#reader fanficiton

[thenextchapter22]

Stuffies

PART 2! Sleeping in the Devildom!

Description: Your first night was an easy sleep, but your second not so much...

or….adventures and cute stories with a reader/MC who carries stuffed animals around all over Devildom.

Pairing(s): NONE!

Word Count: 1,615

Link to my AO3: Click Here

Author’s Notes:  Okay so I was not expecting so many likes for this, but thank you very much to all those reading! :3 I hope you enjoy this chapter :)

Part One

_+_

Sleeping in your room while several demons slept in the same hallway was actually pretty easy the first night. You had passed out in the shockingly comfortable bed after dinner with the brothers (and wow was that a crazy time, you lived alone so you always ate alone and the banter was fun to watch, but the food was weird too) and snuggled close with your Panda stuffed animal Po, rubbing your cheek and nose in the ultra-soft plush tummy of the black and white bear that was about the size of a pillow. You even woke up with drool on her.

The first morning before school you had an eventful time meeting angels. Simeon was so pretty and kind, and Luke was hilarious with his huffing and puffing, but super energetic.

They didn’t seem to mind your stuffed animals, either, which was great. You said you stopped caring what people thought, but these were… immortal beings… so it was a little bit different than normal ‘people’.

_+_

Meeting the Angels

It was the morning of your first day at RAD and the room was full of demons, waiting for the new arrivals. You sat on the sofa between Belphie, who was falling asleep into his pillow, and Asmo, who was looking at himself in the mirror and fixing his eyeliner. Why, you weren’t sure. He looked gorgeous. You wore very little on your face, only a bit of liner and Chap Stick that was cherry flavored.

You held one of your oldest stuffed animals to your chest, trying to comfort yourself as best as you could. Meeting the Demons first was so shocking you didn’t realize how much it would have helped to have a soft or squishy friend in your arm until now.

Then, they strolled into the room. Lucifer stood to greet them, nodding his hellos, while you stared in awe. They gave off an aura that was so beautiful. Not a visible one, but it was like your soul was brighter, and your eyes were more open.

There were two of them, one was taller with dark hair, and the other shorter with blonde hair. Both wore white outfits, but had no wings which was sad. But you had only seen a few demonic forms so far—Lord Diavolo, Barbatos, his butler, and Lucifer, when you first came yesterday—so it wasn’t that surprising they would look human. It was probably easier to maneuver in hallways without huge wings or appendages like tails.

“And this is our newest human student.”

Oh, you were being introduced. You stood up and nodded your head, smiling a little shakily at them as Lucifer gestured to you. “It’s so nice to meet you!”

Simeon, the angel who seemed to know Lucifer after watching how they interacted, gave you a handshake that was elegant in the way he held your own hand like you were a princess or something. “A pleasure to meet you as well.”

The smaller one, named Luke, glanced up at you with a wide grin and said something of the same, but didn’t shake your hand. “You’re so pretty! And—oh, what is that? Is that a dog? You brought a dog to the Devildom?! Simeon, I want to bring a pet, pleeease?” He turned his eyes to the taller angel and begged.

Simeon chuckled. He pat Luke’s little head and the blonde haired angel huffed. “Celestial Pets would not survive here unfortunately. And I don’t think it’s a real dog, Luke.”

You shook your head. “Nope, it’s my stuffed animal. His name’s Fido. I know, super original, but I’ve had him since I was a kid.” You held him out for them to see. He was about 10 inches and was squeezable, and you felt he was perfect to take on your first day at RAD.

Simeon smiled kindly. “He’s lovely. Do you have others?”

Mammon spoke up from his place behind you on a separate piece of furniture. “Oh yea, loooads of ‘em. The entire bedroom is full, it’s insane.”

There was a smack, then a moan from the Greed Demon. “Shut up, Mammon, you insensitive prick,” Satan spoke up. “We’ve all got our collections.”

You were surprised Satan defended you but also happy about it. Knowing Mammon from the breakdown you had yesterday, he probably didn’t mean it to be insensitive, he just spoke before thinking.

“Well, then, I look forward to seeing more of your collection.”

