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Train Wreck (Adam Henry x Reader)

Originally posted by cloudydevils

Title: Train Wreck {PART ONE}

Pairing: Adam Henry x Reader

Overall summary:  Being a student nurse training in oncology can have its ups and downs, yet when the peculiar case of Adam Henry first arrives. From rejecting everyone’s desperate pleas to allow for his vital blood transfusion, it is only a matter of time. That is until unlikely friendship blossoms between the two of you, leaving Adam questioning everything he once stood for. What soon comes in a trail of bittersweet emotions of what it means to be human.

Song that inspired Series: James Arthur ‘Train wreck(linking to the slow version) ((I also made a playlist of songs that inspired the series if anyone is interested: X ))

Words: 3772

Other works:

Fionn Whitehead x Reader Works: ‘Never trust vodka’ ‘An awkward brunch‘Don’t stop me now’ ‘A late night guest

Stefan Butler x Reader Works: ‘Babysitter’s Club

Warnings:  Mentions of needles, cancer, and death

Note:   So I know I said I’d post the first part to Tommy x Reader piece but when I started it, I felt I wasn’t getting the full jest of the war and how I wanted to convey it so I decided instead of doddering on that, that I’d try my hand at the Adam Henry x Reader series!

I adore The Children Act, both the novel and the film adaption so I’m a bit anxious that I won’t do justice to the characters and the storyline…honestly, I was a bit reluctant at first to even write for Adam due to personal reasons involving his illness and not wanting to treat his religious values in any way that may upset anyone, but then I thought how I could always step away from it if it does get too much. (Fun fact I cried when I was planning out the first part of this piece)

Also, I want to say thank you to everyone for the support with every piece of writing, especially with the whole fiasco with my last piece not uploading- it seriously means so much to have people committed to my work…I’m really starting to gain some confidence and finding my flow again which honestly after a bit of a tough year means the world to me so I must thank you all for being so supportive in the first place!

I’m splitting this series into small parts just so I can put all my effort into them- I’m only posting this piece now as I committed myself to intense study all day in the library so this is just a little something to wind down- the next piece probably won’t be up until May but after that, I’ll be able to put my heart and soul into my pieces and honestly I gotta say, I am very excited for you all to read what I have planned for this series!

Like always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Also, if anyone wants to request anything just go ahead (but maybe something not too nsfw but it depends) as my ask box is open!

Anyways, hope you enjoy! Xx

Keep reading

A late night guest

Title:  A late night guest

Pairing: Fionn Whitehead x Reader

Summary:  Written for anon request: ‘Could you write a fic where the reader is being hit on at a bar by a creepy guy and Fionn pretends to be your boyfriend so the creep will leave you alone and you end up hitting it off with Fionn 🖤’

Words:  4437

Other works:  

Fionn Whitehead x Reader Works: ‘Never trust vodka’  ‘An awkward brunch’  ‘Don’t stop me now’

Stefan Butler x Reader: ‘Babysitter’s club’

Note:  Seriously, can I start off by saying thank you to the anon who requested this! I was having a mini breakdown as a stressed college student™ over essays and receiving a poor grade on an assignment I put so much effort into, so everyone around told me to relax for a bit so that’s what I decided to do, and here I am posting this piece! So seriously thank you so much for it! I hope you like it!

Also, you may noticed that I got a bit carried away in another sense (I’ll let you all figure that out yourselves) but also just wanted to say that it was never my intention and so, just for my own reasoning my descriptions are a bit vague just because I didn’t want to make it appear too much if you get me? ((sorry, due to a lack of sleep and spending the past week studying and doing assignments, my head is a bit all over the place and I’m doing crazy things, such as listening to Kylie Minogue’s ‘Get Outta My Way’ which is honestly such a bop so don’t judge))

After this piece, I hope to start working on my Tommy x Reader piece which I am super excited to start! I just need to get through the next two weeks without another breakdown and then I’ll be able to work on it!

Like always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Also, if anyone wants to request anything just go ahead (but maybe something not too nsfw but it depends) as my ask box is open!

Anyways, hope you enjoy! Xx



Vibrant purple lights flickered and spun across the dancefloor. People varying in ages twisted their bodies and grinded up against each other to the intense disco music. With each beat that bounced back and forth, people committed to moving their heads side to side while others twisted to each other, leaning into each other’s breaths, their tongues diving into each other’s mouths.

The sight somehow recoiled something in the pit of your stomach, or perhaps it was the straight shot of Jack Daniel’s you consumed five minutes ago taking its toll. Either way, it was stifling, to be pushed and shoved from lads with polo shirts and gelled back hair, to girls wearing platform heels. Once or twice already, your toes endured the gruelling pain of a stab of their heel, yet you pestered on, dancing with your friends.

You were finished another week of college, which led to the perfect excuse to go out and hit the boozy student filled streets.  Sure, you had your fair share of assignment deadlines looming that put you off at first, along with the crippling deduction of receiving a poor grade in an essay you spent all week perfecting. Despite these worries, the girls made you change your mind by gently persuading you that you needed the sweet taste of Aldi white wine and cheesy music to lift your spirits. And so, you came unannounced to their little pre-drink do with your finest selection of Pringles to accompany the cheap booze.

Yet right now, as you stood with your friends near the edge of the dancefloor, your stomach was telling you other things. It whirled and rumbled as the extensive concoction of alcohol began to play havoc.  You told yourself you’d take it easy tonight, in fears of creating more havoc to your life, as so you did. Your parched mouth, however, was telling you otherwise as your breath stank of liqueur.

“I think I’m going to get a glass of water,” you mouthed over to a friend. You couldn’t figure if they actually heard you as they simply responded by giving you a quick nod with a thumbs up before swaying back to the beat.

Caught in the middle of a group of giddy girls who were exchanging snapchat usernames, you shuffled up the steps to the closest bar.

People ranked themselves in scattered position, chatting and amusing themselves with their latest gossip from the week. In front of you, the bar was aglow from fluorescent lighting, which brought your focus to the barman who skilfully poured a beer with one hand, taking cash from a man with the other, with a cocktail menu set between his teeth.

His perplexing charm lured you in as you sauntered past a group of tall husky men. You didn’t take any heed of one of them turning their head towards you, as your summer dress swished against your knobby knees.

Of course, there had to be a group of probably first year students taking orders, impatiently demanding shots for one of their heartbroken friends. The barman could only scowl as one girl with heavily drawn eyebrows flashed her credit card at him, demanding for their double vodka cranberries along with tequila.

“Fuck ‘em Stacey, he was hardly a man if he went dogging with that one anyways!”

“I know,” the smaller blonde girl wailed, pounding her fist aggressively on the counter, “, but I’m not able for such ‘eartbreak!”

You tittered to yourself. Of course, young girls would make heartbreak their number one priority. They didn’t understand the true definition of the word in the first place.

Just when the word found its place on your tongue, salivating with past emotions, a sour taste came. You swallowed hard, accepting that now was not the time to think of past grievance.

As the music continued to warp your senses, convoluting your stomach furthermore, a honeyed voice prickled your skin.

“What’s a lovely girl like you doing here all alone, hey?”

At first, you kept your head turned towards the bar, watching as the first year’s cheered at the arrival of their drinks. Your trance was only interrupted when the voice spoke again, “So you’re not going to even look at me, eh?”

Something in your head signalled you not to, yet your willpower weakened. You turned to face a stoutly formed man, with a pudgy face and furrowed eyebrows that further deceased his charm.  Your eyes fluttered, unsure what to take of the plump man.

As the first years disassembled from the counter with their drinks, spilling some in the process as they moved along, you caught sight of the barman and approached.

“A water please,”

“Water?! Oh, come on!” he smirked. Waving a hand, he shouted at the barman, “No, change that to two baby Guinness’ there mate!”

