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ditch-witches · 4 years

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Insufferable (i) - George MacKay x reader

(PART 2) (PART 3) (PART 4)

requested: yes/no (im so sorry this took so long holy scheisse, there are so many parts too)

Thank you so much to our first Instagram request! @/okay.l0z I had a lot of fun with this and had to channel Ryan and Hannah's angst to help me.

"Hi! I've been reading your fics and I love them so much bc there's hardly any around. I was wondering if you take insta requests and if so can you do one with George and the reader are like enemies to loves and they have really cute moments but then end up fighting all the time and then it escalates and they end up having sEx and then get together or something bc I will THRIVE IF YOU DO!" ... "Is it bad if I want it long ass?"

also I thought about this like,,, a lot,,,

pairing: George MacKay x reader

warnings: slow-burn introduction bAsIcalLy, I think there are swear words?

word count: 2,629

a/n: There are several things to be addressed...

accuracy to George's life is like 0/100 - scratch that, they have the same hair color

think of this as an AU because idk how else to explain it

it's a slow burn. if you need something that isn't, check the next imagine over and give it a reblog.

You put your chin in your hand and furrowed your brows as you listened to the actors in front of you. The bright stage lights kept you at a suffocatingly hot temperature, but at this point, you didn't mind. What your main concern for the scene was simple: your leading actor was George MacKay. You had spent constant, stressful hours trying to convince the director of the show that he was not the choice, yet when it came down to it, what he said went, and you had to deal with the cleaning up. Today was not like any other. An almost two-hour practice, script work, lighting, etc, were all thrown at the actors still attempting to memorize their lines.

But it was this part, in particular, that was becoming the most difficult. Maybe it was because you were the ghostwriter of the script and the director was trampling on all of your ideas and dreams with a man that you could one-hundred-percent deem an enemy. Your lead character, Charlie, had a soft side to him, despite having an overpowering sense of the dangers of the world and a body to match. George wasn't Charlie. George was one of the lost boys from Peter Pan and that's all you could see him as. He needed to grow up and be a pirate with only two motives: breaking the chains of the dystopian government regime keeping him away from his wife and captaining the deadly sea creature infested waters and getting back to his wife in one piece.

But George's motives seemed to be entirely set on getting into his co-star's pants.

His cocky attitude and facade of charm made you want to rip your hair out. Sure, he took his job seriously and had several esteemed colleagues of yours raving about him, but this role wasn't his. It didn't help that you knew him from primary school, of all places, and once he found out, that's all he could bring up around you.

George rolled his sleeves and dragged a hand through his thick, red hair, the veins in his arm becoming rather predominant as he did so. He was damn near playing footsie with the girl in front of him; their flirty gazes bouncing from each other to the crumpled scripts in their hands. You rolled your eyes, feeling as if your team could see the steam rolling off your shoulders. The director was doing nothing, merely smiling giddily at the two tearing the scene to shreds. "Stop," you took the reins, standing up from your position on stage and tossing your script down. You stepped over to the two and the director didn't move an inch. "What are you doing?" You nipped, crossing your arms and stepping between George and his co-star.

He towered over you by miles; you weren't sure if this made him feel the superiority he exuded, but you always made sure to square your shoulders when you talked to him. "What do you mean? We're practicing," he slyly stated, sending a wink over your head to the girl.

You took the script from his hands, flipping a few pages to the scene they were supposed to be working on. He smirked down at you, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he watched you scan the page. His script was well-loved and worn as if it had been in his back pocket repeatedly, flipped through, folded, torn and taped, highlighted and annotated. You tried not to blush at the notes he had taken as if he had actually cared about his role. Notes such as movements and relative emotions were noted as if they were suggestions. You wet your lips, feeling George's easy-going gaze on you the whole time. "... Charlie, we have to get out of here..." You began, your eyes meeting his deep blue ones.

His face fell into a stern expression, his arms crossing heavily with a furrowed brow. "We've only just got here. I'm shipping out tomorrow. There's no way the Republic-" His Scottish accent was surprisingly thick and consistent. He was settling into Charlie.

"I don't care anymore. I'm tired of sitting idly by and watching you throw yourself away for a debt your brother can't repay." You swore you saw an actual feeling of hurt flash behind his eyes.

He chewed the inside of his cheek. "That debt is just as much mine as it is his. You're asking me to uproot and leave him, you know? I can't leave him."

"You'll die. You'll end up like the rest of the mariners haunting their wives for the rest of eternity. You're a slave." George took a few steps to stand in front of you, he was close enough that you could smell his cologne now: a sweet mix of sandalwood with hints of lavender. He smelled like a summer day spent at a cabin in the middle of a meadow. You hated it, but you wanted to bury yourself in his chest and bask in his scent for the remainder of your days.

He rested a hand on your neck, angling your face towards him as he whispered, "Look at me..." You attempted to ignore the beating of your heart in your ears and the sweat that began to spread across your back. "I'm free. I'm choosing this debt because, without it, he would die. He's the last piece of my father I have left."

You reached for his hand, covering it with your own. "What about me, Charlie? I'm here now. I'm flesh and blood in front of you. What about our child?"

"He'll be here when I get back." He pushed away from you, turning his back on you and settling his hands on his hips. "I'm not changing my mind." He looked over his shoulder at you. "Eden, I have to do this." You closed the script with a raised eyebrow, hiding how impressed you were that he actually knew his lines. The emotion he was conveying was nothing like how he had previously let on. You walked towards him and he turned back around. You pressed the script back into his hands and gave him a small glare.

"Practice how you play. I'm done with wasting time," you said more to the group than just him. The rest of the cast members weren't as proficient in hiding their amusement back as you were. The last thing George needed was another inflate to his ego. You went back to your spot, grabbing your clipboard and flipping over a few pages. The group began to gather around you slightly. "I need Eden and Charlie in with wardrobe now, the rest of you keep practicing your lines. I'll want to hear dialogue from Dane and Jack tomorrow. Give me another forty or so minutes and we'll call it?" The director nodded from the first row of seats. The crowd dispersed but George swam against the current of thespians, approaching you again.

He gave you one of his charming smiles. Be professional, you thought. "I was just wondering how that sounded to you?"

You thought for a moment, drawing the clipboard to your chest. "Yeah, it was good. Your accent's a bit dodgy, but the emotion is good. Why don't we see that during actual rehearsals?" You tilted your head at him and he looked at his shoes slightly, tucking his hands in the pockets of his jeans. Was he pretending to be humble?

"I don't know. I guess I like you more as Eden," he jeered, causing you to roll your eyes and he smiled wider.

"You're insufferable," you muttered, walking past him.

He chuckled. "Don't worry, I'll grow on you."

You scoffed slightly. "Go get fitted for suspenders and leave me alone, MacKay."

The next few days were full of constant rehearsals both in costume and script memorization. You had to admit that for some reason this show had you wrapped in a bundle of tension and anxiety. George slowly tore away at your nerves, becoming his own mess of anger and frustration as he picked up more and more on the fact that you weren't going to take his shit. You were serious about this job and you were serious about this play. His humor had diminished as it had gotten closer and closer to opening night and you weren't surprised when he would snap back at you for making an adjustment to his tone or a note on the delivery of a line.

"Stop being such a bitch!" He groaned, tugging at his hair as you crossed your arms.

"Calm down, primadonna! All I'm saying is quit pacing! Charlie isn't pacing! Where in the script does it say he's pacing-"

"THAT'S RIDICULOUS. IT DOESN'T MATTER." He moved to stand in front of you, his teeth gritting slightly. This was what your discussion had grown into, one hissy fit flaring up the other.

"FUCK, YOU'RE RIGHT. I TOTALLY FORGOT YOU WERE THE ONE IN CHARGE, MR. MACKAY. SHOULD I JUST SUCK YOUR DICK RIGHT NOW SINCE WE'RE ALREADY ADDING IN UNNECESSARY ACTION," you would bite back causing him to glare up at the ceiling with his jaw clenching in a sarcastic smile. He wore your patience thinner than tulle. And you were hoping to be doing the same to him.

On the eve of opening night, a storm broke out over the city. You hadn't received word from your ride at all---a man you had been seeing on and off for a while, but still managed to keep him at enough distance that the two of you weren't official. You glared at your watch, deciding to say fuck it and just walk the five or so miles it was to your apartment. Your rain jacket was already soaked, your umbrella proving to be no help whatsoever. But you persevered knowing full-well that if your character, Eden, were in the situation, she wouldn't have batted an eye before dropping him and his lack of communication. As the water soaked into your boots and chilled you rather quickly, you bit your tongue, regretting not waiting for the bus. Cars past you at rushed paces, wanting to get home to their loved ones if the rain worsened---you figured.

Your heart began to pound as a car pulled up beside you, causing you to wrap your hand around the bottle of mace in your coat pocket. The window rolled down, but you kept walking. "Do you need a ride?" Hollered an almost too familiar voice.

You crossed your arms and continued to walk. "No!" You called back.

The car rolled forward and you heard the driver door open. George stepped out slightly, drawing his jacket up to fight against the biting wind. "Come on! Look at this weather!"

"I'm good! Go home, George!"

