted someone to make happy, and made himself happy in the process

Wherever you guys would go, he would always wanna hold your hand and be close to you bc he’s scared of loosing someone he’s made a connection with

And i’m totally not crying as I write this

Both of you were in dark places when you first met

Rami showed how much he truly cared about you

If you called him all upset, he would SPEED over with whatever you needed whether it be pizza or emotional support

Sitting on your couch, his arm wrapped around yours as you vented about your problems

Rami had convinced you to drop your job and come live with him because he’s a KING!!

”Angel, you’re not gonna have to worry about anymore.” ”What do you mean?”

You ended up quitting your job and moving in with him

What turned into an arrangement became an intimate relationship

The sex between you to was AMAZING

it was VERY intimate

It started off slow but would get increasingly rougher god I hate what I said

Rami would always check up and you and NEVER go past your limits

It would end with the two of you cuddling in bed

Let’s just say you never had to worry about your bills ever again😎😎

I MADE MYSELF CRY WHYYY

Gwilym Lee-

my love for this man? ENDLESS

Seriosuly gwilym lee HAVE MY CHILDERN

anyways to the pLOT

Gwilym is the sexiest and cutest man alive

The sugar daddy that will bring you EVERYWHERE HE GOES

He’s such a gentlemen

Like all relationships start, it was more of an arrangement then a relationship

Your job was to escort Gwilym at all these events as “company”

Gwilym would send a bunch of nice items and a driver to bring you to the location

”Hope you like this ❤️ xxx”   “Treat yourself! 😘xxx”

Like mister I-😳😳

Gwilym is literally such a sweet person

Whenever you were spotted with him, you would get thousands of compliemnts/questions

”You’re with Gwilym! So lucky!”

”That necklace is to kill for! Did Gwilym give it to you?”

”Teach my your ways!”

Whenever you’re at these events all these people give you evil stares

Your like👁👄👁 “is Gwilym a playboy??”

Gwilym is all like “what do you mean?? 🥺Of course not! Your the only one that matters to me right now”

He’s such a king we LOVE HIM

Spontaneous trips to France and Italy

Gwilym and you grow super close

Also your dates would range from fancy galas for Gwilym’s works or peaceful book/poetry readings

He LOVES books and always takes you to bookstores and gives his best recommendations

He literally turns into an english teacher while overanalyzing books

”The greenlight in Green Gatbsy is such a crucial symbol”

”Jane Austen is one of the best feminist writers, she was so ahead of her time!”

You wanna be annoyed but can’t

i can’t I LOVE GWILYM LEE I’M NOT SORRY

The two of you would lie in bed together

You would be slouched against his body as he stroked your hair, reading to you in that accent

As much as you love your gentlemen, you get him into the wacky world of ninety day fiance

”This looks like trash...I’m going to watch every minute of it!”

You guys order chinese food and watch this obsessviely for six hours

I know this is meant to be fluffy but why not add some 🌶

Sex with you and Gwil is like ✨fireworks✨

He would make sure you wouldn’t be able to walk the next day let’s just say😉

He would have to carry you around and kiss your head, saying “You're so adorable, poppet” or “Don’t strain your legs, Cariad!”

Also ceo of AMAZING NICKNAMES

”My anwylyd” (Welsh for dearest)

Would 100% write you romantic poems (over text and in paper)

And yes he WOULD dramatically read them to you😤😤✌🏽

He would always greet you with the most over the top nicknames like “Good morning cariad!” or “Sit there and act pretty, my beloved”

hi mr lee please make me your sugar baby

Gwilym is your sugar daddy but also your sweet, book loving man

He loves seeing you happy so in return, you make him happy💓💓

Joe Mazzello-

This one is a wildcard ladies and gays!! 😌😌

Joe definitely does not strike you as a sugar daddy

He seems more like your boyfriend than anything else

The two of you were inseparable

After dinner Joe would take you to a karaoke bar or for ice cream

After the first date you started calling him Joey

Drunken duets to cheesy 80’s romance songs

The two of you would sing your hearts out before vomiting from the copious ammouts of ice cream and vodka

With Joe it’s eithier mcdonalds or Nobu in TriBeCa

Mr.Mazello has range😌✨

This dude is the ceo of cheesy nicknames

”Yes my little lover muffin!”

”What is it cutie patootie?”

”You look amazing buttercup!”

“What’s up, hot stuff?”

In public he calls you “baby” or “lover” dw he saves you from public embarrassment 

You know that meme of will smith and his wife? That is basically you and Joe

My love for his man is infinite

Joe is super clingy

Hand holding and lots of PDA

He wants people to know that your his sugar baby😤😤💓

he will always send texts like

”miss you baby💓💗💓💗!”

”can you grab milk from the store pls??”

”SUGAR HONEY ICED TEA WHERE ARE YOU😩😩🤯🤯🤯”

”Joe, it’s been a day.”

He has so many photos of you in his camera roll

You are his lockscreen😔💓

The ceo’s of amazing instagram photos, whether it be you wearing a burger king crown at Burger King or You guys kissing on a boat with the Italian sunset on a private boat

Captions would be could “my favorite fairytale is our love story” or “yasss queen slay it!”

It’s cringey but god Joe is so adorable

A combination of a child and gentleman ALL IN ONE

All of his friends are like “you guys HAVE to be dating!’

It’s suppose to be nothing more than an arrangement right?

I mean the two of you were living with eachother and he dropped all of this other sugar babies for you

The two of you are master chefs minus the one time Joe burned mac and cheese and set the stove on fire

Also not to get smutty but the sex between you two? Like

Straight up RAMMING to sweet pillowtalk

Anyways Joe being your sugar daddy would definitely not be a bad thing at all😘

Always exchange those “I love you’s” 💕✨

Ben Hardy-

When first seeing Ben on your sugar daddy app, you were 100% intimidated

But upon meeting him, this tough dude was a PUPPY🥺❣️

On the first date he bought you flowers and gave you a hug

“Y/n, right?”

“That’s me!”

“I just wanted to say you look stunning, love.”

You were wearing jeans and literally smiled so much

You know this date was going to go VERY WELL NOW😩✌🏽✨

Instead of a fancy restaurant, Ben took you to a stroll around London

Whatever clothes you wanted? He got it

Whatever cafe you wanted to stop at? Buy all the tea/coffee and pastries you want

Hotel? Trivago

The two of you walked around the city, hand and hand as you got to know eachother

You ended up walking around the city for five hours up until midnight

You laughed and talked about thousands of things

In confusion, you had to see Ben again

As Ben walked you back to your place, you smiled at him,

”I’d like to do that again.”

”Call me when you want, y/n.”

So your “dates” became more frequent

Ben had the best ideas for dates

Dinners at small Italian places, walking around a museum, or just sitting in his place and watching mindless television

He made sure to spoil you

With gifts, literally and figurreitly

Sex was a large piece in your arrangeemnt

But it was not the only thing in your relationship

And it was!! Amazing!!

”You’re so fucking beautiful” as he would kiss your forehead and dive straight into it 🥺😳

Not only could that man be A BEAST but an absolute sweetheart

Everyday you looked forward to not only getting paid by him, but just talking to him for hours on end

He would stay up for hours just to talk to you, whether it be about your lives or anything

and that ladies and gays is a dedicated MAN

No matter what, Ben always found a way to touch you

He always had his hand on the chair behind you or your thigh

You guys would have pillowforts and nerf fun battles together

It would always end with a cuddle session

Frankie would be skeptcial but love you!!

You guys got so close that he took you on a trip to the greek islands AND PROPOSED!! LIKE!! YES!!😌😌😌

LIKE YES POP OFF MISTER BEN HARDY

[illfoandillfie]

Easy As A-B-C

Pairing: Professor!Gwilym Lee x Reader

Summery:  Professor Lee is getting sick of marking papers, you offer an alternative. One where he doesn't need to think at all.

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected sex, bimbofication (without hypnosis), oral sex (m and f receiving), hand job, light dom/sub dynamic, dom!reader, sub!Gwil, overstimulation, maybe a little bit of hair pulling

Words: 4,537

A/N: This was massively massively inspired by my love @dracoladon​ and her Drarry fic Lucid (seriously, go read it because she’s a much better writer than me and also sex dumb Draco is hhhhhhh). Reading it made me want to write more himbo fics but without all the hypnosis stuff thats in my Future Management series. Then I got talking to @peachydeacon​ about himbo!Rog which led to talking about himbo!Gwil and this fic is the result of our discussion lmao. It was also partly inspired by a post on a porn blog that popped up on my dash but I can’t link to that because tumblrs dumb. 

Also, it is a professor gwil fic but set after reader has graduated so it’s all above board lmao

Blurb Advent: Day 24

Taglist:  @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama​ @deakyclicks​ @jennyggggrrr​ @drowseoftaylor​ @hannafuckingsucks​ @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming​ @queenmylovely​ @ilovequeenmorethanyou​ @johndeaconshands​ @borhapbois​ @stardust-galaxies​ @cherries-n-rocknroll​ @rogersslave​ @scorpiogemini 

Gwilym looked unreasonably hot while he was grading papers, his brow knitted, wearing a look of serious concentration made all the more noticeable by the reading glasses sliding down his nose. His loose tie and the undone top buttons of his business shirt lent him a casually dishevelled air, and that wasn’t even mentioning the way he absentmindedly twisted his pen between his fingers as he read and reread sentences he was struggling to understand, occasionally pausing to underline something or write a note in the margins. It all painted a very sexy image, the kind of serious sexy only a professor could achieve, though this sexiness was nowhere near new. You’d found his manner oddly arousing even when he’d been your professor. Of course, that had been a few years ago and well before you’d had your chance encounter in the local second hand bookstore that led you to ask him out. He’d stuttered out something about never having even thought of you as more than his student and “really I feel almost as if I’ll get in trouble for the conversation as soon as I get back to campus.” But the awkwardness soon changed when you confessed to having had a minor crush on him back in the day and having since hoped to run into him. He seemed more open to the idea of dinner with you after that and, if you were being honest, more cocky too, but cocky in a decidedly dignified and charming way. Anyway, one thing led to another and now here you were somewhere close to a year and half later and you were struggling not to stare at Gwil as he graded papers and looked professor-ally disarrayed and hot.