You gnarled your teeth at him, “I’m sorry, but who are you again?”

He revealed a set of yellow stained teeth before swooning, “I’m your one-way ticket to a great night baby.”  He finished off with a wink while he rotated his hips.

As he spoke, he squirted spit that hits your face.  You flicked it off your cheek before wryly replying, “Oh really?”

A waft of stale beer flared your nostrils as he spoke again. “Yeah baby, a pretty girl like you shouldn’t be here by yourself. You look like you need a hot stud like me to help you…” and that’s when his grubby sweaty hand decided to make its way towards the end of your dress.

You flinched before bellowing, “Get your hands off of me!”

Then another voice, one that wisped gently entered in your left eardrum. “Hey, sorry for that, the queue for the bathroom was insane! Is everything okay here?”

You couldn’t help but jerk your head…surely, he wasn’t talking to you?

The look on the sleazy man told you another story. He grumbled back a pathetic excuse of an apology, “Oh mate- sorry- I didn’t realise she was your bird.”

“As a matter of fact, she is my girlfriend,” the voice retorted back. The way the word ‘girlfriend’ fell out with such placid grace made you feel fully convinced he was. Before you could react, a hand pressed to your arm where you felt a little squeeze.

He finished his statement, drawing closing to you, so close that you could feel the material of his jeans up against your bare legs. “So, could you please just leave her alone?”

The man could only pin his attention to you, glowering as he proceeded to exit from your view.

You should feel some sense of relief at the fact nothing else happened, yet a dismissal cloud formed over your judgment. You spun to the complacent stranger and snapped, “You know I didn’t need your help back there; I could have handled the situation well all by myself.”

Before you stood a lean young man with fresh waves of dark curls nested in deep-rooted locks. You couldn’t help but notice deep set dimple as he warmly smiled at you.

He didn’t seem too offended by your lack of gratitude, shrugging, “I know that, but I just thought just in case- “

“In case what? I needed a knight in shining armour?!”

A moment of unhinged hostility warped the setting as the barman, taking no heed to what just happened, placed down two small shot glasses of coffee liqueur and cream.

“That’ll be £8.50 when you’re ready.”

Grumbles of protest and yearning for the jerk who ordered them made their way up your scratchy throat, yet the stranger immediately handed over a £10. You blinked, astonished at his gesture.

“Also, could we get two cups of water whenever you’re ready.”

The barman acknowledged the request before he steered away to other orders.

Wavering disbelief washed over you as you watched him nudge at the drinks.

“Honestly, I should pay you back, I’m really sorry about all that. I shouldn’t lash out at you. It’s just frustrating when it happens, that’s all…. make you feel like you can’t enjoy yourself.”

He took no heed to your apology, with a touch of tenderness in his complexion. “Honestly, it’s okay, I completely understand.”

You crooked your head as if to say, You sure? at the drinks.

He responded by taking a shot of baby Guinness in his hand. Stretching out a hand, he cheered, “To tossers.”

Gingerly, you mimicked his action, clinking your glass with him before taking a slug of your drink. You both grimaced at the sweet explosion to your taste buds.

Handing you the glass of water you required that caused all this commotion, you mumbled thanks before gulping down two-thirds of the glass. Letting out a refreshed sigh of relief, you couldn’t help but notice the young man was staring at you.

Unsure whether or not he seemed interested to engage furthermore, you attempted being friendly by saying, “I’m sorry but I never caught your name?”

“Oh, right” he faintly chuckled to himself. “For a second I was really into the role and thought you knew it already- I’m Fionn by the way.”

Extending your hand forward to greet him formerly, you said “Y/N.”

“Well Y/N, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

The touch of his fingers clasped around yours made the water you just drank want to spring back up through your nose.

“So, what brings you here tonight?”

A ‘pfft’ sound escaped his faint coral-tinted lips. “Oh, you know, the usual night with the friends, you?”

“Same here.”

You both exchanged bashful smiles as if to say, ‘But this was possibly the best part of the night so far.

It wasn’t long before the two of you started to engage in great conversation at the side of the bar, conversing in depth about college life, hobbies and all sorts of trivial things. You both snickered at each other’s answers to hypothetical questions acknowledged each other with comfort at moments where you both expressed lows and even answered in long-winded strides what you would bring with you to a desert island and why.

At one stage you caught sight of another gang of bulging blokes and couldn’t help but lean a bit closer to Fionn.  

Fionn sensed your sudden change and suddenly placed a hand by your side. “Are you okay?”

“Oh no, I’m fine honestly, I just got a bit side-tracked…” before you darted your eyes back to see if the men were gone.

Once the coast seemed clear, you straightened your posture, trying to act like nothing just happened.

“Look I’m really sorry but I think I need to find my friends…I’m sharing a taxi back with them due to a lack of funds…”

Fionn is quick to respond, perhaps a little bit too eager. “I could pay for your taxi if you want?”

It seemed tempting, yet you didn’t even rightly know this guy properly to let suggestions like that slip into your mind. You swatted away the idea before saying, “No it’s okay, it’s fine. Really, I should be getting back to them…” yet the words die down your larynx.

How many times have you ever had a gorgeous guy stand in front of you on a night like this? You were used to the awkward moments that came with any flirtatious encounter you hacked at. You proceeded with the deep tongue kisses and then the awkward ‘hey can I get your number?’ with nothing happening afterwards.

Yet this seemed different. You could tell he was trying to catch glances of you whenever you weren’t looking. You could tell by the subtlety he professed, with the speck of wonder and intense curiosity the flickered each time he blinked with his long eyelashes that he was interested in your presence.

How many guys would go and save a girl from an asshole like Fionn just did for you tonight? Come to think of it, none of the guys you ever had a possible spark with would initiate such mannerism. So why were you letting it slip away?

It was as if he was catching on to every syllable that left your lips, waiting for the moment you would decide his fate as his lower thin lip hung open a little.

“On second thoughts…you actually wouldn’t mind if we stopped somewhere to get milk?”

He scrunched his eyebrows at you. “Milk?”

“It’s not too weird to ask for milk for a cup of tea?”

Pressing his lips together and nodding, he approved of the idea. Then out came, “What way do you take your tea?”

You were taken aback by the question. No one besides from your friends have ever asked for your preference for tea.

“Hmm…well I have to say I’m a diehard fan of a strong cup with a drop of milk, no sugar…you?”

Fionn scoffed, “I’m not telling you how I like my tea!”

You gasped at his amusing remark. “How come? I just told you my dirty little secret, why can’t you tell me yours?”

He dramatically walked away from the bar before winking, “That’s for you to find out later.”

* * * *

The taxi back to your apartment was surprisingly quick considering the abundance of students out for the night. The taximan took no heed of Fionn carrying a carton of fat-free milk and a packet of rich-tea biscuits. (As he stated proudly in the late-night shop, ‘You always need rich tea biscuits for a late-night tea drinking session.’) Fionn carried the conversation as he sat in the front seat, discussing various things like Brexit to McDonald’s milkshakes. Somehow the lad possessed a strong power with his words, luring everyone in with his distinct charm.

One you managed to find your keys, you sent a quick text to your friends, half-lying that you weren’t feeling too good and felt a night with a cup of tea would do you good. The time when you sent your half-hearted text read 1:47 on your phone, which left you dumbfounded. You remembered getting into the club for 11 and only after possible five or six songs did the fiasco happen. Did you somehow manage to spend all that time with Fionn?

When Fionn approached the hallway of your apartment, he kicked off his brown shoes to reveal a pair of blue spotted socks. He stripped off his bomber jacket to reveal the full extent of his navy shirt. Along with his buckled jeans, he particularly looked the part.

Following you into your tight-spaced kitchen, he grabbed a chair and sat down, the back of the chair facing forward.

“Now, the big question is, what tea do you have?”