Luke agreed. “Oh, me too! Do you have any with wings? Like a dove, or a peacock, or what about a flamingo!?”

And you all chatted for a bit, and you felt pretty excited for your first day. You were told you were going to meet one more person at RAD, and it had you giddy. Would they be just as kind? You hoped…

_+_

So yes, the first night was good, but after your first day at RAD—and that was a whole other story on craziness that included being overloaded with information on demon history and new math you would probably be terrible at, and also potions was a scary subject because you immediately thought of Harry Potter, and not to mention the many, many demons looking at you and probably wanting to either eat you or kill you—you just could not shut your eyes the second night.

It was past 11pm, the second day of school was tomorrow, and you had to get a good night’s sleep. It was obvious Lucifer demanded good grades from everyone. Sleep was an important part of that.

Maybe an almost midnight snack would help?

So you got up, put on a sweater over your long sleeved pajamas because it was pretty cold here at night, put your fuzzy pink slippers on, tucked Po under your arm, and went down the hallway as quiet as a mouse. You had a surprisingly good memory of places, and mazes were easy for you, and seeing as this house was a maze you found the kitchen quick.

You poured yourself a glass of milk—it looked like milk, and smelled like it, so you prayed it was milk—and sat on the barstool drinking it. Warm milk would be better, or tea, but you didn’t want to open cupboards and have anything bang or start the oven or stove, it looked way different from the ones at home.

There was a flickering of light in the corner of your eyes. You followed it to a room with books stacked high along the walls, and a couch and chairs around a fire going all by itself with brick towering above. Magic, perhaps, kept it burning.

The couch facing it directly was cozy looking so you sat on it, and sipped your milk staring into the hearth. Fire danced in your eyes and it hypnotized you. The warmth was great, and cascaded over your body like you were sunbathing. You liked the sun but heat without light was better, and this was perfect.

You found your eyes shutting and quickly placed Po beneath your head and yawned. Then you drifted into dreamland for a while, the heartbeat of the fire lulling you.

A soft touch on your body woke you up from slumber. The fire was blocked by a body, and your eyes opened and you glanced up to see Belphegor with his own black and white companion, his pillow, and noticed a blanket thrown over your body.

“The fire goes out at 4am, so you’ll get cold,” he said monotonously, then went to the next couch over and copied your position of laying on your side cuddled to your panda stuffie but him with his pillow instead, and you watched as he transformed in the blink of an eye. He was like a cow-hybrid, and had the tail just like one. He also had curled up horns, and you remember seeing those on other transformed demons. Was that a trait they all had?

His eyes glowed purple when he looked at you, mesmerizing like the fire but in a different sense. “Sleep, it’s late,” he said, curling his tail over himself like a small blanket.

And you did sleep, sort of instantly, too, the Sloth Demon following suit. It was probably one of the best nights of sleep you had in a long time.

_+_

“Aahhh~~ So cuuuteee!!”

The sound of photos being taken from a phone, and the squealing, woke you up. It felt too early, and you groaned, pressing your entire face into Po. “Uhhh, noo mom, please turn off the lights,” you begged.

A soft coo, then a poke to your cheek. “Aw, sweetie, it’s time to get up, although I hate to move you looking so darn adorable.”

You blinked away sleep and groaned, rolling your head back to see Asmodeus standing over you, dressed for the day in his uniform, and his D.D.D in hand, and still snapping pictures of you with it.

You covered your face with one hand. “No, stop,” you sleepily pleaded. “Too early, ‘m ugly.”

He shushed you and tapped your hand until it moved, and giggled when you cried as he took another picture. “You’re second to me in beauty, darling, don’t say such things! You and your cute little stuffed Panda bear, this is Devilgram worthy~”

There was a soft chuckle, and you shot your head over to see Belphie laughing at your face. “Beware, Asmo will post that almost instantly.”

“Already done!” the Lust avatar declared. “You’re famous, my dear~” he winked.

“You guys are so mean,” you pouted, shoving your face into Po. But little did they know, you were smiling the entire time.

[likesomekindofcheese]

At the Opera (Part one)

Pairing: Brian May x F! Singer! Reader.

Fluff! Lot’s of fluff! A bit of angst!

