#gwilym lee fanfic

[myficreccs]

Bo Rhap Boys (and some of their other characters) fic rec masterlist

Updated 9 October 2023

Bo Rhap Boys

Headcanons

BohRap Boys as Elementary Teachers! by @likesomekindofcheese

Ben Hardy 

Series

And they were roommates by @fallingprincess

Save You by @fallingprincess

One shots

bookends by @almightygwil

Falling by @demo-wise

Glitter Blood by @fallingprincess

guessing games by @angrylizardjacket

Just Say You Won’t Let Go by @backstage-journal 

Movie Night by @pxroxide-prinxcesss

Nicotine Buzz by @redspecialty

Pain and other magical kinks by @fallingprincess

the proposal by @seven-seas-of-taylor

temporary fix by @seven-seas-of-taylor

Timing by @fallingprincess

[Unnamed request] by @illfoandillfie

Gwilym Lee

One shots

A Nice Surprise with Gwilym by @deacyblues

carolina by @almightyellie

classy girls by @almightyellie

from the shadows by @deacyblues

i lived by @almightyellie

like the movies by @brianmays-hair

meet on the ledge by @archaicmusings

patience by @almightyellie

p.s. i love you by @almightyellie

Joe Mazzello

Series

Agape by @joemazzmatazz

One shots

born losers by @archaicmusings

Date Night by @just-my-sickly-pride

Drowning by @joe-mazzello

Home. by @halfofwhatisayismeaningless

i’ll be in the front row by @angrylizardjacket

just give me a call by @mazzell-ro

Like a River Runs by @joemazzmatazz

linger a little longer by @rhapsodyrecs

love calls you by your name by @archaicmusings

Meant to go this way by @fallingprincess

Niece To Meet You by @moodysunflowergirl

Party For One by @joemazzmatazz

Request 1 by @assembledherethevolunteers

stars, cake, and kisses by @mazzell-ro

Stood Up, Make Love by @illfoandillfie

You Make Me Feel Like Dancin’ by @deacyblues

Blurbs

[700 follower celebration blurb] by @joemazzmatazz

Pat Murray

One shots

Collisions and Confessions by @assembledherethevolunteers

Love With Its Back Turned by @gardnerlangway

Napkin Numbers by @quinoaisrethinkinglife

Tim Murphy

One shots

Absolutely Smitten by @officially-multi-fandom

neighbor by @patmvrray

John Deacon

One shots

a dying art by @ineloqueent

A Permanent Deal by @adrenaline-roulette

crayons & caresses by @brianmays-hair

don’t go by @patmvrray

my wife by @ineloqueent

The Fire and the Flames by @deacyblues

Headcanons

Being a bassist and dating John Deacon by @stardust-killer-queen

Roger Taylor

Series

You’re a Legend, Freddie by @rogertayloriskindacool

One shots

Dining at The Ritz we’ll meet at 9 by @adrenaline-roulette 

#fic recommendation #fic reccomendations #fic rec #fic recs #bo rhap boys #bohemian rhapsody x reader #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy x y/n #ben hardy x you #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee x you #gwilym lee x y/n #gwilym lee fic #joe mazzello fanfic #joe mazzello fic #joe mazzello x reader #joe mazzello x y/n #joe mazzello x you #pat murray x reader #pat murrayxreader #tim murphy x reader #tim murphy x you #tim murphy x y/n #john deacon fic #john deacon x reader #john deacon x you #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor x you

[storiesforallfandoms]

history repeats itself ~ gwilym lee

word count: 2836

request?: yes!

“hey, i saw you wrote for Ben Hardy so I was wondering if you would write for Gwilym Lee? If not ignore this lol. I was thinking something like he meets the reader on set and they immediately hit it off, and the resemblance of her to Brian May’s wife is uncanny (let’s pretend he’s had just the one) and it’s kinda like a history repeats itself thing? idk if that made since. maybe Brian and Roger noticing and just being so amazed seeing that happening in front of them? thank you, and obviously since i have no explanation skills take complete control!”

description: when she gets cast to play the wife of a rock legend, everyone realizes how similar she and her on screen husband look to the originals

pairing: gwilym lee x female!reader

warnings: swearing, rpf

masterlist (one, two, three)

It was such a small role, one that didn’t even have any lines. But to me, it was huge. It was a small role in a massive blockbuster movie: the Freddie Mercury biopic. It would be the biggest job of my career. Up until that point, I had only been an extra in a few sitcoms. Having a small, silent role as Brian May’s wife in a Freddie Mercury biopic may seem like a small step up from what I’m used to, but the scale of the movie made it a massive deal for me.

I wasn’t sure if I’d get the role. There were hundreds of other actresses just like me - desperate for even the smallest roles in such a big film - were lined up to meet the director and casting director. It was such a small chance of getting it I thought. Until I walked into the room and both of their eyes widened when they landed on me.

“Holy shit,” the casting director breathed. “She looks just like her.”

I was cast on the spot. I nearly sobbed in happiness. I managed to keep the tears in until I got to my car and could call my parents to give them the news.

A few months later, I was preparing for my day on set. It was a party scene that was taking place at Freddie’s mansion at the height of their career. The other band members - Brian, Roger, and John - were there with their wives/girlfriends. The scene mostly required us to sit by our assigned on-screen husbands while they conversed. It was an easy day, and it was only going to take one day of filming, but I was still nervous. I had already met up with the director and some of the cast involved in the scene, but today I was going to be meeting the main four actors and two members of Queen.

I was just finished with wardrobe and was on my way to hair and makeup when I came across one of the main actors, Gwilym. I had been told about him after being cast, since he was the one playing Brian May, but I hadn’t met him yet. I suddenly felt nervous as I approached the hair and makeup trailer, where Gwilym was stood outside the door also waiting. He looked up as he heard me approach and smiled.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” I said back. “I’m (Y/N).”

“Gwilym. Nice to meet you.” He reached out and shook my hand. I hoped he couldn’t feel how my hands were shaking. “You’re playing Brian’s wife, right? Well, my wife I guess.”

I chuckled and nodded. “Yeah, that’s me. I’m getting all dolled up for my one day on set to film my one, dialogue-less scene.”

“Hey, there’s no such thing as small parts remember.”

I made a face at him. “You sound like my old theater teachers.”

Gwilym cringed. “That’s the last thing I’d ever want.”

I laughed. The door to the hair and makeup trailer opened and two other extras came out. The stylist greeted us and told us to come in. I sat in one chair while Gwilym sat in the one next to me. I watched the stylist grab a long, brunette wig and place it next to Gwilym.

“I’m gonna have to do Gwilym’s wig firs since that’ll take the longest,” she told me. “So, sit tight, and try not to mess up your wardrobe too much.”

I nodded and gave her a thumbs up.

I watched the process of applying Gwilym’s wig. It really did take a long time. First, a bald cap had to be applied to Gwilym’s head. Then, the wig was placed on his head in a few different ways to figure out the best placement. Once that was figured out, the wig had to be pinned down in a way that made it look natural on his head, and not like a wig.

“So,” Gwilym said, trying his best not to move his head. “Since we’re going to be here a while, and since we’re playing a married couple, I suppose we should get to know one another.”

“Sure,” I said with a laugh. “What do you want to know?”

“Is this your first movie?”

“It is. Until now I was just an extra in a few sitcoms. I had one line once, that’s the extent of my career.”

“Well, extras are important. Without them, a scene would look so stupid if it was just the main characters.”

I shrugged. “I know that, and I know every actor has to start somewhere, but I’ve been doing this for roughly five years. Performing Arts schools are expensive and I sometimes worry I made a mistake persuing acting.”

I saw Gwilym’s eyes quickly look over at me before looking back at the mirror in front of him. “It’s never a mistake to chase your dreams. It just takes time. You have to play the small parts in order to get experience for the big ones.”

“You’re right. It’s just taking so long. But I’m here now, so that’s a step up.” I shook my head. “Anyways, away from my career insecurities. Tell me a bit about you.”

We talked throughout his wig applying process. We exchanged embarrassing childhood stories, talked about how we got into acting, general details about one another. I had forgotten about the fact that I was waiting to have my own hair and makeup done by the time Gwilym stood from his chair.

He looked at himself in the mirror before turning to me. “How do I look?”

I tilted my head as I looked up at him. “Scarily like Brian May.”

He chuckled. “That’s good, then. They won’t fire me anytime soon. I’ll see you on set?”

I nodded and watched him go. I felt a little disappointed by the fact that he was leaving. I had really enjoyed talking to him. The next time I’d see him would be on set for the scene, where we wouldn’t be able to talk, and then once that ended I’d never see him again.

The stylist started going my hair and makeup. She showed me a picture of Brian and his wife in the early 80s, which was when the scene was set, as the inspiration for my look in the scene. It was subtle, but it was clearly 80s. It didn’t take as long as Gwilym’s had, and soon enough, I was on my way again.

I stepped out of the trailer just as Gwilym was walking up again. He was now in his costume, looking so much like a young Brian May that it was scary.

“Right on time,” he said. “I was coming back to walk you to set.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” I said, but I was touched by the offer.

“I didn’t have to, but I wanted to, so I am.” He offered an arm to me, like a gentleman. I took it and we started walking to set. “Besides, it’s a big scene with a lot of people. It might be nerve wracking to walk on set by yourself with all those people.”

“It is. Especially with meeting the rest of the main cast at the same time.”

“Oh, they’re all a bunch of wankers, you don’t have to worry about meeting them.”

I giggled. “You can’t say that about Brian May and Roger Taylor, though. And they’re going to be on set, too.”

“No, you’re right. But they are very kind. You don’t have to worry about meeting them. I’m sure everyone will like you. Even if they didn’t, who cares? You won’t have to see them again after today.”

He had a point, but it was still sad to hear out loud. I had been preparing for this day for so long, excited for my first big project. And now, within a matter of hours, it would all be over. I’d be sent back home, waiting for the next role to come up, hoping that maybe this movie could help with that role being a bigger one than just an extra. Back to my normal, boring life.

Saying goodbye to Gwilym.

I had managed to shock myself with that thought. I had only known Gwilym for maybe an hour and a half, but the thought of only having this day with him brought on a bit of sadness. He was so kind, and he seemed so genuine. I had never been on a set where the main actors even acknowledged that the extras existed, let alone be nice enough to walk one to set after talking to her for some time.

Not to mention he was extremely handsome. Especially when he smiled, like he was smiling at me now.

God, don’t develop a crush on the guy you’ll never see again after today.

My heart rate jumped the second we walked on to set. Gwilym wasn’t lying when he said there was going to be a lot of people in the scene. The mansion set was packed with people, so full that there was just barely enough room to move around. I was hoping this was the only amount of extras that were set to be in the scene, or else I think my nerves would go into over drive.

The director spotted Gwilym and I almost immediately and led us over to where we were set to be for the scene. Rami, Joseph, and Ben were already sat around having a laugh as we walked up. They happily greeted Gwilym, and he then introduced me to the lot of them. They were very nice and welcomed me in almost immediately, but it was still pretty surreal to be there with them. Especially Joseph, who I had seen in Jurassic Park when I was just a kid. I almost felt out of place there, but I could tell I wasn’t alone. I introduced myself to the other girls who were playing Ben and Joseph’s on screen love interests, who also looked just as out of place as I felt.

We were all sat around together when the buzz in the room suddenly turned into a hush. It wasn’t hard to know what had just happened: they had arrived.

Brian May and Roger Taylor themselves.

Rock and roll royalty.

I looked over and my heart leapt into my throat at the sight of them. It was hard to believe that they were actually real. I had been listening to Queen’s music all my life, but it wasn’t until this moment that I truly realized that these legends were actual real people.

Actual real people who were walking towards us.

I jumped when I felt a hand on my arm. I looked over to see that it was Gwilym’s hand. When I looked at him, he smiled. I couldn’t help but smile back, the nervousness in my stomach being replaced with butterflies. His hand moved down my arm and squeezed my own. I squeezed his hand back.

“My God.”

I looked up to see Brian and Roger stood over us. I tried to put on my best smile, hoping it wasn’t as obvious as I felt it was that I was shaking. Brian was looking between Gwilym and I, a look in his eye that I couldn’t quite place. Reminiscent, maybe?

“They did a spot on job casting for this movie,” Brian commented. “It feels like I’m looking into a mirror with you two.”

“If there mirror were about 50 years younger,” Roger teased.

“You speak from experience, don’t you old man?” Brian retorted. I couldn’t help but chuckle at their banter. Years of friendship and knowing one another, and they were still cracking jokes and poking fun. I hoped to be like them with my friends when I got older. “What’s your name, love?”

It took me a moment to realize he was talking to me. I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out. In fact, there was nothing going on in my head at all. It was like I had completely forgotten every little thing I had ever learned in my life. How does one continue to function after Brian May calls them “love”?

“This is (Y/N),” Gwilym said, saving me from my colossal choke.

“Yes,” I finally managed. “Sorry, my name is (Y/N). I’m a little nervous.”

“Nothing to be nervous about, darling,” Brian said. “You already have the look of my wife down. And it seems you and young Gwilym here have already gotten quite acquainted.”

I didn’t realize that Gwilym and I were still holding hands. I expected him to let go at that moment, as if he were just realizing as well, but he didn’t. Instead, he kept hold of my hand, giving it another reassuring squeeze. I wondered if the blush on my face was noticeable under the makeup.

The director called for places, so Brian and Roger took their places off set. I let out a sigh of relief after they were gone and moved into place with Gwilym.

“See?” he whispered to me as we were passed glasses of fake champagne. “They’re not that bad.”

“Their presence alone is a little terrifying,” I whispered back.

“But you got through it. Seems Brian’s taken a liking to you. Although, that’s not surprisingly considering how lovely you are.”

I was convinced this was all some sort of very long, very detailed dream. I was going to wake up at any given moment.

The scene went by very smoothly. It wasn’t hard to just look between the boys as they spoke, smiling when I was supposed to smile, offering a sour look when Rami arrived, acting as a rather rude Freddie. It felt like Gwilym was moving closer to me with each take that we did. First we started off sitting in separate chairs, until the director asked if we would switch and sit in the couch that Joseph and his lady friend had been sat in. Gwilym had moved towards me at the start of that take, and by the final take of the day our bodies were touching and his arm was around me. I was glad I didn’t have any lines, or else I would’ve likely forgotten every single one of them.

When the director called cut and said it was a wrap on the scene, I tried not to let my sadness show. The extras started to file out of the room, going to get read for a different scene that they were filling for. Not me, though. I was going to wardrobe to get my outfit taken back, and then I was going home. If I was lucky, I would be invited to the premiere, otherwise I would never see any of these people again.

I wouldn’t see Gwilym again.

Ben, Joseph, and Rami were kind enough to give me a hug and tell me they were happy to have met me. I told them likewise and started my way back to the wardrobe trailer.

“(Y/N)! Wait!”

I turned to see Gwilym rushing up towards me.

“Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for your next scene?” I asked him.

“Yes, but I wanted to talk to you before you left,” he said. “Look, I know this is a bit presumptive to ask because we only really spoke to one another for that time in hair and makeup, and I have no idea if you’re even single so maybe I’m about to make an ass out of myself, but I wanted to ask you if you’d like to go out this evening once I’ve finished on set.”

Everything in my brain? Gone.

Every last bit of it.

Gone.

I couldn’t believe this was happening. It had to be a dream, right? There was no way it was real. I would’ve pinched myself if it wouldn’t have made me look like a total idiot in front of Gwilym.

“Yes,” I said. “ I mean, yeah, sure, I - I would love that.”

His face lit up. “Yeah? Okay. Here, let me give you my number.”

We both realized we didn’t have our phones, so we had to do it the old fashioned way - Gwilym found a pen and paper, and wrote down his number for me. I took the paper and shoved it into my pocket.

“I’ll text you once I’m no longer part of the 80s,” I said, gesturing towards my outfit.

He chuckled. “And I’ll do the same.”

We both stood, just looking at each other for a moment. It wasn’t until Gwilym was called back to set that we finally, reluctantly, broke away to go out separate ways. I put my hand in my pocket and closed it around the piece of paper containing Gwilym’s number. I smiled to myself, having to restrain myself from skipping happily towards wardrobe.

I guess history really does repeat itself, I thought with a laugh.

#gwilym lee #gwilym lee imagine #gwilym lee x reader #imagine #one shot #request #bohemian rhapsody #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

[likesomekindofcheese]

Promised- Finale (Grigor Dymov x fem! Reader, Arranged Marriage AU series)

Series Summary: When Emperor Peter's behavior towards your family threatens the alliance between them and Russia, the only way to solve it from breaking is through an arranged marriage with his friend, the handsome but heartbroken Count Grigor Dymov. A man you barely know.

Previous Chapters: One//Two//Three//Four//Five//Six//Seven//Eight//Nine//Ten//Eleven

Chapter Summary: You and Grigor enjoy a long-denied honeymoon

Content Warnings: Some discussions of sex and cursing and mentions of pregnancy and babies- don't worry, Y/N isn't pregnant. But VERY fluffy!

Word Count: 1584

A/N: Thank you guys so much for supporting this series throughout! Now I thought was the best time to conclude it! When season 3 of The Great comes out and should I get inspired, there might be a season 2 of this fic like what @ladystrallan did with I Really Wish I Hated You (which, btw, highly recommend if you love The Great Fanfics). Who knows?! But I hope all of you loved reading it as much as I loved writing this series!

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Comments Reblogs and asks and dms about my works are deeply appreciated! So consider leaving one of them if you liked it!

Taglist:

General Taglist: @stardust-killer-queen​ @queenlover05​ @seraphicmercury

Promised Taglist: Taglist: @itsametaphorgwil​ @bluesfortheredj​ @grigorlee​ @retropetalss @queenlover05 @joeslee   @grigorlee @itsametaphorgwil @always-a-fairycat @foxinaforestofstars @simonedk @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @queenlover05 @xviiarez @kiainspace @gwilymleeisbae @writeroutoftime @staradorned @iwritefanficnotprophecies @panagiasikelia @marshmxllowfluf @jamesbuckybarns​ @yourlocalmusicalprostitute​ @rhapsodyrecs​ @ladystrallan​​ ​

You and Grigor were planning on returning to court. You both just wanted something denied to you when you were rushed to be married and when there was a coup- a honeymoon. Three whole months of a honeymoon.

The days were never more lovely- lovemaking at night, awakening when one felt like it, the most sumptuous meals, playing cards by the fireside, reading to each other, and you showing off the various songs you knew how to play. You were starting to teach Grigor chords and his clumsy practicing of scales with mutters of “fuck!” at a mistake could be heard. You still kept shooting practice, but you were relaxed, not caring if you missed the odd target.

