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ava-candide · 4 years ago

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Poldark’s Aidan Turner on playing Leonardo da Vinci

The newly married heart-throb actor learnt to paint left-handed for his new role, and he’s still daubing now, he tells Ed Potton

Aidan Turner takes on the role of Renaissance polymath Leonardo

I’m trying to work out where Aidan Turner is Zooming from. Is it London, where he moved to in 2017 after his Ross Poldark became the drooled-over king of Sunday-night television? Dublin, where he grew up, trained as an actor and returned to spend the first lockdown with his parents? Or Rome, where he shot his new series, Leonardo, in which he plays a young Leonardo da Vinci?

“None of the above!” Turner says. “I’m in Toronto.” The enigmatic charm, feline eyes and gleaming locks that he deployed so mercilessly in Poldark, The Hobbit films and Being Human are all there. “My missus is working here,” he explains, and so is he. That’s the American actress Caitlin FitzGerald, his partner of three years, whom he met when they starred in the 2018 film The Man Who Killed Hitler and Then the Bigfoot. At first I assume the “missus” is laddish affectation but it turns out that it’s official: Turner and FitzGerald, both 37, got married in secret in Italy in August after filming finished on Leonardo. You can almost hear the sighs of disappointment ripple around the world.

Turner won’t say any more — he is famously guarded about his personal life — but he looks insanely happy in the couple’s rented apartment. FitzGerald — whose grandfather Desmond was a CIA agent and organised several plots to assassinate Fidel Castro — is shooting a series, Station Eleven, in Toronto while her husband works on another project that he’s not allowed to talk about. In their downtime they’ve been watching I’ll Be Gone in the Dark, an HBO documentary series about the Golden State Killer, and, on a lighter note, Ottolenghi and the Cakes of Versailles. They share the apartment with Charlie, an ebullient Norfolk terrier that Turner has to eject from the room halfway through our interview when he starts yapping. “I’m surprised he behaved for so long,” he says

Eight-part series Leonardo has been criticised for warping history

Like many of his fellow thesps, Turner has been doing a great deal of lockdown painting. “We have a roof garden here and the light has been really good,” he says. “I probably shouldn’t be saying this because I don’t know if the landlord knows. It’s not messy work anyway!” Unlike some of his peers — I’m looking at you, Pierce Brosnan — he has yet to unleash his daubings on the world. How would he describe his style? “I struggle to say abstract, but I haven’t quite figured out what it is yet.” Did it help with playing Leonardo? “I don’t know. If you saw my paintings, you’d assume very much not,” Turner says. He has a studied line in self-effacement, honed after years of “sexiest man on TV” questions.

Leonardo premiered in Italy last month and was watched by seven million, many of them doubtless keen to see Turner brooding in a succession of smocks. The eight-part series has been criticised for warping history, having the artist accused of murder and featuring an apparently fictional muse, Caterina da Cremona, played by Matilda De Angelis from The Undoing. Luca Bernabei, the chief executive of Lux Vide who produced the series, defended it stoutly. “Matilda De Angelis’s character did exist. She was a model Leonardo asked to paint,” he said. “We have been really careful in our research. But this is not a documentary, we are not historians and this is not a university history lecture.”

And if the history pedants are spluttering, the art pedants should be happier — the series goes to considerable lengths to make the painting look authentic. Each episode is themed around a different masterpiece, from the portrait of Ginevra de’ Benci to The Last Supper to the Mona Lisa, and the candlelit cinematography is often sumptuous. Turner’s research included a private view of a Leonardo exhibition. “I spent some time alone with the actual paintings, which was brilliant,” he says. “They’re just like high-definition photographs. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that a human had done this.”

Aidan Turner attended an artist’s boot camp before filming started

The series opens in Florence in the 1460s, with Leonardo a pupil of Verrocchio, played by the veteran Italian actor Giancarlo Giannini. Before the shoot Turner and his co-stars went on an artists’ boot camp (brush camp?) supervised by professionals. He says the hardest part was learning to paint, as Leonardo did, with his left hand. He compares it to learning to ride a horse for Poldark, which he pretended he knew how to do before going on a crash course when he got the part.

Brushwork was the same, he says. “I realised I had to get good quite quickly and look like I knew what I was doing with my left hand, which is more difficult than you would think. It’s keeping it steady — you find it just moves around a lot. Leonardo was very slow and precise — I think I got it down. After a few weeks you start picking up the brush with your left hand, it becomes natural.”

Leonardo was a vegetarian, Turner tells me, “and apparently later in life opened some sort of vegetarian restaurant”. He was also gay, something that, despite reports, the series does not shy away from. Was this Turner’s first time kissing a man on screen? He laughs. “Of all the things I was expecting you to ask next, that wasn’t one of them! In a lot of ways it was just another love scene. The fact that the gender was different — that was never a thing. No, it felt right. It didn’t feel any different at all. But yeah, to answer your question, that was the first time, which I’d never really thought of until now.”

What did feel weird, he says, were the Covid protocols. “Suddenly people are wearing masks and shields and hazmat suits. We had a big sanitisation machine as we walked in that would spray us. You take off the mask when you shoot the scene and it’s a bit strange for a second. Then you realise it’s the first time you’ve seen your co-star’s face that day. It’s not conducive to a very creative environment, for sure. But we made it work and nobody got sick.”

Turner spends a chunk of the first episode painting De Angelis, and both actors know what it’s like to be ogled. She has been asked endlessly about her naked locker-room sequence in The Undoing, just as he has been reminded of his shirtless scything scene in Poldark. Before that there was his lusted-after vampire in Being Human and his sexy dwarf in The Hobbit — branded a “dwilf” in some quarters — although that “definitely wasn’t the intention”, he says. “I think I just had less prosthetics on my face. My make-up call was 20 minutes and everyone else was sitting in the chair in the morning for three and a half hours. It wasn’t good to be around the other dwarfs in the mornings, that’s for sure.

“I get why people are interested,” he says of the ogling. “It’s just when it keeps coming up.”

We move on. According to a recent survey Cornwall has overtaken London as the most desirable place to live in Britain. Does he think Poldark played a part in that? He laughs. “Maybe we nudged a few people in the right direction. I think people forgot how beautiful that side of the world is. One of the first reviews of Poldark we read was like: ‘We can’t believe that this is our country, it looks like the south of France.’”

Could Poldark return, and would Turner be in it? If they stuck to the chronology of Winston Graham’s books they would have to leap ahead a few years. Maybe he could play an aged-up Ross Poldark in latex and fake paunch? “I don’t know if I’d be keen on the ageing-up thing,” he says. “It never really works. I don’t know whether they need to be too strict with that gap anyway. There’s the possibility someday, maybe. I enjoyed working with everybody on Poldark, from the writers right down to all the cast and crew. It really is like a family. So I’d be open to chat about it. But not for a while.”

Before that he will appear as the apostle Andrew in The Last Planet, the forthcoming biblical epic from Terrence Malick, revered creator of The Thin Red Line and The Tree of Life. Well, he doesn’t know for sure if he will appear. Actors of the calibre of Rachel Weisz, Mickey Rourke and Jessica Chastain have seen their performances in Malick films vanish during editing.

“You want what’s best for the film. And if you don’t fit into it, you don’t fit into it,” Turner says in the tone of hair-shirt devotion that actors tend to use when talking about Malick. With a cast including Ben Kingsley and Mark Rylance as Satan, the movie is meant to tell the story of Jesus through a series of parables. Turner doesn’t really have a clue, though.

“You don’t necessarily know what you’re signing up to. You’re signing up to Terrence Malick,” he says. The director has “a great way of working. Everything is around ‘where is the sun’ at this particular time. That’s our natural light and it’s all we use. So things happen fast. There’s no trailers, hair, make-up, we’re just all together. You don’t know from day to day what you’ll be doing. It’s quite renegade stuff. That’s the way I always wanted to work.”

It’s closer to the immediacy of the theatre, which is where Turner started out. The son of an electrician, Pearse, and an accountant, Eileen, he represented Ireland at ballroom dancing before falling into acting. After studying at the Gaiety School of Acting in Dublin he acted in plays for five years and in 2018 he returned to the stage to rave reviews in Martin McDonagh’s The Lieutenant of Inishmore in the West End. Rave being the operative word — his performance was bracingly unhinged. “I can’t wait to get back to the theatre,” he says. “That’s what we’re looking at probably next.”

Turner’s character in The Lieutenant of Inishmore was an Irish freedom fighter, but he is reluctant to talk about the prospect of Irish reunification (“So I don’t get shot when I get home,” he told one interviewer). Culture is safer ground, and his native country is going through a purple patch with Sally Rooney in literature, Fontaines DC in music and the likes of McDonagh, Jessie Buckley and Denise Gough in drama. “It tends to happen in waves,” Turner says. “Coming out of drama school, Colin Farrell was such a big thing. When these actors really make it you can feel some of their light begin to shine on the industry back home.”

Like Farrell, Turner is an international star, although it has mainly been in period roles: Poldark, Leonardo, Andrew and his breakout turn as the 19th-century poet Dante Gabriel Rossetti in the 2009 series Desperate Romantics. It must be something about the hair.

That could be about to change, though. Toronto often stands in for New York, which suggests that his current mystery project has a contemporary setting. Does he yearn to act in jeans? “Yeah, you’re right,” he says with a laugh. “After Leonardo, I think tights and knee-length boots are out for a while.” Many would beg him to reconsider.

#aidanpics

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captain-ross-poldark · 4 years ago

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Poldark’s Aidan Turner on playing Leonardo da Vinci

Ed Potton

Friday 2 April 2021

Aidan Turner takes on the role of Renaissance polymath LeonardoJUSTIN SUTCLIFFE/EYEVIN

Eight-part series Leonardo has been criticised for warping historyPA

Aidan Turner attended an artist’s boot camp before filming startedVITTORIA FENATI MORACE

With his wife, the American actress Caitlin FitzGeraldREX FEATURES

“I get why people are interested,” he says of the ogling. “It’s just when it keeps coming up.”

Turner with Eleanor Tomlinson in PoldarkMIKE HOGAN

Before that he will appear as the apostle Andrew in The Last Planet, the forthcoming biblical epic from Terrence Malick, revered creator ofThe Thin Red Line and The Tree of Life. Well, he doesn’t know for sure if he will appear. Actors of the calibre of Rachel Weisz, Mickey Rourke and Jessica Chastain have seen their performances in Malick films vanish during editing.

All episodes of Leonardo will be on Amazon from April 16

https://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/poldarks-aidan-turner-on-playing-leonardo-da-vinci-wnmqhxqxr

#Sunday times #aidan turner #Leonardo

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luminescencefics · 4 years ago

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(there is) no time like the present

On his way towards the rest of their friends in the booth by the back of the pub, Niall finally spots Aisling’s auburn hair and glittery dress standing near the wooden table. He’d be lying if he didn’t think she looked quite pretty. Niall’s always known Aisling to be pretty, in a way that he knows that thunder follows lightning during a storm and that the sun always shines the brightest in the summer. It was just a universal thing.

But tonight, he finds that he’s entirely hyperaware of Aisling’s prettiness.

And he isn’t quite sure what to do about that.

A (short) story about a brown-haired boy and an auburn-haired girl trying to convince the world that they aren’t lonely, and how time really isn’t of the essence.

written for the 1dff discord server fic challenge

new year’s eve // roommates trope

niall/ofc, 8k words | banner credit

11:34

In Aisling O’Leary’s twenty-eight years of living, she has known two constants. The first being, she could never say no to people. No matter how hard she tried to, she just couldn’t bring herself to disappoint the people she cared about most in her life. She blames that on her trait of always trying to please people. The second constant is that she was a settler, in every sense of the word.

She settled with her group of friends in secondary school back home in Clifden. She settled when she chose to go to university across the country in Dublin instead of taking the leap and applying to schools in her dream city of London. She settled with her marketing position at a publishing house when her dream was to be an editor. And, she settled with her last boyfriend of two years, Cormac Hayes.

When he decided to end things with her three months ago, Aisling knows that she probably should have been more upset over it. Truth is, she stayed with Cormac for that long because it was easy. He loved her at arm’s length and she was okay with that. He gave her attention and loved her the best way he knew how, and although it wasn’t enough for Aisling in the end, she sort of just let it happen. And when she didn’t even shed a tear over losing her boyfriend of two years, she wasn’t surprised in the least.