You followed suit, taking off your flats and denim jacket, trailing along the cold tiles in your bare feet. Your black floral dress flounced up as your black painted toes crept about to a cupboard at the top left to reveal your sacred tea collection. Unveiling a selection of tattered boxes that varied from different brands, he swooned.

“Trust living with three tea addicts.” You then proceed to fill your globular red shaped kettle with water from the tap.

Fionn now leaned forward towards the kitchen table, his right elbow leaning on the red oak, a hand placed under his chin. “Now the next important question, what sort of cup can I have this special tea in?”

With your back turned to him, you let his words recycle in the abyss of your mind, hoping they would somehow stay there forever.  The way his voice rose and fell delicately, as rich as fresh honey had you fixated. The thought allowed for a bubbling eruption of butterflies creep up your stomach, pushing up to your fingers as they glided towards another cupboard door.

Staring at your collection, you picked out your favourite mug, a deep rounded turquoise mug that was decorated with polar bears. It was the perfect mug for its height and its ceramic sturdiness that could withstand any jolt or knock.

Right then, it seemed very tempting to hand Fionn a comical mug, the sort you’d get as a souvenir on holidays. Yet you resisted, as you wanted to create a moment that perhaps would lure Fionn in. To make him stay.

“How about this one?”

You revealed a tall ceramic butterscotch coloured mug. It was the first mug you purchased when you officially started drinking tea. Not like many people, you knew; you carried the secret of only starting to like tea when you were studying for your A-Levels. It became your virtue and your vice as you sipped through dozens of cups as you crammed for your exams.

Fionn hummed before saying, “That’s a really nice mug!”

His comment almost caught you off guard, so much so, when you were about to place the mug down on the counter, you almost missed it.

Fumbling and placing it back up securely, you hoped Fionn hadn’t noticed, yet a guffaw told you otherwise.

“Sorry, I just don’t usually have people over for tea, especially at this hour.”

“Well if you want me to go I can- “Fionn started, which immediately sent mayday sirens blaring.

“No, no, no! Stay! I just meant; I like having the company.”

He seemed a bit taken aback by your comment, beaming at you. “Well, I’m glad to be an honourable late-night guest.”

There was a moment where you both stared attentively at each other just before the kettle went off. Sheepishly, you returned to your duties- appearing somehow like Mrs Doyle from Father Ted- as you poured hot water into your cup.

Next thing you know, Fionn was standing beside you, reaching over to get a particular brand of teabag. “May I?”

You stepped aside, allowing him to strength over and grab a pyramid bag. He took a chance and peered into yours. “So, I take it you’re not a fan of PG tips then?”

“Nope. Barry’s all the way.”

Fionn almost scolded himself as he jerked the kettle. “What? You can’t be serious?!”

“Why? What’s so wrong with Barry’s?”

His mouth opened and closed for a few seconds before he spoke again. “It’s so bad I think I may have to leave now,” and he started, pretending to edge away from the counter.

“Honestly it’s not that bad!” You defended yourself while you stirred your teabag. “I think I’m into it as my dad was always a fan.”

“Funny, you’re the first person I’ve ever met who actually drinks Barry’s.”

“Well you know what they say, you learn something new each day.”

He then let out another gasp, pointing a long finger at you. “Why are you stirring your tea? You know you always have to let the teabag brew.”

“I know, I know, but it’s late and I’m impatient.”

“God Y/N, you really learn a lot about a person by how they make their tea.”

You tried to hold back your laugh, but it found its way, slipping out through teeth. This was going to be a fun night.

Once you both finished your dispute over tea, you invited Fionn to sit on your plush grey couches in the other room. You apologised for the weathered state it was in due to various tea spills and the odd strangler your housemates forced to sleep on it. Yet Fionn didn’t seem to care.

Settling himself down, he moved back and forth in his spot where he sat until he found a comfortable position; one right beside you.

You seemed more relaxed now, as you both got back into your peculiar topics, from Netflix series to cooking disasters and even describing your greatest fears.

The golden liquid you both sipped was an extra comfort to the night. It brought its gentle warmth of reassurance from the way your hands gripped each side of your mugs, to the rich aroma that only tea could provide. It was the stabilisers to each other’s pounding heartbeats that neither one would acknowledge.

At one stage did you look at the clock, which read 3:52. Usually, you would beat yourself up for staying up late, yet this was different. This didn’t involve a round of binge-watching tv or even a late foundling with yourself. This was human interaction; even one in a way that seemed so different from every single one ever before.

Once again Fionn was looking at you when he thought you wouldn’t notice and also glanced over at the clock. Startled, his reaction told another fate that could determine the night.

“Oh my god- I’m so sorry, I should probably book a taxi right now back to mine. I’m so sorry for keeping you up this late!”

He sprung himself up from the couch and every cell in your body was telling you to react. Yet all you could muster was to stay still and watch him leave the room to return his mug back to your kitchen. When he returned, you were still in the same spot, staring wide eyes at the complexity in front of you.

Under the faint lighting, his face looked peachy, dashed with flickers of freckles. The definite small mole on the bottom left side of his chin appeared like a speck of earth. If you could invade his skin further; if you could trace your fingers on every particle; if you could feel the rush of his bloodstream against yours. All the possibilities seemed endless; an infinite matter of distress and affection thrown into one, a feeling that ebbed away at you. A feeling you couldn’t let go.

It was then your body jolted you forward, your steps long and elegant as your whole body pressed forward to Fionn’s.

It started with your lips touching his, etching a tender pluck. You waited, recoiling a little to wait for Fionn’s response. It is only when he reached forward, his left hand extending to grasp yours. He cascaded his touch while you both continued kissing, getting closer with each breath.

Standing there, you pressed a hand at the small of his back, with Fionn copying your action. The grip of his fingers against the light fabric of your dress; the way he pressed down harder as he pulled you in closer, it was all too much, all too real.

Both searching amongst each other’s lips, it wasn’t long before more motions occurred, such as Fionn drawing his feet closer to the couch, where you toppled backwards on. He still had his hands all over you, placing kisses now not just on your lips but on your bare neck, creating pressure as he sucked hard, leaving you breathless.

With your head hurled back and your hair flowing in scattered strands over the couch, your hands gripped tight on the edge of the cushioned furniture as Fionn scattered an array of tough kisses over your neck, before creeping down to the buttons of your floral dress.

Looking up with pleading eyes, begging for more of your skin, you assist him with the petite buttons, unbuttoning them one by one. His hands catch onto yours for a moment and you feel the tremor pulse to yours. Perhaps it was nerves or ecstasy of desire, yet you let the question surpass as the top of your floral dress was swiftly stripped away to reveal the cold bare skin of your chest.

As you laid there, you allowed your fingers to intertwine with his great knots of hair as Fionn continued to pant hard, engaging with deeper passionate kisses before placing emphasise on the bottom end of your dress.

His fingernails clawed into your waist, etching towards your delicate undergarments. His fingers pattered against the wrinkles of your upper thighs. You panted as the movement is nimble, his kisses becoming deeper, more vivid as he explored your inner thighs with his mouth.  At one stage, he has gained control of you wholly, becoming a part of you as he breathed more touch into you. The moment is brisk, caught off guard by a sudden jolt of your right leg.

Yet Fionn took no heed, prying hard still on your inner layers, his fingers making their way up as well.

His actions led to more out of breath trembling from inside of you, as you could only seem to focus on his motions.  His dedication to perfect his touch not only evoked chills; it was the invasion of your inner depth, where no one has ever gone before, that paralysed you to the core.

Your racing heart hammered everything that came out of your head at that moment.

How did you end up here in the first place?

How was it that it was him who protected you?

How was this all making sense?

Then, a great sharp exhale escaped from the base of your throat as your body curled.

Fionn stopped, turning his attention back to you, his hand brushing against your thighs.

