#jack lowden fanfic

[acecroft]

SLOW HORSES 1.01

[daydreamgoddess14]

Having an idea for my next River Cartwright fic before I've finished Ties that Bind 😬

oops.

[randomnerdyfan]

My Slough House mutuals absolutely NEED to read this fic! It’s a slow burn Cartwebb for you! It’s still in progress and I‘m honestly checking AO3 every single day to see if it updates, this fic is giving me LIFE!!!

The author is the awesome @cakebatteronabrickwall , go give them some love and kudos!

[yourimagines]

Hi love👋🏻

Can you perhaps write a multiple story about Dunkirk or Pearl harbour. With the actors jack lowden, josh hartnett, ben affleck and Tom hardy. I’m so down for them 😂

If not it’s fine, I understand

Hi, thank you for your request, sorry it took me this long but here is the first part. It's going to be a slow burn ad the readers choose how this story will go, so please tell me what should happen next🧡

Saviour

* English is not my first language I apologise

* Triggers: WW2, Swearing, Angst and fluff

Disclaimer: It’s a fiction based off real life events.

Part two, Part three, Part four

Cast;

Jack Collins 23 years old,

Tom Farrier 26 years old,

Danny Walker 22 years old,

Rafe McCawley 24 years old,

---------------------------

Y/n POV

The world was falling apart slowly as war began to spread across Europe. Most of the men who were above 16 years old joined the military, to fight for our country. I joined the military as well as a 20 year old woman, to help and take care of our men as a nurse.

“This is France.” Mrs Dawson said as she pointed at the map, that was hanging against the wall. “Some of you will go there and help our forces at the front lines, others stay here.” Most girls got excited as they heard about going to France, going to our troops. “We all move to the military base tomorrow morning, pack light because you don’t need anything else than your medical supplies at the front lines.” With that she ended her speech and we all went back to our rooms, getting ready for tomorrow.

——The next day——

It was six in the morning when they woke us up. “Let’s go ladies, time is ticking.” We all got up and got ready. “I’m so excited, I hope I’ll get picked for France.” My best friend said as she put some makeup on. “There is a war going on, you know that right?” She nodded and flashed me a smile through the mirror. “Y/n, there are the real men, not those….you know from town.” I rolled my eyes and smoothed my dress. “Right….just hurry up, I don’t want to be late.”

The train ride was quiet as everyone was nervous. “Please let them be handsome.” One of my new friends said. “Of course they are, all RAF pilots are good looking and respectful men.” A small discussion started between a few ladies. “Y/n needs a man.” My best friend said with a giggle. “No I don’t, I’m not here to find a man.” She gave me a look and shrugged me off. “Everyone is looking for a man…”

After a long travel day we arrived at the military base from the RAF. “Ladies, I want you all to behave and show your best side as captain Morty will guide us to our rooms.” Mrs Dawson said as captain Morty smiled at us. “Yes mrs Dawson.” We all said in chorus. She nodded at the captain and he guided us to our rooms as we passed through a few hangars.

Jack POV

“Nurses will be joining us.” Danny said as he joined us at the hangar. “Really?” Josh a new mechanic said as he looked up from his work. “Yes, they just arrived.” The mechanics started to whistle as they heard the new from Danny. “Calm down, they are just nurses.” Rafe said with a grin on his face, finding it amusing how the mechanics reacted to the news. “He’s right, they are here to do their job, so let’s focus on ours.” Tom our squad commander said as he was reading a book. “Of course…” they mumbled as they went back to their work.

The whole atmosphere between the mechanics was different than usual, It’s causing a bit of commotion between everyone. “Do you think we have a chance?” Josh asked As he was cleaning his work spot. “Honestly no, if they are looking for a man, they want those ground soldiers.” Danny said as he stood up, brushing off his pants. “Really? Not even the pilots?” Josh looked a bit disappointed at Danny, who just shook his head. “Josh, he’s joking around, of course we have a chance. Women like every man that is serving in the military at the moment.” Rafe said with an amusing smile on his face, as his best friend was joking around with the mechanics.

We all got send off early to our beds as we all needed those extra hours of sleep. “I heard it’s not going well for the French.” Danny quietly said as we were all lying in our bunk beds. “Do you think we are going there?” He popped his head up and leaned over the edge to look down at his friend Rafe, who was lying on his back, his arms crossed behind his head. “Maybe…” he answered, Danny nodded and laid back in his bed. “Why are you thinking about that?” I asked him. “Don’t know, I heard one of the mechanics talking about it this morning.” I hummed and rolled over to my left side, facing the wall. “We’ll see how it goes…”

Y/n POV

The girls were excited as we saw a few mechanics and pilots roaming around in one of the hangars. “They are all so handsome.” One said as we were getting ready to go to bed. “I know…” my best friend said. I smiled and crawled into the bed. “I can’t wait to start tomorrow.” We all giggled about it, gossiping about them and talking about our future. After some time we turned the light off and laid down in our own beds. “We should get some sleep, we all need to look good in the morning.” Someone said as a few hummed and agreed. I silently nodded and turned around, facing the wall. “We’ll see how it goes…”

We all woken up by a bell going off, it was Mrs Dawson. “Ladies, it’s time to get ready.” Some of us groaned, some of us stood up without saying a word. I slowly turned around and moved the blanket away. “Come on, get up.” Mrs Dawson said as a few were still lying in their beds. “You all have 10 minutes to get ready.” She disappeared from our shared room and we all began our morning routine.

“This is the work station for you ladies.” Caption Morty said as we walked into a room, looking like a small hospital. “Our men will stop by to get their medical check ups before leaving for their missions.” We all looked around the room. “Anymore questions? If not, Mrs Dawson has the schedules from all the groups that are in this facility and she also has the time schedules for the canteen. Ladies I wish you all the best.” He gave Mrs Dawson a nod and left us alone, she started to show us the schedules and rules for our new adventure here at the RAF military base.

Jack POV

Danny went for a walk and came back with a smile on his face. “What happened to you?” Rafe asked as Danny joined us at the table. “I saw them.” Tom sighed and continued to eat his breakfast. “Is that why you went for a walk?” Danny smiles and digs into his breakfast. “Danny come on…” Rafe said annoyingly. “I only passed by, they were with captain Morty.” I shook my head and Tom shot me a well knowing glare. “I think we should leave them be, they can’t have us spying on them as well. The mechanics are already losing their minds.” Rafe pointed at me, agreeing what I just said. “See, you need to stop Walker, we are here to fight for our country. Not for the ladies…” Danny nodded, knowing what we meant. “Yeah…you’re right.” Rafe gave him a gently pat on his shoulder. “It’s all good brother.”

[mercurygray]

Merc, what kind of Historical Military Man gets the wheels turning for you? What are the markers of 'Oh, that one, that one is now mine'?

Nat, I'm going to be honest, this question provoked something of an existential crisis. so I went back through, like, 20 years of fandom favorites to see if there's a pattern.

Spoiler: there isn't, apart from a perennial need to be different. This is kind of long .

2001 (ish) - Lord of the Rings is coming out, and you are either a Legolas or Aragorn girl. I am deep in my 'not like the other girls' phase and decide Boromir is actually the superior choice here. (This leads me to watch A LOT of period dramas that are probably not appropriate for for me at this age, including Clarissa and Lady Chatterley's Lover.) It also leads me to the Sharpe books, which are great and awesome. Richard Sharpe doesn't necessarily do anything for me as a character, but that gets me into Hornblower, which gets me into the Aubreyad, which leads me to read a lot about the Napoleonic Wars in high school. Cliff-diving into a different historical period is now something I do every single summer.

I also spend about 5 years (2008-2013) writing a 225,000 word fanfic in which Boromir doesn't die.

2010-2015

Matthew Crawley (Dan Stevens) is really only in the army a brief while but who can say no to the blue eyes and the absolute vibe he has going with Mary?

During the Downton phase I decide to raid the library for other period dramas, again, and watch The Forsyte Saga. Soames Forsyte is not a man you love, but Damian Lewis has A Face and I know he was on Band of Brothers, which the library perennially never has a copy of.

2011

I finally watch Band of Brothers in its entirety my senior year of college and am a little disappointed I appear to be missing large parts of the story. (Future rewatches will explain that this is actually a feature of the show, not a bug.) My recollections of this are hazy, but I'm fairly certain my favorite character the first time I watched this was Lewis Nixon (Ron Livingston). He's dark-haired, he's funny, he's an absolute mess with a trust fund. Dick Winters (Damian Lewis) also has one hell of a face. He's a red-head, he's in charge of everyone else, he doesn't say much, and he is tall. I know there must be fic for this show but am also very, very sure it is shippy in a direction I do not want to read, so I do not go looking for it.

TURN - 2014-2017

Ben Tallmadge (Seth Numrich) is the guy to watch on TURN: he's a lieutenant, he's tall, he struggles with rules, but the entire fandom is also crazy about him and the leading queen bee in the OC end of that fandom is a real pain about it, so I decide I will not be writing for him no matter what it costs me to hold off admitting I want to. However, in the next episode we meet his best friend, Caleb Brewster (Daniel Henshall) who is short, bearded, dark-haired and chaotic. The moment he comes onscreen I love him. Sadly, no one is reading fic for him and this project is abandoned.

In Season 3, we meet the Marquis de Lafayette. Historical Lafayette is a tall, awkward redhead in need of a father figure who makes up for war experience with boundless enthusiasm. His letters home are adorable. Show Lafayette (Ben Wiles) is tall and enthusiastic. I love him anyway and I make it everyone's problem for, like, a year.

2016-2017 - Mercy Street

Henry Hopkins (Luke Macfarlane) is a military chaplain in a hotel-turned Union hospital in Alexandria, Virginia. He's tall, he's a little tortured, and he has a knack for putting others first. Wrestling with some past choices, his romance with Emma Green, the privileged daughter of the family who owned the hotel, is sweet and full of pining. I write so much fix-it fic for them it's not even funny. (I love this show because the female characters I love come pre-installed. Please watch this.)

2016 - Dunkirk

I see this movie three times in theaters and love it more each time. Collins (Jack Lowden) is a blonde RAF flyboy with a very adorable face. (Tom Glynn Carney is also a face I like but he's on a backburner for a bit.) I write a lot of fic about it and affectionately refer to this as my first Planes Go Zoom phase.

2020

Two weeks into the pandemic I decide rewatching Band of Brothers is a good idea and buy the book and the DVD set from my local secondhand bookshop like I am doing a drug deal in a parking lot. Two weeks after that I am writing a fanfic for Dick Winters (Damian Lewis) because I am a loon who likes men in charge and painfully slow burns.