He tilted his head at you with a deadpan expression. "Don't make me throw you over my shoulder." You furrowed your brows and rolled your eyes, sliding into the passenger seat of his car and taking down your hood. George watched as you did this. He slipped off his jacket. "Here." He pulled his hoodie over his head. "Take your shirt off. You'll get hypothermia."

"Excuse me?" You nipped.

It was his turn to roll his eyes. "I won't look. You're soaked. Take my damn hoodie." You looked out the front window and then let out a huff. You peeled off your upper layer, no longer giving a fuck if George saw you in your bra. You looked over to him while he leaned his arm against his door, his cheek resting against his fist as he held his hoodie out to you. You pulled the garment over your head and couldn't help but snuggle into it. It was oversized and warm, smelling just like George. Your cold skin seemed to sigh against the soft material and you felt tears prickling at the corners of your eyes at how content you were. George put the car into drive after he had made sure you were taken care of. You slipped your hands into the long sleeves and fought not to dig your nose into the neckline to breathe him in. His scent was like kryptonite to you and you hated it. "Are you hungry?" He asked, looking at you briefly and flipping the heat more to your side. He smiled almost proudly to himself at the sight of you enjoying his hoodie and the safety of his car.

You quickly braided your hair, attempting to combat the wet feeling of it against your neck. "No, I'm fine thanks."

"Come on. My treat? I've been a dick to you all week."

"Fine..." You mumbled. He found a nook of a restaurant jabbed into a part of London you had yet to explore. The rain had finally let up to a drizzle as the two of you made your way inside the softly lit eatery. The two of you tucked into a booth and ordered almost instantly, you now realizing just how hungry you actually were. "What were you doing in that part of town so late?" You finally asked after they brought out a hot tea for him and topped off your coffee. His large hands cradled the steaming mug in front of him, his nose slightly red from the chilly weather outside.

He chuckled slightly. "I forgot my script in the theatre and---for some reason---couldn't stop thinking about it." You nodded hesitantly. "Why were you walking home?"

You shrugged nonchalantly. "Such beautiful weather we're having. Thought I would take an evening stroll," you joked, causing him to chuckle lightly. George's face seemed to glow slightly under the cozy lights of the restaurant, his hair slightly disheveled and damp from the rain. You now got a full sight of the t-shirt he was wearing that commemorated a football team from the graduating year ahead of yours.

There was a beat of silence between you two. "Why..." George tugged his bottom lip between his teeth, attempting to find the right words. You furrowed your brows. "Why do you hate me so much?" If you weren't looking at him, you would have sworn he was smiling behind his question.

"Seriously?"

He nodded. "Seriously."

"You dated my best friend, Sophie, and broke her heart," you answered bluntly.

George sent you a puzzled expression for half a second before grinning slightly. "Yeah, but I was ten."

"Yeah, but now she's twenty-one and we still talk about it," you quipped, taking a sip of your coffee.

He exhaled. "I was... I was ten..." He furrowed his brows. "She was pretty. Hasn't some other guy broken up with her since me?"

You shrugged again. "No, she has this mindset where if she starts getting the feeling that things aren't working, she cuts out."

"She's been dwelling over me for how many years?" He couldn't fight the grin threatening to creep across his face.

You bit the inside of your cheek in thought. "I guess that would be twelve years." He whistled. "We're good at keeping grudges."

"Well, if I ever run into her, I'll apologize." He added a lump of sugar to his tea. "Is that the only reason?"

You debated ripping him a new one, but the tiredness you felt reflected in his eyes. "It's the kick-off point. Why? Do you wanna be buddies now?" You joked, sticking your spoon in your mouth.

He rested his hand in his chin. "Nah," he pursed his lips in thought. You furrowed your eyebrows at his answer, letting a titter escape your lips. "You're too young for me." You laughed a bit harder.

"Age is just a number, baby," you hummed and he smirked at you, a sparkle in his eye.

Comment if you would like to be tagged in the next part! Let us know what you think!

#george mackay #george mackay x reader #george mackay imagines #george #1917 imagines #1917 #imagine #reader insert #george mackay angst #angst #fluff #rain

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thylalock · 4 years

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Sorrow's my body on the waves — Sorrow, The National

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lawrussy · 4 years

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what if...

what if the weather had been colder that early spring morning of april 6, 1917, if it had just been a few degrees lower

what if we had seen blake’s breath each and everytime time he exhaled into the cold air the closer death drew near, counting the exact amount, from being stabbed by the german pilot to scho’s,

just like you....a little older

what if schofield counted them as he held blake, comforting him hoping and praying that each breath wouldn’t be his last

stupid blake...how could you be so selfish, why wouldn’t you just let me shoot him? stupid...stupid blake...it should have been me instead, why wasn’t it me instead?

what if schofield watched in guilt as the final weak breath of air that leaves blake’s lips eerily resembles his soul

what if schofield stayed there, in denial waiting for another breath, only to feel blake’s body growing colder in his arms

what if every year after that day, when the seasons change from warm to cold, and every visible breath of air that schofield takes, reminds him of blake on that cold 6th of april, 1917

what if...

#ughhhhh #1917 #will schofield #tom blake #george mackay #dean charles chapman #please dont let this flop #im so sad its angst season BAYBEE

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coralinejones · 4 years

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#anyway as much as i love angst im sad😔😔😔 dont do this to me yalk #*yall #1917 #1917 (movie)#1917 film #1917 movie #1917 (2019)#thomas blake #tom blake #lance corporal blake #william schofield #will schofield #lance corporal schofield #dean charles chapman #dean chapman #george mackay #blakefield #wom

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strangethings-everywhere · 4 years

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Dust // G.M. x Reader

Masterlist Requested: yes Word count: Warnings: so much angst, wee mention of drug use, cursing, anxiety, allergies Author note: Happy 1917 day! Here’s a lil fluff. As a treat

You’re a grad student who’s been working in the history library at Cambridge for almost two years and your coworker George Mackay is probably one of the most unbearable, stuck-up, horrendous know-it-alls you’ve ever met. Much to your dismay, he’s devastatingly handsome and the only person who understands your history puns. You hate him.

You arrived at the library almost an hour early, your XL thermos full of coffee and your bag full of snacks. You had just had a breakthrough in your WWI thesis and you needed tons of energy and time to start restoring some of the old photographs and documents you had uncovered.

Unfortunately, his bags were already at the desk. You bit back a nasty stream of curses as you hung up your coat and pinned on your badge.

The clicking of your shoes echoed down the hallway as you raced towards your favorite room, praying to the heavens that he wasn’t already there.

“Y/N! I didn’t know you were going to be here too!”

God fucking dammit.

You turned, a fake smile stretched thin across your face. George Mackay, your fellow grad student, stood behind you clad in a blue button-up shirt, black dress pants, and black dress shoes. His blond hair was disheveled already by the magnifying glasses perched upon his head and his sleeves were already rolled up to make room for the white latex gloves he was wearing.

He was your absolute nightmare.

You had met George six months into your adventure at Cambridge. You hated him instantly. He was a know-it-all, constantly correcting you and making sure everyone knew he was the smartest in the room. The two of you were constantly competing at everything, whether it was putting away books or restoring documents. He was also doing his thesis on military history and that drove you crazy.

You hated his stupidly handsome face. You hated how he looked so good with his sleeves rolled up and you wanted to just explode.

“Yes, I’m here to do some thesis stuff before work.” You said slowly. He grinned.

“Hey me too! Do you want any help?”

“No, absolutely not.” You turned on your heel and kept walking.

“Alright, just let me know! I’m always happy to help!” He called. You responded with a firm middle finger, which only made him laugh.

Work was completely uneventful for most of the morning, as it often was. You avoided George and he avoided you, the two of you only coming together when your supervisor needed help.

“Hey Y/N?” His voice floated through the shelves, making you pause and almost gag.

“What, what do you want?” You hissed. His face poked through a hole in the books.

“Miss Krysty needs us to go find a book in the back. Like, the old dusty labyrinth area.” He grinned, summoning a temptation to keep stacking books where his face was. You restrained yourself.

“Why on earth does she need us to go back there? No one goes back there?”

“Because someone requested a book, and it’s in the old dusty back! You’re smart, I thought you would be able to figure that out on your own.” He rolled his eyes.

You shoved the books in your hand into the cubby, causing him to fall back with a groan. You bit back a satisfied grin as he poked his head through the next available cubby, rubbing his nose.

“C’mon, she needs both of us.”

“I’m aware. I just have to finish stacking the books.” You sighed. George let out a huff and disappeared. Suddenly, he was at your side, shelving books at lightning speed.

Deep in your chest, you began to feel something come alive. You recognized the feeling from those nights when you felt lonely or you had come home from a night at the pub. That feeling in your chest had summoned thoughts of George, with his disheveled hair and strong arms and you hated it. But as he stood next to you, shelving books and talking about a documentary he had just watched, you couldn’t help that feeling.

“Y/N?” His voice snapped you out of your stupor and you realized you had been staring. “We’re done.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” Your face burning, you pushed the empty cart to the desk and took a long sip of your coffee. “Alright, what’s this book?”

