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softspaceboibrian · 5 years

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Journeys End in Lovers Meeting (Chapter 1)

Pairing: Professor!Gwilym Lee x student!reader

Summary: Reader is a new student at Harvard University and, on her first day, she does something she might regret. Or maybe not.

Warnings: swearing

Wc: 2044

A/N: hey, guys, so, I've been working on this fic for a while now and I just decided to post it. please, let me know what you think! if you have suggestions or would like to be tagged in future chapters, let me know!

Other chapters: 2 - 3 - 4 - 5

Finding the class for the first lesson of the day was definitely not easy. It was your first day there, in the new University, and you got lost at least three times. Luckily, people where kind, maybe due to you foreign accent, or maybe for other reasons, who knew.

“Professor Lee? Oh, I see, you chose your courses carefully” told you your roommate the night before. Her name was Rose, charismatic, easy-going, determined, humorous, dark skin, black eyes, a little thick, but so confident that people didn’t even notice it. On the other hand, you was clumsy, introverted, anxious, quiet, shy, always so conscious about your aspect: the exact opposite.

“What do you mean by that?” you asked, confused by your friend’s statement.

“Well, you know, I have a few friends that followed his lessons and, apparently, he’s a really charming man. Many students fall for his looks” she explained, looking at you, sitting right across from you at your kitchen’s table. “but that is not the case for you. I mean, I’ve known you for only a couple months now, but I’ve got to know you pretty well and I can tell you’re not the kind of person that falls for a man just because he’s sexy.” That last comment made you blush.

In the end, after running from one side of the campus to the other because you had definitely entered the wrong building and turned in the wrong corridor, you found the classroom. And, as Rose warned you, the first two rows where already filled with girls wearing the most scandalous tops, bright red lipsticks, big lashes. With your simple jeans and old, oversized sweater, you walked to the side of the room, sitting alone with your notebook already opened in front of you. It was only a few minutes later when a tall, really tall guy walked in, making every girl in the front rows sigh in appreciation. So, that’s the professor, you thought to yourself. Isn’t he a little too young to be teaching at Harvard? For some strange reason you were expecting an old man with grey hair, old clothes and wrinkly hands, not someone like that.

A few minutes later the lesson started and, well, it was going great, until Mister Lee, that poor man, made that little mistake. And you, obviously, being the meticulous person you were, could not manage to keep your mouth shut: you had to correct him. The professor. On your first day of University. Great. Just great.

Actually,” You said without even waiting for him to give you permission to talk. When King Henry VI succeeded his father and became King of England, he was only nine months old, not ten. It was 1422.” You kept rambling on, everyone’s eyes, professor’s included, were on you. “And it was May 22nd of 1455 the day Richard of York marched against King Henry at St. Albans.” You didn’t mean to be impolite or anything, you just wanted to be precise. But the silence that followed was embarrassing to say the least. For the both of you.

“And you are?” asked the man, crossing his arms in front of his chest, a subtle smirk forming on his lips.

“Ehm... fuck” You whispered to yourself, before tell the man your name. The man kept his gaze on you for a little longer, before going back to his lesson. Yep, that was embarrassing.

Finally, the lesson was over. Not that it wasn’t interesting. On the contrary, it was probably the most interesting lesson you had ever attended, but having the professor gazing at you constantly was, well, awkward.

As soon as you were free to go, you collected your things, stuffing them in your bag as quickly as possible, hoping the professor would leave in the meantime. Obviously, he didn’t. So you quickly checked at the back of the room for a secondary exit, a door, a safe way to get out of there. But, sadly, there was only one way out and the professor was right next to it. He was still sitting at his desk, writing something on some papers. Good, you thought, that’s my chance to run out of here. If I do it quickly enough, he won’t see me. Well, you obviously didn’t think this through well enough.

“Miss” the professor called out your name right before you could step outside of the classroom. “May I have a word with you, alone? Maybe in my office?” Failure. The plan was a failure.

“I suppose” you murmured, adjusting your sweater and lowering your eyes, still too embarrassed to look at him.

“Don’t worry, it won’t take long.” He smiled, walking out of the room, making sure she was following him. They had to walk for about five minutes before arriving at his office, which wasn’t a lot given how much she had to walk that morning to reach the classroom, but it definitely seemed a lot more since they walked side by side, in silence, with the eyes of hundreds of students on them through the entire building. “So, you’re not from around here” he said while closing the door of the office behind you.

“Well, yes” Your voice was so soft that the words almost came out as a whisper. “But neither are you” What was he? Welsh? Yes, he definitely sounded Welsh.

Professor Lee grinned, apparently ignoring your comment, and walking over to his desk to lay his books on it, before turning around to face you. You were visibly scared, you were fidgeting with your necklace, eyes low on the carpet, as if you found more interesting the pattern of it rather than everything else. “Don’t worry, you’re not going to get scold off or anything for what you did” His voice was comforting, a gentle smile formed on his lips. “I was just curious. You seem to know a lot more about English literature than most of my students, even the older ones. Why didn’t you choose an advanced course? It would have probably been more interesting or fitted for a girl like you.” A girl like you? What kind of girl did he think you were? “Please, don’t tell me you’re one of those students that follow my classes just because they think I’m somewhat handsome.”

“No! Absolutely not!” You jumped up, finally looking at him. “Wait, no, I didn’t want to say that you are not… I mean, you are… But… oh, fuck…” You ended up murmuring to yourself, sitting on a chair and putting your hands in your hair. You were messing up big time, that’s for sure.

All you could hear afterwards was the professor trying hard not to laugh. “Don’t worry, I get it. You didn’t choose this course because of me.” He giggled. “And I’m kind of relieved to hear that”

“I didn’t even know what you looked like before you walked inside the classroom.” You smiled at the man, brushing your hair out of your face, tucking the strands behind your ear.

“Well, that’s good because, otherwise, it would have been weird for us to work together if you had a crush on me, since I asked you if we could talk so that I could offer you the position of teacher assistant. My assistant.”

Those words came as a surprise to you. It was your first day there and a professor was already offering you the role of his assistant. “Wow…” That was the only thing you managed to say. What should one say?

“You obviously don’t have to answer me right away”

“I accept” you interrupted him, leaving him speechless, in a positive way. He saw something in you, something interesting. “I only have one question: precisely, what does an assistant do?”

“Don’t worry” He smiled. “It won’t be anything too hard or demanding. You will meet me here in my office every morning before the beginning of the lessons. You will have to skip some of your other classes if your assistance is required, but don’t worry, you will be excused from them. You will have like a special permit.” He winked, making you laugh. It was the kind of laugh that echoes in a room, contagious, the kind of laugh that most people would try to hide, but you didn’t. And he liked it.

“That is fine by me. My only problem is that I share my car with my flat mate. Well, actually the car’s hers and she uses it every morning to go to work, which is on the other side of town. So, hopefully, if the bus isn’t running late, I will be able to get here half an hour before the beginning of classes. If not, I will get here only ten minutes before the bell rings and I really hope that is not a problem for you, Professor Lee.” You quickly explained.