2021

Still in the middle of a pandemic I decide to watch The Pacific, because I make good decisions, apparently. Hoosier Smith (Jacob Pitts) is a taciturn, wise-cracking friend of Leckie's who is joked about as being the pretty one. He is. Andrew Haldane (Scott Gibson) is quiet, unassuming, and in charge, and played college football for Bowdoin. Very dad energy. Extremely charming. Dead in three episodes as history intended. Fix-it fic incoming.

2022 Top Gun Maverick comes out. Jake "Hangman" Seresin (played by Glen Powell, who I loved in Hidden Figures and The Guernsey Literary Potato Peel Pie Society) has a jawline you could cut something with and an attitude. My friends think I am mental. Second Planes Go Zoom phase coupled with Devotion, which comes out shortly after.

SAS Rogue Heroes comes out. I have been really looking forward to seeing Tom Glynn Carney in something else and he delivers. Mike Sadler is blond, extremely good at his job, not capable of suffering fools, and far too attractive for the desert.

2024

We do not even make it out of trailer season before I realize I still have a Thing (TM) for Callum Turner's face, which I have known since he was Theseus Scamander in Fantastic Beasts. Watching The Boys in the Boat before this all starts doesn't help - he has regrettably blond hair but thighs for days and shoulders you could hang the universe on. John "Bucky" Egan, is tall, dark-haired, incredibly generous spirited and nominally in charge. I want all of it. The rest of the fandom does too. I try to make peace with that and write anyway. Third Planes Go Zoom phase.

[lindseysgifhub]

JACK LOWDEN IN SLOW HORSES 2x01 GIF PACK

Click here or on source link to access seventy-one (71) gifs of Jack Lowden in Slow Horses Season 2 Episode 1. All gifs were made from scratch by me. You may use them for reactions, fanfics, roleplays, crack ships, icons, just give credit to me (#lindseysgifs). Thank you!:)

[youngfcs]

hiiii cib! do you by any chance have female and male faceclaims of age for a game of thrones fanfic? from around 20-30 years old

Hey there! Of course <3 I tried to choose options from other cultures too :)

F:

Adelaide Kane (24-32) [Reign, Once Upon a Time]

Caitlin Stasey (25-32) [Reign]

Dakota Fanning (20-28) [Effie]

Elle Fanning (17-24) [The Great]

Gaia Weiss (23-31) [Vikings, Hercules]

Isabelle Drummond (19-28) [Novo Mundo]

Jodie Turner-Smith (28-36) [Anne Boleyn]

Kylie Bunbury (25-33) [TUT]

Liu Yifei (27-35) [Mulan]

Marina Ruy Barbosa (18-27) [Deus Salve o Rei]

Naomi Scott (21-29) [Aladdin]

Sophie Skelton (18-28) [Outlander]

Thalissa Teixeira (20-27) [Anne Boleyn, The Musketeers]

Valentina Bellè (22-30) [Medici: Masters of Florence]

M:

Alex Høgh Andersen (20-28) [Vikinks]

Basil Eidenbenz (21-29) [The Witcher]

Calahan Skogman (22-29) [Shadow & Bone]

Daniel Sharman (28-36) [Medici: Masters of Florence]

Eysteinn Sigurdarson (22-30) [The Last Kingdom]

Ferdia Walsh-Peelo (16-23) [Vikings]

George MacKay (21-30) [Ophelia]

Henry Golding (27-35) [Persuasion]

Jack Lowden (24-32) [Mary, Queen of Scots]

Luke Pasqualino (23-32) [The Musketeers]

Malachi Kirby (24-33) [Roots]

Nicholas Hoult (25-33) [The Great]

Patrick Gibson (18-27) [The White Princess]

Regé-Jean Page (26-34) [Bridgerton, Dungeons & Dragons]

(cib)

[liliaenbaggins]

19, 21, 24

Thank you for asking! x

19: What does your URL mean?

Liliaen is the name of the OC I used in my LotR fanfics. Baggins because Frodo is my husband obvs.

21: Who is your celebrity crush?

How long do we have? Diego Luna, James McAvoy, Ewan McGregor, Jack Lowden, Elijah Wood. These are the ones I can think of right now lol.

24: Do you have a collection of anything?

I have a few different editions of the LotR books but probably not enough to constitute a collection.

lets get personal.

[lowdenfordays]

Aight chums, it’s been a wee while (I’m aware that that’s a slight understatement). I won’t make excuses as to why I haven’t written in so long, and I won’t tell you I’m back either - I haven’t a clue if/when I’ll write more. All I know is, after Jack’s post the other day, I was struck with inspiration. This is the result. Enjoy. 
Painter/Decorators 
You stood, staring down an empty hallway, and took a deep breath. You were finally there; after months of house-hunting you were finally in your new home. All the ups and downs — trying to find a place within your budget, on the right side of Edinburgh so that travelling to Jack’s parents’ place wasn’t too difficult, big enough to start a family but not so big that you would rattle around in it while Jack was away — all of it had finally paid off. You’d found a beautiful townhouse, three bedrooms, with gorgeous high ceilings and fireplaces. It was bright and airy and everything you’d dreamed of, even if it was a little more than you care to spend. But Jack’s career was going so well that the indulgence didn’t feel too bad — after all, if anything is worth splashing out on it’s a home. You stood with your hands on your hips, imaging the place with furniture, your pictures on the walls, lamps, houseplants… 
Two large hands snaked around your waist and pulled you in tight, and a slightly bearded chin came to rest on your shoulder. 
“Are ye gonna stare at an empty hall all day or do ye fancy helping me bring the gear in?” He softened the sarcasm in his question by nudging the collar of your oversized shirt out of the way with his nose and kissing the bare skin just below your neck. You spun to face him and he stood up straight, his arms draped lazily over your hips and clasping his hands together behind your back. You cupped his jaw softly and gazed into his blue eyes, noticing their mossy tinge against his green t-shirt.
“Might just stare at you all day…” you purred, a smile landing faintly on your lips. 
“Then we’ll never get anything done.”
You sighed, “No, I suppose not.” 
You kissed him tenderly, then allowed him to disconnect you from each other. You trudged out to the car, collecting cans of paint, paintbrushes, and rollers from the boot. 
Before long, old sheets were laid out on the floor, tape carefully covering the edges of the door frame, skirting board, and fireplace, and the slightly bluish green paint had been poured into trays. Your sleeves were rolled up and you had a bandana tied around your head to contain all those wispy stowaways, in full Rosie the Riveter mode. With paintbrush in hand and classic rock blasting from your little speaker, all that was left to do was start painting. Jack looked over to you, a grin stretched across his cheeks, dimples in full force.
“Ready?” 
This felt like the beginning of the next stage of your life. The first step towards making your new house a home. This townhouse was going hold so many memories with Jack; it felt as though the walls and floor were imbued with promise. Your dreams for the future were coming true. Visions of your future children chasing each other through the room raced through your mind, images of penciled marks on the doorframe charting their growth. A dog lying quietly in the corner, keeping one eye on the commotion. The smell of freshly baked bread wafting in from the kitchen. The jangle of keys in the door marking Jack’s return home from work in the evening, his beautiful children leaping into his arms the minute he walks through the threshold. That life that you had always wanted, that home, was finally in your grasp, and the fact that Jack was beside you, building it with you, made it all the sweeter. That first stroke of paint was the start of it all.
With a nod and a smile, you dipped your brush in the paint and began. 
Just as you finished painting around a plug socket, humming along to Fleetwood Mac, Jack walked in with two cups of tea and handed one to you. You mumbled a quick “ta” and took a grateful sip, letting the warmth trickle down your throat and into your soul. You hummed, “I needed this.”
“The hard work’s paying off though, it looks really good. Almost ready for a second coat.”
“I think we’ve earned a break before diving into round two.”
Jack chuckled and pulled you into his side, planting a kiss on your head before turning back to admire your joint handiwork. 
“We should have a big painting over the fireplace,” you mused. 
“Of what?” 
“A landscape, the highlands or something. The greenery will match the paint.” 
He hummed in approval, a deep vibration that resonated in your body. It was filled with comfort and warmth. If home was a sound, that was it. 
You slid your arm around his waist, only to find the crust of dried paint on this t-shirt. 
“You’ve splashed your shirt.”
He looked down, and picked at it, “Ah it’s fine, it’s the same colour anyway.” 
You sniggered, and pulled his face to yours, capturing him in an embrace. 
Hours, and much spilled paint later, the wall was a solid, pine green. Jack had picked up a takeaway and a bottle of wine. You sat, cross legged on the floor due to an evident lack of furniture, eating Chinese from the foil dishes and drinking wine from a mug like you had done in your student days, because they were all you had brought with you. 
“Ye know, this is our first dinner in the new place,” Jack said. 
“Yeah, I guess it is. Nothing like starting in style,” you grinned. 
“Cheers. To us, and the start of a beautiful life together.”
You clinked your mugs together with a grin, locking eyes as you both took as sip.
The early evening passed with easy chat, musing about the decor, plans for tomorrow (you were going to make a start on the kitchen), logistics of moving, and the like. But all the while the air was draped with the unspoken promise of what the future held for the two of you. You were excited and nervous and elated all at once. 
A comfortable silence settled over the room as you finished the food. Jack shifted, releasing a foot from beneath him and massaged it with a grimace.
“Pins and needles?” 
“Aye,” he nodded. 
You snickered and collected up the debris from your food. “I’ll clear up.” 
You wandered into the kitchen and did your best with the washing up, considering there was no washing up liquid and just a tatty old sponge. The plan was to move in properly in a week or so, once the bulk of the decorating was done, but for now you had to make do with the few bits you’d brought with you from the old flat. Once you’d disposed of the last remnants takeaway, you went back to find Jack, only to find the room empty. 
“Jack?” You called. 
“M’upstairs,” you heard him reply faintly. 
You found him in the doorway of the smallest bedroom, leaning against the doorframe. He was silhouetted against the dim evening light, his hair tousled and arms flecked with paint. Even with his back to you, he looked so inviting. You strolled over to him, allowing yourself to be drawn to him. You stroked his back gently, tracing your fingers over his shoulder blades and tangling them in the hair at the nape of his neck. He seemed quiet to you, lost in thought, contemplative. He would tell you what he was thinking when he was ready, so you contented yourself to wrap your arms around him from behind, and rest your cheek against his back. You breathed in the scent of him, musty with sweat and infused with paint fumes. 
After a while he muttered, “I think this room would make a good nursery.” 
You smiled as he turned towards you, gently tucking an escaped hair behind your ear. Your eyes met, and you saw the same hope for the future in him as had blossomed in you. Reaching up on your toes, you captured his lips in yours, wishing to express all the affection in the world in that embrace. All the love you shared would one day create a family, the prospect of which excited and delighted you. 
You settled into his arms, wrapped up in him, imaging the room with a crib and mobile. You giggled to yourself. 
“Maybe we should start with a dog.”

