#will schofield smut

[storiesforallfandoms]

early morning ~ will schofield;1917

word count: 2203

request?: yes!

@lilah1020​: “Imagine Will schofield fluffy smut with wife reader”

description: on a rare occasion when they wake up before their children, they decide to take advantage of the time to be intimate

pairing: will shofield x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut (oral - f receiving, unprotected p in v, praising, dirty talk)

masterlist (one, two, three)

Having two children - especially two young children at that - meant very little “alone time”. The girls were usually the first ones awake in the house, and thus would run into their parents’ room to wake them up. Between work, house chores, and looking after the kids, there wasn’t much time for Will and (Y/N) to be alone. And by the end of the night, when the kids were bathed and in bed, they were just too tired for any form of physical intimacy.

It was hard. Not that either of them thought they needed physical intimacy for their marriage to work. After their oldest daughter was born, they knew sex was going to be few and far between, and they definitely knew that’s how it would be after their second daughter was born. They were aware of it, and they were more than okay with that sacrifice at first. But the complete lack of sex had been hard for both of them.

It was a rare morning where (Y/N) wasn’t woken by a tiny body jumping on her. Her eyes slowly blinked until the sleep was completely out of them. The room was quiet. In fact, the whole house was quiet. No small voices yelling, no hushed voices beside her as Will tried to convince the girls to let their mother sleep. Nothing. Just silence.

(Y/N) rolled over to see Will sleeping peacefully beside her. She smiled as she looked at his handsome face. Every day she thought to herself about how lucky she was to have him; how lucky she was to have their little family.

As if sensing her eyes on him, Will slowly stirred. He opened one eye, then smiled as he closed it again. “Good morning, love.”

“Good morning,” she responded.

“Where are the girls?”

“Still asleep.”

Will had stretched his arms out, but paused after hearing her response. “Really?”

(Y/N) nodded. “Listen.”

They both paused, taking in the silence of the house. Will looked shocked at the revelation. “They’re asleep? They actually are not awake before us for once?”

(Y/N) giggled and nodded again. “I guess they were really tired after last night.”

The night before, the Schofields had been to a neighborhood celebration that included a barbecue and fireworks to end the night. Will and (Y/N) had let the girls stay up late so they could enjoy the festivities. By the time they got home, the adrenaline (and the sugar) from the night was finally wearing off and, within seconds, they were asleep.

Seemed it was enough to keep them asleep past their usual wake up time.

Will looked like he was still trying to understand the fact that his daughters were actually still asleep. (Y/N) was still pretty shocked herself. She was almost convinced that she was dreaming, and she would soon actually be woken up by her two energetic daughters.

“Love,” Will said.

“Yes, darling?” (Y/N) responded.

Will took her face in his hands and pulled her into a kiss. It was passionate and needy from the moment their lips met. (Y/N) took hold of Will’s shirt, clenching the material between her fists as she held him to her. One of his hands moved from her face to slip under the night shirt she was hearing. When his hand touched her bare skin, it ignited her. It left a fiery, tingling feeling in his wake. One that trailed down her body and between her legs. She was yearning for him. She needed him so desperately, just from kissing and a few gentle touches.

Will slowly laid (Y/N) on her back, his lips still attached to hers. When he pulled away, she tried to follow him. He chuckled and eased her back down on the bed. He moved to her neck, kissing the soft area all over until he found the spot that made her whimper. He kept his focus on that spot, sucking and biting until he was sure he had left marks. He pushed up her night gown to expose her breasts. She gasped as he put his mouth to one of them, circling her nipple with his tongue. His hand fondled her other breast, rolling the nipple until it was hard and pointed, then took that one in his mouth as well.

A moan slipped from her lips. She quickly covered her mouth as Will’s mouth let go of her breast to shush her.

“Sorry,” she said in a whisper. She put her hand back over her mouth as his kissing continued downwards.

He left wet, open mouth kisses over her stomach and down towards her mound. Her breath hitched and a muffled whimper came from around her hand at the feeling of his hot breath against her already dripping wet pussy. Desperation was rising within her. She was so close to begging for him to touch her, she didn’t even care how he’d do it. She just needed to feel him, to have him pull that release from her again like he always knew how to. But she didn’t have to beg, because he wasted no time in attaching his lips to her clit.

A gasp ripped from (Y/N)’s lips, her hand moving away from her mouth to grab hold of Will’s hair. She gently tugged it by accident, but it earned her a moan from him. The vibration from it sent shockwaves through her body. She bit down on her bottom lip to try and keep her moans quiet, but it felt almost impossible. She hadn’t felt this good in a long time, and it was hard to not let that out. His tongue against her felt heavenly as he licked long stripes from her pussy to the tip of her clit.

“F-Fuck,” (Y/N) whispered. “God, Will, that feels so fucking good.”

Will peered up at his beautiful wife, writhing in pleasure above him. Her eyes were shut and her head was thrown back, with one hand in his hair and the other gripping the sheets beneath her. She looked angelic, and her quiet noises of pleasure definitely sounded like they were coming straight from a heavenly angel. He wanted to be inside her desperately. He needed to feel her warm walls around his throbbing hard cock. But he wanted to make her feel good first, because he wasn’t sure how long he’d last once he was inside her.

“Are you close, love?” he asked her, continuing to stroke her clit with his thumb while his mouth was absent. She nodded, her eyes still tightly shut. “Look at me, my love.”

She managed to force her eyes open to look down at Will. He smiled at her face, already fucked out and he hadn’t even fucked her yet.

“Cum for me, my love,” he coaxed. “Cum for me and I’ll give you what you want.”

The minute his mouth pressed against her again, she did exactly as he requested. Her head fell back onto the pillow again, and she quickly clapped a hand over her mouth as the pleasure tore through her. Will lapped at her pussy, taking every last drop of her juices as if he needed it to survive. Her body trembled so violently that she wasn’t sure it would ever stop.

Her head was fuzzy, in a good way. She felt like she was on cloud nine as Will kissed up her body again. He placed a sweet yet passionate kiss against her lips. She could taste herself on his mouth, which just turned her on again.

Will stood from the bed just long enough to pull his boxers off and kick them to the side. (Y/N) all but yanked him back to the bed when his lower half was naked. His hard cock pressed against her thigh as his lips found hers again. Her hips bucked in an attempt to gain some friction between them.

Will chuckled. “Impatient thing, aren’t you?”

“We don’t have long,” she reminded him. “And you promised to give me what I wanted.”

“You’re right, I did promise that.” His tip nudged her entrance, earning him another gasp. “And I intend on keeping that promise.”

He pushed into her slowly, letting both of them feel every inch of his cock filling her up. He kissed her, letting his mouth swallow her moans. He lowered himself so he was pressing against her as much as he could without crushing her, resting his elbows on either side of her head.

“You feel so good,” he mumbled against her lips. “I almost forgot how good this pussy felt.”

“Please, Will,” she begged. “Make love to me.”

He kissed her. “You don’t have to beg, love. I’ll give you exactly what you want.”

When he slowly pulled his hips back and thrust them forward at the same pace, (Y/N) could’ve swore she saw stars. It was the simplest movement, but it brought so much pleasure that it made her head spin. She grabbed at his shoulders to try to ground herself.

“You’re so beautiful,” Will whispered as he continued his slow thrusts. “God, I’ve missed seeing you like this. You’re so gorgeous when you’re all wrapped around my cock like this.”

Her only response was another moan. Will decided not to quiet her this time. He missed hearing these sounds. He wished he could record them to have with him whenever he was away from her.

He kissed her, sweetly. As if he was giving her a good morning kiss and wasn’t buried deep inside of her.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you, too,” she responded. It was the only coherent thought in her head. “I love you so much. Fuck, Will.”

“Do you feel good, my love?” She nodded. “Do you think you could cum one more time for me? I promise I’ll fill you up after.”

She nodded again. Will reached between them and started rubbing circles against her clit as his thrusts started picking up. (Y/N) barley had time to register her orgasm before it was already upon her. Will pressed his lips roughly against hers to stop her loud cries of pleasure. Feeling her tightening around him made him cum shortly after she did, his thrusts stilling so he could fill her up like he promised.

They weren’t sure how long they were tangled together, coming down from their climaxes. All concepts of life outside of this moment was lost on them. They just knew the lightheaded feeling of post-orgasm bliss. Will was pressing kisses against (Y/N)’s neck and jaw. She sighed, content to stay this way as long as possible.

Which, unfortunately for them, did not last nearly long enough.

The creaking of a door alerted them first. Their daughters’ bedroom door had always made a noise when it opened. Will had been saying for as long as they could remember that he would fix the door, but had never gotten around to it. Now it seemed to be their saving grace, the only indication that they had mere seconds before two little girls ran into their room.

Will pulled out of (Y/N) and tumbled onto the floor. (Y/N) stifled her laugh at his pained expression as she fixed her night shirt, covering the sticky mess between her legs. Will frantically grabbed for his boxers and pulled them back on just as the two girls rounded the corner and into the room. Their youngest daughter immediately jumped into bed, while their oldest looked at their father in concern.

“Daddy, why are you on the floor?” she asked.

“I - uh - I fell out of bed,” Will responded. “Got all tangled in the sheets as I was trying to get up and fell right off.”

“Daddy is a little clumsy this morning,” (Y/N) added.

“Is it because you were up so late last night?” the youngest girl asked.

Will nodded. “Yes. Yes, it’s definitely because of last night.

Their oldest got onto the bed with (Y/N). (Y/N) put both arms around her girls and pulled them close to her, kissing them on top of their heads.

“You both slept in pretty late,” she said.

“Because we stayed up late,” the youngest said. “Like grown ups do.”

“Don’t get used to it,” (Y/N) said. “You’re not growing up any time soon. In fact, I’ve decided that you’ll both be my little girls forever.”

Both girls started to speak at the same time, protesting their mother’s decision. Will chuckled as he leaned across the bed to also kiss his daughters.

“What do you girls say we head downstairs and start making breakfast? Let mummy get herself cleaned up for the day.”