“Call me Gwilym.” He smiled” We’re going to work together, after all.” He was sitting on his desk, the blazer, being the perfect fit, was tight enough around his arms to enhance his built. “Anyway, that is definitely not a problem. I could give you my number and, if you need anything, you’re running late or something else, you could just send me a message.”

You nodded, a little smile making its way on your face, your cheeks turning slightly pinkish, given that you had found yourself staring at him for a bit too long. But he didn’t seem to notice, or at least, he didn’t seem to mind. You spent the rest of the time laughing, talking about why you chose that University and those courses and why he decided to become an English literature professor, getting to know each other. The next time you checked the time, it was time for you to go home. “If you don’t have anything for me to do today, I think I should probably get going. There’s a bus coming in 10 minutes, and if I miss it, I will have to wait at least 40 minutes before another one comes.”

“Sure, you can go.” Said the man while brushing his dark brown hair out of his face, before standing up and picking up his stuff. “I should go home myself.” He smiled, walking beside you outside the office. “I guess I’ll see you here tomorrow.”

You nodded, adjusting your messenger bag on your shoulder, smiling one last time towards the man, with a soft “Bye, Professor Lee”, before turning around and starting to walk towards your destination.

Well, as everyone surely knows, Murphy’s Law says that, in any field of endeavour, anything that can go wrong, will go wrong: that was exactly what happened that afternoon. First of all, the bus you had to take changed the route because of an accident, so it wasn’t going to stop in front of your building, meaning that, if you wanted to take that one, you had to run to the other side of the campus, which would have taken you at least twenty minutes. Secondly, that morning you must have forgotten your keys at home because you couldn’t find them anywhere inside your bag. Furthermore, you didn’t have enough money to get a cab and your flatmate was still working, so she couldn’t come and pick you up. Last but not least, it began to rain. And, guess what, you didn’t have an umbrella. Why would you? That morning the sky was so clear that you almost thought it was still the middle of summer. But no.

At that point, you decided to start walking, you would find a café or a bookshop, go inside and wait for Rose to finish working, so she could come and pick you up. That sounded like a great plan, but something happened. You had been walking for only a couple minutes, when a shiny black Audi Q5 pulled up in the side of the road, right next to you. Accustomed to hearing all these sad stories about girls being picked up on the side of the road by strangers and then their corpse being found somewhere outside town a few weeks afterwards, you immediately started walking faster, fearing that something similar might happen to you too. What surprised you was to hear a familiar voice call out for your name. You stopped and looked inside the car: Professor Gwilym Lee.

#gwilym lee #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee x you #professor!gwilym lee #professor gwilym lee #journeys end in lovers meeting #jeilm #softspaceboibrian writings

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palerosetumbles · 6 years

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COMING IN CLUTCH WITH THAT SWEET MONDAY UPDATE

#jeilm #tododeku #tododeku fanfiction #tododeku fic #tododeku fics #tododeku fanfic #journeys end in lovers meeting #Journeys End

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softspaceboibrian · 5 years

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Journeys End in Lovers Meeting (Chapter 5)

Pairing: Professor Gwilym Lee x student reader

Summary: Reader is a new student at Harvard University and, on her first day, she does something she might regret. Or maybe not.

Warnings: fluff, like so much fluff

Wc: 3081

A/N: once again, I'm sorry for not being active! uni is driving me crazy and I'm trying my best to upload, but I obviously cannot do it everyday... anyway, enjoy the new chapter! please, remember to reblog and comment, I love it when I find nice comments from all of you!

Previous Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4

Taglist: @tegan-eva @kerouacsroad (if you would like to be tagged in future ones, just ask)

Now you were sitting at the table in Gwilym’s kitchen, waiting for the cookies to be ready, while reading an old book. You hadn’t been doing much in the last few days, you had probably seen pretty much every single Christmas movie available on Netflix, you had listened to the entire Michael Bublé’s Christmas album at least 14 times, you had even put up a little Christmas tree, just to make the house look a little more festive, and helped Gwilym with his own tree. It was Christmas day and Gwilym was supposed to pick you up at 6, but, since neither of you had nothing to do, he picked you up earlier, so that you could spend more time together.

“They smell so good” he smiled, immediately trying to steal a cookie. You covered the tray as fast as you could, reminding him that they had to rest before he could actually eat them. “But, please! Just one” He pouted, hoping that it would make you give in and give him one.

“Gwil, I know you pretty well by now, and I know that you will ask to eat one and you will end up eating most of them.” You chuckled, winking at him, while closing the oven door with your hip.

He rolled his eyes, laughing softly. “Remind me again what their name is”

“Pepperkaker. They are Norwegian cookies with cinnamon, ginger and cloves” You replied, a gentle smile on your lips while you sat next to him, the book you were previously reading still open on the table. “I used to make them with my mama every Christmas Eve and then we would eat them in front of the TV while watching Love Actually”

You never really talked about your past with anyone, but with him it was different, everything just came naturally. And he appreciated it. He understood with time that the taboo subject was your father, which he never dared to ask you anything about, fearing you might get upset, and close yourself up. That was far more than enough. “Well, I’m sure my mama is going to love them.”

“I hope so” You replied, your usual genuine smile, a soft reddish blush on your cheeks, both due to the high temperature in the room and the way he looked at you. He couldn’t help it but stare at you in awe; he had often read in books how people describe a man looking a woman as if she was the sun, but that wasn’t him. He never really looked at the sun except in frustration. Maybe he basked in its warmth, but he never really complained when it was gone. He never looked at it until it was leaving, admiring the beauty of the sunset. That wasn’t the case: Gwilym looked at you like you were the moon, he looked at you in wonder and love and amazement, he admired you, and he knew a part of you was always hidden away, but that didn’t scare him off.

“Is something wrong?” You asked, your own face burning hot.

“Why?”

“I don’t know, you’re staring at me”

He shook his head, a soft smile on his face. “I was just think that you look really good” He wheedled, tilting his head to the side, placing his cheek on the palm of his hand. You were wearing a red, blue and green tartan skirt, with a black turtleneck sweater tucked in, and black platform shoes. Definitely nothing too formal, but still nice. You still wanted to impress Gwilym’s mother. Not that you had a reason to, but it was the least. After all you were going join their “family dinner”. “Maybe we should get started. My mom is going to be here in less than an hour and we still need to set the table.”

Not even half an hour later, everything was ready. The two of you had been laying on the couch for a while now, the TV was off and no music was playing. It was just the two of you laughing, telling each other embarrassing stories from the past. But you couldn’t stop noticing how good Gwilym looked that night. His hair was a little longer now, since he hadn’t got a cut in a while. But even that messy look suited him. You were just now realising how it made his eyes pop – as an expert would say. “You look nice with your hair like this” You admitted, not knowing where you had found all that courage to pronounce those words. And you could see that he was trying to cover the fact that his cheeks were warming up a little, but then the doorbell rang, and he had to get up. When he opened the door, a beautiful woman walked in. She had Gwilym’s eyes, but she was smaller.