“I don’t have a title, only an ISBN number.” George held up a slip of paper with his writing on it. “Assuming a book that old will have an ISBN number.”

“Why didn’t Krysty give you a title?” You asked as the two of you made your way towards the back.

“The request wasn’t made with a title. Whoever made it only gave the ISBN number and Krysty said the book was in the back.” George shrugged. “I’ve never been in the back.”

You had, once. It was an absolute maze of boxes and files and dusty old books with almost no organization. The first book hunt had taken you six hours.

“You’ll get lost in there.” You shook your head and pulled out your key ring. The key for the back was an ornate skeleton key, which made the whole thing even more ominous. The lock creaked as you turned it, ignoring George as he scoffed in the background.

“It can’t possibly be that… bad…” He trailed off as the door swung open and revealed the contents of the room.

“Oh. It’s gotten worse.” You mused as you walked inside. “Come on. I don’t want to be here for another six hours.”

It looked like a library graveyard. Files and boxes were stacked haphazardly against walls and bookcases, while books occupied every square inch of the floor. Cobwebs hung off the edges of the bookcases and dust was everywhere. You felt your sinuses protest at the very thought of entering the room.

Alas, dust must be braved. Sometimes, in the company of terribly handsome morons.

Flashlights in hand, the two of you began your journey into the deep, picking over the documents and relics with a learned carefulness that only came from working in a library. Since the back room had no system of organization, you could only pray that the book would be somewhere easy to locate.

George was surprisingly quiet, his usual holier-than-thou attitude absent. You had suspected that it had been replaced by a determination to find the book but as the hours dragged on, you became confused. He was working slower than you and he seemed to get distracted easily. Those were qualities that he would usually tease you about with a grin and a nudge as he brought you coffee, or asked to borrow a tool YOU needed.

“Y/N?” His voice dragged you out of your thoughts.

“Hm?” You glanced up from your pile. George set down the book he was looking at and wiped his forehead, leaving an ashy streak behind.

“D’you mind if I go look over there? I think it would go faster if we split up.” His blue eyes darted from side to side, refusing to meet your gaze.

“Yeah. Just,” you grabbed his arm as he stood, “don’t go too far. You’ll get lost and then I’ll have to launch a search party.”

He slowly removed his arm from your grasp, flexing it as though it ached. With a single nod to you, he was gone.

You felt smug at first, almost excited at the idea of getting to work by yourself. George was a thorn in your side, a burden to your academic success. A fiendish devil with the shaping of a Greek god, the wit of a Jane Austen protagonist, and the makings of a pure genius. You hated how smart he was because you felt like he was smarter than you but he was truly the only person who had ever challenged your intellect. In another life, you would’ve instantly asked him out for drinks to discuss Shakespeare or psychological theories or the philosophy of mortality.

Slowly, you began to feel empty. Sorting books and papers in a dusty old room wasn’t the same without someone to argue with. It wasn’t as fun without someone to laugh about funny old titles with. Without George there, you didn’t have anyone to show the old drawing of a brain to. It became miserable.

You realized that you were stacking things into two piles: things to show George and things that were not what you were looking for. You rubbed your face, ignoring the dirt and grime on your gloves. “Fuck. Fucking fuck.”

With a heavy sigh, you gathered the pile of things to show George and began to walk in the direction he had gone. You called his name, weaving through piles of books and between shelves. He was nowhere to be seen. You began to wonder if he had forgotten about you or if he had found the book and left.

“George!” You shouted. The stacks were up to your knees and the dust had gotten thicker, making your eyes water. “George, c’mon. This isn’t funny!” A lump began to form in your throat. You were alright with him teasing you, but him abandoning you in the dark? Not at all.

You made it back to the beginning, to the door, with no sign of him. It took every ounce of your being not to cry as you tossed the papers in your arms to the ground and burst into the library in a cloud of dust. Your supervisor, Krysty, ran over to you.

“Y/N! Are you alright?” She asked, gathering you in a hug. You burst into tears.

“We couldn’t find the book and George went off by himself and then he left and I couldn’t find him and…” You choked out, chest heaving as you buried your face in Krysty’s shoulder.

“George? I saw him not ten minutes ago.”

Tears of fear quickly turned to tears of rage. You stood, almost knocking Krysty to the ground. “Where was he going?” You seethed. She pointed towards the grad student office.

You had never experienced emotions like the ones you felt as you stormed towards the office. He had left you and you had no idea why it made you so goddamn angry. It’s not like he was your friend. It’s not like he had promised to come back. In fact, he hadn’t said anything at all.

Images flashed through your mind:

George, bringing you coffee, as you restored a photograph at nearly three in the morning. You didn’t thank him, but he always made sure your mug was full. You never thanked him.

He always seemed to borrow the tools that you needed. However, they always came back clean and in their proper places without you asking.

George helping you shelve books. He would always put away the books that were out of your reach. You had assumed he was doing it to belittle you, that his little smile was coming from a place of superiority. You never assumed it was a smile of fondness.

It couldn’t have been…

You threw open the door to see George leaning over his desk holding a bottle of pills.

“George?” His name came out choked and confused. He jumped, obviously not expecting you to be there.

“Y/N, I…” He held up the bottle. “I’m sorry I had to come to take these. I should’ve told you, but it just got so bad.”

“What are they?” You ripped them out of his hand. “What are you on? Are you a druggie, what is this? Did you leave to get fucking high, what does this say?” You finally found the title of the drug on the label and felt your heart drop to your shoes.

Allergy pills. George had left you to take allergy pills. You felt like an asshole as you slowly handed them back to him, sat down at your desk, and peeled off your gloves.

“Y/N?” George kneeled down next to you. “I didn’t mean to leave without telling you. I’ve just got the worst dust allergy and I had to go take some medicine. My eyes were watering so bad I could barely see.”

“You have a dust allergy.” You shook your head with a small smile. “And you work in a library?”

“See I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d make fun!” He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. You chuckled softly.

“I don’t make fun.”

“Yes, you do. You make fun of me every day.” He furrowed his eyebrows.

“Well, I’m… I’m sorry.” You sighed. “I think I’ve been a complete ass these past few months.”

“Yeah, just a bit.” George grinned. You nudged him playfully.

“But seriously, why on earth would you bring a severe dust allergy to a library? Especially an old one like this?”

His face got red, all the way to the tips of his ears. “I guess… it had something to do with the pretty grad student at the front desk.” He glanced up at you through his eyelashes, his blue eyes full of admiration.

“I-I thought you hated me…” You gasped, heart pounding.

“Maybe at first, when I realized that you were so much smarter than me. But no, I couldn’t hate you. I’ve been trying to figure out how to ask you out for drinks.” George smiled.

You grinned. The ocean-eyed, history scholar was finally yours and that was what you had wanted all along. “Then you should’ve just asked, pretty boy. I would’ve said yes.”

#George Mackay #george mackay x reader #george mackay imagines #enemies to lovers #angst #my requests #fluff #1917 day #1917

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anguishmacgyver · 4 years

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George MacKay in Pride (2014)

#George MacKay #Pride #Pride 2014 #George MacKay Pride #crying #whump #angst #exhausted #tears #othergifs #whump aesthetic

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blake-and-sco · 4 years

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‘A Scrap of Ribbon’ hits different when you haven’t heard it in a while.

#home alone #wallowing in angst #1917 soundtrack #1917 #1917 film #1917 movie #george mackay #dean charles chapman #will schofield #tom blake

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s1ater · 3 years

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the kiss of death. george mackay x reader

summary 📣: in which reader falls in love with the angel of death

warning/s 🚫: swearing, the grim reaper 💀, angst, death, incorrect facts about the angel of death

slater’s note 🗯: this idea came to me at random and i absolutely adore it for some reason even though... i don’t

the angel of death was a beautiful creature that always held fate in hand, a man dressed in black with golden rings that carried the souls of the forbidden.

always roaming around for the next, tailing the soon to be dead. a man who holds fate, who brings peace, but never looked to as an angel.

he had been following you around the past couple of days causing you to get weary. at first you hadn’t notice, passing him on opposite lanes of the sidewalk just as if he was normal stranger, someone you’d never see again, and someone you barely took notice to.

you wouldn’t be able to tell his face from another if you were ever asked... not until the third day.

your eyes settled on him from across the street, first they were only wandering before your eyes matched onto his.

icy, cold, and blue. it linked you into place as fear seemed to fill your soul like a cup of juice, your recognition system kicking in as his familiar face filtered through brain, eyes flicking back and forth before... ding.

you were afraid something would happen once you passed him, but nothing did, and why would it?

he could have just been a normal civilian, just like you. who went the same way to work like you did. you were sure there were hundreds of people like that, people you’ve seen before, more than once but hadn’t actually met.

but you knew there had to be something more to this man because never before had you ever recognized a person you hadn’t ever met before.

it was the sixth day that you confronted him.

and maybe it was stupid but nothing could have brought anything to enter your mind for the man dressed in black who sat a table away from you took up all its time.

“do you always wear the same outfit everyday?” you leaned over the small coffee table that you sat at, leaning toward the man in black who’s newspaper was covering the whole front of his body.

he didn’t respond, keeping the newspaper up tightly like a wall, still covering his pale features. you almost wondered if you were talking to the right man... or whether or not he could hear you.

