#stephenxreader

[drdanwrites]

Collab Fic Announcement

Hey everyone!

So @fantasticnewtimagines and I have decided to collaborate on a Stephen Wraysford fic!!

Introducing "Healing of a Solider"

We will be posting the first part this week! We will also notate who wrote what part. It's gonna be awesome and we are so excited to write this together!!! xxx

[drdanwrites]

Stephen Wraysford x Reader Series (We’ve Still Got Time) is the Winner!

Thank you to everyone who contacted me and voted. I have the first chapter all written and ready for you below! 

Since it was such a close call, I’ve decided to write the other series as well. The first chapter of One Love will be posted Friday!

Please note these is a bit of violence or implied violence and mentions of death and blood.

 Chapter 1: 

As his foot landed in the dirt, ashes kicked up around him making an eerie grey fog surround him. He had seen these trenches and he knew each path to take. As he continued to walk, everything was slow and he could see the dirt particles flying through the air as another bullet hit the ground. A straight line here, a left turn there and he instantly found himself before the entryway of a crumbling shack. The doorway was dark and he couldn’t make out anything inside. A pistol, attached by a worn and tattered string to his trousers, was clenched in his hand. His legs carried him to the open door as his mind screamed, no you fool. His other hand gripped the door frame. Light spontaneously showed from behind him and lit the way to the well hole in the middle of the room. No. His brain called out but his foot took a step into the shack. Don’t. His brain pleaded. The sound of his worn boot soles reverberated against the aged walls. When he reached the well, it took everything he had to place a quivering hand on top of the well hole. Sweat collected and rolled down under his hat. You know they’re down there. He did know it and he wanted to stop himself from moving his body forward. Wanted to run from the room screaming, but he couldn’t. His eyes peered over the top of well. It was black. For a moment he was relieved, even if it was short lived. The first thing he made out was a young officer. His body laid in an awkward position, lifeless on top of another body. This body on top of another body and continued down. There were entwining limbs and faces… the faces. The features of the ones he knew. The ones he had called family…. Firebrace… his comrade’s face flashed before his eyes and he stumbled backwards.

“Papa?” Only he doesn’t hear these words. He hears the wretching sounds of a German accent. His spine went rigide as he turned on his heel. A shadowed figure now stood in the doorway and although he couldn’t see the figure’s face, he knew it was the enemy. The reason all those men were in the well. In their eternal graves. His pistol hand knew what to do as it extended out slowly, trying not to bring attention to his defense.

“PAPA.” The voice screamed louder, though he still couldn’t hear their cries for mercy. His arm was full extended now as the pistol gave him added length. He was waiting for the right moment. The moment his bullet would fully take the bastard by surprise. His finger on the trigger rubbed the metal in anticipation. Sweat was now fully forming on his forehead and began to slowly fall from his face and onto his uniform below. His eyes were slits and twitched with preparation for the shock of the kickback that he would soon embrace. The figure seemed to be unaware of their fate and he took this as his advantage.

“Mr. Waysford!” The jolt of reality shocked Stephen Wraysford and his pistol which was facing a figure, the figure of his 8 year old daughter. She was a statue against the bedroom door. His finger slipped in the shock and his heart sank faster than lightning. The revolver clicked in an anticlimactic false start. Everyone in the room let out a immediate sigh of relief. Stephen stood almost wobbling back and forth. The nightmare had taken a lot out of him physically and emotionally. He suddenly slumped back against the wall and blacked out. He almost enjoyed these moments where he was too exhausted to feel, too exhausted to remember her face.

The cook, who had entered the room only by accident quickly aided the little girl, who seemed to be in some shock. She had aimlessly walked into the kitchen to get a cup of water as her room had been too dry. Upon hearing the other kitchen door open, she had seen the figure of her father. He stood quite still, eyes half closed as he made his way nearer the kitchen table in the middle of the room. The little girl had moved from the sink, to the other side of the table.