Word Count: 2,000

Content warning: swearing, mentions of boners, Reader and Brian being twice shy, nervous little beans

Context: Brian see’s you make your first big opera debut at school. He falls immediately in love with you. He’s scared of seeming like a creeper, though, and hopes he doesn’t...Switches between his perspective and yours.

Note: I am so excited about this fic I can’t stand it!!!!

First off, I imagine this takes place in the early seventies after Queen I or Queen II and before A Night at the Opera (heh) is released. Secondly, though is written to identify as female, use she/her pronouns, an opera singer, a student, and a soprano, if requested, I can make and send a different version to you. Maybe a reader who is in a musical! Or a straight play! Or is singing a mezzo role! Or a male reader! (etc.). Message me ASAP and I will message a version to you! with your desired version! A second part will be up in time and will probably stop there unless another idea comes. Enjoy and please leave feedback!

Brian had absolutely nothing else to do on a Friday evening except go by himself to an opera by a local University. It was a night where nothing was happening. No work. No papers to grade. No rehearsal. Nothing planned between the band members or his friend. He had those nights before. He was unusually restless. Instead of dwelling in his loneliness he thought he might as well go out. Get his mind from any sadness. And something a little different then heavy drums would be appreciated.

He looked down at the program once he got his seat. “Puccini’s Gianni Schicchi.” According to the summary in his encyclopedia it was only an hour long. If he didn’t like it, it would be over in a wink. After all, when he visited Freddie’s place once he noticed a record of it standing on top of a pile. If it was good enough for Freddie, then it was worth the ticket.

 (You)

“Five minutes until the top!”

“Thank you, five!”

You stay still. You don’t really feel like talking to the other cast members. You smooth some of the white skirt and pray that the food crumble from the pre-performance snack doesn’t show. You were nervous. Tonight you were singing Lauretta in Schicchi for the first time- Lauretta! All of the sopranos in the school who it could have been and it was you! It didn’t matter that it was  not one of the mainstage operas put on with a budget of millions and the biggest stage offered. It was one of your first major roles and you were doing everything you could not to burst. You had barely slept last night from the anticipation and the toll of exhaustion mixed with excitement were bubbling. 

Any wishes of good luck from the cast and crew were forgotten.

“What if the high c’s at the end sound like crap because I was stupid enough not to be able to sleep last night and what…”

“Places for top!”

You took a deep breath, listened to the slow beginning of the overture, and did your best to focus on the story and telling it.

You could still smell the hairspray from your curled hair. The director asked for a more “natural” look to contrast Lauretta from the more exaggerated commedia-esque stock characters and yet it took you longer to do your hair and make-up because your hands were shaking so bad. You wanted to look like the flawless ingenue, but you felt briefly that you were just a toad in lipstick. How could anyone onstage believe you?

It was a while before you entered. Yet you stayed backstage, focusing on the meaning of every last note and word. The singer playing your onstage father, the titular Schicchi, walked up to prepare for your first entrance.  You both didn’t appear until twenty minutes in, but it was getting close.

He smiled and winked at you and then went into character with his smart, cynical frown. You took my place next to him, held the skirt of your white medieval gown as demurely as you could muster, and prepared for the sound cue to enter.

Once you entered, you carried on, just like in rehearsal. Reacting in the moment and singing with the clearest Italian you could and with as much focus on breath as possible. At one point, when Rinuccio, your onstage lover, held your hands, you both began to wail beautifully about how you both could not be married on May Day. You indulged a look away from the conductor to the audience. 

 It was a smaller theatre-actually the smallest theatre on the campus that could still allow a piano and a string quartet.  Plenty of old couples, college girls with long hair and red lips, and close to the middle, there was a very tall, thin, young man with a lion’s mane of curly, brown hair. Ironically, he seemed to be more into the opera than anyone else.

You were back in a second to the opera. You heard  Schicchi’s “Non! Non! Non!”

Naturally, you begin singing your aria, “O mio babbio caro...”

(Bri)

Though Brian was delighted by the opera by the first note and laughing at the onstage family’s antics and allowing the music to charm him.

Then you entered onstage.