It was quite warm for Russia the past two weeks. Flowers were deep in their bloom in the gardens, and it was green everywhere. The vineyards seemed to be a far brighter green than you expected. Perhaps springtime was arriving sooner than you expected or maybe it was a warm spot for a few days. You had to wear your lighter silks as opposed to the warm furs to keep one safe from your new home country’s notorious chill.

As you and your husband toured the grounds together that afternoon, there were fruits of light green and dark purple. You would both look at each other, pluck the small fruits, and try bites of them yourself, feeling the juicy sweetness burst on your tongues, as if only briefly. Grigor would wipe the juice off of his sleeve and give you a kiss and you would taste the grape in his breath as if combined with yours you made your own special wine. Grigor was in his favorite deep green. You had insisted he keep a few buttons down so you could see some of his chest hair. You insisted it was absolutely sexy of him when he wore shirts (especially white ones) with a few buttons undone and he took note. Yes, it was the wrong color today, but you didn’t care. Perhaps that could wait for later tonight when you would hop on him like a rabbit until you screamed each other’s names, not caring about disturbing the servants sleeping below. You were in a bright red dress with golden floral patterns all over it and you perfumed yourself with rose water.

You matched and complimented in your dress as had your souls on the inside- each perfect and making only the other look better when beside it.

You emerged from the kiss and wiped your hand on your skirt.

“Could you hold my hand, my dear?” you asked, presenting your hand out.

He raised his eyebrows.

“Oh abso-fucking-lutely,” he replied, eagerly taking yours.

It was warm and encompassing, the fingers intertwined within each other to feel the pulse of each other. As you both walked back home, the day was fading. The sky turned into a mix of orange and pink and the crispness of evening etched around you. Once you approached back to the manor, the housekeeper greeted you both and assured you that dinner would be ready in one or two hours. Olga, the little servant girl, handed you back your beloved dog and both of you cooed over her.

“Oh and Madame Dymova! Here! Messenger said it’s from Paris! And it’s for you and the master!” she added on, handing over a letter with a familiar wax seal.

Before you could comment on it, Sonya let out a bright bark for want of attention.

“Here Sonya- found this! Here- Good girl!” Grigor offered.

From his pocket, he pulled out a truffle and fed it to the eager and always hungry pup.

“Would you like some wine? There’s a new one they just made here and it’s fucking astounding,” he offered.

“Oh, yes! And ask the kitchen for a plate of bread and cheese and fruit, perhaps?” you asked.

“I don’t see why not!” he replied, giving you a peck on your forehead before going down to the kitchen.

You made your way to the back porch area outside on your white seats and white chairs. You found it had not grown so chilly that you would require heaps of blankets as you have in the past. Sonya lay happily on your lap panting away. Though grown, she still saw herself as a puppy who had to have every last of her needs attended to, or else her mistress would hear her barking and mischief. But you loved her more for it.

You pulled from your reticule an unopened letter from the dress of your pocket. It couldn’t be your family- you heard just yesterday that you were an aunt to a beautiful little niece. Both you and Grigor were already making plans to travel and visit your family and for you to be introduced and be acquainted with his own. So, who could it be? Was it Catherine about her baby or the new education laws? Orlo recommending a new philosophy book to you? Who? You saw the name on it and gasped.

“It’s George! George wrote to us!” you told Sonya, who only tilted her head.

You then ripped it open and smiled, your heart touched by the contents. From the corner, you saw Grigor come out to approach the table. He smiled, holding two glasses of wine, and giving one to you.

“Why thank you, darling!” you chirruped at him.

“No problem at all,” he answered.

A servant immediately arrived behind and held a platter of cheeses, slices of bread, and apples. His blue eyes went to the letter.

“What is that? Who is it?” he asked.

You smiled, handing him the papers.

“Why, it’s George!? Can’t you believe it? She’s in Paris of all places! Oh, that must be wonderful! And here…she said she met someone who she truly loves and who loves her! Oh, I’m so happy for her! We must write back and ask her more about this!” you squealed.

“Why- how good for her! I’m glad!” Grigor wished genuinely with a shrug and a relaxed smile.

Both of you held up your glasses of wine.

“Should we toast to her?” you asked.

Grigor shook his head.

“I have a better one. To what brought us together in the first place. Here, Y/N-to the alliance!”

“To the alliance!” you agreed, daintily clinking your glasses.

Both of you took a first sip.

“It won’t be too long before we return- so much will be different…” Grigor began.

“I’m just glad Marial is in prison…I’ve slept better at night since then…” you sighed.

He did frown briefly. He took a deep drink and set down his glass.

“Well…part of me is eager. Been worried sick over Peter.”

“But you always are, you silly shit!” you teased, setting your own glass down.

He smiled at the words. You thought there was never a more beautiful smile than that of Grigor Dymov when he was well and truly happy. Your heart would always burst with love for him at the sight.

His letters seem fine and happy though…he’s thrilled about the baby. Got a name picked out and everything!”

“What if we have a baby- will we be even ready for that?” you suggested.

So far, your courses were like clockwork and Grigor would spoil you with bedrest and vodka and embraces when the cramps tormented you. But that doesn’t mean the time would never come. In fact, with all the fucking you had been doing it was a pure miracle it hadn’t happened yet!

“I don’t know if we’ll ever be, Y/N…but what about life after the coup? Things will be so…so different. Peter’s not in charge as much. There’s a royal baby on the way. George is in France. Catherine’s changing all the laws to what she wants. Everything is upside down…” he muttered.

“But we can take it…” you assured him.

He clutched his hand onto yours in response and you used your other hand to rest it on his cheek. He relaxed into it, using a hand to touch yours.

“We can take anything as long as we’re together, darling,” he replied.

“Of course, we can, my dear husband…” you cooed.

"Oh, say that again!” he insisted.

You crawled on his lap, kissing his face- his freckles, his forehead, his cheekbones, his chin.

“Dear husband, dear husband, my Grigor, my darling…” you mumbled between the kisses.

“Fuck, you make me hard. Keep it up and I might have to have you on this table before dinner!” he confessed.

“Wait until after dinner!” you insisted with a joking slap on his arm.

“If Countess Dymova requests it, who am I to deny her that!” he gave in.

You giggled and paused. Both of you breathe deeply the warmth of each other and the closeness.

He kissed you with soft lips again, but there was a chasteness- a tenderness to how he cupped your cheek when it happened. You cuddled into his chest as the sun set and he placed an arm around you to draw circles on your back as the dog lay contentedly smiling on the floor with her pink tongue out.

You were happy. After such chaos you had been through- you were completely happy. Dinner was about to be served. You had a home in court and out. You had a precious pup. You had friends. And most of all, you had found a happy, faithful marriage. And a husband who you loved and who loved you.

And this time the wine did in fact not taste like shit.

#carrie writes #promised #the great #the great fanfiction #grigor dymov #grigor dymov x reader #grigor dymov x fem! reader #grigor dymov x y/n #grigor dymov x fem! y/n #gwilym lee #bohrap cast #welsh disney prince #grigor dymov x you #arranged marriage #arranged marraige au #marriage of convenience #marriage of convenience au #the great fanfic #grigor dymov fluff #grigor dymov imgine #gwilym lee imagine #gwilym lee fluff #gwilym lee fanfic

[ladystrallan]

New G&G fic!

Happiness

A G&G modern AU

Grigor packs up his stuff as he prepares to move out of their apartment.

Check it out here

#the great #the great hulu #georgina dymov #charity wakefield #grigor dymov #gwilym lee #g&g #grigor x georgina #modern au #the great fanfic #read on ao3 #fan fic #fan fiction #taylor swift #fucking lemoniest of lemon

[greatkinglulu]

Okay, so I saw this reel on insta and I think I NEED to write a OS with Ben Hardy!Roger Taylor about it.

What do we think? 👀

#queen #borhap #roger taylor #freddie mercury #brian may #john deacon #ben hardy #rami malek #gwilym lee #joe mazzello #queen fanfiction #queen fandom #ben hardy fanfic #roger taylor fanfic #ben hardy as roger taylor #greatkinglulu

[nightfall-by-jacqui-natla]

12. SIMON

THE DOOR SHUT WITH A SOFT CLICK, as if it had a mind of its own. I sauntered down the corridor, taking in the familiar scarlet rug and the cool stone floor beneath my feet. But something was different. The walls were adorned with regal purple wallpaper, embellished with intricate golden patterns.

I couldn't help but think that a little redecorating was in order.

I turned left and walked ten paces to the next door. It was a magnificent arched walnut door, with four squares - two at the top and two at the bottom. A single word was etched onto the door, in what I assumed was Latin. "BIBLIOTHECA".

Definitely Latin.

I placed my hand on the doorknob and pushed it down. The door creaked open, revealing a vast library. Books upon books lined the shelves, and there was even an upstairs room overflowing with literature. A large window sat in the corner, casting a warm glow over the room. And there, in the midst of it all, sat Simon.

His head was bent over a book, his golden eyes scanning the pages intently. As the door closed behind me, he looked up and flashed me a smile.

"Salutations, Violet," he greeted me with a nod, acknowledging my presence in the grand library.

"Hey," I replied nonchalantly as I strolled through the vast aisles of books. "This library is quite impressive, isn't it?"

Simon looked at me with a perplexed expression. "Is that a rhetorical question or are you genuinely surprised?"

I stumbled over my words, "N-No, I mean, I knew it was big, but I didn't expect it to be this massive." I paused by the table where Simon was seated.

"So, what have you been up to today?" He inquired curiously.

"I spent my day conversing with Gabriel and Joseph, learning about their past experiences," I explained with a hint of intrigue in his voice.

"So, Gabriel told you about the Volturi?" he asked and I nodded. "And Joseph told you how he met him?"

"Yeah, and that got me thinking," I said. "How did you meet them?"

With a gentle thud, Simon closed his book and pushed it aside. His eyes lifted, gazing up at me with a curious intensity.

"It was a bit of a long story," he began. "It was a long time ago. I was born in a rich Walton family in 1589. I had a good childhood. When I was twenty-five, I joined a hunting group as rumours were spreading about witches and demons harming the village back in my time. I was married to a young woman named Josian and have a son, Arthur.

"One day, in 1620, in the afternoon, a vampire named Alistair attacked me and, close to dying, he turned me. After my transformation, the hunting group came in my direction and I killed them one by one with my strength and drank their blood. I haven't returned to my family since that day.

"Forty years after my transformation, I was discovered by Gabriel and Joseph in the woods after they were bringing a few deers to their home. I asked them what they were doing with the deer and Gabriel explained the diet of drinking animal blood.

"I found this diet interesting and decided to go with them and try it. After practising the diet for five years, I stayed with them and Gabriel made me a third co-leader of the coven."

As I delved into the story, I was pleasantly surprised. The tale of Gabriel and Joseph was a sombre one, but with Simon, it was different. Though his transformation into a vampire and subsequent demise at the hands of this Alistair vampire man was undoubtedly tragic, there was something about him that made it all seem less sorrowful. Perhaps it was his demeanour, or maybe it was the way he spoke of his past. Regardless, my mind couldn't help but wander to thoughts of him and Alana.

Curiosity got the better of me, and I couldn't resist asking, "How did you meet her, Simon? Alana, I mean. How did the two of you come to be?"

Simon let out a sigh, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips as he began to recount their story.

"I waited hundreds of years to find someone like her. In 1924, I learnt that Gabriel and Joseph were watching Alana, who was pregnant with Ethan at the time, and they deemed her as gifted but I asked her to wait until Ethan was born as I wanted her to be my mate."

"By watching, you mean stalking?" I said, questioning the past actions.

"I wouldn't say it was stalking," Simon replied. "They didn't follow her. They were just checking up on her."

"I hate to disagree with you, but that sounds like stalking."

"Well, it's not," Simon stated. "Anyway, as she gave birth, Joseph told me to get Alana as she was close to death. After Ethan was born, I entered the hospital and took her. When we were far away enough from the humans, I turned her. After she was turned, she explained that...”

He halted his words, his hands clenching into a tight knot. His eyes, once gleaming with a golden hue, now brimmed with remorse as he divulged his secret. Inhaling deeply, he exhaled a heavy sigh, his voice quivering as he spoke.

"She confided in me that she was with child because..." His words trailed off as he nervously swallowed, his throat bobbing up and down.

I didn't need him to finish his sentence. I already knew.

"It's alright," I reassured him, sensing his unease. "You don't have to say anything more if you don't want to."

His body tensed up, his hand instinctively reaching up to rub his nose. It was evident that the topic was a sore spot for him, and I couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for his pain.

As I divulged the details, his eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched.

"I made my way to his abode and put an end to his wretched existence. He had no right to continue living after the heinous act he committed against her." The words dripped with venom, a stark contrast to the calm demeanour I had associated with Simon.

"When she was trying to get self-control, I helped her raise Ethan with her," Simon said calmly. He sighed with a small smile slowly appearing on his pale face. "I think it was that moment when she fell in love with me."

"I guessed you're just her type," I said and he chuckled. Then, I thought about something. "While raising Ethan, did anyone find you all suspicious?"

"One time, when he was a schoolboy," Simon began. "His teacher, Ms Cook, who was a very religious woman, was very horrible to him. She kept calling him Devil child and the spawn of Satan. Not just her but the school system as well. And for that, we pulled him out of school and I started homeschooling him."

"Did any of them suspect that you all are vampires?"

"No, they suspect we're a cult but not vampires."

"Okay, so how did he figure out about all of you?" I asked him.

"It was when he was eighteen that he noticed something strange," Simon replied. "He started to see why we don't age but he and other people are. With Gabriel's permission, Alana and I told him we are vampires.

"At first, Ethan thought it was a joke. But as I explained it, our eyes, our diet, everything, he was surprised."

"And he didn't tell anyone?" I inquired.

"No," he answered. "He didn't have friends anyway because they don't like or trust us."

"When did he become a vampire?"

"When he was twenty-one. He was walking home from his work from the office. It was at night. As he was walking, he heard a scream. It was a woman's scream. He followed the sound to a dark alleyway and he saw a man attacking the woman. He pulled him away and told her to run. That was when the man stabbed him."

"He was saving a life?" I questioned him.

"He saved a woman from the same trauma that his mother had," Simon explained. "And thanks to Alana's gift, she told me where he was and I found him by smelling his blood. I was conflicted about turning him in. Alana wants him to live a human life and have a family of his own, but she wants me to keep him safe.

"Yet I know his death would affect her greatly. At the quick decision, I turned him."

I pursed my lip together. "Was Alana mad about it?"

"She was, at first," he nodded. "But Ethan explained that I saved his life and he saved the woman from her attacker."

"At least that story has a happy ending," I said.

"Yeah, it sure does."

When Simon recounted his tale, his voice carried a serene melody that soothed my soul. After bidding our farewells, I departed from the library, feeling content and at ease.

Continue to 13. HELENA

#twilight saga #twilight #book one #chapter twelve #simon #reading fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #gwilym lee #edward cullen #bella cullen #jacob black #vampires vs werewolves #vampires #vamily #vampire #werewolf #childrenofthemoon #shapeshifter #nightfall #saga

[magickcandie]

There’s isn’t enough Gwilym Lee fanfic out there and I’m so upset

#gwilym lee

[gothedrals]

I forget that jesus was a real guy and not just the main character of the stations of the cross etc in the same way that post-borhap queen fans read self insert fanfic about gwilym lee as brian may. does anyone understand

#g

[borhapparker]

bohemian rhapsody masterlist

( last updated: december 22, 2021 )

FULL FIC MASTERLIST

BEN HARDY:

- After Party: the premier of ‘bohemian rhapsody’ was the talk of the town. seeing as you owned a little bar close to the arena, you decided to host a queen karaoke night as a homage. never did you think the cast would show up, let alone develop a friendship and relationship with a  certain blue/green eyed boy. - Styling Hearts: (COMING SOON) - Love Of My Life: (COMING SOON) - Palabras de Amor: (COMING SOON) - Three Little Words: (COMING SOON) - Accused: (COMING SOON) - Comforting: (COMING SOON)

GWILYM LEE:

- Accents Clash: (COMING SOON) - Interviews: (COMING SOON) - Guitar Lessons: (COMING SOON) - Concerts: (COMING SOON) - Hotel Rooms: (COMING SOON) - Co-Star Affection: (COMING SOON) - Mutual Pining: (COMING SOON)

ROGER TAYLOR:

- Not A Groupie: (COMING SOON) - Gigs and Beers: (COMING SOON) - Change of Heart: (COMING SOON) - Affection: (COMING SOON) - “I Love You”: (COMING SOON) - Tour Dates: (COMING SOON)

BRIAN MAY:

- Electricity: (COMING SOON) - Musical Affection: (COMING SOON) - Dedications: (COMING SOON) - My Astrophysicist: (COMING SOON) - Shinning Eyes: (COMING SOON)

#ambahr's writing #skye's writing #ben hardy #ben hardy imagines #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy fanfiction #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy x you #roger taylor #roger taylor imagines #roger taylor fanfic #roger taylor fanfiction #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor x you #gwilym lee #gwilym lee imagines #gwilym lee fanfic #gwilym lee fanfiction #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee x you #brian may #brian may imagines #brian may fanfic #brian may fanfiction #brian may x reader #brian may x you #bohemian rhapsody

[bluesfortheredj]

Forever starts now - GL.

Gwilym’s eyes are locked on the ceiling above him as his slender fingers fidget with the hem of his jumper while he sits nervously on the sofa; one of his legs unable to stop bouncing up and down anxiously. Outside in the street you shrug your coat higher up your neck as the rain begins to seep inside your jacket, and you quickly press the doorbell again to try and hurry the man inside up; it was freezing and your hair was now absolutely drenched with thick strands of it stuck to your cheeks and neck.

“Come on, come on,” you mutter, hopping from one foot to the other.

Finally the door opens to reveal the slightly dishevelled looking guy in one of his cosiest jumpers with his brunette locks swept to one side. His free hand rests on his hip and he gives you a wonky smile as he takes in your appearance.

“You look wet,” he smirks.

“I’m absolutely soaked,” you huff.

“Better come in then.”

He steps to the side to allow you entry and shuts the door as soon as you’re safely out of the way, then you slip your boots off and hang your coat up before he gestures to the lounge where you flop down onto the soft couch with a sigh.

“So what brings you out in the pouring rain?”

“Did you really expect me to stay at home after hearing that voicemail?”

“Ah.”

“Yeah… just tell me one thing; do you mean it?”

His expression turns serious and he takes your icy hands in his before looking directly into your eyes to confirm his sincerity, “of course I mean it. I know what you stand to lose, you know what I’ve sacrificed already as well, and I wouldn’t have done any of this if I wasn’t completely sure about being with you.”