That’s just how Aisling O’Leary worked.

She tries her hardest to ignore the constant ringing of her mobile from the inside of her purse under her work desk. It was Friday afternoon and she was practically the only soul in the office because most of her other co-workers decided to take the day off to prepare for this evening’s New Year’s Eve festivities.

Aisling didn’t really think too much about it, to be honest. What did she have to celebrate this past year? The fact that she received an end of the year bonus at her job that she hasn’t enjoyed for the past four years? The fact that she’s single, once again? The fact that she’s still living with her uni mate and putting off her goal of moving to London?

She pushes those thoughts away when an image of said uni mate flashes across the screen of her mobile.

“Niall, for the love of god, please stop ringing me,” Aisling scolds, harshly whispering into the receiver. It’s really no use considering it’s just her and the unlucky intern who couldn’t get the day off, but she does it anyways for dramatic intent.

“As lovely as ever, sweet Aisling,” Niall starts, the sound of whooshing air in the background a bit distracting. Aisling can only assume that he’s walking around outside, the sound of the chilling winter wind blowing through the phone loudly giving him away.

“Sorry, Niall. Just, uh, busy is all.” Aisling lies and Niall doesn’t even try to fall for it. She does feel a little bad for snapping at him, because it’s really not his fault that she’s in such a shit mood. And taking it out on her uni mate turned flatmate turned best mate just wasn’t really fair.

Niall Horan crashed into Aisling’s life during her first year at University College Dublin (the word crashed used very appropriately). She was sitting towards the back of her Art History lecture, a random gen-ed requirement her advisor forced her to take. She chose the back because she assumed she wouldn’t be bothered, but then eight minutes after class began, Niall ran in with flushed cheeks and his freshly bleached blonde hair standing up all over the place. And out of all the empty seats in the entire lecture hall, he chose to sit next to Aisling.

He spent the entirety of the lecture fidgeting in the plastic seat next to Aisling, looking over her shoulder at the notes she was scribbling down aggressively. He didn't even bother to bring a notebook, let alone a pen, to the lecture. Normally, Aisling would find that infuriating. But when it comes to Niall, Aisling has found that most of the things that should bother her just, well, don’t.

“I’m walking into the shops. Everyone’s been texting like mad about tonight, driving me up the fuckin’ wall. Did you put the group chat on mute again?” Niall asks and Aisling doesn’t even bother answering, because of course she did.

It’s not that she didn’t like her uni mates, because they really were the best friends Aisling has ever had. But when they decided amongst themselves that her and Niall’s flat would be the destination for pre-drinks tonight, conveniently leaving Aisling and Niall out of the conversation altogether, she couldn’t help but grow increasingly annoyed.

But in typical Aisling fashion, she just let it happen. She blames it on that first constant of hers.

“Just while I was working. Didn’t want to be distracted,” Aisling decides to say, pausing as she hears the sound of an automatic door opening and closing on Niall’s end. She knows he’s probably completely aware that she’s not that excited about tonight. But in typical Niall fashion, he tries to find the silver lining in every situation—even if he is feeling equally as shitty about this evening.

“Well, you’re probably the only person in all of Ireland working today,” Niall says, a chuckle added at the end to let Aisling know that he’s just messing with her.

“That’s not true. Sean’s here with me, having the time of his life.” Aisling watches the office intern sit at his desk with his head in his hands, clearly hungover and annoyed that he got stuck working the day of New Year’s Eve. She feels a bit bad for the lad, empathetic to his cause.

Niall agrees. “What’re we drinking tonight, Aisling? How ossified do we feel like getting, scale of one to ten?”

Aisling sighs. She knows getting drunk off her arse tonight is probably not the best move to make. But then she starts to think of her friends and how they seem a lot more bearable after a few drinks. She starts to think about the past three months of her life and how she feels like she’s just taking up space. She starts to think about the last phone call she had with her mam, and how she’s suddenly begun to worry about her oldest daughter. She starts to think about her future, and how she’s not really excited about it at all, to be fair.

The more she thinks about it, the more getting completely plastered sounds better and better in her head.

“Whiskey. Lots of it,” Aisling replies, sure and assertive.

“There’s my girl,” Niall says, and she can practically hear the glass bottles being added to the shopping trolley. “I’ll see you when you get home. Let’s just try and have fun tonight, yeah? Forget about all the bullshit.”

Aisling agrees to try her hardest to do that for Niall. But she’s got enough bullshit going on in her life to hold anybody down, and if she’s going to try and get over it, she’s going to need a lot of whiskey to do that.

And some courage—lots of it.

14:08

In Niall Horan’s twenty-eight years of living, he’s known two constants. The first being, he puts too much trust in other people, not nearly guarding his heart the way he should. He’s always fallen too quickly and too harshly, never really thinking of the repercussions. The second constant being that he was always blissfully one step behind everybody else, overlooking hidden clues and secret hints, not really understanding the longing look in another person’s eyes, or why their cheeks heat up around somebody’s presence. He wouldn’t blame that on selfishness, per se, rather, naiveté. If it wasn’t hitting Niall right in the face, chances are he completely missed it.

He’s thinking about his unguarded heart while lining up the various liquor bottles he bought at the shops a few hours ago, creating a makeshift bar on the kitchen countertop. His mind briefly falls to Sheridan, as it does most times when he’s feeling a bit lonely. He thinks about her blonde hair and turquoise eyes and warm pale skin. How she was the most important thing in his life on and off for five years. How he loved her with everything inside of him, and he figured that would be enough.

But then she gets a job offer a world away in America, and she takes it without even looking back. Without even considering how it would affect Niall. Without even including him in the conversation.

He wonders if she’s always been selfish with his heart.

Niall tries his hardest to not think about it. She left Ireland almost nine months ago, and he really has been doing better. He wants nothing more than to forget about this year. It was one filled with heartbreak and anger and pain, and the idea of drinking his sorrows away to start over again is exactly what he needed.

But there’s no denying that Niall Horan is admittedly lonely.

He thinks of Aisling, and how she seems just as lost as he is most of the time. Back in uni she was always the rational one between the pair, always taking notes and showing up to class and making sure that Niall kept his head on straight. When he meets Sheridan at the end of their first year, he remembers instantly thinking that she was the one for him. He blames it on that first constant of his.

Sheridan Walsh was beautiful and rich and, admittedly, so far out of Niall’s league the second he met her at a mutual friend’s house party. She was studying linguistics at Trinity as a hobby, a job at her parent’s enormous investment bank already secured. Her family had an expansive estate in Killiney overlooking Dalkey Island and Niall did everything he could to try and fit into her world.

When he meets her he charms her instantly, and the second he realizes that she was in a different social class than his own, Niall runs into Aisling’s dorm room and begs her to strip the bleach from his hair. He spends Years Two and Three doing everything he can to impress Sheridan, and finally one night she gives in, and he feels as if he’s floating through thin air.

To this day, Niall still isn’t sure what it was about him that made Sheridan finally agree to start dating him. She didn’t approve of his course of study, she found his hometown of Mullingar to be quaint, and she never really understood why he decided to live with Aisling in their too-small flat.

If there’s one thing Niall can appreciate most about his friendship with Aisling (and there’s a lot to be thankful for, to be fair) it’s that she tried her hardest to be nice to Sheridan, even though there would never be a world where the two of them would ever be friends. Aisling showed Niall how to properly knot a tie to prepare him for meeting Sheridan’s parents, she explained to him the difference between an oyster fork and a salad fork whenever he had to go to fancy dinner parties, and she constantly reminded him that he shouldn’t try as hard to fit into Sheridan’s world, because she loved him just the way he was.

If only it were true in the end.

In reality, Niall has a lot to be thankful for when it comes to Aisling O’Leary. He just hopes that he purchased enough whiskey to try and make her enjoy herself for the first time in three months.

17:41

Normally it takes Aisling twenty minutes to get home from her office near O’Connell Street to her and Niall’s shared flat in Ranelagh. But she’s stalling, walking along the River Liffey in the brisk evening weather instead of getting on the bus to start getting ready for tonight.

Niall knows this, as he’s grown accustomed to Aisling whipping open the front door twenty minutes after five, complaining about the crammed rush hour commute while untying her boots and throwing her scarf haphazardly over their wobbly coat hanger. He’s currently watching the clock change from the half hour mark almost nearing quarter to six, debating if he should ring her or not.

As if reading his mind, Aisling shoots Niall a text, assuring him that she’s not avoiding their mates (lie) and that she isn’t contemplating ditching this evening’s festivities (lie) and that she’s stopping at the nearest shop to grab snacks for their friends (half-lie turned truth). Niall doesn’t bother telling her that their friends already agreed to bring food over, because he knows Aisling better than she knows herself sometimes. Instead, he writes, Do what you need to do, A. I’ve got a drink waiting for you when you get home xx, and Aisling starts to feel a bit more at ease.

It’s near six when Aisling appears with a shopping bag filled with crackers and the nicest assortment of cheese she could find last minute. Niall can hear her usual foot pattern by the front door while he starts pouring the two of them whiskey neats in the nice glasses Sheridan re-gifted him two Christmases ago.

“Sorry I was late. The shops were brutal, too many people banging about. Couldn’t even find the good cheese Cara likes,” Aisling says, entering the kitchen with a smile headed in Niall’s direction. He watches as she starts putting the items into the fridge and respective cupboards, avoiding making eye contact.

“If you turned your mobile on every now and then, you’d have seen that Cara and Robbie already got food for tonight,” Niall says, sliding Aisling’s drink across the kitchen counter.

Aisling gives Niall a sheepish look. “Right. I was just—”

“—Busy.” Niall gives Aisling a look she knows all too well, and she immediately feels guilty, slumping down in the chair across from him. “Your mam rang me earlier. Was wondering why her lovely daughter wasn’t answering her calls.”

Aisling chuckles softly, bringing the glass to her lips. “Ah, of course she did. Sometimes I think she rings you because she likes you a bit too much.”

“What can I say? Mam’s love me—especially yours,” Niall says with a grin, puffing his chest out a bit.

Aisling snorts. “Did she say anything of interest this time ‘round?”

“Just went on about how your da can’t find a proper barmaid for tonight,” Niall says, the mention of Aisling’s family’s pub in Clifden bringing a nostalgic smile to her face. “She might have also mentioned that she’s worried about you.”

Aisling frowns. “Worried?”

Niall nods cautiously. “Yeah. She thinks you're lonely.”

Aisling pauses for a moment, watching the amber liquid inside her cup slosh with each swivel of the glass on the countertop. She really hates that word—lonely. To Aisling, loneliness implies the absence of something. How can she miss a feeling she’s never even truly felt in the first place? The only thing Aisling has felt for the past few years has been complacency. And that’s one she’d love to shed with the new year.

“Well, she’s nothing to worry about. ‘M not lonely,” Aisling mumbles, downing the rest of her drink with one large gulp.

Niall cocks an eyebrow in her direction. “That’s exactly what a lonely person would say.”

It’s one of those rare moments when Aisling can’t tell if Niall is taking the piss or genuinely concerned. But with one look in his blue eyes, Aisling decides to go with the latter.

“I promise you, Niall, I’m not lonely. It’s been three months. I barely even think about Cormac anymore, so quit your worrying,” Aisling counters, beginning to pour herself another glass, this time a bit shorter.

“You never even thought about him to begin with,” Niall quips, finishing his drink as well. “That’s what I’m worried about.”

Aisling doesn’t really know how to answer that, because there’s no denying that Niall is absolutely correct. She just isn’t quite sure how to explain to her best mate that she never truly felt heartbreak in the same capacity that he did. Cormac ending things with Aisling did not shatter her heart the same way that Sheridan did to Niall’s.

Aisling starts to wonder if there’s something wrong with this so-called heart of hers.

“I think I saw it coming before it actually happened, ya know?” Aisling begins to explain. “I think I knew Cormac wasn’t the one for me. It made the blow less harsh, in a way.” It’s a version of the truth that both Niall and Aisling can settle on. And she can tell that he’s understanding as he nods through his final swallow of whiskey.

“Just want you to be happy, is all,” Niall says, placing his empty glass on the countertop. “It’s the beauty of New Years, my sweet Aisling. You can start fresh.”