[daydreamgoddess14]

The Ties that Bind - Chapter 1

*Chapter 1 written ahead of season 4 launching, this has been in my head a while ago, so it's amazing to find a scattering of similarities! Though as this will become romantic, it's obviously completely separate from any existing and future storylines.*

River decides, finally, that David needs some help at home, so sets about employing someone to do just that without really thinking of the consequences.

River Cartwright / Original female character (Seren is named, but feel free to insert yourself should you wish).

Masterlist

Chapter 1

River was late, of course. He'd tried to get out earlier, but he'd had to break up a fight between Louisa and Shirley. A full-on argument that had nearly escalated into physical violence and all because they were both stupidly stubborn. They’d patched things up when Shirley slid a cup of coffee onto Louisa’s desk along with the last of the Jaffa Cakes. They’d mumbled apologies and were laughing like nothing had happened when he’d ducked out. He tried not to dwell on his own stubbornness as he drove. He was already dealing with his lateness, and that was enough for right now. There was a small beat-up car parked alongside his grandfather's when he arrived, and the owner was nowhere to be seen, which meant she must have ventured inside. That was far from ideal. He hadn't had much time to broach the delicate subject with his grandfather, but he already knew from past attempts that it wouldn't be well received. The doctor had made the suggestion this time, though, that had to count for something? David had, of course, scoffed at the idea, but then two days later nearly burned the kitchen down whilst cooking dinner. Again. River was at his limit. With work so unpredictable, he couldn't be there when David needed him, and something had to change. He’d been loath to admit it, but then the doctor had passed the number to him, and he figured it was worth a try.

*

She'd answered on the second ring, bright and breezy.

“Hi, hello?”

“Are you… are you the person offering in-home support?” He asked hurriedly, as if his grandfather would overhear him despite the distance between them.

“No, Poppy, not the icing just yet, sweetheart. Sorry, yes, that's me. I'm just with a family at the moment. It's my last day so we're making cakes.”

“Cakes? I didn't know that was part of what you do?”

“Well it depends on the family, really. I've been looking after Poppy's mum, while she recovers from an operation, so this time it's been school runs, helping with homework, general domestic work. My last family before this one I was looking after an elderly couple, cooking, cleaning, administering medicines. My duties are often different depending on the people. I used to just sit and read aloud to one lady.”

“Oh.” He said quietly.

“You're new to this?” She guessed. “That's OK, why don't you let me know your circumstances?”

*

And so here he was, about to be in trouble on all fronts. His grandfather would hate that he was hiring help, and the woman he hired was about to bear the brunt of David's temper and his rapidly deteriorating mind, so of course, she’d end up hating River for that. He braced himself for a frosty welcome. He opened the old oak door with a soft click, trying not to insert himself immediately into the argument which was… not occurring? He moved quietly through the downstairs of the house, following the sounds from the library.

“And now, my dear, you see I have you in check.” His grandfather said, River could hear the smile in his voice. “We also have company at last. Come on in, my boy.” Rumbled. He peered around the door to see a teapot and three cups laid out on the table with two in use, and his grandfather sat across from a woman with the chessboard between them. “This young lady is from the book club at the local library. She’s trying to get me to sign up!” A frown crossed River’s face.

“Well actually,” the woman began,

“Sounds great, grandad. And you're… teaching her to play chess?” River interrupted.

“Exactly that. It's a curious game of logic and passion, everyone should learn it.” David replied gleefully.

“If I could just have a word, Mr Cartwright?” The woman spoke up again.

“Yes?” Both Cartwright gentlemen answered before River took the lead,

“Yes, of course.”

“Always turned by a pretty girl,” David rolled his eyes.

“Thanks for that, Grandad,” he muttered. “I'll put some more tea on?”

“Good man.” David settled back at the table and reviewed the chess board. “Don't go far, young lady, there's still a lot to learn.” The woman followed River to the kitchen where he braced his hands on the countertop with his head down.

“I'm sorry about that. I'm sorry I'm late.”

“Nice to meet you. I'm Seren.” She offered her hand, and he shook it.

“Yes, yeah, sorry, that too - nice to meet you, please, call me River. He thinks you're from the library?”

“I did introduce myself, we started talking about books, so I think he must have mixed the conversation up a little. It's no harm, but we should let him know why I'm really here?”

“And we will, for sure, I just… he's… the Old Bastard isn’t going to be happy about this, so I need to do it in the right way. Names and faces are getting harder for him. I’ve lost count how many times he’s nearly burned this kitchen down. He sleeps with a gun by his bed for fucks sake. Sorry.” Seren stayed silent and he prayed to any deity he could think of that she wouldn’t walk out.

“It's best not to prolong the lie, it'll cause more confusion later on. If it helps, I have a lot of experience with this, I’m not scared of the outbursts and moments of confusion and I’ll be right here to remind him of that during his times of clarity.”

“I get that, I do,” he stopped, looking out at the garden. “I don't know how to do this.” He admitted sadly. Seren joined him at the window.

“No one does.” She said softly. “I recommend we start with keeping it very simple, very factual. Explain that you're worried and you think having someone close by will help put your mind at rest.” He nodded in agreement.

“Can't promise it'll go well?”

“I know you can't. Unfortunately, neither can I.” She reasoned. She let him lead the way back to the library where David was still plotting his next move.

“Grandad? I think there's been a mix up. I thought we could do with some help around the house, this is Seren. I’ve asked her to look in on you, maybe make a bit of dinner a few evenings a week.”

“A babysitter?” David’s previously amenable demeanour was gone in an instant.

“No, not… not a babysitter at all. Just some extra help, some company for you?” River held up his hands in surrender.

“Young lady, get out of my house,” David demanded sternly.

“Stay, please Seren.” River implored. The woman looked genuinely torn.

“Let me give you both some space,” she concluded, turning to River. “I’ll be in the kitchen.” He nodded gratefully, the relief that she wasn’t leaving the house entirely was clear to see.

“Grandad, please?” River pleaded once they were alone. The elder Cartwright ignored him, turning his attention to the chessboard again. “I’m worried about you. Fires in the kitchen? A gun by your bed?”

“They’re always watching, we must remain vigilant.” His grandfather said quietly. River dragged a hand down his face.

“No one is watching you.”

“How would you know? Over with the rejects, out of the loop and fussing over parking tickets and unpaid licence fees.” River felt the blow. He’d worked so hard, or as hard as was allowed at Slough House, to prove to David that he was still a capable Agent. Someone who did have a future with the service. His grandfather had never doubted the Stanstead stitch up, in fact it was more proof to him that they were trying hard to erase the Cartwright name, but there was still an unspoken assumption that River could have and should have done more. River felt the pressure of it every day in the offhand comments his grandfather made. And those were only getting more frequent with David’s declining mental capabilities.

“You’re right. I don’t know,” River was forced to admit. “But the thought of you here alone terrifies me and I need you to understand why I’m doing this.”

“I won’t pay her.”

“I will.”

“I won’t speak with her or engage with her while she’s here.”

“Fine, I’ll let her know.”

“I don’t like this, River.”

“I know you don’t. But it’s happening. I’m sorry, but… I can’t take no for an answer on this. I’m giving her a key to come and go as she needs to. Speak to her or don’t, she’ll make sure you have food, she’ll collect your medications, she’ll be here whether you agree or not.”

“I think it’s time you left, don’t you?” David concluded, completing the chess game he’d ultimately ended up playing with himself. River placed a hand on the old man’s shoulder and gave a light squeeze.

“I’ll be back in a few days,” he promised. He found Seren in the kitchen, as promised, her head deep in the fridge. She pulled out a few items and threw them into the open bin she’d pulled closer.

“Something stinks in here. I’m just getting rid of anything out of date and I’ll refill it tomorrow.” She told him, grimacing at the smell from the salad drawer. From a quick glance, he could see that the teapot and cups had been washed, the table was clear of clutter and crumbs and the grimey window had been pushed open to let in the last of the day’s sun. He released a long sigh he hadn’t realised he’d been holding in.

“Thank you,” he began, not really knowing what to say. She’d done more in the ten minutes she’d been left alone than David had managed for the last six months or more. He took a key from his pocket, along with his wallet, and started counting out a few twenty pound notes. She closed the fridge and turned back to face him.

“The seal is gone on the fridge door. I’ll get a new one and fit it in the next few days.” She scribbled on a notepad he hadn’t spotted on the table, the makings of a to do list. He could already see clean windows and food shop on the list. He took out another twenty quid.

“This is all the cash I have on me right now,” he explained, holding it out. She took the notes from him, kept twenty and passed the rest back to him.

“This covers the shopping. We’ll work out the rest later.”

“He won’t give you a penny-”

“I know, and that’s fine. I can handle this.”

“He’s going to be mad at you when he’s with it enough to know what’s going on, and he’s going to be mad at you when he hasn’t got a clue who you are or what’s going on.”

“So he’s going to be mad at me. I’ll get over it.” She assured him. He stared at the woman in front of him, a smear of dust on her forehead and her hands on her hips. His grandfather’s comments rang in his ear; always turned by a pretty girl. River sighed.

“Are you sure?”

“Let me do my job, Mr Cartwright.” She told him, taking up her notepad and the key. “I’ll be over in the morning with some shopping, I’ll batch cook some meals and start some household stuff. I’ll keep out of his way unless he needs me for something.” And then she was gone, only the scent of her perfume remaining.

*

It became a ridiculous dance. More often than not, River would arrive in the early evening a couple of times a week to find Seren in one room and David in another. He would go between the two trying to determine whether it had been a good day, a bad day or just a day. By the end of the first week, River was convinced Seren hated him for dragging her into his mess. David wasn't speaking to either of them unless it was to shout at them (separately of course). Eventually River was somewhat forgiven enough that David would at least speak to him but he knew that the same could not be said for Seren. River found himself half dreading and half looking forward to his visits. His grandfather essentially ignored Seren which made for an unwelcoming atmosphere but she'd quickly become the highlight of his day.

“Is that for me?” She asked one month into the role. She'd been standing on a windowsill when he arrived, cleaning what she declared to be the final window. He'd set about making dinner and trying to convince David to at least be cordial. She came down a short time later, gathering up her book, phone, notepad and anything else she intended to take with her to find that River had three meals plated up.