“Well that’s a relief,” you chuckle, “because-”

A bang from upstairs interrupts your sentence and the two of you both look up at the ceiling at exactly the same time, just as there’s a shuffling on the floor. You soon turn your attention back to Gwilym and snatch your hands away from his before covering your mouth with them at the sight of his suddenly panicked expression. His face reddens as his eyes flick from your gaze to the white expanse above you both, and he shakes his head as he brings his hands up either side of his face in surrender before gently bringing them down to his thighs as if pushing something away.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, “I… I’ve just… you’ve got someone here.”

You slowly rise from the sofa while he mirrors your actions with his arms open and palms flat almost like he was trying to calm a frightened animal, but you soon move past him to the hallway where he attempts to get a grip on one of your arms; failing as you wriggle out of his grasp each time.

“No,” you snap, pointing your finger at him with a shaking hand, “no.”

“(Y/N), please, it’s not what you think, I-”

“Don’t you dare. Don’t you even dare.”

Your eyes are narrowed at him as you pull your boots on along with your coat, then you back up to the door and exit just in time to hide your tears from him. The rain disguises the stream of misery that pours over your cheeks as you scuttle down the road as fast as your feet will take you, and yet when you reach the corner of the street you can’t help but look back to see if he was daring to follow you or if the other person had left. Neither sight greeted you, and with one last forceful sniff you turn away and continue your journey back home with a renewed determination as you pull your phone out and delete the voicemail you’d travelled half way across London for; all you could hear in his voice now was empty promises.

This wasn’t what was meant to happen, you’d come to tell him that you were going to break up with your boyfriend so you could be with him, that it was him you were in love with and not James. This didn’t happen in the films you’d seen, they’d lied to you, this was meant to be the most romantic part of the film where the two main characters kiss while getting soaked by the rain, neither of them giving a damn about the weather as they finally get together after a couple of hours of back and forth about whether it would happen or not. Reality sucked.

“Where have you been?!” James asks with genuine concern as you finally get home.

“Out,” you shrug, peeling your sodden clothes from your body as you avoid all eye contact with him.

“You’re wringing wet,” he sighs, attempting to help, “you need to get warmed up else you’ll catch a chill.”

“I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“I’ll run you a hot bath.”

“James, would you just please leave it?!” you snap, “I’m not a fucking child,” urgh, you sound like a complete bitch.

He backs off, finally getting the message that he so frequently ignored, and you hang your coat up before shutting yourself away in the bathroom and letting your body shake with sobs as the sound of the water running from the shower head covers the noise of your heartbreak. You felt awful of course, mere feet away from your boyfriend while you cried over another man; it was a truly horrible act and you were just as upset with yourself as you were with Gwilym in all honesty. The only redeeming factor that you had was the fact you hadn’t physically cheated, but you are sure that emotionally cheating is equally as bad if not worse being as your love had now completely faded for the man outside the bathroom door with whom you’d spent the best part of three years with and had shared in the highs and lows of your life. It was quite the situation you had gotten yourself in to, and all you could feel for James now was utter contempt; the things that had only slightly bothered you about him before now absolutely unbearable. There’s a knock at the bathroom door just as you take a look at your phone to see ten missed calls from Gwil, and you let out a weak questioning ‘yes’.

“It’s Gwilym,” James states, “he says he can’t get through to you and wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I lost my phone,” you lie through the door, “I’m fine.”

There’s a mumbling as James relays the information you’d just given him, then you quickly undress and try to wash the truth of the matter off of yourself.

“I know you, (Y/N),” James says quietly when you reluctantly join him on the sofa in the lounge, “something’s not been right for a long time.”

You close your eyes and let out a deep breath, ready for confession, “you’re right…”

“I don’t know how you found out, but-”

You do a double take at James and his unexpected admission, “wait, what?”

“I… I’m in love with someone else.”

Your chest stills as you hold your breath, wondering whether to come clean about your own feelings for someone else but James continues talking before you get a chance, and you decide to keep everything to yourself, especially after the disaster earlier.

“I’m so sorry but you know things between us haven’t been great for a while and it just sort of happened… I promise I haven’t cheated on you, I-”

“It’s okay,” you smile as you place a hand on his arm to calm him down, “it’s absolutely fine, and I know you’d never cheat, you’re not the type of guy to do that.”

“Are you okay?” James frowns; confused at how calm you’re being.

“I’m fine,” you nod, “I can’t deny that things haven’t been the same between us for months. I’m glad you’ve found someone who deserves you in their life though. Truth is, I don’t. You’re too kind and caring for someone like me; I’ve been horrid to you the last few weeks and I’m deeply sorry about that.”

“No, no, I shouldn’t have been so overbearing and clingy, I know I can be annoying and-”

“James, seriously, just stop. We’ll take the blame 50/50 yeah? You don’t need to try and persuade me that it’s you’re fault because it’s not; we’re equally to blame and that’s that.”

“Fine,” he chuckles, “we’ll share it. I am sorry though, I didn’t mean to fall for someone else.”

“Don’t be sorry that you’ve found happiness! These things just happen sometimes,” you shrug, wishing that your gamble on love had paid off as well as James’, “listen, I’ll pay rent for the rest of the month but I’ll move out by the end of the week okay?”

“So soon?”

“Why delay anything for longer than we have to?” you smile, “a new start is exciting right?”

“Well, yeah, but where will you go?”

“You seriously need to stop worrying about me. I’ll move back to my parents’ house; it’ll be nice to not be directly inside the city, you know I’ve never completely warmed to living in London.”

You’d be away from everything and everyone, and right now that’s what you desperately needed. You wonder whether you’d walked in on Gwil and his ex, or whether it was someone else, someone you’d maybe met before or maybe not at all… your thoughts were torturing you now. Did it matter who it was upstairs? Sort of. It mattered to you. You needed to know whether it was just sex or something more. But it wouldn’t matter if you moved away though, and he wouldn’t matter either hopefully. Out of sight, out of mind.

James agrees to your terms and sure enough by the end of the week you’re saying your goodbyes, packing up your car and returning home for the first time in years. It didn’t feel like a step backwards, it felt like a new beginning, and although your parents were hot on questioning you about what had gone on between you and James, you simply explained that the two of you had fallen out of love and you were taking the opportunity to get out of living in London. The commute to work wasn’t so bad, and to be honest you’d spent the length of your journey getting from one side of London to the other before, so considering you were travelling in from the outskirts it wasn’t too much of a difference overall. It can be tough when you see how well James and his new girlfriend are getting along on social media but only because you imagined that you’d be in the same position with the person you were still harbouring feelings for. Out of sight, but not so much out of mind apparently.

“Hello,” you sigh in defeat, finally answering a call from Gwilym after three weeks of ignoring him.

You were on the train home from work and completely exhausted after a long week, so this was a fragile moment for you anyway and that’s the only reason you didn’t reject the call. Well, that’s what you were telling yourself anyway.

“Finally!” he exhales, “I went to see you and James said you had moved out after you two broke up, then I went to everyone we know and they wouldn’t tell me anything!”

“Well I did ask them not to, so it’s good to know they took that seriously.”

“(Y/N), please don’t ever do that to me again.”

“Don’t do- are you joking?! Fucking hell Gwil, I went to yours that night ready to start a new life with you and you had someone upstairs already! I mean, fuck, you don’t waste time do you?! And now you’re asking me to not cut you off ever again?!”

“I didn’t mean that… don’t hang up, please. I didn’t mean…” he pauses to groan, “can we meet up?”

“I don’t live in London any more and only travel in for work, so I don’t think so.”

“I’ll come to you then. You must be at your parents’ house, right?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Just give me five minutes, please. I’m literally begging you. Five minutes.”

You rest your head against the window of the train as you allow yourself to give him five minutes of your precious time, “fine,” you breathe.

“Tomorrow afternoon?”

“Fine.”

“I’ll see you then. I love you.”

“I will be setting a timer for the five minutes,” you state before hanging up.

You can’t help but laugh at the whole situation as you put your phone away; it was almost as if you were floating in mid-air after going from one stable relationship to the prospect of another one to now absolutely nothing. Maybe you deserved it after the lying and deceit you subject James to, but then again so did he in the end. Maybe it was something you’d done in a past life that now cursed your current one; never to be happy and in love again. In all honesty, you were worried. Worried that you’d see Gwilym’s face and feel completely powerless as all of your feelings came rushing to the surface again. It was easy to appear defiant and angry when it was through a phone, but seeing him in person, being the presence of the one you truly loved, well, that was a whole different matter and you were terrified of falling into his arms within a matter of seconds.

A coffee shop in town is your chosen point to meet and you get there early to practise your stony, unimpressed expression that you planned on wearing for the entire five minutes, then you put your phone on the table when you see him queueing to get a drink, ready to bring up the timer. It was funny how serious you were about timing him, but you couldn’t let it show that you were amused by the stubbornness you had within you. He sits down with a coffee for him and a tea for you, then you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Ready?” you ask, your finger hovering over the start button.

“Seriously?”

“Yep. Ready?”

“I guess.”

You hit the button and the seconds begin to tick as Gwilym eyes the screen nervously before lifting his gaze to meet yours.

“Right… well… it wasn’t what it seemed that night. Sarah was picking up some of her stuff that she’d left and when she knew it was you there she purposely dropped some of her shit on the floor to make you think that she was there for other reasons. She knew it would look bad, then came downstairs after you’d left and made one last attempt at trying to win me back which then prevented me from following you, and by the time I chucked her out you were completely out of sight and I had no idea what to do because I didn’t want to turn up at your place and cause a rift between you and James. But then you didn’t answer any of my texts or calls so I had to ring James, and then you went and disappeared for three weeks and I’ve been going out of my mind with worry! James told me what went on between the two of you so I was frankly quite confused that you didn’t think to tell me because now there’s nothing standing in the way of us being together, and I love you, I just really fucking love you.”

You glance down to your phone, “and you only took three minutes.”

“Rest assured, that’s the only time I’ll be taking three minutes for anything.”

You manage to stifle a laugh at his comment as you bring your tea cup up to your mouth to hide the hint of smile that had crept across your lips unintentionally, then take a sip of drink.

“So…?” he prompts.

“Were you tempted?” you ask.

“To what?”

“Give in to her advances?”

“No! Never. Not even when she kissed me.”

You bring your cup up to your lips again and raise an eyebrow at him, “she kissed you?”

“I was being polite and went to kiss her cheek but she turned at the last second to try it on with me. Needless to say she was not happy when I pushed her away.”

“Bitchy move.”

“To say the least! I was fuming with her after she pulled that stunt upstairs when you were there.”

“Hmm,” you hum, “did the job, didn’t it?”

“Unfortunately, yes. If you’d given me the chance to explain then and there we could be happily shacked up together by now.”

“I panicked! What else was I meant to think?! We were literally ending parts of our lives to begin another with each other, so second guessing yourself for an easier life wouldn’t have been the weirdest thing for me to think would it?”

“Okay, I get it. What now though?” he asks as he finally takes a sip of his drink.

He runs a hand through his silky hair to push back any strays once his drink is safely back on the table, then he looks up at you with that innocent smile of his while his eyes plead to your better nature. Neither of you had gone into this without fully understanding what it could do to your lives, and you were both ready to end relationships to be with one another, him already having done so, so surely this should have been an easy answer.

“Well that depends… have you changed your mind since-”

“No! I want you,” he frowns earnestly as his arms slides across the table at speed so he can take your hand between his warm digits, “I’ve waited so long for this… we’ve waited so long for this. I want my life with you to start now; not a second later than it has to.”

You nod your head at his words and bring your free hand to rest on one of his wrists before giving it a reassuring squeeze, “I was really hoping you’d say that,” you sigh in sheer relief.

“So we’re finally doing this?”

You nod in response, the feel of his hand tightening around yours signifying the start of your long awaited relationship, and he scrapes his chair across the floor towards you so he can press the first of many kisses to your face. The two of you may have been sat in the middle of a coffee shop but it was as if you were in your own little world at last, and nothing could burst that bubble.

#gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee #gwilym lee imagine #gwilym lee fanfic #gwilym lee fluff #gwilym lee x you

[musedblues]

From The Shadows

summary: Gwilym is full of secrets. People in town seem to know them all. You've got to decided who, and what to believe.

a/n: Once upon a time, I fell asleep in the middle of Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds, promptly dreamed this whole thing up, and then told @brianmays-hair​ I'd write it for her birthday. Better late than never, aye? So here... whatever this is, is! Suspend your disbelief and try to enjoy this actual 1950's fever dream? (I truly cannot believe I've done this)

w/c: 15k

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

He didn't want for it to happen... the accident. Of course he didn't. But he did think moving here would be safe. Gwilym soon realized no place was safe. So he settled, and he lived with a thousand regrets, and he stopped dreaming anything would ever change.

///

You couldn't think up one good reason to say no.

Your aunt was an elusive Hollywood costume designer, who rarely showed up for the holidays. But when she passed on, she left her home to you. With your sister long married and moved away, and you parents happily retired, there was nothing stopping you from packing up and heading out.

Sure you liked the place you'd been living in, and your mediocre life there. But there was something about the timing. When had life ever awarded anyone such a bold-faced fresh start without something taxing having been the catalyst? So with the stars seeming to have perfectly aligned, you moved to Bodega Bay.

It was her summer home. A place you'd never been too, but the one your aunt ended up secluding herself to for the last decade or so. If she liked it well enough to die there, it must have been a lovely place. Maybe it was foolish of you to take what you could carry and crash in a place you knew nothing about. But there was some undeniable force pushing you along, a little voice in your head urging you not to squander this divine change of pace. Besides, you could use a little more sunshine.

The ride there was long and silent, as the cab driver seemed keener on training his ear to the ball game on the radio. You kept an eye out the window and watched the ocean appear between neighbourhoods and pockets of green. The water seemed to welcome you, showing more of itself the closer you got to where you were going. But the waves became less fierce and foamy as you turned into the town tucked between the rolling raised land. There was a calm sapphire bay surrounding the place that sparkled in the midday sun, and you realized at first glance what must have drawn people to settle here. It was picture-perfect, like nothing could go wrong. Or if it had, the beauty of it all might've shone bright enough to drown everyone's sorrows.

"This is all the further I can take you." The driver parked near a boardwalk that split into rows of docks. You thanked him, collected your things, and turned to find someone you might be able to ask for a bit of direction.

///

Every day was the same for Gwilym. He woke up, rowed across the bay, and worked until he got to row back home and enjoy the solitude. When he wasn't tending to the garden he bothered keeping, he was working at the shop on the dock; unloading crates from ships, and setting them in trucks that rode to different businesses around town. Then he'd carry the boxes meant for the dock shop into the back room and sort through what he could before it was time to go home, where the quiet was a comfort.

He spoke of business with the shopkeep, and hardly much more with anyone else. That was the way it had to be. As the Englishman gave a nod to the man who gave him work, Gwilym wondered if he'd ever be able to repay the man. He was one of the few people here who treated Gwilym with any kind of benevolence. It was hatred or less, otherwise. And some days his invisibility weighed more sorrowfully on Gwilym's heart than anything.

Tonight, as he shuffled down the rickety dock and stepped onto his boat that stirred with the water, Gwilym was unusually interrupted.

"Hiya." A voice came, sweet and unsure. It was the hesitation in her tone that made him look her way. The wonder in her voice wasn't as malice as he'd come to recognize. But he looked up and saw her and wished he never did. Her features were perfectly aligned and her pale dress fit her form with grace. He looked at her and held his breath for a new reason among the others, and hoped her question was simple; because the longer he looked, the more he wanted to help her, and he knew that wasn't possible.

"I've just arrived and I'm trying to find my way around here." She rested two suitcases down, and shuffled closer to where Gwyilm paused in his leaning to untether his ride from its mooring.

"Do you know this address?" The woman extended a slip of paper with numbers and a street name scrawled in messy cursive. He looked upon it and knew. Of course, he knew the address. There weren't very many paths to weave between in Bodega Bay.

With a quick glance around, Gwilym saw the calm waters surrounding the island beyond the docks. He noticed the stillness of the town too, and wondered what to do.

"Yes, you're looking for a house on the island," Gwilym spoke, reluctantly turning his head toward the middle of these waters. The woman's brows curved up and her glance turned, too.

"There are usually men with boats who offer rides for a dollar or more. It appears none of them are around just yet." Gwilym sighed. He used to worry about letting people down. But over the year, he worried less about what people thought of him and more over if they'd dare to speak out about it. But now, with this stranger, Gwilym felt an urgent pang to extend an offer her way, even though he knew better than to do so.

"I can give you a ride there now, if your going is dire. The others will likely be round in a couple of hours, otherwise." He hesitated in voicing his offer, the only warning he could give without all but scaring her away.

"Oh, could you?" She grinned brightly. "I've only got those two bags and I'd be awfully grateful for a lift."

If this was a cruel trick, Gwilym decided he'd willingly pay the price, for her. She seemed genuine and clueless in his presence. But he recognized she was smart enough, and if she stayed here long, this ride would come to haunt her. That thought nearly made him take it all back and deny her help. Save her trouble in the long run. But she was already shuffling to collect her things with a smile.

///

The idyllic little town with pastel structures settled on the water's edge could only be made more enchanting by the kinds of people who occupied here.

When you breezed toward the man at the end of the wooden walkway, you hadn't known exactly what to expect. But a tall, handsome Englishmen wasn't it. He seemed stoic. Maybe exhausted from a long day. His eyes were a shade of blue you'd never seen the likes of, not even in the crystal waters that lapped along the boardwalk.

He took the two cases you'd brought along and helped you aboard his modest boat with a crisp sail, with one strong hand. If this was the start of your staying here, you wondered what was around the corner. Was it much too soon to hope his face would be some kind of constant?

The island wasn't far. You could see homes and speckles of gardens from the place you'd sailed off from. But the ride was only as fast as the waters and wind allowed. Time enough for a conversation to sprout past the heavy silence.

"So I take it you aren't one who offers rides, often?" You wondered, from the spot you'd settled, soaking up the scenery.

"No. There are a few others, who cater to folks who've lived here for years. There is no one waiting around to ferry newcomers, because there never really are any."

"Then I caught you right on time." You smiled. He seemed to try, but struggled to return the expression.

"You'll want to keep an eye out for Dean," The man said, steering the boat against a breeze. "He's give's plenty of lifts for a decent price."

"But what's your name?" You wondered, in the middle of the bay now, with the most handsome man you'd ever laid your eyes upon.

"I'm Gwilym." He pursed his smile and turned his eyes toward the water and you started to wonder if he'd had more than just a bad day. The rest of the ride was quiet. And even when you made it to land, the man who'd been kind enough to give you a lift kept his mouth shut. He handed you your bags with a cagy grin and pointed you in the right direction as you thanked him one last time. He stayed on his boat, tying ropes to posts as you headed on your way. And though you wanted to look back on your trek down a dirt path peppered with homes, you didn't.