He shot her a look that made her face heat up. The girls agreed and bounded out the door again before Will could follow them. He and (Y/N) shared a look before chuckling. Will leaned in to kiss (Y/N) one more time before reluctantly tearing away from her and their bed.

“I’m keeping them up until midnight tonight,” he said as he started walking out the door. “Maybe then I’ll have you all to myself tomorrow morning.”

[ias2xoo]

☞𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐀𝐫𝐞

𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴; will schofield

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨; angst, war trauma, ptsd, arguments, smut included

..••°°°°••..

“ˢᵒᵐᵉᵈᵃʸ ᵈᵃʳˡⁱⁿᵍ, ˢᵒᵐᵉʷʰᵉʳᵉ

ⁿᵉᵃʳᵉʳ ᵒʳ ᶠᵃʳ

ᵈʳᵉᵃᵐˢ ʷⁱˡˡ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵗʳᵘᵉ ᵈᵉᵃʳ

ʷʰᵉʳᵉᵛᵉʳ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ,”

The soft summer breeze sifted around your bare legs as you sat in your backyard. It was the beginning of April and you could already see the summer pink blossoms on the trees. Thus marking today the perfect day to have a barbecue. You & Will’s friends; Amy and Booker - whom he had met in the war - to spend the day with you.

“Oh, look at those clouds.” Booker exclaimed, hand equipped with a charred spatula flicking up towards those sky.

“Yes, they always look so beautiful this time of year.” Amy calmly noted as she sat in the lawn chair next to yours with a glass of lemonade in hand, handing you one as well.

“You tend to find yourself looking up a lot,” Booker murmured, eyes wandering a bit. A habit you often found your own William doing. A mindless habit, one you probably would never notice if you weren’t aware of what the two young men had been through. Booker never seemed to finish his sentence as Will walked out the house with a case of beers.

You stared at your fiancé’s back as he set the case on the table which also held various buns, condiments and drink for your little get together. It had been your idea at first, enlisting your neighbor and long time friend Amy who then convinced her husband for the barbecue. You had known Amy for years, originally growing up together then being there for each other as you both watched those you loved walk in to battle, some never returning.

But Will did, and you couldn’t wish for anything else. Every day spent waiting in the living room for that knock at the door, every night staying awake with the thought of his face - it eventually turning blurred and scarred behind your eyelids.

Yet even when he had came back, you felt some part you loved of him had been left and not to be returned. Forever lost on that battlefield with the remains of the war and other lost soldiers never to return to their families. And you hated to say it but you missed it. You missed when he would happily kiss your forehead, not grimace at the sight of your eye contact. You missed him yet there he stood.

Which is what he had done often since he had returned. He stood with a odd sense of uncertainty, that of a ex-soldier that was waiting to be ordered to return to the battlefield. His back - that he rarely let you caress anymore - seemed to shake with tension. You lowered your eyes as your heart ached, mind trailing back to the multiple arguments you both had had on the subject of his return. Where you would scream for him to just look at you again, with that look he once held of you. That look that held so much love and not sadness. Where he would just stare at you before leaving the house, not returning for hours. Your heart yearned for a man that had been lost amidst bullet showers and smoky fire.

As the soft jazz continued, suddenly Amy jumped up in excitement. The unexpected noise from the chair snapping shut undoubtedly causing the rigid tremor in Will’s throat. “Oh, I adore this song!” She sang, putting her finished cup on the side table.

“Yes, we know dear.”

“Mm, dance with me, Book.” She muttered as she kicked off her peach heels. You smiled at the image of your friends.

“Darling, I’ve gotta tend to the food.” He sang in the same tune. He seemed he didn’t mean his words though as Amy’s hand would later replace the spatula. They would enter a rehearsed routine to the jazz number. Their bodies seemed to melt into tune with each other as if they were made for one and other. You stood from the chair softly, smile still tight as you silently cheered on your friends.

In an effort to show your admiration to your fiancé, you turned to where he had just stood yet the yard was barren. This instantly took the smile from your face replacing it with worry. Had he gone again? Not to be seen for hours?

Leaving the jazz and laughter behind, you walked into the eerily silent house. It was empty save for your dog which you had gotten to keep you company all those years. You started with the entryway then the kitchen yet no sign of Will. Finally hearing a soft thump from the floor above you, you began your way upstairs to the bedroom where he awaited.

“William?” You whispered, slowly moving the door open with your fingers.

“Y-yes, I’m here.” He responded from within.

Your feet hesitantly trailed inside, eyes uncertain of what it may see. He sat with his back to you, crouched over attending to something on the floor.

“Are you oka-“

“I just needed a moment, is all.” He quickly shut you off.

Silence befell you both as the soft pangs from the vibrations of the music outside sounded throughout the room. Whenever he was like this you had zero idea how to comfort him. It was like he was a rose, beautiful but hurt to touch. Moments would pass before either of you would speak again.

You stood in place in front of the door as Will rose from the bed, car keys in hand. You starred at his clenched fist as he crossed the room to retrieve his jacket.

“Where are you going?” Seemingly not hearing your question, Will continued stopping in front of you, waiting for you to clear his path.

“Will,”

“I need to go.” He refused to make eye contact with you.

“William, please.”

“Move.” He muttered.

You didn’t speak. You had never seen him like this. His hands clenched tight, arms rigid and unmoving. It scared you for he was almost unrecognizable.

The next moments would go by in a flash. Will would slam the keys on the stand next to you, turning his back to you. You jumped backwards at the speed of his movements. His back seemed to rise and fall abnormally like he was out of breath. He moved across from you, resting his hands on the dresser that stood on the opposite wall.

Despite every bone in your body telling you to leave him, you stayed. You slowly began to move his timid breathing. You now stood behind him, hands hesitantly moving up his back but not touching it out of fear. “Will?” You murmured, finally trailing his muscles. “Baby?”

His back jumped at your touch before slowly relaxing. You felt it vibrate under your fingertips as he seemed to speak. “Hmm?”

It was then he would turn around, eyes slowly trailing up your form to meet with yours. They seemed to scream at you yet he stood perfectly still inches in front of you. Both your bodies pulled towards each other in a almost mindless motion.

Your hands carefully rose up to cup his face bringing towards yours. You both would envelope into a small kiss as if you both were slowly testing a invisible waters within each other. Slowly backing up towards the bed, you both helped the other undress.

Your fingers would make a symphony of his scars as you caressed his chest. He touched you as if you had blossomed into something new, marking words into your flesh to be revised later. You knew he’d come back yet he showed you he had never left. He showed you he had never truly left, that his touch had resided on you, his words traced your being.

He may have been through death itself yet you loved the man who walked out of it. And his touch assured you that you’d find him, wherever he was.

[the1975attheirverybest]

LEAVE MY FRIEND ALONE, Y'ALL DON'T KNOW HER LIKE SOME OF US DO😭

For real. Some mf think if they see my blog they see the inside of my soul. Like dude this is a matty healy smut blog.

Here are a few things about me:

1. I love Tana Mongeau. I have for a while but especially nowadays with the whole Clinton Kane/ Brooke Schofield drama. I will go over every detail of that with anyone who lets me. Oh and Trisha Paytas too.

2. I am a STAN of The Weeknd (that always gets me wild asks lmaooo)

3. I had to talk a loved one into buying a shoe from a company that SUPPORTS Israel because no other brand had the type of shoe for this persons specific foot problem and giving yourself a long term illness down the line because of badly fitting shoes is not going to help the dying children of Gaza.

Because NUANCEEEE!!!!

4. I go through reality tv phases I used to watch the Kardashians old show. Now I’m on a Gypsy Rose Blanchard hype. Is that baby Ken’s? Ryan’s???? Whatever will she do about the birth certificate???

5.i have been known to crack a smile or make a joke or two. If I’m feeling crazyyyy.

[hellitwasyoufirstsergeant]

hellitwasyoufirstsergeant’s writing masterlist

Eddie Munson:

“I’m So Lonely” - you finally confess to Eddie how lonely you’ve been feeling, angst to fluff

Safe in His Arms - you finally confront your feelings for your friend Eddie after yet another nightmare, smut

Happy Trail - coming soon

Steve Harrington:

Consonants and Kisses - Steve is pretty drunk, and also pretty enamoured with you, fluff

Donald Malarkey:

A Soldier’s Silent Battle - Malarkey and Schofield’s grief, angst

Ronald Speirs:

Horror Stories and Fairytales - Ron tells you a horror story, but does he have hidden motives?, fluff coming soon

1917:

You Don’t Remember the Somme - Schofield reflects on the first day of the battle, angst

A Soldier’s Silent Battle - Schofield and Malarkey’s grief, angst

[nats-reads-reviews]

The Viscount Who Loved Me (Bridgerton #2) by Julia Quinn 3/5⭐️

This is the second book in the series about Anthony Bridgerton and the woman he married, Kate Schofield, after being caught in what looked to be a compromising position with her in his family’s gardens. Anthony didn’t mean to marry her but her sister, Edwina, and Kate wants her sister to have nothing to do with him because he’s labeled a Rake. It has a cute enemies to lovers dynamic but forced marriage due to being caught in compromising position rings too close to the first book to suit me. The plot at times seemed loose and inconsistent. Anthony’s character and the smut scenes really made up for that though. But I’m honestly not too interested in continuing the series. If I continue to read them, I shall review!

[1917-ao3feed]

Age of Consent

by snacctheshacc

The mission if all had gone right. When the war ends, and they go back to their regular lives.

Words: 9428, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: 1917 (Movie 2019)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Relationships: Tom Blake/William Schofield, Tom Blake & William Schofield

Additional Tags: Fix-It, Post-Canon Fix-It, Canon Rewrite, Friends to Lovers, Jealousy, Widowed William Schofield, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Tom Blake Lives, Pining

[propertyofwicked]

when your best friend dies and you forget babies dont have teeth

[strangethings-everywhere]

In The Trenches - George Mackay x Reader

Navigating the trenches and obstacles of No Man’s Land was hard enough during the filming of 1917. No one expected you and lead actor George Mackay to actually have to fight your way out of the set when things suddenly started to go wrong. 