“Papa.” She had called out. Her mousey french accent had seemed to catch his ear but he did not utter a sound. He seemed to not recognize her. As she went round the table to hug him, his pistol suddenly rounded the other side of him and took aim at her head. Quickly she had jumped back and walked right into the opposite wall. For sometime he stared at her with his eyes half open.

“PAPA.” She called trying to arouse him from his daze. The pistol was cocked back and she silently began to whimper.

It had been a year since the two had learned of each other’s existence. Her mother had passed from her injuries she acquired during a bombing in their old home. Her aunt had become her surrogate mother and before her father had turned up one summer afternoon, suitcase in hand. For a time it had seemed that Françoise had the perfect family, a full dynamic. Her father , Stephen was cold and standoffish for a time. She had been eager to get to know him once learning of his relation. Though she could sense his troubles, times where he would go into a rage behind locks doors or stare out a window for far too long. In these moments she likes to observe him and take in who he was as a person, trying to see how he would fit in with her life.

These silent moments where nothing like the horror she faced in this scene as her father was unreachable. Suddenly, a third door opened and Françoise could swear she hear an angel chorus. As Heidi had entered, she seem to recognize the situation and called out to her father. With the sudden mention of his name, the trance seem to fade from his green eyes, though his body was still in it and his finger pulled the trigger.

As his body lay slumped on the floor, Hedi rushed over to Françoise. After quickly looking over every inch of her body, to make sure he had not hurt her, Heidi rushed to the telephone. Her shaking finger rolled over the numbers and waited to be connected to an operator.

“Bonjour, hôpital.” Her speech was broken and only short sentences shot out. Françoise held onto her dress for comfort as she watch her father sleep soundly at last. “Jeanne, it’s getting worse. He had a gun to her head…Françoise, yes of course! I cannot be responsible for him. You need to call someone in.” As Françoise heard Heidi continue on in the background, she slowly let go of Hedi and walked over to her father. She carefully removed the pistol from his hand and placed it delicately on the ground. The floor was cold as she sat down on her legs next to him. Her hand folding around his.

The hospital was busy as you sat in the waiting room to be called. The case file you had been handed was not a large one, but the contents were substantial enough to warrant your services. After the war there had been too many soldiers, too many families left broken. The last family you cared for had seen 3 child without a father and a mother who needed to earn a man’s wage to keep the family intact. You watched as men in wheelchairs desperately tried to get around and young boys who were trying to get used to opening a door with one arm. The war had left so much devastation in its wake and it didn’t just affect the grounds of battle, but the minds and hearts of the brave men and woman who gave themselves to the cause.

“She’s ready to see you now.” A nurse in uniform comes up to you. Thanking her with a nod, you get up and follow her down a long hallway. When you reach the room, a woman sits up in the hospital bad. She looked worn and tired. Her hair is thin and oily, she tries to run a hand through it’s long strands, but it hardly helps. You find a chair in the corner of the room and bring it closer to the woman. As you settle into the chair, you can see she is very thin and pale, uneaten food sits on a side table next to her.

“Jeanne?” You ask her. She nods with a smile. You place out a hand and she accepts it in a friendly shake. “I’m Y/N Y/L, it is so very nice to meet you.”

“I hope your travel in wasn’t too inconvenient.” Jeanne replied as she referred to your recent move from England to France.

“Not at all. On the contrary, I found the change of scenery very refreshing. Can’t tell you how bleak London has been since all this war business.” You tried your best to stay as formal and professional as possible, when all you wanted to do was reach out a comforting hand to the woman, after all she had lost her sister and fell ill all within a short time.

“I take it the agency sent you my request.” You look down in your lap at the folder which held Jeanne’s application for a carer. Folding over the flap, you remove the documents which revealed Françoise and Stephen’s story.

“Yes, I did. I’ve had a chance to read it over, twice. Nothing I haven’t seen or handled before. This war has left a lot of our men to deal with the nightmares of everything they have seen. I’ve worked with children Françoise’s age before and have dealt with several ex soldiers who were diagnosed with battle fatigue.”