“Hi, my dear” She greeted him, her voice was so soft, she spoke with that gentle tone any mom would used after seeing their child after a long time, no matter how old their child was now.

“Hi, mom” He replied, leaving a quick kiss on her cheek, immediately helping her with all the bags she had. She really did prepare enough food for an entire army. At that point, you stood up from the couch and walked towards the woman that was still talking with her son, whom had to stop her to introduce you to her. “Mama, she is our guest. I talked to you about her, do you remember?”

The woman quickly glanced at you, studying your figure, smiling only after a few seconds. “Yes, yes, I do remember her. She’s the girl that works with you. – she spoke with a strong Welsh accent – She’s younger than I expected.”

“Well, I’m a stu-” You were trying to explain to the woman the fact that you were that young because you were only a student, but Gwilym cut you off by coughing and catching his mother attention. Didn’t he tell her that you were his student other than his assistant?

“Is there anything that we need to warm up, mom?”

“Oh, yes, dear, in here – she moved quickly, taking the dishes out of the bags, and putting them on the kitchen counter – what’s this smell?”

“Y/N made Norwegian biscuits! They smell amazing!”

“Well, then I can’t wait to taste them” The Woman smiled towards you. You had just met the woman, but you already loved her. She reminded you of your own mother, in a way. The rest of the evening was spent like so, the woman would ask questions about her son’s work, how he treated you, whether he was good to you or not. Every once in a while, you would look over to your left just to catch the man already with his eyes on your small figure, always ready to smile, to reassure you. For once, after a long time, you felt accepted, you didn’t feel like a weight, or anything. You knew you could be yourself around the man, and he would never criticize you, at least not with bad intension. He had too big of a heart to even think of hurting a fly, let alone you. And, even though he would never admit it to himself, and neither would you, the woman sitting at that table with the two of you could see how you both cared for each other, how much her own son was concerned with you feeling comfortable, feeling good. She had never seen him this happy, not in a long time at least. And that filled her heart with so much joy.

The hours went by and the woman decided it was probably time for her to go back home and rest. Or, at least, that was what she told you while putting on her coat. She told you how happy she was to have finally been able to meet the girl her son couldn’t stop talking about every time he called her, immediately noticing how quickly your cheeks turned red. At that point she was ready to go. “Bye, mama. Drive carefully. Text me once you’re home” said the man, before quickly kissing her cheek. And he was going to get away, knowing how mushy she can be when saying goodbye. But he felt her hand on his shoulder, as if she was trying to prevent him from running away.

“Dear, treat her well. She’s a good girl and I can see you care for her.” Her voice was soft, caring, loving. She really did want to see her own son this happy more often.

He tried to hide the blush on his face, but his mother knew him too well. “I will, mama. I will.”

“I have no doubt about that” she said, before kissing him once again on his forehead, before turning around and walking out of the house. You were standing only a few feet behind the man, and you did obviously hear everything but, once he turned around to face you, you acted as if you didn’t notice the small trace of blush left on his cheeks.

A few minutes later the kitchen and table were clean, and you two were finally relaxing, the man sitting on one end of the sofa, you occupying the rest of it. “I have something for you. I was just waiting for the right moment to give it to you” you said, stretching out a little bit towards your bag, which was lying on the floor right next to where you were sitting. You took out the present, wrapped with a newspaper page. “I’m sorry, I didn’t have wrapping at home” you giggled while handing it to the man. He didn’t expect you to get him a gift, and that surprised him, in a good way. “It’s nothing, really. I know for sure you already have it, but when I saw it, I immediately thought of you.” Your eyes were fixed on his face, waiting to detect any kind of reaction. It was really a simple present, but you still wanted to make sure he liked it. When he opened it and read the title, his lips curled up in a little smile, a genuine one, which made you feel as if your stomach was all tied in knots. But then he turned around to face you, his lips immediately reaching for your forehead to leave a soft, slow kiss there.

“Thank you” he breathed, losing himself in your eyes for a few, quick seconds, before turning around and reaching for the drawer on the side table, opening it and taking out a present neatly wrapped in a lovely green wrapping with Santa Claus and other typical Christmas images. “This one is for you. I was going to leave it on your desk once we got back to University, without a note or anything, almost like a secret Santa, but this moment is probably a lot more adequate.” You looked at him, you eyes full of surprise. You didn’t even feel like you deserved it. “Go on, open it. I’m anxious. I need to know if you like it” He giggled, bopping your nose with his finger. You nodded, moving your eyes from his face to the present in your hands, which you started to carefully unwrap, making sure not to tear the paper. As soon as your eyes were able to read the title, a sincere smile made its way on your face. It was probably the biggest smile Gwilym had ever seen on you, and he loved to think he was the reason behind it. “I know Keats is your favourite poet ever. And when I saw you looking at this collection of all his poems and compositions online, I knew I had to get it for you.” Suddenly, your arms were wrapped around his neck, a simple, whispered thank you. He gently placed his hands on your back, pulling you onto his lap, his lips getting in contact once again with your forehead, leaving another soft kiss on it. As soon as he felt you moving, he held on tight to you, saying into your ear “Wait, don’t pull away… Not yet. I like to have you this close”. Those words made your heart beat even faster than it was already doing, her cheeks turning crimson. It was the closest thing to admitting his own feelings for you he had ever said. And you loved it.

The silence that followed was far from uncomfortable. It was filled with your heartbeat echoing in your ears, the sound of the man leaving soft kisses on the your temple. You closed your eyes, your head on his shoulder, while his fingers gently traced lines on your back. You could definitely fall asleep right there, in that position, cradled by the man’s attention. “Do you think I could stay here tonight?” You mumbled, looking up, receiving a simple nod in response.

“You can take some of my clothes, you know where to find them” he added after a few more seconds of silence, letting you get up, following your small figure with his eyes, till you disappeared into his bedroom. He had loved having you over since the first night you fell asleep at his apartment. That first time wasn’t on purpose, but as the months went on, he would put on a movie really late at night just to be able to have you over for the night, spend as much time together as you could. He loved seeing you first thing in the morning, with messy hair, the blanket he had covered you with the night before wrapped around you small body, asking for a hot cup of tea with cookies. After a while, things started to change, you would ask him to stay at your place whenever Rose was out of town or simply staying at her friend’s house; or he would tell you that you could sleep at his place if you were going to work late. And in those cases, he would often give you a hoodie or one of his sweatshirts, loving the way they smelled the morning after. Little did he know you too loved being able to wear his clothes, mainly for the smell. Lately you had often found yourself recognising that smell as something safe, warm, home.

He got lost in those thoughts, and when he finally came back to reality, the door of the room was open, the warm light of the lamp on the nightstand washed everything out. He stopped at the door, his shoulder against the door frame, looking at the girl who was lying on the bed, now with his clothes on, clothes that were definitely too big for her, but he didn’t really cared much about it. And neither did you. “Are you tired?” the man asked after a few moments, finally walking towards the bed to lay next to you.