///

It was just like her papers said it would be. Fully furnished, with a nice view. Out of the east, you could see the bay past patches of trees, and it seemed to stretch out until it met the sky.

Sun fluttered through old dusty curtains, and there were even still pill bottles and bandaids in the medicine cabinet. You breezed from the garish pink bathroom, through the steel green master suite to find the halls were empty of picture frames.

In the kitchen, you searched through the ivory white cabinets and found most of the cans of food were outdated, and the water had yet to be turned back on. So with your bags left sitting near the white brick fireplace, you took the key you'd found below the welcome mat, and floated down the path toward the dock nearest your side of the island.

There was someone waiting there, a boy with his feet kicked back in a big canoe. You had that thought again, about how perfect things seemed here, but this time it was paired with the smallest twinge of doubt.

"Hi, uh, would you happen to be someone I could ask a ride from?"  You stepped nearer toward the small wooden dock and watched a young man with a bright smile and dark hair sit up from his boat.

"Sure enough." He grinned up to you, as you paused, unsure of the etiquette of this way of things. "I'm Dean." The boy's smile broadened as he lifted a hand to his brow, to shield the sun as he looked your way. "You must be who has moved into that old Davis place."

"Ah yes, she was my aunt." You noted, understanding how small this broken up town must have been, for a stranger to know your business. Dean nodded and gestured you in for a lift.

"Well," said the man you assumed might have been only a few years older than you, pushing an oar against sinking land. "Welcome to Old Money!"

"That's a funny way of pronouncing Bodega Bay." You grinned, settling on the wooden bench across from him.

"This place used to be full of faces as young as ours. But most moved around the bend to Hollywood. So now it's mostly just old rich bastards, and a few of their spoiled rich kids, here." Dean told.

"And which of the two are you?" You rose a brow to the guy as he rowed along.

"The latter, I'm afraid."

You chuckled at his honest nod and turned to admire what you could see of the town as you floated closer toward it. "What a strange place, indeed."

"Is that all you make of Bodega Bay so far?" Dean wondered, not offended in his asking, but truly curious it seemed.

"Well, so far I've only just arrived and found my way to the island. I would have thought the town abandoned if I hadn't gotten lucky to catch a gent just leaving the harbour." You laughed a little as Dean listened. He seemed to raise a dark brow for you to go on.

"How silly of me to have let his name slip my mind already," You gestured as you thought aloud. "Let's see, he was quite tall, oh and English and-"

"Gwilym? You met Mr. Lee!" Dean beamed, rowing all the while.

"Yes, Gwilym was his name."

"You, my dear," Dean said, looking to you like you were in on some joke. "are very lucky."

Today wasn't what you'd expected in this quaint little village you were meant to call home, now. Home... such a silly word for here. You didn't quite feel at home in the misty air. But the folks you'd met so far made you smile to think of. The bay wavered as you rode along. It wasn't the steady grounding feeling of welcome you'd anticipated to sink into amidst the old cozy community. But you hoped that once this all became familiar, you'd be glad for it.

///

He was cursed, sure, but this was a new torture. When he saw her again... he was glad for it.

She was skipping along with Dean through the trails of the island when they saw him, too. It was her, who rose a hand to catch Gwilym's attention, though she already had it. She was beautiful. Like how the moon was beautiful, and everyone knew it, but still looked and marvelled at the sight of its shine like it was unbelievable.

She stopped and asked how he was doing and he couldn't think up an answer to a question he'd rarely been asked, since moving here.

"Dean was just showing me around the island," She gestured to the bright-eyed dark-haired man a few years younger than Gwilym. His smile was pleasant as ever it had been. Dean might have been the closest thing to a friend Gwilym had known, here, or ever. "And he pointed out your house. Mr. Lee, it's beautiful."

The sincerity in her tone made him chuckle. He couldn't help it.

"It's a few blue shutters between a few tall trees." Gwilym shrugged, shoving his hands in the pockets of his trousers, casting a gaze to the boat he was planning on taking out on the water, as far as it would go before the sun set and his work week started again.

"But those flowers growing up from your back garden that I could see from these trails..." She pointed his way with a grin. Gwilym was in awe by the turn of her painted lips and the way he knew she was trying to get him to carry on some kind of banter.

But then a pair of young friends rode around the corner on bicycles. They halted their wheels from turning by digging their heels into the dirt. They saw him, and maneuvered their bikes to turn the other way. Gwilym was snapped back to reality, one he was desperate to spare this new stunning stranger from. So Gwilym cleared his throat and nodded to Dean, who nodded back with reluctant understanding.

Dean knew a lot, but neither of them had spoken a word about what happened since the start of the year. They'd barely spoken at all, outside of the shop. Dean respected Gwilym's distance.

Gwilym had to go about his evening like always. He couldn't be to her what he'd just briefly been. He couldn't lie. When he managed to escape, and wave the pair off, a weight lifted from his chest as they turned off laughing together. But all at once, as they disappeared down the trail, Gwilym's heart sank. He wanted to laugh with her. He thought moments ago that he might've been able to share trivial talk until nightfall. But he couldn't. Of course he couldn't.

He sailed alone and reminded himself it had to be that way.

///

He used to go to parties. And people would greet him with glee when he arrived. He used to sit and mingle, and dance with strangers and familiar faces. But they all turned on him, and he knew he'd never be able to gain the likes of such company again.

He knew he'd always be seen as some vile, heartless monster. He knew his hurt and his fear was his alone and that peoples suspicions were stronger than their hearts, at first glance and forever then after.

So he kept his head down in line at the bank, wishing he'd shown up when less of the townspeople had. He knew catching their sneers (if the dared to look toward him) would only add to his never-ending ache.

So Gwilym offered a polite grin to the lady behind the counter even though he knew she wouldn't return it. He knew it didn't make him look better either, or change anyone's made up minds. But he thought it must have been better than scowling back.

He prepared to bolt after his transaction was through. And he did. But time seemed to freeze for just a moment when he looked up and saw her. The woman for whom he'd given a ride. Who'd stopped to greet him kindly just a day ago.

She was there before him, again. With perfectly styled hair and an openness on her face when she noticed him. He knew it was better to smile, but he couldn't help but hurry away faster. He had to outrun the way his heart felt light at the simple sight of one ignorant stranger. Gwilym knew she'd find out soon enough, and eventually, she wouldn't look at him like that, like she was glad to see him. He hurried away and wished he didn't have too.

///

You had come to depend on Dean for many a ride. When he told you lot's of people had their own boats, or took the big one into town at six a.m. you almost felt bad for asking him. But he followed up his saying so by telling you he was glad for the extra company. You'd toss him a couple of coins for his trouble and head into town to find something to occupy your time.

That's when you met Maggie. The girl Dean so often rambled about on rides to and fro. She was waiting on the boardwalk one morning with a big shiny hardback book for your dark haired friend in her grasp. They weren't official, not yet. He told you he was still gaining the gull to take her out. But it was clear she was mad about the guy. Who wouldn't be? With his contagious grin and the gentle way about him.

Maggie parted ways with Dean on his way to his job at the dock shop, and promptly hooked you up with a gig at the library. She worked there, alongside another much older woman who was glad to hire you on. Miss Porter gave you books to label, and shelves to clean, and left you to man the desk while she planned children programs and filed fees away. Maggie usually hosted the events Miss Porter planned, corralling kids to think up their own fairytales, or reading to a few when school let out.

It was an easy, quiet, delightful job. When Miss Porter handed over your very first paycheck, you practically skipped to the bank on your lunch break, but came back with a puzzled expression stuck on your face.

"Did you go? Did you talk to the teller I recommended?" Miss Porter wondered, sitting in the seat next to where you'd settled in to finish out your workday.

"Yes!" You promised with a nod. You told her how smoothly everything went, and how you'd even recognized a few people in line ahead of you. The man from the market and some ladies who'd checked out books from you on your first day. And then you mentioned Gwilym. You mentioned how you'd met him first thing, before anyone. Then, bashfully, how charmed you were by the guy. How you'd hoped to see more of him.

"But... he was just so strange, today. Like he couldn't wait to get out of there. Like he didn't know me." You boggled, tapping labels to new books. You glance up to notice Miss Porter's face, the hesitation on her lips, her lingering worried eyes.

"What?" You wondered flatly.

"Mr Lee. He's... well there are rumours about him. And where there's smoke there's fire." The old woman let out a humorous huff of a laugh. "Just- keep your head about yourself, girl."

"Yeah, okay." You gave Miss Porter a sidelong glance and floated along with her change in conversation. She chattered about her own lunch break and the friends she met up with during the hour. You listened, half-heartedly considering her gossip and watching the clock tick until someone eventually slid a book across the desk to you.

"Fancy seeing you here again." A voice rang past a smile, belonging to a boy with flaxen hair who'd come to the library almost every other day you worked, this month.

"Jake," You acknowledged with a tired grin. You never had much interest in his flirting, but his acquaintance had proven to be harmless and sometimes the most entertaining part of your afternoon. The buzz about the library was the only thing you had to look forward to, and more often than naught; the halls were empty and you'd unsort books just to busy yourself with putting them in order again. So, you at least tried to enjoy conversation with the preppy guy.

"Say, didn't you mention last week something about moving here for a bit of adventure?" He asked as you glimpsed to the cover of the text he was checking out. A book on ethics that looked unopened.

"Perhaps I might've." You mumbled, going about scribbling the date down.

"Then why do I only see you here and not anyplace else people our age hang around in, hmm?" The blonde boy wondered, looking to you. You gave him a sorry shrug and hoped he'd enjoy the book, reminding it was due back in two weeks. Jake's smile grew before he parted, as you turned to find Miss Porter watching you with a matching grin. Then she started her gossiping, about how Jake came from a good family with money and charm; The Hollywood type, she said.

She had a lot of opinions about everyone in town, it seemed. You let her ramble, but knew better than to listen too closely.

///

There was your life at the library, and then hardly much else. You came to recognize faces that you'd never see outside of the place you worked. Dean was the only friend you had beyond the confines of the desk. Even Maggie seemed lost to the halls of books. Neither of you had seen much of her, and every time you asked Dean, he seemed just as clueless as you were of her whereabouts after work hours.

So you stuck close to the boy and went to record shops and pubs when you felt like it. Between nights full of chatter about Bodega Bay's fast approaching annual fall festival, and antidotes about your lives before now, you always tried to circle back around to the same subject.

It seemed like Dean might've known more about Mr. Lee than he let on. You ask how he'd been, knowing the men worked closely together. Dean would only say they were both too busy to trade any small talk during the day. You'd ask how someone from so far came to know the quaint little town, but Dean would turn the question back around to you, and point out how you'd come to stay. All of your questions of Mr. Lee went marginally unanswered. Maybe Dean knew what you were really trying to ask. Maybe you were too afraid to wonder outright.

You thought much of him, Mr Lee. So the next time you caught a glimpse of his broad figure on the harbour, you asked Dean to wait up, as you rushed to say hello.

///

"Hey, you!"

Oh, it couldn't be? Gwilym could have smiled despite himself. There she was, taking steps closer over scattered ropes, headed right his way. Gwilym set down the crate he was carrying atop another and turned to face her as she'd already caught his attention.

"Don't you ever stop working?" She asked with a soft smile, coming to a slow halt before him. "You say you live on the island but I swear if I squint from there I can see you over here sorting boxes at all hours."

"It's better to be busy." Gwilym shrugged, letting his lips upturn for a moment.

"I suppose. But I hear there's a festival coming. Surely you'll have time free to waste all your well-earned dollars trying to win a fish in a bag?"

He had to chuckle. She spoke to him like they'd been friends for so long that there were no more secrets to trade, only small talk.

"Uh, no, I think not," Gwilym admitted, keeping his smile and trying not to stare at her own. "I'd much prefer to hide away during the festival." He hoped he seemed more antisocial on his own accord. Like he hadn't been scared into staying in for so long that he prefered it, in the end. Like it was his choice all along.

"Hm, why? Are the games not nearly as exciting as I've imagined them to be?"

"Well, yes that is one reason." He shrugged. "There are usually only a few tents and things. Most people use the festival as an excuse to pack the bay with their boats and scare the fish away for months."

"And you don't prefer to sail your boat somewhere in the middle of it all?"

He shook his head and reached for the crates once more, struck with a sudden thrum of worry, a realization that he shouldn't be carrying on just so.

Perhaps he sensed it coming, the inevitable. Before Gwilym could give a farewell to the woman he'd been foolishly thinking of, he heard footsteps pounding down the harbour toward where they stood.

At the sight of someone storming right her way, Gwilym turned in a hurry. To save her the embarrassment, or torment, or whatever she might receive for sharing a word with him. And as he left- though he couldn't understand why, and he feared the possibility, he hoped to see her again.

///

You were just about to demand Mr. Lee cease being so bloody mysterious and come to dinner with you and Dean.

But his bright eyes tore from yours and floated over your shoulder, and his smile faded. Gwilym cleared his throat and ducked his head through the back door of the shop, leaving you without another word, like you'd hadn't just stood and spoken at all, and were completely unworthy of a goodbye. As you tried not to let his odd behaviour sting, you turned to see what the matter was.

You saw Maggie. For the first time out from behind a book in a week or more. Her lily-white fists curled at her sides, and a look meant to kill shot toward you.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" She spat, stalling in front of you, red with anger. You gawked at Maggie, and dared to glimpse around, wondering if there had to be something you were missing.

"Why were you talking to him?" Maggie seethed, snapping your attention back to her. Why was the question, wasn't it? Why had everyone you'd met so strangely behaved at the mention of a name belonging to a man who was hardly ever around?

"Why not, Maggie?" You pressed, feeling vexation start to burn below your surface. You'd known this girl long enough to feel fond of her, but not long enough to give way to her sudden and jarring concern without your own shining through.

"Let me remind you," Maggie hissed, "Because there's no way you're stupid enough to not know yet,"

"Like hell you will, Maggie." Dean appeared in a huff, "Do you really believe all the shit?" In two long strides, Dean was breaking up your standoff with his girl, not on her side, though, it seemed.

Maggie gawked at him, mouth slack between two rosy cheeks coloured by the chill and her anger.

"You don't?" She seemed to warn. And as Dean started shaking his head, she was set off once more. "Why do you think I haven't been around, huh? When I realized you worked alongside the creep I had to wait for you to come around. I could not be seen so near-"

"I will not stand here and let you go on spreading those vile rumours!" Dean stood his ground, at your confounded side.

"Well, I won't stand here and listen to you defend a cold-blooded criminal!" Maggie yanked her hands from her sides to throw them in the air as she hollered. Then she spun on her heels and muttered curses on her stomp back down the boardwalk.

"Dean..." You asked in a sacred hush, watching her storm off. "Why would she say something like that?"

You turned to the only real friend you'd made here. You knew his middle name, and what he really thought of the best pub in town. You knew he wouldn't lie. But you were afraid of what he'd say now.

Dean glanced to his watch with a heavy sigh, then looked back up to you.

"Got time for a really long story?"

///

You settled into Dean's cluttered kitchen and accepted his offer of a dark toxic drink before either of you spoke. And right when you were about to break the silence with one of the dozens of questions swirling through your mind, Dean looked to you.

"My parents were born and raised here, and so was I. But they moved to Hollywood when I went off to college." Dean explained that his mother passed on from illness and his father followed soon after, old age getting the better of the man.

"They were the owners of a building that was left to me. Downstairs was their place, upstairs was an apartment they rented out. And that's how I met Gwilym."

You took a sip of your drink, and nodded for him to go on.

Dean explained that with his parents gone, Gwilym was his only hope of understanding the lease the men were bonded by. Soon their talks grew common. Dean spent many a night sharing drinks with Mr. Lee, like the one he'd just poured for you.

"To have a friend one staircase away was such fun. We were both in desperate need of company. With my parents gone, and his wife never home."

Before you could ask, Dean told. He said Gwilym's wife had dreams of becoming an actor; a dream she'd once shared with her husband. But Gwilym was left to pick up odd jobs while Mrs. Lee went out to every audition. She rarely landed a role, but showed up to so many casting calls and parties that celebrities came to adore her. Mrs. Lee was always out drinking till dawn with the Hollywood elite. "I only ever met her once." Dean shrugged away a halfhearted smile.

He told you Gwilym was left to pay the bills and lend her cash to go back out again, when she came home tipsy in the mid afternoon. Dean said they bickered all the time. When Gwilym asked where she'd been, she would only shout back, call him horrible names Dean could hear from the apartment downstairs. He said even in his every attempt to ignore her picking fights, it was impossible.

"So the last night she came home, I thought it was like any other," Dean recalled, shifting in his ugly vinyl chair.

Dean said Mrs. Lee's sister had come to visit, and both ladies had stayed out all weekend without so much as letting Gwilym know. When they eventually stumbled up the stairs days later at dawn, their drunken laughter woke Dean, and Gwilym's loud worry over where they'd been kept the landlord awake.

Dean said he tried to ignore it. But after an unusual bout of quiet, the ruckus from the upstairs tenant's came back in a new and frightening way. Dean said he'd sprung out of bed purely by instinct, and opened his door to rush to the second level. No sooner than the man had met the bottom of the staircase did the Lee's door fly open. Gwilym tossed his sister in law out, as he stumbled toward the stairs himself. And if Dean hadn't been there to stop him, Mr. Lee would have rushed back into the cloud of smoke billowing from his apartment.

"The whole place burned down." Dean said, matter of factly. A pit opened in your stomach as you tried to wrap your head around the story that had been unfolded. "Mrs. Lee never made it out. Everyone blamed Gwilym. Still do."

"They say he killed her?" You croaked, mostly alarmed by Deans apathetic gaze.

"He was proven innocent." Dean lifted a brow, and his glass. But before he could take a drink, he seemed to realize something. Dean abandoned his alcohol and got up from the table without a word. You watched him disappear around the hall, while you sat in stunned silence. Your mind was too overwhelmed with thought to process much, before Dean was back again, with a crumpled old newspaper in hand.

"When I moved back here, I stuffed papers in the boxes of glasses and plates." Dean chuckled, smoothing out the page on his table. "Didn't even realize I'd used this one till I unpacked. Figured I'd keep it, in case of moment's like now, I guess."

Past the wrinkles, you looked and saw a headline. Gwilym's name printed in black, next to the word innocent, followed by a question mark. You leaned in close to read the article that followed.

It stated that the fire that his wife died in was a proven accident. Mrs. Lee's sister and husband had told the authorities that arrived on the scene the same frantic story. The quote that followed her sister's statement, though, began to help you realize why everyone treated Mr. Lee with such contempt.

Gwilym may not have started the fire, but he drove my sister mad enough to. It was his careless treatment of her that drove my sister away. He killed her in the end, and we won't let him forget it.