“i mean it sure is one nice suit... but to wear it everyday?” you quirked a brow, amusement filling your tone as if you were making fun of him now.

and yet he made no movement.

“can i at least look at your pretty face while we’re talking?” your bottom lip peeled out from your top one, pouting, and batting your eyelashes dramatically as you slightly curved your head to the right, analyzing his fingers that clutched the newspaper.

he moved, folding the newspaper neatly and placing it down on his own round table. he folded his arms against his chest, his biceps bulge against his nice black coat jacket.

you straighten your back out of reflex in intimidation. you forgot what he look like, but at least to say you had never seen his face so up close.

beautiful, pale, and full of no amusement. dead of facial expression. and yet yours filled of regret for being so teasing.

“who are you?” you say nervously, gripping the sides of your chair, not daring to break eye contact no matter how hard you wanted to.

he stayed silent before straightening out his own back, grabbing onto the glass case of sugar, dumping it into his coffee, before stirring it with a small silver spoon, “the grim reaper.”

his voice was deep yet light as he continued to stir his cup of coffee, memorized by the liquid spinning round and round while brushing you off.

oh? that’s all you could think.

“so you’re here to kill me?” it wasn’t something you were exactly so willingly to believe, your eyes narrowing up together as you were completely dumbfounded to his answer. your hands loosened from their grips to the chair you sat at, laying them on the table.

who says that?

“i’m actually not here to kill you but rather... collect your soul,” he seems hesitant by the way he worded it- you could tell he had been in this situation before, and he had to be careful with wording it this time.

“collect my soul?” you couldn’t seem to understand it no matter how clear it was, and it was really clear, but you weren’t processing it right.

“after you die, someone has to collect your body, and someone also has to collect your soul, that someone being me,” he takes a sip of his coffee while carefully analyzing your movements.

“fuck,” you dipped your head into your palms, your mind hitting the pavement fast to realization that you were dying- or going to die and you could only imagine it was sooner rather than later. “you’ve go to be joking.”

“afraid not, dear.”

“you’re just a man,” you mumble, motioning your hand to the tall man, “and this is a funny joke.”

“and why would this be a joke?”

you moved to the chair across from the man, ready to bring down his whole claim, “because the last time i checked, the angel of death was only a myth.”

maybe you were just speaking out of your ass, maybe you were actually dying and it wasn’t some joke, or maybe you were on an acid trip while having a manic episode at the same time.

“of course you think that, you’re a college student,” he gave you a look that seemed reassuring, that it was completely fine that you didn’t believe him, “you’re smart, you’re critical, i wouldn’t expect anything less from you, y/n.”

you felt like you were talking to a more forgiving version of your father. late nights when you would come home for no reason your freshman year in college, you’d hear the exact same words that came from the man in black’s mouth in your own fathers voice when he caught you sneaking into your own childhood home.

“i wouldn’t except anything less from you, y/n.”

it was always taunting when it came from him, like you were weak and needed him to hold your hand. it’s what drove you away and caused you to lessen your visits to only christmas and thanksgiving.

“i’ll see you tomorrow,” he stood up from the small table, grabbing onto his newspaper before laying a strong hand on the top of your head, giving it a firm squeeze as if in reassurance.

and you sat there... left in the basic of silence with nothing but the sounds of busy cars to fill your ears and the pondering thoughts of wondering how he knew your name.

°•

you found him on a wooden park bench the next day, his back heavily leaned against it with a newspaper in both his hands, once again covering his face.

you say carefully next to him, not looking to him but rather staring out to the park where families walked along the sidewalk while others biked and walked their dogs alone or in groups.

you sucked in a deeper breath of air. ever since the man you sat next to told you he was the grim reaper, you became more cautious, despite your whole thoughts on him lying, you couldn’t prevent his words from getting to your head.

everything could kill you, yet nothing had done so yet.

“what’s your name?” you mumbled, dipping your head closer to his as he continued to read, your nose getting a good whiff of him and even for being a supposed angel of death, he smelled good.

“i don’t have one.”

“what do you mean you don’t have one?”

“i’m an angel, well rather the angel of death, i go by many names but was never given a permanent one, besides ‘the grim reaper’ i suppose,” he had set down his newspaper to the right of him, slightly rolling his eyes at the name grim reaper.

it made you smile as you looked down to the ground, listening to his voice as you dug your shoes into the dirt peaking out from the grass. his voice was smooth and there were no stutters or tripping. it made you want to fall into his throat, listening to him talk for hours because he seemed to be just so... good at it.

“well i have to call you something,” you glanced up to him where his eyes already were, looking down at you, “especially if you’re going to be following me around till the day of my death.”

he seemed hesitant, choking on what he would say next. almost as if he were uncomfortable to the fact that you took the idea of your death lightly, like you still thought it was a joke.

and you did.

“i don’t want you to call me anything.”

“but i want to,” you rose your eyebrows as if you were telling him off, as if this meant a lot to you, “last dying wish?”

“you joke a lot for someone who’s going to die in a couple of days.”

“harrison?”

“what?”

“harrison, can i call you that?”

“no.”

“tom?”

“no.”

“nicholas? timothy? carl? louis? george?”

“no...george is fine,” he rose his hands, as if steadying you from continuing you on, “that’s fine.”

“really?”

“yes,” and he stood, grabbing his newspaper before hitting your head with it lightly, “i’ll find you tomorrow.”

°•

he found you on campus, sitting on one of the many benches that were littered throughout the property, newspaper in hand, only this time he had it rolled in his hand, waiting for you.

“do you think you can kill me before my exam on friday, i don’t feel like i have enough willpower to pass it,” once you had passed him on the blue plastic bench, he stood, following you as you exited off the property and to the direction of your apartment.

“funny,” he mumbled, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

the day was fuming of sunshine. the only relief you found from the heat were from the trees the two of you passed every once and awhile, the thick roots being planted along the sidewalk.

you begun to sweat, the sundress you wore provided you no relief causing you to wonder as to how george seemed completely fine, calm and cool actually, like the heat was arctic weather.

“i don’t understand how you wear that thing everyday,” you stressed, glancing to the black suit that fitted his body quiet well.

he chuckled in return, glancing in return, “i don’t feel what you feel, darling.”

“obviously not.”

°•

the taste of lemonade was so very sweet and cool as it flattened and sank into your taste buds. it created a feeling of relief to surface all over your skin, the sweat no longer feeling hot but cool as it dipped down your shoulders and back.

you leaned back into the patio chair, the plastic pressing up into your skin. a feeling of relaxation begun to take over your mind and body as you closed your eyes in delight from the shade that now covered you and the iced lemonade that settled in your stomach.

“how do i die, george?” you hummed, your head still dipped back, eyes closed, not bothered by anything.

“i cant tell you that, darling.”

“why? does it upset you too much to talk about my very untimely death?”

“i don’t get upset, nor sad.”

you sat up quickly, your back pressing against the back of the plastic chair fast as you looked to him slightly disappointed as well as shocked.

“i don’t believe that.”

“that probably has something to do with the fact that your a very empathetic person.”

“and you’re not?”

“no.”

“george, you kill people everyday, how don’t you? don’t you feel any remorse for being so cruel?”

“it’s not cruel, it’s a job,” he sipped his tea, “i’m not killing anyone, y/n, people kill themselves simply by being fools or rather not being healthy. i simply just make sure they make it beyond their body and into the afterlife.”

“never killed anyone huh?” you quirked a brow, golding your arms, “i mean don’t you ever follow someone who’s supposed to die.. but just doesn’t? and they’re just taking too long and you want to speed up the process...”

“no, but you’re about to be the first one.”

°•

“but have you ever fallen in love?” you stared up at your ceiling, the fabric of your lavender blanket laid over you, ready to set you off to deep sleep and dreams.

“no.”

you hated to hear that answer. and despite after learning all you did about the man who laid next to you and how he basically felt nothing and did nothing but his job. you should’ve known. but you only hoped that he would’ve said ‘yes’ and a bit of mortality would’ve shown of him.

the two of you had been in your bed for along two hours, nothing but pointless questions and laughs filled your small room. but even if the whole conversation that took place was pointless, you just had to know. know everything about him, how he lived, who he had met, who he was going to meet, and who he’d kill after you. well, not necessarily kill, but rather pull away from death and into... the afterlife.

he was interesting and he was beautiful and you loved every word that came from his mouth, except for the ‘no’s. but even then he said it so perfectly and everything he had an answer for, he knew everything.

he could have anything and everything with the knowledge he had, with the answers he could give, he could have everything but yet, he wanted nothing.

he only wanted to do his job and the souls he took.

“you’ve never fallen in love?” you rolled over onto your side, facing him where he still laid on his back above the covers and analyzing the ceiling like it had a story to tell, “you never felt a boyish feeling of seeing a pretty girls face and simply just... melting?”

you sounded like a little girl, you knew, he knew it. and even though you knew the answer to your own question, you still wanted to hear it from his voice.

“i’ve never been a boy, nor a man, i only just existed since the beginning of time, i could never feel what you feel nor could i melt by the simple sight of something.”

ouch.