“If you'd like to stay? Thought it might be nice?”

“Nice?” She looked behind her to check that David wasn't in earshot, “River, I have spent a month being ignored when he's lucid and shouted and screamed at when he's not. I've cooked, cleaned and fixed things. In that time he has not spoken a single nice word to me, and that's absolutely fine, that's his choice. But I'm sorry, I don't intend to stay a little longer because you've cooked.” He looked aghast.

“I'm sorry. It was selfish to think that you might want to stay.”

“No, it's… it's not selfish. It was thoughtful of you, thank you. I just can't stick around. I'm not wanted here, that's been made clear. I just want to do my job and go home and drown in the bath.” Images which would likely earn him a black eye filled River's mind.

“Leave the girl alone River, let her go home.” David said entering the kitchen. Seren took a big step back, River hadn’t realised how closely they'd been standing.

“Goodnight.” She mumbled and headed out the back door.

*

Seren rested her head against the steering wheel of her car. For six long weeks she’d been David Cartwright’s metaphorical punching bag. Unwilling to tolerate her presence when he was lucid, he was angry and rude, and then in moments when his memories and mind were not his own, the outbursts were worse. She wasn’t sure which of his personalities she preferred, neither were remotely nice to her. She’d transformed the house, fixed multiple broken household items - the fridge, the floorboard she kept tripping on in the hallway, the plug socket she’d been horrified to see sparks coming out of when she used it. Fortunately it had been a socket David hadn’t bothered using, if he had, she was fairly sure the house would have burned to the ground long ago. The fridge was stocked with easy to heat up meals and snacks, and every single surface and window had been cleaned. Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she roused herself to retrieve it. River’s name displayed on the caller I.D.

“Hey, how did it go today?” He asked as soon as she answered. She sighed heavily,

“Yeah, fine. Same as usual.”

“Are you sure? Are you ok?”

“I’m sure.” She said firmly. They fell into silence.

“You’re lying, aren’t you?” He asked. She stayed silent and swallowed thickly, her shaky breath giving away the tears that rolled down her cheeks. “Seren, I don’t… is there anything else I can do?” He begged.

“No. We’ll get there, it’s just taking some time. I’m fine, really.” She brushed the tears away, angry with herself for letting the situation get to her, angry with the Cartwright’s for being so stubborn.

“I’ll be there tomorrow.” He promised. She hung up without saying goodbye.

*

The next morning she let herself into the house as usual. She called out and made her way to the sitting room to offer a cup of tea, as she had every morning and as he’d ignored every morning. David met her in the hallway, a pistol in his hand pointing directly at her. Her hands went up immediately and she searched his face for whether or not he recognised her.

“Who the hell are you? What are you doing in my house?” He demanded.

“David, it’s Seren, I’ve been helping out for a few weeks? Cooking, making sure you’re taking your medication and stuff like that?” She spoke softly and tried desperately to keep the tremor from her voice and tried to bring down the tension.

“I don’t know you. I don’t want you here.”

“I know, I know. Believe me, that’s an ongoing battle for another time. Can we put the gun down, David, please?” She pleaded. She knew that he was still physically fairly healthy, strong enough to slam doors in her face and throw the odd mug of tea across the room when he so wished. He was at least as tall as River which meant he towered over her by nearly a whole foot. The gun shook in his hand and she began to fear that rather than pull the trigger on purpose, he would do it by accident. She backed up slowly, towards the foot of the stairs and as soon as she had space between them, she ran for the only room she knew had a lock on the door. Age on her side, she slammed the bathroom door as he reached the top step. She pushed the lock into place and dropped down away from the door, crawling under the sink. Her phone was still in the back pocket of her jeans so she dragged it out and dialled the number that had last called her.

“River, he's just pulled a gun on me. I thought you were making shit up before but he has a fucking gun!”

“Shit, shit. Is he… himself?”

“No, he has no idea who I am.” The bathroom door rocked on its hinges as David banged on it, causing Seren to scream down the phone.

“I’m on my way.”

“I need to call the police.”

“No, please, please don’t do that. I’ll be there in an hour. Less than. Stay down, keep the door locked.” He begged and hung up before she could argue. The door stopped shaking. She waited quietly,

“Get out of there before I shoot through the lock!” He bellowed, banging the door again. Seren flinched, hugging her knees. She knew full well it would take longer than an hour unless he broke every single speed limit on the way. Seren was eyeing up the window and trying to work out if she could manage the jump without breaking anything when the door banged again.

“Shit!” David called out, clearly in pain.

“David? Are you ok? What happened?” She asked as gently as she could, crawling back towards the door. She knelt in front of it and listened for movement on the other side. There was nothing but silence. “Shit, shit, shit.” She cursed, there was no decision to make, she knew what she needed to do but still dreaded it. She reached up to slide back the lock and opened the door a crack. David sat in the hallway, leaning against the wall with a bloodied hand in his lap. He looked up at the daylight spilling into the space and saw the tears on her face and the fear in her eyes. “What happened David?” She whispered.

“Oh. Oh my dear girl, I’m not sure,” he sounded confused and scared, no longer imprisoned by his mind, he recognised her. “Seren, I’m not sure what happened.” He admitted. She fell to her knees in relief at hearing him use her name. She moved close to sit by him and gently reached for his hand. A small cut ran from the side of his little finger down towards his palm, nothing serious but with all the banging and commotion it had bled probably a little more than a normal hand injury. He suddenly felt so frail to her and it was heartbreaking.

“It’s ok, I’m here now. I’ll help you get that sorted.” She said softly, carefully and kindly taking his hand.

*

When River appeared 57 minutes later, he had not expected to see Seren and his grandfather enjoying tea and lemon cake in the kitchen. Since the day he'd introduced them he hadn’t once seen them in the same room.

“River, what are you doing here? Should you not be at work?” David asked. River’s eyebrows landed somewhere in his hairline and it took a look at Seren and the barely visible shake of her head for him to recover. He noted the bandage on David's hand.

“Had some time to spare, thought I'd drop in.”

“Never missing out on cake, I see. Seren brought this from the bakery.”

“We can have a walk there tomorrow, if you like? Get something nice for lunch?”

“Now that does sound an excellent idea.” David smiled.

“D'you hurt your hand?” River asked.

“Aye, caught it on a loose hook by the bathroom door. Gave Seren quite a scare when she came out of there.” He explained.

“I'll bet.” River took his time sitting down, using the time to appraise Seren and the scene before him. He could see she'd been crying. She offered a small nod, acknowledgement that she was OK, but the sigh indicated that there was definitely a conversation to be had.

“Why don't I take the tea to the sitting room? You can catch up while I finish cleaning up upstairs. Go ahead Mr C, make yourself comfortable.” She helped him up from the table, he was clearly exhausted by his exertion of the morning. She piled up a tray which River returned for once his grandfather was settled.

“Well?” He asked impatiently.

“Well River, your lovely Pops pulled a gun on me at the front door and ordered me out of the house. I managed to hide in the bathroom where I called you and you begged me not to call the police. I think he scared himself when he cut his hand. It brought him back from,” her hand waved in the air above her head, “wherever. I think he scared himself enough to realise that I might actually be here to help.”

“And the gun?” She passed by him in the narrow space between the table and the counter and opened the freezer, pulling out the handgun.

“Didn’t know where else to put it that neither of us would use it.” She shrugged. “Anything like that happens again, and I'm gone, got it?” River nodded, suddenly grateful that he hadn't come across a crime scene. Even more grateful that Seren hadn't walked out and left them.

CH 2

[takemedancingmaine]

25

My alarm goes off and I feel as if I’m waking up from death. I don’t know why I feel so tired. Which causes very different alarms to go off in my own head, but I push them aside just like I push aside my comforter and force myself out of bed.

I've got a date tonight.

With that thought, butterflies escape and I quickly move about, picking out a suitable outfit.

It doesn't take long. I'm quite low maintenance. Just a pair of dark wash skinnies, and a sparkly black blouse. I set the outfit out on the bed and it's when I turn that I see it.

I see a note sitting on top of my desk. When I get close enough, I see that it’s a printout from an article called 24 Diagrams to Help You Have Better Sex.

I want to strangle my flatmate. I crumble the pages and throw them in the bin by my desk. When I head toward my door to get into the bathroom to shower I see another note taped to it: it’s another article. The Best Songs to Have Sex To. I pull down the article and crumple it up before placing it in the bin as well.

I open my door and Piper is nowhere to be seen. Meaning she’s in her room hiding because she knows I’ll kill her. As I very well should.

Stepping into the bathroom it only gets worse. Taped to the mirror is an article I don’t even feel comfortable reading the title to. And when I open the shower curtain to turn the water on there’s another. Just the headline for it makes me blush violently and I take both articles and run them under the water before throwing the wet filth into the bin beside the toilet.

I bang against the wall connecting the bathroom and Piper’s room.

“When I get out I’m going to murder you,” I yell. “Best get your affairs in order now, before it’s too late!” The laughter I hear in response to my threat only reinforces the urge to maim.

I roll my shoulders back and step under the stream of water, steam already filling the small room around me, not relaxing my mind, but relaxing my body, at least.

I try to push the nerves from my head as I comb my hair and braid it into two French braids--once they dry a bit I'll pull them out. Then I set about doing my makeup. Nothing extravagant, but I do put a little extra effort in, meaning my eyebrows are actually even for once and my eyeshadow doesn't look like a child used a crayon and scribbled it over my eyelids.

Wrapped in my fluffy robe I head to my room, but before I get there I catch Piper filling the kettle in the kitchen. She freezes at the sight of me and I glare.

“Have you written your will, yet?” I ask.

Unapologetically, she laughs. “I thought they were funny! And helpful! Did you even read them? I chose only the best, most informative articles for my best mate.”

I close my eyes and take a breath before looking back over at her.

“You’re an actual menace,” I groan. “And you're just weird.”

“I am weird, I will grant you that,” she nods and takes out a second mug for me to have some tea. “However, menace seems a little harsh.”

I just glare.

Piper holds up her hands in surrender before smiling. “I mean, who else would you trust to tell you truthfully that your makeup is on point tonight and that the outfit you picked out is hella cute for a date such as this?”

I don't say anything. I continue to glare. Of course, she would sneak into my room to check the outfit. That's just my best friend for you.

“I love you but sometimes I just really want to punch you so hard in the face,” I fight the urge to grind my teeth and instead just settle for clenching my jaw.