Aisling just smiles, finishing her glass as well. “Let’s hope you’re right.”

And this time, she truly hopes he is.

19:22

Aisling is starting to think that it’s far too early for her friends to be this inebriated.

It’s barely half past seven and her friends had started to arrive nearly an hour earlier. After her unsettling conversation with Niall, Aisling resorted to locking herself in her bedroom with the excuse of getting ready. Instead, she sat in the shower for far too long until the hot water turned cold, building up the courage to just try and let loose for one fucking night.

The second she hears Cara and Robbie enter the flat, Aisling immediately fights the urge to down another whiskey neat.

There was a time when Aisling believed that Cara and Robbie would be the first pair out of their uni group to get married. They had been together ever since Aisling lived next door to Cara in the dorms during her first year at UCD. And while everybody else had seemingly tried to grow up during the past seven years, Cara and Robbie seemed content in their post-uni bubble.

Aisling was pretty sure that bubble should have been popped some time after their twenty-fifth birthdays.

“Oi! Aisy! Pass me a fresh Smithwick while you’re at it!” Conor hollers over from the small loveseat in the living room when he notices Aisling heading towards the fridge for a new drink.

She nods, biting her tongue at the ridiculous nickname that he hasn’t stopped calling her since Year Two. Aisling’s just happy he isn’t calling her feek anymore.

If Aisling had the choice, she would never have had Conor worm his way into the inner-workings of their unusual friend group. But alas, Conor came along with Niall, and if Aisling wanted to keep Niall in her life (which she very much would like to), then she had to suck it up and deal with his unruly best mate.

Aisling passes Conor the freshly opened bottle of beer, smiling politely at the pretty brown-haired girl seated to his right. According to Niall, Conor’s been bringing her along to their group pub outings for a few weeks now. Aisling promised to remember her name if she stuck around for another month. Conor had a bad habit of flying through girls, and it became harder with each new face to remember their names.

Aisling heads back into the kitchen to start preparing the cheeseboard, watching in her periphery as a long slender red-painted finger reaches out to snatch a stray cracker hanging off the side of the tray.

“Wait your turn like everybody else, Han,” Aisling scolds, ignoring the snicker her friend makes in between bites of the cracker.

“Sorry mum, you know how I get if I don’t eat something before drinking,” Hannah says, her Scouse accent already beginning to muddle together. Aisling does her best to keep her eye roll to herself.

“It’s too early for you to be slurring. Lay off the drink until we get to the pub, okay?” Aisling responds, reaching out to grab the half-finished vodka tonic in Hannah’s shaky hands. She tosses it aside, hopefully long forgotten by the time Hannah finishes eating something.

She watches Hannah nod her head agreeably, before sneaking another cracker off of the plate. This time, Aisling doesn’t scold her.

“I’m sorry you’re ringing in the New Year all by yourself,” Hannah says after Aisling has a sip of her drink. “Shite being alone, innit?”

There’s that word again. Alone. Aisling shrugs half-heartedly even though she doesn’t really agree with Hannah’s logic. Even if she tried to explain it to her, she knows she wouldn’t understand it. While Hannah’s been a great friend to Aisling over the years, she’s admittedly been quite selfish. Therefore, Aisling tries not to burden her with matters of the heart.

Niall overhears the conversation when he walks into the kitchen with Hannah’s boyfriend Rory, and immediately he starts to feel a bit guilty.

Aisling and Cormac would never have met if it weren’t for Niall. They both played together in Niall's men’s league for footie, and he thought that they would be a good match together. So when he gave Cormac his flatmate’s number one night after practice and a week later they went out to dinner, Niall really believed that he did Aisling a solid.

Now though, he feels a bit shitty.

“What’re you two gossiping about?” Rory asks, slinging an arm over Hannah’s pointy shoulders, unaware of the awkward tension left hanging in the kitchen from Hannah’s previous comment.

“Nothing, babe. Just sad that Aisling won’t have a New Year’s kiss,” Hannah says, the backhanded dig flying completely over her head. Aisling feels it though, and so does Niall, who immediately steps in.

“Keep drinkin’ like that Hannah and you might not make it to midnight for a kiss this year either.” The lightness of his tone makes it seem to Hannah and Rory that he’s just joking with them, but Aisling knows Niall, and she can hear the undercurrent of frustration laced between his words. So when she lifts her head up and looks at him and already finds that he’s staring right back at her, she smiles a bit, mouthing a quick thank you in his direction.

Sometimes, she’s really lucky to have a friend like Niall.

21:43

Niall slams down his second shot of whiskey since entering the pub nearly thirty minutes ago, and he’s finally starting to feel that type of drunkenness where everything seems a bit lighter and everybody seems a lot happier. They’ve chosen a pub in Parnell Square in favor over the crowded pubs in the Temple Bar area, and he’s happy with their choice considering the pub is filled with twenty-somethings instead of the usual younger, rowdier crowd.

After the incident in the kitchen, Niall finds himself keeping a closer watch on Aisling. While he knows the past few months have been quite hard on her, he didn’t realize how apathetic some of their mates were. He also didn’t notice how sad it made her.

He wonders if she’s always felt like this, and he’s always just been too wrapped up in his own sadness to notice her own.

Regretfully, he blames that second constant of his.

“Oi, Horan! Drink up!” Conor yells over from his left, another shot of whiskey waiting for him on the bartop. Niall tears his eyes away from Aisling, instead focusing on the overflowing shot glass in front of him. He gulps, already mentally preparing to slow down in order to keep his wits about him until midnight approaches.

Niall shoots the drink back, slamming the glass onto the sticky bartop and wiping the back of his hand over his lips. He can hear Conor cackling beside him, and he tries to ignore the elbow digging into his ribcage. He tries to find Aisling’s wavy auburn hair through the crowd, or even her sparkly long-sleeved dress, but it’s no use. She’s too far out of his view.

“Are you lookin’ to pull?” Conor asks smugly after noticing Niall’s gaze flittering over the other side of the pub.

“Nah mate. Not tonight,” Niall replies, the thought of pulling a random girl for the night sounding entirely unappealing.

Conor turns towards his friend, putting his back to his pretty date. “Niall, tonight’s the perfect night for a random lay. C’mon mate, it’s New Years! Every single bird here is looking for an easy shag. It’s been months anyways, what’re you waiting for? Sheri’s not comin’ back.”

Niall tries his hardest not to flinch at his friend’s words. He knows deep down that if he really wanted to sleep with a random girl for the night, he could. And earlier, he probably would have done just that to cure his loneliness. But now the thought of doing just that sort of makes his skin crawl a little.

Including the fact that he can’t stop trying to find his flatmate in the crowded pub. But he’s not quite sure what that means.

“Fuck off Conor. I know she’s not coming back.” Niall’s annoyed that his friend decided to bring Sheridan up. He just wishes everybody would stop fucking bringing her up.

Conor just shrugs. “Then why aren’t you lookin’ for an easy lay?”

Niall’s grip on his whiskey coke is so tight that his knuckles turn white. He grits his teeth before taking a long sip, before giving his stupid friend one last annoyed look. “Because sex isn’t the answer to everything.” And with that, Niall walks away.

“It sure helps though, prick!” Conor shouts from his place at the bar, and Niall just shakes his head, ignoring him.

But tonight, he finds that he’s entirely hyperaware of Aisling’s prettiness.

He’s watching the way her head falls back when a loud laugh rips through her lungs, her long auburn hair falling past her shoulders, catching the dim pub lighting in a way that stops Niall dead in his tracks. The sparkles in her shift dress glitter with every bend of her knees or swivel of her hips, and Niall tries his hardest to keep his eyes off of Aisling’s lower half. Her eyes have that glow to them that only happens when she feels totally comfortable, and he’s wondering if it’s genuine or if the liquor is helping mask her unease surrounding tonight.

Before he’s caught, Niall pulls himself together and approaches the group.

“Niall!” Aisling squeals once he’s entered the small half-huddle the girls in the group have formed. She’s leaning in, a bit unsteady on her chunky heels, and Niall can feel the whiskey warmth of her breath fan over his cheeks. She’s definitely drunk, Niall thinks, securing an arm around her middle so Aisling doesn’t end up arse over tit on the dirty pub floor.

“Somebody’s havin’ fun,” Niall pushes through a grin, his arms tightening around her waist once Aisling presses two small hands on his shoulders to steady herself. She giggles and it sounds like the prettiest song he’s ever heard.

“Wasn’t it you who told me to drink away all the bullshit?” Aisling asks, finishing the rest of her drink, her head falling back on her neck dramatically as she swallows. Niall chuckles, grabbing the empty glass from her shaky fingers before it slips and cracks on the floor.

“Might’ve. But slow your roll, sweet Aisling. Still three hours left until midnight,” Niall tuts, smiling a bit when she huffs out in disappointment, her lower lip jutting out in a pout. He finds it incredibly adorable.

“Don’t leave me alone with these eejits then! They’re the ones forcing drinks down me throat!” Aisling calls out, pointing a skinny finger towards Cara and Robbie who look responsible. Her Western accent grows much stronger with each level of intoxication Aisling passes, and Niall knows that if she continues he’s going to start struggling piecing together what she’s trying to say.

So he laughs, removing his arm around her waist and throwing it around her shoulders instead, pulling her closer to his chest so that his chin rests above the crown of her head.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got ya,” Niall says, and Aisling smiles back, squeezing his hand that dangles in front of her chest tightly in thanks.

Niall squeezes back, thinking that if he had to spend the next three hours with her, he wouldn’t mind at all. He especially wouldn’t mind it if Aisling was still tucked under his arm once midnight struck.

23:38

Aisling has spent the last twenty minutes holding Cara’s curly hair back while she retches into the toilet. She stopped drinking about an hour ago once she noticed the pallor beneath Cara’s copper skin, knowing it was only a matter of time until she grew sick.

And just like clockwork, with an hour to go until midnight, Cara grabbed Aisling with shaky hands and dragged her to the toilet before vomiting into the porcelain basin below. Aisling rubs her friend’s back, wrapping her curly hair around her wrists to make sure the coiled tendrils stay vomit-free.

She wishes the night didn’t have to end like this.

But it seems to always happen whenever she’s around Cara. As much as Aisling loves her, she can’t help but wonder if this is how it’ll always be with her friend. She wonders when she’ll finally just grow up.

Once again, Aisling has to give up her night in order to make sure Cara’s isn’t ruined.

Cara moans under her and Aisling snaps out of her miserable state, asking her friend if she was okay and if she needed anything. Cara shakes her head, albeit still unsteady on her feet as she slowly hobbles over towards the sink. Aisling sighs for what feels like the hundredth time, wishing her friend would stop being so stubborn.

Before they leave the toilets, Aisling dampens some paper towels and blots it over Cara’s sticky forehead. Her friend swats at her wrists angrily, snatching the wet paper towels from Aisling’s hands and throwing it into the rubbish bin.

“‘M wearing foundation Aisling! Christ, yer gonna fuck it up!” Cara scolds, walking past her friend and fixing what’s left of her mangled curls into a topknot.

Aisling just frowns, wishing her friend would be a bit kinder to her considering she did just spend the better part of her evening holding her hair back and listening to her retch into a shitty public toilet.

“Sorry,” Aisling mumbles, because she knows she could never yell at her friend no matter how angry she makes her. Aisling would rather not rock the boat, so instead she just lets Cara take out her frustrations on her. She’s been doing it for the past seven years anyways, why stop now?

Cara says nothing. Instead, she irons out her black dress with her hands and leaves the toilets, heading towards their group of friends in the back of the pub. Aisling watches her go, taking a few seconds to herself to just breathe.

If Aisling were a different person, she probably would have told Cara off for acting like a Grade A Bitch. She would tell her to stop being so selfish, to stop making everything about her, to stop acting like such a fucking child.

But Aisling is not that person.

So instead she shakes those words from her head, focusing on regulating her breathing and making sure the redness in her cheeks goes away. She wishes she was the same level of drunkenness she happened to be a few hours ago, where everything seemed a bit more bearable and she wasn’t focusing on the shittier parts of her friendships.

When she emerges from the hallway, she spots Niall immediately. She’s found that he’s always standing a bit closer to her than normal, always making sure she’s okay and that she’s enjoying herself. She’s grateful for it, if she’s being honest, because out of everybody in this crowded pub, she’s happy that it’s Niall who’s standing by her side.