You opened your eyes, which you had kept close, but something told you that he was there, meeting his gaze and blushing. “Not really, I’m just not used to eat this much anymore” you giggled, hiding behind your hand and the few strands of hair that had fallen in front of your face. He didn’t comment, he just raised his hand to move the hair from in front of your face, meeting once again your eyes, almost as if he could not look at anything else. You just spent what seemed both an eternity and a quick second in silence, looking each other in the eyes, wanting to say so many things, but still not wanting to ruin the moment. Looking at him, you realized you knew a million little things about him. But, most of all, you knew that he was all you wanted in your life in that moment. You wanted to be around him, you wanted to go places with him, you wanted to do everything as long as you had him by your side. And maybe Rose was right, you did have feelings for him, maybe even more. You were just too scared to admit it to yourself. To scared of the consequences, too scared of not being enough, of him not feeling the same. But whenever you looked at him, you could almost read it in his eyes, or at least you believed. And that was probably why you did it. You did the simplest thing. You leaned over and kissed him. And the world cracked open. All the million things you thought you knew disappeared from your mind; when your lips met for the first time you couldn’t even remember your own name. You were told to expect fireworks, but his lips set your whole heart on fire. His hand slowly moved to your back, gently pulling you to himself, while holding the sweatshirt you were wearing in a fist, almost as if he didn’t want to let you go, too scared that, if he did, you might slip away from him. After a few moments, you pulled away, both gasping for air. No one said nothing, not yet. You just enjoyed the music of their heavy breaths, his forehead against yours. It didn’t take long for him to press his lips once again against yours, making your heart beat like crazy. When you kissed him the first time, he felt as if he were losing his mind. When you kissed twice, he wasn’t even sure if he wanted his sanity back.

The rest of the night was spent like that, with your back against his chest, his arms holding you tight, while whispering random thing in the soft light coming from the nightstand’s lamp, giggling at each other’s jokes. The feeling of being curled up in Gwilym’s arms with your fingers intertwined and the soft feeling of his breath on your exposed neck could never be put into words. You could, however, say for sure that it was where you belonged, and it was in those arms that you felt at home. Often, you had pictured the two of you holding hands and watching movies, sitting on benches beneath old oak trees, hearing his breath and catching his smile when he thought you couldn’t see. And all you could do was hope that, when he closed his eyes, his mind would be filled with thoughts of you. But now everything was slowly changing, becoming everyday more real.

#gwilym lee #gwilym lee x reader #professor gwilym lee #gwilym lee x you #professor!gwilym lee #journeys end in lovers meeting #jeilm #softspaceboibrian writings #softspaceboibrian

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softspaceboibrian · 5 years

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Journeys End in Lovers Meeting (Chapter 4)

Pairing: Professor Gwilym Lee x student reader

Summary: Reader is a new student at Harvard University and, on her first day, she does something she might regret. Or maybe not.

Warnings: none

Wc: 2035

A/N: sorry for being inactive, not posting anything. it's just that I'm so busy with uni and exams (reason why I won't be too active in the next month or so). anyway, here's the new chapter! hope you like it!! remember to reblog and leave your comments, so I know what you think!!!

Previous Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 5

Taglist: @tegan-eva @kerouacsroad

“The play was really good, don’t you think?” Gwilym said with a smile, while walking out of the theatre, hands in the pockets of his jacket.

You finished closing your jacket while walking behind him, trying to protect yourself from the cold of your first American winter. “Yes, the actors were amazing, and I loved how they kept the original English rather than making it more modern.”

He was going to add something, but immediately noticed how much you were shivering because of the cold. “Do you want to grab something to eat? There was that diner you saw a few blocks back. You seemed to like it.” He smiled gently, taking a step closer to you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders, trying to warm you up a little.

And you actually did appreciate the warmth the man irradiated from his body, instantly getting closer to him, forgetting for even just a second the fact that you were supposed to be his student. In that moment, you were just friends, which, in a way, you really were. “Yes, please, let’s do it”. You were freezing, obviously you were. Geographically speaking, Cambridge, Massachusetts, was supposed to be somewhat warmer than good, old London’s freezing winter. At least that was what you thought since, by looking at a world map, you thought Massachusetts was a little more south than England. But, again, you knew next to nothing about anything regarding science.

You walked down the sidewalk together, actually appreciating the evening – yes, the cold too -, talking about the play and how you liked it, which was each other’s favourite scene, and all those things Shakespeare’s lovers discuss about. But, finally, a few minutes later, you got to the little diner. As soon as you walked in, your eyes started to move from side to side, admiring every single detail of that place, which looked as if it was from another era: it was just like those old movies you used to watch with your mother, like Grease or Back to the Future, with a black and white checked floor, with individual booths, leather-covered benches and stools, those big led signs, and, obviously, a jukebox. “This place is wonderful” You breathed, astonished by that place.

He just smiled, walking towards a booth and waiting for you to join him. “I thought you were more a 20s kind of girl – he grinned, looking at you – you know, dry cocktails, curtains blowing in the wind, Zelda Sayre Fitzgerald.”

“Oh goof (sweetie), it was cat’s pyjamas (awesome, the best) back then, but you know, this place is swell (cool)” you giggled, while sitting in front of him, finally laying your eyes on him, an amused grin on Gwilym’s face.

“So, you know the 20s slang. I see” He tilted his head to side. “And tell me, doll, would you mind ordering something to chew (eat)?”

You laughed, definitely not expecting him to know 20s slang too. It was already crazy for one person of your age to use a slang that was used almost a century before, let alone two. “Absolutely”

“That was delicious” You marvelled, right before taking the last sip of your vanilla and mint milkshake. You were ecstatic, and Gwilym noticed it. He had never seen you this happy, and he had known you for four months at that point. Your smile was pure, with the angles of your mouth so far back and up that it almost took up most of your face. Your eyes shone so bright. And those dimples, which he had only recently noticed, those were so accentuated.

“Do you want to play a song?” He asked, giving you a coin and nodding towards the jukebox right behind your table. He didn’t need to ask you a second time, you had already taken that coin and got up, your eyes already scrolling through the long list of songs. He was looking at you, noticing how your eyes were unable to keep still, they were lively and quick, never fixed on one thing for too long, probably to keep up with your always working mind. And you were beautiful.

“Hope you know this song, because we’re dancing” You broke the silence, immediately running to him and grabbing his hand, trying to make him stand up.

“What? Wait, love, I don’t… I don’t dance” He shook his head, laughing, trying to sound as nice as possible.

At those words, you stopped, pouting. “Please, just one song” And looking at you like that made it even harder for him to say no a second time. “Pretty please! I love this song!”

He stayed in silence for a few second, before getting up, finally giving him. He couldn’t definitely dance, that’s for sure, but he just couldn’t stay there and not do anything, not when you were that happy just a few seconds before. “You will have to guide me through this because, honey, I’m not joking when I’m telling you that I cannot dance” He giggled, squeezing your hand a little bit before actually pulling you closer. At those words, your face immediately lit up.