“I’m sorry if I got a bit carried away,” he panted while fixing at a few loose strands of hair. It was clear he had worked up a bit of a sweat as his cheeks appeared rosy in colour.

“No, you’re fine…I quite liked it actually,” is all you could suffice, yet you both knew there was something more to how you were feeling.

Fionn’s lips curled upwards as he pushed his body forward, eventually sagging right beside you, his hand resting at the armrest.

You responded by moving to allow him to lie down properly, allowing your head to rest on his chest. Inside, you could detect the hammering that personified his emotions for the night.

Lub-dub. Lub-dup. Lub-dub. It continued rapidly, your eardrum catching each one.

With his right arm wrapped around yours, he snuggled closer to you, before you faintly whispered, “We can go to my bed if you want to,” yet in your head, you wished that he wouldn’t object to laying here still, allowing each quantum scatter and locate in your memories.

“It’s okay, I quite like this,” he replied back with a half yawn, as if he knew what you were thinking.

But perhaps he was thinking all the same as this night had somehow led to a moment you both never imagined would happen, and yet, somehow it did. Somehow, you were both drawn together in this spectrum of life to be together, something that would make this hectic sense of life more manageable, perhaps even a little bit more meaningful.

And for that, while you dozed beside Fionn, your arms tightly wrapped around his frame, was something worth more than all the cups of tea in the world.

‘Babysitter’s Club’

Originally posted by lowkey--mcgee

Title: Babysitter’s Club (lads forgive me for the cheesy title, it helps set the mood)

Pairing: Stefan Butler x Reader

Summary:  You are left to mind Pearl when Colin and Kitty head out the town, only to have Stefan arrive out of the blue.

Words: 3304

Other works:  Fionn Whitehead x Reader Works: ‘Never trust vodka’ ‘An awkward brunch’ ‘Don’t stop me now’ ‘A late night guest’

Warnings: None.

Note: So, I decided to go all out and venture into the world of Bandersnatch! Honestly, I have always been obsessed with Black Mirror and often the premise of the series has inspired my own personal pieces, so I thought now why not try something different and write for a show I love! (Of course, obviously for Fionn too but *cough* that’s sort of obvious at this stage)

And yes, some people may think by this piece I’m giving into the whole misconception of Stefan being a ‘soft boy’ (yes I just used such terminology  slang to describe Stefan, fight me) but honestly I said due to my fried brain, I’d take it easy and just attempt to write something nice like this, but trust me, once I’m back into the flow of things I do plan to write more intense pieces involving Stefan. I’m just leaving the intense pieces I have in mind until I’m not dealing with overbearing college work as I would like to have them as works I can put 110% into!

Also sorry if this piece feels rushed and that there could be one or two mistakes, I said I’d post something before I have to tie myself to the desk and I’m not 100% myself thanks to a lovely case of the flu- but I did get a brainwave for a nice piece involving Adam Henry from the Children Act (okay maybe not one piece but perhaps more or less a collection of ideas) which I think I might work on next- it’s just with all the coming and going with college work, my head is a bit all over the place so excuse me for reflecting that in my work. 

But nevertheless, I’m still blown away that I somehow I wrote two pieces in the space of two days when give or take a few months ago, I could barely write three pages without giving up! (Also not wanting to hype myself up in a snobby way but I’m still super proud of somehow incorporating one of my all-time favourite song with Fionn)

Also, I am not a babysitting expert, so I’m sorry if my terminology is off!!! Also, I know Pearl is older, but of course like any AU I’m just changing it a little if that’s okay!

Like always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Also, if anyone wants to request anything just go ahead (but maybe something not too nsfw but it depends) as my ask box is open!

Anyways, hope you enjoy! Xx

Keep reading

‘Don’t stop me now’

Originally posted by fionnlydarling

Title: ‘Don’t stop me now’

Pairing: Fionn Whitehead x Reader

Summary: A date takes an unexpected turn at a local indie concert.

Words: 4290

Other works:  ‘Never trust vodka’ ‘An awkward brunch’ ‘A late night guest’

Warnings: Probably cheesy dance moves maybe???  

Note:  So I got a request to write something along the lines of going to a concert with Fionn and immediately this idea came to mind, somewhat inspired by real events so I thought I’d have a go at it to celebrate finishing a 2500 English essay (because what better way than spending a whole day writing than to write some more!) I hope whoever it was that requested this enjoys this and this is what they wanted to read- I just added my own little twist at the end which I hope is okay instead of just focussing on a concert itself! Speaking of twist, I felt a certain someone’s songs didn’t really set the mood, so I just went with a good old classic to set the scene! 😊

(Also random note- don’t mind my bus terminology in this, have no clue about London buses so I’m basing it on what city buses are like in Ireland, and yet this country girl still has no clue how they work either….also I have no clue about anything music so if I overuse words such as ‘chord’ or ‘beat’, then please forgive me!)

Also just want to say thank you all for the lovely words and the support with my writing. It’s just so lovely to be part of a community that makes writing so rewarding! I appreciate every single one of you

Also, if anyone wants to request anything just go ahead (but maybe something not too nsfw but it depends) as my ask box is open!

Anyways, hope you enjoy! Xx

Keep reading

“Collins,” he says, a little strangled. “I feel bad about how we ended things last night.”

“I stand by why I said.”

“I don’t. It was … unfair of me to assume those things about you.”

“It’s fine,” says Collins.

“It’s fine?” Farrier doesn’t believe him for one moment. He can feel them reverting back to whatever they were before last night, both with tall, towering castles built, with walls so high they disappear into the clouds. What lies beyond them, what could be born beyond the clouds, where the walls fade away and the world can no longer see?

chapter 4 is up !!!! click HERE to read it, or click HERE to start at the beginning !!!!

“Sit, why don’t you?”

“I don’t like you very much, Collins,” Farrier says lamely.

“I don’t care for you, either, but you en’t gonna sit with them, and there en’t another chair open, save this one. So I guess you can keep standing in the doorway like a right bampot, or sit.”

Farrier glares at him outright, for there’s no way he can argue with that. The rivalry between themselves and the Irish outlasts the rivalry between himself and Collins by a handful of centuries. That must account for something, so he sits.

chapter three of beyond the clouds is up !!!! click HERE to read the latest chapter, or click HERE to start at the very beginning ( a very good place to start )

We’ll Meet Again, We’ll Part Once More (Part 5)

Read Part 1 here

Read Part 2 here

Read Part 3 here

Read Part 4 here

Before I knew it, the autumn had passed me by in an instant, and Christmas was fast approaching. I had never felt so alone as I had that winter. The nights were drawing in, getting colder and so was I. I had begun my lonely months distancing myself from others, convinced that Alex would return in days or weeks, but I knew that wasn’t the truth. The real truth was that if I kept on keeping to myself in isolation, then I would grow lonelier and lonelier by the day, and I often worried I had lost all social capabilities at all. Some days I wouldn’t speak to a soul. In early December I left the house to get some Christmas presents and do the grocery shop for Christmas dinner. Once I’d walked into town, I realised that I would be spending Christmas alone and that I had no one to buy gifts for.

I spent the nights obsessively clinging to every word that was spoken on the wireless and praying that the government would make an announcement. Something along the lines of “War is a silly idea and so, as a result, we are pulling out and bringing all our troops home” would suffice.