She watches as his brown hair flops over his forehead, hanging around his face in a messy boyish way. He looks handsome with his white button down shirt tucked into his navy blue houndstooth dress pants. When he turns a bit so he can laugh at whatever obscene joke Conor just made, she can see the way the shirtsleeves tighten around his flexed bicep, and the way his waist looks thinner when he swivels his hip, and the way his arse arches in his new pants.

Aisling is immediately transported back to a time when every movement Niall made would make her blush uncontrollably. When his hair was blonder and his laugh was louder and he wasn’t as muscley—when he would barge into her dorm room at all hours of the day and show up at Aisling’s library table and doodle notes and scribbles on her coursework. When she found herself crushing on her first ever real uni mate, when she tried her hardest to ignore it, until it ultimately faded as the years passed on.

But sometimes, in moments like this, the feelings would shoot straight into her chest like a lightning strike, and she finds herself struggling for air. It usually happened in fleeting moments—typically when he laughed so hard his blue eyes scrunched, or he held her really tightly whenever she had a bad day, and especially when he called her sweet Aisling.

And just like that, the moment is gone, leaving just as quickly as it came. As if noticing her absence (something that he’s been doing a lot of tonight), blue eyes meet hazel and he cocks his head in concern, the silent question of Are you okay? floating through the air until it stops right in Aisling’s path.

She nods her head and it’s entirely unconvincing. But before Niall could leave their friends and approach Aisling, she gestures towards the bar with a small smile, insinuating she was going to grab a new drink. Niall just nods, staring at her as she approaches the bartop.

As soon as she feels the heat of his gaze leave her back, Aisling orders a water. Suddenly, she doesn’t want to be here anymore, the dreaded feelings she had earlier in the day flooding her insides without warning. She doesn’t give a fuck about midnight anymore, doesn’t give a fuck about watching her mates cheers to the start of a new year.

She just wants to leave.

23:55

Niall turns away from his conversation with Conor, wondering why Aisling hasn’t returned to their spot in the back of the pub. He watched her head towards the bar almost ten minutes ago, and he’s not quite sure if there’s something wrong.

He’s reminded back to the lifeless look in her eyes when she left the toilets with Cara moments ago, and he instantly feels his stomach drop a little at the thought of something bad happening to her. Did they get into a fight? Did Cara say something to upset her? Where the fuck is she?

“Cara, where’s Aisling?” Niall asks, leaning into her ear to talk over the loud music. He cranes his neck towards the bar where he last saw her, and finds that her auburn hair is no longer in view.

Cara shrugs her shoulders, looking less than interested in this conversation. “Dunno, mate. Fucked off in the jacks ‘coupla minutes ago.” Niall scrunches his nose at the lingering smell of bile on her breath.

“What’d you do?” Niall knows that his tone is a bit accusatory, but he feels like an idiot for not realizing that Aisling was upset sooner. He’s instantly brought back to the kitchen when Hannah hurt her feelings, and Niall’s left wondering if he’s as much of a prick as their friends have been lately.

“Oh, fuck off Niall,” Cara starts, laughing even though it’s not funny. “Did nothin’! She probably just doesn’t wanna be ‘ere durin’ midnight ‘cos she’s single and all.”

Niall knows that isn’t true. He also knows that if Cara had asked Aisling herself, she would know that Aisling could give less of a shit about being single.

Niall’s suddenly left with the unwavering thought that maybe nobody has asked Aisling how she’s truly felt in a long time.

Before he can reply, he notices the countdown start to begin, and suddenly he doesn't want to be around his friends at all.

He wants to find Aisling.

23:59

Aisling can hear the ten second countdown from her spot outside the pub, leaning against the cold brick wall, cooling her down from the inside out. Her winter coat is still clenched in her right hand, the heat of her anger keeping her warm against the evening breeze.

Her eyes are closed tight and she’s trying her hardest not to cry. Aisling knows it’s stupid—crying over her friends who didn’t even spare her a second glance when she stormed out of the pub door. She doesn’t want to blame them, because even though they can be selfish and unaware of her sadness, Aisling has let it slide for far too long. She’s starting to think that her friends have grown accustomed to her knack of shrugging things off her shoulder, and she really only has herself to blame.

Aisling sighs as she hears the countdown end, the sounds of celebration reverberating through the thick brick. She’s ringing in this new year alone, as it seems, and she wonders if she’s part to blame for it.

She wonders why she’s never spoken up when her friends overlook her feelings and say hurtful things about her. Aisling knows that they aren’t intentional, and that her friends don’t truly mean to hurt her feelings, but part of her wishes they would just understand.

She wonders why she’s never been bold enough to go after the job she actually wanted. Why she stays working her shitty desk job day after day, losing interest in everything around her. Why she never acted on that job listing she received an email from in London, why she never even tried to move there in the first place.

She wonders why she’s wasted so much time trying to find love in boys who can never offer her what she truly needs. Why even though Cormac was a sound lad, she knew he wasn’t right for her, but the thought of leaving him was much more difficult than staying, so she chose the easier option.

Aisling wishes she was the type of person to speak up, to act on what she wants, to simply be better.

But she isn’t.

So she sinks down to the cool pavement below her, her neck stretched upwards as her head rests on the brick wall. Her eyes are still closed shut, and she thinks that if she keeps them closed, she can squeeze out the girl she so badly wants to get rid of.

She thinks that when she opens her eyes again, she’ll be a new person. The person she wants to be.

00:03

Niall finally finds Aisling outside, her head resting against the wall upturned towards the night sky. Her eyes are closed and Niall’s eyes are trained on her long ivory neck, and he wonders what would have happened if he came out here just as the clock struck midnight.

He shakes that thought from his head, because she looks so small. So unsure. So sad.

Aisling doesn’t look at Niall until he’s sitting near her with his warm hand resting on her bent knee. He’s looking at her as her eyes flutter open, hazel eyes glassy from the tears threatening to fall. He knows Aisling though—knows her so well that she won’t let them fall, no matter how badly she wants to.

She offers Niall a weak smile, and he’s sitting close enough that he can see her bottom lip wobble. It makes him angry.

“Ready to get out of here?” Niall asks softly, ignoring the millions of other questions he wants to ask her. He knows how fragile she is. How adamant she is about not explaining her feelings, so he takes the easy way out even though it kills him to do so.

Aisling smiles at him, a little stronger than before. “Please.”

Niall doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he stands up, grabbing her winter coat in one hand and her smaller hand in the other. Once she’s standing in front of him, close enough that he can feel her shaky breath on his neck, he holds open her coat and buttons her up.

“Let’s go.”

00:52

Niall and Aisling have been sitting around the kitchen island, a half-finished bottle of whiskey on the countertop between them. Aisling’s heels are discarded somewhere near the front door, her feet resting on the unoccupied stool to Niall’s left. He’s rubbing her shins in between pulls of liquor, his navy blazer thrown over the couch, the top few buttons of his crisp white shirt opened to show his patch of chest hair.

They haven’t really said much in the fifteen minutes they’ve been home. Niall knows when to bite, and he knows that getting Aisling reacquainted with whiskey will make the conversation a lot easier.

So they sit. And he jokes. And she smiles.

It’s only after Niall says something stupid that makes Aisling snort—something that should be completely unattractive to most but Niall finds it incredible endearing—that her words make Niall’s heart stop.

“God, now I remember why I had such a crush on you in uni,” Aisling says after a pull of whiskey.

Niall stops his laughing, eyes immediately going wide. “Wait, what?”

“Oi, quit being an eejit,” she says with a roll of her hazel eyes. “Don’t act surprised, everybody knew.”

But Niall can’t help it. He is surprised.

Why hadn’t anybody told him? More so, why hadn’t she told him?

Was he really the only person who didn’t know?

“Aisling, why didn’t you tell me?” Niall asks, his voice void of teasing. He’s honest and when she looks deep into his ocean eyes, Aisling realizes that she probably shouldn’t have mentioned the crush she had on him in uni seven years ago.

“I genuinely thought you knew. Christ Niall, everybody knew,” she whispers, placing the whiskey bottle back on the table separating them.

“I just—I,” Niall’s confused. And overwhelmed. And slightly angry with himself. “Just wish I knew, is all.”

“Why? It wouldn’t have changed anything, Niall. It was years ago. And you were with Sheri. It really isn’t a big deal, I shouldn’t have said anything—”

“—Don’t do that,” Niall says abruptly, cutting her off.

Aisling’s eyes widen, mirroring Niall’s. “Do what?”

Niall huffs in response, running a frustrated hand through his messy hair. “Act like your feelings don’t matter. They do. And I just—fuck, I dunno, Aisling. I just wish I fucking knew.”

“Why, what would you have done?” Aisling asks, repeating herself, half out of annoyance and half out of sheer curiosity. She truly wishes she just kept her fucking mouth shut.

“Who knows,” Niall says, grabbing the whiskey bottle for himself and pouring it down his throat. “Probably would have spared myself the heartache of dating a girl who could give less of a shit about me. But hey, the past is in the past. New year and all that. New beginnings or summat.” He holds up the bottle in a false cheers, his eyes dull and harsh.

Aisling’s replaying what he said earlier over and over in her head, watching as her best mate continues to gulp back whiskey.

Act like your feelings don’t matter.

Has she been doing that for years now? Acting like her feelings are insignificant, like everybody else’s feelings are more important than hers? Like every thought she has is just her completely overthinking everything?

She reaches out and grabs the bottle from Niall’s lips, placing it on the countertop in front of them with a gentle thud.

“It’s not that I don’t think my feelings matter,” Aisling starts, her voice a small mumble. “It’s just—nobody bothers to ask. I’m always helping everybody else with their problems, and it’s not that I don't want to, because I’d do it for anybody. I’m just different, I suppose. I keep things in, because sometimes the things I try and say are just shit, if I’m being honest. So I don’t really say anything.”

Niall sighs sadly, reaching across the countertop for Aisling’s hand instead of the whiskey bottle.

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Niall starts, a sad look on his face. “I’m sorry I never bother to ask sometimes. It’s just, fuck Aisling, you’re just hard to read sometimes. And it’s so frustrating ‘cos you’re my best mate, yeah? I care about you so much.” Niall’s thumbs are brushing against Aisling’s hands and she tries her hardest not to shudder. “Hate when you keep things in. Need you to tell me, yeah?”

Aisling nods and she prays that Niall keeps his hands in hers.

“‘M sorry too, Niall. Care about you, too. Quite a bit.” Aisling is wondering if she’s imagining Niall leaning closer towards her, or if she just wants it to happen so badly that she’s conjuring it up in her own head.

Sitting across from Aisling in their tiny kitchenette, Niall wonders if he’s ever truly thought about kissing her before tonight. Sure, Aisling’s always been beautiful. And sure, she’s been one of his closest mates ever since they first moved in together. But as he sits here, watching the way her skin glows from the overhead lights, watching the way she’s slowly leaning in towards him, he’s really thinking about it.

So he leans in, too.

And he kisses her.

01:14

When they break apart, Aisling feels as if she’s on fire. Her forearms are balancing her upper body on the countertop, and Niall’s longer arms are holding her elbows tightly. Blue eyes meet hazel and their faces are so close that Aisling’s eyelashes are tickling the apples of Niall’s cheeks.

They’re breathing each other in before Aisling’s hand wraps around the back of Niall’s neck and she’s bringing his lips against hers for another searing kiss.

He reacts almost instantly, bringing one hand away from her elbow and up to her cheek, slotting his bottom lip over her top lip and holding back a groan from the back of his throat.

They break apart again, the edge of the counter digging into Aisling’s chest in an uncomfortable way. She sits back against the chair on her knees, her breathing labored and eyes blown wide. Niall’s staring at her, taking in her rosy cheeks and her messy hair, her swollen lips and huffing chest.

He thinks she’s the prettiest thing he’s seen all night. (Even though he knew that to begin with, to be fair).

So he stands up, holding an outstretched hand towards her body, giving her a boyish grin to which she returns instantly. “C’mere.”

Aisling practically jumps into his arms then, leaning her entire torso onto his with her arms wrapped securely around his neck. She can feel Niall’s forearms against the small of her back, and she’s standing on the tips of her toes in order to press her lips fully against his.