You knew it was something to do with the Romantic era poets that the students had to write about because he’d read a question out to you earlier to get your opinion of if it was confusingly worded. “No, I don’t think so,” “Then why in god’s name do none of my students get it?” he looked about ready to hit his head against the desk until he passed out but he returned to the topmost paper with a sigh and ruffled hair from where he’d run his hand through it. That’s when you’d started trying not to stare. A tall order when all you could think about was dragging Gwil to the bedroom and ravishing him enough to make him forget all about John Keats and poetry and the English language itself. Not that that was exactly hard. No, Gwilym had a tendency to get a little dazed and confused when you really gave it to him. Sex drunk you’d decided to call it. A transformation that you quite delighted in witnessing and causing. Gwil was sharp as a tack usually, always ready with some obscure fact or quote from literature. It was part of what made him such a good teacher, his memory for all things bookish, as well as his approachable (if a little stern) demeanour and his determination to get the best from his students. But it wasn’t hard to shut down his brain, cloud his memory and entirely befuddle him. One time you’d snuck into the bathroom at the restaurant you’d gone to for dinner and poor Gwilym had become so spaced out he’d spilt half a glass of wine in his lap and then walked into the glass door as you left, even with you leading him by the hand. You supposed that what they said about great power and responsibility was true. All the same, it was a fun power to wield and you knew that, with the right sort of attention, you could have Gwilym babbling incomprehensible gibberish with no memory of what a poem even was, which was surely something he’d appreciate right about now.

You blinked yourself from your reverie as, finally, Gwil set his glasses aside and rose from his seat, groaning as he stretched out the stiffness in his back. He rolled his neck back and forth, your eyes following, before letting his shoulders drop and moving to sit next to you on the couch. “I can’t do it anymore, I can’t read another word about Byron or I’ll loose it.” He sighed, draping an arm around your shoulders and leaning into your neck. “Byron? I remember that assignment. Everyone hated you for it,” His breath was warm against your skin as he spoke, sending a tingle down your spine, “Well if this year’s lot is anything to go by, the feeling was probably mutual,” “Mmm, I remember one girl saying she was going to shove her copy of Don Juan up your arse if she didn’t pass,” He lifted his head again and laughed, “And yet my rectum remains Byron fee and no other injuries befell me, so either I taught you enough to get by or you were all a bunch of cowards,” “Bit of both probably. And why would this year’s be any different, huh?” “I don’t know, you haven’t read any of their attempts at cohesive analysis. Some of them are just throwing out terms like allusion and anapestic and personification all willy-nilly, clearly without properly understanding them. ” “I think you’re being too harsh on them. They’re first years after all and it’s not always easy to understand all that poncy poetical bullshit. Plus, you know it all already so of course everyone else seems stupid to you,” “Maybe,” he conceded, though it seemed to take some effort. “Honestly, someone should put you in their position, see how well you go with it,” “Yeah? And who would do something like that?” Gwilym laughed as you shifted to straddle his lap, accepting the kiss you offered, “You?” “Maybe I will. Spell personification for me,” “You know it’s not high school English, right. We don’t do pop quizzes on spelling and grammar.” “I know you don’t, but this is my subject and I’m testing spelling. Besides,” you let your hand drop between you, brushing lightly over the front of his pants, “I promise it’ll be fun.” Gwil gave a half-hearted eye roll, “P-E-R-S-O-N-I-F-I-C-A-T-I-O-N, personification. D’you want me to use it in a sentence too?” You knew he’d get it right. Gwil always had been good at spelling off the top of his head which you supposed was a side effect of all his reading and the years devoted to the written word. But it was still a little annoying. Mostly because he was being a bit of a tool about the whole thing, but it didn’t help that you’d grown quite wet thinking about how you’d like to have him, like to turn him into the fucked out airhead you’d seen before. You shook your head and tutted at him as if he got it wrong. “No, that’s definitely it. I’ve just read it about a hundred times, I know I’m right. P-E-R-S-O-N-I-F-I-C-A-T-I-O-N,” he spelt it faster that time, trying to prove that you were wrong. “Try allusion for me,” “A-L-L-U-S-I-O-N,” Right again. You sighed as if you were disappointed. Gwilym raised his eyebrows but said nothing. “What about caesura?” “C-E-A-S-U-R-A,” The mistake was an easy one to make, two letters flipped around the wrong way, and you could tell he knew it was wrong as soon as he’d said it. He was surprised when you leant forward to kiss him again, cupping his jaw with one hand as you dropped the other and slowly pulled down the zip on his work pants. “But I fucked up,” he said softly, eyes still closed as you pulled away a few centimetres. You just smiled as you thought of a new word, “Anapestic,” It was another word Gwil had mentioned as seeing in his student’s essays so you knew it would be fresh in his mind and he proved as much when he spelt it, “A-N-A-P-E-S-T-I-C,” He was right of course, so you tutted and pulled your hand away from his crotch, grabbing his chin with your other and forcing him to look at you, “You can do better than that.” His features shifted at the sudden loss of contact, the look of concentration returned once more. If anything, your much closer proximity to the expression made him seem all the more hot but you resisted the urge to give in and drag him to the bedroom, curious if he’d catch onto your little game now and, equally so, to see if he’d play along, “Try Onomatopoeia.” A longer word gave him more chances to get things wrong but would his pride and his brain allow that? Apparently so. “O-N-O-M-” Gwil paused and thought for a second, his eyes narrowed as his looked at you, “O-N-O-M-A-T-O-P-I-A,” the last three letters were said with such deliberate diction that you knew he’d figured it out. “Good boy,” you said, letting your hands slip inside his undone pants to massage his dick. His hips jolted at the contact and he let his hands fall to your arse, squeezing. “What about, dactyl?” His reply was instant, unthinking, and totally correct, “D-A-C-T-Y-L,” You clicked your tongue condescendingly as you once again removed your hands from him. “Fuck,” “Well that’s what happens when you get things wrong, honey, and such an easy one too,” “I didn’t get it wro- fine, give me another,” You smiled, unable to hide how delighted you were that he was interested in following your rules, even if it was just his competitive streak rearing its head to show that he could out smart you, “Assonance,” Gwilym spelt the word slowly and carefully, making sure to only say one ‘s’ and to leave off the ‘e’. And you made sure to reward him for it, shuffling backwards on his lap so you could shimmy his pants down his thighs and wrap your hand around his cock. He raised an eyebrow at you but otherwise made no comment as he leant back in his seat to enjoy the attention. “Romanticism,” Once again Gwilym was careful with his spelling, intentionally replacing the ‘c’ with a double ‘s’ but that was the kind of behaviour you wanted to encourage so you kept stroking him off, twisting your wrist, dragging your thumb over his flushed tip. It must have felt good with the way he was sighing, shifting his shoulders as if to move his whole body closer to yours. “So clever baby, what about,” you paused, dredging up memories of poetry analysis and the words you used to have burned into your brain but which you’d not had much use for recently, “Enjambment” “Ummm, E-N,” Gwil hummed as you leant over him and let a trail of spit drip onto his cock, using your hand to spread it over his length, “Enjamb-ment, uh, E-N-J-A- no E, no A, M-E-N-T,” You leant into his ear and spoke softly, “That’s right, being so good for me, so clever. What should I do next though? Ride you? Or maybe suck you off? Or just keep doing this?” “Uh,” Gwilym shook his head a little as if to clear it, “mouth? Please?” “Of course, baby. If you can spell dissonance for me.” You were quietly confident that he’d get the spelling wrong, already noticing the first sign of his impending brainlessness, extra filler words where he’d normally not need them. It was funny though, usually he wouldn’t reach that stage until he was much closer to nutting. “D-I-S” he rushed through the first three letters and then stopped, biting his lip, “T-um, A-N-E-N-C-E.” You were sure the errors in that word were less intentional than the previous few and, as promised, slipped off his lap and settled yourself between his legs, pulling his pants off so he could spread them wider for you. You held eye contact as you let your tongue trail along the underside of his cock, tracing along a vein, though you couldn’t help but smile as he groaned above you. “Can you spell Decasyllable for me?” you asked before closing your lips around the head of his cock. “What? Oh, um, D-E-C-K- fuck,” he broke off as you swirled your tongue around his tip. “Fuck’s not a letter, baby,” you sank down on him again, bobbing a little lower. “I know, um, Deck-syllable, D-E-C-K-A-S-Y-B-L-E, I think. Is that right?” In answer you hummed and took him a little deeper, pushing his shirt up towards his chest. Gwilym took the hint and pulled it off before he grabbed your hair, leaning his head against the back of the couch. For a moment you just focused on sucking him off, listening to his shallow breathing and whiny groans. But you weren’t finished with your game yet.

“Epigraph?” you asked before bobbing down on him again, pushing yourself to take him deeper still. Gwilym remained silent as you gagged and pulled back from him again to breath freely. “Well?” “What did you say?” “Epigraph. Can you spell that?” He nodded as you resumed your bobbing, his hand grabbing at your hair, “E-P-P-E-G-R-A-F-F.” You hummed around him and his hips bucked up, pushing him further down your throat for a second. “No, don’t stop,” he whined under his breath as once again you let him fall from between your lips. “Sorry baby,” you wrapped your hand around his base and switched back to jerking him off, “you’re so hard though and I know you want to earn your orgasm like a good boy,” Gwilym nodded. “Okay, so spell meter,” “M- oh, I don’t know,” “You do know, baby, you just gotta try. Meter,” He scrunched his face up in thought, “M-E-E-T-R,” “See, I said you knew it, and you did it so well!” Gwilym gave you a dopey smile, looking proud at your praise, “I did?” His mouth dropped open with the movement of your hand. “Of course baby! You got it completely right because you’re so clever. What about sonnet, do you think you can do that one for me?” He nodded enthusiastically, “S-N-E-T,” “Very good! Okay, three more and I’ll let you cum,” “Okay!” “Okay, what about,” you thought for a moment, watching your hand pumping over his shaft as you trailed your fingernails lightly over his thigh, “Spell rhyme,” “Ummm,” Gwilym bit his lip in thought, soft grunting noises rising in his throat in time with your strokes. “It’s a bit of a tricky one,” “Yeah.” “And it’s hard to concentrate isn’t it?” “Mmhmm, so hard to con-ten-tate,” he thought for a little longer as you slowed your hand, “rrr- R-I-M,” “So clever baby! Okay canto,” “Oh! Ummm,” Gwilym pouted and whined as you unexpectedly drew the tip of your tongue around his head, “I don’ know,” “No?” He shook his head, eyebrows furrowed. “Okay what about, poem?” Gwilym seemed to have reached the last dregs of his knowledge, grunting in frustration as he shook his head again.” “You sure you don’t know?” He bucked his hips up into your hand as he shook his head again. “Alright, I’ll give you an easy one then. Spell your name for me, spell Gwilym,” Gwil’s eyes lit up at the suggestion but his face quickly slipped into a frown again, the expression getting more pronounced with every passing second he didn’t say anything. He sought out your face, his eyes brimming with frustrated tears, “I don’t…” his fists balled up as he looked to you for help. “You don’t remember?” He shook his head once more, a tear shaking loose and rolling down his cheek, “you said it was easy.” “It’s okay if you don’t know,” “Really?” he sniffled. “Of course it’s okay. You’re not supposed to know things.” “I’m not?” “Awww, of course not baby. That’s why I’m here, to know things, and you’re just here to make me happy.” Gwilym sighed and leaned back against the couch, smiling again. “Do you want to give it a try for me?” “Umm,” he whined as you slowed your strokes “It would make me very happy,” “Okay, umm…G? L? ummmm, M?” “You’re so clever, baby!” Gwilym giggled proudly and grinned at you as you adjusted your grip on his cock. “You’re my good, smart boy, aren’t you baby?” “Mmhmm,” he bucked his hips towards you as you took him into your mouth again. “Feels go-od,” he mumbled, almost panting with how close he was. You dragged the hand that rested on his thigh up to cup his balls as you sucked on his tip until he moaned and came, spilling his seed over your tongue.