“Her eyes are so pretty and expressive…and she’s so small, she’s like a baby bird, oh, if only she was a little bird or even a cat I could hold in my hands for just a minute and her hair seems so soft, and, oh…that smile, oh she’s smiling, that fucking smile, she’s so beautiful and adorable, oh hell, oh hell. Oh fuck, and that voice, oh fuck, that voice. It’s so gorgeous and warm and genuine, oh, I’m so sorry Fred, but oh fuck, that voice, if only she could look at me, please look at me, please look at me and sing for me, just one word, please”

You crossed to a man - who was supposed to be her lover. Brian suddenly felt his stomach drop and his face twist to a frown.

“You git, it’s make believe. They aren’t together in real life...I hope they aren’t

He tried to peel his eyes away to another cast member to see what else they would do onstage that would amuse him. But he kept finding he was stealing quick glances.

When you began your aria, he felt tears well up in his eyes. It was so sweet sounding. 

“O mio babbino caro! Mi piace, e bello, bello!”

He looked down at the translation program:

“Oh my dear papa! He pleases me, he is handsome!”

Brian had a sudden wish he was that boy. He felt the tears fall once he heard of Lauretta’s wish to die if she could not marry him.

“No , no, not you, the boy…”

(You)

You finished the aria. Looking into the audience, You were shocked to see a standing ovation.

Well, that is, one standing ovation. From the tall man with curly hair. And he was applauding like his life depended on it. A few others decided to follow suit and stood up to applaud and cheer. You did your best not to smile. Then once it had died down, Schicchi continued with his line- “Datemi il testamento!”

(Bri)

Brian sat down. He was flushed with embarrassment. How could he have been so…so much? But it was just so wonderful. 

He was sighing once Schicchi sent Lauretta away and you left the stage.

He kept staring at the space where she left. He liked the plot of the opera well enough, but he felt himself leaning forward in his seat with impatience.

Once you  appeared onstage for the last duet of triumph with Rinuccio, He was wondering if that man realized how lucky he was. 

 “I would wrap my arms around her l. I would hold her so tight that she would know she is safe, and everything is alright, now. I would look into those eyes looking up at me, I would pull her in, and then I would lean down so I can reach her lips and kiss…”

He pinched his own hand. “Focus, focus, the story is ending…wait…oh god, what if I have a stiffy! Shit! Shitshitshithshitshit!”

He looked down at his pants. Nothing was showing…that was obvious, at least. He had stopped himself before letting his fantasies go further. Still, he undid two buckles on his belt, just to be safe.

He looked down at the program, flipping to the cast list on the second page.

“Lauretta…(Y/F/N Y/L/N)”

(You)

The cast and crew gathered in the lobby for everyone to say their congratulations. You felt a ping of sadness that your family and friends could not make it. The most they could do was send some flowers, dangling in your arms.

You saw him stand a little in the corner, awkardly. He seemed very quiet. You glanced up at him and felt him glance up at you and your eyes shot back down. Then you looked back up and saw him look down. He was definitely close to your age. 

Finally, you locked eyes for a bit. He swiftly walked to you and the flowers trembled in your arms. You wanted to run behind the stage door and slam it shut, yet at the same time you didn’t.

He walked up and said “Hi, I’m Brian, Brian May.”

“Hi Brian, I’m Y/N.”

Is someone actually approaching me???? And starting the conversation?? 

“ I just wanted to let you know, you were astounding. Your song was my favorite part…and this was my first opera!” Brian said

“Oh wow! Schicchi’s a great first opera.” you say, swallowing. “It’s a comedy, after all, and most people don’t think of opera’ as funny.”

“I loved it! I laughed so much! How do you keep from laughing onstage?”

“I breathe really slowly and focus, Brian.” You dropped his name and froze.

Wow, I must seem forward. But I don’t want to forget it...

“That’s wonderful, and the music is just, just incredible! What is it like to sing it?” he asked.

Your brain began to spiral from your shyness and desperation to seem confident.

“It’s very…it’s, I don’t know, it’s intimidating. My voice is rather small for Puccini, he likes bigger voices, so I was really nervous doing this role. My legs were shaking all the time onstage.”