“you’re no fun.”

“would you like me to lie?” he turned on his side, facing you.

“no,” you pressed your lips into a thin line, leaning up on your elbows so you were leveled higher than him, “but you could humor me.”

“life isn’t fun, y/n,” he rubbed his lips together, looking up to you with his pretty blue eyes, something you found so strange about him. what a dark soul but such light, pretty eyes.

“it just sucks you’ll never be able to experience a first kiss or...”

he reached up, placing his palm against your cheek, “darling, a first kiss would kill.”

“what do you mean,” you pout, playing into his gesture of being sweet to you, his hand on your cheek, his cold hand and fingers warming against the redness of your cheeks. you leaned into his touch, wanting more.

“an immortal soul can’t mix with a mortal one, it doesn’t work like that,” he continued to rub his thumb against your cheek as if teasing you for something you can’t have, that being him, “i’d kill a soul i’m not meant to mix with.”

“so you’re saying...” you played on, pausing while laying a hand in the nape of his neck, “it’d kill me or any other girl for that matter... if we shared a kiss?”

teasing, it was like teasing and you were being a fool for playing into it when you should’ve been tucked back into your covers with him away and out the door, waiting for you to perish.

waiting for you.

°•

it was raining and george knew this day would come. the sky cloudy and filled with little rain drops that poured down roughly, one after another with no signs of stopping.

no one dared to go any further past their balcony to scope out the pretty but harsh water droplet that felt of pins and needles.

george held an umbrella or rather the angel of death held an umbrella. he should’ve never let you call him that, for now all it’d be is a name in the past, something he had to forget or carry along on his shoulders with other souls he could tell, just as he had told you of other past souls who had called him many things, but never a specific name, and never george.

the angel of death’s eyes layered out to the dark street that flooded with rain water, toppling onto of the rare sighting of cars in hurry to get home.

he looked down to his watch, 4:30, just about on time, just...

1...2...3...

and there you were, skipping down the street with an umbrella in hand, your head held low as you tried to keep the water out of your eyes that splashed up from the streets.

you weren’t paying attention, and that’s how it went. you were practically skipping, trying to get as much as water possible out of your shoes until you were hit by a car sending you right for the hard concrete, your head splitting open.

and the angel of death crossed the street like an angel in the clouds, practically gliding across the rain filled streets in his nice black leather shoes, making his way over to your frail, dead body.

and the boy you called george placed a small kiss upon your lips, capturing your soul within his black rings with all the other special encounters he had wished to keep forever.

and forever, he would keep you, trapped with a kiss you’d cherish forever.

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goeatsomelife · 4 years

Text

The Teasing Game ✦ Part 3

Warnings: angst, swearing

Pairings: George Mackay x Reader

Read PART 1 PART 2

Summary: Teasing game with George, but you developed romantic feelings for him. Can you resist your desire to save a family, or you will fight for your love? Another Unpleasant Plot Twist awaits you in the end! You are Dean-Charles Chapman’s sister. 1506 words

Author’s Note: Yeah, I finally get inspiration to continue this story and OH boy, another plot twist awaits you in the end. Please, like and reblog, if you follow the story! Thank you for your kind comments!

Savoring the sweet and sour taste of spicy homemade apple pie you thought about future meeting with George. It was Wednesday. In an hour he will pick you up. You thought about the past, questioning the results of your teasing game. You wondered if it was worth it. Who started it? You thought it’s just a game, but you caught feelings for George. After meeting his “beautiful” girlfriend you’ve decided to quit drooling all over his blue eyes. But time heals everything and now your anger was almost invisible. Your sweet slumber was interrupted by a ring of a doorbell, making your heart skip a bit. You fixed your hair, taking a look at yourself in the mirror. You will let him suffer…in a good way.

"Hey," yeah, it's awkward. He was standing in your doorway, wearing a cozy grey sweatshirt. His hair was slightly messy, some of the wheaten locks were falling on his eyes. His eyes like the sky, clear and beautiful. He made you feel weak, so you allowed him to take you to his car.

"So..." You pinched the fabric of your dress, trying to not sound nervous. "Where are we going? You're not planning on murdering me in the forest?" You've noticed that you drove outside the city. Along the road where only high green trees. It seemed like a labyrinth, that you were willing to solve.

His laugh was mesmerizing. Hearing his velvet voice you can't hold yourself from smiling. He noticed that with his peripheral vision, but you quickly changed your facial expression.

"It's a surprise!" He really thought of a date when he needs an explanation to do? He has a girlfriend after all.

"Seriously? I don't want to go on dates with you! I just want an explanation. That's all," You can see a sadness in his eyes. Your words get him. Bingo! One point to you.

"It's going to be a long story, so buckle up".

We made it to the final destination. It was a beautiful meadow surrounded by wildflowers of different colours. There was a thin rippling mountain river. Sounds of water always made you calm. George knew what he was doing.

"I thought it's going to be easier for you to digest information in the place like this," sometimes you think that he was reading your mind. He looked around the place we were staying and unfolded the blanket, laying it on the flat ground. He grabbed a bag from the trunk and started placing food: homemade lemonade, sandwiches with ham and cheese, fresh vegetables.

"What is this?" You took one piece of what seems like brad or something.

"It's a banana bread" you love everything baked, so you didn't want to wait before you took a whole piece of delicious food in your mouth, chewing it proudly.

"Mm it's tasty!" You sat on the blanket with a big smile on your face. Maybe, this day won't that bad.

"I made it myself" you can't believe it. Gosh, Meghan is a lucky bitch. Getting a man like that.

You were eating a second sandwich, stomachs full. Lemonade in your cups.

"Tell me when you ready to listen," George said, his eyes looked dim. He was nervous. You didn't want to ruin that perfect moment. How good it would be if there was no girlfriend, no work, no feelings. Only this perfect moment. Sun was caressing your skin with warm beams.

"I think I'm ready! Tell me everything" Here we go. Buckle up Y/N, we’re going down!

"I want to be honest with you. This is why I've decided to get you here. It's my secret spot," he looked around again with a proud smile. "I get here every time life gets too harsh on me. HeIe is quite"

"I understand why. Here's beautiful, George" you said, convincing that you believed his words. The spot is really amazing, but what's that bad happening in his life? He has a girlfriend and a career. Is it a trick to appease you and get you to believe in whatever he will say?

"Will it be too cheesy if i will say it's beautiful like you?" You chuckled. He knows how to clear the air. At that moment you realized how comfortable you were with him. No awkward silence, no misunderstanding. You didn’t felt that good with someone in a long time. Too bad he lied, too bad he has a partner. Maybe it will be okay to be just friends?

"We were dating with Meghan before 1917 release. She was kind and supportive. I've never loved her, but I can't deny sympathy. But when we started planning on 1917 something changed in here. I told her about how big this project is, so she started to demand more from me. She asked for expensive presents almost every fucking day, spent less time with me, more with her friends, I was like a wealthy daddy who will pay on her every wish."

"Dzaddy," you laughed again. Now was your turn to clear the air. He chuckled bitterly. Probably, it was too serious for him, you didn’t even know what’s will come next.

"Our relationship was toxic, so I quitted it. Little did I know. Before the premiere, she came to my house with the pregnancy test. There weIe two lines. I still can't believe it," he hid his face in his hands. You flinched. You didn't even realize tha I your mouth was agape. She is pregnant. What an unexpected turn. You'd stand up and go home, but curiosity overpowered so you stayed still, waiting for the continuation.

"She threatened me, said that she will go to the police and say that i raped her! She didn't want to let me go... I'm stuck in this relationship. And ..soon I'm going to be a dad...I guess." you tried to digest all of the information. Soon you came up with some questions.

"Did you have an intimacy before made it quit?" It was quite a personal question, but he was willing to open up to you.

“No. That's the case. But I can't prove anything!" his voice was desperate.

"So you think it's not your child?" you asked curiously, with hope in your eyes.

"Maybe...maybe mine. I'm not sure about anything. Everything that I cared about before was work, but now... I'm so frustrated and exhausted. I didn’t tell it to anyone before, because I wanted to sort thing by myself. But with each day it gets worse. She’s hiding behind pregnancy and ruins my life, steals my money," he was broken. You couldn't sit there when he was nearly crying. You felt horrible. You sat closer, carefully laying your hand on his back, patting it.

"George..." You couldn't come up with the right words, don't want to make everything worse. You wanted to help him, but you need time to figure out how. It was disgusting how someone can treat his partner like that. And for what? For money?

"But what made me believe in the light at the end of the dark tunnel...it's you" you tried to find his eyes, but he was hiding his face in his arms.

"You made my life a little bit easier. But fucking Meghan ruined everything again." You put your hand on his, squeezing it lightly and moving it away from his face. His hand was big and warm. Something drove you to him, and you couldn't resist this power. But you must listen to your common senses.

"I can't be with you when this woman carries your child. It would be cruel to you and to her. Maybe she is carrying YOUR child," you couldn’t believe your words. You didn't want to break him, but you can't be with him in this situation. His back muscles tensed, and you felt this with your hand.

"See...You're different," he said, weakly holding your hand in his arms, playing with the ring on your finger.