A/N: Here it is! I hope you all enjoy it and I might be writing some more and maybe adding a tagslist, so who knows!

Words: 1562

Warnings: possible spoilers for 1917 (if you squint), cursing, a lil making out

---

No matter how illustrious a film promised to be, the last thing you ever wanted to do was slide on your ass into a death trap replica of a WWI trench and paint actors with just enough mud and fake horse shit and whatever else they needed to look the right amount of miserable. Yet there you were, sliding on your ass into a trench replica to dip your brushes in the mud and then wipe it on people’s faces and so on.

The film itself was an incredible feat of cinematography and physical work, especially from the two leads, Dean and George. They were both sweet young men and were very respectful and cooperative, especially when you had to cover them in various trench shit. 

At that particular moment, you were being led through ‘No Man’s Land’ to where George and Dean were. One of the challenges that Lance Corporals Schofield and Blake faced in the film involved navigating through a boobytrapped German trench and bunker system. Your job was to be ready in case the scene had to be filmed again and makeup had to be fixed. 

As you made your way over to the other trench, you couldn’t help but feel your stomach twist up in knots. You knew why too: George Mackay. The tall, blond, blue-eyed boy had been a constant customer in your makeup chair since filming had started and even before then, you had been on set during the six-month rehearsals. You had watched him and Dean rehearse their scenes and do military drills and you couldn’t deny the fact that you were attracted to him. He was like a magnet.

And the craziest part was he often approached you first. It was terrifying.

You never allowed yourself to dwell on it, which is why the five-ten minute journey from trench to trench was torture. By the time you reached your destination, your hands were shaking. 

“You know he has to film his scenes, right? You don’t have to talk to him.” Rachel, the other hairstylist, offered you a comforting smile. She knew all about your infatuation with George. 

“I know, but part of me wants to. The other side of me wants to take this golf cart and drive as far away as I can.” You whined, showing her a weak smile in return. She laughed. 

“C’mon Juliet. Let’s go find Romeo and make sure his foundation isn’t running.” 

“You aren’t funny. At ALL.” You groaned, sliding out of the cart.

The crew was usually set up in a base camp, and the cameras would follow Dean and George wherever they were going because of how the movie was being shot.

Unfortunately for us, they had already done one take and needed to do it again. This meant we had to go into the German bunker and fix the boys’ makeup. 

“You know, when I applied to be a makeup artist in the movie world, I didn’t think I’d be drudging through trenches.” You muttered to Rachel as an assistant led you through the bunker, all of you holding flashlights. She snorted.

“You know, me neither.” A very familiar British accent ascended from the darkness, causing you to let out a shriek. The accent began to laugh and revealed himself to be the one and only George Mackay. 

“Oh shit Y/N, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He grinned. George was covered in ‘dust’ and ‘debris’ from the disaster he had just recently survived, which meant you would have to clean him off and reapply what you could. 

“Oh you asshat.” You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. “C’mon, where can I fix you up?”

“This way. Oh, and Dean should be this way too.” George hooked his thumbs in the straps of his pack and began down a passageway, you and Rachel close at his heels. “Be careful.” He added. 

It didn’t take long for your trio to find the cameramen and Dean, which meant that you and George were off sitting by yourselves. 

And you had to touch his face. 

“So, Y/N…” George began, those blue eyes of his intently watching your face as you worked. You cursed internally; he could see you blushing so hard. 

“So, George… or do I call you Lance Corporal William Schofield until we’re done filming?” You asked, turning away for a moment to rummage in your bag. George chuckled. 

“Was that wit and sarcasm, Miss Y/L/N?” He raised an eyebrow. 

“Maybe. I’m feeling bold today.” 

“Alright, I respect that.” 

“Thanks, look up please.” You gently lifted his chin with one shaking hand and then began blotting makeup under his eyes with the other. 

“Why are you shaking?” His voice had softened and he almost sounded nervous himself. Slowly, George removed your hands from his face and held them in his own. “Are you nervous? Cold? Both?” 

“I…” 

Before you could answer, the set started to shake. Across the room, the cameramen lept to their feet and began to run out of the small room, desperate to protect the camera equipment. Dean and Rachel glanced over at you and George, worry etched onto their faces. 

“George?” You squeaked out. You clutched his hand as the ceiling began to spew dust. 

“Y/N, it’s gonna be alright, I promise.” He said slowly. “We have to make our way over to the exit. Dean and Rachel are on their way out, we have to follow.”

“Okay.” 

As soon as we took our first step, the ceiling cracked and the exit caved in, covering us in dust and debris. 

“George?!” You screamed, your throat coated in the terrible dust in the air that you couldn’t cough out. You couldn’t see, and his hand was no longer in your grip. “George?!”

“I’m here!” His cry was muffled, but close. “Y/N, where are you?”

“Okay, George? I can’t see.” You began to scramble along the ground like a madwoman, trying to feel for him. 

“Did you have a flashlight?” 

You had a lighter in your pocket, not for any particular reason, but you had one. By the grace of the good Lord, it was still there. “George, I have a solution.”

“Thank goodness!”

“It involves fire.”

“Absolutely not.”

“George!” You groaned and pulled the lighter out of your pocket. You gave it a few flicks and suddenly there was a warm pocket of light surrounding you. “George, come to the light!” 

He was there in a second, his hair wild and his grin full of relief and joy. “Thank god,” George whispered, reaching forward to wipe some dust off your face. “You know, this is supposed to be a stunt.” 

“You’re so not funny right now.” You grinned. 

“I’m not trying to be. This is supposed to be a stunt.” George moved closer, his eyes shining in what little light you had. “But if I had to be trapped down here with anyone, I’m glad it’s you.” 

If breathing wasn’t already difficult because of the dust, his words almost stopped your breath entirely. “W-What?” 

George slid the lighter from your hand and wedged it between some rocks, out of your way. “Y/N, you know exactly what I said.”

You blinked a few times. 

“Yes, yes I do.” You took a deep breath, grabbed his dusty military uniform, and pressed your lips to his. 

George was stunned, a small squeak escaping him before his senses finally returned to him. He seemed almost frustrated that his body wouldn’t move fast enough as he slid his arms around you and yanked you up onto his lap. You detached one hand from the straps of his uniform and slid it into his hair, pulling ever so slightly. George sucked in a sharp breath, his grip tightening on your waist. 

“Shit, Y/N.” He hissed against your lips. Those blue eyes held a look you’d never seen before. They were dark, hungry. In the flickering flame from your lighter, he looked almost scary, like he was looking for something to consume.

Somebody to consume.

“George…” You whispered, gently running your fingers through his hair again. His eyes fluttered shut and he let out a satisfied hum. He pressed his lips lightly to yours, then pulled away and dropped his head into the crook of your neck with a shaky exhale. 

“Mm Y/N we aren’t supposed to be doing this.” He murmured. With every movement of his mouth against your skin, the knots in your stomach got tighter and tighter. “So when we get out of here, will you go to dinner with me?” 

“Dinner?” You grinned. George glanced up at you, a hopeful smile gracing his lips. 

“Yeah, I just thought-”

“OI, GEORGE? Y/N? YOU ALIVE?” Light broke into the little room and Dean’s voice followed. You quickly slid off George’s lap and grabbed your lighter. 

“Hey, George?”

“Yeah?” 

You took his hand and squeezed it gently. “I’d love to have dinner with you, as long as I don’t get stuck in any more trenches.”

He laughed. “No promises, but I’ll do my best. For you.”

[ditch-witches]

Insufferable (ii) - George MacKay x reader

(PART 1) (PART 3) (PART 4)

requested: yes/no (im still using the same request bye)

God bless @/okay.l0z

"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?"

pairing: George MacKay x reader

warnings: oral (fm. receiving [I k n o w]), bAd wOrDs

word count: 2,751

a/n: Hey, me again.

that's all. hope you guys are having a good day!

Your nerves were aflutter as you headed from the backstage to find Mark, who apparently was positioned outside one of the back doors ready to meet the cast and support you. You grinned to yourself finally feeling a sense of hope for your scatters of a relationship with the man as you popped open the door and he smirked at you slightly. He wrapped an arm around you and you began leading him through the maze of backstage, the bustle of a soon to be curtain call keeping everyone on high alert. He swiveled around behind you looking rather overwhelmed as his eyes fought to rip from some of the extras playing prostitutes. You rolled your eyes and brushed it off before bumping into someone.

As soon as George noticed it was you, a smile played at his lips, ready to quirk something in your direction before noticing the man behind you. "Oh, good. You're here!" You stated, stepping from between the two. You didn't tuck yourself beneath Mark's arm as he placed a hand on your waist to suggest you do. You also didn't opt to take his hand, somehow wanting to keep a distance from him in front of George. George seemed to notice this as he sent you a sly look that you hoped Mark wouldn't notice. "George, this is Mark. He's my..." you trailed off, unsure of what to say Mark was but George perked his eyebrows up and shook Mark's hand without hesitation to relieve you from doing so. "Mark, George is playing Charlie." You tried not to beam at the fact that your work was finally coming to life.

Mark narrowed his eyes slightly. "And Charlie is..." He bit his lip and you froze in your place, not looking at Mark as he did this.

"Charlie's the Roman Emperor that eats baby heads and carries an ax," George broke in with an expression of severity. You closed your eyes slightly, biting back a laugh. Mark nodded, his reaction being genuine while George's nods and mannerisms were sarcastic. He was jousting.

"Oh yeah, he's pretty cool. I think he might be my favorite character, right babe?" Mark stated, slapping your ass mildly and you jumped, making George snicker. You flashed him a glare. "It was nice to meet you, man."

Mark pushed passed him and George could no longer fight his giggle. "Babe," he mocked and you lightly threw your fist into his stomach as he attempted not to laugh loudly at you.

"Go get your ax," you hissed, following Mark out and into the crowd. You attempted to push the thought of Mark not actually listening to you when you talked about your script into the back of your mind. You also tried not to think about the fact that you had looked forward to seeing George tonight more than you had Mark.