"She started the fire?" Your heart dropped away. How could such hate exist? How were their quotes from famous actors mourning the loss of this woman, and cursing her husband's name? Why did the people in Bodega Bay care?

When you asked, Dean said it was because everyone here had some kind of connection to Hollywood, or wanted too. They were always on the side of the stars, always influenced by tabloids and concerned with the gossip that kept them in celebrity loops.

He said he should have known better, when he moved back here and extended an offer for Gwilym to come along, neither of them having a better place to go. Dean said he should have known the rumours would spread, and how the people in Bodega Bay would react to Gwilym's settling here. Then he shook his head, and looked to you.

"So now you know." Dean said, standing to reach for the bottle he'd poured from earlier in the evening. Your glass had barely been sipped from, but you held it up to be filled further still. Now you knew, indeed. But you were clueless as to what to do about it.

///

The next morning, you'd barely settled behind the desk at the library before Maggie stormed in. She marched up to the counter you and Miss Porter sat quietly behind, and slammed an envelope on the counter.

"I quit." She seethed, breathing hard as she pierced her eyes right into yours. Miss Porter gapped at the girl, and then to you, and when she turned to look to Maggie and ask her to change her mind, the girl was stomping out of the door.

You told your boss you had no idea what the girl's problem was, but realized she'd probably find out eventually, with the way miss Miss Porter sniffed out every detail of peoples lives in this town. So you kept to yourself while you still could, and didn't see anyone you recognized all day.

But you heard everyone talk. You'd heard the talk before. You'd heard his name whispered from housewives and mailmen. But now you understood why, and you discerned what they seemed to say. It made you sick, with worries of all kinds.

So, you agreed to stay late and lock up- only so you might be able to sneak into the attic of the library. There you found collections of misprints, yearbooks and old newspapers. It took until the sunlight started to fade from the dormer window before you found what you were looking for. A paper from the day after the incident, and a few more. All of which spelled Dean's name wrong, and spewed more vile quotes.

All of them seemed to tell the truth, seemed to acknowledge Gwilym's innocents, yet they all blamed him still. For caring too little. For being such a terrible husband. For whatever made them feel better about his wife's tragic loss. You'd read more than enough to be sure of the truth, and maddened by the way it had been turned and used against a man who had done little wrong.

But now, as you kept your eyes wide to see him again, he seemed to have vanished from the town completely

"Why don't they talk about you?" You asked Dean, stepping into his boat one afternoon, after being disappointed to find Gwilym's boat missing from the harbour.

"They misprinted my name in one paper and rolled with it in all the others." He laughed bitterly, rowing home. You recalled that to be the case. You knew Dean wouldn't lie.

"Why don't you talk to him?" You asked more, trying to put the pieces of this puzzle together. A tiny internal voice drove you through this discovery, the same urgent pang that pushed you to pack up and move here.

"I used to. He stopped letting me over. Stopped answering calls." Dean shrugged. You hung your head, and apologized for all the questions. Dean insisted he was glad someone finally cared to ask.

You had all kinds of answers, now. But worried and wondered about Gwilym all week. And then the festival came.

///

It was just like he said it would be. As you stepped into Dean's canoe to head to work, you saw a dozen boats lined up at the berth of the town. And by the time your lunch break came, you spotted two dozen more boats crowding the bay, some sailing, some waiting their turn. By the time you were free to go and see what the fuss was about, Dean waved from the window of the shop as you breezed by. You walked past a tent selling sweets, and another selling drinks, and saw little else besides a mess of people.

"Well look who it is." An unexpectedly familiar voice floated over your shoulder. Jake stood a few paces away, rocking on his feet, looking taller than he ever seemed from behind the desk of your library.

You gave him a pleasant hello, and he said something about how nice it was to finally see you out and about.

"Have you found much adventure, yet?" He wondered. And you weren't sure if he was asking about your time in Bodega Bay, or about the festival that started sometime while you were still clocked in. Either way, when you hesitated, the nice blonde boy extended his hand and insisted you join him.

And you had a fleeting thought, that Jake was only trying to do for you what you'd been trying to do for Gwilym. Reaching out. Giving you a chance. So with a tired grin, you took it.

You followed the blonde boy through the cutting breeze, down a dock and up the steps of a big boat adorned in strings of lights. It was crammed with people in fancy clothes, drinking from dark bottles and twisting to some rock and roll tune.

Jake kept his distance and poured you a couple of drinks. He danced you around a couple of corners, introducing you to people along the way. You shot him a grin each time he gave out your name and drank a little more. The air was cold, but you were warm, crammed between strangers and their friends. The music coming from the boat was loud, but as you shuffled toward the deck, you could hear music in the distance, too, from other boats. Other friends laughter echoing from beyond the bay. And finally, the beauty of the townspeople shone just as brightly as the town itself.

You laughed as Jake spun you lazily around to the beat of a new song. He followed as you kept slipping closer toward the edge of the crowd. He warned you to get down from the railing you leaned too far over when you'd spun far out of the party as possible. You turned and pointed to a couple dancing on the top of the rails, without a care. And because he couldn't argue, and you were a little tipsy, you stood there, too, and let him hold your hand as you balanced along the beams.

You trusted Jake. His intentions were good and his grip was firm. It tightened as you started to lose your step.

///

Gwilym was on his way to take a break from sorting through inventory in the back room. About this time, he liked to sit and watch the birds and sun dip below the sea. He couldn't see that from home. So sometimes he'd stay later, just to watch the sun setting. Sometimes it was the best part of his whole day. So as the festival raged on, he tried to stay out of sight.

But he didn't even get to sit before he noticed. Just around the corner, there was a boat laced with party lights. A bevy of drunken partiers danced across the deck. A man with pale hair and a dopey smile holding the hand of the woman Gwilym hadn't stopped thinking of. Her, standing on the rails. As soon as Gwilym turned and saw, the boy let go, and she was falling in the water.

The boy with pale hair raced from the deck, but Gwilym was faster. Nearer. Close enough to cross onto the boardwalk and reach into the bay before she had drifted far past the surface. It was instinctive, his mission to save her. He wasn't thinking, he was just reaching in and tugging her up, and only after he pulled her onto the deck at his side, did he realize the speed his heart was thrumming and the fear that spread through him.

She let out startled coughs and looked to him with big watery eyes, and he had to ask if she was okay because he didn't know what else to do. But he was quicker to act than he was to think, still, standing and offering her help to do the same. She stretched up slowly, holding his arm without hesitation. He couldn't be sure if she needed or wanted too, but she didn't let go.

Just as Gwilym decidedly turned toward the shop, Dean appeared. He bound toward the boy with pale hair and grabbed him by the shirt collar with fire in his eyes.

"What the ever loving fuck were you thinking?" Dean shouted, nearly lifting the guy off his feet. The boy who'd let her fall tried to stutter a response, but couldn't So Dean let him go, prepared to do worse. But Gwilym called his name, before thinking about it. Dean looked and saw Gwilym letting the girl he'd come to secretly and desperately adore, lean into his side, despite the way she shivered in drenched clothes. Dean seemed to snap out of it, and only cursed at the blonde boy as he stumbled away, back onto the boat without a word.

"Let's go." Gwilym waved Dean along, as the trio headed toward the shop, while the party raged on.

///

In the matter of a second, the laughter and the lights and the music and the fun was muffled. It kept on as your time stalled and became murky and cold and wet; and then it was louder than ever.

People stood and gasped along the marina as the water splashed around you. Gwilym's grip hurt but it was much more tolerable than the chill of the water and the way your lungs burned with the ache to breathe. How long were you down there?

Mr. Lee threw you toward the docks and stood you up, and looked to you as you looked to him, for the first time in months. For the first time ever, it felt like. But his icy eyes tore away at the sight of the commotion.

Dean was there. He was red with anger, and the boy who'd tried but failed to stop you from falling, seemed like a spec in your friends grasp. Gwilym was the one to save him too, telling Dean to go. You'd barely registered any of this happening until Dean spun back around to face you on his way in the shop, and Jake had left you without a goodbye.

"Are you okay? I mean, are you-" Dean worried, holding open the door to the shop. He flipped the open sign to closed, like it mattered. As you entered the store stocked with fishing gear and boat parts, Gwilym slipped out of your grasp and left you colder than ever.

"I'm fine. I think." You grinned. "Yes. Thank you, Dean." You nodded his way, feeling more embarrassed than anything as you recalled the expressions on onlookers faces a moment ago. You knew everyone saw, but you worried over what they must've thought.

It was Dean's sweeping scowl that started everyone chattering again, as you'd walked off. They looked away from you as your friend led you closer to the dock shop, where Gwilym had now found a towel and something else you didn't know you needed. He watched Dean lead you toward the counter with eye's bluer than the autumn sky.

"A first aid kit? I'm fine, I-" But then you followed Dean's pitiful gaze by raising a hand to your head. You felt nothing but a chill on your fingertips. When you pulled them away, they were sticky and red.

"Oh, I see."

Gwilym ordered Dean to go around back and search for a sweater, or something you might be able to change into. You went where Mr. Lee pointed you toward, settling against the front counter. He handed you a towel, and you draped it over your shoulders, willing yourself to stop shivering.

Then, the stoic Englishman rose a cloth to your head, and watched where he cared for, while you watched him. He was close enough for you to recognise he smelled of something sweeter than pine, and was taller than you realized. His jaw was peppered with stubble and his eyes were a never ending shade of blue you wished you could look right into, but he wouldn't let you. He stayed focused on his work, and informed you only had a small cut.

"I need a lift home." You spoke in a hush, keeping your gaze fixed on his own best you were able.

"Dean will take you." Gwilym mumbled back, so close you could nearly feel the rumble of his voice.

"What if I want you to take me?" You countered with a childish pout, still tipsy and shaken.

"I can't." He spoke firmly, taking the smallest step to your side to close up the first aid kit. You watched, tightening the towel around you and wondering what kind of mess you must'a looked like.

"Why?" You wondered, hopelessly. Your question was loaded, and heavy, and it made Mr. Lee clench his sharp jaw.

"You know why." He responded, grimly. Gwilym took the first aid kit and started away from you as your chest filled up in a way you thought felt just like drowning. Your throat was too tight to call out and stop him from leaving it at that- to stop him from leaving you. So he kept on walking, slipping around the back just as Dean appeared with a set of men's clothes, offering them to you with a small sorry shrug.

You decidedly took the sweater and ducked behind the counter to slip it on, while Dean stood guard. You looked to him once you finished, and were disappointed to find Mr. Lee had not come back. So you took Dean's hand and let him take you home.

He had to row in a strange path, away from other boats, so it took you twice as long to get to the island. And the only conversation you shared on the ride was when Dean kept asking if you were okay and you kept shutting him down; because you couldn't say yes or no without the threat of tears stinging your eyes.

You let Dean walk you to your door, and thanked him for it with the last exhausted breath you could muster. And when you were on your own, you let your heart hurt and you let yourself cry. Then you decided Gwilym must have actually liked being so alone. You decided to leave him be, and stop from searching him out. And while you made yourself promise to keep your distance, you hoped that he'd miss your interactions enough to show up and ask why they'd stopped.

///

You couldn't figure who was more selfish. Him, for retaining such isolation, for having little decency to let you down easy and slipping into the shadows at the sight of you. Or you, for stooping to his level. If he was so keen on keeping a distance, you decided for once, to make it easy.

You decided to try and forget the way he plunged his hand into the freezing waters to yank you to the surface before you knew what hit you. And the warmth that radiated from him, as he let you lean in, despite everything.

You pretended not to care about Gwilym Lee, and went about your weekend as usual. And as you went from work, and ignored Dean's worries over whether you were doing alright, you saw Mr. Lee three times.

Once, on your way from the harbour to your job. Gwilym was out, watching a big boat sail in. And you wouldn't let yourself search for his gaze. You waited until you were a speck in the horizon before you turned to see if he'd noticed or cared. But all you saw was Dean racing to catch up with you, and extending the jacket you'd left in his boat in your rush to storm away.

The next time you saw Gwilym was from the safety of your front porch, as you swept away fallen leaves from the steps. He'd ventured out to his own front lawn that was a mess after the night-long storm, and noticed you already done with your chore. Before you caved and met his eye, you spun inside and shut the door, searching to see if he noticed or cared before you let it shut all the way. Then you scurried off to work with all the reluctance of a school kid.

Your time used to be pleasantly occupied during shifts at the library. But now each day you dreaded stepping foot near there. Miss Porter stopped sharing gossip with you on lunch break. She was probably too busy talking about you. Jake had stopped showing up, and your job of taping labels and arranging shelves seemed like your own personal purgatory.

Dean tried to get you to join him on nights at his favourite grotty pub and afternoon rides around the bay. But you were too much occupied by worry and doubt to entertain your friends free time. So you only let him row you home and kept swearing you'd agree to some fun next time he asked. Dean let you trail away toward home as he accepted a pair of friends into his ride, and you didn't need to look back to know his pitiful gaze was still set on you.

///

She looked back. She kept looking back, and that's when Gwilym realized he'd made a horrible mistake... perhaps the worst he'd ever made.

///

You saw him a third time on your trek home, that afternoon. He seemed to be headed toward the place he'd always hidden his boat away in, but he stopped when he saw you, and his sea blue eyes searched for yours. You tightened your sweater around your frame and prepared to breeze past him, hoping you didn't look like you wanted to burst into tears.

"Y/n, please wait," Gwilym spoke up, his usual low, calm tone now broken and weary.

You didn't wait. You wanted too, but suddenly all the rage and sadness you felt flooded your system and made your feet stomp harder up the steps to your house.

"Please," Gwilym said again, turning to follow close behind.

"Can't we talk?" He seemed to beg. You jostled open your front door with your heart drumming in your ears as you registered the sound of his following along.

"You want to talk?" You laughed without an ounce of humour, spinning to face Gwilym as you backed into your home. He followed timidly like if he made one floorboard creek it would spin loose and he'd slip through the crack.

"Yes." He seemed to decide, stalling just past the still opened door.

"I'm sure you only mean that you want me to talk to you." You pointed, tossing your handbag toward an empty chair. "Because God knows you've never had much to say to me. Not even of the weather let alone where you came from." You were nearly shouting, waving a hand as you looked toward the man you'd always longed to know.

"No, I've had to hear about you from everyone else! " You rang, and almost regretted it. You watched him start to crumble, standing still in place all the while. But once you'd started there was no point in stopping. "And I've spent all summer desperate to learn more, but not from them."

"I- I didn't want you to..." Gwilym struggled to explain in a stuttered breath, holding his hands up for you to see.

"What? Didn't want me to find out?" You asked, "Well I did, but all I've ever wanted was to hear it from you." You shouted, hardly caring to stop the tears burning your eyes. You'd read the articles, the tabloids, and the bullshit from warped celebrity minds. But even before then, you'd been drawn to Mr. Lee. You'd seen the good in him.

"I've always been on your side." You said. "Even when you treat me like one of them. Like I don't give a shit about you. Well, I do!"

You watched his brow furrow and his eyes dart between yours. You watched him try and understand, and you couldn't hold back your frustrated tears any longer. And maybe you felt like you hadn't made yourself clear enough, or maybe you were only listening to that little voice in your head, either way, you threw yourself toward Gwilym and wrapped him in a hug.

It took him a beat to hug you back, but he did. And he held on as you tried to stop from crying, and appreciate this rare and surprising moment.

"I'm sorry." You heard him mumbled into your hair, as his comforting grip tightened ever so slightly. You couldn't help but laugh as you relished the feeling of his strong figure finally accepting you in. Then, with every way you could mean it, you assured he had nothing at all to be sorry for.

///

It took a while. A week, actually. But Gwilym eventually told you everything.

The day he followed you in your doorway, he stayed for a bit. You apologized for bursting into tears and he smiled when you looked at him and laughed about it. And then you showed him round your aunts dusty old home. You told him just how you'd come to live here, and you convinced him to stay for dinner.

While you ate, he spoke of England. He recalled growing up there, the differences between worlds, and what he missed most about the place. But before conversation could go on flourishing, the sun set and you both retired to prepare for another days work.

The next morning you cancled the plans with Dean you'd made to go to the pub. And when you told him why, he nearly toppled his canoe over by all his excitement. You had to make him sit back down and promise you'd keep him updated on your mission to be a friend to Gwil. Even though everyone involved knew, on some level, that you were keen to be a little more than friends.

But you shoved thoughts like those deep down. Now was no time to seduce the man. Now was the time to listen to him, and hope to high heavens he wanted the same thing as you.

And that night, as you made it to the island and parted ways with your friend, you found Gwilym waiting up for you just outside your home. You could have burst into another bout of tears at the notion, but you'd already made a big enough fool out of yourself once. So you rushed to invite the man in. But he stopped your stammering and asked you over to his place, instead.

His home was much grander on the inside than the simple outside made it seem. The ceilings were high and there were shelves along most of the walls, all jam packed with books and a few potted plants. As if the forest he seemed to raise outback weren't enough. There were bushes and vines and flowers of all kinds, bright in the cold blue evening.

So you sat inside and shared a drink. After mindless chatter, you started in on a conversation that led to you learning a little more about the woman he'd once been married to. He spoke of when they met and whence they moved, and why. He spoke a little of his dream of acting and how it fizzled out early on for several reasons. He spoke of Hollywood and how he blamed the city for souring everything. And then the night fell and you knew it was best to leave while you were ahead.

"I'd love to come back around when your garden is in full bloom." You invited yourself over again, reluctantly trudging toward the door. Gwilym followed along a safe distance away with his hands in his pockets.

"You're welcome back round anytime." Gwilym noted, his words packed with meaning. You tried not to melt at his invitation, the first you'd ever received. You only hoped it wouldn't be the last, and tried to hold back your gleefully nervous chuckles.

"Well good." You decided, reaching for the door. "Because I'll certainly find every excuse to stop over."

You would have kissed him then, if he were only a little closer. If you'd had a little more to drink, you would have had enough courage to crash your lips against. But you didn't. You simply let your smile linger as you struggled to tear your gaze from his. Gwilym shook his head at your staring and reached past you to open the door, keeping his pretty gaze settled on yours all the while.

So you headed for home, but made sure to look over your shoulder before you'd gone too far.

///

He'd asked her over. He was terrified as ever, maybe his fears had even shifted or tripled. But he asked her over anyway. And when she followed along with a smile, he realized there wasn't too much to be afraid of.

Still, Gwilym kept as much to himself as he could without seeming rude or uninterested. He lingered a safe distance behind as he showed her around the place he'd called home all year. She marvelled over how neat the shelves were and how lovely the old furniture was, and waved him off when he remarked how he didn't pick any of it out but had grown fond of the space all the same. And then he followed her out into the garden, where she spun between the vines. Gwilym notices the moon, as he followed it's pale light, and thought it was nowhere near as beautiful compared to the glow coming from the woman smiling up at him.