“I’m just having a spot of fun,” she smiles. “Yes, you’ve been on dates and yeah, I know you pulled quite a bit in uni, but this is different. I just want to milk it for all it’s worth,” she shrugs. “You’re so nervous and excited and it’s making me so happy. I do stupid things when you’re happy. I like to keep you happy.”

“This doesn’t keep me happy,” I hate that my frosty exterior is slipping.

“It will later on,” she winks and my anger returns a bit. I turn to my room. “I’m kidding, we’ll laugh about this years from now. Hopefully sooner than that.”

“You’re a twat,” I call.

“I'll have a brew ready for you when you're done,” she calls sweetly. I just flick her off and slam my door behind myself.

I glance at my phone to check the time. It's six fifteen now. It takes twenty minutes to get to his flat. Giving myself five minutes extra just in case, I realize I've got twenty minutes before I have to be out the door. My stomach feels like it's going to revolt. I can do this. I think.

I slip my jeans on and pull my top over my head before I put on my dainty, silver bee necklace and put on some perfume. And then I remember I hadn't thought about shoes. I begin to dig through my closet with worry. Chelsea boots? Maybe. Converse? No. Heels? Oh, no.

The worry over such a small detail is beginning to creep in and hold me in a vice grip, despite my willing it not to. Just when I feel myself sinking into a panic, the worry settling into my stomach as if it was invited to a party, I spot my loafers sticking out from the back of my closet. They're perfect. And my tense muscles only slightly relax as I slide them on.

I stick my phone in my back pocket and head to the kitchen where Piper is sitting on the countertop, a brew in her hand and a brew beside her, waiting for me.

I'm still cross with her, but the brew calms me the second the mug is in my hand, and the familiar taste grounds me. I can do this, I tell myself.

“You look fucking great,” Piper tells me as I down half my brew in two gulps.

I look down at myself and nod. “Thanks.” My voice is quiet, and not even I believe it.

“M’serious,” she nudges me a bit. “You're beautiful, love.”

I nod again and chug a bit more tea. Looking up I notice the time. “I've gotta go,” I manage to squeak out. I place the mug down and move toward the door where I pull my coat on and button it up.

“Check the food for drugs,” Piper calls out as I grab my wallet and keys from the peg they're on. “Make good choices!” She shouts as I close the door behind myself.

I want to kill her, but she's the best friend I've got. And I would miss her. Plus, I don’t think I’m cut out for jail. Let’s face it,  I’d inevitably get caught. I’m clever, but not that clever. I’ve watched those Netflix shows about making a murderer and I’m not even close to cut out for that lifestyle.

The tube ride goes by quickly, but the whole way I have to force myself to take deep breaths and repeat a little mindfulness mantra I’d learned in therapy years ago. I never used it in practice, but my nerves are clutching at straws, so here I am, pulling out techniques I learned what seems like a lifetime ago.

“Air above me, earth below me, fire within me, water surround me,” I whisper over and over to myself the on the carriage, and even while I ride the escalators. It feels stupid that I’m relying on a phrase. I’ve never done it before, but oddly, despite my embarrassment, it’s helping in some small way.

When I step back onto the street only two blocks away from Jack’s flat I pull my slightly damp hair from the braids and run my fingers through the tresses so that they're wavy but not kinky.

It's when I'm one block away that my breath feels harder to come by and in my head, I repeat the mantra.

It's when I'm two buildings down that I feel like I've developed an ulcer. The mantra has ceased helping.

It's in his front step that I begin to argue with myself. I stand there for what has to be five minutes just debating the pros and cons of ringing his buzzer before I remember the feeling of his arm around me just their morning, the feeling is his lips against my cheek, the inexplicable draw I feel toward him.

I ring the buzzer.

“‘lo?”

“It's me,” I cringe. “It's Wren,” I amend.

“I'm on the third floor. Come right up,” he tells me and then the buzz goes off telling me the front door is unlocked. I push past the nerves and step inside the little entryway.

It's not confidence I'm feeling a surge of. Rather, it's just this feeling that this is right because it's what I want that courses through me and pushes me up the flights of stairs.

When I step up off the last stair and make my way toward his door though, my feet falter for just a brief second.

I feel like nauseous. I feel like I'm hot and sweaty and cold at the same time. I feel like I'm breathing too heavily and like I can't get any oxygen. I feel like I'm going to pass out.

I reach forward and knock on his front door anyway.

26

In the few seconds between when I knock and when the door opens, revealing Jack on the other side I actually am worried I’ll pass out. Then I see that smirk of his and think I might pass out for entirely different reasons.

His dimples are flashing, but what I notice first is that he’s done his hair up. It looks perfectly fluffy and disarrayed and I’m tempted to run my fingers through it. I don’t, but I’m tempted. My chest feels heavy as I recognize in my brain that he’s put an effort in for me.

I quickly take in the rest of him. He looks quite fit. He’s in his black jeans--how many pairs of black jeans does this man own?--and a striped jumper, the sleeves of which are pushed up to his elbows. It looks really good, the jumper. An image flashes in my mind of me picking that jumper up off the floor one morning, popping it over myself, and making tea for both of us. I fight a blush, but not because I’m nervous.

He gestures for me to step inside and I start unbuttoning my coat as I step past him into the flat. Books are scattered everywhere, which is no surprise. What is though, is how light the space is, how open and inviting it is. What continues my surprise is how tastefully decorated it is. The throw pillows on the couch are patterned, mismatching the throw blanket that’s strewn across the back of the chair, but working together. The light carpet on top of the dark hardwood flooring is patterned with diamonds.

What ties the whole space together is the art on the walls. There are a few smaller paintings framed throughout the room, one is an antique looking world map, another looks like an album cover of Bruce Springsteen’s that’s been framed, but those aren’t what draws my eye the most. There’s a giant framed scene that takes up the majority of the wall space behind the couch.

I step closer, my shins almost hitting the couch as I lean in to look at the detail. It’s incredible.

“Is this-”

“Scotland,” he nods from beside me, where he’d stepped up to without my noticing until now.

“It’s beautiful,” my eyes drag across each inch of the painting.

“I’ll tell my mum you think so,” he smiles. My head whips to face him so quickly I’m almost worried I smacked him with my hair, but his amused look tells me not to fret. He’s enjoying this.

“Your mum?” My eyes widen as they take him in.

He nods. “She likes to paint. It’s a hobby she picked up when she retired a few years ago.” He points toward the painting, nodding his head toward it as well, “That was done from a photograph I took while we were on a trip to Glen Coe.”

I glance back at the painting, “It’s stunning,” I tell him.

I can feel his eyes on me, my skin electric under his gaze when he responds. “It is.”

I shiver and face him again, his blue gaze still intent on me, his lips pulling up a bit into a smirk and I feel the air leave my lungs, my mouth going dry.

He takes a step back and ushers me toward his kitchen with a flourish of his arms that has me grinning.

Just like the rest of the flat, the kitchen is bright and overflowing with books--cookbooks this time. It's small, it's a little galley kitchen that's got a slanted roof. It's really cute though, with the fun tile flooring and the small framed poster that reads don't be afraid to take whisks. So he's a fan of puns, then. I'm entirely okay with that.

I’m hit with a wall of aroma: tomato sauce.

“Now, you said anything,” he flashes a look at me--is he nervous?--before he goes over and stirs the mixture on the stove top. “It’s nothing too special,” he says, “it’s just a fancy, spicy pasta sauce with noodles.”

I don��t know what makes me do it, but as I walk up beside him, I place my arm around his waist and lean into him a bit. I feel him stiffen before he relaxes again, his breath steady as he looks down at me, an amused look on his face.

“Sounds perfect,” I tell him, my blush creeping into my cheeks.

“It’s got to simmer for a little bit longer,” he tells me, wrapping his own arm around my shoulder, pulling me even closer to his side.

“What are we going to do until then?” I look up at him.

His eyes are glinting with mischief and I'm not sure whether I'm excited or worried.

“I've got an idea in mind,” He guides me back toward his living room and where he untangles himself from me and goes over to a shelf.

“Scrabble?” I ask with my eyes lighting up, the excitement lacing my tone.

“I have to warn you,” he sets the box down on the coffee table before taking a seat on the floor. I follow, sitting down adjacent to him on the plush carpet.

“Mmm?” I hum, looking up from watching him set the game out and meet his face.

“I'm quite good at this game.”

“That makes two of us,” I smirk as we start divvying up tiles.

“I cannae believe you just got 26 points for the word bum,” Jack shakes his head at me as he writes down my new score.

“You just got a triple word score of 48 for the word dazed,” I point out, slightly competitive at the moment.

I'm a bit flustered. I've never played someone who's put a tile down between three words and had it work. I've done it but never has someone I've played. Jack was not kidding when he said he was good.

He laughs. “Fair,” he nods and places down his next set of letters, tallying his score on the sheet.

“How are you so good at this?” I ask, trying not to let any of my frustration out. “Even Liam is trash at Scrabble. And he went to more schooling than I did.”

“The art of reading was not lost on me,” he gestures toward his books, his lips upturned into a smirk. I roll my eyes.

“You know you're only winning because you didn't want to count défendra,” I nudge his leg with my foot and he gives me a look, a hard look, but his eyes are bright and full of laughter.

“You can't switch languages in the middle of the game,” he tells me. “We either play in English or we play in French, but not both.”

“You're such a stickler,” I nudge him again and he narrows his eyes, placing his hand on my calf and holding me back from doing more taunting.

“Or you're just a cheater,” he squeezes my leg and makes another serious face, but I see his lips twitching from the smile he's trying to hold back.

I roll my eyes and set down a new word mumbling about how he's no fun. He squeezes my leg again for that one and I bite my lip at the electric shock that goes through me. My blush rises in my cheeks.

As Jack writes down my new score an alarm goes off in the kitchen. Quickly, he hops up to full height.

“I know what the board looks like,” he calls over his shoulder as he steps into the kitchen. “And don't even think about switching out any of your tiles, cheater!”

“I don't cheat,” my laughter spills out from my mouth as I stand to follow him.

“I beg to differ,” he gives me an amused look before checking on the pasta. It must be ready because he turns the burners off and pours the noodles into the strainer.

“Anything I can do to help?” I ask while watching him fuss about.

He shakes his head. “Not much left, really,” he says. “There’s wine and beer in the fridge, though. Take whatever you’d like to drink.”

I know it’s supposed to go well with pasta, but I’ve never in my life been a fan of wine, so I grab a bottle of Stella instead. When he sees my choice, Jack laughs and shakes his head. “Would you mind grabbing the pinot for me?” he asks.