The production had somehow gone off without a problem and left you rather stunned. After the previous day's dress rehearsal, you figured there would be missed lines or faulty costumes, but no. And you hated to admit it, but George was Charlie. After the curtain fell, people were on their feet with applause. The director pulled you into a side hug, congratulating the both of you on such an achievement. Night one: done.

Mark followed you out into the commons area and straight to the concession stand for a rose. The director stood up beside the cast, answering questions and shaking hands. You didn't really mind that you weren't beside him. Mark stuffed his hands in his pockets with a flat look on his face. He hadn't really said anything but you were planning on asking if he liked anything about the play on your way home. George had slung his suspenders off his shoulders and unfastened a few buttons of his white collared shirt, looking like a businessman from the thirties who had just gotten home. He took a picture with a younger girl and as he was signing a program, caught eyes with you and sent you a small grin. Once they had cleared, you stepped up to him. "My liege," he quirked, bowing his head slightly in your direction.

You tried to hold your composure, opting for a soft smile in his direction. "I'm very proud of you. Thank you for doing so well." Your sentence came out with a tone you could recognize, especially when it came to George. His eyes lit up to accompany a smile. You handed him the rose, your hands brushing gently as you did so. "Congratulations."

He smiled wider and leaned towards you to barely press a kiss to your cheek and whisper, "You look gorgeous by the way, babe." You pushed him away from you and rolled your eyes at his small giggle. That was when Mark decided to join you at your side.

"Hey, you little shit. There weren't any Romans." Mark crossed his arms with a look of disappointment on his face.

George furrowed his brows. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Mark nipped and you pinched the bridge of your nose between your thumb and index finger. You knew you wouldn't get a break after this discussion.

"I guess that was the plot twist then, wasn't it?" George asked, looking at you and speaking with the rose.

You shook your head, at his goofy expression and Mark got closer to George, causing him to bend away from him slightly. "If I'm being honest, I didn't know what the hell was going on anyway. Like who wrote that?" You wanted to sulk into a corner and never leave the shadows at Mark's words. You were disappointed but not at all surprised. George's eyes flashed to yours for a split second and then to Mark again. His face was drained of his humor and it was like he could feel your heartbreak, yet he couldn't have known it was actually you that wrote it. Well, you weren't really slick about hiding your passion for it but he couldn't have known.

"Maybe it's because you fell asleep halfway through," George jested with an easy smile. Mark let out a hearty laugh, smacking George's upper arm. You wrung your hands at the two's interaction. "You are trivial," George quipped to Mark, only loud enough for you to hear, the smile still on his face. You side-eyed him and then nudged Mark, gesturing for the door.

"As I was saying, nice job. We should probably meet up at some point to work on your lines in Act III. There's a section that's a little jumbled-"

He cut you off. "What about tomorrow?" You were taken aback slightly but nodded in agreement. George flashed his eyes towards Mark and then back to you as if to ask you why you were leaving with a guy like him. In complete honesty, as you slid into the car next to Mark, you were asking yourself the same thing. What was happening to you?

The next day rolled around rather quickly and before you knew it, George was sitting across from you on your couch, slouching lazily with his script open on his stomach and his arm draped over his eyes. You sat cross-legged at his feet, your laptop beginning to get on your nerves slightly as you made small notes in the margins of a copy of the script and sketched them down on a notebook. George peeked out from beneath his arm to look at you as you attempted to piece together your thoughts. You took your gaze off of your notes to look at him as well. You hated how good he looked, drinking in the sight of him sprawled out in front of you. His presence was almost intoxicating to you. The way his hair was lazily strewn about and his features soft in the lamplight. He was wearing the same hoodie he had given you in the car and it was painful not to reach out and touch it.

You threw in the metaphorical towel momentarily, breaking your gaze and setting your laptop on the coffee table. "I'm getting a beer. Do you want one?" He sent you a nod and as you got up, he reached for his phone in his back pocket.

"Hey, your birthday's coming up right?" He called from the living room as you opened the two bottles. You furrowed your brows slightly and you moved back into the room, handing him his drink.

"Yeah, tomorrow." You raised your eyebrows quickly. "How did you know that?" He put his phone down on your coffee table as well.

He sent you a small shrug. "In secondary school, you gave me a cupcake on your birthday one time. It was like a leftover or something. Right place, right time."

You pulled your knees up and turned to face him. He sat up. "How do you remember this stuff?" You quizzed.

"You're the one holding the grudge against me for something I did before I even hit puberty so..." You rolled your eyes at this. "Anyway, what do you want? If money wasn't a big deal." He flipped his script shut and rested his elbows on his knees, looking at you with a smirk.

You snorted slightly. "A man-made orgasm," you mumbled without thinking, more to yourself than him. He perked up almost instantly.

"You've never had an orgasm?" His expression was rather derisive and taunting.

You blushed slightly at the realization he heard you. "Yes, I've had an orgasm, George," you hissed, breaking your eye contact. "Just not when I'm with someone else..." You took a sip of your drink, wondering why in God's name you were telling him this.

He chuckled. "That's why you're such a bitch all the time? You're sexually frustrated??" He laughed a bit more.

"Okay, rude and uncalled for, MacKay."

George crossed his arms slightly, sinking into the couch and smirking at you. "Why haven't you? Mark's dick too small?"

You bit back a snicker. "No, his favorite movie is Clockwork Orange," you replied sarcastically, sending a cringing expression in the opposite direction he was sitting.

George tilted his head back in a laugh. "So he fucks himself, really. Not you?"

You giggled slightly, shaking your head. "Can we just drop this?"

"No, wait." He swallowed, biting his cheek to keep his grin at bay. "If that's what you want for your birthday... I could help you out?"

You rolled your eyes. "Oh, get over yourself."

"I bet I can get you off." The lift in his voice matched his almost suggestive expression. Your mouth went dry at the thought of George granting your birthday wish made goosebumps run up your back in anticipation. You squeezed your legs together slightly.

"Whatever." You took another sip of your drink. He tilted his head, raising an eyebrow in your direction. "What? Why?"

"It sucks that no one's made you cum! Do you realize what you're missing out on?"

"Sure then, if you're offering," you nipped rather sarcastically.

His expression flipped to almost excitement. "Wait, seriously?" He turned towards you more. You looked up at the ceiling slightly, rolling over the situation in your mind. God, you wanted to agree more than anything. "You deserve it." You turned towards him, narrowing your eyes at him. "I'll be gentle."

You groaned. "That's disgusting." You set your beer bottle down and scooted towards him, he grinned, watching you carefully. "Alright. Go for it," you stated, sitting in front of him. "Do your worst," you quipped. He looked taken aback for a split second before laying one of his hands against your neck and pulling you towards him. The tension that had been building between the two of you dissipated within seconds as his mouth hovered near yours, lightly brushing against your bottom lip without fully pressing his lips to yours. His smell surrounded you once again, returning the feeling you had in the car to your mind. It felt familiar and almost right to be this close to him. You grabbed the front of his sweatshirt, pulling him into you and signing a peace treaty between the two of you with a deep kiss. His breath was hot against your cheek as he sighed into your lips. He pushed his tongue into your mouth, exploring the territory cautiously as his hand moved to tangle in your hair.

He broke your connection to him, leaving you wanting more of him as he gradually moved to press his lips against your jaw and then to your neck, his tongue swirling after each connection he made. Your hand rested on his forearm. "Relax," he hushed rather softly, his breath rolling over the wet spots he had just left against your skin. You let your eyes drift closed, tilting your head away from him to give him more access to continue his tactics. He pulled you into his lap, gripping onto your hip with his other hand. He moved to your collarbones and you let out a breathy moan, feeling heat spread across your body. It had been only a few minutes and you were already more excited than you had ever been with a man. You pulled his chin back up to press your lips together again, you tugging his bottom lip between your teeth and dragging it out. He groaned, breaking away from you to flip you on your back. "I said, relax," he stated, kissing you a few more times before placing a kiss to the lowest part of your neckline and leaning away from you to pull your pants down your legs. The taste of him was still prevalent on your lips as his blue eyes flashed up to you at the sight of your lacy underwear. "You planned this didn't you?" He jeered and you rolled your eyes. He pushed his sleeves up to his elbows.

"Do you suck your friends' dicks too?" He slid the garment off as you said this, settling between your legs and winking up at you.

"Only the ones I like," he quipped. He brushed one of his rough hands up against your thigh, bringing the flesh towards his lips as he mapped a trail to where you need him most. You sat back on your elbows to watch him. The mere sight of George between your legs was enough to make your stomach ache in pleasure. His tongue flattened to run against your core and your head tilted back at the feeling. "Fuck, you're already wet," he growled. You felt every vibration from his voice run through you.

"Shut up," you groaned. He took this opportunity to attach his mouth to your clit, his eyes meeting yours for only a second as his tongue began to move against you at a quicker pace.

You moaned, your thighs wanting to close around him. "You're going to smother me, love," he chuckled. The sound of his voice was a symphony to your ears as his hot breath blew into you. His tongue rolled against you a few more times before he slipped a finger into you, making your back arch. His other hand dug into your thigh, as he pressed another kiss to your inner thigh while pumping his finger in an out of you, curling every few strokes.

"Faster, George," you groaned. He looked up at you again, unable to hide his cocky grin before running his tongue over your bundle of nerves once again, adding another finger. Each of his movements brought a new sensation to your body. You felt his actions in every goosebump littering your body and every curl of your toes. You moaned, tugging the flesh of your bottom lip between your teeth and running your fingers into his auburn hair. Every time his eyes jumped to look at you through his thick lashes as his tongue swirled against you, you were brought closer and closer to your edge.

Dammit. He was going to do it.

He leaned away from you, his fingers slowing slightly. "Cum, sweetheart." You didn't think you were ready, but as he gave you his permission a sense of relief flushed through you. He smiled as you moved your hips, savoring the episode of your climax against his fingers. As you caught your breath, he ran a hand over his chin. "Happy birthday," he jested, slipping his fingers into his mouth, sending you a sultry wink.

"Fuck off," you exhaled covering your face with your hands, making him chuckle.