On Christmas Eve, there was a knock at the door. It was just as I was settling down for the night, trying not to cry, trying not to think about the next day, but most of all, trying not to think about what Alex was doing. Wrapping my dressing gown tightly around me, I turned on the kitchen light and opened the front door to a cold blast of December air. There stood a woman wearing a sorrowful looking frown, wrapped up in fur and carrying a Tupperware box and more bags than she seemed capable of. “Mum?” I said, my face obviously failing to hide my shock. “Darling! Don’t look too excited to see me then…” She said as she shoved her way into the house, dumping her coat and bags into my arms as she passed. “Uh- what are you doing here?” Was all I could say. “I came to see you, darling. See how you’re doing.” My mother then did something that she’d never done in my whole life. She cupped my cheeks in her freezing cold hands and I was unfamiliar and uncomfortable with her affection. I pulled my face away, unsure of whether I was dreaming or having a nightmare. “Come on then,” she said. “Put that kettle on and we’ll have a proper catch up.” Rubbing her hands together, she grinned and walked into the living room. In total shock, I boiled the kettle, waited for it to whistle and took two teacups out of the cupboard.

By the time I eventually walked into the living room with the cups of tea, my mother had removed her shoes and propped her feet up on the coffee table.

“It’s cold in here.” Was all she said when I handed her the drink.

For a while, we sat in silence while she slurped her tea in a very un-lady-like manner, I just stared.

“Mum, why are you here?” Was all I could manage to say to break the silence.

“I came to see my daughter! What’s wrong with that?” She sounded insulted.

“Well nothing, but you never come to see me. Mum, I haven’t seen you in nearly six years.” I didn’t want to cry. She didn’t deserve my tears. But saying it out loud made it seem more real. That my mother had pretty much abandoned me. When I was 2, my dad went to fight in Italy in the First World War. He never came home. My mother and I had never had a close relationship. I was sent to boarding school and was brought up by amazing women that were not her. One year, when I was 5, I can remember my mother telling me I was going to have a brother and that she would be very busy from now on. I boarded at my school, hundreds of miles from her, for three years without coming home. I was told mother was too busy. And when I finally did, there was a man in my father’s armchair. Mother said his name was Gerald and that he was my dad now. There was also a little boy, whose name was Arthur and I had to call him my brother. Of course, this only lasted for a short while before mother packed me back off to boarding school.

Eventually, I turned 17 and met Alex. He made me feel more at home than I had ever felt. We bought our little house and I never looked back. He was my family as far as I was concerned. I had no one else but friends, who were usually his friends first.

“I know, darling, but it’s not my fault, you know. Your father and I have been very busy what with Arthur being packed off to war.” She pretended to look distressed.

“He’s not my father.” I said through gritted teeth.

“Honestly! That’s so typical of you. I tell you that you’re brother has gone off to war at 18 years old and all you care about is yourself!” She huffed to try to calm herself down.

All I could do was bite my lip to stop myself.

“Alex has gone too, you know.” I whispered into the awkward silence.

“Of course I know.” Was the extent of her sympathy. “He is older than Arthur. He can look after himself. My poor baby-“

“I was 17 when you stopped talking to me all together.”

“Oh- Polly stop!” She stood up quickly and slammed her teacup down on the table. “Your father is a mess, I couldn’t bear to be around him anymore. I came to you thinking you’d have a shred of sympathy-“ She was close to tears.

“Why would I? You have no sympathy for me.” I was on my feet now too, but only so that I could take my cup into the kitchen and be away from her.

“My child has gone to war. Boyfriends are replaceable.”

I put my cup in the sink and could barely bring myself to turn around to look at her.

“Get out.”

“What? I’m your mother. It’s Christmas Eve. I raised you!” She folded her arms and stood firmly in her place.

“You didn’t raise me. You don’t even know me. We’re strangers. I don’t care about Arthur any more than you care about Alex. And clearly, to a person like you, children are replaceable. You replaced me with him.” I couldn’t even walk closer to her. Her presence disgusted me, and her hatred for Alex made my blood boil.

“Look at this place,” her eyes wondered around the kitchen. “Was this the best you could do? Living with a filthy miner who won’t even commit to you. Doesn’t that prove to you how little you’re worth, yet you’re strutting around like you’re above the rest of us. That boy will amount to nothing and I knew that from the start. He’s done nothing for you, and never will. If I’m honest, I think it would be best if he didn’t ever come home.” Her eyes screwed up, her face became more angry and eventually her fist was screwed up into a ball.

“Shut up.”

“Where did you even find him?” She said, completely ignoring me.

As much as I wanted to ignore her question, and remain in dignified silence, I had to stick up for Alex.

“I found him when nobody else was there for me. I felt like nobody in the whole world loved me.” I was beginning to feel tears fall down my face.

“Darling,” my mother said in a calmed voice, walking towards me, “he doesn’t love you. You were lonely and desperate for love. You settled for the closest thing that you could. But it’s far from perfect. Look at you, look at this place.” The back of her hand grazed my cheek and I flinched.

“Go away. I don’t want you here.”

“Darling, you can’t be on your own on Christmas.” She laughed.

“I’d rather be alone than with you.” I pushed my way past her and towards the coat wrack. I handed her her’s and shoved her bags into her arms. Pulling my coat on, I hurried us both out of the front door.

“Where are you going?” My mother called after me. But I didn’t respond. I walked so forcefully she couldn’t keep up. At the end of the road, there sat a bright red, lit, phone box. Angrily, I pulled open the door and aggressively asked my mother for Gerald’s phone number. She read it out to me and I punched it in.

After I’d finished, I told her,

“He’ll be here to pick you up soon. You can wait in the pub around the corner.”

“Polly, come on-“ she said.

“No, leave me alone. Alex is my family now, and that’s all I need.” I turned away from her and started walking back to the house.

“Well that’s very sad.” She shouted to me as she stood in the middle of the frosty street.

I hardly remember what happened after that. I woke up the next morning on the sofa, jolting myself upright in utter confusion. Those dozy first few seconds are sometimes the best of the day, because in that moment I had managed to convince myself that Alex was back. He was at home with me and he was making breakfast in the kitchen, waiting for me to wake up so we could unwrap our Christmas presents. But then reality struck. The house was silent and cold and I was alone on Christmas Day. For a few minutes, I sat there, unable to cry but wanting to. Wondering, constantly wondering what Alex was doing, or even where in the world he was.

A knock at the door made me jump.

“If that’s you, mother, I swear to God-“

I swung the door open, gritting my teeth.

“Merry Christmas Polly!” A huge congregation of people were stood on my front door step, dressed in their finest Christmas dress, but wrapped up on top with thick coats and scarves. They held presents, wrapped and glittering, baskets of food and bottles of sparking wine.

I couldn’t even speak. I knew and loved them all. Many of them our neighbours, the wives of Alex’s work friends, Mrs Daniels, the local butcher who would sometimes be the only person I’d talk to in a day. My friends, Alex’s friends. They hadn’t forgotten me.

“We thought you’d like some company. Just like the rest of us.” One of the women said.

Of course, these women were also alone while their partners were away. I had been so selfish. ~

It was the best Christmas ever. I cooked our turkey, and a team of us prepared the vegetables. We all ate together and laughed and forgot about the horrors that were going on outside our windows.

Mary, one of the oldest members of our Christmas party got to her feet after we’d all eaten. “I have an announcement to make,” she cleared her throat and we all laughed. “Not that Polly deserved it after the ruckus she made in the street last night. Not going to ask-“ I covered my face and we laughed. “Anyway. As many of you know, I got a letter from Roy about a month ago. I know I’m lucky to have got a letter. Many of our lads don’t have the luxury of a permanent base,” she looked to the ground. “But at the end of the letter, there’s something for you, Polly.” She pulled the letter from her pocket and began to read, “P.s. This bit is from Alex to Polly-“

“Oh my goodness, Mary! Why didn’t you say?” I got to my feet.

“Ah! Sit! This will explain everything.” She cleared her throat again and read on, “‘This bit is from Alex to Polly, so no snooping, Mary.’ How rude. ‘Please do not read this until Christmas Day. My dearest Polly, I want to say thank you for agreeing to be my wife.’” Mary stopped, “WHAT?” All if the other girls looked at me and said things like ‘Oh, congratulations’, ‘How wonderful’, and ‘You kept that quiet!’ I giggled,

“Carry on!”