“I wish I could be there to help him, but I…I” As she spoke, her emotions took over and she began to tremble. You quickly reach over and place your hands on hers.

“Please do not fret, Jeanne. I promise you, they are in the most capable hands. I don’t want to you pressure yourself, merely focus on your recovery, please.” Your eyes show her all the devotion you have to her family. She nodded as she silently cried. “There there. Please, dry your eyes.” Turning to the tissue box beside the bed, you reach and pull on up as it’s replacement takes its place. You hand it to her and Jeanne takes it and dabbs the corners of her eyes.

“Thank you.” She whispers. The door to the room opens and a little girl runs inside. Jeanne’s exterior quickly changes to that of a brave mother and smiles.

“Françoise!” She says was excitement. The little girl returns the glowing smile and climbs onto the bed, cuddling into her loving aunt. Jeanne wraps her arms around Françoise, laying a danity kiss upon her head. “Where is your father.” She said as looked to the door.

“He’s speaking to the doctor outside.” Her little green eyes fall upon you. Jeanne notices and hugs her closer, looking up at you.

“This my dear is Ms. Y/L, she’s going to be staying with Papa and you while I’m away here. You better mind what she says.” Françoise timidly peered at you. This makes you smile and you give her a tiny wave of your fingers.

“Bonjour Françoise. I look forward to getting to know you better. I can tell we are going to get along very well.” As you said this, boots entering the room. You look up to find an extremely handsome man standing in the doorway. Everything about his demeanor screamed that he had just served his country. Jeanne and Françoise looked up at the man. His first glance connected with yours. His face didn’t give away if he was happy or not with your presence.

“Y/N L/N, this is Stephen Wraysford.” The two of you look back at each other, you immediately walk over to each other and connect hands. Instantly a thrill rushes up your arm and down your spine. You do your best not to show this in your face. Stephen gives you a gentle smile.

“Ms. L/N, pleasure.” He looked from you to Jeanne, as if he looking for her to explain why you were present in the room. 

“Ms. L/N is going to be staying with Françoise and you.” Stephen dropped your hand quickly. He folded his arms across his chest, you can tell instantly this situation wasn’t a good topic between the pair.

“I thought we discussed, a carer wasn’t needed, Jeanne. Françoise and I are doing just fine.” According to the file you read, you knew this was not the case. Jeanne coughs slightly.

“We did discuss this, however she’ll be more of a carer for the house and for Françoise.” Stephen pondered over her words as he looked you up and down, only moving his eyes. Jeanne’s cough continued to get worse as she tried to continue the conversation. Stephen and you quickly rush over to help. Stephen grabs the water on the food tray next to the bed and you carefully help remove Françoise to let Jeanne have more space. Jeanne trembles as she took the water with shaking hands. She greedily gulped down the liquid and the coughing seemed to die down, but it had left its mark on her physically as she tried to catch her breath. As Stephen fixes her blankets, Jeanne begins to closer her eyes. You can hear her mumble a few words to Stephen. He stops mid-tuck and puts a hand on Jeanne’s shoulder before turning around. You stand with Françoise tightly tucked behind your leg. Stephen looks down at the both of you as he turns.

“I think it may be time to give her some rest.” He says as he ushers you all out of the room.

Let me know what you all think!

[drdanwrites]

You choose my next series!

Hey guys! 

So I need your help! 

I would like to start a new series before I open requests at the end of the month. I have two ideas for two different Eddie fandoms. As I’m opening requests, I think 4 series would be too much for me to commit to. 

Here is where you, my readers come in. Below are my ideas for my potential new series. I’d like for you to tell me which one you would like me to write. I will keep polls open until Wednesday and will post the first chapter of that series on Saturday 7/22. I’ll announce the new series Wednesday evening. 