[hystericalweenie]

Just Another Day at the Office - The Sexperiment

George MacKay x Reader Series

Part Five: Make It or Break It

Masterlist

Summary: Y/f/n Y/l/n is doing better than ever; she’s finally in a relationship with the man she’s been constantly thinking about, she has some great friends, and she’s thriving at her dream job. Except, there’s one problem: being in a relationship with one of your coworkers can get really steamy, and can cause a lot of sexual frustration. Her new pitch idea may solve exactly that problem, but will George be okay with it?

a/n: I have absolutely no personal experience in magazine/journalism career, so the information in this fic will be provided with the knowledge I have conducted from research. With that being said, please don’t be mad if this is not accurate!!! **“The Sexperiment” is inspired by an actual Cosmopolitan article (here’s the link!) IM SO SORRY FOR BEING GONE SO LONG I’m here to finish this shit once and for all... I know it’s been a while, but I hold this series so close to my heart and I still have the same love for it as I did when I wrote my last chapter (I know it’s only been a few months but STILL) if you’re reading this, I just want to thank you for sticking around, you’re the best <3

Warnings: This is a slow burn fic, their relationship won’t happen in one night, so if you’re not into that, check out some of the beautifully written imagines that you can most likely find under the george mackay x reader tag. I might eventually write some of my own too :P At least one person’s saying “fuck” and there’s NSFW content..aka smut. You have been warned. Also angst :/ srry this is kinda short

I was in the worst possible situation I could have ever imagined: I had to choose between my dream job and my dream man.

Bree arrived home about twenty minutes later by herself. My bedroom door creaked open, signaling her arrival. She frowned at my appearance, which seemed to be mascara smudged all over my eyes and cheeks and swollen, bloodshot eyes.

She sat down beside me, pulling me into her. “Y/n, I am so, so, sorry.”

I let out a croaked sigh, “I-it’s fine, he was going t-to find out eventually.”

“I’m sure he’ll come around,” she rubbed my back soothingly. “I think he’s in love with you.”

“It doesn't matter if he’s in love or not!” I exclaimed, pulling out of her embrace, my emotions arising again. “He’ll never forgive me for this.”

Hot tears began to stream down my face and I felt my bottom lip tremble. Bree took it as a cue to leave me be, so she quietly exited to her own bedroom.

What the fuck was I going to do?

This job was the job I’d been looking for my entire life; it was the job I’d dreamed about working at. 

But, George... 

George was everything. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that George would have ever fucked up the way I did. I wouldn’t ever have to question his loyalty, he’d proven to be trustworthy and honest. He treated me like a princess, a way I’d only ever been treated by my father. I wasn’t sure if I’d hurt more without him or without a job. He never failed to make me smile or laugh, and he’d ensure that I always felt safe. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever fall in love again, until I met him.

I could get a job anywhere, but there was only one George MacKay.

I had to delete the article.

I headed to the kitchen and made myself two cups of coffee before cracking my knuckles and getting to work. 

Dean, 

This is an emergency. If you don’t reply now or tomorrow, I’m going to be in deep, deep shit.

I didn't have time to wait for his response; I got right to work. 

What are people into nowadays, I thought to myself. Sex.

Ping. I clicked on my email.

Y/n,

What? 

Well, anything’s better than the fucking Sexperiment article. 

Dean,

I have to write a new article. George found out. BAD. Can’t release it, I have to fix this.

Also, would you say your penis size relates to your shoe size at all? It’s for the article.

Promise!

Well, I thought, here goes nothing. My fingers began typing immediately. The caffeine made my fingers shake slightly, but I was determined to write anything. I wasn’t sure how I was going to get George back, but I knew I had to. This was a start, at least. 

Ping.

Y/n,

Knew that was going to happen. I’ll help you out, but you owe me. Can we do this tomorrow though? It’s Friday night. Uhhh and to ur other question: I don’t think so. Not going to elaborate more than that. Hope that’s good enough.

I rolled my eyes.

Dean,

Fine. I’ll send you my drafts and you better respond as soon as you can.

I prayed to every possible higher power that this would work. I began conducting research, reading articles and articles about the relationship between the size of a man’s penis and the size of a man’s feet. I wrote down statistics, quotes, and scientific evidence–making sure to exclude any personal experience. I spent hours explaining the theory and science behind it and citing every single quote.

I wasn’t sure exactly what was going to happen, but I prayed that Connie wouldn’t be too pissed at me and George would hopefully see how genuinely sorry I was. I knew I’d fucked up, I got too caught up in trying to impress my boss that I practically sabotaged my own relationship in the process. I hadn’t received a single text message or call from him. I missed the way he smelt of sandalwood and vanilla, I missed entangling my fingers in his soft, sandy locks. I missed the way his skin felt against mine and his velvety voice when he called me “love”.

Tears ran down my cheeks once again as these memories lingered in my head. I stared at my computer screen, my eyelids drooping; I needed a break. I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep, so I decided that I was going to be entirely committed on staying up all night. Making a sandwich for myself, I sat and watched television for a moment, attempting to distract me from my obvious thoughts. And once I felt slightly more energized, I resumed reading articles, highlighting quotes, and writing. I continued this until Bree woke up, yawning as she swung her bedroom door open.

“Jesus, Y/n,” she observed, my figure at the kitchen table still hunched over, staring at my screen. “Were you up all night?”

“Yeah,” my voice was raspy from exhaustion. “There’s a pot of coffee waiting for you.”

She smiled softly, walking behind me and wrapping her arms around me. “All couples fight, you know.”

I sighed, “I don’t want to talk about this anymore; I need to get this article done.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You’re writing a new article?”

“Of course I am,” I defended, my eyes not leaving my screen. 

She poured herself a cup of the hot liquid.

“You love him.”

My eyes began to water and I fought to blink it away.

“Damn right I do,” I muttered to myself, though I was sure she heard me.

After finishing the draft of the article, I sent it over to Dean. Bree suggested that we go see our friends to distract me, but I wanted to stay home. I needed to write the final draft, and see George...both as soon as possible. Bree stayed around to make sure I’d be okay, watching television with me until Dean responded back with the edits. Once he finally did, I was rewriting the article and using his edits to perfect it. Once I’d finally finished it for Monday, I shut my laptop, grabbed my keys, and began driving to his house.

After parking, I climbed up the stairs until I reached his apartment door. I knocked a few times, nerves churning inside my stomach as I pondered all of the possible reactions he’d have. My biggest fear was that he’d never want to see me again. The door opened, revealing himself in a t-shirt and pajama pants, eyes puffy and bloodshot; I was sure my eyes looked the same.

 “I-” I began, letting out a sigh. “I rewrote the article.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“It’s still sex-themed, but it doesn’t have any connection or correlation to you,” I explained, my voice beginning to croak. “I can email it to you, if you’d like. You can read it, see if it’s okay first.”

He shook his head silently. It was apparent that he didn’t know what to say either.

“I know I fucked up,” my voice broke and my bottom lip trembled. “I shouldn’t have come up with an article like that, it was so fucking awful of me to embarrass you in front of your coworkers.”

Tears began to run down my face and I couldn't help but hiccup.

“P-please, George,” I whimpered.

His eyes began to well with tears of his own, and he pulled me into his arms. 

“I’m sorry for yelling at you outside of the restaurant,” he whispered, hugging me close to him.

“Oh, George,” I sobbed. “That was nothing; all you’ve done is treat me like gold, and I nearly exposed our fucking sex life to the world.”

He pulled away, cupping both of my cheeks with his palms, his blue orbs staring into mine, his eyelashes thick from wet tears and the whites of his eyes red.

“Please,” he begged, his voice cracking, “don’t lie, nor do something behind my back ever again.”

I pressed my hands against the backs of his, still holding my face in his palms. 

“Never again,” I confirmed, throwing my arms around him to feel the warm embrace I thought I’d never feel again. I could inhale his scent, hear his heartbeat through his chest, stare into his ocean blue orbs, and feel the soft sandy curls on his head.

He read the article, and though it made him slightly uncomfortable that I was writing about penises, he designed simple art that would make the article pop in the magazine. Then, we laid in his bed for hours, listening to each others heartbeats, listening to our breathing rhythms, staring into each others eyes as if we were silently communicating to one another. 

We decided to take a shower together, stripping each other of our clothes slowly and meaningfully. Once the hot water was running down our bare skin, we washed each other; shampooing each others hair slowly and washing our bodies tenderly, leaving kisses on wet shoulders and necks. Once we got out and dried off, we got back into his bed and maintained a spooning position, his bare torso against my bare back, as we dozed off to the warm, comforting feeling of our bare skin touching. 

Monday morning, I sat down at my desk and sent the new article to Connie, anxiety making me bite my nails as I waited for a response back. 

Ping.

Oh, no, I thought to myself.

Y/n,

Meet me in the conference room with Dean.

Connie

I sighed, exchanging looks with Dean–whom was reading the email over my shoulder–before we made our way to the conference room. She stood, her arms crossed, as we entered the room. I gulped, heart racing and sweat starting to form at my palms. The two of us sat ourselves, waiting for her to begin.

She joined us in a chair across from us, her elbows resting against the table.

“Well?” she began, her voice questioning. “What happened to the article?”

Dean looked at me, waiting for me to speak for myself. I braced myself before talking.

“The Sexperiment article wasn’t working for me, Connie,” I explained nervously, “I wasn’t having much luck writing it, and I wasn’t confident that it’d reach the magazine’s standards.”

I had to lie; I couldn’t tell her that the article nearly jeopardized my relationship. Dean sat next to me, silent.

She sighed, “I hope this one will reach the ‘magazine’s standards’, then,” she mimicked, before standing up and flattening her skirt. “I’ll publish the article, but this is a warning: do not change your article without contacting me first.”

And with that, we were dismissed, panic still swimming in our stomachs. Well, I thought, I chose George over my job; what else was I expecting?

[vveissesfleisch]

Fandom: 1917 

Summary: Tom and Will run into someone from Will’s past. AKA the Tom/Will/Ned PWP that no one asked for. 

Excerpt:

“Come on, Blake.” Schofield stands and lays a possessive hand on Tom’s shoulder. “We’re leaving.”