You kept working your hand along his length, even after you’d pulled your mouth from him. “Was that a good orgasm baby? Did it make you feel good?” He nodded, pouting a little as you kept wanking him, “good oggsam,” It took all your effort not to laugh at that, biting on the inside of your cheek to keep from letting so much as a chuckle slip. Very few things delighted you as much as when Gwil forgot how to talk properly. “You know,” you said as you finally let his cock free, “sometimes when people have orgasms they feel euphoric. Do you feel euphoric?” “Mmhmm, you-porik.” “Clever boy. Do you want to help me feel euphoric?” “How?” “With your mouth,” “Oh! Okay!” You braced yourself against his knees as you stood, leaning forward to give Gwil a small kiss on the lips. He closed his eyes and smiled up at you contentedly as you shimmied out of your own clothes, dropping them all to the floor. “You going to let me lie down?” you asked, tapping Gwil on the shoulder. He looked around confusedly for a moment before his eyes settled on you, growing wider as he realised how naked you were. Without warning he surged forward, his hands grabbing your arse as he nuzzled his face in the valley between your breasts. If it were up to Gwil he would have stayed there all day but you had need for him elsewhere so you yanked his head back by his hair, earning a small noise of displeasure. “Don’t complain, baby. You want to make me feel euphoric, right?” “Mmhmm,” he hummed earnestly. “And how do you think you could do that?” “I don’t know,” “Maybe, cunnilingus?” “cun-un-un-un-gus,” “Exactly,” you directed his gaze down to your pussy, failing to hide your amused grin. But he was too far gone to notice, happily slipping to his knees in front of you. Telling him to wait for a second, you climbed onto the couch and spread your legs, beckoning him between them once you were comfortable.

He hadn’t been able to say the word but that didn’t mean he wasn’t skilled at the act. A string of soft hums and throaty sounds rose to your lips as he licked your cunt, the scratchy sensation of his beard only amplifying the soft, wet, warmth of his tongue.   “Can you, oh, can you spell poem for me baby?” Gwilym hummed and then started naming letters, his mouth still pressed against your cunt as if he didn’t realise he couldn’t talk and suck at the same time. You didn’t bother to stop him when he said too many letters or correct him when all of them were wrong. You just let his breath wash over you, his tongue flicking against your clit with each new letter, eliciting longer moans and sighs from you. “Fuck Gwil,” you panted, “keep going,” “Keep going,” he repeated, his voice muffled as he dragged his tongue all the way down your slit and then back up again, making you whine. You jolted when he reached your clit again and pressed against his head, keeping him close to you, your other hand trailing up your chest to tweak your nipples and knead your breasts. Occasionally you’d give him an instruction – “faster please,” or “do that again,” or “fuck Gwil, right there,” – and he’d repeat the words back to you, softened and often a little slurred together or mispronounced, before doing as he was asked, drawing you closer to release. He was pleased whenever another groan or mewl slipped from your lips, responding to them with sounds of his own as if he were savouring a particularly delicious meal. It seemed he’d taken what you’d said about making you happy to heart, though some of his whines might have had more to do with his cock, hard again and straining to be touched as his attention remained focused on you. “I’m c-lose ba-by,” you grunted as Gwilym pressed his mouth to your lower lips, as if to give you a soft chaste kiss, only to begin shaking his head side to side, rubbing his face against your cunt. “loase,” he muttered to himself, trailing his tongue back up to your clit, making you grind your hips up into him. It was impossible to keep your mouth shut in the face of such a feeling, wantonly moaning as you felt your orgasm bubbling to the surface. Gwilym hummed against you in response to a particularly loud moan which managed to be your undoing, your knees trying to clamp shut around his head as he continued to suck at your clit.

When you calmed enough to let go of his hair and loosen your thighs from around his ears, Gwilym looked up at you. His face was shiny and wet but he seemed to have regained some of his usual awareness. His eyes weren’t quite as vacant and his smile less dopey than it had been. “Feel good?” he asked, sounding almost normal except for a slight lightness in his tone. “Very good baby,” you leaned forward and kissed him full on the lips, tasting yourself as he opened his mouth and accepted your tongue. Slowly you dropped your hand between you, finding his cock again, not quite done with your brainless toy. He grunted against your lips and bucked into your hand as you stopped his return to sense. “Isn’t this fun?” you said softly as you pulled back, holding Gwil by the chin to stop him from trying to follow. “Yeah, fun,” a smile slowly tugging at his lips, “what is?” “Not needing to think, baby,” “Oh! Yes,” he laughed. “You’re too pretty to have a brain anyway, aren’t you? Much better off letting it leak out of your head,” “Mmhmm, much,” “And do you know what good, dumb boys get?” “No?” “They get fucked. Would you like that?” “Yes yes yes,” “Alright, lie back for me,” you chuckled, giving his cock a final stroke. Gwilym settled on the carpet on his back, grinning as you straddled his lap. Silently he held out his hand, all but two of his fingers folded against his palm. “No, I don’t need your fingers sweetie,” you said, giving the tips of his two fingers a light kiss, “as dextrous as they are and as much as I enjoy them, I think I’m okay skipping straight to your cock,” He nodded, letting you place his hand down on the floor again. You watched his face as you slowly sank down onto him, once again the picture of cunt drunk bliss with glazed eyes and his lip between his teeth. He smiled as you leaned down to kiss him, rolling your hips against his slowly. As you tongues entwined again, Gwilym framed your waist with his hands, slowly dragging them up your sides and onto your chest. He cupped each of your breasts in one of his palms, squeezing softly as you rocked forward and back. “Better than Byron isn’t this?” you asked, pushing yourself up a bit, but not so far you couldn’t kiss him again. “Wha’s Byron?” You laughed, “Y’know I think this might be the dumbest I’ve seen you. Can’t believe all it took was a rigged spelling test. He obviously didn’t understand, staring blankly back at you.

What he did understand was that you were moving further away from him and he whined as you pushed yourself to sit higher again, bracing your hands on his chest as you used your knees to raise and lower yourself. It still wasn’t enough though so you shifted again before too long, placing a hand behind you to grab Gwil’s leg. You leant back on it changing the angle of Gwilym’s cock, and felt his hands drop from your chest, no longer able to reach as easily. They came to rest on your leg, his fingertips digging into your skin as you rode him, keening as you felt the start of your orgasm building in the pit of your stomach. “Fuck Gwil, fill me so well, feels so good,” “My dex-ik-tus cock?” You couldn’t help but laugh, taken by surprise at his misunderstanding and mispronunciation of dextrous, but you nodded in agreement too, repeating your sentiments about how good it felt. “Wanna make me feel even better?” “How?” You sat forward again and reached for his hand, pulling it to your clit. Gwilym took the hint, messily rubbing as you bounced on his cock, but his whines and moans only grew as you rode him. “You’re close?” “Mmhmm,” You were on the verge of asking if he could hold it when he came with a groan, pulsing inside you. But you didn’t stop. “I’m close too, baby, so I’m gonna keep fucking you, okay?” He nodded, eyes fixed on you. “Good boy.” You panted, grabbing his wrist to hold his hand at your clit and adjusting your rhythm. Each time you sank back down onto him you did it harder, slamming his cock into you as deep as you could manage, groaning with each one. Your orgasm was frustratingly close but Gwilym was becoming steadily more sensitive as his subsided, wincing more with each of your thrusts. The winces turned to whimpers which turned to whines as you whispered that you were so close. “Almost baby, almost,” “Please. Hur’s,” “Nearly, just. One. More,” you threw your head back with a moan as you finally found your release, Gwil whining when you pulsed around him, a fresh tear running from the corner of his eye onto the carpet as he squirmed under you.

“Sorry, baby,” you said softly as you carefully dismounted him. He hummed as you kissed him again, leaving an extra kiss against the tip of his nose. “Did so well, such a good boy for me,” “Yeah?” “Mmhmm, so good,” He gave you a slightly watery smile and let you pull him into a cuddle, sighing contentedly when you brushed your fingers through his hair. You stayed like that for a while, knowing that later you’d regret lying on the floor for so long but unable to find the energy to move or the willpower to tell Gwilym you had to let him go. He gradually lost the fucked out expression, becoming more aware of his surroundings and more capable of clear speech. “How are you feeling?” you asked when you realised he’d blinked away the last of his sex drunk vacancy. “Better than before. Little tired but much more relaxed and very satisfied. And, before you ask, yes that’s satisfied and yes I can spell it if you want,” “I believe you.”

[orwocolor]

Love Thy Neighbour - Chapter Seven

Pairing: Gwilym Lee x Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Cursing

Summary: Gwilym shows up in your bookstore to apologise but there still might be more obstacles on your way to happiness.

Author’s Note: And another sprinkle of angst so that chapter six doesn’t feel so lonely. Only one more chapter and an epilogue remain, so keep an eye out for those! Comments and reblogs are always very appreciated :) Check my masterlist to read the previous chapters. Dedicated to my sweetie @justgwilym​.

Dragging your feet, you crash on your sofa, a floral pattern of one of the walls spinning around you. You squeeze your eyes shut, but as you lose the point of focus, you sense a rise of, so far, the most powerful wave of nausea. You fight the feeling and instead fix your gaze on one of the paintings decorating the living room.

Breathe in.

And breathe out.

You should not have drunk that much. But Jane and Charlotte were unstoppable and admittedly, you needed it. After a couple of drinks, you actually started having fun. Daniel turned out to be a very pleasant companion with a taste for slightly dry humour that, partially due to your inebriated state, made you burst in laughter multiple times during the party.