Here we go:

A.) One Love series: This is a William Stafford x Reader series (This is Eddie Redmayne’s character in The Other Boleyn Girl). Reader is Henry the 8th’s cousin and while the Boleyn family comes to court, the reader and William enter into a secret affair. However when the King finds about about their relationship, he seeks out to abolish it. 

B.) Unnamed Stephen Wraysford x Reader series: This series takes place after the movie. Stephen is suffering with PTSD and trying to adjust to being a single father after Jeanne falls horribly ill and is put into the hospital. Jeanne hires a Nanny/carer to come and take care of Stephen and his daughter. Will he learn to love and live again or will he let his world crumble? 

Well there it is my friends! Please send me your vote and let me know what you want to read! 

Love. Peace. Chicken Grease. 

[smindersonfan]

Do you have Stephen x Reader fics?

I've tried writing StephenxReader in the past, but it's never come out right in my head each time I write a plot. Sorry, Anon. But I can try sometime this weekend.

[drdanwrites]

Healing of a Soldier: Stephen Wraysford x Reader Part 1 - Collab

 @fantasticnewtimagines​ and I really hope you love our first collab fic! 

@fantasticnewtimagines wrote: 

January 5th, 1919 The crisp chilly air blew against the windows of your home in Winchester England. The holidays had come to a close and your family of five was now preparing the house for the new arrival of a soldier just recently coming home from the war. When news spread that the war to end all wars had finally ended, your mother (the loving person that she is) suggested that the family take in a soldier and help him reacquaint himself back into society and give him a place to live until he was able to care for himself. “I wonder what he’ll be like!” Your youngest sister, Annabelle pondered as she sat at the table sipping her tea. She was the tender age of sixteen and always looking for a good piece of eye candy. “Probably boring...” Emma, the oldest replied. Emma was twenty-six with the personality that of a cat. She would spend time with others on her own terms and was most likely to be found alone and doing her own thing. “I bet he’s like all the others,” You said as you worked on your needlework in the sitting room alongside your sisters. “If I had to take a guess, he’s probably going to be bitter and rude.” “And how would you know?” Annabelle replied, casting you a glare from the chair across the room, “Besides, mother says he may be a young man.” “Oh, calm yourself, Annabelle.” Emma sighed, “You’re much too young to be thinking about men.” “I’m sixteen! I’m not a baby!” Emma rolled her eyes, looking over at you as you giggled. “Well, I hope he finds our home welcoming and is able to settle in nicely. God only knows how he’ll manage to live among four woman!” You laughed. “I feel bad for the gentleman. I do hope they informed him of his soon to be living arrangements.” “He’s here!” The sound of your mother scurrying towards the room caught your attention and you all looked up to see her in a mad frenzy making sure everything was perfect and in tip top shape. Annabelle nearly tossed her needlework aside as she made way to the nearest mirror and began fixing her curly locks. Emma just scoffed as she walked passed her. The sound of a car door closing caught your attention and you paused in the window, moving the curtain aside to get a look at the soldier. You couldn't quite make him out. From what you could see was that he was tall, thin and had brown hair. His dark green uniform stood out from his snowy surroundings and you squinted as he turned slightly giving you the chance to see his profile. “Y/N!” Dropping the curtain, you quickly answered your mother’s call and took your place alongside your sister’s as your father made his way inside holding the case of the soldier’s belongings. The moment the man came in to view you were surprised to find that he was nothing you had expected. He was young, no older than twenty three you assumed. His face was adorned in light brown freckles and his hair was neatly brushed back and out of his face. His green eyes were full of sadness and you assumed it had to be from the horrors he had seen while serving in the war. “Welcome!” Excited, your mother escorted the young man in. He met the eye’s of your younger sisters but lingered longer when they set on you. He walked by slowly, your mother nearly dragging him along towards the dining room. “I hope you’re not too exhausted from your journey.” Pulling out a chair she motioned for him to sit. “I’ve made some tea and whipped up some small treats for you. I do hope you will enjoy your stay here. Oh! I forgot to introduce myself... I’m Mrs. Y/L/N. These are my daughter’s, Annabelle, Emma and Y/N. You’ve met my husband already.... oh please! Help yourself!” Everyone took their seats at the table, your father taking his after placing the soldier’s belonging down. “Emma, dear... pass these down to...?” Your mother held a plate of cookies out to your sister, pausing when she realized the man hadn’t shared his name yet. Everyone grew silent, all looking at the poor soldier who clearly looked overwhelmed and slightly scared. “S-Stephen,” He mumbled, “Stephen Wraysford.” “Mr. Wrayford.” You mother finished. She cast a smile at him and he shyly looked…