“‘I can’t wait to marry you one day, and when I come home to you, my love, I promise I will never leave you again. My Christmas present to you is in my bedside drawer, under my socks. Go and have a look. Merry Christmas Pol, love you forever. Alex.’ Aww how sweet!” Mary looked up at me and giggled at the tears rolling down my cheeks.

“Well go on then,” said Jane, one of the girls, as the others practically shoved me up the stairs to have a look for my Christmas present.

As a got to the top of the stairs, I had a feeling the other girls knew as they were all gasping and giggling with excitement. I smiled a real smile for the first time in what felt like years. Sitting down on Alex’s side of the bed, I pulled open his bedside drawer and fumbled my hand around, pushing past his socks. Tucked right at the back of the draw I felt soft velvet and grasped my hand around it. I brought it out and looked down at it, covering my mouth as I did. A ruby red ring box sat neatly in my hand. I caught my breath enough to open the lid of the box. Looking back at me, glinting and winking in the winter sun, a perfect diamond ring sat small but proud, and I had never seen anything more beautiful in my life. I let out a soft cry and slid the ring on my finger, whispering ‘I will, Alex.’

We’ll Meet Again, We’ll Part Once More (Part 4)

Read Part 1 here

Read Part 2 here

Read Part 3 here

Read Part 5 here

No matter how much I willed it not to, the next morning eventually came. We had listened to the wireless whilst eating dinner last evening and it had stated very matter-of-factory that Britain had declared war on Germany and that all men between the ages of 18 and 41 were to register for service the next day.

We woke early, both unwilling to move from the bed and untangle ourselves from one another. Alex sat, head in his hands, on the side of the bed as I descended the stairs to make him breakfast. We didn’t speak. I just watched him. Watched him sigh, watched him huff, even watched him tear up a few times. But not once did he question what he believed was his duty. It wasn’t a question of whether Alex would sign up, it was a question of why. Neither of us really undertsood it, in fact, I don’t believe half of the nation understood it, but we both knew it had to be done.

“I’ll fight for you, love,” Was all Alex said as he sat at the kitchen table silently eating his eggs.

“I don’t want you to fight for me.” I was staring at my breakfast, unable to eat. I didn’t look up.

“I have to fight for something. Otherwise I’ll go mad, questioning what I’m even doing it for.”

“We hardly know, Alex.” I said in a half-whisper.

“It’s not to win against the Germans. It’s to protect ourselves. I’ll fight for you and Mrs Daniels and my fellow miners. The people in this street and in this town. You all deserve better than what you’re getting now.” He tried to speak bravely but I heard his voice crack a few times.

“Spoken like a true soldier,” I tried to force a smile but one didn’t come. Nor for Alex.

After breakfast, we dressed in silence. Alex packed a bag in silence. He filled it with his absolute essentials and downstairs, I made him a packed lunch. We put our coats on in silence and walked out the door. As I swung open the front gate, I noticed Alex was not with me. Behind me, he was staring blankly at our bright red front door. He looked up at the house, slowly raised his hand and placed a flat palm on the rotting wooden door, almost as if he was patting it ‘well done’.

“Alex,” I walked back to him, “I promise you’ll come back.” My hand was resting on his shoulder. When he turned he sniffed.

“You can’t promise that.”

I sunk into his embrace, my arms locking around his neck, his head resting on my shoulder as I heard him desperately trying to stifle cries.

“I love you so much.” I said into his collar. His fingers tightly gripped at my dress and I took that as his reply.

We walked hand-in -hand to the station, and neither of us knew what to say to one another that wouldn’t make the other one cry, so we just enjoyed each other’s company while we could.

It was as if the entire town was emptying itself of all its men. Pilgrimages of couples and families were making their way to the tiny station on the outskirts of town. The platform was over-flowing with men in different uniforms, hysterical women and confused children.

We approached a small desk inside the station where a man in a dark green uniform and cap sat. Alex gave his name and told them he wished to offer his services to the army. I stood back and watched him shake hands with the important-looking gentleman, get handed a khaki uniform and told “Welcome, Private.” And it was that easy. In no more than sixty seconds the love of my life had potentially signed his life away. I had to stop my train of thought though, as it was beginning to become all too much. Alex was directed into a small changing booth and moments later he emerged looking almost unrecognisable. In an instant he had become nothing more than one of the thousands and thousands of khaki-green clad men who were no longer individuals, but German targets on a battlefield. If I hadn’t have thought about this, I suppose I would’ve thought him extremely handsome. A photograph was quickly snapped of him as a member of the Royal Highlands rigiment, and he was ushered onto the station platform, me following him in-tow. I handed him his rucksack, which was also khaki green and put his packed lunch in it.

We stood, looking at one another, unsure what to say on the edge of the platform as a steam train slowly approached. It’s whilstle blew and the first men began to board. There were so many women, crying and whaling, gripping onto their men with all their might, begging them not to leave. But Alex and I were silent. We understood. Of course, we were both breaking inside, but we knew that our love for each other was unconditional and that we’d see each other again. He took a deep breath and so did I. His eyes began to well up.

“Now c’mon, none of that,” I said as I pulled myself into him, letting him rest his head on my shoulder. I felt him inhale deeply as if he was taking in my scent, so that he might remember it in the months to come.

“I love you so much, Poll,” Alex whispered into my ear.

“I love you too, Alex…. So so much.” It took all my strength not to break down and whimper into his chest.

He pulled away from me, taking a deep breath to keep his tears at bay.

“Promise me something,” he said. “Promise me that if I come back-“

I interrupted him, “When you come back.”

He didn’t crack a smile. Only looked down at my dress.

“When I come back, will you promise to marry me?” He said, eventually bringing his eyes up to meet mine.

“Are you proposing to me, Alex?” I stumbled over my words, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

“I think I am…” He said, somehow managing to raise a slight smile on one side of his face. A knowing smile that he knew I had always found endearing. That glint in his eye was not completely lost.

I couldn’t help but grin, “Yes, Alex- I…. Yes, I do promise to marry you.”

I jumped onto him, taking him aback and kissed him all over his face, his neck, any exposed part of skin I could find. I felt him laughing against me. He found my lips with his and we kissed so passionately that I knew neither of us could forget it in a hurry. The kind of kiss you want to have when you know you won’t be together for a long, long time. And it was perfect. He was perfect. This moment was perfect, except when I fell back into reality, it wasn’t. The train blew its whistle again and Alex was one of the few soldiers still left on the platform. The conductor patrolled the platform.

“Onto the train now, everyone. All Highlanders onto the train, please.”

“Okay-“ was all Alex could manage as he squeezed my hand and slowly began to let go. I pulled him back for another peck, but it would never be enough. In that second, I’d gone from the happiest I’d ever been to the saddest, as I watched the love of my life step unwillingly onto the train, looking back at me and disappeared down the carriage.

The train began to leave the station almost as soon as Alex had boarded and all I could do was hopelessly watch it pull away and fade into the distance, alone.

We’ll Meet Again, We’ll Part Once More (Part 2)

Read Part 1 here

Read Part 3 here

Read part 4 here

Read Part 5 here

Part 2

Rain gently beating on the window woke me with a soft morning welcome. It made everything seem so much more graceful and delicate. Like everything was right in the world. In its place and perfect. And it was, in that moment.

During the night Alex and I had separated from one another. I urgently outstretched my arm to lazily claw at him. My hand found his chest, and guided me towards him. I pulled myself into him and nestled in tightly, inhaling with a sign. He stirred with groggy morning moans and absent-minded, dreamy kisses, placing them in my hair. His arms pulled me closer as he buried his face into the mess of hair on the top of my head.

“Urghhh”, he signed and began to move about more, as he tended to do before dragging himself out of bed.