Niall squeezes against her hips and Aisling gasps, her mouth opening against his allowing him to lap his tongue against her own. It’s everything and more, and the sound exploding from the back of his throat practically causes Aisling to melt against his chest.

His hand is knotted into her hair, pulling back slightly so that she can reach his mouth. Aisling slowly starts to back Niall up against the wall adjacent to the hallway, and with that support he can run his hands down her back and against her bum, squeezing the skin through her glittery dress. When he pulls away for a breath, Aisling starts to kiss down the hollow of his throat, sucking a lovebite against the juncture of his neck and shoulder, causing Niall to rock his hips against hers.

“Christ Aisling,” Niall says through a strained breath, his head falling back against the wall when she blows over the fresh mark on his skin.

She steps away cautiously, her eyes wide in anxiousness. Was she doing too much? Niall practically whines when the warmth of her body leaves his own far too quickly, and his arms stretch out to bring her back to him.

“Is it too much? We can stop and forget that it even—”

“—What? Christ, who’s being the eejit now? Don’t leave,” Niall rushes out frantically, pulling Aisling flush against his chest to continue what they were doing before she left.

Aisling giggles into his mouth and it’s probably the sweetest sound he’s ever heard (a close second to her groaning into his mouth earlier). Before she can retreat again, he begins walking them backwards until she’s pushed up against the wall separating their bedrooms.

He breaks away and looks at her with a cocked eyebrow, a smirk growing against his strawberry swollen lips. “Mine or yours, sweet Aisling?”

Aisling laughs a bit, her arms still locked around his neck. Her hands are playing with the hair against the back of his neck, and he’s practically purring at the feeling of it. Without really thinking much (because how could she with the way he was looking at her?) she grabs the closest doorknob to her (which so happens to be hers) and opens it swiftly, dragging Niall by his forearms into the room until the backs of her knees hit her mattress and she’s falling into it with a gentle thud.

It’s all tangled limbs and pulled hair and knocking teeth, and they both could never have imagined their night ending this way. Niall practically rips the hidden zipper of Aisling’s dress off (“Sorry babe, can’t stop thinkin’ about what you look like under it”), Aisling tears through the remaining buttons on his white dress shirt, running her fingers through the hair on his chest causing him to groan against her neck (“Do you like that, Niall?”), Niall flips them over and when he’s leaning over her staring at Aisling hungrily in her cute little matching underwear set, he’s practically drooling at the mouth (“Dear god Aisling, you’re beautiful”), and when they’re both stripped down to nothing but skin and Niall’s leaning on his forearms over her, pushing into her with one swift breath, Aisling can feel herself falling apart inside (“Christ Niall, you’re everything”).

And when it’s all over and done with and they’re both lying against each other, breathing in and out, Aisling suddenly has a realization.

Truth is, maybe her and Niall were alone. But, for one night at least, they could forget about that. Why be alone by yourself when you could be alone together?

So with that thought, she cuddles deeper into Niall’s chest, feeling his hand tread through her auburn hair softly. Before she drifts off, he presses a kiss to the crown of her head, mumbling a quiet Happy New Year, sweet Aisling into her hair.

And when she mutters it back to him, sealing it with a kiss to his collarbone, she actually believes it for once.

That it was, truly, a very happy New Year (in the end).

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secondhandnewsradio · 3 years ago

Text

SHN INTERVIEW: Sleep Walking Animals

by Claire Silverman

photo: Ryan Hall

Sleep Walking Animals, the indie-folk alternative rock band from Manchester, England, have just released their self-titled debut EP. Since SHN first interviewed the band at the start of the year, they have released two more singles, started playing live shows again as restrictions opened up, and have announced a co-headlining tour around the UK in October. At their EP launch gig at the Fiddler’s Elbow in Camden on the 20th of September, they performed their new music to a sold out crowd.

CS: Congrats on the EP coming out. When we spoke back in February, you mentioned your plans for the EP, so it’s very exciting that it’s here now. How are you all feeling?

Tom: Like it's about time.

Jack: “Angus�� Fool.” “Wild Folk,” and “Dance Laura Dance” are on the EP, so we started recording this EP in October 2019. So it's been a big process, and the EP is kind of about that process.

Tom: We didn't want to release things until we were happy with everything, because we did record enough songs back in 2019 to go on an EP. But in post [production], we were a little bit concerned that they weren't all up to the standard that we wanted. It was our first time in a studio together as well when we recorded those songs, so we needed to practice, we needed to get together more and get more experienced in the studio. Then we ended up going up to Stockport and using a studio called Green Velvet Studios and we laid down five tracks, three of which are on the EP.

Jack: So, yes, excited.

photo: Ryan Hall

CS: Is there an overarching theme across the EP?

Tom: It feels like it's very much about things that have happened to us in the time it took to put the EP together, and things that have inspired us enough to write about, you know, various introductions to people, to new experiences, illnesses, life events that sparked something within us to try to make a good song out of.

Jack: The whole EP spans across when we started the band in 2018 right up to now, so a lot of the songs are about growth and change. But the songs are about our growth musically as well, which is a nice kind of coincidence.

Tom: “Angus’ Fool” was the first song we ever wrote together, so the EP spans from our first song together to things we were writing in lockdown. So like Jack said it’s a span of two and a half years.

Alex: “Native” was written after we played Farm Fest [this summer].

CS: So now that you have more music out and have started to establish your sound, how did you figure out what genre of music you wanted to make?

Alex: It's funny, you just mentioned “Native” and I think that was the point that pushed us to fatten up the sound a little bit. I mean, the style of the song made us realize that we can push it a little bit more. And we have a few like one recorded songs, which are definitely a lot more rock-y.

Tom: We're inspired by all sorts of different bands as well. And, you hear it said a lot but a lot of great artists steal from other great artists and that's how they become great, so we're taking influences from people that we all listen to. So this is why it's hard whenever anybody asks “so what kind of genre of music do you play?” I can never really answer that because it’s changing all the time.

Jack: But I was saying to Bill the other day, (he's not officially in the band yet but he kind of is. He's the drummer who played with us on Monday) we've never really spoken about what genre we want to write. We didn't speak about influences, particularly.

Tom: We're just going with ideas. We all have our own little pockets of interest that we bring to the table and I think that’s what makes out sound quite unique

Alex: When someone brings something and then all of a sudden there's so many layers on top of it, which are coming from all kinds of different directions. And it's just hard to put your finger on what it actually is. But it's cool and we like it.

photo: Ryan Hall

CS: It seems as though COVID restrictions are kind of mostly lifted here in England. At least, concerts are happening again. What's that been like, through the pandemic till now, and being able to play live shows again?

Tom: It’s been a massive relief, really, it means that we can get out there and get some gigging experience, start playing our stuff live. It's a completely different beast to be in the studio, it’s a completely different skill to have. And the more we do it, the more we’ll improve, and the more people will respond well to our gigs. There is such a massive impact from a live gig that you don't get from sitting down and putting your headphones in and listening to the Spotify track. You get the performance, you get the live engagement with music, and with the people on stage. That's just palpable.

CS: Since you're all performers, you're all actors, how do you think your other stage experience impacts your music?

Jack: That's an interesting one. Because I think the three of us are definitely coming out of acting and want to follow music, solely. Obviously, Tom, you both really well. [Laughter] And Nuwan’s also still following both. It's just something that when we are playing live, and it's going well, and there aren’t any technical issues, that we can just give ourselves completely to that moment. And I think that's easier for someone who has trained to do that, which is kind of what we did at drama school, I guess, to give yourself to the moment,

Tom: Yeah, there are great artists and performers, actors, musicians who haven't haven't gone through a formal training process. I think it's actually more important than training. Personally, I find the two things very different, being onstage as a member of Sleep Walking Animals and being on stage or on screen and being an actor in a role. I think the only similarity for me really, is the fact that when we go on stage as Sleep Walking Animals, I feel myself put on a character. I'm not Tom, I’m whatever else that is.

Jack: John. [Laughter]

Tom: I think we all do that whether we realize it or not. Because we'd be crippled with anxiety and insecurity and all the other horrid things that sort of flood into you when you're onstage performing in any way, you know, those don't happen or they sort of diminish if you put on that guise. So I guess that helps in that sort of transition.

photo: Claire Silverman

CS: You mentioned Farm Fest a bit earlier. What was it and how did it come about? And how was it?

Tom: So Farm Fest is a new, upstart festival that myself and my girlfriend Lottie host and organized. It's on her childhood farm and it's something that Lottie had wanted to do for a long time, to use that land to provide a space for a festival, entertainment, camping. We started it a couple years ago. There was that little bit of time between lockdowns where we got a weird freedom in the summer of 2020 and people felt like it had kind of gone away. Luckily, we all collectively know a bunch of musicians and comedians. It started small and then this year, we did it again. We charged a bit more money for tickets, and we are getting bigger and better. It feels like it's sort of gaining a bit of momentum. And it was the highlight of our year, we got to perform on a mainstage with a great sound set up. For us it was a big crowd to play to who all knew the songs and were singing along. It felt like a real festival, right.

CS: You guys are pretty active on social media, at least on the Sleep Walking Animals account. You guys don't always take things super seriously, which I like. What’s your approach to using social media? What do you think of it?

Jack: I wish we didn't have to. I think we probably all do realize the importance of it because Instagram is pretty much the only way of promoting anything, which is so fucking sad. Yeah. And I thought today, because Joe and I are reading a book about Joy Division and the start of the punk scene stuff, and they didn't even have t-shirts, because they wanted to stick it to the man and that kind of thing. But you just can't do that now. It's just like times have changed and there’s so many bands and so many artists that you have to be on it. Like, it will only be a matter of time before we go on to TikTok.

Tom: As an unsigned band without management or label yet, you know, we're left to do it on our own. Like Jack said, it's our only way of letting people know about our music. We might as well try and enjoy it if we've got to do it.

photo: Ryan Hall

CS: Now that the EP is out, what are your future plans for the band?

Tom: World domination?

Joe: Recording.

Tom: Yeah, more tunes. We've got quite a few unrecorded ones. Keep doing what we're doing, really, following the footsteps of the people and bands and artists who have inspired us. Just keep going with it and see what happens. We're not putting immense amounts of pressure on ourselves. We do it because we love it. We do it because we think our music is worth pursuing. Yeah. Just see where the wind takes us.

CS: And you've got a tour coming up in October.

Jack: Yeah, a UK tour. It’s a co-headlining tour with Polary and My Pet Fauxes. So we're playing in different cities and we're all sharing the headlines slot and supporting each other at the different venues.

Tom: The 17th of October we're playing Leeds at Oporto, then on the 18th at Dublin Castle in London, the 19th we’re in Bristol at Crofters Rights and then the 20th at Night & Day in Manchester.

CS: Good luck for those shows and again, congratulations on releasing your debut EP.

This interview has been lightly edited for clarity and length.

Listen to Sleep Walking Animals’ debut EP here

Follow the band on Instagram Twitter Spotify YouTube

sleepwalkinganimals.com

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rediscoveringmichelle · 3 years ago

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An Apple a day keeps the cravings away

January 2021, back in London after spending Christmas at home in Ireland with my family. This time had been a very different experience to the last. Freer, both mentally and physically. The last time I had been home was at the beginning of the global pandemic, restricted to the 2km radius of my home in Clontarf, North Dublin. However, on this occasion not only had restrictions been lifted by the Taoiseach for the Christmas period, I had lifted my own restrictions too. The beginning of the pandemic was the turning point of my recovery and now, 9 months later, I was no longer limiting myself to 3 healthy meals per day, with no snacks and a strict schedule of two 10km runs per week and a minimum 2 and half hours of walking per day. I felt happier and healthier than I had been in years, able to relax and enjoy late night glasses of wine and mince pies with my parents, meals out with friends and the odd day of rest and relaxation with nothing but a few hours of TV to pass the day. It didn’t matter how much weight I had put on; I had gained my life and laugh back, and I would be forever grateful for the lesson I had learnt thanks to this awful pandemic. That making myself thinner and fitter, didn’t make me any happier. And that being physically healthy is nothing if you destroy your mental and social health too.