I grab the bottle of wine and raise my eyebrows at him as I look back up. “What?” he asks and I just continue to stare, the amused expression on my face. “I’m cultured,” he defends himself. “I’m Scottish, but I’m not barbarian.”

I laugh at that, my face flushing red while I open the bottle and he hands me a wine glass and a bottle opener for my Stella.

“So you must think that I’m a barbarian then,” I sip my beer before moving to pour his glass of wine. The scent enough to make me scrunch my nose. My tone may have been a little short, but my face shows my barely held back laughter as he fills two bowls with food. He looks up with worry, but it slides off his face when his eyes meet mine.

“I mean, you kind of are,” he shrugs, his lips upturned as he nods toward the table. I follow him, placing down his glass after he puts our bowls down and suddenly I realize that I haven’t eaten much today. I had porridge after my run and I’d split a bag of popcorn with Liam earlier, but when I got home I’d just gone straight to my bed. Another alarm bell dings in the back of my consciousness and just like the ones before I ignore it.

“I hope you like it,” he’s nervous. I can see it in his shoulders as he leans forward over his own food, taking a bite.

It’s fantastic. When I tell him this I’m rewarded with his blush. For once, it’s not me my cheeks that are tinged red and the sight is perfect.

27

“Thanks for coming,” Liam is waiting for me at the front door. I hadn’t even gotten a chance to reach for the keypad when the door had opened for me and illuminated his distraught face under the front light.

“What happened?” I ask as he ushers me inside and begins to lead me up the stairs.

“He just started screaming after dinner and I thought I got him to calm down for a bit. I gave him his bath and he was alright until I tried to put him to bed,” Liam runs his hand through his hair and I see just how sunken in his eyes are in his face. My heartstrings are pulled tight at the sight.  

“What set him off?” I ask gently as we stop outside of Charlie’s bedroom where I can hear his sobbing.

“One guess,” Liam shakes his head and his voice breaks and I let my breath out in a whoosh at the sound. There’s so much I wish I could do for my brother and put his family back together is the top of the list.

Quickly, I pull him into me and wrap my arms around his shoulders, leaning my head against his chest as I try and use my strength to hold him together as much as I can.

“Right,” I nod and stepping away I wipe my own tears away before they can fall. “D’you want to come in or would you rather go get a warm shower and calm yourself down?”

“D’you mind?” he asks, hiding his face from me as he looks down at the floor.

D’you mind? He’d asked me that before when he called and asked if I could help him with Charlie who was having a full-blown strop and wouldn’t listen to him. I hadn’t hesitated then, and I’m not hesitating now.

“Go,” I nod toward his room and the moment the word slips past my lips he’s gone off toward his room, the door shutting behind him.

Taking a deep breath I close my eyes for a moment to regain myself and then push through to Charlie’s room. His night light beside his bed illuminating his tiny form as he unabashedly sobs into his pillow.

He’d asked for his mum a few times late at night, and of course, he cried when she was first gone, but this is something else. He’d never pitched a fit with Liam about it. He’d never cried like this.

I step up to his bed and kneel down on the floor. “Charlie,” I call him gently, not wanting to startle him. This is new territory for all three of us.

“I miss her,” he sobs not lifting his head up from the pillow. I reach up and try to take the pillow from him.

“Charlie,” I rub his back with my other hand. “Love, I need you to look at me okay?” He shakes his head and grips tighter to the pillow. “Charlie, you’re going to make yourself sick. Please look at me.”

His cries don’t stop, but his grip on the pillow slackens enough from me to pull it away and lift his chin up. He’s beginning to hiccup through his sobs and through my sadness the worry about his well-being slips into the front of my mind.

My nephew is my godchild. Liam doesn’t really care for religion, but the legality of appointing me as such was something he was all for. He trusts me with his son should something happen to him, and I think of that as I slip my arms around him and lift him up, with me as I stand.

“C’mon, love,” I hold him tightly to my chest as I carry us to the bathroom, flicking on the light with my elbow, the brightness blinding both of us momentarily.

“I just want mummy,” he cries as I settle him down on the countertop. He covers his face with his hands as I start the faucet until the water runs warm and then I run a washcloth under it. “Daddy doesn’t get it. He doesn’t understand and I hate him.”

I studied literature and journalism and I know a lot of words. Still, I don’t know how to correctly describe just how cold my blood turns when I hear those words slip past Charlie’s lips. If only this little boy could understand just how much his dad cares for him, just how broken he is himself.

I think of Liam alone in his bedroom right now, sobbing into the stream coming from the shower head. Washing the pain of the evening away until it becomes the dull ache he’s managed to live with for six months now.

Instead of taking business meetings during lunch, or actually eating lunch, my brother picks his son up from school every day and manages to feed him and get him down for a nap before rushing off to work again. Charlie may not see the love in his eyes or understand it, but my big stupid brother would do anything for his little boy. Sometimes he loses his way, I’ll admit, but it’s not on purpose, and that counts for something.

“I miss her so much, Aunt Wren,” he grips my blouse and tries to pull me to him. “I miss my mummy. I just want her back.”

I manage my breath, forcing it in and out in steady succession,  and I squeeze the excess water from the washcloth before I tilt Charlie’s face up to mine.

“Charlie…” I coo as I begin to blot his face. “Charlie, love. I’m so sorry,” I tell him as I wipe his hair back and rinse his forehead. “Love, I need you to stop crying. Can you do that for me? Can you stop crying before you make yourself sick?”

He sputters but tries to hold his breath to stop his sobs. I let out a laugh, maybe a bit of a sob, at the sight. “Good lad,” I nod and he keeps trying to hold himself together. “That’s it,” I nod and rub his shoulder with my free hand as the other runs the washcloth under the faucet again.

“It’s not the same without her,” he tells me, his voice hoarse and his eyes red and puffy. He holds his breath again and I give him a teary-eyed smile for his attempts.

“I know it’s not, love,” I squeeze out the washcloth and pick Charlie up. “I know it’s not,” I whisper as I  carry him back to his bedroom. He clings to me, desperate, as I place him down gently under his covers and slip in beside him.

I blot his face again and bring his stuffed turtle closer to us and immediately he cradles the animal to his chest as he struggles to calm himself down, the hiccuping is slowing down though which is a good sign.

I place the washcloth on the night table and pull Charlie close to my side. It’s then that I realize I’m still wearing my coat.

“Want to tell me what happened?” I ask him gently.

“Daddy and I were doing the dishes after dinner and that song that mummy used to sing along to came on,” he sniffles again but I start rubbing his back in circles to keep him calm. The song was Linger by the Cranberries. April loved Delores’ voice and would try to imitate it whenever the song came on. She’d try to even when the song wasn’t on. It was played at Liam and April’s wedding. My chest tightens again at the thought.

“What happened then, Charlie?” I’m so afraid to set him off again. He’s responding to me, which is better than he’d done for Liam. From what I’d gathered on the phone, Charlie had stuck his fingers in his ears and screamed at Liam only stopping once Liam left him alone in his room.

“I asked daddy to change it because it hurt too much, but he said he liked it and he left it on and then I got really angry,” he says. There’s a long pause before he adds, “I said some mean things.”

I nod. “You did,” I tell him.

“I just got so angry,” he starts to work himself up again and then I remember.

“Charlie,” I reach into my pocket. “If you promise to apologize to your daddy for yelling at him, I can give you a chocolate biscuit.”

“What?” he asks.

I pull out the four biscuits, wrapped in a napkin, and show my nephew, whose eyes light up.

“I’m not allowed sweets in my bedroom,” Charlie says, but he’s reaching out for a biscuit anyway. “And I don’t want to apologize to daddy. He was wrong.” I pull my hand and the biscuits back away from him with a sigh.

“Are you going to listen to me properly now, bug?” I ask.

He nods, his forehead crinkled as he looks up at me.

“We all remember people in different ways after they leave us,” I implore. “Your daddy wanted to listen to the song because it reminded him of all the good that your mummy brought to you and to him.” Their faces at their wedding as they danced together to the song flashes in my mind. “He wanted to hold on to that feeling that she was there, and that’s his way,” I hand him half of a biscuit. “You may not be ready yet, to listen to the song, to remember her like he is, in his way. You have your own way, but you shouldn’t get mad at him. He’s sad too,” I whisper that last part.

“I don’t understand…” Charlie whispers back, his hand latching onto the biscuit, but he’s not yet eating it. Instead, his eyes are still focused on me.

“Your daddy is trying to hold onto your mummy by keeping things she loved close to him,” I continue in my whisper. “He still listens to the music she loved, and still uses the same shampoo she’d buy. He even still buys the very expensive milk because it was the brand your mummy liked best,” I ruffle his hair a bit. Liam used to grumble to me about how much money he could save if April wasn’t lactose intolerant. I haven’t said anything, but he still buys the lactose-free milk. Whether it’s habit or deliberate, he still does it.

“He may not talk about her, and he may try to hide it from you, but he still holds onto her. Still misses her just as much as you. It’s just different to how you miss her.”

“Is he really upset with me?” Charlie asks, his tone worried. He does love his daddy. He doesn’t hate him. My heart is stuck in a constant ache.

“Your daddy isn’t upset with you,” I shake my head. “He’s upset that you’re upset, and he’s worried you don’t like him, but he’s absolutely not upset with you.”

“I should go apologize,” Charlie makes to climb over me and I hold him back, thinking of Liam, who’s probably still broken down in the other room.

“I think daddy’s sleeping,” I lie. I know he’s not. I know he’s going to be lying in bed in agony. If he’s not still in the shower. I know because it’s how I deal with things. Liam may not have depression like me, but we deal with our sadness the same way. “How about,” I propose, “we just eat our biscuits now and we can apologize to your daddy in the morning when everyone’s all calmed down?”

He nods gently, shoving the half he has hold of into his mouth. “These are really yummy,” he says and I take the night off from chastising him for speaking with food in his mouth. “Did you and Piper make these?” He asks.

I shake my head and hand him the other biscuit and a half that he’s due before eating my own two. “A friend of mine did,” I say.

[valentineheaven]

Santa Bring My Baby Back To Me (Jack Lowden x Reader) / Part of “The Book Of Christmas” Series

Here is the third part of my «The Book Of Christmas» series. Again a lot of love and tenderness. This magic holiday is already very close, so spend it with those you love.

Summary: You can have a wonderful and sweet relationship for a long time, but at one point, one oversight can kill all feelings. You broke up with Jack after four years of relationships. But have not you hurried? Perhaps your love is not killed? Today is Christmas and, maybe, it will help you to be together again.