“Shh, it’s not morning yet, gorgeous.” I told him in a whisper. That seemed to settle him and his breathing once again became deeper.

The truth was, I had no idea what the time was. But I didn’t think it mattered. So what if it was noon and Alex was late to work? He wouldn’t be working there much longer anyway. Spending time with his girlfriend was much more important. At least, I justified this until I realised that he wasn’t actually spending time with his girlfriend. He was asleep. I wanted so badly to wake him, to tell him he didn’t have to go to work. But I didn’t want to tell him why. How could I? I’d given myself until morning to work out how I was going to tell him, but morning was here and I still had no idea.

I lifted my head and looked over Alex at his bed-Side table. His watch lay there and I could just make out the distinctive time of Six O'clock on the watch-face. Alex should be getting up now. I couldn’t make him late for work, maybe I could just carry on as normal and pretend that that awful wireless broadcast never happened. It was all a terrible nightmare.

I pushed myself up by my elbows and leaned over Alex. I sat up, my hand resting on Alex’s thigh as I gently nudged him.

“Wake up, it’s time to get up.” I rubbed my eyes and sat, looking down on him.

“I’m up, I’m up.” He inhaled deeply through his nose, rolling over and picking up his watch from the table. As he sat up, he swung his legs out the side of the bed, sitting perched on the bedside and putting on his watch. I don’t remember it but he must’ve become hot in the night as he had taken his shirt off. His bare back faced me and it was much too tempting not to place a flat palm to it, rubbing my hand from side to side and eventually up to his muscly shoulder. He must’ve enjoyed the feeling as he sat on the edge of the bed for much longer than usual.

Alex was never a morning person, so we spoke very little in the mornings. He was usually a lot more talkative after breakfast. I left him to get ready for work whilst I headed downstairs to make breakfast for the two of us, like I would on any normal day.

Half past six on the dot, Alex was dressed and ready and was happily eating away at his boiled eggs and toast.

“You’re very quiet today”, he noted.

I was sat opposite him, arms and legs folded, just watching him.

“Pot kettle”, I smirked.

“Normally you’re on about something, mornings. I can’t get a word in.” He was talking with his mouth full of toast and smiled.

“Oi!” I said, both of us laughing. I picked up the newspaper that was lying folded on the kitchen worktop and playfully hit him on the arm with it. His face turned serious, his eyes boring into me the way that could make me reveal my darkest secrets.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” His voice was deep and soft and he had stopped chewing, waiting for me to answer.

“I’m fine, Alex. Honestly. Stop worrying.” He gave me a knowing look. We were silent. He knew there was something wrong. I swear, he knew me better than myself sometimes. He just held his gaze in my eyes until, I had to look away with a feeling of guilt. Guilt because I was lying right to his face. If I couldn’t tell him what I was thinking, who could I? Knowing my stubbornness though, he wasn’t going to sit there all day trying to pry it out of me.

“Right then,” he said in a particularly loud voice, “I’m off. ” Alex stood up, scraping his chair on the tiles and taking his jacket from the coat hook. I stood, folding my arms across my dressing gown and tucking my hair behind my ear. My eyes never leaving the ground. It was quiet for a while, Alex wasn’t moving or speaking. I looked up at him.

“You’re beautiful”, he said.

I raised a shy smile and looked back at the


“And you’re going to be late.” I shrugged. He looked at his watch, “Shit". In one quick movement he lunged towards me, grabbing my waist and pulling me into a sloppy, rushed kiss, which made me giggle, and turned towards the door and outside. Before I knew it, I was alone.

All morning I tried to busy myself, doing chores, but my mind wondered uncontrollably.The clock in the kitchen chimed 9am. Just as the final bell chimed, there was a knock at the door. I jumped, sighing and putting down the cloth I was absent-mindedly wiping the table with. I turned to the door where I could see the outline of Mrs Daniels, our elderly next-door neighbour. She often came over to catch up on the gossip and sometimes bring us scones and pies, which Alex loved. But he hated her nosiness, and the fact that she would talk for hours on the door step. I opened the door to her sympathetic look.

“Good morning Mrs Daniels,” I said. She said nothing. Just stood there with her arms folded, her eyebrows furrowed over sad eyes. “Everything okay?” I folded my arms too.

“How is he?“ Mrs Daniels said quietly.

“Umm”, I was confused, “Would you like to come in?“ Mrs Daniels bowed her head and walked into the kitchen, sitting down at the table. I began to make us tea and she tutted.

“You poor thing. It’s so unfair. Shouldn’t be happening to a lovely couple like you. So young.” Mrs Daniels was looking down, shaking her head, sorrowful. Of course I knew exactly what she was talking about, but Alex didn’t and the guilt was almostunbearable.

“I’m sorry Mrs Daniels, now’s not actually a good time.” I was fighting back tears. I didn’t want to face what was happening. I didn’t want to talk about it.

“But you invited me in, dear.” She looked confused.

“I’m sorry, I’ve just remembered I have to go out. I’m really busy.” I put the tea cups away in the cupboard and went to open the door. “Sorry, we’ll catch up soon though.” I insisted, guiding her up out of her seat and out the door.

“I know how you must be feeling, dear.” Mrs Daniels looked genuinely tearful. It’s as if she knew exactly how I felt and what I was thinking. "Just remember your lovely lad’s feelings too though. You are both in this together.” She placed a hand on my arm and looked as if she might cry. Mrs Daniels lived alone and, in a way, I think she enjoyed living next door to us. We often had parties that must have kept her awake and sometimes we would shout at each other at silly hours. But she never complained and she only ever looked out for us. Alex might have had a point, she was a busybody, but she was sweet enough. And in that moment, I felt that she really did care, and she truly was sad.

As Mrs Daniels made her way down our garden path she was muttering under her breath, “So young, so young.“ At this, and her heartfelt words, I felt a tear slip down my cheek. I was about to turn away and go back inside where I could once again hide from it all. But as I went to shut the door, I heard an almighty sobbing coming from a few doors down. It was some friends of ours, Barbara and her husband William, who happened to work with Alex down the mines. They were stood on their doorstep, obviously oblivious to the scene they were causing. Barbara was crying uncontrollably into William’s chest as he attempted to comfort her with rather loud shush’s and ‘come on dear’s.’ They went inside the house. I wondered, confused. Why was William not at work? I walked down the garden path to the front gate, looking down the long street. To my complete horror, a mass of miners were walking slowly, every now and then a man would taper off and go down a different street or into a house. I gulped. As the hoard grew nearer, I saw Alex. He was running past the group of men, heading straight towards me. He looked confused and frightened. He must have thought I did too as he said,

“Go back inside love, I’ll explain everything.”

“Alex" was all I could say. Everything went blurry as tears filled my eyes. I grabbed at his jacket lapels and he walked me back into the house, closing the door behind him.

stay with me; {010} everything comes back to you (part 2)

(hey guys! here is part 10 of stay with me! i still have more to write but forced myself to make this a chapter because it was starting to get lengthy, but there will be an epilogue of sorts before it is officially done. after that, i think i’ll be writing one-shots or imagines based off of this fanfic specifically as like headcanons and such, because i’m really invested in this story still lol. i hope you enjoy!)

genre: dunkirk

collins x reader

word count: 2266

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I’m thinking of Anna Popplewell as Florence. Anyways, for some backstory, Florence is a nurse at St. Thomas’s hospital, so do with that information what you will.

Originally posted by western-woods

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7 September 1940

After about fifteen minutes the bus finally pulls around the corner and stops. The doors hiss open and I board the beastly thing, plopping down in my regular window seat after dropping a few pence into the paybox.

I pull Colin’s photograph out of my civilian dress pocket. It’s a worn out thing, taken in 1937 - only three years ago, but it’s seen a lot - and doesn’t include Colin’s updated wartime uniform. He’s sitting, noble and proud, in front of the camera, staring off to the side with an air of competence.