 It struck you how handsome Brian really was. His height and hair made him seem intimidating, but his smile and eyes were soft, nonthreatening. His hair framed his cheekbones in a way that made him beautiful, in his own way. And when he reached his hands out and stretched out his fingers, they moved as fluidly as a dancers. His speaking was gentle, almost quiet, but clear. Like a kindly fairy prince.

“I couldn’t tell!” he said. He added a smile that made you feel like you were hit by a train.

“It’s the dress! Really! Our costume people were geniuses” you say.

You began feeling self-conscious-didn’t want to appear weird or snobby or ugly to him.

“But you seemed so…so calm and confident. I’m a musician, but uhm…I’m not a classical musician, you could say. But my friend loves opera, so I decided to try it. So I know what it’s like to be nervous about how you do, you were incredible.” Brian adds, folding his arms.

“A musician! Do you play anything or sing!?” You say, it would be polite to steer the conversation towards him.

“Both…uhm…” he crawled in a little “I do sing, and there’s a lot I play, but the guitar is my favorite.”

Guitars, guitars, what can I say to him that would be interesting about guitars? 

“I…I like guitars. It’s such a soothing sound.”

Brilliant, you idiot girl 

“Do you play?” you add, hoping for a save.

He just said he played, crap,  he’s gonna laugh at me.

“Er, yes, yes I do!” He smiled genuinely  

“I play in a band, and I do lots but usually it’s electric guitar. Is there any instrument you play, Y/N?”

“I struggle with piano. I love the sound, but I don’t know how to really play it. Most of the time, I pluck out melodies. It’s partly how I learned this role.” you say. Your face got hot and you felt red as an apple.

“I could maybe…”

There were some clicks, the lights in the back were going out. People were clearing out of the lobby. 

“Well, it’s closing…we have another performance tomorrow.” you add on.

“Any others?” Brian asked. He began to stroke his chin in fascination.

“No, just two… You could tell your friends about it.” You said,

“I will” Brian said.

“Same time, same place.” You remind him, feeling a tiny, shy grin on your face.

There was a little pause.

“Thank you for talking with me, Brian, it means a lot, since it’s my first big role” you blurt quickly. You didn’t want to get locked out of the theater by accident.

“I enjoyed tonight a lot, Y/N...”

“Goodbye, Brian.”

Goodbye Y/N.”

You turned around and walked out.  You realized you were the last to turn in your costume, change, and leave the theater. You were happy with how you sang, but you felt sad. You wished you could see that kind, handsome man again...Maybe you never would. 

(Bri)

Brian couldn’t go to sleep and kept tossing and turning in his bed.

Just one more performance…

He had to go. But he was… was frightened. You were so beautiful and  caring that he didn’t know if he could survive a second meeting without exploding from nerves. You would think he was a creep and the thought of it made him nauseous. He couldn’t go.

At least, not alone.

There was rehearsal tomorrow. He could leave a little early and still arrive to the theater on time. There was enough time to talk one of them, at least, to go...

Deacy would shy away. He would be too worried and his worry would pile onto Brian’s worry until they were a mess.

Roger?

- rather be shot than go to an opera.

 Besides, Roger would guess the real reason Brian wanted to go. The thought of Roger wolf-whistling at you during your aria made him want to crawl under a rock.

That left only one member of the band, then. The one that could help him.

And naturally, the opera fan among them.

[queen-paladin]

How I Loved You, How I Cried

Context: Gwiylim Lee x F! Reader. A few minutes after your virginity loss to Gwilym and their first night together, (Y/N) feels the courage to confess something personal from her past to him and let him know about a personal trauma... Angst/Fluff

CONTENT WARNINGS: mentions of sex, swearing, sexual assault, not the world’s best grammar.

(I have been a fanfiction reading stan on this site for months and now it is my turn to share what I myself wrote! Hello there! This is the not the first fanfic I have ever written, but definitely the first Bohrap cast fanfiction I have written. The original came in two parts and I am hesitant to post the first one with the actual v-card loss and sexytimes in it, unless asked for so maybe ? a ? oneshot ? I would personally love to thank the support I have gotten for this decision to post my own Bohrap/Queen writing online. I will give copyrights to @theborhapboysawakenedmywhatever for a little bit of inspiration in the beginning from the Aftercare headcanons. Also tagging @sohoneyspreadyourwings and @musicalprostitue for the encouragement today...so here we go! Other fics to come soon!