January 2018 was really where it all began. Recently single and having spent a lot of my newfound freedom on nights out, eating takeaways and drinking large volumes of alcohol, I had understandably put on a bit of weight. The guy I had been seeing, suddenly stopped texting me and I felt rejected. My parents were back to living their lives after their run-ins with poor health. Dad back to smothering his toast in thick layers of butter and Mum loving her newfound ‘real-Mum’ life of Pilates and coffee catch ups since selling her practice for good. I was no longer needed. Mum didn’t need me to drive her to chemo or cook my Dad his no red meat, no oil, no salt dinners. I felt anxious as they went back to living their lives. No longer able to control them, especially my dad. I couldn’t force him into living a by-the-book healthy lifestyle. But I figured what I could control was myself. I could be the healthiest person I could possibly be. And with the added benefit of making that guy wish he’d never let me go. My perfectionist self would ensure that I would be the perfect picture of health. No cheating, no dieting, just a new lifestyle. A new me. One I could love.

I scoured the internet for all the advice on changing your lifestyle, getting fit and losing weight. Running apparently boosted your metabolism and was an efficient way to burn calories and fat. So, I started by running 5km, three times a week. Weights would help then to reduce my body fat and tone up so I coupled the running with strength training in the gym, also three times a week. I pounded out Kelsey Wells workout routines, while listening to ‘This is me’ from The Greatest Showman, a song about not being afraid to show the world exactly who you are, as I was ironically punishing my body into a shape that was not naturally me. I strictly followed Dad’s cardiologist’s advice and cooked everything from scratch, substituting beef mince for turkey mince and not using oil, butter or salt in my cooking. I cut out all snacks and limited myself to three meals per day. Social Media became my home ground for weight loss advice. ‘You’re not hungry, you’re thirsty. Drink some water.’ ‘No pain, no gain.’ ‘Ignore your cravings and they will eventually go away.’ ‘Craving sugar? Have an apple instead’. Each day would end with eating an apple to stave off the cravings and to quieten the rumbles in my stomach.

I started weighing my food, tracking everything from litres of water drunk and then steps walked and active minutes of exercise. I upped my runs gradually to 10km, twice a week because social media told me that after running for 35 minutes, you no longer just burn calories, but also fat. And yes, I do realise that anyone who has a degree in anything science related would quickly realise these were all completely made up and not based on fact, but I guess I wanted to believe them. I would believe anything that forced me to push (or punish) myself more. I stopped going out for drinks or dinner with friends. Too many calories and too worried that I wouldn’t be able to get up and run in the morning, unable to flex from the specific days I went running, for fear I would never run again. When I moved to London, I spent my weekends walking 40 thousand steps so that I could then earn a slice of banana bread from Deliciously Ella’s Vegan & Gluten Free Deli. I felt a rush of joy wash over me each time I saw the number on the scales or the minutes of my 10km runs decline, but like a drug, the high didn’t last long. I was addicted. I had no trust in myself. ‘You’re so controlled’, they complimented me. But deep down, I felt like there was a lazy, sugar and fat loving girl inside me. An imposter in a gradually reducing body. Fearing that just one biscuit and I would be back as that unhappy and overweight rejected girl.

I really believed that being thinner and looking like those girls I idolised on Instagram would make me happier. They were all smiling, surely that meant they were happy? As the compliments turned to concern, I felt that surely people were just jealous of how much weight I had managed to lose. Weight loss was something to be proud of, wasn’t it? The truth of it all didn’t hit me until the pandemic. As I sat up in my bed struggling to breathe on the night of the Taoiseach’s first lockdown announcement, I started to wonder what I was really fearing. During a time when people were dying, all I could fear was not being able to exercise enough and being locked up in a house full of food. I feared putting on weight and relinquishing control. I felt trapped with nothing to look forward to. Holidays cancelled and my boyfriend of two months at home with his family 167km away in Belfast. That was my rock bottom.

In an effort to cheer myself up I started to make a list of all the things I wanted to do post lockdown. Have date nights in with my boyfriend, making pizzas, ordering takeaways and eating breakfast in bed. Then the excitement of getting to do these things started to dwindle as the anxiety crept in, as I tried to count up how much exercise I would need to do in order to earn those nights. A day in bed with no exercise? Nope, that’s a no go. And that’s when it hit me. I had made myself thin, with the thought that then I would be lovable and that then I could enjoy my life. But I was thinner, thinner than I’d been since I was a preteen and I still wouldn’t let myself go enough to do the things I deeply wanted to do. To let myself enjoy life. How freeing it would be to just, let go!

My love for learning kicked in and I made the decision to start reading up and educating myself. I came across a book my mum had not so subtly left lying around the house. ‘Just Eat it – How Intuitive eating can help you get your shit together around food’ by Laura Thomas. I didn’t believe I had an eating disorder until I started reading her book. As she listed off the disorders, she then came to Orthorexia – defined as an unhealthy obsession with healthy eating or over exercising. ‘When was the last time you even asked yourself what you’d like instead of what you ‘can’ or ‘should’ eat?’ she queried. The sad reality was that I couldn’t remember. ‘We trust our phones more than we trust our bodies’. Well that was certainly true for me. She used science, showing that weight was in fact not a determinant of health but that by exercising, eating healthy and not smoking we could be healthy, regardless of our size. That eating a donut didn’t in fact negate the nutrients of the carrot we ate earlier. And that white flour was actually infused with calcium and that those carbs are what give us energy to move and enjoy life. My eyes gradually opened to all the lies diet culture had taught me and I felt empowered.

I moved on to more books and podcasts and started culling my social media feed of anyone that didn’t make me feel good. I started following intuitive eating dietitians and anti-diet advocates. Following people of all shapes and sizes and realising how biased our society is towards people in smaller bodies. Not just the size of airplane seats but assuming that all health issues experienced by fat people can be solved by weight loss. I learnt that the night sweats I had been experiencing, the pretty much non-existent sex drive and the inability to maintain body heat for any length of time were in fact all side effects of the restricted eating and over-exercising. Half the time I didn’t even look as thin as I had become because I was wearing so many layers of clothes in order to keep warm. Walking around the house with a hot water bottle strapped to my waist and wearing a fur coat indoors while out for dinner with friends. Only now can I laugh at the image of it. I started to make a list of all the things I would gain through gaining weight and glancing back over it now, I have gained all of these and more. My headspace, my laughter, my body heat and a fantastic relationship that I thankfully didn’t destroy because of my restrictive, anxious mind-set.

My recovery hasn’t been easy. The steps toward eating intuitively start with banishing your food rules and allowing yourself to eat what you want. A process that takes time before you can start tuning into your hunger and fullness cues again and introducing gentle nutrition. It involved allowing myself to devour entire tubs of Oatly chocolate fudge ice-cream, multiple evenings per week. Making my way through all the delicious Deliveroo takeaway options London had to offer – Honest Burgers red meat beef burgers with rosemary salted fries, Franco Manca pizzas, with all the toppings, and Kin & Deum Thai curries, with full fat coconut milk. Gradually I started being able to listen to my body and trust it. Whether it hungered for a salmon stir-fry or was seeking out a slice of chocolate cake. The interesting thing being, that months later it now craves nutritious food the majority of the time. And that by allowing it to have higher sugar or fat containing foods whenever it wants, I no longer feel out of control around them. I no longer find myself devouring three large sized bags of crisps in one sitting, overtaken by the fear that I will never let myself eat them again.

I have days where I find myself critiquing my larger thighs in the mirror but instead of allowing the thoughts consume me, I allow them float by with curiosity and continue about my day knowing that the way I look doesn’t define me and that the greatest things about me have nothing to do with my body shape or size. I am a thoughtful friend, who prides herself at remembering important moments in friends’ lives. A courageous girl who isn’t afraid to try new things, whether that be travelling solo across Vietnam or signing up to a surf and yoga retreat in Cornwall. A creative person who loves to draw and a lifelong learner that is open to new ideas and wants to challenge her way of thinking. My body will change a lot over the next 50 plus years of my life, but the great thing is that thanks to freeing myself from the disease, I get to look forward to the possibility of being alive for that long and to enjoying every waking moment, no longer postponing life for when I look or am a certain way.

#recovery #healing #dietculture #orthorexia #bodyimage #eatingdisorder #rediscoveringlife

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niall-is-my-dream · 6 years ago

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You & Me - Part Twelve

2440 words

Callie's POV

You stayed in Niall's bedroom for an hour after Kim and Sam had left. Curled up with each other on his bed, kissing, talking and kissing some more. Both of you agreed that you couldn't let everything that was happening with Saskia come between you.

Niall had done nothing wrong, they'd dated, he decided to end it and he told her straight and kindly. He didn't ghost her or behave rudely to her, in fact you thought he had been too nice to her over the last few months. When she had turned up at rehearsals and at the Dublin gig, he had been polite to her, even when she was screaming at him for ending it. He had been verbally abused by her on numerous occasions and had taken it.

To say it broke your heart at how much it was affecting him was an understatement. His album was to be released in less than a month, he had interviews and performances to do. But he was a true professional and wasn't going to let it effect the buzz he was feeling at finally sharing his 18 months of hard work.

After the stress of the meeting with Kim and Sam, the group decided to chill out at home for Bex and Willie's last day in L.A. Although Saskia wasn't a physical threat to either of you, you were still worried about him, Mully and Willie going to the grocery store to get some supplies for a bbq.

"We will be fine." He said, as he ran his hands up and down your arms reassuringly before leaning in and kissing you goodbye.

He had been warned that although the court order prevented her from being near him, that didn't mean that she hadn't tipped off other paps to follow him with the prospect of an exclusive. Niall had a strict policy of never talking about his dating life. He was here to be a musician and talk about his music and interests, not his love life.

With the lads gone and the security gate and front door securely locked, you made your way through to the kitchen. You were desperate to talk to Bex alone, she was always the voice of reason.

Making another coffee for you both, you sat down at the kitchen table, the patio doors open letting the lunchtime sun in.

"So the shit hit the fan then!" Bex said trying to lighten the mood.

"Yeah it fucking did!" You laughed. "Honestly you couldn't even make this shit up."

"Only in Hollywood hey?!"

You nodded before taking a sip of your coffee.

"How are you doing?" She asked.

"I'm actually ok. I'm obviously sad and shocked that it's happened but I'm also angry. Like how could she do this to him? I just....... He's an amazing guy and she's ruining him all because he wasn't interested in her anymore."

"I actually feel sorry for her." Bex said and your head shot up. "Hear me out ok?" And you nodded. "These models are told how to look constantly, they work out a lot, they're constantly on a diet. I doubt her mental health is good because of it."

"I guess. She was just so rude and shallow, she thought a lot of herself."

"Yeah and that's what she is use to in the world in which she lives in. It's sad really, I mean does she even have a good set of friends. You and I are lucky we have each other you know? Does she have that? Someone to rely on? I doubt it. It's all fake."

"Doesn't excuse her awful behaviour though? I mean who texts someone and says she's going to ruin them?!"

"Doesn't excuse her behaviour at all. Please don't think I'm sticking up for her or trying to justify her actions. I'm just saying her way of life is very different to ours. Being ahead of the game and ruthless is something she's use to. She probably didn't even batter an eyelid when she messaged him that. Is he doing ok?"

"He says he is but I think it's really got to him. He's worried about telling his parents, he hates worrying them. Plus I need to tell my parents, God I haven't even told them we are dating, now I have to tell them this too. They aren't going to be happy."

"I'd be more worried about Tom." She replied.

You ran your hand down your face and let out a massive sigh at the prospect of telling your older brother that not only had you got involved with Niall, which he had told you not to do. But you also had to tell him that Niall's crazy ex was stalking you both.

"Maybe you should make sure that Claire is with him when you tell him." She smiled.

"Oh God yeah, Claire needs to be there. Think I'll Skype my parents now actually before it gets too late." You said looking at the clock on the wall.

"Ok, well go in the living room and I'll be just in here if you need me."

"Thanks hun."

You were shitting it if you were being honest. You set up your iPad on the coffee table and sat down on Niall's big arse sofa. What was with this boy and his massive sofas? You knew your Mum would be reading on her iPad like she always did in the evening, so would see the request for a Skype call. Within seconds of calling she had answered.

"Hi baby girl!" She said excitedly. "How are you?"

"Hi Mum, I'm good. How are you?"

"Oh you know, same old. What about you? You've got a few days break haven't you? Where are you, in LA?"