Stashing the photograph back in my pocket, I lean my head against the rumbling window, frustrated with his lack of communication. “Southern England,” however vague that may be, isn’t too terribly far away from London, is it? I know his letters have been less frequent as of late but I blamed it on the current stress on our infrastructure due to the threat of invasion. It’s fascinating, really, how he can get his letters from a heavily bombed location and to my hospital post weekly with no fail. Especially with such a stressful job.

I decide that London is getting chilly as I get off the bus. September is almost fully in swing. I thought I was going to miss summer dearly, but 1940 has not been kind to me as of late.

Colin’s flat key slides smoothly into the lock and I step inside to an immaculately kept living space. A radio sits on the coffee table and a stack of folders spilling out of a briefcase cover up the inevitable stains all such tables possess. I breathe in the flat - it doesn’t smell of dust and neglect, rather like cleaning product and a well lived-in common room. The couch still has its small dip in Colin’s regular spot where he takes his tea and a newspaper beside it. Wait a minute…

I pause and my comfortable smile falls. Something’s not right. Colin has been in the south for months. His post hasn’t changed, yet his overcoat is hanging on the rack and this morning’s paper is folded neatly on the sofa.

I drop my bag and shrug my own overcoat off, searching the flat. Kitchen? Empty, with a line of clean mugs in the drying rack. Bathroom? A clean towel folded on the counter and toiletries in their regular spots. Bedroom? Disaster. I freeze as I hear the front door open.

A sigh. I peek my head around the corner into the living room. Colin is standing there, staring at my overcoat and bag with another briefcase in one hand and hat in the other. He looks around and I retreat back to my hiding spot.

“Flora?” He toes my bag. “We’ve some talking to do, don’t we?” He takes a seat on the couch after putting away his work things and I stand up, fully in view now. He doesn’t look at me.

“I’d say,” I huff angrily, more frustrated than sad at his dishonesty. I ball my hands into fists. I thought he wanted to spend as much time with me as possible. So why has he not written in weeks and why is he here? Deep down, I knew this was going to happen at some point. He’s too secretive.

“Take a seat, darling.” He gestures to the seat opposite the couch.

“Don’t call me that right now.” He steeples his hands and places his chin on top, deep in thought. I take a seat in the indicated chair, legs crossed, and pick at my fingernails. I certainly won’t be speaking first. Despite my anger, I feel hurt, but I put up another facade for the millionth time.

“I’ve been dishonest with you,” he begins. I snort at that and glare at his shoes, feeling his eyes on me. “I was never in the south.”

I stop picking at my fingernails and look directly into his eyes with equal parts accusation and pain. My hands start shaking and I scrounge around my pocket for a cigarette. Once it’s between my lips, I roughly search for a lighter, but Colin’s already lit it for me by the time I find it. He looks genuinely sorry now that I see him up close. I direct my exhale into his face as a warning. Back off. He blinks a few times before continuing, unaffected by my childishness. The next words are worse than treating ballistic trauma victims without anesthetic.

“In fact I’ve been in London the whole time. I want to nullify our engagement. We simply aren’t meant to be together and it’s not working.” He leans back in his seat, stoic after his outburst.

My breath hitches and my heart skips a beat and my world slows down. What?

“My… my family,” I stutter, standing up. He winces. “My family is dead. And you…” I shake with rage. “You ignored me.” I raise my hand, ready to strike the awful man across his face, but I realize my hand is trembling and I collapse back onto the chair, crying for the second time today. After a few minutes of crying to his silence, I roughly stand up, wipe my eyes, and put on my coat and grab my bag. Before I leave, I remove my cigarette to bid him goodbye with as little pomp and circumstance as possible.

“You are nothing.” And with that, I leave and don’t expect to ever return.

anonymous asked:

Something steamy with Collins or just jack lol. Idk what though. Maybe one night stand and becoming more than that. Also fionn? Please? lol maybe flirting with fionn and slowly but surely making out at the beach or music festival, first date? I’m really bad at request sorry. Also Idk if the requests are for their characters in dunkirk or them as themselves. Thanks! x

So I’m going to do this one for Jack since you requested it (one night stand/becoming more). I do love Fionn, trust me, I’m just into Collins more ATM, but I can definitely do a Fionn fic for you, I’ll just have to do it separately. Once I figure out how to do a masterlist, I’ll have sections where you can access everything and you’ll be able to find the Fionn fic when I write it. Thanks for requesting!

“Jack, are you sure about this?” You ask uncertainly, breathing heavily. This was your third time hooking up after a “one night stand” and you weren’t certain what to think of it.

“‘O course, Y/N, why wouldn’t I be sure?” He responds, a little annoyed that you’re asking in the middle of the act. He stops completely when you face betrays your thoughts.

“You think I’m just messin’ with you?” He looks hurt, and you feel bad for ruining the moment. His face is sweaty and his strawberry blonde mop is all over the place. You just want to reach out and touch the almost ginger beard that’s grown in the past week during the press tour for Dunkirk. He leaves you on the hotel room bed and heads to the bathroom. You shiver, suddenly cold without the warmth that intimacy brings.

He comes back in underwear and a t-shirt, then flops down on the bed next to you, disappointed, but still sweaty.

“Jus’ because I called it a one night stand doesn’t mean I’m using you for sex, Y/N.” He looks at you, blue eyes warm and reassuring and your heart melts at this man that you’ve developed feelings for. “That’s just an easy way to describe it.”

“I know.” You pick at the loose threads on the pillow you’d been laying on, wanting to distract yourself from those eyes. “I just…” You face your fear and make direct eye contact.

“Jack, I have feelings for you and I have ever since I met you,” you blurt. He doesn’t look surprised. In fact, he looks happy.

“Y/N. I’d never use someone as beautiful and talented as you as a toy for sex, especially since I have feelings for you too.” He’s just too good at this point and you kiss him roughly, thanking the heavens for such a wonderful man. “

“I ‘preciate the honesty and all, but why don’t we just get back to what we were doing?”

Back Into the Drink

Part 2/2

Word Count: 5,468

A/N: Admittedly, much shorter than part one. Take that how you will :) Again, please comment and let me know how it was, I’d love to hear your thoughts!

Summary: Lost in the crossfires of war, a nurse washes back up on the beach of Dunkirk. Naturally, the last place anyone would want to be in May of 1940. Slight Collins/OC in part two (that’s this one, folks!), but isn’t really about the romance.

Warnings: angsty when dealing with some grief, and self-deprecation/confidence. No real shockers though.

Part 1 Part 2

By the time she made it five, flailing feet from the blue boat, the soldiers ahead of her were just specks in the water.

She started to follow them, arms spinning in a barely-learnt front crawl. They were heading to more ships. Ones that weren’t beached, but looked just as worse for wear.

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stay with me; {006} things we lost

(the title of this chapter is inspired by things we lost in the fire by bastille like listen to that song its v good and bastille in general is amazing. and it’s kind of a play on words. sorry it’s a bit angsty ???? ahead…. yikes. thank u for being patient for this chapter; things are still p busy with me but i promise to keep this fic going until the end. enjoy lovelies~)

genre: dunkirk

collins x reader

word count: 1622

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Calling all Dunkirk fic writers!

I’m considering writing a series that follows Farrier after the events of Dunkirk’s main storyline and I am looking for some assistance in doing so. My greatest need is for people who can help me do research, as I will soon have a lot less time on my hands to do so and I can’t find every little detail I need all by my onesie, but I could also consider anyone who would like to beta read, edit, or maybe even co-write with me. 

Anyone interested can shoot me a message or ask here or swing by my ao3 account at Sandnose (I know most/almost all of those stories are dead, but I’ve been in a bit of a rut as of late). Thanks so much!