Also, I read or saw somewhere Gwilym was Cassio in Othello in a stage production at some point, but if I am wrong, let me know immediately and I will fix it. And if I am right, someone please say so and tell me what other Shakespeare he has done. Because I am curious. Maybe it may play into some future fics *wink*)

You lie panting for a little bit, now that the climax has tizzied away. You hear Gwil next to you, doing the same. You start to get up on your elbows.

“Let me go get you-”

“Oh no, you don’t have to. You’re the one new to this. Please let me take care of you, let me hold you.”

“Okay.”

He pulls a soft, grey blanket scrunched in a corner of the duvet and wraps it over you like a cape. You feel one of his arms scoop under you and the other around you and you do the same. He nuzzles his face in your hair and you in his chest, smelling his soap. Both of you silently play footsie for a bit, giggling like children for a second. He’s so tall you had to stretch your toes to reach his until you give up and use part of your foot to gently poke his shin.

“How was I?” you ask.

“You were incredible, Y/N”

“Thank you, for everything you did for me tonight” you say, nuzzling his chest a bit. 

“You’re welcome” he says. You feel his hand reach your back and trace bits of your spine and ribs. You start to lightly tickle what chest hairs you see and trace figure eights.

“Fy cariad bach, my little goddess, Rydych yn hardd, my sweet bird” he whispers.

Eventually he lets go and you feel a bit of coolness. The blanket drapes off some of him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Gwil goes to put on some blue boxers and offers you some of his that can fit you and an old, white t-shirt. It’s not your most fashionable look, but neither of you care. 

A sudden urge hits you. If you don’t talk about it now, you don’t think you ever will.

“Now that we’ve done this, Gwilym...” you say. He perks a bit at the mention of his fuller name. 

“There’s something I’d like to tell you. But could you hold me again while I talk about it...I mean, like spoon me?” you ask. It would be easier if you couldn’t feel the pressure to make eye contact or see his face.

“Yes”

You turn over to face the wall and the bedside desk. A couple of the leftover rose petals tumble in your hair and a couple rest in your peripheral vision. He was so sure you were comfortable tonight he made the effort to decorate the bed with rose petals. You feel his arms wrap around your stomach and his chin on your head. You take a deep breath, enjoying the moment. Outside,birds are chirping a little in the night. A fan in the room was turned on in the midst of the scramble for comfy clothes and it purrs and blows cool air. You take five seconds to enjoy it before you begin.

 “I told you I am-was a virgin. And it’s true. But only technically true. Everything I am about to tell you really happened. Please believe me.”

You sigh deeply. Then you feel ready to relive it one more time.

“There was another boy. He was my cousin. It was Easter and the family were all together after church. When everyone was preoccupied, he took me to the guest bedroom. He asked me to take my clothes off. I did. Then he took off his. He led me to the closet and turned off the lights. It was pitch dark and I couldn’t see a thing, but I could feel. I don’t even remember much. I was in such shock. I’ve kept blocking it from my mind. I remember his...his penis touching me, though. I was lying on the floor and he was doing something like push ups over me. I don’t know if he went into me or not. I don’t remember. I felt so uncomfortable I cried and begged him to stop. He did. We got out and dressed and he told me not to tell anyone. I’ve only told my immediate family and the odd counselor or rare friend and now you.”

You pause for a little to let it soak in. You hear that he has no comment yet to say. Maybe he is taking it in. Then you decide to include the last, and most important detail.

“I was nine years old.”

There is a pause even stiller than before.

“And at the time, I didn’t even know what sex was at the time, much less what happened to me.”

Your heart is picking up speed again. At once you feel relief that you don’ t have to hide or bury this burden with your boyfriend anymore. But at the same time, here you were, out in the open. Nowehere to hide. After all, moments before you decided to reveal your naked body to him. Now it seemed as if he saw your own inner nakedness and was waiting for his verdict.