In that moment, if someone saw the two of you like that, jumping around, Gwilym holding you close to him in that way, that someone would have probably thought that you were friends, or maybe something more, definitely not a student with her professor. And neither one of you felt that way. Everyone could read in Gwilym’s eyes how much he cared for you, but even how hard he was trying to not fall for you. Whereas you, you would never admit your feelings to anyone, but Rose already knew it. You definitely were head over heels for him, but at the same time you were too scared to admit to yourself that you actually had feelings for him. Every time Rose would ask you whether you liked Gwilym or not, you would immediately start nervously laughing, looking away, your cheeks would turn red and you would say things like “What? Him? But he’s my professor!” or “What are you saying? No!”, but your body was surely saying something totally different.

A few minutes later the song was over, and you were sitting again one in front of the other, trying to catch your breaths. “So, are you going back to your hometown for the winter break?” Gwilym asked, his back against the seatback.

In a matter of time, your smile faded away, which was quickly replace by a cold, distant expression. “No, I think I’m staying here” you mumbled, crossing your legs on the bench.

“I see… - he nodded, not getting why your mood changed so quickly after that question – are you celebrating Christmas with Rose then?”

“No, she’s going back to Illinois to her family. She asked me to go with her, but I didn’t feel like it. I will just stay home, watch some old Christmas movie, make cookies and hot chocolate. Maybe I’ll visit a couple of museums.” You explained, your eyes low on the empty glass that was once filled with delicious milkshake, absent-mindedly playing with the straw.

He hated seeing you like that. It wasn’t the first time he had seen you this sad, and it was probably for the same reason, which you never wanted to explain to him. You would always try and hide it behind a fake smile or simply a cup of tea. But that time, it was different. He had said something that made you feel that way, and he couldn’t stand it. “You can come over to my place for Christmas.” He said, trying to catch your attention, wanting to look you in the eyes. “My mom is going to be there and she’s definitely going to prepare too much food for just the two of us.” He laughed a little bit nervously, really hoping you would say yes. “Furthermore, I don’t want you to spend Christmas day alone. That would be really sad. Unless you’re old and grumpy and your name is Ebenezer Scrooge”

Finally, you cracked a smile. He knew it wasn’t a happy one, or at least not as happy as it would have been a few minutes before, but he made you smile, and that was already far more than enough. “I don’t know, Gwilym, I don’t want to-”

“Humbug!” He talked like an old man would, obviously trying to imitate the A Christmas Carol’s character. He new you loved that story, and he thought that it was definitely the right way to cheer you up. “Come on! I’ll come and pick you up, so you can help me set the table and then we’ll just wait for my mom to arrive while watching a movie.”

“Okay, but only if I can bring the dessert”

“You can do whatever you want, love” he smiled, happy to see you do the same.

The days went by quickly after that night, lessons finished, winter break started, Rose left and so did almost half of Cambridge’s population, because, apparently, most of the people living in that town were Harvard students. Walking downtown those days was both relaxing and melancholic, cafés were almost empty, shops played those old Christmas songs for the few people that came in to buy the last presents. It had even snowed for a couple of days, and now the streets and the sidewalks were covered in white, soft snow, which seemed to be asking to be picked up and thrown at people. But you had no one. Not that you minded being alone that much. you appreciated being able to walk alone, without worrying about what time you had to be back home for dinner, being able to walk out of the bathroom in your underwear after having taken the longest shower ever, without risking to find an unexpected guest. You had even found the time to get Gwilym a small present. It was nothing too special or expensive, just a little something to thank him for everything he had being doing for you since the first day. You were walking down a street, not really looking for something in particular, just enjoying your alone time, soft music coming out of each shop; then your attention got caught by an old bookshop just across the street. Curiosity drove you inside the store, where you immediately recognised the familiar smell of paperbacks, old newspapers, and you knew that was going to be your new favourite shop. You walked through the aisle, scrolling with your eyes through the titles, spending a little more time in the classics section. It didn’t take you long to sit yourself down on the ground, in the middle of the aisle, your back against the bookshelf, with books scattered all around you, trying to decide which one you should get yourself as Christmas present, not really thinking about anything else.

“Can I help you, dear?” A voice asked, which made you look up. In front of you there was a lady around her sixties, with grey hair neatly pulled up into a perfect bun, as if she was one of those ballerinas ready to go on stage for their performance.

“I was just looking for a book” You smiled back, getting up and noticing how small the woman actually was.

She turned around and reached for a book, handing it to the young lady in front of her, a gentle expression on her face. “Have you ever read this one?”

You took the book from the woman’s hands and read the title: The Call of the Wild by Jack London. “Yes, I know this book.” Of course you did, just as you knew it was one of Gwilym’s favourite books. You remembered how happy he got every time he told you about his mother reading him that book every night before going to sleep when he was 10. “I think this is the book I was looking for”

“Is it a present?”

“Yes” Your plan of getting a book for yourself just vanished from your mind, all you could think now was how Gwilym might react to you giving him that book.

“Someone special, darling?”

“I think so”

#journeys end in lovers meeting #jeilm #gwilym lee x reader #professor!gwilym lee #professor x student #softspaceboibrian writings #softspaceboibrian #professor gwilym lee #gwilym lee x you #gwilym lee

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softspaceboibrian · 5 years

Text

Journeys End in Lovers Meeting (Chapter 2)

Pairing: Professor!Gwilym Lee x reader

Summary: Reader is a new student at Harvard University and, on her first day, she does something she might regret. Or maybe not.

Warnings: none

Wc: 2700

A/N: okay, so, not as many people as I thought read the first chapter, which is sad since I thought it was good. but yeah, I'll keep posting it anyway and, hopefully, it will gain readers with time

Other chapters: 1 - 3 - 4 - 5

“Gosh, you’re soaking wet… get inside the car” He sounded worried and confused. You didn’t let him beg for you to actually do it. You didn’t know why, but you trusted him enough to get instantly inside his car, even though you had known him for, what? Less than a day? “What happened to you? I thought you were going to go home by bus.”

“Well, the bus didn’t come, I don’t have money for a cab, my flat mate is still working, I don’t know if I left my keys at home or if I lost them. Oh, and it started raining.” You explained without managing to look him in the eyes. You were embarrassed because of all that happened to you in less than ten minutes.

“You can stay at my place till your friend gets home.” His voice was soft, his smile sincere.

“Oh, no. Don’t worry. You can just drop me off at the library or, I don’t know, a café. I really don’t mean to bother you.” You started rumbling on, really not wanting to be a weight for him.

“You are not bothering me. I live alone with my dog, and she loves people. You’re more than welcome, trust me.” He smiled gently, before starting the car. Apparently, you didn’t have much of a say in it. He just decided that you were going home with him and, for some reason, that didn’t bother you, at all. The drive wasn’t long and surely a lot less embarrassing than the walk they had together to get to his office a few hours before. It was filled with funny comments and stories of embarrassing students hitting in him during lesson or trying to kiss him during office hours. After fifteen minutes or so, the car stopped in front of a beautiful townhouse, which reminded you of London.