Oh god, you are going to hate yourself so much tomorrow.

Once it seems the whole world will not tilt again and toss you on your side, you brave a few steps into the kitchen and pour yourself a glass of water. Gulping it down, you can already feel its beneficial effects, which are further enhanced when you press the cold glass against your forehead. You serve yourself another drink and with each sip, you begin to trust your legs again.

You release a content sigh as a soft breeze and smell of rain touch your cheeks when you open the windows; it truly does a world of good. Grabbing yourself two slices of toast bread, you settle onto the sofa, open your laptop and click on a random video for you to watch while you wait to get better before you go to bed. If you lay down right now, you’re sure you would throw up.

With an occasional chuckle leaving your lips as you listen rather than watch a stand-up show, you almost miss a soft, hesitant knock on your door. Almost. Your fingers hover above the keyboard as you contemplate pausing the video. If you press the space key right now, there will be no doubt you’ve heard the knocking.

Slowly retracting your hand back to your side, you let the comedian continue in her sketch and you just wait. It probably takes only a minute, but for you, it’s an eternity before you can hear Gwil shut the door to his flat behind him.

You release a breath you have not realised you were holding and hide your face in your palms.

You are not in a state to face him right now. You need some time. And most importantly, you need to put some space between you, otherwise you’re going to care way too much, and you are not in the position of allowing yourself feelings of that sort.

~

“I’m sorry, sir, I’ll be back in a minute, just let me attend to this young lady,” you throw behind your shoulder as you rush to the cash desk and leave a customer in the historical section.

“Maybe I can be of service,” Mr Dean appears next to the customer’s shoulder, who jumps a bit, not expecting someone else, and you send a grateful glance to your friend. You knew you could count on him. Whenever he’s in a good mood, he loves to entertain people in the bookshop and no matter the topic or genre they’re looking for, he turns into an expert, gladly offering recommendations.

You hide a smile when you notice Mr Dean’s eyes sparkling as the man mentions the French revolution and he starts guiding him to the needed section.

“Here you go,” you hand the young woman her bag and say your goodbyes, a shrilling sound of chimes hanging at the entrance door announcing her departure.

While you bend down and disappear behind the till to throw away the receipt the woman didn’t want, the chimes sound again, and you emerge from behind the cash desk.

No.

He’s there, right in front of you, the surprise written in his face matching yours.

“Hello,” Gwil says softly and for a split of a second, you forget to breathe.

You’ve managed to avoid him the whole weekend by some miracle, although, admittedly, on one occasion, when you were forced out of your flat to do grocery shopping, you spotted him at the entrance door when you made a turn to your street. At that moment, you remembered you wanted to check something on your phone, and after fiddling with it long enough for Gwil to get home, you plucked up the courage to do the same.

You assured yourself you just needed some time and space and by the time you would meet him, you would have known what to tell him.

Well, your past self can go screw herself because here you are with your tongue tied.

“Hi, Y/N!” Ben is on Gwil’s tail and greets you cheerfully, his hand raised in a wave.

“Hi,” you manage to blurt out, quite happy with yourself for not butchering the single syllable. It’s all about little victories, right?

“So, uh, I’ll go check some books I guess,” Ben breaks the silence when neither you nor Gwil seems to do so, and scurries farther into the store.

“I am so, so sorry, Y/N,” Gwil eventually breathes out and raises his lowered eyes. “I wish I could have a good reason for not showing up the other day and for copping out on you like that, but I just don’t. I…”

He looks around and bites his lips, looking for a way of how to finish his sentence in books-filled shelves.

You wait patiently because you have the feeling that there is something he needs to say, and it would be ill-advised to interrupt his thoughts.

“Okay, I’m probably already not in your good books, so why not make even a bigger twat of myself, eh.”

“Ha, in the good books. Get it? You’re in a bookshop,” you chuckle, your voice not as strong as you would like it to be.

“Yeah,” he replies, and the corners of his lips rise up slightly. Soon, his voice turns serious again. “Well, I went to that stupid audition and I just fucked it up. Yeah, there’s no better word for that. I fucked it up, big time. I tried to persuade them to give me another chance, I said I would do anything, and the production assistant surprised me. She promised me another audition if I went for a drink with her afterwards, and I… didn’t refuse.” He takes a deep, shaky breath, presumably the first one since he started explaining what had happened. “I wasn’t thinking, and when I realised I was supposed to be with you, it was too late.”

“You could have called me,” you say slowly, daring to meet his gaze.

“My phone was dead. I was fiddling with it so much while I was waiting for the audition. Was driving Ben absolutely crazy.”

“Can confirm!” Ben’s head peeps out from behind a shelf and quickly hides again when he spots both your and Gwil’s not so amused expressions.

“Still,” you start and shake away the trembling feeling that is creeping to your voice, “You could have come by later and explain all of that to me that night.”

By some miracle, it’s as if he senses the direction of your thoughts, and rushes to set the record straight, offering the absolution you haven’t, until now, realised you desperately craved.

“The moment it dawned on me what a jerk I was, I said my goodbyes and left. But it was too late, and I felt like such a prick, so I actually dropped in another pub and drank some more. Was so shit-faced I stayed at my brother’s ‘cause he lives in that area.”

A great weight is lifted from your shoulders and you can finally take a deep and long breath. You feel a smile tugging at the corners of your lips but Gwilym does not see it; he is avoiding your eyes, as mortification keeps surrounding his whole person.

“I am so, so sorry,” he repeats once again and the moment the words leave his lips, you forgive him.

Actually, you already have.

You are just about to tell him so when he finally finds the courage to look into your eyes as he reaches out and gently grasps your hands that have been resting on the counter.

“Please, can you forgive me?”

His thumbs are lightly stroking your skin and you cannot tear away your gaze from his beautiful blue eyes.

“Sir, I must ask you to leave right now!”

Wait, what?

It takes you a moment to become aware of where you are and what is happening. The bookshop, right. And as for what is going on…

“Sir, I won’t repeat myself, leave this building immediately!” Peter’s voice reaches such volume that every customer stops in their tracks, their curiosity taking the better of themselves.  

“I was only showing this young lad the historic section. I don’t reckon it’s a crime,” Mr Dean responds in his defence, which only infuriates Peter some more.

“You’re always just helping other customers, or browsing, or, God forbid, reading our books without paying a single penny for them. I want you gone. This is not a library!”

“Peter,” you say weakly, not capable of wrapping your head around it. He isn’t supposed to be here, otherwise you would have warned Mr Dean beforehand.

“Is that the Mr Dean you told me about?” Gwil whispers and it is only then when you notice your hands are still placed in his and his face is much closer to yours than you remember.

“Yes, I’m–” you start but Gwilym won’t let you finish the sentence.

“Trust me, darling. I’ll stop by at your place at around seven, okay?” he hastily says and places a soft kiss to your cheek before leaving you at the till dumbfounded.

“Grandpa!” he greets joyfully and rushes to Mr Dean to give him a proper hug. “Have you found the book you told me about?”

Mr Dean shoots a glance your way before he replies. “Ah, I… Yes. Yes, yes, I did, give me a second.” You’re taken aback by his quick reaction because you have not moved from your spot, your jaw down, and you are pretty sure your arms are still stretched in front of you although Gwilym’s warm palms are no longer holding them. You fix your posture in an instant and clear your throat, at least trying to give the impression of having everything under control.

Although you are not particularly proud of yourself, you’re still doing better than Peter. He is just standing there, opening his mouth like fish as no words are leaving his lips.

Gwilym pretends he has only just noticed him and raises his eyebrows in make-believe innocence. “Is there any problem here?”

It takes a couple of moments before Peter gathers his bearings.

“I’m sorry, but this is your grandfather?” he finally finds his voice and points an accusatory finger at your dear friend.

“Yeah! He’s been wearing my ear off about this wonderful book he discovered here, so I’m here to get it for him. For his birthday, you know? Which is coming soon, isn’t that right, grandpa?”

“In a couple of days, actually,” Mr Dean confirms and nods his head seriously as if contemplating the fleetingness of time and existence.

“Urgh, I’m the worst grandson ever, really, looking for gifts this late, I should be ashamed of myself.” You are fascinated by Gwil’s acting; he doesn’t miss a beat and comes up with lies so quickly, all you can do is stare in astonishment. It’s not like anyone needs you right now because all customers are watching the scene unfold.

“Ah, got it!” The victorious announcement of Mr Dean makes Gwil turn on his heel and leave Peter behind.

“Wow, that’s really pretty! You weren’t lying about the photographs.” Gwil expertly inspects the pictures of various relics and nods, approvement and appreciation readable from his pursed lips. “Excellent! We’ll take it.” He closes the book in one swift motion and heads to your cash desk.

By this time, you have composed yourself enough to remember all the common niceties, and you are quite proud of your performance as you easily scan the book that you’ve seen cradled in Mr Dean’s palms many afternoons and punch the price into the card reader so that Gwil can pay.

“Would you like it gift-wrapped?” you do not forget to ask and when your gaze meets Gwil, your heart starts beating so fast you almost can’t hear the answer.

“Oh yes, please, that is if we’re not bothering you.” Gwil’s smile lights up his whole face.

“No bother at all,” the corners of your lips rise in a matching smile and you procced to neatly wrap the book in a piece of brown paper, taking extra care to tie a dark blue ribbon around the package.

“Thank you so much, have a lovely day!” Gwilym places the book under his arm and leaves the shop, Mr Dean on his tail offers a wave and a wink that, hopefully, Peter cannot see.

Through the display window, you almost miss Gwil turning around and mouthing ‘see you tonight’ before he and Mr Dean disappear behind the corner. You almost burst into laughter when Ben suddenly emerges from behind the bookshelves and dashes after them.

You have got the feeling that Peter is mumbling something, but all you can think about is your lovely neighbour and the kiss he ever so gently placed on your cheek.

You resist the temptation to touch your face, wondering whether the imprint of Gwil’s lips can be found there, or whether the gesture is forever inscribed into your mind only.

But then, you finally register Peter’s words...

“I can’t believe it! And of all days he’s got to pick today and embarrass me in front of the buyers. God damn it!”

… and your smile freezes.

~

Buyers.

The sequence of syllables still sounds foreign and dangerous to your ears.

Buyers.

No matter how many times it rolls off your tongue, the word remains the same.

So that’s it. Peter’s made up his mind and he is going to sell the bookshop. And that leaves so many questions unanswered. The new owners, are they going to keep the staff, or do they plan to hire a new bunch of people? Is there even some certainty that they will not rebrand and establish a branch of a fast-food chain? It’s not like the city is flooded with them, right.