But then he was scared again... of what might happen now. Gwilym hadn't thought of the future all year. But there was nothing else to think of when she was around. He wondered where life would lead her, and he hoped, selfishly, that he'd get to follow along.

He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to close the distance between them and hold her closer than he had when she threw herself in his arms a day before...

He didn't, though. But when she skipped toward home she looked back to him and smiled, and he decided one day, he would.

///

It was two more days before you Gwil him again. Dean seemed to understand when you left him alone on the harbour, yet you still turned and apologized and swore you'd call him round for game night by the weekend. He just laughed and pushed you along, and you hurried to catch Gwilym before he'd sailed off.

You were right on time, just like the first time. He helped you aboard, same as before, with the same strong hand he used to pull you from these very waters. You joked about it, only recalling the incident like how you remembered a varied few dreams.

"So you only liked me because I saved you from drowning," Gwilym noted, letting his boat drift toward where the sky and the sea blended.

"No, I liked you plenty before." You admitted in an embarrassed chuckle. Here you were, in the middle of the bay with the most handsome man you'd ever met. And here he was with you, and you were more nervous than the first day of this kind. The excited kind of nervous. The kind you felt before settling in a roller coaster or seeing a film you'd waited a long time to catch. This was what you'd wanted, to be here with him. But what was next, you worried?

As you talked about what led you here, and how you'd trusted your gut to start over again, Gwilym listened. And then, after a few careful questions, he told you what happened. He told you about the life he lived just before moving to Bodega Bay.

He spoke of his wife like someone he'd read about once. Like his connection to her was something he'd only ever heard of and never felt. But he was kind in his descriptors and he even chuckled when he recounted how happy they were for a moment. But only a moment, he said.

Then Gwilym told you much of what Dean already had. How she'd started going out, and treating him poorly for worrying over her whereabouts. How one night Gwilym went to a party he knew she'd be the life of, and found her there canoodling with some famous director. How Mrs. Lee blamed Gwilym for embarrassing her. How he'd missed her long before she was gone for good.

Then he recounted what happened the night his wife and her sister came home from a long weekend away. How scared he'd been when he couldn't reach her. How poorly she'd made him feel for being upset by it all. How she kicked her sister out of the guest room, where she'd already retired to spin records and light candles. His wife scratched the record to a stop and slammed the door in Gwilyms face as he begged her to come to some kind of resolution. He said she'd answered his pleas through the door with muffled curses and clatters, like she was tossing things about in her drunken ire.

Gwilym recalled how it went quiet, for too long. And how he couldn't open the door when he started to try. How he broke the handle when black smoke started billowing into the hall, and she wasn't answering when he called her name. How right as he planned to bust the door down flames curled from the crack near the floor and started to spread, chasing him away.

Gwilym said he scooped up his sister in law from the sofa and tossed her toward the staircase that led to freedom. He said that he didn't even see Dean there. Gwilym only realized his friend had shown up when he reached out and stopped him from turning back to the apartment. Gwilym knew his wife was gone, and his attempts weren't worth it, but he said he still felt like he had to try.

///

He'd never rambled for it for so long, not even to himself or the rose bushes. By the end of his tale, when there might have been a little left to say, but everything had already become clear, he caught a glimpse of her face and the way she sat listening. There was little pity in her gaze, and no judgement. There was something he'd never seen before... and it warmed him. He didn't feel small under her watchful eye. He felt heard and a little lighter for having spoken the things he never really dared to before.

"Why here?" She asked, never daring to look away from him.

"Dean offered. Gave me another place to stay. And a job.  And I just couldn't go back to my family... I can't."

"Why?" Her simple question made him smile despite the ache in his heart.

"I'm afraid of what they might think. If I might not be able to change their minds. And then I really wouldn't have anyone." Gwilym stated simply.  "It's like as long as I keep them at a distance they won't change. I know that's grotesquely selfish." He shook his head, keeping his grin of disbelief.  

"Gwilym," She said, once he'd finally looked to her once more. "You have me." She reached out for his hand. And he held her gaze. He might never come to understand her kindness. But he'd be a fool by failing to accept it any longer.

Gwilym thought things would never change. That his past would always hang heavily and shade his future. And maybe that was true. But for the first time instead of accepting so, he took the chance of letting her in on his greatest fears.

Perhaps it was better to have someone brilliant to be certain of, amidst the unchanging darkness. And perhaps he could never repay her with any of the flickering beams of hope and laughter she pulled from him. The good she saw that was left of Gwilym had been polished, and he wasn't sure it would ever be enough. But he had to try and make it more than so.

So that night, when the wind grew too cold without the sun warming their time on the water, he let her come back to his place, like he promised. He made dinner and listened to the stories she told between butting in to help him cook. He let himself become lost in thoughts of her as his gaze lingered when she wasn't looking.

And after they ate, she fell asleep on his sofa while he cleaned everything up. But instead of pacing through the kitchen like he did when he couldn't sleep; he sat back at the table, glanced to the woman dreaming in his parlour, and pulled out a pen and paper.

///

You'd never been more glad to live in Bodega Bay. Gwilym let you breeze in whenever you pleased, and some days he'd even surprised you by stopping over your place with drinks.

You'd started bringing Dean along, and roping the two men into playing poker and staying up late to watch specials on the telly. Gwilym always sat nearest to you, and shared looks that lasted a little too long and laughs over things you knew Dean missed the joke on. But your friend seemed just as happy to be apart. To be with the two of you. He'd even started sharing chats with Gwilym while you insisted on making lunch. You caught glimpses of the two of them in Gwil's garden, in the midst of some sort of serious talks. And you'd never been happier to see such stoic faces chatting away. It was what the both of them needed.

Gwilym wouldn't go out with the two of you though. He apologized for shooting down the invite so quickly, but you assured him not to worry. You figured he'd say no. But you still couldn't help but to extend the offer.

The next time you managed for a night out and about, though, you came to understand Gwilym's reasons for staying in better than ever.

Jake was there-  with a group of his friends in the farthest corner of the pub you and Dean liked to go to. He noticed you, and started to move reluctantly across the place, like he was being forced to approach you. You shot Dean one stern look, warning him to let you deal with this on your own. Your friend grumbled in agreeance as he turned to go find a table for the pair of you, keeping a sidelong glance on the blonde boy who'd come to face you.

"I'm sorry for what happened, and the fact it took me till now to say so." Jake seemed genuine in his speak, though his body language suggested otherwise. His feet were pointed away, prepared to rush off, it seemed.

"It's okay, really. You warned me, and you tried to hold on." You shrugged, recalling the night Jake tried to stop you from climbing the railing you fell from. It was a scary thing, but it was all over now. You'd started to walk away, but your pale haired friend stopped you from going just yet.

"Listen, I-I know you moved here looking for some kind of fun, or whatever," Jake stuttered as you'd spun to face him once more. "But is hanging around the resident killer really how you get your kicks? People are talking about you, and they don't have a lot of good to say." Jake rubbed the back of his neck as you gaped at him.

"If this is you keeping my best interest in mind, you're doing a shitty job of it." You rang, watching Jake look around to the few people you stood near.

"it's just, he's not-"

"Gwilym is a better man than you'll ever be." You pointed, before turning to leave the kid behind. Maybe you'd spoken a little too loudly, because as you headed to find Dean, you saw the eyes of nearly every patron turned your way. But they weren't just stunned by your outburst. They were chattering with each other as you walked by. Gossiping about more than the way Gwilym's name passed from your lips in defence, but how they'd seen you with him before.

You smiled, despite it all, and were practically reduced to laughter by the time you reached Dean. Your heart ached at the thought of Gwilym having to endure such disdain every time he left his home. But you were glad to be on the receiving end. Maybe the sound of his name proudly rolling from your lips would change their minds... eventually. Maybe it wouldn't. But you were proud, and you hoped defending Gwilym made everyone who never had curdle with remorse.

///

The holidays were approaching and the cold seemed unexpectedly bitter so near the water. Still, you went about your day as ever, chatting with Dean on rides, working away, spending your earnings to keep the lights on and the rest on records and expensive wine to share with your friends. You only had two, but they drained your alcohol as quickly as a family of five. Still, you couldn't have been happier.

You don't tell Gwilym about all the time's ladies at the market call you a dirty sinner for spending your free time with him. You only smiled at them and warned their hatred would send them to hell surer than Mr. Lee would be banished there.

You found old misplaced books in the library's attic when you wander up to sort it out on the slow days. And you'd bring them to Gwil, because he'd told you all the many books lining his shelves had been read and read again.

You even scored a free new hardback, when the printing company shipped out a book with the title misspelled. You toted the new story all the way home, and hugged Dean goodbye at the base of the island. He was headed to his cousins family home for Thanksgiving, and you missed him the moment he rowed away.

But you weren't alone. You had Gwilym. He'd started leaving his door unlocked, so you could burst in whenever you pleased, and you did on many occasions, but always with good reason. To catch a film on the telly, or share some of the better desserts you'd learned to make from scratch.

Now, you rested the new book on his bare coffee table, and flung yourself to his golden sofa, where you started complaining about your day before he'd even found his way into the room to greet you.

When Gwilym appeared in the archway of the parlour, you were unusually caught off guard by his appearance. There was a beard starting to decorate his sharp jaw, and the first few buttons of the white shirt he wore were undone.

"Can I read something to you?" He asked, in such a rush that you hoped his sudden question would be reason enough for your stunned silence, and he hadn't caught you ogling him.

"Of course." You nodded, noticing the piece of folded paper in his hand. You shook yourself out of your staring but watched as he moved into the room, decidedly resting near the coffee table at your feet. Gwilym unfolded the paper and looked up to you before he started to read. Though you had no idea what was going on, you gave him a sure nod and leaned ever closer to listen.

"So," He looked from the paper to you again. "A while ago I decided to write this letter. To my family. And, well, okay..."

Gwilym stammered, and then dove straight into reading from the paper in his grasp. You watched his pretty blue eyes scan the page, and listened as he read the note that started with his apology for going so long without reaching out to them before. Gwilym's letter was short. It was filled with a simple wish that his family was doing well, and that he might see them again one day. When he finished, he looked up to you like he was looking for approval.

"I think..." He said, leaving the paper to rest on top of the book you'd brought for him. "I think I want to send it to them." Gwilym searched your face as you straightened in place and smiled.

"Gwil, that's great news!" You chirped. "There's a post box right outside the library. I could take it-"

"No." He said, loud and sure. Your grin faltered as Gwilym shook his head, and spoke up again.

"I want to take it." He said. "But I would like if you came along."

You could have squealed, or did a little dance. You could have opened the door and declared to the whole island that you'd never been happier. But instead, you lunged from your perch on the sofa and kissed Gwilym. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed your lips to his, and struggled to hold back a contented sigh when he started kissing you back. His fingers pressed against your shoulder blades, holding you close as you kept your lips to his as long as you could hold your breath.

When you finally broke away, you looked in his brilliant blue eyes, and waited for him to say something.

"So, you think it's a good idea?" Gwilym asked. And past your rapid heartbeat, you managed a laugh. Despite your sweaty palms, you settled on your knees before the man, with both of your hands on his broad shoulders.

"I know it is." You nodded, searching his face, all its angles and beauty. Then it was decided you'd deliver it the very next morning, as he stood to his feet and held out a hand to help you do the same. Gwilym collected his letter, and you recalled the book you'd brought for him, reaching for it with a gasp of remembrance and holding it out for him to take.

And later, after you insisted on making dinner, you asked him to crack open the pages and read a little to tell if the plot was of any interest.

With the book in hand, Gwilym settled on the sofa at your side, and muttered through the first few sentences- like he would when you asked about the many books already in his collection. "Better to let them speak for themselves," He'd say.

But now, he kept just reading on, turning page after page by the soft lamp light. So you listened, and rested your head on his shoulder as he told the tale, not missing a beat as you leaned into his side. You felt the resonance of his voice as he spoke, and relished the warmth of the sweater he'd changed into. You recalled the feeling of his lips moving against yours, and hope this was the first of many nights like this one.

///

He'd never been happier, it was certain. But the fact still boggled him. He'd been to places he'd always dreamed- and indulged in outrageous fun with people he'd cared for on days with perfect weather. But here, now, in the middle of his darkest hour, she made him the happiest he'd ever been.

And she didn't even have to kiss him to make it so. That was just a nice surprise. Something he'd been too nervous to make happen himself. So when she made the move, he kissed her back with all the care he'd been saving up, and hoped it wasn't too long until the next time.

She remained close to his side the next day, when he set off to town with a letter in his hand. And when he slid it into the post box, all he felt was the urgent pang to turn and look at her, and ask what she fancied doing the rest of the day. He was stupidly head over heels for the woman, and the way he'd come to recognize the smile on her face. The way he knew she wanted nothing more than to parade around town at his side, yet shrugged and suggested heading home and listening to some of the records she'd bought the weekend before.

The way she'd let herself into his home, and start yammering on about her day no matter if he was in the room or not. How she'd bustle about his kitchen and take the food over to her place for a last minute change of scenery. How she'd make him go out into his garden at least three times a week and insist he ramble to her about the growth of the plants he'd taken to caring for.

How when she was away, he knew she'd be back. How he didn't have to worry.

When Christmas was drawing near, their connection had become familiar, but unchanged. She hadn't kissed him since the first time, and every time he thought of making a move he'd talk himself out of being so bold. But he let her hold onto his arm when she waited up for a ride across the bay. And he let her curl into his side when they watched specials on the telly. He draped his arm around her then, and lost himself in the comfort of closeness, and tried not to worry if it would last. He knew he was lucky to be on the receiving end of anything so special at all, these days. He didn't dare push his luck.

But he let her fall asleep there, against his shoulder. And instead of laying her against the cushions, or waking her to send home, he happily fell asleep too.

///

"It's Christmas! Please open up!"

The pounding at the door sprung you from slumber, and you hardly cared how you must have looked in your fluster to answer the door.

Dean was bundled up in layers with a stack of presents in hand. You could see his breath as he cursed you for taking so long to answer, just before wishing you a very Merry Christmas. Then you rushed through Gwilym's home to find a mirror and a moment to fix yourself up. Had you really fallen asleep next to the guy? You'd been forced into consciousness so quickly that you didn't get to relish waking at his side. It was a bit of a good thing, you decided, as you'd been graced with a little time to straighten your wrinkled sweater and pin your hair back into place before you saw Gwilym again.

Out of all the Christmas mornings you'd enjoyed, this one was already the best. Gwilym's home was cozy, and the tree you'd encouraged him to trim was so quaint near the window, masking the cold on the other side with bright red bulbs shining from every branch.

Dean was shuffling about the tree, scattering the presents he'd brought along and complaining about his most recent family gathering and how it'd ended in a political debate no one won. You floated back to Gwil's sofa, a space you'd taken quite a liking too in recent months. He wasn't there, where you'd left him, but instead taking cautious steps through the archway you'd only just breezed through. in his grasp, two cups of cocoa to match the third and final mug already rested on the coffee table, between stacks of books.

When Gwilym abandoned the drinks, he fell onto the sofa at your side, and it might have seemed as though you'd never left your places from the night before. You found yourself tucked right under the arm he kept over the back of the sofa; as you both watched Dean toss the last of his presents under the tree with a share snicker. When Dean turned to curse the pair of you for laughing at him on Christmas, he stopped mid reprimand and said,

"Oh so it's like that now, is it?" The boy whose dark hair was still masked under a knitted cap gestured between the two of you.

"Always was, wasn't it?" Gwilym was quick to respond, as Dean shrugged and reached to turn the telly to a Christmas programme.

No sooner than Gwilym spoke did you tear yourself from his side to reach for the presents you'd wrapped a month earlier. You placed your gifts in front of the men you'd come to adore more than you knew was possible. And they traded their own with you. Between boxes of ties and cookbooks, and records, and gift cards, you couldn't imagine life could get better than this. Yet you still hoped it couldn't get any worse. And that days in such company wouldn't end, even when there were no gifts or secrets left to trade.

///

By boxing day, you'd had a chance to clean yourself up and sort away the gifts from your friends. You'd properly stored away the desserts Gwilym sent you home with, and had nothing better to do by mid afternoon than to return his freshly cleaned kitchenware.

When you reached Gwilyms door, you collected the mail from the box he always forgot to check and breezed in with the announcement that you were delivering all sorts of things to the kitchen. You let the mail fall to the table as you went about sorting pans into the cupboards you knew they belonged in.

Gwilym sauntered in, totally unphased by your presence, trading a simple hello. When you turned from sorting away dishes, he'd moved across the kitchen and startled you by being so suddenly close. Before you could ask why, you noticed. There was an envelope in his hand and a look in his eye that reminded you of the look he wore when you met.

"They wrote back." He spoke, keeping his bright eyes fixed on yours. Had he expected radio silence from his family? Or was he worried to open the letter to heartbreak? Either way, there their response was, between his long fingers. You gave him a nod, encouraging him in whatever his next move was, silently hoping he'd tear the seal. Another beat past before he leaned back against the counter and opened the envelope.

You stood a few paces away, wringing your hands as Gwilym unfolded a letter in silence. You watched him tuck a lip between his teeth as his eyes scanned the page.

"They say it's nice to hear from me." He sort of mumbled like he was reading from one of those storybooks of his. "And that they miss me."

"They say... they want me to come home." Gwilym's voice subtly cracked, as he rose a hand to run a set of fingers across his beard. You watched as he grinned, and turned his eyes to you.

"Well?" You asked in a quiet breath. "Are you gonna go?" You didn't want to ask, though. Because as much as you wanted nothing more than for Gwilym to be happy, really happy... you'd miss him.

Gwilym considered your question and seemed to watch you think. You held your breath as if that would stall your thoughts and hoped he couldn't hear how heavily your heartbeat. Gwilym seemed to decide something, moving his head as he reached to leave the letter on the countertop behind him. He pressed the heels of his hands against the space, and looked right at you with a question of his own.

"Would you come with me?"

"You want me to come with you?" You asked through a stunned chuckled, wondering if he could have at all been kidding. Wondering what the catch was. Gwilym watched you trying to understand, and pushed himself from the counter. He closed the space between the two of you by raising both of his strong hands, and holding your face in his gentle touch.

He seemed to search for the right words but he settled instead for a nod as his eyes peered into yours.

And you knew better than to say no. When had life opened up such a grand opportunity? The last time that happened, chances lead you right to Gwil. The simple thought of taking another step through life side by side was enough to send your heart into a frenzy. Your boggled mind swept away all logical thought, so all you could do was nod along, and smile like an idiot.