“Make yourself at home” said the man while letting you in. The house smelled of cinnamon, books, coffee and cranberry. You looked around, noticing that that place looked exactly how you expected the house of an English literature professor to look like: books everywhere, papers full of notes and stains of coffee, tons of used notebooks, numerous bookshelves filled with every kind of book you could ever think of, the desk and the coffee table submerged with papers and, yes, you guessed it, more books. “I’m really sorry for the mess, we were obviously not expecting any visit anytime soon.” He laughed. The way he talked about himself and his dog warmed your heart.

“Don’t worry, my home is a lot worse. I mean, two girls leaving all by themselves, without any parent to remind them to tidy up the room. I think you can imagine how that looks like.” You giggled, putting your bag down and taking off your shoes. Immediately afterward, you felt something touching your leg and, when you turned around, you saw a furry ball sitting right in front of you, with two beautiful blue eyes, and a ball in her mouth.

“Lady, don’t bother our guest” Said the man, getting closer to them, probably to take the dog away. But you got down on your knees, petting the dog before taking the toy from her mouth.

“Lady, that’s a beautiful name” You commented, starting to play with her, throwing the toy and waiting for the dog to bring it back to you.

The man didn’t answer. He just smiled and disappeared in a room, coming out of it a few minutes later in some more comfortable clothes. “You’re still wet, maybe you want to take a shower and change into some warm, clean clothes.” His voice was so gentle it almost gave you shivers.

“Ehm… yes, thank you. If that not a problem with you.” You got up from the floor, leaving Lady alone and walking towards him.

Twenty minutes later you walked into the kitchen wearing warm clothes that were definitely too big for you, your hair had been pulled up in a messy bun, but at least you were no longer soaking wet because of the rain. The kitchen smelled even more of coffee than the living room did, inviting you to get inside and take a seat at the table where the Professor was working. The last thing you wanted to do was to disturb him. But as soon as you sat down, he looked up from the laptop, laying his eyes on you, that soft smile that showed the little wrinkles around his eyes made its way on his face, making you blush for no particular reason. “How are you feeling?”

“Better, thank you.” You smiled, lowering your gaze on the table, while you started fidgeting with your hands.

“Would you like a cup of coffee?”

“I actually prefer tea”

“Black?”

“Yes, please”

“Coming” He winked, going immediately to the stove to prepare you tea. It amazed you how different he looked there, at home, where no one could see him, where he simply was Gwilym, the nice guy next door with an adorable puppy and amazing taste in books. “I’m working on an article.” He said breaking the silence. “I write for an online newspaper. I take care of the literature section. I review new books, I write about recently deceased authors, but this kind of article I’m working on right now is by far my favourite: I have to work on a theme, analyse it through different works, authors, countries, genres.”

“And what is the theme of this article in particular?” You asked, being sincerely curious.

“Don John. You know, the famous Spanish womanizer.” He turned around, arms crossed in front of his chest. “I started by analysing the first drama ever written about him, then I compared it to the Romantic version. Then, I talked about Mozart’s and Byron’s plays and Kierkegaard’s theory of the three phases of life.” He explained with a proud grin on his lips, until he got unexpectedly cut off.

“Did you consider writing about Wilde’s Dorian Gray as modern Don John?” You asked, tilting your head to the side, laying your cheek on the palm of your hand.

He looked at you speechless. “No, I did not…” You had surprised him, positively surprised him.

“Well, you see, they are more alike than one would ever imagine: they both care about appearance more than everything, they like to seduce people – here’s the first difference, Dorian seduces not only women, but also men. Then, for example, look at the characters and the object: Sybil is Doña Ines, Sybil’s brother is Don Gonzalo, the picture is the statue. Easy.” He was amazed by the girl in front of him and her knowledge. “Why modern, you might ask. Well, you see, when the story was first written, it was set in Seville, Spain, one of the most glorious reigns of those times. When Wilde wrote The Picture of Dorian Gray, England was the most powerful country in the world and geographically the centre of the world. Don John used to go out drinking, Dorian is known for using drugs, such as opium.” You kept rambling on for several minutes, stopping only to thank the man for the tea.

When you finished presenting your theory, Gwilym remained silent for a couple more moments, still astonished by your intelligence. “You know Spanish literature too?”

“And Anglo-American, German, Italian, Scandinavian and a little French and Russian.” You replied, right before taking a sip of your no-longer-too-hot tea.

“You will never stop to surprise me, won’t you?”

You giggled, hiding your now rosy cheeks behind the mug, not really knowing what to answer. “You can use my idea, if you want.”

He sat down across from you, setting his mug down on the table right on a small pile of papers. That’s why there's stains pretty much on each paper on his house. “You should write for a blog or a magazine yourself.” His voice was gentle, just as his smile.

“Oh no, writing articles isn’t my thing. I’m more into poetry and novels.” You shook your head, crossing your legs on the chair. “But, I’m serious, use it. If your readers find it interesting, all you need to do is thank me.” You giggled, putting down the mug on the table.

But, at that point, the article was long forgotten, the laptop went on standby mode. “Are you staying over for dinner?”

The next day you woke up at the sound of your alarm going off. You reached for the phone, without finding it. It must have fallen from the nightstand or something, or at least that was what you thought. When you finally managed to open your eyes, the view of a room you had never seen before appeared in front of you, leaving you perplexed. You finally found her phone, which was on the nightstand, charging. A just not your nightstand. It was only when you read Rose’s text messages that it all hit you.

[9:47 pm] Honey, I’m so sorry if I didn’t answer. I was still working. Hope you’re fine.

[9:48 pm] Oh, I see, you’re with Prof Charming.

[10:14 pm] Yes, your keys are home. I’ll leave the spare one under the mat outside the door.

[6:45 am] You’re not home? Are you already out or did you sleep at your teacher house?

[7:01 am] I’m actually a little worried. Text me asap, so I know that you’re okay.

You unlocked you phone and immediately responded Rose’s messages. Yes, you had spent the night there, but you didn’t recall falling asleep in that bed. That was extremely confusing. At that point you got up, taking your phone with her and walking outside of the room, following the scent of black tea and coffee coming from the kitchen, finally finding the tall man, who was standing in front of the stove, waiting for the coffee to be ready, printed papers in his hands. You just walked in, looking at him and greeting him, waiting for him to realize you were actually there. And when he finally raised his eyes from the papers to meet your gaze, a soft smile formed on his lips. “Good morning.” His voice was still a little raspy, he had probably just woke up himself. “Did you sleep well? I made you tea, and here you have toasts with jam or butter, granola, cookies, fruit. Take whatever you want.”

You sat down at the table, still looking at him, hoping he would say something that could remind you how you ended up waking up in his bed. Like, did you drink so much that now you couldn’t even remember doing it? Did you have sex? What happened?!