Song: Elvis Presley – Santa Bring My Baby Back (To Me)

In all this Christmas bustle it is impossible to find any person who would be sad or upset. It seems that thanks to this festive and magical atmosphere, people simply forget about all their worries and just live wrapped up in a fairy tale. It seems that comfort and love reign everywhere.

Jack stood at the window of his apartment and looked at all this magic from a height of seventeen floors.

To him, the past few months have been incredibly bad and difficult. All this is because three months ago you broke up after four years of relationship. In truth, you were one of the most beautiful couples, your friends were jealous of your relationship. Jack loved you very much and seems to still love you.

All these several months of his thoughts were filled with thoughts of you. He tried to forget you - plunged himself into the work, filming in several films at the same time; a month lived in Scotland, every day occupying himself somehow; often met with friends in pubs and clubs - but all is useless. Thoughts about you can’t be drowned in alcohol or lost in the virgin Scottish forests. The reminder of you is everywhere. It seems that it reigns in the air - invisible, but so intoxicating.

Here he is, drunk without wine, riding on a nightly illuminated by thousands of garlands London to meet another opportunity to forget about you. Today everyone is celebrating Christmas, so Jack was invited to a gala dinner in one film company. Briefly examining, crowned with gold garlands, the streets of the British capital, Jack smiles, remembering all his memories connected with this wonderful holiday. He recalls how, in his childhood, in a cozy Scottish house with his brother, he unpacked presents; how he watched Christmas movies with you and danced surrounded by a star shining sky.

Because of all these memories of you, family and Christmas, he didn’t notice how he came to the venue for the dinner. It was a tall glass building, the last floor of which seemed to be making a hole in the innocent blue canvas of the night sky. At the entrance to the building, the paparazzi were already on duty, wishing to snatch the best shots. Jack quickly skipped past the camera clicks and entered the film company building.

The hall in which the dinner was held was almost at the top - the twentieth floor. Just stepping into this room, the guests immediately fell into the solemn atmosphere of the main holiday. In the hall there was practically no bright light, it was only lighted by light yellow overflows of floor lamps and neon lights of hung garlands. The view from the windows goes straight to the sky … It was necessary to lower your head to see the city, but it does not need anything when you see such a magical view. Jack seemed to have disappeared long ago in all this splendor.

“Hey Jack!” – someone shouted loudly.

It was his old friend who works in this company. He walked over to Jack and hugged him tightly.

“As I have not seen you for a long time” – the guy said with a broad smile.

“I’m also very glad to see you” – Jack replied with a tight smile.

“You’re some kind of lost. Don’t you like it here?”

“No, I like it here: music, people and view” - said Jack, pointing to the blue cloth of the sky behind him.

“I know it’s not easy for you now, this whole bunch of work, interviews, parting with Y/N, but today all this can be left behind,” - the guy said with a smile, putting a friendly hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Besides, there are a lot of interesting people here today, many representatives of the film industry, with whom, I am sure, you will have something to talk about. And by the way …” - the guy continued to talk about something briskly, but Jack already did not listen, did not look at him.

All his attention, all the interest of his gaze at this moment was chained to the girl who entered the room. To the girl in a black dress, fitting all the charms of her beautiful figure. It was you. The same you who broke up with him a few months ago, but only now you have become even more beautiful. It’s like a few months you have painted your beauty, filling it with a new life. Your face shone with beauty, so virgin and gentle that it made your image even more fragile and feminine.

You didn’t notice Jack in this whole crowd, but he noticed you long before you came in. Together with you, that intoxicating feeling that reigned everywhere, wherever Jack went, entered that hall.

“I’m sorry, I need to go” - Jack said quickly, interrupting his friend.

He didn’t know whether you think about him or not, it doesn’t matter to him. The important thing is that you are here, that he can see you. You stand at a table with snacks, holding a crystal glass of champagne in your hand, and talking to someone briskly. Jack decided to wait until you were alone to say hello to you.

He knew that he still loved you, that he needed you. All the months spent without you were the most nebulous months in his life. Everything seemed wrapped in a dense fog through which nothing could be seen. He walked, trying to cope with his thoughts about you, trying not to get lost in all this, but something pulled him back.

“Hello” - softly and sweetly you whispered in his ear.

Jack turned to you; his face was already full of a big smile.

“Hello” - also melodically and tenderly he said. “I didn’t expect to meet you here. Did you decide to work in a movie industry?”

“No, of course not” - you smiled. “I was invited by my friend - Natalie, you know, it’s incredibly stupid and boring to sit on Christmas at home alone, and it’s not possible to visit a family dinner, because the family is far away. So I gladly accepted her invitation” - you smiled sincerely, you answered Jack.

He was the same as he was before, beautiful and calm, smiling and cheerful, kind and beloved. Yes, beloved ones. After breakup with him, you went to your parents in Italy for a month, (your family is full-blooded British, but they have lived in Italy for sixteen years). But – neither the Italian nature, nor the Florentine guys, nor the work – couldn’t make you forget about this Scottish man who for four long years was the meaning of your whole life. Or maybe he still the meaning of your whole life?

“Where did you spend those four months?” - Jack asked, although he knew where you were.

“Well, I went to visit my family in September. Autumn in Italy is especially beautiful. Then for a long three months I went to work, wrote a lot of good reviews and articles, everything else as usual” - you said, taking a sip of some champagne from the glass. “And you?”

“The only place I went was Scotland, I had visited my family too, then a couple of interesting projects turned up and I started to go to the shooting, probably spent two months on all these films" - he laughed softly.

“Are you dating with anyone now?” – said you unexpectedly for both of you.

“Um …” - Jack drawled; by the expression of his embarrassed face, you realized that you shouldn’t have asked about it. “No, I’m not” - with a smile, he finally answered.

In truth, you were very much afraid of what he would say. This second pause between his words seemed to you a long time into eternity. But, having heard that he is alone, in your soul triumph has triumphed.

“And you?” - Jack asked quietly, but your attention, like the attention of everyone in the hall, was riveted to the man in a gray suit standing in another corner of the hall. Jack turned to see him.

It was the head of the film company, who arranged this dinner. He was a middle-aged man of strong build and with pleasant gray-blue eyes, which made his expression so kind. He stood against the embroidered with stars sky, holding a fragile glass in his hand, in which champagne was scattered like fireworks. The arrow on the clock slowly crawled to the number twelve on the dial, so the head of the company decided to make a festive speech.

“I know how tired you are of my long statements about the cinema and the meaning of cinema, which I tell you every single day,” - he began with a smile. “But today I’m not going to bore you with these boring conversations, especially since tomorrow we have a meeting according to plan” - in the hall there was a piercingly quiet laugh.

You watched, observing all the words that this man says. He looked like the man who had already seen a lot and who wouldn’t say foolish words.

Jack was also interested in his performance, but occasionally the glare of his eyes fell on you, watching the way you listened to the words of the head of the company.

“Today we celebrate one of the most long-awaited, most beautiful and most magical holidays of the year - Christmas. For one day we have the right to forget about everything - about work, about studies, about problems - and just enjoy all the splendor that surrounds us today. For one day we have the right to feel like children. Ask, why children?”

“Why children?” - shouted from the crowd one of the guests, interrupting the head of the company. Stone silence was deafening laughter.

“Thank you for asking, Miles, I appreciate your enthusiasm,“ - the man said with a kind smile, turning to the guy in the crowd, and continued. "Because children are, in my opinion, a symbol of Christmas, because it’s these little creatures looking up at us from the bottom up with their big clean eyes, the only ones who can make us believe in the existence of real magic, because their souls are so pure, and the hearts are so blooming that they themselves can easily act as the embodiment of magic”

All the time of his performance in the hall stood a fragile, like crystal, silence, which didn’t want to break with a single rustle. All that you heard is the loud voice of the head of the company and the intermittent breath standing next to you Jack.

"So now, when the clock arrow hits twelve, forget that you are an adult man and woman, forget that you have some worries and problems, and remember yourself as a child. Find in your heart a part of the heart that still breathes childhood, let it instantly take possession of your whole being and just believe in magic. Become the personification of a magic. Become a child and make a wish. Guess what you really want»

He finished his speech exactly when the clock struck twelve. A loud rumble broke the crystal silence and announced that it was time to believe in a miracle.

While clock continued to beat sharp sounds, there was silence in the hall, those little girls and boys stood in the hall, who, crossing their soft fingers, whispered their secret desires, knowing that they would necessarily be fulfilled.

Jack found in himself that little red-haired boy and made his wish.

"Dear Santa, bring my baby Y/N back to me” - he said with his lips, without a single sound, and opened his eyes.

“I congratulate you, friends and colleagues!  Merry Christmas!” - said the head of the company and raised his glass.

“Merry Christmas!” - chorus repeated all the guests and drank their champagne.

Soft light gently plume fell to the pad in the middle of the hall, where a few minutes ago there was a crowd of bewitched listeners. Tart female voice, singing in rhythm to the slow melody, as a light mist fell on the floor, wrapping the dancing couples.

“I hope you will give me a dance?” - giving you an intoxicating smile, asked Jack.

“Of course” - you smiled and went with him towards the dance floor.

You stood in the middle of the hall, bathed in silver lights of the soffits. You haven’t danced together so long, so now you were overwhelmed with an incredible feeling. A kind of passion mixed with virgin sympathy. This feeling was read in the eyes of both of you.

With one hand Jack gently hugged your waist, and with the other hand stroking your back, occasionally touching with his cold fingers your bare shoulder and settling a kind of trembling in your body. It was not just gentle touches; it was the touch of a loved one. Your face covered the silver veil of light, your movements were measured and smooth. Jack studied your face, as if trying to find at least some flaw. But there were no flaws in your face, and he knew it.

You loved his soft red hair, so immediately got your fingers in them, gently stroking his head. He liked that, so he smiled at you. His marble-blue eyes, pampered with the caress of light, gently looked at you, making you admire their natural beauty. You both could no longer bear this feeling, which tied you both tightly with a satin ribbon.

This touch is the most tender and the most desirable. The touch of your lips, merged into a tender kiss. His lips slid on yours. You already have forgotten this feeling, covering you during a kiss. You felt a light frosty blush on your cheeks as your lips moved away from each other.

Now you exchanged with each other by the warmth of your intermittent breathing, feeling the thin material of hot breath surrounds your faces.

“Y/N, we both know perfectly well that we still love each other” - you felt the breath of his words on your lips; you felt the taste of his words. “Our breakup a few months ago is a big mistake. If you knew how many times I tried to forget you, and how many times I couldn’t do it” - he said, and taking your chin, lifted your gaze to him.