“Or,” murmurs Kelly, breath hot on Tom’s ear, lips so close a shiver dances up his spine, “I could take you back to mine and show you what it’s like to get fucked by a real man.”

Tom whimpers. He can’t help it--the noise is torn from his throat before he has the wherewithal to try and suppress it. Horrified, he freezes, acutely aware of the twin stares scorching him to the soul.

“You…” Schofield swallows, brow furrowing. “He...that appeals to you?”

“No, God, no, I--”

“Well you ought to come, too,” says Kelly, and Tom barely manages to quash a second embarrassing outburst as he feels Kelly rest his hand on top of Schofield’s on his shoulder. “Make things interesting for your boy here.”

[storiesforallfandoms]

Imagine Will schofield fluffy smut with wife reader

Done! I hope you like it!

[11likeswritingfanfiction]

Two Blokes and A Tree

Summary:

Schofield x Blake

During a war, two lovers try to make the most things until the end. Length, 3K.

Contains: Smut, Angst and lots of it, Fluffy Moments and Banter, and of course, character death.

Notes:

A commission from a dear who introduced me to 1917 and I am a fan! You can also commission me! Just shoot me an inquiry to thebittermelon98@icloud.com

READ ON AO3

“I’m going to make a mess of you.” Blake laughs, perhaps sounding melodic to Schofield’s ears. The lad, a blue-eyed dark-haired bloke with his back to him, threw his shirt to him, landing on Schofield’s face.

“I love to see you accomplish such a feat.” Blake purrs in reply, gently stroking his jaw. His skin was smooth, youthful and bright.  His bedroom eye, adorned with thick, dark lashes stared at him with arousal. Teasing Schofield became quite a game for Blake—he loved getting riled since it paid off so well.

“I’ll make you eat those words.” With a tease, he kisses him, knocking him against the tree behind. The air was a bit cool, fog danced in the air as the two lovers clicked teeth. With his thumb rubbing his lips after they pulled apart, he smiles at the light-eyed youth.

Schofield swallows, feeling Blake’s hard length pressed against his--grinding with an ill-intent, wanting to drive him mad.  He grabbed Blake’s dark locks, yanking them back as he lapped at Blake’s exposed neck. Sucking, kissing, marking the boy as his for his own insurance.

After seeing red, flesh splotches appear, Schofield grins--this time kissing him ruefully, unbuckling Blake’s pants to the sight of white briefs.  His pale legs had a slight blush to them. Schofield’s slender yet tough finger up those pale thighs to his bulging package.

“On your need, soldier.” Blake rolls his eyes at the corny display but turns around, dropping his knees.

“For talking so much, you seem so hard for me. Haven’t had a wank in a while, have you?” Schofield says, his head in the crook of Blake’s shoulder, His hand drifted to his front, giving it a slow, determined stroke. His finger brushes against Blake’s plush lips, as if to ask for entrance--his spit drips out, his teeth nipping as the digits. After he’s satisfied with the slickness of the lubrication being enough, he sinks a finger in, past his sphincter.

“...because you do the best.” Schofield grins at the words, deciding to simply implore him.

“You who?” he added another finger, rubbing against his soft walls. Blake doesn’t say anything, not yet at least. It’s only when Schofield rubs the tip of his slick head does he answer honestly.

It was pretty cute.

“Y-You do it best, Daddy.”

“How do you want Daddy to fuck you?” Schofield’s on the third finger, Blake’s practically a sobbing mess under him. His knees buckled, he knew if Schofield continued with this deliberate action that he’d climax far too early.

“On my knees, Daddy--fuck me on my knees.” “ And as he so nicely asked, Schofield did so, sinking his nails into his hips. Feeling that he was completely buried in his flesh, rolling his hips from the base back to the entrance.

Blake lets a rough groan, clawing at the ground below him. Schofield picks up his pace, knowing his lover shouldn’t be satisfied with that alone. Slamming himself against his reddening behind, his hand holding his back so he could be fully immersed.

And then, there’s a voice.

“Who goes there?” A voice—a deeper, older masculine voice said—the two boys froze.

“We’re going to get caught—” Blake puts his hand on top of Schofield’s saying, “Oh, quiet you! Just stay quiet.” The feeling of being watched did excite a bit as he ground against the thick, sweeping cock inside of him—he listened to Schofield’s gasping breath with satisfaction before pulling away from him with a pop.

“Who’s there!” The two of them looked at the direction of the voice, waiting for it and the footsteps that followed to pass by them. After that, they fumbled with their clothes before breaking out in sprints—laughing to their heart’s content as they made it to the open field full of flowers and lush green grass. It was early morning, possibly past midnight and they collapsed against a tree.

The sound of birds chirping surrounded the two men who held each other--the rumble of thunder followed, but every so briefly leaving as it arrived. The landscape around them was tranquil despite the turbulence of the times---to the two young men, they were the only ones there; content in their own little world.

Schofield woke up first, groggily, sniffling a chuckle at the younger man cuddled up against him. He looked like an angel with his eyes closed, the exact opposite of his usual cheeky self. His hands ruddle his soft hair, the air of intimacy as thick as the fog around them.

“Blake.” A voice says--Sergeant Sanders--his voice, powerful, unamused as he watches the Tom stays still, unbothered by the authority figure.

“Blake!” Blake as he’s known to his superiors--jolts awake, his uniform damp with dew, his big, blue eyes alert.

“Sorry, Sarge.” Was his sleepy reply, Schofield bites his bottom lip to keep from laughing.

“Pick a man, bring your kit.”

“Yes, Sarge.” Blake peels himself from Schofield, standing erect as if coming back to life. Despite being quite aware of the things happening around him, stays quiet with his eyes shut. With the Sergeant out of sight, Blake bends down and gives his man a quick peck of the forehead, grasping his slightly prickly face. His touch is gentle, a soft, generous caress--after a beat Schofield’s eyes flutter open, locking onto Blake’s rose-colored gaze--yet Schofield knew this nativity was a ruse, the young man knew what he was doing to him and reveled in it.

“I see you’re very alive and well.” He momentarily grasping his crotch, winking at him.

“You brazen, brazen little lad,” Schofield says in a voice, only low enough for Blake hear--who in turn gives him a grin that makes his heart skip a beat. Schofield, in turn, gives his behind a generous squeeze--this one was, however, different from Blake’s--this action was establishing that he wasn’t going to take it lying down. A bit taller than his he turns, his breath hot in his ears, nipping at the lobes.

“Your arse is mine, although I thought I proved it last night”

“No, really say it again, Schofield.”

The shit smile of a mouthy angel.

The two lovers begrudgingly followed Sanders with the latter ordering them not to “dawdle.”

“No, Sarge.”

They, amongst others, spent their days intimate with the grime and muck, and currently entrapped in slumber.

“Did they feed us?” Blake inquires. Schofield frowns and hands him something, envelopes, full of mail from his family and friends.

“No, just mail.”

Despite the slight disappointment, Blake opens the envelope elated, reading the contents while they strolled, his smile filling with warmth.

“Myrtle’s having puppies.” Schofield grins at his own elation--

“You get anything?”

“No.”--even if he didn’t get anything from his own family, he was more than glad to be with him.

By then during their chat, the fire was lit, meaning salvation to Blake’s hunger was on the way.

“I’m bloody starving, aren’t you? I thought we might get some decent grub out here - only reason I decided against the priesthood.” Schofield lets out a breathy laugh while his boy glances around as if he wanted to devour everything in sight.

“I know something I’d like to devour right now.” When blake turns to him in confusion, he manages to steal a peck on his cheek. He dug into his pockets, looking for food his stashed goodies.

“What you got there?”

“Ham and bread.”

“Where did you find that?”

“I have my uses.”

They sneak off, for better or for worse, passing into the trenches. The bread is stale, Blake makes a face as he bites into it.

“Tastes like an old shoe.”

“Cheer up. This time next week it’ll be chicken dinner."

The trench drops deeper and deeper, Blake takes Schofield’s arm, as they continue their chat.

“Not me. Leave got cancelled.”

“They say, why?”

“No idea.”

They are completely underground, the sky cannot be seen--they were detached from the world above them. They stood in each other’s company, with the Sergeant’s back to them, holding hands.

“It’s easier not to go back at all,” Schofield says, perhaps a bit rash. The pair pass soldiers doing various duties--moving crates and various cooking and medical supplies.

“Something’s up,” Blake says, pausing for a minute.

“...did you hear anything?”

“Has to be the push, right?”

He continues. Again, soldiers move past them, pushing, and again Black watches.

“Ten bob says we’re going up.”

“I’m not taking that bet.”

“Why? ‘Cos you know I’m right?”

“No, ‘cos I know that you bet with your bum and not your bob.” Schofield chuckles, rubbing his shoulder after Blake gives him a playful punch.

“I can’t wait for all of this to be over.” Blake looks at him, holding his hands tightly. Their blue eyes seemed to have danced with at each-other glancing around sharing a quick peck--heart beating madly, cheeks flushed.

“All of us coming out here alive would be a feat.”

“If we do--”

“--When we do survive--we when we do, we should go on holiday, somewhere far,” Blake says with a hum--Schofield looks at him, almost dazed, lovingly bringing his hand to his lips gazing them ever so slightly.

“In your own time, gentlemen...”

They follow Sanders, kicking up speed.

“Is there news, Sarge?” Blake asks.

“News of what?”

“The big push. It was supposed to happen weeks ago. They told us we’d be home by Christmas.” Schofield’s hand tightens around Blakes as he speaks.

“Yes, well, sorry to disrupt your crowded schedule, Blake, but the Brass Hats didn’t fancy it in the snow.” The sergeant replies, sarcastically.

“More’s the pity, Sarge, I could have done with some turkey.”

“Well, I’ll make sure to relay your displeasure to command.” Running through wires, set there for communication, the conversation resumes.

“So what’s on the cards then, Sergeant?” Schofield this time inquires-- turns around and with that their entwined hands drop.

“The Hun are up to something.”

“Any idea what?”

“No - but it’s bound to ruin our weekend.”