Then Gwilym kissed you. He wrapped his arms around you so tight you couldn't budge even if you wanted too. But there was no place else you could imagine being. He kissed you into a dizzy trance. You couldn't even be sure if you were kissing him back with the proper gusto, you just held on and hoped he was alright with the fact you didn't plan on ever letting go.

///

It took a while. A few more months before you and Gwilym even began to discuss making it official. By then, you’d gotten through almost all of the hard talks. And once the cold started to leave, it was decided the pair of you would too.

"Is that everything?" Dean wondered, still sporting that silly, ill-fitting knit cap though spring had started to blossom

"Hm, should I throw out a couple of sweaters and make room for you?" You asked the guy, passing your luggage to Gwilym who took your last bag to the boat waiting at the base of the island.

"Someone's gotta be here to give you a lift, when you get back." Dean wagged a finger, pushing you toward his trusty old ride and worrying that you'd miss your flight. He worried all the way across the bay, actually; if you'd packed enough and left a key in the right spot, so he could come and manage Gwil's garden. Dean demanded one of you phone when you got to where you were going, and helped you carry your bags onto the boardwalk. Dean even waited with you as Gwilym went into the shop to call a cab.

You said the last of your goodbyes to the friend you'd come to know, confident your connection was one that would never die. Dean pulled you into a constricting hug when Gwilym came back. And after a while, you whispered a small thanks into Dean's ear. He'd been the best kind of friend you had ever known.

"Help him write one of those letters to me, too, okay?" Dean nodded toward Gwilym, as he pulled away from your embrace. You gave a mock salute and let your heart melt a little when the two men shared their own goodbye.

Your friend turned around the boardwalk to wave every few feet, as he trailed off to the shop. You waved back every time, and Gwilym laughed, keeping one hand firmly curled into your side.

"You sure about this?" He asked, in that delightful accent of his, as his gaze swept across the town. A cab was sputtering closer from the highway. You responded by reaching for his hand, and drawing his knuckles close enough to kiss. Even though you'd come far enough to hold his hand and share midnights together, reassurance was never neglected. And you still had lots more to share, anyway. More to talk about. More to see. More life to live, and figure out with Gwilym.

He gave your hand a squeeze before his grasp slipped away at the appearance of your ride. The driver shuffled out of the car to help Gwilym toss your bags into the boot.

"Where too?" The driver asked before settling back behind the wheel.

"The airport." Gwilym grinned, opening the back door for you, and following as you slid to settle and enjoy the ride.

"Home." You corrected, with a nod toward the man you'd come to adore. He responded by lacing his fingers through yours once more and placing a kiss on the back of your hand, his eyes staying glued to yours all the while, bluer that the waters you'd once fallen into.

Moving here was probably the best thing you ever did. But leaving was already better.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

#gwilym lee #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee fanfic #gwilym lee imagine

[assembledherethevolunteers]

Day 23- Gift Exchange

A/N: Prompt #23 for @acdeaky ‘s writing challenge!

Pairing: Prof!Gwil x Female!Reader

Summary: It’s the English Department’s annual Christmas party and you drew Gwil’s name for the Secret Santa.

Warnings: Fluff and Drinking

Taglist: @queenlover05 @theblossomknows

 You placed your pen down and rubbed your temples, exhausted already even though you’d only read four of the nearly one hundred term papers you needed to grade.

There was a knock at your office door. You looked up to see your co-worker, Gwilym.

“Ready for a break?” He asked, holding up a coffee cup.

“Yes, please,” you smiled at him.

He walked in and sat across from you, setting the coffee cup down. You grabbed it and took a drink, humming at the taste.

“Thank you. Just what I needed to get through these term papers.”

“Having a rough time, huh?”

“If I get one more essentially copy and pasted analysis of Robert Frost, I’m going to throw up.”

Gwil chuckled and took a sip of his own copy. “Fair enough. I told you you should have dropped the freshmen class when you had a chance.”

“You’re right,” you sighed.  

“I should let you get back to work. Wouldn’t want you to be late for the Christmas party,” Gwil stood up with a wink.

You smiled at him. “Very true. I’d hate to miss Dean Philips’ annual speech.”

Gwil raised his coffee cup at you and then exited your office. You watched him go with a wistful glance.

A couple hours later, you were at the Christmas party. You had a glass of wine in your hand and were talking with one of your coworkers about her freshmen class.

“I just don’t understand why they all think they have to choose ‘The Road Not Taken’,” you complained.

“I know exactly what you mean. Some of mine…”

“Alright everybody! Time for Secret Santa!” The Dean announced.

“Oh, great,” she sighed. “Just something that I don’t want from somebody I don’t like.”

You laughed and gave her a gentle shove. “Oh let’s just get it done.”

You didn’t want to tell her, but you were excited about giving your Secret Santa their gift. You’d gotten Gwil and were so happy to show him what you’d gotten him.

Gwil actually found you, with a shy smile on his face.

“Hi,” he held out a box to you. “I drew your name.”

“What a coincidence,” you held out your own gift to him. “Because I drew your name.”

“Why don’t you open yours first?”

“No, you go. I insist.”

Gwil shook his head, but started to unwrap his. His jaw dropped when he opened tickets to a play that had just opened in the West End that was based on his favorite works of Charles Dickens.

“You didn’t,” he muttered, almost under his breath.

“I did. You’ve been talking about going to see it for so long and…”

“You should open yours now.” Gwil offered you a crooked smile which melted your heart. “I hope you like it.”

You started to unwrap the gift that he got you and you gasped. It was a first edition of ‘Emma’ by Jane Austen.

“Gwil,” you whispered.

“I know it’s your favorite and I found it at a book shop and it…”

You threw your arms around him and pulled him into a kiss. Gwil kissed you back and slid his arms around your waist. You pulled away and rested your forehead to his.

“I thought we weren’t going to tell everyone until after the new year,” Gwil said with a bit of a laugh.

Some of your coworkers had noticed and were already starting to cheer and congratulate the two of you.  

“A bit late for that, huh?” You replied, pulling him in for another kiss.

#gwilym lee #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee x reader fluff #gwilym lee imagine #gwilym imagine #gwilym lee x you #gwilym lee x y/n #prof!gwil #gwilym lee fanfic #gwilym lee fluff #bohemian rhapsody #bohrap #bohemian rhapsody fanfic #bohemian rhapsody cast #acdeaky’s december writing challenge #krissys writings

[fallingprincess]

offer me my deathless death

*Witch!Reader x Demon!Gwil*

“Have you done this before?” “Once a few hundred years back. She didn’t make it.” “I will make it. Mark me, Gwilym.”

*****

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: So much blood (what else is new)

A/N: I wrote this for Halloween and never finished it. Have it for Gwil’s birthday instead :)

*****

“I saw an awfully pale looking young gentleman leaving this building. You don’t happen to know anything about that?” Gwilym introduced himself as he waltzed into your kitchen and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. 

Spotting the mixture of dark red liquid you were currently stirring on the counter, he dipped one of his long fingers into it before sliding the tip into his mouth. “Virgin blood. I didn’t know it was that kind of party!”

You rolled your eyes with a half-smile, concentration already showing on your face as you slowly made your way towards the living room. 

As soon as you had entered, all candles in various places lit up instantly, casting the before so dark room into an eerie glow. "Students these days will do anything for money, Gwilym."

The demon followed close behind and his rainbow shifting eyes scanned over the furniture pushed towards the walls and the large pentagram marked by black candles as cross points and corners in the middle of the floor where normally your coffee table stood. 

“Tell me again what this spell is for?”

You rummaged through a drawer to your left as you answered him. “I can’t tell you, Gwilym.” After finally finding the big paint brush you had bought specially for this occasion, you finally turned to face him, his eyes quickly stopping at a dark purple before continuing their race through the rainbow spectrum. It really was one of the most interesting things you had ever seen on a supernatural creature. And you had seen a lot. 

“Thank you again for agreeing to do this.”

The demon nodded. “A favor in return. Don’t forget.”

You sighed. “I won’t. I promise.” 

A little uneasy to your stomach, you began to prep the room by dipping the brush in the blood mix and then drawing the lines of the pentagram with it as straight as possible.

It didn't have to be perfect. Intent. It had to be with intent. 

“I still remember first meeting you.” Gwilym started and then sat down in one of the large armchairs that now stood towards the corner instead of its usual place in front of the currently unlit fireplace. “You were still a young witch. Only around a hundred years old. But still young. I remember when I was ordered to-”

“No offense, but what are you doing?” you laughed as you haltered for a second to check the symmetry of the lines in the weak candle light flickering and casting shadows against the drawn dark red curtains. 

“I am giving the reader some background info as you get done.”

You rolled your eyes about his whatever it was and motioned for him to go on as you dipped the brush in once more. 

“Anyway. As I was ordered to check on the witch that wasn’t ageing.” the demon continued, his legs crossed, his hands neatly folded in his lap. “And I found you. And I found the vampire blood. Ben’s. Of course. I should have known after he somehow managed to survive that terrible werewolf attack. Well...you know... now that I have known you for all this time, I am kind of glad you and Ben fu-”

“All done.” you interrupted him before you had to relive the moment of the attractive blond vampire in your bed; that was back when you were still living in the woods in the middle ages and not in a fancy modern Paris penthouse apartment. 

Looking around the room you surveyed the various cats stretching, sleeping, and observing and then rubbed your palms together. “Alright, my loves. Time to leave.”

Without much protest - oh, but there had been discussions at the breakfast table this morning - the fluff balls all disappeared into the kitchen and adjacent bedroom right before the doors magically closed; locking the two of you neatly in the dark space only illuminated by the flickering black candle flames. 

Collecting your inner magic and letting it sit in your core for a few seconds you took a deep anticipated breath and then slipped out of your boots to step barefoot into the middle of the large pentagram. 

With the next breath you centered yourself, sending roots into the ground to hold your magic as you lifted your chin to catch Gwilym’s eyes that were carefully studying your every move, his irises back to dark purple and seemingly stuck there. 

“Come here.” you ordered softly and extended your hand towards him before watching as he slowly got up, removed his shoes, and then stepped over one of the blood lines to stand in front of you. 

Only inches separating your bodies you felt the cold radiating from him and were glad he couldn’t make out the blush on your face as you swallowed with another deep breath before looking up to meet his eyes once again. 

“Are you ready?”

He nodded, his face looking down on you, his aura shifting between black and white alongside the candles flickering. 

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, allowing the magic to run freely now, the power you had collected in your mid spreading all along your veins and out into the circle. The hair on your arms standing up you willed the pentagram to close itself, the fire of the candles burning in bright high fires before returning to their previous state. 

The circle was complete. 

With a smile you opened your eyes to find the demon watching you closely, a passive observer, yet fully involved. 

No hesitation faltering across his face he allowed you to guide his hands towards the top button of your dark green blouse, and he made quick work to undo the buttons, his sharp black nails scratching along your sensitive skin every so often to leave small red lines along it. 

You studied his long fingers as they undid the last button and then tugged the blouse from your black leather skirt. Slipping your arms out of the soft material, you let the piece of fabric vanish into thin air and then reached out towards the hem of the demon’s black t-shirt. 

After a quick consenting nod, you pulled it over his head and then let your fingers involuntarily run over his smooth chest and the black veins running all along it. You had never seen anything like it. 

Your eyes wandered up, meeting his now black irises in an intense gaze. 

Without breaking eye contact you reached out once again and then began undoing his belt with careful fingers. 

After his jeans and underwear had also magical disappeared - although he would find them neatly folded on the kitchen table later - he focussed back on you and slowly continued undressing you fully, his eyes never leaving yours although your breath hitched in your throat when his hands roamed over your back to undo the clasp of your bra. 

Standing in front of him naked you suddenly felt vulnerable and small. 

You trusted Gwilym, of course, otherwise you would have never asked him to do this for you. 

Yet still, allowing a demon into your magic circle and then laying all fronts bare for him, your power radiating through you and around him like a storm turned into a hurricane, it meant a big sacrifice on your part. Which is what this was all about. 

You swallowed dryly and then took another deep breath, the candle light flickering in synch with your new centering of power. “Will you mark me?”

You watched his eyebrows shoot up in surprise as he bit into the inside of his cheek. 

He knew what this meant. He was well aware of what you were asking him to do. This wasn’t a simple scratch to mark you as his for the night and shy away other creatures. This was him giving up his powers for the duration of the spell so you could harvest them with your own magic and use them at your will. This was him trusting you. 

Fiery shadows danced along his face before he nodded and then stepped closer to you, his face hovering right above yours, your breath ghosting over his cold and ashy cheeks as he licked his lips. “Where do you want it?”

On impulse you turned and then whisked your unruly hair over your shoulder to let it fall over your chest. 

“Oh.” Gwilym exhaled as he closely studied your back and you knew he had found the mark Ben’s first bite had left on your shoulder blade. The bite that had started your journey to become the powerful witch you were now. 

The demon’s fingers slowly trailed down your spine only to stop at a point of skin towards the left on your lower back. “Are you sure this is what you want?” 

His voice was deep and rough yet somehow soft as honey and you took another breath before nodding. 

You knew what this meant. You had never experienced it yourself but you had obviously done your research. Only the most powerful of witches were able to bond with demon power. Only the most powerful witches survived. Yet you knew you were one of them. However, you also knew there would be pain, blinding pain. 

For the greater good. 

This would be the initiation into the most powerful coven in the world. This was you becoming a magistra. This was you becoming almighty. 

“Have you done this before?” you asked warily, trying not to let your fear show, although the candle light dimming indicated your anxiety very well anyway. 

His fingers still massaging his chosen spot he used his free hand to swipe a strand of hair back over your shoulder before pressing a quick kiss to your vampire free shoulder blade. “Yes. Once a few hundred years back. She didn’t make it.”

Upon his lips against your skin, the fire flared up again and you managed to return the hold on your own powers flowing through you. “I will make it. Mark me, Gwilym.”

Although you couldn’t see his movements, you still felt all of them closely behind your back. His fingertip running along your warm skin one last time before his sharp nail carved a deep cut diagonally into it. The second cut in the other direction, a deeply rooted X now forever engraved in your back. Yet the worst was still to come. 

You closed your eyes, willing yourself to hold on to your power, your hands forming fists as you tried your hardest to keep the magic from fleeing your fingertips like the silvery blood that was running over your legs and towards the dark wooden floorboards. 

The danger was imminent and your heart sped up instantly when you heard him bite into his finger tip harshly, ripping away at his own skin. 

“Do you have it?” he asked, his voice low and rough, the only sound in the room. He was referring to your powers, making sure you still had a grasp on them, ever the gentleman. 

You nodded and then tensed your muscles. 

This was it. 

He waited for you to take another breath and then pushed his finger into the middle of his marking, his black blood mixing with yours in your lower back. 

You wanted to scream. 

The pain was deafening. 

Yet all you could do was stand there, your muscles spasming, your hands shaking as you found your magic fighting his powers inside your veins. 

Squeezing your eyes shut you felt nauseated all of the sudden, your stomach urging you to throw up, to do anything just to get his hell-bounded blood out of your system. 

But you stayed strong. Barely. 

His free arm reached out to keep you upright, your legs weak and shaking as the pain spread through your entire body, the tears now silently yet vehemently running from your eyes and over your face. 

And then...something shifted. 

The pain slowly subsided and you managed to lift your head to open your eyes and watch the candle lights roar in high flames around you, a pentagram of fire and you in the middle, your powers no longer fighting but instead rendevouing with his through your every cell. 

You took another breath you had been holding in pain and then slowly loosened the grip on your fingers, your nails having dug deep gashed into the palms of your hands. 

You felt powerful. 

In fact you had never felt more powerful in your entire life. 

You could have destroyed the universe if you had wanted to. 

You could have started it over. 

At least that was what it felt like. 

Like your own power. Just a million times as strong. 

You spun to face the demon, your eyes meeting his bright blue irises, the dangerous spark in them gone, his features soft and vulnerable instead of stoic and hard as usual. 

Because you were carrying all his power in you. 

You were carrying hell in you. 

“Thank you.”

He reacted with a surprised smile as you fell into his arms, completely forgotten the fact that both of you were still naked. His arms instinctively wrapped around your middle, his hands only smearing the blood still running down your legs more. However, you could already feel the mark healing. Vampire mark and all. 

You let go of him and then took a step backwards. 

Your body was on fire. In all the right ways. In all the best ways. You had never felt better in your life. If this was how the demon felt all his life you envied him. 

“Let’s get this done then.” you smiled in a wicked smile, the candlelights flickering even higher at your words, and you extended an arm over your head and caught the large piece of Obsidian in the air just in time. “Sit.” you ordered and then lowered yourself onto the floor as well, your legs crossed in front of you in front of the demon. 

Holding the rock in the air between you by sheer willpower you extended your left hand to dip your finger into the virgin blood line and swipe a line along the dark black material. 

“Would you?” you held out your arm to Gwilym and he nodded again before slicing his nail through your skin forcefully. 

You barely registered the pain as you allowed your silvery blood to drop onto the obsidian. 

Using the same hand you picked up a flame from one of the candles nearby and then used it to set the rock still hanging in the air briefly on fire. 

Ritual complete you knew the power draining part was to come next. 

Centering yourself, willing all of yours and the demon’s powers to collect in your core you closed your eyes and held your hands tensily to the left and right, the obsidian hovering in between. 

Using your magic, the incantation rolled off your lips easily and you almost smiled as you spoke the last word into existence. Holding onto the spell for just a moment longer than necessary, just to keep the powerful flame alive for another second, you finally opened your eyes to find Gwilym observing the glowing rock in between your candle illuminated bodies. 

“You might want to close your eyes.” you whispered and he did as told without question before you sent a surge of power through your finger tips and straight into the lava stone, the hard material bursting into a million of tiniest of fragments that hovered around you in the air now. 

Speaking the words into existence once more you centered your powers and then pushed outwards, the fractions exploding ino yet more fractions before vanishing into thin air completely. The candles fired up once more before dying entirely, the room cast in absolute darkness. 

It was done. 

You sat in silence, still smiling to yourself, when you felt the demon’s cold hand against your bare thigh. 

Right. 

Feeling a sad mix of relief yet grief you formed a bowl with your palms in between your bodies and then willed the demon’s powers into a glowing dark ball of energy in your hands, its light casting shadows over your faces. 

With another sad smile you relished in the power and then extended your arms further to push the ball into Gwilym’s chest, his body adapting to the regaining of his power with a quiet shudder as his irises turned intobtheir usual rainbow self and then settled onto a rose quartz pink. 

“Welcome back.” you joked lightly, your hand running over the now closed up cut on your arm. 

He shook his head in wonder. 

“What?”

“You survived a demon mark.”

“I know.” you smirked. “I was there.” 