“I know it’s hard to forget someone whom you loved for many years” - smiling, you started. Jack was a little nervous about these words, but his face still breathed happy calmness. “I also tried to forget you many times, but, dammit, Lowden, you don’t get out of my head even for a minute” - you both laughed softly. “Nothing - neither Italy nor the Florentine guys, nor a lot of work – couldn’t occupy my thoughts more than you” - you looked at him with sunny tenderness in your eyes.

“We should try to start our relationship with a clean slate” - Jack began. «This breakup battered and exhausted both of us; we drowned in the lake of our own thoughts. The New Year is a great opportunity to start a new one and return the old one" - he said quietly, looking intently into your eyes

“We don’t need to forget the old, we just need to continue what was started a long time ago, love is immortal, Jack, you told me about it” - said you, and your lips again burned a kiss.

The head of the company, speaking with a Christmas speech, was right that today we must forget about everything that weighs on us, and believe in the possibility of the miracle surrounding us wherever we go. Those little girls and boys who stood here at twelve o'clock and asked for desires didn’t yet know that they would begin to come true so soon. The power of faith in a miracle, faith in the beautiful helped to direct the magic in the right direction.

The only thing Jack wanted was you. He wanted to cure himself of his love for you, but he couldn’t, because he loved you too much. The only thing you wanted was to find true love. So the Christmas night brought you to Jack. The most sincere and true love that you so wanted to find, lived in his heart. And this love belongs only to you. And today you are convinced of this again.

[pagesoflauren]

“What’s a Kiss?” (Collins x mermaid AU)

Hiiiiii I bring you a random thing that came to mind when I was watching The Little Mermaid last week 😂

THANK YOU @ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff for spitballing ideas with me!!! You da best :D

“No, I’m going down!”

The rattling of the plane as it hit the water.

The cockpit flooding with water as the windscreen refused to slide open.

The rhythmic thudding as the butt of the pistol repeatedly hit the glass.

A gasp for air.

Darkness.

Then the sound of glass shattering.

That’s the last thing he remembers.

He wakes with a start, the sun high in the sky and shining directly in his eyes. His back is uncomfortable; he’s slept on the floor of the air force training facility before, but that’s nothing compared to this. He hears the splash of the water against the rock he’s lying on, the noise and the splash of water on his face startling him into an upright position.

How did he get here?

He looks around. He all he sees is water. No land, no ships, no planes. Just water and rocks.

“The large bird you were riding is sunk,” a voice says.

His head whips to the direction of the voice. He heart stops when he sees who spoke: a woman with bright eyes and pretty features, long hair and square shoulders.

“The…the what?” is all he can manage. He sounds almost as terrified as he feels. “The bird. With the spokes at the beak and large wings.” “It’s a plane,” he chokes out. “Plane?” she repeats, tilting her head.

He only nods.

“How did I get here?” “I carried you.” “How did…the glass wasn’t breaking.” “You were using a blunt hammer—“ “A gun.” “I used a rock.”

There’s a silence between them, filled with the water sloshing against the rock.

He takes a moment to process what’s happening. He had heard legends of women who lure men to their deaths at sea; sirens that seduced men with beautiful singing and mermaids who sink ships and pick out their victims among those who try to swim away.

Those legends couldn’t possibly true, could they?

“Your planes…” the woman starts, curiosity lacing her face, “they fight with each other?” “We…we fight with each other. The pilots,” he explains. “I saw two others go down before you. I couldn’t save them.” “The third,” he asks urgently, “The other plane that looked like mine, is it—“ “It was still in the air when I last saw it.”

He sighs with relief, ducking his head down. The engraved badge on his chest catches the sunlight, directing the creature’s attention to it. She reaches out, webbed fingers holding it.

“What does it say?” she asks “Collins,” he answers. “That’s you?” “My last name,” he says. “I’m Jack.” “I don’t have a last name,” she says, releasing the small metal plate from her grip. “Do you have a first name?” She looks thoughtful for a minute, as if no one had asked her what her name was before. When she finally answers, she’s quiet: “Halia.”

He smiles at this information. “Beautiful,” he says.

There’s an explosion in the distance that catches their attention. It startles her some, she ducks under the water to protect herself. When she resurfaces, Jack is looking in the direction of the blast, eyes darting, looking for another plane.

“I have to get to shore,” he says suddenly, pulling the straps of his Mae West and pulling it over his head. He tosses it aside before bending down to take off his boots. “The shore is miles away.”

“Doesn’t matter, I have to try,” he grunts once he gets his boots off and stands. He looks into the dark water before jumping in.

“I’ll go with you,” she says, hands on his shoulders to steady him in the water.

“Okay,” he breathes, blinking the salt water out of his eyes, “which…which way is…?” “This way,” she says, turning and diving under the water. He begins swimming in the direction she turned, feeling the freezing temperature of the English Channel engulf him and lap at his face. 

He didn’t know how long he’d been swimming for when he felt the adrenaline drain from his body, the aching in his muscles suddenly coming into his stream of consciousness. The currents of the channel didn’t help, pushing him around as if he were a rag doll. How far was he from shore?

“Jack,” he heard Halia call, “we’re not too far away, I can see it!”

Where? Where is it?

He was tired. The last words he said to Farrier escaped his lips again, “No...no, I’m going down.”

He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think. He felt his body grow heavy as his head bobbed under the water. His eyes closed.

He felt webbed hands on either side of his face. He opened his eyes, ignoring the stinging feeling of the salt water as his eyes met Halia’s frantic ones. She was saying something, but he couldn’t hear. She shook her head as his eyes drooped closed again.

Suddenly, there’s a mouth on his and a rush of air in his lungs. His eyes fly open and he sees her kissing him. When she pulls away, she looks at him and smiles, before pulling his arms around her and turning to swim them both to shore, carrying him as she did before.

Jack feels his body being laid on the sand. There’s a hand stroking his face and another on his chest.

“Jack?” he hears her. 

He opens his eyes and sees her above him, her long hair slightly swaying with the breeze that’s blowing. He coughs, feeling water drip out the corners of his mouth.

“Hey,” he says simply, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. She props herself on her hands next to him, watching as he shakes the water out of his blond hair and runs a hand down his face. He turns and see the white cliffs some distance away and sighs with relief, letting his muscles relax as he laid back down on the sand.

“Jack?” she says worriedly. “I’m alright, lass, I’m alright.”

He feels her run her fingers across his face again and turns to smile at her. She smiles back. He doesn’t want to sit up again, so he settles for propping himself on his elbows, feeling them sink into the sand a little with his weight. 

“So,” he says, “since you kissed me, can I breathe underwater now?”

She tilts her head. “I didn’t kiss you.” “Yes, you did, lass,” he grins cheekily, “I felt it right before you started carrying me.” “That wasn’t a kiss. I was giving you air to let you breathe.” “You sure?” “Of course I’m sure!” she exclaims indignantly, “I don’t...what is a kiss? I’ve never done that.”

He chuckles at her. “Stop that! I did not kiss you!” she says, pouting and crossing her arms.  “Alright, alright, lass,” he laughs sitting up and placing his finger under her chin to turn her face so she could look at him.

They looked at each other for a bit, hearing the waves crash onto the shore and recede for a moment. 

“You don’t know what a kiss is?” he asks, eyes dropping from looking at hers to looking at her lips.  She shakes her head. “Want me to show you?” he whispers, leaning closer to her.  She nods.

Jack closes his eyes and leans forward, feeling his forehead touch hers. He feels her try to lean away. “Trust me, stay with me,” he says quietly. He tilts his head up to kiss her nose first, hearing her giggle. He opens his eyes and looks into her bright ones before leaning down and pressing his mouth on hers. Her lips taste salty, having been in the water for so long. They’re a little cold too, but he can’t pull away. All he thinks about is how much he wants to keep kissing her, how she’s the only one he wants to kiss for the rest of his life. 

He pulls away, only for her to rush forward and press her lips to his. He feels her wind her arms around his neck. When she pulls away, she’s giggling. “I like kissing,” she says innocently. 

He laughs, watching her cheeks flush. He presses kisses across her face, laying back down on the sand, her next to him, cradled in his arms and her head nestled into his neck.

One Year Later . . .

Jack finished washing his breakfast dishes before placing them on the drying rack. He quickly wiped his hands and grabbed his jacket, running out the door. 

The air was crisp by the seaside and there was a slight breeze bending the beach grass. He walked down the trail to the shore, feeling his shoes sink a little in the sand. 

He walked along the shore, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He stopped by a cluster of rocks, where the sound of the waves hitting the shore was louder. He looked on, admiring the view. 

There wasn’t much. The sky was as gray as it was a year ago. The sun was hidden behind the thick clouds and gulls glided overhead. He sighed contentedly. Then he heard a voice.

“Jack,” Halia called. 

He turned and found her perched on a rock, having just climbed from the water. He walked into the water, wading over to her until he was knee-deep.

“Hi,” he grinned, reaching out to take her hands. “Hi,” she said, replicating his smile as she squeezed his hands, “Can I have a kiss?”

He chuckled, his eyes full of nothing but adoration. “You don’t even have to ask anymore.”

.

.

.

:D

I really hope you guys liked this!!! I don’t know what will come of it, maybe a few blurbs if you guys want or another part! 

As always, I love hearing your thoughts/feedback!!! Thanks for reading!

[stateofloveandnegan]

RICHARD MADDEN - one shots 

A Funeral

RICHARD MADDEN - short series

Broken Ankle

Part 1

Part 2

Eighteen Years

Part 1

Part 2

JAMES MCAVOY - one shots

The Physiotherapist

Drowning

Is This Love?

Happy Birthday

JAMES MCAVOY - short series

Memories

Part 1

Part 2

BEN BARNES - one shots

Fifteen Years

TARON EGERTON - one shots

First Kiss

I’ve Got You

JOE MAZZELLO - one shots

News

GWILYM LEE - one shots

You’ve Changed

A Blind Date

Broken

JACK LOWDEN - one shots

Cousin

MICHAEL FASSBENDER - one shots

Smoking

Depression

MATTHEW PERRY - one shots

The Beach

BEN LAMB - one shots

Alone

TYLER HOECHLIN - requests

Anniversary

MATT BOMER - requests

Worst Day

BEN HARDY - requests

Mine

MICHAEL FASSBENDER X JAMES MCAVOY - one shots

Touch

[gingercullenboy]

Modern Dunkirk: Collins&Farrier - Coffee Shop + Single Parent + Police AU

for @smuggsy 

[smuggsy]

“A Scot In Training”, a series on AO3, Farrier & Collins.