You had given your parents a schedule of where you would be while you were away, even adding the time difference for them. Your Mum had panicked one time when you were in Canada for a show with another artist and she had forgotten the time difference. She couldn't work out why it took you 5 hours to reply to her text. You had been asleep in bed, as it was night time there.

"Um is Dad there? Want to talk to you both."

"Yeah he is, hang on." She said before the screen showed the artex ceiling as she made her way over to the sofa where your Dad was sitting.

He waved and blew you a kiss. You were a Daddy's girl, even at 25 your Dad still blew you a kiss when you skyped.

"Hi Dad."

"Hey sweetheart, everything ok?"

"Yeah, I just need to talk to you about something."

You told them that you and Niall had started seeing each other and their eyes widened. They hadn't been expecting that. When you told them about what was happening with Saskia, your Dad took off his glasses and sighed. He ran his hand down his face just like you had done in the kitchen not so long ago.

"So there's a restraining order, so she can't come near you or Niall?" Your Mum asked, her voice laced with worry.

"It'll be just to prevent her from coming near him, but it'll protect me and other crew members since we are all together on tour."

"What about the break next month, when you come home?"

"I'll be with Niall for a lot of that anyway Mum. Look, she's not going to hurt us. She's just not happy that he ended things and wants to make out that he cheated on her with me."

"And did he?" Your dad asked.

"No!" You replied shocked that he had asked you outright.

"Paul!" Mum gasped.

"I had to ask, you've been working with him for what ten months and nothing has happened until recently?"

You internally cringed at having this conversation with your parents.

"Yes, we have always just been good friends. He was single for a few months before we got together."

"So she's just jealous? This is just because she got dumped?" Mum asked.

"Pretty much."

"Wow, she sounds a little bit crazy." Dad said shaking his head.

"She is." You replied.

You heard the front door open, the sound of the lads chatting as they entered the house. Looking up you could see Niall place his bag on the ground and make his way over to you.

"I'm just on Skype with my parents." You said looking at him.

He nodded and came and sat next to you.

"Hi." He said nervously. He hadn't a clue what you'd said or what their reaction had been.

"Hi Niall." Your mum said. Your Dad just nodded, but smiled.

"So I've told them what's been happening." You explained to him.

"Ah." He replied, nodding. You could tell he was nervous. He cleared his throat before continuing. "I'm sorry that I have put your daughter in this position. I had no idea that Saskia was capable of this behaviour. I care about Callie a lot and...... " he paused for a moment. "Hopefully my legal team will be able to prevent her from coming near us and from publishing pictures of us going about our day to day stuff."

"Niall, we are sorry to hear that you've been going through this. Callie said that this girl has been harassing you for weeks. Your family must be worried." Your Mum said, that clear protective motherly tone coming through.

"I called them while I was out actually. My Mam is coming over to London when we get back for a few days to stay with me. They both know I've got a good team who look after me."

"Maybe we could meet you in person, if you have time while you're back?"

Oh god.

"I'd love that. I'll check our schedule and maybe we could all have dinner together at mine." He replied and took your hand in his.

Your Mum was definitely won over by him, she practically swooning at his offer to cook for you all. You could see your Dad ticking everything over in his head.

You ended the call not long after. Closing the iPad and placing it flat on the coffee table, throwing yourself backwards you landed on the sofa and let out a massive sigh of relief.

"They took that pretty well. My Mam freaked out, she's insisted on coming to London."

"Yeah they weren't too bad were they? Sorry they asked to meet you."

"Why are you sorry?" He replied as he crawled up the length of your body and settled himself between your legs.

"Just a big thing isn't it, meeting the parents?"

"Should I not have invited them to dinner to meet my Mam to?" He asked as he leaned down to kiss your neck.

"Mmmm, you know talking about our parents whilst your kissing my neck and rubbing your erection against me is weird."

He laughed against your neck, but carried on regardless. You pushed your hands up through his hair and across the nape of his neck.

"The things you do to me." He mumbled as he rubbed himself against you again.

"For fuck sake you two!" Willie smirked as he walked in the living room. "Get a room!"

"This is a room, in my own house!" Niall said, as he turned his head towards Willie.

Willie just laughed. "Come and get the bbq going you daft twat, there's plenty of time for that later." Before he left the room and headed towards the kitchen you presumed.

"We will finish this later Petal." He said smirking, before standing up and adjusting himself in his shorts.

You all changed into swimwear and grabbed some towels. The lads had brought a pop up football net at the grocery store, along with all the food you would need for the bbq. Niall had got it lit, leaving it to warm up while yourself and Bex got some salad ready in the kitchen.

It seemed almost crazy how easily the whole Saskia fiasco was forgotten as you consumed bbq food that afternoon and played games. Willie and Bex were due to get picked up at 8:30 that night ready for an overnight flight back to London Heathrow.

You always worried about her while you were away. Yes, she had other friends that she spent time with and a busy job, but you two were close. It felt good knowing that she had started dating Willie. While the lads tried to header the ball in the goal before falling in the pool with a splash, you and Bex had a catch up about her and Willie. Things had already got quite serious in the short space of time that they'd been together, similar to you and Niall. They text everyday and saw each other as much as their work schedules would allow. You could see how smitten they were with each other.

When it came to say goodbye to her that evening, you both cried like you always did. However it would only be just over a week before you could see her again back in England.

Over the course of the next few days Niall had a number of interviews and meetings for the album release next month. You kept yourself busy by going to the gym that Mark had recommended to you. Kicking the shit out of the punch bag always made you feel better. You didn't worry about feeling unsafe, it didn't even cross your mind, but Mully insisted on coming with you wherever you went.

With the Mexico leg of the tour cancelled due to an awful earthquake, you only had the Rio show to do before a 3 week break from tour. This was going to be a busy three weeks though with the album release and various interviews and performances.

Niall was on form in Rio, the troubles of what had happened with Saskia over the last few months were firmly locked away and forgotten.

The legal stuff went through without a hitch, she hadn't contacted him and no stories had appeared in the press.

Flying back to london after the show had felt good. Niall had a golf event to attend in Scotland which meant you had a few free days to spend with Bex and Willie playing the third wheel. It also meant it gave you chance to catch up with your brother and sister in law. You'd asked your Mum and Dad not to mention you and Niall to him, as you wanted to tell him face to face. You were not looking forward to it.

Part Thirteen

https://niall-is-my-dream.tumblr.com/post/183397925828/you-me-part-thirteen

#Niall #Niall Horan #Niall fan fic #niall horan fan fic #Niall fan fiction #Niall Horan fan fiction #solo Niall #one direction #flicker sessions #Emily writes #1dff #Niall fluff #Niall smut

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redfoxwritesstuff · 5 years ago

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Clover And Lace, Chapter 12

Hello Lovies. We’ve made it to chapter 12. Some angst. As always, I thrive on attention so feel free to let me know what you think. Also, thank @winterisakiller who suffered through watching me write this.

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In that moment Rosemary was more comfortable than she could ever remember being in her life. Her head was resting in the space just inside and under Steve’s shoulder, on his chest. She could hear his heart beating and feel the rise and fall of every slow breath he took. He was solid and warm, arm wrapped around her shoulder and hand resting on he curve of her hip.

At times the sound of him lulled her to a shallow sleep. She felt safer resting in his arms than she could ever remember being. Steve’s arm was curled around her and slowly ran a path up to her shoulder where his fingers began tracing light patterns. His other hand rested on his chest, clutching hers. Rosemary had her leg tucked over one of his and kept herself pressed tightly into his side. For their nakedness, she didn’t feel any concern laying with him.

Steve dozed as well with his lips pressed against the top of her head. The smell of her hair and the warmth of her body was comforting. Normally he wasn’t one for sleeping after a mission- he needed a day to unpack mentally but her soft skin pressed against his seemed to pull him along at times. Other times he was content to just hold her and think of what could be. It felt so good to just have someone to hold.

It was approaching mid morning before they started to stir. It started with the rumbling of Rosemary’s stomach announcing that she had lounged long enough. Steve let out a soft chuckle when his own stomach joined in the call for food.

“We should probably get up.” He spoke into her hair. “Put clothes on.”

“The horror.” Rosemary ran her hand down his firm chest before sliding it back up and into his hand again. “You should never wear clothes.”

Steve laughed at the admission. He knew he was a fine looking man, he saw how women looked at him since his body had grown and changed with the serum. At times it still felt odd to have women he didn’t even know look at him, lust after him. There was something different about hearing it from her. Male pride came to life within him once again.

“I could say the same of you.” Steve rolled over her, caging her in between his arms. “We should probably shower. Maybe you’ll let me wash your back?”

A blush colored her cheeks at the idea alone. Slowly, Steve leaned down and kissed her. Her own hands slipped up his shoulders and wrapped around his neck. One of his hands wondered down her side, greedily taking in the feeling of her soft skin as if for the first time. She rolled her hips as they kissed, rubbing her damp core against his thigh and feeling the hard length of Steve against her hip. Need bloomed to life within them again.

That was until her stomach let out a loud growl. Steve laughed as he pulled back from the kiss. Rosemary however was determined not to be sidetracked by her damn stomach when she had a much more important hunger she wished to address. She leaned up and began kissing Steve’s neck, trying to urge him into action again.

It almost worked. He was on the verge of giving into her when her stomach again made a request for food. Steve laughed louder as he dropped his head against the pillow next to her. His hand slipped under her back and with a swift roll that demonstrated his strength, Steve pulled her to rest against his chest as he rested again on his back. A giggle slipped out of her as she braced herself against him.

“I think your stomach is telling me something.” Steve smiled up at her as she pushed herself up off his chest to better look down at him, breasts softly resting on him.

“What’s that?” God she loved his messed up hair, the way the sunlight made his blue eyes sparkle and the lazy smile on his face.

“That I should ask this fair lady to accompany me on a breakfast date. So, the diner down the street- what do you say?” Her stomach answered.

“I guess I’ve got no choice. The stomach hath spoken.”

Rosemary didn’t get up right away but she did at least move off of Steve to allow him to dress. She couldn’t take her eyes off of him as he reached down and grabbed his pants and pulled them up his legs.

Steve felt her eyes on him and looked over. She was a sight sitting naked on the bed with her legs tucked under her. The sun shone on her and he again realized how lucky he was. So what, she had that chip drive. So what, she had her secrets. Still, she was everything he could ever dream of and he looked forward to slowly learning more and more of her.

After snagging his belt from the floor, he crossed the room to her. Leaning down, he kissed her sweetly, tangling his fingers in the wild mess of her hair. She rested her hand on his chest, just over his heart. He was warm, so warm to her touch and she wanted nothing more then to keep touching him.

“This may be one of the only times you ever hear me say this but- Get dressed, you.” This time it was Steve’s stomach to again announce the need for food.

“Alright.” She moaned dramatically and Steve whispered under his breath as he pretended not to notice the things she did to him.

Reaching down Steve tried to pick up his shirt off the floor while he watched her. She stretched her arms up over her head and arched her back. Her breasts were front, center and perky right in front of his face as be groped the floor. Her eyes were closed and a small moan slipped passed her lips as she stretched, body pulled taught right in front of him. Part of him wondered if she was actually trying to torture him.

It took Steve three attempts to pick up his shirt and was thankful to at least have it in his hand when her eyes opened. If she knew of the difficulty he had with the simple task of picking up his shirt, she didn’t show it. Rather, she just smiled at him as she slipped off the bed.

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

They walked hand in hand as they made their way back from the restaurant. Neither had been able to decide what they wanted and ended up sharing a plate. They laughed over strawberry creme creeps and a breakfast skillet, split between them as they talked.

Steve told her stories of the team, how Sam would cook for them and how Tony hosted grand parties. She listened eagerly as Steve spoke of living with his best friend. They laughed together as he admitted to the terrible mess he was preparing for their first date. The story of the sorry sandwiches made her wish he had brought the sad things that day.

“Did you at least go buy a proper knife set?” She asked eyeing him.

“On my way home that night.” He admitted. “Bucky still uses whatever knives are closest.”

“But do you?” She laughed when he blushed. “I guess at least you are trying.”

All in all, it had been a perfect breakfast date. It was something she could get used to. It was something she wanted to get used to. Looking up at him as they walked, Rosemary wondered what it would be like to do this with him more? What would it be like to wake up with him after sleeping in his arms the whole night? What would it be like to make breakfast together in her little kitchen? What would it be like?