You feel the dizziness creeping up your neck as those thoughts swirl in your head, not permitting you a moment of peace. You almost crash into a passer-by, but thankfully you manage to keep yourself upright and the take-out bag with your late lunch intact in your hold.

Once you finally arrive home, you heat up the food you have brought with you and open your favourite book in a desperate attempt to diverge the direction of your thoughts.

You are torn between biting your nails from the uncertainty of your future career and halting in the story and daydreaming about Gwilym’s visit tonight. And with that mindset, you go about your day while you clean up, water plants, and dust your flat; you have been putting it off for ages.

Emerged in thoughts, you almost mishear the buzzing sound of the bell. You are wearing baggy trousers and an old t-shirt with stains God-knows from what. You have reckoned you’ve still got time to change before Gwil’s visit. Oh well, he has seen you at your worse.

However, your brows furrow as you step into the hall and catch a glimpse of the digital clock.

5.40 p.m.

Swinging the door open, you are met with no one. Another sound of the bell and the line on your forehead deepens.

“Hello,” you mutter when you press the intercom, and the static comes through.

“Y/N! Hi! Ready to go out and grab coffee with me?”

It takes a moment before the dots connect.

“Oh, Daniel, hi! I… erm… can you give me ten minutes?”

“Sure thing!”

The dash across your flat, from the door to the dresser, then to the bathroom and back to the hall could be considered a match to any Olympian’s winning sprint race, but it is too early after your accident and your ankle makes itself known. You grit your teeth and grab a purse, leaving your flat and hoping no appliances have stayed turned on.

How could you have forgotten?! Stupid, stupid, stupid!

“Hi!” you greet breathlessly when you fly from the entrance door, and Daniel gives you a lopsided smile.

“You forgot, didn’t you?” No matter how hard you try not to give anything away, the blush on your cheeks betrays you. “Oh my God, you did!” Barking out a laugh, he lets you take a couple of deep breaths before you start walking down the street. “Maybe it should be you who’s gonna buy the coffee today.”

“Gladly,” you smile and spot a cosy café. For a split second, you consider taking him to Hazel’s, but then you imagine the soft hues of brown and gold against black and white background of your most beloved café. Your mind goes straight to the day you bumped into Gwil and Ben in there and you do not wish to stain that memory. Besides, this café is right behind the corner of your block of flats, which means you shouldn’t get stuck at some far-off place. “Actually, I owe you ‘cos I’ve got some plans at seven and I need to get home by then.”

“Oh, okay,” he replies hesitantly, and you bite your lips, feeling like an arse. Well, you can make it up for him by paying for the coffee, right?

~

You are trying. You are really, truly trying. Daniel is nice. Funny, smart, and knows all the iconic movie lines off pat, however, the moment you look into his eyes, you feel nothing, there is no bated breath, no heart beating fast. Nothing. And honestly, it seems you are not making a particularly good impression either. He takes notice of your constant checking the time on your phone, and when you catch yourself doing it for an umpteenth time, you roll your eyes at yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter after a moment of silence, which you wish were a companionable one, but you are too fidgety.

“It’s fine, I get it,” Dan offers a sheepish smile, which you return. “Let’s get you back home, okay?”

The wind is chilling and light drizzle lands on your hair. As you walk down the street, you notice that Daniel is trying to gently hold your hand. It starts with your fingers brushing and you would dismiss it as an accidental touch but when his fingertips graze the back of your palm, you sense the intention in the gesture. You bring your hand up, brushing off a damp strand of hair and scratching the back of your neck so as not to give him another opportunity for touch.

Hoping this debacle is behind you now, you say your goodbyes and grab the door handle to your building. Oh, how foolish!

“I know you’re lost in thought today but it was a nice date and honestly, I’m not ready for it to end.” He gives you a smile and his eyes sparkle when you stop in your tracks and turn your head to face him.

His gaze drops down to your lips and you are (literally) taken aback by the movement to such extent that your body shoots away. In the process, you press your back to the doorbell panel and jump a bit, not expecting that kind of contact.

“Careful.” Daniel’s fingers find your waist to keep you upright. “I realise I might not be the man of your dreams, but I hope we can go for dinner next time.”

“I…” you start, unable to find the words that would not hurt him.

“No, don’t say anything,” he whispers, and it is only then when you realise his face has inched closer to yours. And then he presses his lips to yours, and you freeze at the spot.

Your eyelids do not tremble with emotion, neither do you melt into his touch. You just stand there, barely moving your lips and thinking that this guy just cannot take a hint. You might have been waving the ‘I am not interested’ flag right in front of his face and he still would be none the wiser.

When he finally lets go, your gaze is still fixed forward and you suck in your lips in a subconscious effort to prevent him from another attempt of a kiss. However, you catch a flicker of light in the corner of your eyes and without giving it a second thought you twist your neck, and your gaze falls into the entrance hall. The windowpane which reflected two figures kissing a moment ago turns transparent and reveals a figure standing inside.

He’s there, at the top of the staircase, taking you by surprise for a second time this day.

But this time, his eyes are hurt behind his glasses, a deep line is forming on his forehead, and it seems as if he’s rooted to the cold stone floor. Your heart is breaking at the sight of him and you know you must do anything within your power to atone for this moment because you never ever want to see such pain written in his face.

“Gwil,” you breathe out softly and bend down to escape Daniel’s embrace. Pushing the main door, you rush to your neighbour, your friend, your… “Gwil, this means nothing, I’m not –”

“My doorbell rang, and I was foolish enough to think you couldn’t wait until seven. I…” He is avoiding your gaze, his eyes roving round the hall. He brings his hands to his sides, but quickly finds out there are no pockets in his soft camel pleated trousers and so he clasps them together. When he bites his trembling lips, it is almost unbearable to keep your eyes on him, but you cannot look away either.

Then, his features harden, and it is probably worse than before as your stomach tightens.

“Goodbye.”

You almost miss the sound, his voice barely above a whisper. Tears threaten to fall down your cheeks, but Gwilym is already gone, his moccasins tapping against the cold tiles of the stairs. You fight the urge to wrap your arms around yourself and have a breakdown right here and now. All you do is simply turn around, every movement calculated so as not to make an unnecessary one. Daniel is still standing at the entrance, his eyebrows raised in the piqued curiosity of what has just occurred.

“I can’t go for another date with you. I’m sorry.”

But you don’t feel sorry at all, well, not sorry for him at least. Your thoughts have turned into a tangled ball of turmoil and indescribable emotions, which are hard to make sense of.

When you reach your floor, you stop in your tracks to your flat. You have thought you lost all the courage, but you muster some from deep inside and cross the hall to knock on his door with determination.

God knows how long you are standing there, you knock again, and again.

Nothing.

Not even a sign of hope.

Your heart skips a beat when you finally hear the creak of a door being open, but a lump forms in your throat instead when it dawns on you that it is not Gwil’s door but Mrs Thompson’s.

“Hello Mrs Thompson,” you greet meekly the slightly open door of the 3A flat and drag your feet to your home.

You do not bother taking off your shoes or clothes. Crushing straight into your bed, you finally give yourself the permission to let your emotions flow and cry yourself to sleep.

~

Taglist: @lv7867​, @spacedustmazzello​, @queenwouldyourathers​, @im-an-adult-ish​, @fairestkillerqueenofall​, @supernaturalee​, @queenlover05​, @geek-and-proud​, @chlobo6​, @mrsmazzello​, @timeandpixiedust​, @kerouacsroad​, @gwilsmainhoe​​

[borhap-au]

MASTERLIST

Joe Mazzello (the fluffy chronicles):

Meeting Joe on set of the Pacific.

Only an assistant. 

Perfect boyfriend material.

Passed out.

Joe’s girl feels down and needs him to be there for her.

Scars.

A blue day.

“You’d be better off with someone else”

Comforting Joe. 

Talking about future.

Defending your relationship against his family.

Joe’s birthday.

Surprises. 

Falling asleep in Joe’s arms.

Telling Joe you’re pregnant.

Jealousy. Angst.

Sub!Joe. Testing the waters.

In honour of the Black History Month:

Joe + black!gf. New hairstyle.

Joe + black girl. First date(s).

Eugene Sledge series “No one understands”:

Part one.

Part two.

___

Rami Malek: 

Your villain. 

Only (?) friends with benefits - smut.

Argument.

Winter holidays.

Prom.

Dad!Rami (babygirl).

___

Ben Hardy:

A hidden motif (6 underground fic).

Stargazing.

His dancer.

Nightmare.

Comforting Ben.

Watching over you when you sleep.

Friends to lovers.

Ben!Roger smut - a fight.

Cutting your hair short. Smut.

Dad!Ben (babygirl).

Coming home to his wife and kids.

___

Gwilym Lee: 

Gwil x bookstore employee.

Girlfriend on her period.

Tall girlfriend.

Struggling with your weight.

Friends to lovers.

Going grey, dad!Gwil.

Dad!Gwil (babyboy).

___

Bonus:

HS!BoRhap

Christmas in pandemic. 

Bohemian strippers.

[missborhap]

Can I please get a Queen/BoRhap ship??? I’m 5’7” and have very long, brown hair with light blue eyes with thick eyebrows. I’m learning how to play bass guitar and I’m quiet and reserved. I love every genre of rock! My hobbies include roller skating, reading, ballet, and I’m a fan of horror movies. At university I’m studying astrophysics and have an alternative/vintage style. Thank you!💙

I ship you with

Roger Taylor

He is very interested in your interests. Roger sometimes gets over protective when you talk to Brian about astrophysics and John with bass. You both can binge watch horror films. Everytime weekend he is home with you, he focuses on you and your interests. Lots of rock music played in your house :)

Gwilym Lee

The both of you love filling your home with a vintage style, few places in your home are an organizanized clutter. He loves to role blade with you. Roller blading dates :) He takes a little to get the hang of it, he is practically is a tree. But a roller blading tree at the end of the day. For some reason, Gwilym loves reading to you. Bookstore dates are a must.