"But I want to make your life easier." He raised his face to look in your eyes. His eyes were tearing up. You didn't even realize that the sun was setting on the horizon before you noticed how his tears reflected the light. He was like a lost child, trying to find his mum. Suddenly his hands landed on both sides of your face, sending warmth and shivers through your body. You couldn't hide your eyes. You were mesmerized and it drove you crazy. What you were doing?

"I like you Y/N," and your lips met each other in a slow waltz dance, savoring every moment. His lips were soft and wet. You felt the saltiness of his tears.

"I wanted to do it for so long Y/N," he parted for a moment, searching for acceptance in your eyes. You couldn't resist desire, that was driving you to him from the first day you've met, so you reconnected your lips, deepening the kiss. It was a positive answer to his intentions. You were sinking in the turquoise waters of your feelings, now you're not going to be saved. Oh god... what you've got yourself into?

I hope you didn’t forget about this story @fandom--0verdose?

#george mackay #george mackay x reader #george mackay fanfiction #george mackay imagine #1917 #1917 imagine #spring moodboard #true history of the kelly gang #dean-charles chapman #dean-charles chapman x reader #dean-charles chapman imagine #ophelia #how i live now #imagine #fanfiction

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ditch-witches · 4 years

Text

Excuses (George MacKay Fluff)

@iongaa is a god. Don’t forget that while you’re crying over that beautiful aesthetic.

requested: yes/no (sorry this is literally SO LATE)

pairing: George MacKay x reader

warnings: literally nothing but Ryan’s angst

word count: 914

a/n: This took Ryan so long, Hannah and I had to take the wheel.

“George,” you groaned, “do we really have to have this discussion again?” Marriage had come up in conversation, but you two could never seem to agree on whether or not to take that massive leap forward in your relationship. George knew you were the one the moment he met you and made it his mission to marry you. You, on the other hand, weren’t too keen on marriage. Of course, you loved him, and even thought of him as your soulmate, but there were just so many reasons not to get married.

“Yes! It’s been what…” he paused, taking a moment to think, “three years? I want an excuse I haven’t heard before,” he said, crossing his arms and sinking back into the pillows. George liked to call your arguments against marriage excuses, but in your mind, they were perfectly good reasons.

You flopped on the bed, burying yourself in the new sheets the two of you had bought only a week ago. You turned your head to face George, tossing him a quizzical look. “Have I used the financial excuse yet?” The two of you weren’t struggling by any means, in fact, you were both pretty well off financially.

“Yeah.”

“What about the career or sex excuse?” you questioned, shifting to lean up against the pillows. You had your dream job but worried that your dedication and passion towards your career would eventually take precedence over him. And as much as you didn’t want to believe the old wives’ tale, you were concerned that sex after marriage wouldn’t be so great. The nightmare of having your passionate nights turn to reruns of vanilla faked orgasms and time wasted, flashed into your mind.

“Heard ‘em both.”

“Uhh…” you stuttered, attempting to come up with another reason. “We’re young?”

“We’re young?” he mocked, letting out a slight chuckle. “You know, those are all shit excuses. What’s really holding you back?” You fell silent. You had never told him the one reason you were actually avoiding marriage.

Tears stung the corner of your eyes, and a lump formed in the back of your throat. “I worried about the commitment,” you croaked.

He propped himself up on his elbows, facial expression softening at your words. “What?” he asked, his voice soft, barely above a sweet whisper.

“I’m worried that if we get married, you’ll eventually get tired of me, and a couple of years later…” you trailed off.

“…we’ll end up getting a divorce,” he said, picking up where you had left off. You nodded, breaking eye contact, and settling your gaze on one of the newly painted bedroom walls. They were a hideous shade of brown George had picked out. You had wanted to paint the room a pale blue, but due to his persistence, you gave into his choice of color. After a moment of silence, you returned back to his gaze. His sapphire eyes, filled with love, stared at you intently as he moved to pull you towards his chest. He cradled you in his arms, absentmindedly playing with your hair. Your bottom lip began to quiver, and suddenly you were a puddle of tears. His body heat and soft scent overloaded your already emotional brain.

“Who says we’ll get divorced, huh?”

“Statistics?”

“I’m not worried about the numbers, love. I don’t think we’re going to end up-”

You cut him off. “What if you get tired of me or decide you don’t love me anymore.” His sincere expression broke as he chuckled. “What? Why are you laughing?”

“Do you really think I’d get tired of you if I’ve stuck with you this long?”

“I don’t know. That’s what the problem is!”

“Fuck it,” he grumbled, pushing you off slightly to rifle through his bedside drawer. “I was trying to save this for a better time, but do you wanna marry me or not?” He said turning to you, a tiny box in hand.

“wHat?” Tears began to stream down your cheeks. You quickly moved to wipe them, but George was already taking your hands away from your face to brush them away for you.

“Love, I know how this conversation usually goes, but I just… I wanna be with you…” He trailed off as your head began to spin.

You bit your lip, your eyes darting from the ring to his soft gaze. “What if I’m not what you want?”

“If you aren’t, then why would I be asking you to marry me?” You could find no reason other than fear to say no. In your three years together, he had managed to ease you out of so many of your irrational fears. This could be no different, could it? You turned back to him, your heart swelling with love for him. “Do you trust me?” His ocean blue eyes searched for the answer he hoped you would give.

You reached up to dig your hands into his locks as he smoothed another one of your tears away. You tugged him towards you to press your lips against his, attempting to say everything you had been holding back in this one seal of affection, your fingers brushing again

“I’ll take that as a yes…” he questioned after both of you pulled away, his strong hands cupping your face.

“Of course I will. After all, you’re the only one who has been able to deal with my crazy ass.”

“And now I’ll never be able to get rid of the most beautiful ass in the world,” he giggled, slipping the ring on your finger and pressing a kiss to your lips once again.

#george mackay #george mackay x reader #george mackay imagines #george #george mackay fluff #fluff #proposal #imagine #one shot #x reader #1917 imagines #1917 imagine #1917

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pennylanefics · 4 years

Text

☾ a collection of fics, blurbs, and moodboards ☽

☁︎ - angst | ☀︎ - fluff | ♡ - personal favorite

Dean-Charles Chapman

cuddles | ☀︎

visiting | ☀︎

first date to first dance | ☀︎♡

Golden Globes Jealousy | ☀︎

Premiere | ☀︎

Accident | ☁︎

five more minutes | ☀︎

Soft Alphabet | ☀︎

Those Magic Changes - 50s AU | ☀︎

Understanding Love | ☀︎

parent-shaming strangers | ☀︎

Tom Blake

Till We Meet Again | ☀︎

Promise Me | ☁︎

Newborn | ☁︎ pt. 2 | ☀︎

Insecure | ☀︎

touch | ☁︎

Soft Alphabet | ☀︎

overwhelmed | ☀︎

Matt (Blinded by the Light)

confession | ☀︎

party | ☀︎

untitled blurb | ☀︎

betrayal | ☀︎

Soft Alphabet | ☀︎

Friends to Lovers | ☀︎

Distraction | ☀︎

quick make out | ☀︎

Dean & his characters

wearing his clothes | ☀︎

falling asleep | ☀︎

George Mackay

Insecurities | ☁︎

Will Schofield

Home | ☁︎☀︎♡

Come Back | ☁︎♡

Reunited | ☀︎

christmas news | ☀︎

Hope is a Dangerous Thing | ☁︎

A Promise pt. 1 | ☁︎♡ part 2 | ☁︎☀︎♡

moodboard masterlist

#masterlist #imagines #fanfiction #fanfic

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ohtheseboysilove · 4 years

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The greatess actress II [Ben Hardy x F!Reader]

sWords : 4, 000 K +

Warnings : mostly angst, fluff

Summary : Things aren’t always as they seems.

Note : More angst for you guys, I know you all ask for it so here you go :) I’m really gmad for all the reviews and positive feedbacks I had for the first chapter so thank u so much ! I didn’t start writing chapter 3 yet but I have few ideas so if you guys have suggestions or theories I would love to heart hat !!! (i mostly replied to the messages in my inbox bc it’s easier to see them than the comments !!) Much love xx

x Masterlist x

“And…action !”

You pretended to leave and Ben grabbed your wrist, tugging him against him rather roughly. You put a flat hand on his torso and looked at him with big, lost eyes.

“What—”

“Don’t say anything, baby” Then he crashed his lips on yours, sending a wave of electricity down your spine as you replied eagerly to the kiss.

The kiss was intense, slow and hot, during for what seemed like age. You weren’t really complaining. But it was the third time you did this scene because of the director who always wanted to add something and it started to be a bit much for you and your weak heart.

“And we got it ! Awesome guys !” The director jumped from his seat and went behind the camera looking at the screen with enthusiasm. “Everyone, take 5 !”

You sighed discretely and detached yourself from Ben, running a nervous finger through your hairs.

“Are you still coming tonight ?” You glanced toward the blond man, gaze falling right on his swollen lips, tempting and deliciously-looking red.

“Hum, probably ?” You scolded mentally yourself to stop looking at his mouth like a fucking creep and instead focus on his eyes.

Which maybe wasn’t better.