@drdanwrites wrote: 

...across to the reflection of the three other women before him. His gaze fell upon each one individually. Each produced their own unique stare back at him. Expressing in their own way intrigue at the man before them. As his glance fell upon you however, you decided to make it clear that his presence was not anything you desired and you subtly turned your nose up at him. Almost taken aback by this response he furrowed his eyebrows at you, as if to ask what was wrong with you.

“Now. Mr. Wraysford,” Your father interrupted your unspoken argument and instantly startled Stephen. “Where was it you join us from?”

“France, sir.” His answer was prolonged and as you watched his response you could have sworn that pain flashed across his eyes. It was not uncommon for you to see this reflective sorrow to wash upon other men of war.

“France!” Your mother chimed in, trying ever so hard to lighten the depressive air. “What a gorgeous countryside. Why, our Annabelle here has been studying the beautiful french language. Haven't you, darling.”

Annabelle nodded as she sat up straighter, loving the attention the handsome soldier was now bestowing upon her.

“Ah!” Stephen said, acknowledging the fact that your mother was trying to deter the conversation from his painful background. He pondered a moment to think of something nice to say to her in French. “Tu as une jolie robe”.

You watched as Annabelle light up at the obvious compliment the soldier had paid her. She quickly flung her hands to her shoulders, playing with the fabric of her dress between her fingers. The flirtatious glimmer in her eyes flashed as she smiled mischievously back at Stephen. “Et tu es très beau.”

From the look of Stephen’s blush stained cheeks, you all instantly knew your youngest sister had said something wildly inappropriate and Emma and you quietly kick her under the table. Your father had broken out the days newspaper and had found himself hiding behind it as he cleared his throat. 

“I’m sure you will be glad to have landed on English soil again.” Stephen straightened in his chair again and return to a more serious tone. 

“Ah, yes, it will however take some getting used to.” 

“I daresay you’ll want to be looking for a job soon, start making your fortune.” Your father nonchalantly commented as the rustling of a turning page accompanied his question. 

Before Stephen could respond, your mother chimed in quickly. 

“Well, George. I’m sure Mr Wraysford wants to explore his options. Maybe relax...” Then she moved in for the kill. “... maybe find himself a sweetheart?” You stopped drinking your tea and gave a sideways glance and rolled your eyes discreetly. Now it has all come all too clear why your mother has agreed to have a soldier stay in their home.

“Winifred!” Your father moaned in annoyance, having heard this speech many times before.

“What? I’m only saying... do you have a sweetheart then, Mr. Wraysford?”

Your eyes dart to Stephen who seems to get lost in the question. “Ugh… no Mrs. Y/L/N, no one.” You need not look at your mother to already see the growing plotting smile instantly plop on her face.

“Did you hear that, Y/N?” Your mother said still staring at Stephen.

Stephen was never so confused and looked to you, wondering what he had got himself into. Meanwhile, you quickly shook your head, knowing where your mother was leading the conversation. Quickly, you stood up, startlingly Emma in the process.

“No mother, I didn't.” You say looking at her with warning daggers in your eyes. “Pardon me, Mr. Wraysford, while I excuse myself from being sold to auction by my mother.” With that you make your way to the library where you plan to hold up until your mother came to terms that you were particularly happy with not being anyone's “sweetheart” for the time.

@fantasicnetimages and I hope you enjoy the first part! Please let us know if you would like us to continue!