[fallingprincess]

Send me a character/person, a place and a color and anything else you might want and I will write a little something for you  ❤️   

***

Ben Hardy

Ben, London, grey, him dealing with the readers depression

Ben, bed, red, cuddling & anxiety 

Ben, London, red, vintage shop

Ben, yellow, France

Ben, in the car, black, reading driving and just talking to Ben

Ben, bed, white, laying together and reading

Ben, set, green,banana

Ben, set, pink, reader hits Ben with a book Harry Potter style

Ben, couch, green, vampire!reader

Ben, floor, lilac

Ben, green, Paris

**

Joe Mazzello

Joe, garden/park, yellow

College!Joe, campus, marroon

Joe, green, New York City, the song ”Nothing Matters When We’re Dancing”

Joe, train station, hot pink, your son

Joe, award show, yellow, afterparty

Joe, New York, red, cooking

**

Roger Taylor

Roger Taylor, airport, purple, coffee

Roger Taylor, aeroplane, blue

Roger Taylor, meadow, yellow

Roger Taylor, your shared flat, Hide and Seek

Roger, 80s, home, speaking German to your 3 year old, Roger faking jealousy

**

Gwilym Lee

Gwilym, palace, vampire, turquoise

Gwilym, bookstore, red

**

Ashton Irwin

Ashton Irwin, grey, couch

Ashton Irwin, bed, white, teaching him German

[writingfortoomanyfandoms]

Shyer Than Me

Pairing: Gwilym Lee!Brian May x Reader

Summary: The band want to meet Brian’s girlfriend - Brian reflects on his time with her

Requested: No but I love Brian so fucking much and haven’t written for him properly before

Warnings: Swearing, lots of references to English literature (whoops), italics mean it’s set in the past!

A/N: so this is my first full-length Brian fic! Please remember to let me know what you think - I love hearing from you guys!! Reading your comments, reblogs and asks really make my day and inspire me to write more and I also kinda love the way this turned out so please let me know if you want me to write more for Brian (bc I totally want to write more for him :))

“We’re just saying, Bri, you guys have been dating for how long now?” Roger asked the university student as he tuned his guitar.

“A year and three months,” the soft-spoken man said, not looking up at the drummer as he answered his question, though there was a smile on his face, a smile that was always present whenever Y/N was brought into the conversation.

“Right, you guys have been dating a year and three months now, you’ve told her you love her, she loves you, she’s met your family and yet we can’t meet her?” Brian raised his mop of curly hair just in time to see Roger gesturing between himself and the other two band members.

“You’d scare her off,” Brian shrugged and Freddie scoffed.

“Please, darling, if she’s stuck around this long I hardly think meeting the rest of us will scare her,” Brian rolled his eyes, setting his guitar to the side, finally finished with tuning. He stood and stretched, feeling the satisfying click of his muscles as they stretched out.

“We don’t know anything about her other than you love her, Brian, and that one photo in your wallet,” John said, putting it more gently than the other two. Brian raised his eyebrows at his friends.

“How do you know about the photo of her in my wallet?”

“None of us wanted to pay for the food when we went out a few months and you had left you wallet unattended,” Roger waved him off.

“It was Roger’s idea if you couldn’t tell,” John added, laughing at Roger’s nonchalant response.

“She’s hot though,” Roger added helpfully. Brian’s smile widened and he nodded.

“She’s beautiful,” he agreed.

“So we can meet her?” Brian shook his head, a laugh escaping his lips at his best friend’s persistence.

“Nope!”

“Then at least tell us about her!” Freddie demanded. Brian rolled his eyes, becoming well aware of the fact that, for once, the men weren’t going to back down on the subject of his girlfriend.

“We need to prepare for the show,” he tried but the men shook their heads, each of them taking a seat. Freddie pulled Mary onto his lap and they all looked at him expectantly.

“We have hours to go before the show, we’re fine,”

“We just want to hear about your girlfriend!” Roger groaned, throwing his head back. Brian let out a long sigh before giving a slow nod, taking a seat on his amp.

“What do you want to know?” The boys eyes lit up at the question.

“How did you meet?” A smile crossed his face as he remembered meeting Y/N for the first time.

“Are you okay?” Brian asked, approaching the girl. She was stood on her tiptoes, desperately reaching for a book at the top of the shelf in the bookstore. She turned to Brian and immediately looked away, ducking down to hide her face.

“I’m fine, thank you,” she whispered and Brian noticed the adorable way in which she played with her fingers, clearly shy and embarrassed. 

“Do you want me to get that down for you?” He offered gently, not wanting to scare off the woman but at the same time not wanting to stop talking to her - she was gorgeous, there was no doubt about that. And this was probably the longest conversation he had successfully held with an attractive woman in over a month.

“I don’t want to be a bother,” she denied quickly, twisting her fingers together as she risked a look at Brian under her lashes. He gave her a reassuring smile and shook his head easily.

“No bother at all, love, don’t worry. For once my height may actually come in handy,” he joked and a sense of accomplishment and pride filled his chest at the sound of her quiet laughter filling his ears.

“Then if you don’t mind,” she agreed shyly. Brian shook his head and reached his hand up.

“Which one?”

“Keats, please,” the pretty woman asked, holding her hands out for Brian to place the large book of poetry into.

“You read a lot of poetry?” He asked, not wanting to stop talking to her. 

“I study English Literature at the university,” she explained, a quiet smile on her face.

“That’s cool! I study Astrophysics there,” Brian said. The woman bit her lip and looked at Brian through her lashes.

“I have some other books to pick up,” she whispered and Brian nodded, feeling disheartened that the woman didn’t appear to want to spend more time with her. “Would you um...” she trailed off, looking away as she tried to collect herself. Brian’s heart picked up a little at how adorably confused she seemed.

“It’s okay, love,” Brian chuckled.

“Would you like to come with me?” She offered, closing her eyes as though preparing herself for rejection. 

“I’d love to,” Brian agreed. “I’m Brian, by the way, your own personal step ladder,” she giggled at his words and shifted the book of poetry to rest in just one of her arms so that she could shake his hand.

“Y/N,”

“That’s... kind of really sweet,” Roger said uncomfortably, clearly not used to enjoying hearing romantic stories of his friends.

Roger never was the romantic type.

Brian looked down, shifting awkwardly.

“Yeah, well...” he trailed off, clearly unsure of how to finish his sentence.

“So you two just hit it off from there?” Mary asked, clearly invested in the story. Brian shrugged, smiling a little at the memory.

“Pretty much,” he agreed.

“Did she stop being shy and awkward?” Roger asked and John elbowed him, causing both of them to start laughing. Brian shook his head at them rolling his eyes but smiling nonetheless.

“On our first date she was still pretty shy at first but opened up a little more as it went on,”

Brian bounced on the balls of his feet, biting his lip as he stared down at his watch. He was stood outside of her home - it was a house that she shared with her roommates from university, Y/N had mentioned over the phone that there were six of them including herself living there.

It must be a completely different dynamic to that between him and Roger living together.

He didn’t want to be too early for there date - not wanting to come across as too eager or anything that may scare her off after she had agreed to it, which had taken a lot of convincing in itself.

It was safe to say that Y/N was probably the shyest person Brian had ever met.

It was fine, though. If anything he found it cute. Her shyness made him want to be more confident, to look after her.

“Are you Brian?” His head snapped up towards the door. A man stood in the doorway, eyebrows raised as he looked at the guitarrist.

“Uh - yeah,”

“Here for Y/N then?”

“Yeah,” the man stepped back, offering him entrance to the house.

“Come inside - it’s cold out,” Brian nodded and walked up to the door, entering into the hallway. “I’m James - one of her roommates,”

“It’s nice to meet you,”

“You too - Y/N/N hasn’t stopped talking about you,” James laughed before walking to the stairs. “Y/N/N! Your date’s here!” He shouted loudly and turned back to Brian. “Cat’s just helping her finish getting ready,” he informed the musician. Brian nodded, swallowing and wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans.

“Well I’m quite early,”

“It’s fine - good, actually. Put Y/N’s mind at rest,” he laughed, shaking his head and then seemed to pick up on Brian’s confused expression. “She was fairly sure you were going to cancel on her or something,” Brian chuckled and shook his head quickly.

“Definitely not - I’ve been looking forward to this for the past two days - just ask my roommate, he’s sick to death of hearing about it,” James threw back his head and laughed just as there were light footsteps on the staircase.

“Hey Brian,” she said quietly. Brian struggled to keep his mouth closed as he stared at her in wonder.

She was dressed simply in a cute sundress, her hair done up properly and her make-up done to perfection and yet Brian had never been quite so awestruck by a woman before.

“I wasn’t sure how smart or casual you meant by smart-casual,” Y/N admitted, a shy smile on her face as she awaited Brian’s response. The curly-haired man cleared his throat and grinned at her.

“You look amazing,” Y/N giggled a little at his words and took his outstretched hand, grabbing her bag from the side as the two of them passed the table on their way out of her home. “Do you like Italian food?”

“I love it,” she grinned, squeezing his hand, sending Brian’s heart into a frenzy of out of time beats.

Every time that he looked at her Brian felt an overwhelming urge to kiss her. When she laughed at his jokes, when she was telling anecdotes about her roommates, when she started speaking so passionately about English Literature and poetry. Everything she did made him want to kiss her.

But he didn’t.

He wasn’t about to mess this up.

“You didn’t kiss her?” John asked, eyes widening slightly. Brian shrugged and shook his head.

“It wasn’t the right time,” Brian explained. Roger scoffed.

“It’s always the right time,”

“And that, Roger, is why you have yet to be in a serious relationship,” Mary added, the comment taking all of them by surprise, the group of them busting up into laughter.

“I don’t know how you like this shit,” Y/N laughed, closing Brian’s heavy textbook and tossing it to the side, turning instead to face him. He pouted.

“You were meant to be testing me,”

“You know it all,” Y/N waved him off, the smile on her face wide and genuine, a far cry from the shy one that had seemed a near-permanent fixture on her face for the first two weeks of their relationship.

“Is that so?” Brian asked, rolling over on her bed so that he was hovering above her, eyes crinkled as he smiled down at her.

Y/N reached up and gently tucked one of his unruly curls behind his ear, out of his face and ran her hand tenderly down his jaw, her face softening.

“Definitely,” she agreed. 

“Yeah?”

“You’re the smartest person I know, Bri - you’re going to ace the test,” she promised. Brian chuckle a little, his heart swelling with adoration and he ducked down to press his lips to one cheek, then the other.

Before he could pull away again, Y/N caught his face in her small hands, her palms resting on his cheeks.

“Kiss me?” She asked, her original shyness coming back as she spoke her words, though Brian grinned and nodded.

“I’d love to,”

The kiss was soft and innocent, a brushing of lips and a bumping of noses but it left the two of them grinning insanely widely as they stared at one another.

Finally Y/N moved her arms to wrap around his shoulders, tangling in his long curly hair and pulling him back down into a kiss.

“You guys are so cute,” Mary sighed, smiling at the stories as she relaxed back into Freddie’s arms.

“You guys study together?” John asked, raising his brows at him.