“Last night you were watching TV and you fell asleep on the couch” He said, as if he could read your mind. “So I picked you up, took you to my room and let you sleep in my bed, while I slept on the couch instead.”

You looked at him in silence for a second, waiting to finish chewing the cookie you had started to eat. “You didn’t have to. You could have woken me up and driven me home, or even just let me sleep on the couch.”

“That’s okay, don’t worry.” He smiled in that gentle way, like he always did, that kind of smile that reassures you, makes you feel comfortable. “Do you need me to drive you to your place so that you can change before going to University?”

“Yes, but you could just drop me off there and then I could take the bus, you don’t need to wait for me.”

“I insist.” His voice was soft, soothing, in a way. He had only known you for less than a day and he was already so caring and thoughtful. And the was weird for you because never in your experience someone did that just because they wanted to. Back in high school, people always wanted something in exchange. They treated you kindly and then they wanted you to do their homework; they invited you to parties, and then they wanted you to vote for them; they invited you over to their place to study together, and then they wanted to have sex. “Come on, I’m just trying to be nice. After all, we’re going to work together now.”

You didn’t let him go on for a lot more. You trusted him, even though you weren’t sure why. In his eyes you see that something that ha led you to accept his ride the day before. You trusted him, and that was the reason why you eventually gave in. And there you were, twenty minutes later, in front of your apartment, finally opening the door and letting the man in. “I’m really sorry for the mess.” You giggled, immediately running towards your flatmate’s room to close the door – it looked like a bomb had exploded inside that room, there were clothes all over the floor, open books on the bed and shoes on the desk, nothing was where it should have been. Luckily, the rest of the house wasn’t that bad, still a mess, but it could have definitely been worse. The living room wasn’t that big, the couch took up most of the space, all of her books were still inside those big cardboard boxes, only a couple of notebooks were lying on the coffee table with some other papers, most of them covered in tea and mug stains. Your room, on the other hand, had a reason for it to be a mess: it was still a work in progress, there were still boxes out, you hadn’t put all the books on the shelves nor all the clothes inside the closet, but that was just because you would usually have something else to do in the afternoon or in your spare time instead of tidying up.

“You can wait here, on the couch” You smiled, right before vanishing inside your bathroom. It didn’t take you long and fifteen minutes later you had showered and were now wearing some dark wash mom jeans, a loose navy blue turtleneck with white stripes, a cream coloured long cardigan and white sneakers. As simple as it could be. You put on some lip balm and walked out of the bathroom, picking up your bag and going back to the living room. There you immediately met those blue eyes that almost sent shivers down your spine, before going back to what they were looking at before. There was something about that man, something that you couldn’t yet understand but that still made you want to spend time with him as if he was a simple friend.

“Your poems are breath-taking. I didn’t expect you to be this good.” He commented, his eyes still on an open notebook. “I mean, I imagined you were probably really good, but I didn’t think you were this good.” When you finally realised what he was holding in his hands, you let you bag fall to ground with a big thud, before running towards him, taking the notebook from his hands and closing it immediately. He looked puzzled, why should someone this good hide her talent? “I’m really sorry, I found it there, on the coffee table. It was open, and I peeked. It’s impressive what you can do.”

“I never show my poems to anyone.” You whispered, hiding the notebook behind your back.

“I don’t get it? Why not share it with the word? Those are wonderful.” His voice was soft, sincere, his eyes tried to meet yours, which were now looking at your shoes.

“I don’t… I don’t think people would actually like them.”

He looked at you in silence for a while, before crossing his arms in front of his chest. “The Romantics, am I right? Those are the poets you look up to. Keats is probably your favourite.”

“Yes”

“Well, that explains a lot.” And you knew exactly what he meant by that, so you just kept your eyes low, trying to hide the peachy colour of your cheeks. “We should get going.” Said the man after taking a quick glance at his watch.

#gwilym lee #professor gwilym lee #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee x you #professor!gwilym lee #journeys end in lovers meeting #jeilm #softspaceboibrian writings

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softspaceboibrian · 5 years

Text

Journeys End in Lovers Meeting (Chapter 3)

Pairing: Professor!Gwilym Lee x reader

Summary: Reader is a new student at Harvard University and, on her first day, she does something she might regret. Or maybe not.

Warnings: mention of a stroke

Wc: 2212

A/N: guys, this chapter is very descriptive. hopefully you won't think it's boring or stuff. don't worry! in the next chapters more is going to happen!!

Previous chapters: 1 - 2 - 4 - 5

Taglist: @tegan-eva (ask if you want to be added)

On the other hand, you were pretty different, thing that Gwilym grew to love more than he expected himself to. At first, he didn’t notice the peculiar shade of your eyes, or the constant rosy colour of your cheeks. Gosh, he could look at those eyes the entire day if he could; you had intelligent eyes, and whenever you laid them on him, he knew you were thinking about something, you were studying him, noticing the smallest detail that even him had never noticed before; like that time when you walked up to him after the lesson finished and started off with a “Did you know you look a lot like Brian May? You know, the guitarist from Queen”. That made him laugh, at first, but when that night he found himself in front of a mirror, he started staring at his traits and noticed that you were right, as always. You had a beautiful mind that was always working on some new, fresh idea, that would surprise everyone. If you remained silent for a little too long, he would always ask you what you were thinking about and you would probably start answering by saying “What if…” or “Have you ever considered…”. And those amazing ideas usually came with a big dream. “I want to travel to Rome, visit Keats’ house and see his headstone, then do an essay on the impact that his poetry, his works and Romanticism in general is having on modern day culture.” You said one day, out of nowhere, while you were re-reading one of his articles; you were alone in his office, as every other afternoon, he was drinking black coffee, no sugar, just a little bit of cream, while you had your usual mug filled with tea. You changed the tea every couple of weeks: at first, you started with black tea, then, when autumn came, you moved to chai tea. But now the office was filled everyday with the soft smell of mint and honey, fresh and warm at the same time. Just like you, he thought. He also found out he loved to make you laugh: you had a loud laughter, the type that fills the room with joy, that contagious laugh that you cannot hear and stay serious. Your voice, on the contrary, well, your voice was soft, warm, so pleasing to listen to that he would often make you read his essays and articles aloud just to hear it. You loved scented candles, that’s for sure. You even bought an orange chocolate scented one for his studio, just because you thought he might like it. But in general, there’s no doubt you are a poet. You were quiet, your steps were gentle, just like a fairy’s ones. You were quiet because you were always thinking, analysing things and finding in them the smallest, most peculiar details that no one else would notice, taking time to organize your thoughts and ideas, but still struggling to find the right words. That’s probably the main reason why he has often walked in on you reading the entire dictionary for the umpteenth time. You had so many beautiful ideas, and you would always talk about them as if they were your children. “I’m afraid that I won’t be able to express what I’m thinking, to put it into words on paper, and I don’t won’t to ruin it.” You said to him many times; in fact, it had happened more than once that you could not be productive for days, weeks even, and then suddenly write six poems in an hour. But then, there’s this one thing that he read in one of your poems, one thing that stuck with him. «I wish to be enough, someday.» How could someone like you think that you weren’t enough. You were far more than enough. At least to him.