“Do you believe me?” you ask.

“I do”

You feel his arms tense up a little bit. Almost in anger, almost to keep you secure.

“Oh my god...that bastard...that’s horrible.”

You feel a couple of tears well up. The pain and confusion and loss that hit you years ago has returned. It returns every time you recount it.

“I was so scared...You would think that I was so inexperienced you would be bored and tired of me or that...that I was ...was damaged goods. Either way, I wasn’t good enough, especially not for you.”

“No, no, not at all.” he insists. You give yourself permission to cry for a bit.

“The whole damaged goods thing is just old-fashioned bullshit” Gwilym insists “ And even if you were inexperienced, if you wanted anything or needed help, I could help you. You were wonderful just now, cariad. I had a wonderful hour I will never forget.”

You feel him gently turn around. By this point, there have been more tears wiping off what makeup you have put on for tonight. The little blemishes on your face and eyes are revealed. It almost makes you cry more, since you are worried this is the most unattractive you seem in front of Gwil. You decide  to look at him in his blue eyes and continue rambling. More things, things you have rearely talked about, begin unpiling.

“I sometimes wonder if I led him on-”

“A nine year old girl? If a man or any guy is turned on by a nine year old girl, he’s the one with a problem.” He wipes away a couple tears with his hands. He cups your face with all the gentleness in the world.

“I can’t imagine what it was like or how it is like. But it was not your fault. You didn’t even bloody know what was happening. He was just some prick who took advantage of a child. That’s the nicest thing I can say about him.”

Gwil begins to wipe a few more tears that fall down from your cheeks. Even with your bare, blemished face, reddened and scrunched from crying, he loves you deeply.

“Three words from me, and Rami, Ben and Joe would have a man hunt for him. I think Lucy would especially enjoy parading around town waving your cousin’s head on a spike”

You smile, both of you chuckling at the image. You move over and kiss him softly, in gratitude.

“That’s why I thank you. Because for years, I hated the idea of sex once I learned about it. If I ever got aroused, I hated myself and called myself a slut and a whore. The idea of a wedding night felt like an execution to me. I had my first boyfriend, he loved that I was virtuous or whatever but whenever he hugged or wanted to kiss me, I was a little terrified. And it showed. He was mad that I wouldn't let him touch me. He broke up with me before we could even kiss. I felt like if I wasn’t the way I was, if I wasn’t such a prude when it came to those kinds of things, he would have stayed with me.”

“Honestly, the whole prude idea can go to hell. No one should be rushed or humiliated into anything they aren’t ready for” he whispers.

You flinch, wondering how Gwil would feel with you talking about past relationships. But he is still. His eyes are crying a little bit too. One hand is wrapped around to caress you and the other still holding your cheek.

“Then I met you.” you say. “And I agreed to date you. And be your girlfriend. You never do anything without asking me first. And whenever I let you, I feel good. Warm. Safe. Loved. I decided it was right to make my sex debut with you. It felt...natural. I actually wanted to do it...And there’s no one else on earth I would rather have it be, than you.”

Gwil hugs you tighter and peppers you with loving kisses. He is now smiling, in spite of the tears both of you have shed, starting to dry.

“Y/N, you’re the bravest person I’ve ever met. I promise to you, now, you are always safe with me, especially in here. You have no reason to hide. It is never easy to live with this, but I will be with you and help you every step of the way. I love you so much. And I will always protect you. Even though it still haunts you, just know, at least, even when it feels unbearable, know I am here. And I adore you. And you are safe” Gwil says, leaving a slow, romantic, tender kiss on your lips. You both begin to smile again through it.

After a moment, he fetches you both a glass of water. Crying always made both of you thirsty, and now that your deepest emotions are released, the water replenishes. You ask him about his experience with Shakespeare and if there are some of the Shakespeare lines he still remembers and you fall asleep safe in Gwil’s arms, bits of Cassio’s lines from Othello lulling you both to peace. 

[likesomekindofcheese]

I literally have no idea how I am going to write part 3 of At the Opera...

Feeling a little stuck and in writers block...any other writers know what to do when stuck?