They approach a dugout.

“Now listen, Erinmore is inside, so tidy yourselves up.” The two young men are wide-eyed, anxious.

“You never know - might be mentioned in dispatches for this one, if you don’t bugger it up.”

The look he gives is worrisome as he seems to have gone deeper into the dugout.

The young men tidy themselves as much as they can--Blake leans into Schofield, looking quite nervous.

“Must be something big if the General’s here.”

Schofield wants to reassure him--to tell him that things couldn’t have gotten too sire. However, he seemed to believe less and less in his own thoughts as they approached the dimly-lit area with their guns raised. A feeling of unease and uncertainty was thick in the air with their nerves so high.

After seeing their superiors sitting at a table, whispering didn’t put them more at ease.

“Lance Corporals Blake and Schofield, Sir.”

General Erinmore shifts his attention to the two young soldiers, his gaze lingering. There’s the sight of pure authority in his demeanor, even as he questions them.

“Which one of you is Blake?”

“Sir,” Blake replies.

“You have a brother, a Lieutenant in the 2nd Devons?” His eyes glimmered.

“Yes, sir. Joseph Blake. Is he--”

“Alive, as far as I know. And with your help, I’d like to keep it that way.”

Blake’s eyes held a bit of suspicion. After a few minutes of speaking, a conversation which included Blake’s map-reading abilities. The talk came at a standstill when Erinmore dropped a bombshell.

“Germans have gone. Don’t get your hopes up. It appears to be a strategic withdrawal. They seem to have created a new line, nine miles back here, by the looks of it.” His eyes seemed to bore into theirs as his grave voice spoke with careful authority.

“Your orders are to get to the 2nd at Croisilles Wood, one mile southeast of the town of Ecoust. Deliver this to Colonel Mackenzie. It is a direct order to call off tomorrow morning’s attack.”

Schofield and Blake understood the severity of the situation.

Erinmore hands Blake an envelope, one of importance.

“Deliver this to Colonel Mackenzie. It is a direct order to call off tomorrow morning’s attack. If you don’t, it will be a massacre. We would lose two battalions. Sixteen hundred men, your brother among them.”

Schofield reels in being absolutely gobsmacked while Blake was quiet and with the absolute understanding lingering on his expression. He was much better with things like these--that’s why Schofield loved him. He was strong in a lot of ways that Schofield wasn’t.

“Map, torches, grenades, and a couple of little treats. Leave immediately, take this trench west, up on Sauchiehall Street, then northwest on Paradise Alley at the front. Continue along the front line until you find the Yorks. Give this note to Major Stevenson. He’s holding the line at the shortest span of No Man’s Land. You’ll cross there.”

Schofield’s eyes bulged saying and a voice clearly unnerved, “It will be daylight, Sir. They’ll see us.”

“No need to be concerned. You should meet no resistance.”

With a further charm of “good luck”, the young soldiers armed themselves once again, this time exposed by the daylight they encounter.

“Blake - let’s talk about this for a minute.”

“Why?” He was already racing, going at an impressive pace.

“Just need to think about it for comment--shouldn’t we wait till dark.”

“There’s nothing to think about. It’s my big brother. Erinmore said to leave immediately. You heard him. He said the Boche have gone.”

“Is that why he gave us grenades?” Schofield jogged up to him, grabbing his hand--almost with a pleading,

“All I’m saying is that we should wait.”

Blake frowns.

“Yes, you would say that, because it’s not your brother, is it?”

“Look, the last time I was told the Germans were gone, it didn’t end well.”

The young, blue-eyed man pushes past him, and he further pleads with him.

“You don’t know, Blake, you weren’t there. I’m worried about you.” He seems to stop, looking at him with watery eyes.

“Are you speaking as my comrade or as my man?” Schofield doesn’t say anything, just blindly following the younger man, They rush against traffic, even being reprimanded by a passing sergeant.

“Alright, say the Boche have gone. Nine miles will take us, what, six hours? Eight at the very most. So we’ve got time to wait until the sunsets. Otherwise, we’ll be wide open, Blake.”

“It’s enemy territory, we’ve got no idea what we’re walking into--”

“Think about this, you bloke! Blake, if we’re not clever about this, no one will get to your brother.”

“I will.” With that, the conversation ends, as well as Schofield trying to persuade him.

“I just want you to stay safe,” Schofield whispered to say as he followed his trudging figure, approaching uncertainty.

“I love you, Schofield,”

“Don’t...don’t you tell me that like those are your last words. You have to try to keep moving, yeah?”

“Let’s just sit... let me sit.”

“...you can start on without me. I’ll catch up.”

“We can’t. We have to find the 2nd. Remember? Your brother. We have to go now...”

After some time, what they’re met with hinders to the two lovers direly.

Blake’s stare turns glassy as he looks up at Schofield.

“You can’t stay here. We have to move, alright? We have to move. Come on. Come on. That’s it. Come on, come on old man, you can make it.”

Fear, dread. Disbelief.

“Your brother. We have to find your brother, remember? You can make it.”

Blake’s breath is slow. Schofield feels tears stinging his eyes. His breath shallow as well.

“You’ll recognize him. Looks like me...a bit older.”

Schofield holds his head up, almost helplessly as he looks around. They both watched as embers floated in the air.

“What are they? Are we being shelled?”

“No....they’re embers, the barn is on fire.”

Blake’s eyes widened and squinted soon after he winced.

“I’ve been hit...haven’t I. What was it?”

They’re both aware that they were ambushed.

Blake protected him, taking a knife for him. Flabbergasted, the young man feels around, finally finding Schofield’s had trying to stop his wound from bleeding too much. Schofield uses his free hand to wipe away the blood on his lips. His breath comes in quiet gasps.

“Am I dying?”

“Yes, I think you are...but we can pretend like you’re just sleeping."

Blake quietly laughs, making Schofield smile through tears.

“I wish that that was true.”

“Why did you take the knife for me anyways? Now I’m going to be alone again.” His voice breaks up with tears, hoping that he could once try to save his life.

However, it was all but a fleeting dream for the two men.

There’s a muffled rustling--Schofield is handed a wallet from Blake, asking him for something from it. inside the contents held letters, probably from his family and more importantly, a picture of  Blake, smiling with an older woman and a man around their age. He takes the photo, putting it in his hand silently

“Will you write to my mum for me?” Schofield gives her a smile and a nod, now cradling his face. He slowly let go of the hold he had on his wound, and instead of taking his hand.

“Tell her I wasn’t scared.” With every breath, he slips away faster and faster.

“Anything else you want me to say?”

“I love them...I wish that... I wish...” Schofield breaks out in a sob, holding his cooling body close to him.

“Talk to me. Tell me you love me, tell me you know the way.”

“...I love you....more than I’ve ever loved a person. And uh, the way...I know it.”

Blake waits, giving him a small smile as he listens to him continue.

“I’m going to head southeast until I hit Ecoust. I’ll pass through the town and out to the east, all the way to Croisilles Wood.”

“It’ll be dark by then,” Blake replies, his voice almost a whisper. Schofield looks down at him, his eyelashes hiding his grieve-stricken baby blue eyes.

“That won’t bother me... I’ll find the 2nd, I’ll give them the message, and then I’ll find your brother. Just like you...”

Schofield, still cradling his head, kisses him.

“Just a little older like you said.”

[whitequeenasitbgan]

The House of Smoke and Fog

Cap 7

April 6th, 1917

-Blake, if we’re not clever about this no one will get to your brother.

-I will- said Blake.

Schofield was wise, he had a point. ‘But it must be done, it will be done’ Blake kept repeating himself, ‘If I don’t do this, no one else will’.

Schofield kept telling him to slow down, to wait. He reminded him of Erin. Everything of him reminded him of her, to the point he sometimes believed it was her he was talking to, instead of Schofield. They were so similar: they both wanted to keep him alive, that was sure. He felt cruel towards his friend. He had a wife and two daughters back hime. ‘I should’ve picked someone else’ he thought.

-was it like this before Thiepeval?

-I don’t remember

-You don’t remember the Somme?

-No, not really

‘Why should he?’ Erin said. Blake was dreaming with his eyes wide open. She was there, talking to him, but he couldn’t see her. It was always like this, wether he was asleep in the mud of the trench, or wide awake. ‘You didn’t even answer to my letter, why are you bothering me?’ he muttered, Schofield almost heard him. He was so angry with her for not saying anything. 4 months had passed and not a word from her. ’Because I don’t want you to die, and you know it’, Erin answered. ‘I’ve been dying a bit each day since you disappeared from my life. I needed you, I need you now more than anything’ Blake answered. ‘It was you choice, not mine’ she said. Blake knew it. He was the one that got away, he was the one to blame, he knew it. He could be angrier with her as time passed by, waiting for an answer, but he could’ve never loved her less.

-you sure?

-Yes

Schofield grabbed Blake by the shoulder to stop him. He was ready to go. -Age over beauty- he said, meaning ‘I’m sorry for doubting you, I trust you. I’m with you until the end of the line’.

-Your hand alright?- Blake asked. The German trenches were really empty, they were safe. for now. It was a comfort to know Gen. Erinmore was right about it.

-Put it through an effing German

-Patch it up. You’ll be wanting again in no time.

-Wrong hand- Schofield answered.

At least he had his memories to blow off steam. Blake didn’t. He never regretted waiting. ‘If you want, I trust you’ Erin once said, meaning she was ready to give him something more than a kiss. Many times it had been hard to stop. They slept together many times: he used to let her light on for him, so that he could see it from his house, get silently out and spend the night with her, her parents unaware of it. They weren’t early birds: they risked to get caught more than once. But they were night owls. When they were together, they could stay up all night talking, laughing, whispering, kissing. Touching. Erin knew nothing of men. She learned how ‘sex and reproduction’ worked from a medical encyclopaedia at the library. He learned everything from one of his brothers friends. He visited him when he was in London for college. He had a date with a certain girl, for tea. He took him to a luxurious house in Chelsea. The girl had a sister. She was married, way older than Blake. Her husband was away. His brother and the girl disappeared. The woman kissed him, leaving Blake petrified. He was 14 at that time.