“Oh come on, it’s Randy’s last day ! He won’t forgive you if you don’t come” Ben winked and you chuckled awkwardly, ignoring the way the butterflies were going crazy in your belly.

“I guess you’re right” You smiled almost shyly, his bright and beautiful eyes were always making you kind of timid. “But I won’t stay long, we got an early scene tomorrow” You felt yourself become ridiculously red when he laughed loudly and threw an arm around your shoulders, squeezing you tightly against his strong body.

“You’re right and I’m pretty excited for tomorrow anyway”

You both walked to your trailers, next to each other, as the day was done and you couldn’t wait to go back into your own clothes.

“You are ?” You briefly remembered that the scene you had to do tomorrow was pretty romantic, lot of touchy-feely moments but nothing sexual, thanks god.

“Yeah, I mean…we’re filming at the beach so obviously breaks gonna be funnier than on set” He grinned and you silently swallowed back the disappointment bubbling in your chest.

“The beach, right” You forced a smile. Of course that was the reason why he was excited, idiot. He had a freaking girlfriend for god’s sake. “I will see you later, Ben” You waved awkwardly and climbed the few steps to your trailers before closing the door behind you, barely hearing his answer.

You let your body fall heavily on your bed, feeling exhausted and completely stupid.

It wasn’t the first time you had feelings for one of your co-star, honestly it was hard to stay hermetic when your job was to kiss a handsome and nice guy all day long. Once, you had to film for few weeks with Liam Hemsworth and god, the man was absolutely breathtaking. You had a tiny crush on him during the filming but nothing horrible, it didn’t make your job more complicated or anything. It was fairly innocent. You just enjoyed what a beautiful man he was but you stayed in control easily.

You also dated for two years with one of your previous co-stars, George Mackay but it was pretty obvious from the beginning that the both of you were into each other, which made everything easier.

You didn’t forget either when you had a tiny role in a big Hollywood move where you were only needed to literally make out with Leonardo DiCaprio. It was probably the first time you were so nervous to act, which was ridiculous because you barely spent more than two hours on set. But it was Leonardo freaking DiCaprio, your first crush had been Jack Dawson from Titanic so obviously it was huge for you.

No one probably remembered you from this movie but it was your little moment of pride. You made out with Leonardo freaking DiCaprio.

But nothing could compare to your feelings with Ben. You weren’t prepared at all for the wave of feelings which hit you strong in the face. Not at all.

When you first heard that you would be filming with Ben as co-star, you did some researches and found out it was the guy from the Bohemian Rhapsody movie, you were happy because he was an excellent actor in this film. And you couldn’t denied he was pretty attractive which could help as you were supposed to play lovers in this new project.

It started with an innocent crush, making your friends a bit jealous because you were kissing and holding hands with the new heart-robe of Hollywood. But it turned out to be much more when you started hanging out with him. He wasn’t only handsome. He was really funny, humble, generous, always making sure you were comfortable for any kind of intimate scene but he was also sensitive and not as confident as you thought first.

He was everything you could dream in a boyfriend.

You sighed loudly and rubbed your face roughly, heart beating heavily in your chest.

Why did you have to fall in love with an unavailable man ?

“We’re gonna miss you, big guy !” You watched Ben cheekily tussled Randy dirty red hairs, a large smile on his face.

“´f course you will ! But no need to go all emotional on me, Hardy. You’re still invited to my wedding in two months” Randy chuckled, his hand wrapped around a large pint of beer.

You giggled quietly as the two friends hugged again, both of them pretty tipsy after several drinks. Randy was playing one of Ben’s closest friend in the movie but he finished to do all of his scenes and he was now, sadly, leaving the set.

You took a little sip of your Margarita, only the second drinks of the evening for you as you hated being tired or hungover to film. Especially when you had to focus much more with your feelings for Ben, making your job much harder.

“Who is gonna kick my ass at FIFA now ?” The British man complained with a pout, making the whole table giggled.

“Literally everyone, Hardy” Joshua, one of the secondary actor of the movie spoke up, earning a round of applause from everyone.

You let your eyes trailed on Ben for few seconds. You couldn’t help but looked at him. He was so different out of the set, much more relax and you loved even more this part of him. His blond hairs were all over the place, slightly longer than before and it was certainly doing things to you. The way his eyes were sparkling due to the alcohol made your heart beat faster, this childish look was good on him, always wearing his boyish smile which made your knees weak.

And, surprisingly, Isis wasn’t here tonight. You felt like you could breath a little bit easier when she wasn’t around. You were so worried she found out you were in love with her boyfriend, it was scaring you more than everything.

“(Y/N) !” You jumped at Randy's voice and quickly tore your eyes from Ben’s jaw, pushing aside any thoughts.

“Yeah ?”

“I said do you want another drink ?” You nodded weakly and swallowed thickly, feeling nervous to almost been caught day-dreaming about Ben. “What were you looking at so intensely ? This little boyfriend of yours ?” The red hair laughed and pinched the blond’s cheek, making him groaned.

“Hey!” Ben pushed his hands away from his face and looked at you, an amused smile on his features. “I’m pretty sure she wasn’t looking at me, she see me enough all day long”

“True” You grinned and internally screamed. You could never be bored of looking at his pretty face. Never.

“So who where you looking at ? Did someone caught your eyes perhaps ?” Everyone turned, very discreetly, around and started giggling like teenager when they saw a quite charming brunette glancing over the table, few of his friends clearly teasing him.

“I see” Ben winked at you, finishing his drink with one gulp. “I think you should talk to him” He tilted his head toward the guy and you cringed internally.

It was literally the last thing you wanted to do. You didn’t even notice this guy until they all started looking at him. Your luck, obviously.

“I’m not sure about that” You laughed awkwardly and pushed few strands of hairs behind your ear, hoping for something, anything, to save you from talking to this stranger.

“Oh come on ! He is literally devouring you with his eyes” Ben nudged you gently. “And you were doing the same a minute before” He smirked and you were half relieved that he didn’t notice you were ogling him, not this random dude.

“(Y/N) ! (Y/N) ! (Y/N)” You wanted to disappear right now. You watched your friends cheering your name until you had enough and decided to agree, walking to the bar where you knew the guy would meet you too. “Go get it girl !” Randy drunkenly yelled and you felt your whole face turned red.

“Hey” You looked at the brunette, he wasn’t bad looking clearly. Curly hairs and cute dimples. Totally your type before you fell for a blond beefy guy.

“Hi” You smiled nervously and discreetly glanced toward Ben, looking for any kind of reassurance that he was maybe a bit annoyed by the fact that you were talking to another guy.

You couldn’t help yourself but wished that maybe he was sharing your feelings. Deep down. Maybe he was falling for you too but still confused with Isis. Conflicted. It was selfish but there were nothing you could do about these thoughts. Except keeping them for you.

But for all answer from Ben, you get a cheeky smile and two thumbs up. Clearly not bothered by the situation. You returned the smile, fake and smaller one before turning around to the man, your throat tight and your heart even more broken.

These feelings were clearly one-sided.

“You look like shit, hun” Molly greeted you as you sat, or rather flopped very graciously, on the chair in front of her, a fuming Costa cup in your right hand.

“That’s why you’re here” You snorted lazily before taking a sip of your coffee, not in the mood to talk much.

She glanced at you, feeling the mood immediately and decided to start your hairs and makeup in silence, humming quietly.

The whole crew was at the beach for the day and the place was truly breathtaking, a little creek mostly quiet except for the soft rolling of the waves. It was still dark outside, the sun barely peaking up and you needed to get the perfect scene as the director really wanted the whole sun rising romantic moment for your and Ben’s characters.

“Ten minutes before we started !” You sighed quietly and quickly finished your coffee, feeling already done with this way too cute scene for you.

Ben waved at you from his chair, Isis not far from him, both of them getting ready too. Yeah, like it wasn’t hard enough for you, Isis managed to get a small part as an extra for few scenes. Easy when you dated the main actor. And even more when you were as gorgeous as she was.

“All done, honey” You thanked Molly and rose on your feet, walking toward the small wardrobe department to get your clothes for the shoot.

A cute little yellow bikini and a pair of sunglasses were all you needed for today. The thought of spending so much time near Ben with so little clothes on was stressful. You nearly fainted when you spotted him walking in his blue swim trunk, a beach towel lazily hanging from his right shoulder.

What a sight.

And…action !“

You took a deep sight and blocked every other thoughts than the ones about Ellie, the character you were portraying in this movie.

"I’m glad we decided to come here” Ben or rather Will, murmured in your ear, hands softly resting on your hips as you were perched on his lap.

“Me too” You slightly turned your head just enough to catch his eyes, smiling sweetly.

The scene was indeed very romantic. Kind of cliché but still, it was making your heart beat much faster. Ben was seating on the white sand, his body pressed against you was bringing shivers down your frame.

Your group of friends were seating around a camp fire, giggling and chatting as you and Ben were with them but in your own bubble, looking at each other lovingly.

As the sun slowly rose, you continued to act as you had to, suppressing the love which was wrapping your entire body every time you looked at him. Few kisses were exchanged, few touches as well and other sweet little attentions between the two of you, carefully following the script.