You bent forward without thinking much about it, the stiffness of the mark on your lower back making you feel uncomfortable and achy now that the demon’s powers were no longer there to blind out the pain. Too late you noticed how close your movement shifted you towards Gwilym’s face. 

His nose bumped into yours and you yelped out in surprise, your eyes not as good in the darkness as his. 

“Hi there.” he laughed quietly and you swallowed down an unusual feeling. 

The bond intact and sealed by his mark you held your position, the glow of his irises right in front of you, the distance slowly closing in the dark, his entire being pulling you in without question. 

When his lips finally found yours, the candle flames lit up high for a moment, before darkness was cast back around you. 

You had never kissed a demon. You had never done much but having dinner with a demon. 

And maybe it was the bond. Or the mark. Or maybe it was just the demon himself. 

But the fire burning bright inside you was so overwhelming, you couldn’t resist but wanting more. 

And more. 

And more 

Hungrily pulling him closer, he slipped his tongue into your mouth as you fell backwards, knocking over a candle in the process. 

Your back slipped along the blood still covering the floorboards, but you didn’t care. 

You could barely work up enough brain capacity to breath. 

Holding onto him, you allowed him to climb on top of you, his hips pressing against yours as you felt him harden against your upper thigh. Hell. 

“A little light would make this a lot easier.” he laughed quietly which was enough to rip you out of your trance and back to reality for just long enough to magically light up the fireplace against the back wall of the room. 

Orange shadows danced across your naked bodies and your eyes roamed over the way his chest was filled with black veins and the blood your hands had smeared over them in the process of your make-out session. 

To hell with all of it. 

Pulling him back in, he eagerly accepted your advances, his lips finding yours violently and instantly, yet surprisingly softer than you had imagined a creature from hell to be. 

*****

This was part of the Magical Creature AU including Vampire!Ben, Demon!Gwil, a fairy, and some other fun stuff. Check out my Masterlist for more ♥

#gwilym lee #demon!gwilym #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee imagine #gwilym lee fanfic

[ladystrallan]

This Love Chapter 10 posted!

Read chapter 10 (Sparks Fly) here

#the great #the great hulu #georgina dymov #charity wakefield #grigor dymov #gwilym lee #grigor x georgina #g&g #the great season 3 #historical fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #taylor swift #sparks fly #fucking lemoniest of lemon

[yelenasdog]

il un a visage gentil (prof!gwilym lee x prof! gn reader)

genre: fluff

summary: who knew the attractive english lit professor also happened to speak french? not his new coworker, that’s for sure.

words: 1.7k

warnings: reader embarassing herself a lil bit, that’s it :)

a/n: hi!! first of all, no pronouns are used as this is from readers pov, so anyone can read. second of all, so i typically don’t write for gwil, but i had this idea in french the other day when my french teacher (sweet old french man who deserves better LMAODSJO) was going over some assignment that for some reason had il un a visage gentil in it LOLOL. that being said, i obvi don’t speak fluent french and this is all fictional! love u, hope u enjoy!!

。·☔︎◎❦·。·

“Hello everyone, and welcome to your first day. I’m Dr Gwilym Lee, and I am the head of the English Literature Department here at Oxford University. Feel free to call me Gwil, it’s what all my students do.”

I slanted my eyes from my position at the door, gripping the frame just a tad tighter than I had been before hearing his voice. I continued to listen to the doctor talk as I made my way behind the last row of seats in the lecture room, trying not to make any noise. My heels were thankfully mute against the carpet, not drawing any attention towards me, the professor keeping complete focus on his students.

“One of the first things I wanted to kind of, um, touch on, is that I will be quite flexible. I understand that you have lives, as do I. As long as I can see an honest effort being put into my class, I will hold no repercussions for late work or being physically late to class.”

With that, he looked up to where I had just sat down, quirking a brow. The eye contact was momentary, only lasting what seemed to be a second, if that.

I cleared my throat, looking to my feet.

“We at the english department are quite proud of our status, ranking 4th in english programs overall in the UK. Now I won’t continue to bore you with the statistics, but-“

I made a scan of the room, seeing how only 1 or 2 pupils were actually listening, the rest either slumped over looking at their phones, or pretending to take notes on a laptop while really watching netflix. (More than one student was watching gossip girl, oddly enough.)

Considering it was only 5 minutes into the hour long lecture, I was confused, as he was holding my attention, at least, quite well.

After about 30 minutes, I realized that my own “first day lecture” was in 15 minutes, which assured that I most definitely had to leave. I was saddened by this (even though I had only even planned on staying in Gwil’s room for a small while.

I sighed quietly, picking myself up from the surprisingly comfortable seats and making my way towards the door. Just as I was about to go, I felt eyes boring holes into the back of my head. I turned, realizing Gwilym to be the perp. I opened my mouth to speak and then closed it again, quickly walking out and down the hallway to my own room.

I made it in, hurrying down the many stairs, past where a few students were waiting.

“Hi, everyone, I’ll just be a few moments, just waiting for the rest of your new classmates to arrive.”

I smiled briefly, before slamming my office door audibly, chest heaving with my back against the shaded window. I closed my eyes, unaware of why I had been so panicked by the brief interaction, not to mention the butterflies it hatched in my stomach.

After giving myself some time to decompress, I exhaled, smoothing out the skirt of my dress and rotating. I placed a hand on the handle, preparing myself for the fresh faced freshman.

As I opened the door, I heard half a knock, before whoever was behind the door (poor soul) essentially fell on top of me.

Expecting to see a red faced pupil who had just made a very interesting first impression, I looked up, suddenly becoming the one with a warm and itchy wave of embarrassment making its way up my neck.

“I’m so terribly sorry,” He stood up, reaching out a hand. I hesitated before reaching forward and gripping tightly, allowing him to tug me up.

“It’s alright, Gwil, really.”

He opened his mouth (not that I was paying any mind to his lips), presumably to ask my name. Before he got the chance, I beat him to it, blurting out my full title, unfortunately in a quite awkward way.

The students that had gathered had mostly turned their attention elsewhere by now, only a few of them still watching the live disaster that was my interaction with the incredibly attractive man in front of me.

He spoke up as I tried to maneuver my way around him to the podium positioned in the front of the room where my laptop was waiting.

“Well, I had assumed you were a student who was trying to sneak off early, but I stand corrected, then.” He looked around my slowly filling space, a slight amusement hiding in his gaze.

“Yes, sorry, I had caught you at a bad time, I was hoping to introduce myself, you know, trying to make a good impression. Feels like the first day of school all over again.” I laughed, bringing a hand up to brush away a stray strand that had somehow managed to escape my bun.

“It’s alright, don’t stress about it. And trust me, I get it. New jobs are scary.”

I huffed, looking out at the sea of judgmental young people that I now would have to face after that fiasco. Lovely.

“You could say that again.”

We sat in a comfortable silence for a short amount of time, the clock striking 2:30 being what woke me from my trance.

“That’s my queue.” I gave a small wave as he walked off, a smile spreading across his face at the motion.

I turned to my teaching assistant, fully believing he was out of earshot.

“Il un a visage gentil, eh?”

She only laughed, nodding her head and plugging in my macbook, allowing the screen to come alive with a flurry of colors in my powerpoint.

“Hi guys! Or should I say bonjour!” I paused, receiving a few chuckles in the crowd.

“I’m sorry for getting us started so late, I had a small mishap. I’m Dr Y/n Y/l/n, and I am your professor this year in the French undergraduate course, where you will have the opportunity to study medieval literature, modern day linguistics, and much more, which I will get into later on.

 We here at Oxford have the single largest French department in Britain, which we have come to have extreme pride in. We also have a french cultural center, where you will find a large selection of programmes and literature to choose from. If you haven’t yet checked it out yet,” I briefly looked up, seeing Gwilym still stood at the top of the stairs. He gave me another small smile, crossing his arms.

“Sorry, lost my place. Where was I?”

-

After class, I walked up to where the tall man had now moved to the side, allowing students to flood right by him.

“Gwil, hi!”

“Hi to yourself.”

I blushed, the feeling of fuzzy-ness once again flooding my entire system at just the brief statement. Odd. Extremely odd.

“That was very nice, I have a feeling this class will be quite popular in the coming years.”

I smiled and nodded my head. “Thank you, I appreciate it, truly. Although, I must say that I can tell everyone is racing to get a spot in Professor Gwilym Lee’s class 100% percent.”

He cocked his head, slimming his eyes.

“Really, you think so?”

We continued to walk down the long hallway, neither of us quite aware of where we happened to be going.

“Oh for sure, I can imagine you’re especially popular with a certain demographic, too.”

His confusion seemed to only grow, stormy blue eyes seemingly lost.

“What do you mean by that, exactly?” His voice slightly raised an octave at the end, earning a chuckle from me.

“Look, all I’m saying is that with looks like that, I bet your roster was full in seconds.”

I paused, the flow of conversation stopping as I came to terms with what I had just accidentally said. Out loud. In front of my new coworker, who happens to be incredibly gorgeous. A wonderful first day I’m having.

We resumed walking, a blanket of complete silence falling upon us all the way until we reached the entrance to the facility.

The chilly December air hit my face immediately, as well as droplets of rain that were falling so hard it felt like small bullets were grazing my nose, which I could barely feel after just a few moments outside.

“Here.” Gwil muttered, pulling out a bright red umbrella and using it to shield us both from the angry pellets sent from above.

“Ah, thank you.”

“Of course.”

Then it was quiet again between us both, minus the sounds of chattering students and the rain hitting and then sliding off of our cover, coming in contact with the ground with a final splat.

“You know,” Gwilym began, always the one to break the silence.

I hummed, turning my head in his direction.

“I speak a little bit of French, as well. And I think you also have a nice face.” He nudged my elbow and laughed, while I closed my eyes and sighed, hanging my head.

“So there really isn’t any other way I could possibly embarrass myself right now, is there?”

He only shrugged, scratching the back of his head. “Actually, now that I think of it, there might be one more thing I can think of?”

“What would that be?”

“Saying no to a cup of coffee?”

It was like I froze over completely, my mind suddenly growing blank when I needed it mostt.

“With me?” I asked, the question more aimed towards myself, a miniscule act of reassurance and affirmation.

Gwilym smiled brightly as he shook his head, and I swear, I had never seen anything more amazing.

“Yes, Y/n, with you.”

I stuttered, embarrassed for what seemed like the millionth time that day, specifically at my lack of verbal skills.

“Yes, yes of course, that sounds amazing.”

“Then what are we waiting for?”

He offered me an arm which I gladly took, and we started walking to the quaint campus cafe just across the street from our building.

It was the same cafe where (not that we knew it yet) the both of us would make many late night coffee runs together during midterms week, the stressful time growing to become one of our favorites as it was now filled with giggles and caffeine. 

Usually it would end up with one of us, that one of us usually being me, leaving a ring of coffee on the other’s ungraded assignments. Or even better, spilling an entire drink on the paper, only a “sorry!” written in Gwil’s rushed handwriting at the top of the curiously scented paper as explanation.

But as I said, we didn’t know that yet.

。·☔︎◎❦·。·

kinda gross but whatevs, like and rb if u did indeed enjoy it. mwah, go eat some protein, take an electronics break and drink some water. love u 

xx hj

#prof!gwil #professor!gwilym #gwilym lee #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym imagine #gwilym x reader #gwilym!brian #gwilym lee fanfic #gwilym lee fluff #gwilym lee x you #gwilym lee x yn #gwilym lee x y/n #gwilym lee x fem reader #gwilym lee x gn reader

[pedros-mustache-main]

a series of fortunate events

summary: the three times the line between friends and ~something more~ is blurred and the first time that line is demolished.

word count: 1.5k+

warnings: language, mention of harassment

a/n: dang right i stole the title from my favorite children’s book series! what’s it to ya?

i. 

the first time it happens is completely by accident. you’re mates––nothing more––so when he asks you to go with him to the oscars you tease him about his lack of a proper date, but ultimately say yes. it is the oscars after all. you find your dress (a pale lilac chiffon gown, only eighty pounds on the clearance rack at h&m), begrudgingly allow him to purchase your plane ticket, and pack you bags. 

after a long flight and full saturday of sight-seeing and overpriced meals in the city, sunday evening finally rolls around. you get ready in the comfortable silence of your hotel room. introvert that you are, it’s easier to get ready alone knowing you’ll be out until the wee hours of the morning. plus, the solitude gives you a moment to collect yourself in private. you’re nervous, naturally, but it’s likely he’s ten times as nervous as you. the thought forces you to get your emotions under control; you’re here to be a support, not a burden.

he knocks on the door at five p.m. sharp. grabbing a pair of earrings, you hurry to the door and pull it open, turning your back as you search for your shoes amidst the pile of clothes on the floor.

“that would be a riot if i forgot my shoes,” you say dryly. one hand shoves the back of your earring into place while the other tosses a shirt out of the way. “could you imagine me showing up barefoot?”

you rise from where you’re crouched near the floor and turn to face him. what you see stills the air in your chest. he’s painfully handsome in his suit, and there’s a part of you that likes his short hair, but that’s not what stops you.

he’s staring at you with a mixture of awe and adoration. so much so, heat rises to your cheeks at his open gaze. you want to look away because if you don’t soon you’ll surely start to sweat, but you can’t. his stare holds you frozen.

clearing your throat, you motion to your gown. “i got it on sale.” it’s lame, a foolish attempt to ease the heaviness in the room. if anything, as his eyes move from your face to your body, the heaviness only grows stronger.

“it’s... nice.”

a moment longer and you know you’ll burst, both out of confusion and excitement, so you find your shoes, slip them on, and shove him out into the hall with a quip about being late.

still, once you crawl into bed well past midnight, buzzed and content, you replay his look over and over because friends don’t look at each other that way and the idea alone sends a nervous thrill down your spine.

ii. 

the next time it happens is barely worth mentioning, but it’s kept your wheels spinning and your heart thumping for days despite the moment’s smallness.

you’d gotten coffee together, caught up on a few weeks, and shared a laugh. it’s nothing out of the ordinary. but there’s one moment––the moment that nearly drives you to insanity––which you cannot shake.

from his place at the table, he can see out the window over your shoulder. as you talk, he watches the road outside, his eyes trailing the passersby. he’s always been that way, a people watcher. you like his thoughtfulness, but sometimes it can drive him to distraction.

you snap your fingers in front of his nose. “hey, earth to gwil. i’m just about to get to the best part of the story.”

“wait.” he sits forward, grabbing the hand still hovering in front of his face. his fingers curl around yours, and he squeezes your palm in a silent message. “that lady dropped her grocery bags and that guy’s about to help her.” 

you twist, hands still entwined, to look out the window. sure enough, an older woman, tomatoes and fruit and cardboard boxes littered around her feet, is helped by an older man. the scene is sweet, like something about of a film.

you face him again. “that’s cute.”

he sits back and shrugs before taking a sip of his coffee. “finish your story.”

as you finish, your hands remain meshed together on the tabletop.

iii.

the last time is happens––and when you know one of you has to make the first move or else you’re fucked––is on holiday. your families have gone to the shore as one large unit for years and this summer is no different.

one evening, you follow him, your sister, and his siblings to a nearby pub. you’re tired after a long day of doing nothing, but he convinces you to come. something about trivia night and the smile on his face, the eagerness in his voice, breaks you down despite your initial protests.

you’re just grabbing another pint from the bar when a hand slaps your ass. you jolt out of surprise, beer sloshing over the rim of your glass to wet your arm. torn between the offender and the trail of beer spreading across the counter, you freeze, uncertain. the offender takes the mute reaction as encouragement, and he leans against the bar next to you.

“hey.” his breath is foul, a mixture of bad beer and garlic. you cringe and reach for a pile of napkins. “nice ass.”

“fuck off,” you mutter.

“just bein’ friendly, that’s all. you don’t gotta be so uptight.”

“i’m not uptight.” you level him a glare and upturned brow. “i’m simply not attracted to anyone who thinks a good pick up line is slapping a complete stranger’s ass.”

“is everything okay here?”

on some level, you wish he would let you handle your predicament on your own. you’re a big girl. surely you can handle an asshole without someone coming to your rescue. but he looks concerned, his eyes darting back and forth between the offender and your angry features. he sidles up next to you, weaves his arm around your waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and gives the offender a once over. he’s taller than the offender, which not uncommon for him, and tonight he uses his height to intimidate.

worry flashes over the offender’s face. he gestures between you and your rescuer with a meaty finger. “you know him?”

before you can answer, he answers for you. “she’s my girl.”

you feel your face react before you can stop it. your eyes go wide in surprise, your jaw slackens but doesn’t fall open, thank goodness. the hand you slowly bent around his back goes hot. 

he’s just playing a game, you tell yourself. he doesn’t mean anything by it.

the offender huffs, pulls at his beer, and sulks off. 

his arm remains snug around your waist, his fingers fluttering over the exposed skin of your hip. you shift, nerves forcing you to look elsewhere.

“thanks,” you say. “but i could have handled it.” that’s the pride speaking, but also the anxiety.

he moves to help mop up the spilled beer. “sure, but i meant it––you’re my girl and i look out for you.”

you still and look up at him under your lashes.

your mind is made up.

iv.

later that same night, you resolve to demolish the line between friend and lover once and for all. you’re tried of wondering and dreaming. you’re already too far gone to care about the repercussions. god, you think you probably love him already. 

the house is quiet, asleep, as you tiptoe your way across the floor where your sister lays on her air mattress. he’s lucky enough to have scored his own room this year. he was fastest out of the car when you parked, and he beat his brothers to the loft above the cabin. it’s semi-exposed––you can peer down over the railing to the house below––but he’s alone and that’s enough to keep you moving. 

he’s awake, which surprises you. there’s no door so as you round the corner, you can see him sitting cross-legged on his bed. a small table lamp shines across the book in his lap. his hair is mussed, as if he’s woken from an unhappy sleep. the floorboards creak under your feet, and he looks up, sleepy eyes peering through his glasses. when he realizes it’s you, he sits up straight.

“hey,” he whispers.

“hey.”

“couldn’t sleep?”

you shake your head.

“me neither.”

he sets the book aside and rubs a hand down his face, elbows propped on his knees. his sleep shirt––a godawful t-shirt with the phrase dad jokes? i think you mean rad jokes written across the front––is too small for his muscular shoulders. it tightens around his back as he moves.

“gwil, i think...” you nearly loose your muster when he looks at you. years of memories play through your head, and you wonder, if he rejects you, what will come of those memories.

but then he stands. he reaches for your wrist, circles his long fingers around it, and pulls you close. you stumble toward him. just before he lowers his head to kiss you, his fingers propped under your chin, he smiles.

“me too, kid.”

#gwilym lee #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee fanfic #gwilym lee imagine #bohemian rhapsody #j writes