-What is it?- the woman asked him, noticing he wasn’t answering to her kiss.

-I don’t want to get you pregnant- Tom said, terrified.

-What? Who told you that’s how you make a baby?

-My brother…

-How kind- the woman said, getting up from the couch and walking to the other side of the room, towards a mirror.

-And you’re married…

-My husband can have extramarital affairs. Why shouldn’t I?- asked the woman, adjusting her dress to expose her décolleté, leaving Blake to question why social inequality had always favoured men over women in that matter -Your brother told me you have a girl

-Oh, no… she’d not my girl

-But you’re asking him sex, cause you’re planning something

-I don’t…

-Listen boy- she said, as she started to undress herself -I need a distraction and you need to learn. We can both help each other. If you don’t want to bugger everything up with this girl, you need to know how to do things right. Your brother had the decency to take you here, instead of booking a girl or two for you at a brothel, like fathers usually do. He’s saved you from syphilis and gonorrhoea. there’s no better way to learn than this. You don’t want to mess everything up on your first wedding night, do you? What if you hurt her?

-You have a point.

He liked it, but he felt like he was missing something -You’ll understand what it is once you get to this point with your girl. You won’t miss a thing- the woman said.

-Did I hurt you?

-Not at all

-Was I… good at it?

-Honey, you were great. And there’s margin for improvement. Your girl is a lucky one- she said.

Blake got lost in his thoughts, as Schofield was patching up his wounded hand. He remembered Erin, asking him to stay with her for the next time: ‘Do you think you could lie next to me and not need to go further?’. Then he remembered feeling her, how he needed to touch her and how she wanted to be touched. It was hard to stop, even harder when she told him she was ready to go beyond. ‘I want to do things properly’ he said. ‘Me too, but if you dare to leave me like Joe did with Emmeline Davies, to go have fun in London, I swear I’m going to eat your heart for breakfast’ she replied. He kissed her and tucked her warm in bed by his side, ‘first thing first, Joe left Emmeline cause she was a boring, classist bitch. Second… I’m not your brother. Kiss me good night, now’.

Schofield stood up. Blake came painfully back to reality. As the German trench reappeared in around him, flashes of Erin’s face in his arms, the feeling of her body began to go away. He never saw her naked, but she touched her and she touched him. The memory of her moans as he kissed her breast and caressed her inner thighs, her gasp as his fingers slid inside her, the feeling of her hands around him, her eyes as she sucked him, their pantings after they gave pleasure to each other, the peaceful sleep… it all faded away. A brazier full of spent white coal dust appeared instead. ‘Let’s see when these Huns went away’, he thought. He kicked it out of frustration,

-They’re not long gone- Schofield said.

Cap 8

https://whitequeenasitbgan.tumblr.com/post/611984304705306624/the-house-of-smoke-and-fog-cap-8

[boasamishipper]

all the EVEN numbers for the writing ask! Aha!

2. Anything that you’d like to write but feel like you’re unable to?

i'd love to be able to write smut, but i'm not very good at it - it always feels like pulling teeth. i'd also love to sit down and finish my robisanya time loop fic, but it is Very Complicated and i have to be in a very specific once in a blue moon mindframe before adding onto it.

4. Do you have any OCs? Do you have a story for them?

i sure do! my ocs for my forever in progress original novel are chloe bolden and devi chakrabarti, two foster sisters who audition for a role in their favorite television show, elementary endangerment - only to find out that the show is Very Much Real and Very Much Dangerous. my latest fanfic ocs are as follows:

The West Hambos (Luka Visnjic, Natan Roubeni, Gunnar Magnusson, Rob McClare, Billy Schofield, Will Taylor, Mario Bonucci) - In The Light You Will Find The Road series (Ted Lasso, Nate-centric)

Grace Obisanya Adeyemi, Ben Adeyemi, Richmond 'Richie' Adeyemi, Julia Rojas, Javi Rojas, Gabi Rojas, Jandro Rojas, Olivia Alexander, Nina Reynolds-Cabrera, John Oluransi, Luisa Ortega - You've Got Bantr series (Ted Lasso, Sam/Dani-centric)

Jess, Bill and Taylor Kazansky - Ice's family who were co-invented by @academicgangster and appear / are mentioned in many of my top gun fanfics

Kelly Serrano, Laura Evans, and David Bennett - Billy Tyson's ex-wives and ex-boyfriend who are mentioned in my and @lilalbatross's Austin Alone series (9-1-1 Lone Star, Billy/Owen-centric)

6. What’s your ratio for rating your works?

idk how that works but out of the 71 stories i have on ao3, the majority are either Teen And Up Audiences or General Audiences.

8. How slow is a slow burn?

my slow burns can be Pretty Damn Slow, as my mutuals can no doubt attest. from a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being 'they fuck/kiss/get together right away' and 10 being 'they don't even learn each other's names until 200k in', i'm probably around a 4, maybe a 5?

10. Top three favourite fic tropes.

time loops, 'there was only one bed' + all offshoots, and A Metric Fuckload of Mutual Pining.

12. If you write in more than one language, what’s the difference?

i only write in english, so n/a,

14. Write and share the first sentence of a new fic. Just that.

Dani is going to propose. He swears.

16. Are one-shots really underrated?

i mean, i've never heard anyone say so, but there's definitely something nice about keeping a story short and to the point.

18. First, second, or third person?

third person. sometimes second person - i don't mind reading it but i don't like writing it - and No Thank You to first person.

20. Do you work on a single project or many at the same time? How does that work for you?

i don't know how to write if i'm not working on at least three projects at once lmao. it's kind of nice actually because if i hit writer's block on one project and am feeling shitty about myself / my writing, i can just hop onto a new project and vibe there for a while. instant serotonin. also instant stress because more often than not, i'll be midway through one project, get the idea for another, shift gears to solely that project for a few months, then get an idea for another.... You See Where This Is Going. rip to all my abandoned wips. on hiatus but never forgotten.

22. What is it about watching the same two idiots falling in love over and over again?

That's The Good Kush. the writing/reading/watching equivalent of comfort food and comfy sweatpants.

24. Thoughts on flashbacks/flashforwards.

@toseehowthestoryends's fic Freeze On The Stones is the be-all and end-all when it comes to masterfully employing flashbacks in fic, imho. i've employed flashbacks from time to time in my works, but very sparingly - i prefer to work within the present.

26. What would you describe as OOC?

....i guess anything a character does that is out of the ordinary?? it really depends on who i'm writing. iceman kazansky will do and say things that sam obisanya never would.

28. Any writing advice that works for you and you feel like sharing?

outline outline outline!! cannot tell you how much easier my writing has gone for me since i started working with outlines. outlines don't really make me stick to projects any better - that's on my ADD - but they do make the actual writing process much smoother.

30. Describe a fic that almost happened, but then it didn’t.

god, so many. most recent one that comes to mind is a benji/ilsa fic i was considering writing for Some Time, but it never got off the ground for me. (magic conch voice) Maybe Someday.

32. Do you have a word/expression that you always use in your writing?

Literally So Many. i always throw around the same metaphors and expressions, and my fics almost always have Terrible Puns Within and song lyrics for titles. i still crack up thinking about the time i thought i was So Clever writing @academicgangster a fic for an exchange without telling her, and she figured out i was the anon author literally from the very first line because of a pun i wrote. i am nothing if not predictable lmao.

34. Do you write to improve? Or is that not a concern for you?

i write because i like to. improvement happens along the way. like, my writing today is much better than my writing in 2019, but i wasn't out there writing - say - my top gun / mcu crossover fix it fic because i thought it'd make me a better writer or anything; i just liked the idea and went for it.

36. How do you come up with fic titles? What’s the one you’re most proud of?

9 times out of 10, my fic titles are song lyrics, lines from poems, or Very Bad Puns. my most favorite fic title i ever came up with is You Had Me At Aloe, for my top gun 2 specfic where fritz accidentally tells ice he looks like a succulent (and other things occur as well).

38. “This never happened” fix-it fics or “this happened but” fix-it fics?

Why Not Both (but not at the same time).

40. Write a 9-word fic.

"Maybe someday we'll meet again, and things'll be different."

[inkfablesandstories]

request guidelines

hello everyone! here are are my request guidelines, just to clarify any of your possible future requests. not many rules, just clarifications:)

genres:

genres that i write:

angst (i love angst, however love to end it with some fluff or an open ending)

fluff (absolutely love!)

smut (i haven’t ever written smut, so any first time smut requests may not describe everything graphically but more so implied or be suggestive. i will try my best as i explore and get used to this genre)

one shots (i have no problems and love)

series (i sometimes have commitment issues but at the same time have to finish everything off, so i might write a shorter series and then during any holidays and free time, i might start writing a longer one; i already am planning one)

headcannons (absolutely love and find them so cute and fun to write)

plot request:

i have no problems with whatever you want to request, i will make a prompt list, if you would like to use it, but if you want also song-inspired pieces or just normally you have something interesting, send it and i’ll be excited to write it!

characters/people i write for:

now, the most important part: who do i write for? i will first state, who i will definitely write for in the list below:

F1 drivers (though mainly younger drivers, however i can make the exception if i’m in the mood or really like the request)

harry potter and fantastic beasts (mainly newt scamander and cedric diggory, however honestly i don’t mind any of the characters except for draco malfoy lol)

celebrities (i have a couple ideas for austin butler, robert pattinson, eddie redmayne and george mackay, and will take any requests with celebrities that i enjoy/know of/am comfortable with)

1917 (2019 movie) (mainly william schofield but if anyone requests tom blake, will gladly write one)

miscellaneous (i’m a big fan of: hunger games, mainly finnick odair; star wars; little women; queen’s gambit)

but in all honesty, if you have a character or person you want me to write for, just request them and i’ll see if i know them or the movie and try to write for them:)

schedule:

i may not get to your request immediately as my schedule right now is very erratic, but do not feel like you shouldn’t request anything

where to request:

just check out my blog and at the top you will find my request box!

anonymity:

feel comfortable to request anonymously or not, there is an option to click if you want to:)