“Yeah, used to get quite a lot done,” Brian agreed. He picked up his guitar, just for something to do and moved his fingers back to the tuning pegs, despite knowing it was already tuned.

“You know nothing about English Literature,” Roger pointed out and Brian shrugged.

“I try to learn about it though - it doesn’t matter, she tests me on Astrophysics and she has no idea what half the words even mean,”

“How did your parents react when they met her,”

It was one of the few weekends that Y/N was spending at Brian’s home. 

The couple rarely spent time at Brian’s apartment on account of Roger always being there.

Not that Y/N had anything against Roger, it was just that she wasn’t ready to meet all of Brian’s friends, particularly the most outgoing ones such as Roger and Freddie.

But this was one of the few weekends that Roger had gone back to his family to spend time there.

And Brian saw it as a good opportunity to invite his parents down to meet his girlfriend. By this point they had been dating for five months and had even managed to exchange “I love you”’s with one another and it was needless to say that Brian had talked his parents ears off about Y/N.

“Are you sure they’ll like me?” Y/N asked nervously as she bustled around the kitchen, preparing the meal for them to eat. Brian laughed, coming up behind her and kissing her cheek gently.

“Of course they will, love - they’re going to love you,” he promised. Y/N sighed and turned to face him properly.

“I’ve never really met my boyfriend’s parents before,” she admitted, playing with the necklace resting on his chest. Brian gave her an affectionate smile and shook his head.

“You’re going to do amazingly, my love. They already love you anyway,”

“Oh yeah?”

“I love you and that’s enough for them,” Brian promised, kissing her tenderly for a moment before breaking away. “Come on, I’ll set the table,”

When Brian’s parents did arrive, they were swift to pull Y/N into hugs, introducing themselves with their first names and complimenting her on both her appearance and how the food smelt delicious.

Brian held Y/N’s hand under the table all through the meal, squeezing it tightly whenever he could sense her nerves, though they seemed to quickly dissipitate once her and his father got onto the conversation of their favourite Shakespeare plays - arguing over who the best villain was (Harold thought Don John whereas Y/N insisted that Richard III was far more complex and misunderstood and was therefore a better villain as a result of his complex reasonings and lack of any other personality traits) and seeing her getting along so well with his family made his heart beat out of his chest.

When they left that night, Brian’s mum invited Y/N to come stay with them in a couple of weeks time when Brian was coming up, insisting that they had to get to know each other better.

“I told you they’d love you,” Y/N let out a sigh of relief and allowed herself to fall back into Brian’s embrace.

“That was the most stressful dinner of my entire adult life,” she informed him.

“Excuse me, Brian? There’s someone here who says they know you?” Brian frowned at the man and stood up, walking over to the door. “A Y/H/C woman, she was quite shy and said that she was your girlfriend?” Brian completely lit up at that and nodded enthusiastically.

“Yeah, yeah of course! I’ll be right there!” Brian grinned, before turning back to his band mates. “I’ll be ready to play I promise,” was all he said before moving out into the main area of the pub.

It didn’t take him long to locate Y/N because, a soon as he exited the backstage area, Y/N flew towards him and hugged him as tight as she could. Brian gave a laugh of delight and returned the affection, nestling his face in her hair and breathing deeply.

“You came!”

“Of course I did, Bri,” Y/N laughed quietly, looking up at him and then moving to connect their lips together.

“I love you so much,”

“I love you too,” Y/N giggled. Brian looked behind him towards the door through which he had just arrived and bit his lip unsurely before turning back to Y/N.

“Do you want to meet some people?”

[39-things-called-love]

Could I get a ship? I’m 5’1”, I have long dirty blonde hair, and hazel eyes. I play the piano and sing, and I also really love reading and writing. I’m loyal, blunt, sarcastic, and caring to those who I love. When people first meet me I typically come off as mean/rude because I’m not naturally an open book and I have a tendency to just make sarcastic comments sometimes in hopes to be left alone (for whatever reason). When people get to know me, I’m very kind and usually open, though. 🖤

Yes Of course Lovie!

For Queen I ship you with Roger Taylor!

Now he isn’t too used to girls not immediately trying to jump his bones. And when you aren’t, he’s intrigued to say the least. He’s actually taken slightly aback at first by your sarcastic comments but that just pulls him in more. When you two finally get comfortable around each other it all just fits together perfectly. No one can remember a time you weren’t apart. Sometimes he likes to make you read stories to him and lie his head in your lap as you do, and sometimes he falls asleep but that’s okay because you love each other more than anything.

For Borhap I ship you with Gwilym Lee!

So I picture you guys meeting at a bookstore you see he is looking at a book you like and discussion just sort of begins about different novels and such. And with such you trade numbers and you just keep talking. Everything just seems to flow so beautifully between the two of you and the relationship blooms beautifully. He loves listening to you play piano and sing. He could literally listen to you all day long. When he watches you he just becomes entranced and he can’t focus on anything. The minute you sing a note or touch a key he stops whatever he’s doing to come listen to you.

[istheresomebodywhocanimagine]

Hi! If you’re still doing them, may I please get a BoRhap/Queen ship? I’m a hetero girl, 26, 158 cm and chubby. I’m trying very hard to overcome my natural shyness and now I feel a lot more comfortable initiating conversations and talking in front of many people (I’m leading uni seminars actually). A huge perfectionist and even bigger nerd. Tomboyish. Don’t like PDA at all and am not a huge believer in true love. I’m a very caring, gentle, calm, kind and friendly person. I love books, films 💕💕

HELOOOOO

sorry im not active a lot yall ugh i’m working every day just so i can manage to pay rent hehe existing is hard

so, as an extension, this ship might be a little shorter than usual,, sad days :(

ships below the cut!

For BoRhap, I ship you with Gwilym Lee!

Gwilym is a complete sucker for soft babes like you! He loves your tomboyish ways and LOVES talking films with you. The height difference? No problem. He loves the fact that you’re so much smaller than him - it makes it easier to spoon ;))))

I’d imagine you and Gwilym would meet at a leadership convention - Gwilym is studying for a role, and you are studying for your seminar. You get paired together on the icebreaker activities and at first you’re both a bit shy - it’s hard to fuck up this bad in front of other people who are trying to be leaders. But on the final one, you really start to get comfortable with each other.

“I can’t believe we got the easiest exercise and we’re still managing to royally screw it up,” Gwilym laughed, glancing around the sidewalk just outside the convention center. You’d been tasked with going around and asking people on the sidewalk if they fit any of the traits listed on a piece of paper that you’d been provided. If they did, they had to sign it.

You were 10 minutes in to the 20 minute exercise - thus far, you’d only got about 2 signatures of the 15 you needed, and one of them was fraudulent.

“No joke,” you laughed, hopelessly staring down at the list for a moment before looking around at the dwindling crowd of people on the sidewalk. You’d hoped it would have been a bit more busy than this, but you’d already pestered these people that were lingering, and the others passed by without even so much as a glance. “Maybe this is a sign that we weren’t meant to be leaders.”

“Oh, don’t say that!” Gwilym replied cheerily, looking down at you with a smile and a glint in his eye. “This exercise is a load of rubbish anyways. I thought you were very leader-y when you convinced that man to sign the first line when he didn’t even like broccoli. You were very persuasive, if I do say so myself.” Giving you a impressed nod, he failed to fight back the growing smile at your amused hopelessness with the entire situation. He admired how you were able to give up when it was time and still laugh about it.

“Leader-y?” you asked teasingly, turning to glance up at him and laughing once before looking back out to the crowd again. He was an interesting sort, handsome and suave and seemingly so oblivious to those traits that he came off as a dorky, puppy dog type. “I don’t think that’s a word, Gwilym.”

“Oh? My mistake.” Crossing his arms, he kept watching you for a moment before a slow grin graced his lips, and you couldn’t help but gaze up at him curiously. Nodding out towards the street, he uncrossed his arms and held out one, offering it for you to take. 

You looked at him in disbelief, raising an eyebrow as your eyes flitted between his arm and the boyish twinkle in his eyes. “What are you up to?”

“C’mon, they won’t miss us if we grab a drink down the road, will they? I’m not usually one to skip things like these, but you’re really lovely... and I don’t really want to face our group leader when we come back with an empty page.”

Pressing your lips into a tight line, you tried to consider the ramifications. This wasn’t a university-issued leadership convention, just one that you’d picked up on a whim, but what would you miss out on by skipping? Valuable knowledge and insight?

Gwilym looked like he had a ton of that. He also looked super attractive, and how do you say no to a super attractive Welsh man asking you to grab a drink with him? All while calling you lovely?

“Lovely, you say?” Taking his arm, you took a deep, shaky breath before smiling slightly and shooting him a mildly chastising look that was immediately negated by your growing smile, matched only by his sheepish grin. “Maybe we’ll find someone who is a Sox fan.”

As he led you towards the pub he knew nearby, he launched into an animated conversation about his friend, Joe, who was most definitely not a Sox fan and lived in NYC.

You met Joe. Gwilym was not joking when he said he was not a Sox fan.

In fact, around half a year later, you were in that same pub in London, a sports bar that had begrudgingly agreed to change one of the TVs to a Sox-Yankee game for Joe, who was seated to your left. 

Gwilym, who was on your right, had brought you back to this bar once a month since you first ditched that convention. It was a cute little tradition that you enjoyed thoroughly - it reminded you of all the fun you’d had together since you met that giant of man all those months ago. 

But your favorite moments weren’t here with him - they were in the privacy of your own homes, curled up together watching some obscure film you both wanted to watch, or reading a book that Gwil had brought home from filming.

“I saw it in this cute little bookstore just off of their main street, and I thought of you immediately!”

Those private moments were the ones you enjoyed the most. That was where you felt secure, his arms wrapped around you as you both chatted on and on about your opinions of the film, his thumb brushing over your knuckles or his finger tucking a piece of hair away from your face. The displays of affection were much more plentiful there.

Right now, he had his right hand resting around the pint of beer in front of him, his left hand resting on the bar right next to your right hand, keeping distance while still managing to be intimate.

He was one and the same - PDA was not his favorite (it was a bit too ‘flashy’, in his opinion), so you both settled for very minute shows of affection. Gwilym’s hand brushed yours for just a moment, a gentle reminder he was there, and you glanced over at him with a smile before turning your attention back to Joe, who was in the middle of talking about some film he was working on when the Sox got a runner batted in.

“Anyways, I have to fly back- No, son of a bitch!” Dropping his head onto the bar, Joe cursed under his breath before hitting his forehead against it a few times, looking mildly pained while Gwil laughed at his antics.

“Mate, they’re just tied. There’s 2 innings left, tons could happen between now and then.”