It was even harder because for you everything felt so natural. When you had to play with his hairs at the back of his neck you weren’t acting, not really. It was easy, like you done it your whole life. When Ben rested softly a hand on your knee you didn’t feel awkward or nervous, it felt right. And it had been like that since day one.

“You’re not too cold ? I felt you shiver during our scene” Ben whispered as you had a mini break, waiting for everyone to go back at their assigned spots.

You wanted to laugh at his innocent remark. God bless this sweet, innocent Ben. Yes it wasn’t very warm but the simple feeling of your half naked body against mine was the only main reason of my shivers.

But you simply nodded. “Yeah but it’s alright we’re almost done with this scene anyway” You patted his shoulder nicely and he gently rubbed your forearm, in a nice attempt of keeping your warm.

Few hours later and you were still on the beach, few more scenes to film with this time, the sun high in the sky and the heat nicely warming your skin.

You shielded your vision to watch Ben cockily walked toward you, his body dripping wet from the bath he just took in the sea.

“Hey there” He grinned and didn’t lost a minute before laying on top of you, making you squirmed under him at the freshness of the water.

“Get off me idiot !” You giggled and tried to wiggle your way out but his strong body was easily caging you.

“Can’t do that, you’re really comfy” He laid even more on you and you let out a shaky breath as you could feel every muscles of his body against yours. “Everyone is having fun, except you, come on !” You gasped when he ran his wet hand in your hairs, purposely messing them on your face before moving off you.

“I’m reading a very good book” You weakly replied, the lie tasting bitter on your tongue.

You were just avoiding going near his girlfriend. You were on a break for a little hour and most of the crew was in the water and you would love to join them. But Isis was there too, gaining most of the attention as she was always speaking loudly or giggling. And did you mentioned how pretty she was ? Everyone could see that too. So you just felt awkward next to her, stupid really but she was so confident and dating Ben. You were so scared that somehow she noticed how you looked at him and understood what was going on. It would be a total mess if she did.

“Yeah, whatever” The blond rolled his eyes at you bad excuse before catching your hips and throwing you over his shoulder. You screamed from the top of your lungs as he run toward the water, chuckling louder every time you asked, rather yelled, him to let you go.

He threw you on the water as everyone cheered, apparently really amused by his stupid joke. You felt two hands quickly grabbing you from under the water and you took a big breath, the salty water dripping on your face.

“You’re alright ?” Ben’s giant smile immediately warmed you up. You clenched your hands on his shoulder, wiping the water from your features with your free hand, couching a bit at the salty taste.

“Asshole” You mumbled as you pushed your hairs away from your face. You slapped his chest when he audibly laughed. ”This is so not funny ! I was fine on my towel" You protested but couldn’t suppress the amused smiled from blossoming upon your face.

“Why are you laughing then ?” Ben teased you and you rolled your eyes before swimming away from him, heart fluttering heavily at the simple interaction you just had with him.

Why he had to be so bloody cute with you all the time ? It wasn’t helping your case.

You looked behind your shoulder toward Ben and your smile dropped immediately when you spotted Isis, hanging around his neck as they shared a giggling kiss.

He was just being friendly, get your shit together for god’s sake, (Y/N).

You didn’t miss the suspicious glance that Isis threw you, her brows slightly furrowed like she was in deep reflection. She gave you a little smile when she caught your eyes on her before she focused back on the British man.

You deeply hoped she wasn’t thinking anything about this little friendly moment between you and Ben.

“Baby, can you put me some sun-cream on ?” You raised your head toward Ben and stood up, grabbing the protection from his hand.

“You knew you could do it yourself” You commented as you applied a small amount of cream in your hand before rubbing it onto Ben’s large shoulders.

“I can’t reach some part” He grinned, sunglasses hanging low on his nose.

It was like the universe like to torturing you. Every scene you had to do was painfully touchy today and it was putting you under a strong pressure. Isis’ intense gaze on you wasn’t helping either, she watching with attention every of your interactions with her boyfriend.

It wasn’t your fault, you were just acting right now. But you felt incredibly uncomfortable under her eyes. Like you were doing something wrong. Which you weren’t as it was your freaking job.

“You’re just lazy, Will” You rolled your eyes and kept rubbing the sun-cream on his back, breathing quickening as you reached his hips. “Done” You announced before he turned around, welcoming you with his beautiful and chiselled face.

“Why about here, hum ?” He cheekily drummed his digits on his firm pectoral. He cocked his head to the side, wearing your favourite boyish smile. “Don’t wanna burn” He pouted and you bit your lips, finding him unfairly adorable.

You quickly stopped your day dreaming and scoffed as you were supposed to, pretending to be annoyed.

“You’re a pain in the ass, Will” You repeated the same actions, pouring cream in your hands before rubbing it on his warm torso, goosebumps spreading all over your skin,

“But you love me anyway” He replied with a little smile, pushing his sunglasses on the top of his head.

“Yes, I do” You murmured and, not without difficulty, grinned at him. You were supposed to be happy but the painful truth hiding behind your words was hard to get along with.

“Your hands are so much softer than mine” The blond sighed as he closed his eyes, your pads barely touching his abs. You couldn’t go further or you would literally combust.

“That’s because you never want to put night cream on yours, silly” You said and took few steps away as he lowered his head toward you, eyes still closed. You sighed loudly and quickly rubbed the sun cream on his face.

“No, no ! Stop !” The director made you jump as Ben opened his eyes, both of you looking at him. “(Y/N), darling, you were doing perfectly fine but this last scene…you need to be gentle and tender, alright ? It’s supposed to be a romantic scene between Ellie and Will, not looking like you just want to get ride of him” You chuckled weakly and nodded, watching the director going back to his chair.

“Already annoyed with my presence ?” Ben teased as he went back to his previous position.

You simply smiled and waited for the green light of the cameramen before executing the script. You slowly rubbed your fingers against his face, caressing every of his features without looking away from his eyes, giving to the director all the love he wanted. You swallowed thickly at your proximity, his eyes not leaving yours for a second as you kept caressing his strong cheekbones.

“There you go” You rubbed the remaining of cream on his neck and locked your arms behind it, repressing a shiver when his hands found your face.

You absolutely adored how his digits slid softly on your skin, cupping your jaw like if you were the most precious thing in the world. His thumb gently caressing your cheek as he pressed a sickly sweet kiss on your lips. You could feel the warmth coming from his chest and the pleasant sigh which escaped your mouth wasn’t for the act anymore.

There were absolutely not better feeling in the world.

You let out a deep breath as you snuggled further into your hoodie, the warmth of the day already fading away as the sun disappeared slowly. You grabbed your phone and answered few texts, exhaustion rolling down your bones.

“Are you texting the guy from yesterday ?” You shook your head lazily, letting a yawn escaping your mouth as Joshua, who was playing your brother, sat next to you. “Why not ?”

“Not really interesting” You didn’t bother explaining further, to tired for that. ”How it’s going with Danny ? When he is coming already ?“

Joshua’s eyes immediately lighted up at the mention of his boyfriend.

"Very well, thanks” He beamed and showed you his new screen lock, an adorable picture of the two of them with their new puppy. You let out a little aww and Joshua smiled wider. “He is coming next week, I can’t wait to see him ! And to introduce him to you !”

You listened to his exciting chatting, a little pinching for your heart at how happy and in love he was.

You groaned and get up from your chair as Ben was late for filming. You knew Isis was around so they probably just didn’t see the time, laying in bed. Still, it wasn’t something Ben did often, he was always in time and ready to work.

You swallowed roughly as you walked to his trailer, praying they weren’t shagging because you didn’t know how your heart would take it.

“It’s my freaking job, Isis !” You jumped at Ben’s loud voice followed by few cursing words.

You froze and decided smartly to not knock on the door and instead waited patiently next to the trailer, ear dropping shamelessly. You shouldn’t but you couldn’t help yourself.

“Well, I don’t like it at all, Benjamin !” She yelled back and you heard him sighing, probably knowing he was already late and his girlfriend wasn’t helping. “You didn’t see the way she look at you !”

You felt the same way as the day your best friend from high school threw you a bucket of freezing water on your head. You stopped breathing by fear they would hear you and tried your best to not panic.

Was she talking about you ?

Of course she was ! Who else could be the She ? You were done, done, done. The rest of the filming would be just awkward because of you and your stupid feelings.

"Oh my god, Isis ! We already had this conversation, (Y/N) is simply doing her job, alright ? You need to stop being so paranoiac for Christ’ sake !”

You felt yourself sweating uncomfortably as you listened to them, heart beating like crazy. This was a nightmare.

“She is not acting anymore Ben ! Open your damn eyes for once !” Isis groaned as she slammed a cup loudly on the table, making you jumped again. “She is not acting at all ! It’s fucking obvious !”

“What are you saying Isis ?” Ben muttered, clearly done with this argument. “Come on, enlighten me as apparently you know better than everyone !”

There a beat of complete silence, your muslces completely tetanised as you waited for her answer.

Isis let out a sarcastic, cold laugh. It worried you a lot. And then she pronounced these six little words which would make your heart stop.

“She is fucking in love with you, Ben”

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