It was the beginning of December, and the first flakes of snow where starting to shyly cover the gardens and sidewalks, there were no longer leaves on the branches of the trees, it was finally that time of the year when he was able to turn on the fire in his little chimney in the evening. And, in fact, you loved spending the evenings over at his place, sometimes crushing on his couch just to enjoy the warmth of the fire. Or maybe you just enjoyed his company over anyone else’s.

The weeks went by and you got to know each other pretty well during your ‘meetings’ or your coffee breaks. Apparently, he was in fact of Welsh heritage, even though he was born in Bristol. He studied English Literature at Cardiff University and then moved to the USA. But, most importantly, he was the most genuine person you had ever known. You liked to look at him when he was busy working. His hair was long, but not too long, and sometimes little stands of hair would fall in front of his face, distracting him for even just a moment. When he was thinking, he would start doodling on the side of the page or on a spare paper. He collected playbills from theatre shows and museum’s pencils. He always had kind words for everyone. His earbuds were always tangled, and it would take him a good minute to untangle them. He always took artsy picture of everything, his dog, the school library, the first fallen leaves from the tree in front of his office’s window. He loved history, learning intriguing facts about historical figures. He liked to always have an open window, unless it was too cold outside. When he smiled, his eyes would brighten up, the corners of his lips go up, little crinkles show up around his eyes. He was also exactly how one would expect a writer to be: his notebooks a mess, full of notes and doodles, and his desk exactly the same, little reminders scattered all over the wooden surface, an empty pen holder, pens and pencils used as bookmarks. And his head too: he always had so many ideas, he was always thinking of a new article, a new story he could try to write, but that he never actually managed to finish; and you noticed that, sometimes, he would scribble stuff that he needed to remember on his hands and arms. He was definitely a night owl: it had happened many times that she would wake up to a text from him that had been sent at three in the morning. He was so passionate about everything that he liked, like that time, during class, when he was explaining Queen Elizabeth I’s Tilbury Speech, he was basically praising not only Queen Elizabeth herself, but her tutor, Roger Ascham, too. You found it adorable. He knew pretty much everything, except for his own limits. He was the kind of person that would try to make flowers bloom, even during heavy storms. But the things that stuck with you the most was the fact that he always found the good in everything.

“Love” That’s how he had been calling you lately, even around school, not really caring about what people would say. “They are doing Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night in a theatre just outside town and they want me to review it” He explained, showing you the email on his phone.

“Well, that’s amazing! When are you going?”

“We are going tonight. The play starts at 7:30, but we have to be there at least half an hour before the beginning of the play, because I have to meet the woman who has to give me the tickets at the reception.”

“Wait…” You stopped him, visibly puzzled “We are going?” You had talked about that many times before, Shakespeare was by far your favourite dramaturg and one of Gwilym’s favourite authors in general. You had often found yourselves debating whether it was Hamlet or Macbeth Shakespeare’s best play, discussing about every detail that made one’s favourite the best one and not the other’s.

“I got two tickets for free and I thought that you might have wanted to come with me. I mean, it’s Twelfth Night. You love it, it’s one of your favourites, isn’t it?”

You were speechless. You didn’t expect that to happen, not at all. Maybe that was the reason you immediately put your arms around him and reached for his cheek to leave a soft kiss, realising only afterwards that you weren’t at home or somewhere else. You were at University and there he was a professor and you were a student. You couldn’t act like that. So you instantly pulled away, your cheeks turning crimson, but he didn’t really seem to mind it.

“It’s a 45 minutes long drive, so I’ll pick you up at 6:00, so we have a few more minutes in case traffic is a mess. We can have dinner afterwards.” He smiled, his eyes on you, finding that look on your face extremely adorable. “Oh and wear a pretty dress.” He laughed while walking away.

Once you were left alone, you could feel the eyes of numerous girls on you, probably whispering to each other, already making assumption about the two of you. All you did at that point was walk out of the building, almost running towards the bus stop, to escape those curious looks rather than to actually get home early.

It was 5:45 and you were already sitting on the couch, a book in your hands, waiting for the man to send you the text saying that he was waiting for you outside. Wear a pretty dress, he said; and that was what you did. One could rarely see you wearing a dress, or anything a little more daring that a simple jeans and a nice blouse. But that time you decided that you could actually wear something different, maybe one of those dresses that your mother had bought for you years before. It was nothing too special, a simple bodycon dress with blue, burnt orange, mustard and white horizontal stripes. Obviously, not wanting to look too formal, you just paired it with a simple blue cardigan and white converse. Furthermore, you had no one to impress, it was only Gwilym, you professor, and in a way, your boss too. Yes, well, he was still really handsome, charming, and you too often found yourself daydreaming about those ocean blue eyes, that made you feel like you didn’t have to worry about your ponytail being perfect or your laugh being too loud. Whenever you were with him, you felt good, you felt as if that was the place where you were meant to be. And that was not good. You could not feel that way about him.

[from James] Hey love, I’m outside. Whenever you’re ready.

You didn’t even reply. You just put your jacket on and sprinted out, forgetting to say goodbye to Rose, who looked at you wondering whether you were acting like that because you were excited to go see one of your favourite plays or because you were basically going on a date with the man you had been talking about non-stop for the last few months.

You and Rose met the first day you came to Cambridge. She knew a new girl was going to live in the room next the hers, but she didn’t expect you to be, well, like you were. At first, you were reserved, she could barely see you outside of your room, but she could easily understand whether you were home or not, because you would always be playing those old records. One day she even caught you singing a little tune, but as soon as you realised she was watching you, you immediately turned red and shut the door. It took her a while before she could actually get to know you, even just a little bit. At first, it was small talks at dinner, random facts that popped up during movie nights. Then you spent a whole day around town, just the two of you, in which she showed you all the nice cafés and libraries where you could go and study without any problem, the restaurants where you could eat without spending too much, the shopping district, even the pretty places you could go to take pictures or take someone on a date. That day Rose found out some of the most important things about you. You were sitting on a bench in JFK Park and the brunette started talking about all times she had taken her parents there whenever they visited her, the things she used to do with them when they still lived together and how proud they were of her. But your response left her speechless. “My mother died two years ago. Stroke.” Your voice was cold, distant, your eyes on the water in front of you. “And my father is so proud of me that he is paying my tuition so that he doesn’t have to see me around the house anymore.” Rose didn’t know what to say, how to act, so she just stood up and offered you to go and eat ice cream. “I know a place that makes the best mint chocolate chip ice cream in town. It’s your favourite, isn’t it?”

#journeys end in lovers meeting #jeilm #professor gwilym lee #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee x you #gwilym lee #professor!gwilym lee #softspaceboibrian writings #softspaceboibrian

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