“Let me mourn!” Joe replied dramatically, giving Gwilym a withering look before returning his attention to the TV screen, forgetting all about his conversation with you. So, you turned to Gwilym, resting your head on your hand and giggling softly.

“I think he’s upset.”

“Just a bit,” Gwilym replied, pinching his fingers together for emphasis, and you giggled again, shaking your head.

“It’s fun having him here for our little monthly date.”

“Fun is the word you’re choosing?” he teased gently, turning just slightly so that his knee bumped up against yours before he started to turn back and forth in the rotating barstool, looking lost in thought. “There are about 100 other words I would use to describe Joe being here right now, but I guess fun is one of them.

“Oh, we’ll have plenty of time together when he goes back to his hotel later,” you chastised softly before leaning over to gently bump him with your shoulder, an affectionate action that made Gwilym grin even wider as he, too, started to watch the Sox game with Joe. 

“Imagine what would happen if the Yankees lost.”

Joe interjected immediately. 

“I can hear you, you know!”

“Oops.

-

And for Queen, I ship you with Roger Taylor!

Hear me out!

Roger would be in your uni seminar. You’d be a tad bit older than him, a trait he found attractive. Older women were harder for him to flirt with - they were so secure in themselves that they didn’t quite fall for his boyish charms like younger women did. 

At first, he really would just try to send subtle flirtations your way when you were helping lead the seminar classes. A wink, a smile, maybe a note on an activity you had to grade.

“Name: Roger M Taylor. Date: absolutely, when and where? :)”

But your immunity to his work began to intrigue him. And he began to notice things about you that he enjoyed. You had a vast knowledge of films, including one of his recent watches, The Producers. When you mentioned it in class, he was troubled by your distaste for it.

In fact, he was so troubled by it that he showed up at your dorm later that night. 

He knew you were an RA on another floor in the building, and he made a point of coming down to your door to challenge your point of view on the movie. 

You were shocked to see one of your uni seminar students there, a freshman who you’d constantly shot down standing there in striped shirt and some jeans that honestly looked like they’d been slept in. Knowing his proclivity for occasional naps in class, though, you figured it extended outside of the classroom too.

“Why don’t you like The Producers?” he immediately asked, giving you no time to even greet him as you gazed at him, dumbfounded, from inside your dorm room.

He had a VHS copy of the movie in his hand, and he was waiting patiently for an answer, his long, dark hair mussy and falling around his face haphazardly as he shamelessly stared you down.

“Um, I- Hello, Roger?” you answered, though it came out as more of a question while you stepped outside of the door, letting it close behind you so he couldn’t see the mess you currently had folding laundry.

“Hi, Y/N. Why don’t you like The Producers?” he repeated, clearly not giving up.

“Well, it objectifies women,” you started, and Roger listened intently as you launched into a mini-tirade on the film’s casual homophobia and clear mistreatment of women. When you finally finished, Roger held up the copy and raised an eyebrow.

“Those are all good points. Can I tell you why I like it now?”

And he gave a multi-bullet speech on why he appreciated the film for its original content, non-reliance on shock value, and genius dialogue, which ended in the both of you going to watch it in your dorm so he could point out his favorite parts and you could simultaneously expose the flaws.

Later that night, you were left with a new appreciation for the genius of Mel Brooks, and Roger left with a better understanding of what could have been better. And he also left with your number, which he called frequently in the coming weeks, his words becoming increasingly affectionate. 

He went from greeting you as “Ms. Y/N” to “Lovie,” and you found that you didn’t mind the pet name. One thing you did put a ban on was PDA, and he was totally okay with that as long as he had his phone calls with you that probably racked up quite a bill but really didn’t bother either of you. 

When the semester was drawing to a wintery close, you found yourself on another late night phone call with him when he sprung an interesting proposition on you.

“Come back to Cornwall with me. Just for a couple days.”

“What?” you asked incredulously, surprised that he was that comfortable with you now. Sure, you’d went on a few dates and had met each other’s friends, but meeting his family? That was a big step. That was a girlfriend thing.

“I’m serious! I want you to meet my parents.”

You considered his words for a moment, finally dismissing it as just crazy talk. “Rog, I think you’re tired. We can talk about this after class tomorrow.”

“No, please hear me out-”

“Good night, Rog,” you cut in, Roger making an annoyed noise before sighing and reciprocating.

“Good night, lovie.”

And you hung up, thinking that was the end of it, but then you heard a knock on your door about 30 minutes later, just as you were about to fall asleep. 

Opening the door with a sleepy effort, you came face to face with Roger, who immediately made his way in and sat down in your desk chair, swiveling around to face you.

“Please come to Cornwall.”

You were still half-asleep, confused, and rubbed your eyes in disbelief. Were you dreaming?

The sound of the door jolted you awake a bit more, and you realized you were wide awake as you walked towards your bed, leaning against it and stifling a yawn. “Did you have to ask me this when I look like a sleepy mess?”

Roger was quiet for a moment, then he grinned. “Yes.”

You shot him a nasty look before hoisting yourself up to sit on the lifted dorm bed, slouching over a bit as you rubbed your face. Then, you sat up, leaning back a bit on your hands, and Roger came to stand in front of you, resting a hand on either side of your legs.

“Please? I want my parents to meet my lovely girl.”

“Girl? As in girlfriend?” you asked, in shock as you raised an eyebrow at the audacity. He’d never asked, and you’d never pushed. Shame overtook his face as he smiled sheepishly at you, shrugging a bit as he looked down nervously. 

“I just kind of assumed... It felt right. Will you? Be my girlfriend, I mean?”

Pursing your lips for a moment, you considered kicking him out. But the puppy dog eyes were relentless, and you couldn’t stay mad at him as you wrapped your arms around him, leaning forward and sighing. 

“Of course. As long as you promise not to tell professor. I might get in a little bit of trouble.”

“Oh, I’m telling her tomorrow. In fact, maybe I should call her right now!”

“Roger!”

[kevinclerk11-blog]

Celebrating New York City history at the Oscars: Julius Bar, Minetta Lane, Madison Square Garden

Films honored annually at the Academy Awards usually have a historical backdrop — lavish sets and period-accurate costumes plucked from the past. Most of the nominees for Best Picture this year take a time machine to a past generation.

The Favourite peers at the backroom (and bedroom) intrigues of Queen Anne. Roma dives into Mexico City in the early 1970s; BlacKKKlansman visits racial tensions in America during the same period. Even Vice is a period piece, satirizing the George W. Bush administration.

But many nominated films have another thematic connection — they set their unique stories within 20th century New York City history.

Here are my recommendations for a New York City history-themed Oscar film festival for you to enjoy before the awards are given out this Sunday, Feb. 24.

Richard E. Grant and Melissa McCarthy/Images courtesy Fox Searchlight

Can You Ever Forgive Me?

Nominated for: Best Actress (Melissa McCarthy), Best Supporting Actor (Richard E. Grant), Best Screenplay (Nicole Holofcener and Jeff Whitty)

What’s it about? A financially-strapped biographer begins forging documents written by famous people to pay the bills, helped by her flamboyant dandy of a friend.

The New York Connection: The film is set in the early 1990s and features an appropriately grimy city — and a thriving publishing industry!

Sites to look for: A great many classic New York bookstores — including Argosy, East Village Books and Housing Works in SoHo. But the most notable and central set is the front bar at Julius‘, New York’s oldest operating gay bar with an extraordinary history of its own.

Viggo Mortensen and Mahershala Ali/Image courtesy Universal Pictures

Green Book

Nominated for: Best Picture, Best Actor (Viggo Mortensen), Best Supporting Actor (Mahershala Ali), Best Original Screenplay (Nick Vallelonga, Brian Hayes Currie, Peter Farrelly), Best Editing

What’s it about? Tony Vallelonga, an Italian-American bouncer from the Bronx, chauffeurs African-American pianist Don Shirley through the Deep South on a concert tour.

The New York Connection: Vallelonga lives in the Bronx and works at the famed Copacabana nightclub. (I wrote about the film’s depiction of the club here.) Shirley has a lavish apartment above Carnegie Hall.

Sites to look for: There’s several beautiful depictions of street life in the Bronx in 1962. And there’s even an quick scene within Carnegie Hall’s main hall.

KiKi Layne and Stephan James, courtesy Annapurna Pictures

If Beale Street Could Talk

Nominated for: Best Supporting Actress (Regina King), Best Adapted Screenplay (Barry Jenkins), Best Original Score (Nicolas Britell)

What’s it about? Based on James Baldwin’s classic novel, the film follows the lives of two young lovers Tish (Kiki Layne) and Fonny (Stephan James) who are broken apart when Fonny is falsely accused of a crime.

The New York Connection: The film, set in the early 1970s, principally takes place in two neighborhoods — Harlem and the West Village — both beautifully recreated.

Sites to look for: The unforgettable shots of Minetta Lane, Washington Square Park, Bergdorf Goodman department store, Harlem’s Lenox Avenue and a beautiful brownstone at 52 Edgecombe Avenue.

Courtesy Field of Vision

A Night At the Garden

Nominated for: Best Documentary Short (directed by Marshall Curry, produced by Laura Poitras and Charlotte Cook with Field of Vision)

What’s it about? A reserved, make-your-own-conclusions look at the notorious 1939 pro-Nazi German American Bund rally in New York City.

The New York Connection: The rally of more than 20,000 members was held at Madison Square Garden — back when it was in Hell’s Kitchen.)

Sites to look for: The film features some footage of protests and riots from outside the Garden to give you some context as how the city reacted.

You can watch the documentary here.

Gwilym Lee and Rami Malek courtesy 20th Century Fox

Bohemian Rhapsody

Nominated for: Best Picture, Best Actor (Rami Malek), Best Editing, Best Sound Mixing, Best Sound Editing

What’s it about? The rise of rock supergroup Queen and the fascinating, troubled life of its lead singer Freddie Mercury.

The New York Connection: Not much! But there is a brief depiction of one of Queen’s late 1970s show. Their first appearance at MSG was on February 5, 1977. Here’s a video of one of their December 1977 shows at MSG:

Source: http://www.boweryboyshistory.com/2019/02/celebrating-new-york-city-history-at-the-oscars-julius-bar-minetta-lane-madison-square-garden.html

[borhap-au]

could you do like a gwilym lee x bookstore employee!reader?? idk this is just a cute concept :))) do what you like with this!! xx

Hey! Posted! Thanks for the request, I hope you’ll enjoy it ;) So so sorry for it taking me so long, but online college wasn’t too easy, and the exam session took forever to end. But I’m back.