They turned the corner and the cafe came into sight. How close everything was to home was quickly becoming something she loved about her current home. For the first time in her life, she began to care about the place she lived in. Seemingly randomly, he would pull her back by the hand he held and spin her around.

She giggled as she clung to him as he lifted her in to the air by a strong arm wrapped around her waist. As her feet settled back on the ground, he leaned down and kissed her. The breeze rustled around them and in that moment Rosemary felt like she had somehow stepped into one of her romance books.

“Do you want to come inside?” She asked as they pulled apart and he laughed.

“My keys are inside.”

“I know.” She grinned. “So do you want to come inside?”

“I guess I do.”

“You guess? I guess you better hurry before I lock the door.” Rosemary took off running toward the cafe.

Steve was a gentleman and for a few moments he just walked before he took off after her. She made it almost to the steps of the cafe when his arms circled her middle and he lifted her off her feet. She squealed and their laughter filled the air as the doors to the black sedan parked unnoticed near the entrance opened.

“Miss. Ramsey?” Rosemary froze, growing stiff in Steve’s arms. “Miss. Ramsey, I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

Clearly sensing something was very wrong, Steve set her down. Anxiety and panic rolled off her in waves putting him on high alert instantly. There was a sharpness to her eyes as she locked her sights on the woman shutting the door to the sedan. The coolness to her voice that he’d never heard before when she spoke.

“I’m Sara Wilson. You’ve got the wrong person.”

“Steve.” A tall black man with a leather trench coat and eye patch stood tall as he stepped out of the passenger seat.

“Nick.” Rosemary’s eyes flicked to Steve with a coldness he never wanted to have directed his way again. “What’s going on?”

“Ramsey, I’d like to discuss with you the facts of your father’s murder and your involvement.”

“I don’t know who you are or who Ramsey is. Leave me alone.”

“What is going on, Nick?” Steve demanded, steeping between Rosemary and the woman when she stepped forward. “Who are you?”

“Just some international cooperation.” Fury answered even as the woman began speaking over him.

“I’m Detective O’Kelley with the Dublin homicide department and the woman you are protecting is under investigation for the murder of Richard Ramsey. She and her brother slit their father’s neck and gutted him like a hog before sitting back and watching him die.”

“Whoever this Ramsey chick is, I’m sure she didn’t do it.”

“Witnesses overheard the two of you planning and we all know who you are, you can stop the game. I’ve known you since you were just a little thief on the streets.” The detective’s lips curled in disgust.

“Miss Ramsey, I’ve come to offer you a deal. If you are indeed all that is said of you-”

“Whatever you’ve got to offer- I’m sure she’s not interested wherever the hell she is.”

“You’re papers a good but you know what’s better? Actual papers. I’m offering to obtain them for you if you work with me. Rub my back and I’ll rub yours.” Fury spoke calmly. “I don’t care about what happened with your father.”

“We don’t know who killed him. We don’t care.”

“You did. Stop being a coward and admit it!” Detective O’Kelley snapped.

“We’ve been over this Mary.” Rosemary pinched the bridge of her nose. “We planned, we intended but we did not do. The world is a better place without him.” She turned, body tense and began walking toward the cafe.

“If you’re innocent then why did you run?” Rosemary turned to face her, tears in her eyes.

“Because we were twelve. Bloody hell, you care so much about his death but none of you gave a fuck about what he did.”

“And you’re other crimes? Arms dealing? What else are you dealing? How about being in America illegally? This sweet innocent girl thing is working for you. It’s a shame that it’s falling apart.”

“Do you have a warrant?” Rosemary asked, voice colder than the ice that he had been trapped in for all those years. When the woman didn’t answer again she snapped her question a second time.

“No, Ma’am.” Fury answered.

“You’re not welcome in my home until you do.” Rosemary slowly walked toward the cafe. When Detective O’Kelley made to follow Fury shook his head, directing her to stay put.

“Rose?” Steve took a few steps to follow before she turned to face him with a fire in her eyes that was all of a sudden so much worse. The look she gave him made him stop in his tracks.

“You!” She yelled. “You lied to me you bloody cunt. You tricked me. I let you in. Just so you could help her fucking find me?! I trusted you. I should have never let you in.”

When she turned and ran up the steps Steve followed, reaching out and grabbing her hand to stop her. He had no clue what was going on but he had no part of it. Whoever Ramsey was, he didn’t know. She turned and slapped him hard. The blow shocked him more than anything. He’d taken much worse hits in his life.

“You told me you loved me and I believed you.” She screamed as tears fell down her cheeks.

“I do.” Steve let go of her hand and searched her eyes. It killed him to see her crying. “I don’t know what they’re talking about.”

“Lies.” She whimpered.

“Rogers.” Fury called from behind him and never had Steve hated the man as much as he did in that moment.

Rose turned and ran. Steve was torn between demanding answers from Fury or following her. In the time he spent trying to decide the right thing to do, she was through the cafe door and it was shut behind her.

“What the hell was that about?” Steve questioned as Fury drew closer.

“There seems to be things about her you don’t know that-

“I’m aware.” Steve snapped. “You know what, just leave. I’ll check in later.”

He rushed up the steps and pushed through the doors. In the stairwell he could just see her red hair disappear out of sight. He needed to catch her. He needed to explain it to her. She needed to understand that he had no part of what happened. It had nothing to do with him. He didn’t tell anyone about her secrets.

“Steve!” Mrs. Jones called from her place clearing a table. When he didn’t answer she called again while making her way toward him.

“I need to talk to Rose.” He absently answered.

“Rose?”

“Sara.” He corrected.

“Son, sit with me a spell. I think you and I need to talk.” Mrs. Jones pulled out a chair at the table next to him. He didn’t want to sit. He didn’t want to talk. “You and I both know the only way out of that apartment is down those stairs. She’ll still be there when I’ve spoken my mind.”

“Fine.” Steve had to admit the woman had a point. Rose couldn’t leave without him knowing and Mrs. Jones may have information about whatever the hell was going on. Steve sat in the chair and tried to soften what he knew was the stern expression on his face. Something was going on and whatever it was, he needed answers so be could best be there for Rose.

“I may be old, but I ain’t deaf.” Mrs. Jones started.

“I’m sorry about what happened in the parking lot.” Steve sighed, expecting to be lectured for making a scene.

“I expected it eventually. A girl like Rosemary doesn’t get to have a peaceful life if she stays in one spot to long.”

“What do you know that I don’t?” Steve leaned forward. He hadn’t expected Mrs. Jones to refer to Rose by the same name as had been used outside.

“I know what the rumors of her are. I also know she is so much more then what is said of her. I know she’s lived a lonely life to protect herself. I know that a lot of what they say about her isn’t true. I’d bet my left leg that she didn’t kill no one unless she had to.”

“What does she do?” Steve softly asked. “What-”

“Her story is hers to tell. What I want to know is how much do you know?”

“She has secrets. She told me she prefers to be called Rose, not Sara. That she has a brother who she hasn’t seen in a long time. That’s… That’s it.”

“You didn’t do that?” Mrs. Jones asked, waving her hand toward the door to the cafe.

“I had no part in that. I work with Fury but… I didn’t know anything. Nothing at all.”

“You love her?”

“Enough to scare me. But I don’t know how to protect her, to help her without knowing the facts.”

“You’ve got a battle to win that girl’s trust again. Her life depends on not trusting anyone to get close, not letting anyone find out who or where she is. But know she is a good person. She is worth it. Now, if you are sure you want her after that scene- go talk to her but don’t push her.”

Steve got up with a firm nod. Mrs. Jones knew more than she was saying but at least she reassured him. Sara, Rose or Rosemary- the name didn’t matter. She was a good person and that’s all he needed to know. She said she didn’t kill her father, he needed to trust in that as he climbed the stairs two at a time.

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noahreids · 6 years ago

Text

Beauty in the Aftermath (CS FF) | 14/14

Summary: Confronted with the sudden appearance of her birth parents, Emma, in a moment of panic, runs. She flees the diner, Storybrooke, the country. She finds herself a day later in the Dublin, Ireland Airport terminal wondering what the hell she has gotten herself into. With some fear, a little determination and a considerable amount of faking it along the way, she sets off on a trip she never planned on taking but needed more than she ever knew. She finds herself, she finds a Brit adrift on his own journey and finds out what home really means.

Rated: M (Sexual content & some Irish whiskey along the way).

Also on: AO3 | FFN Tumblr: [ 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 ] Art!: Cover | Ch.1 | Ch.3 | Ch.5 | Ch.7 | Ch.9 | Ch.14

A/N: I can’t believe we're here, the final chapter. This has been an absolutely amazing experience, beyond anything I could have ever imagined. And it’s honestly because of everyone that’s read, liked, reblogged, left comments, tweeted and just really simply being awesome amazing people. I know I’ve said it before but I appreciate the heck out of each and every one of you. You have no idea. So thank you, thank you, thank you. I wish I could take each of you out for a Guinness or hot chocolate, your choice ;) xoxo

So much love to everyone at @captainswanbigbang your encouragement, patience and work to put this event on is out of this world. Thank you. Thanks to @shippingtheswann, @imagnifika for amazing collaboration and to @halobxist & @meanderingcaptainswanmusings for everything xo.

And last but not least, please keep supporting all the other CSBB authors and artists. We are one lucky fandom!

And now will Killian find Emma?

Chapter 14

Emma tightly grasps the arms of her chair, whitening her knuckles and holds on until the tips of her fingers begin to hurt. Her heart pounds wildly in her chest as she turns her head, eyes wide. And there, just across the room stands Anna in all her spirited grandeur, hair damp and frizzing from the rain, cheeks pink and eyes bright with elation, like she’s just come in from a race.

Emma isn’t sure if she wants to throw herself into Anna’s arms or collapse into her chair and cry in relief. She’s momentarily frozen, simply trying to find her voice that is currently nowhere to be found. The how and the why and the do you know where he is are all clamoring hard to come out first that they get stuck in her throat, forcing Emma to remain silent instead, blinking at her friend, a new tear escaping.

“Oh, Emma. It’s okay!”

Anna rushes to her side and grabs hold of her hands.

“Yeah?” she squeaks out her question.

Anna squeezes her fingers and her expression gentles from excitement to understanding.

“So, okay. I promise. Let’s call Killian right now, he’s sporting the same expression you are, although with a little more self-loathing.”

Emma’s face scrunches in confusion.

“But he doesn’t --”

“Have a phone? I know, what a dummy! But listen to this, Kristoff and I were on our way to grab a bite to eat at the Brazen Head, and there was Killian, pacing outside a coffee shop. He was trying to figure out how to connect to the Wi-Fi on the phone he’d just bought, muttering over and over that he must have missed a hostel as he looked for you. So anyway, I run over to him and--”

“Anna,” Emma interrupts, eyes pleading. “Why didn’t you just call me?”

“Uh, we only called you about a thousand times,” she says, shaking her phone in front of Emma’s face.

“What are you talking about? My phone never rang.”

Emma fishes her phone out of her pocket, only to find the screen dark. Her stomach drops. She presses the home button and the dreaded dead battery image flashes across the screen.

“Oh look, here’s Kristoff.”

Kristoff’s grinning face fills Anna’s screen and all Emma wants to do is steal the phone away, she wants to ask more questions, she wants Killian to suddenly appear directly in front of her.

“Kris, are you with Killian? I found her. At Abrahams on Lower Gardiner. You’re where? Oh!”

Emma tries to follow the conversation, she really does, but when she hears that Kristoff is with Killian, all she wants to do is be where he is, now. She frantically stuffs everything back in her pack, unaware Anna has stopped talking or that the front door has opened once again.

She just needs to get to him and everything will be alright. She’s sure of it.

“Anna, you need to tell me where he is.”

She is met with silence.

She looks up to find Anna watching her with that same soft smile. One she doesn’t have time for.

“Swan.”

She drops everything. Her bag lands with a loud thump, falling precariously close to the end table, rattling the tea cup and saucer but she pays no mind because he’s there. Killian is in the lobby, eyes a little wild and hair even wilder. His chest heaves with quick breaths as they stare at each other.

“Killian,” she says with relief, with a small gasp before her feet are moving her across the room. He keeps them both upright when she reaches him, wrapping her arms around his neck, lips meeting in a hard desperate kiss.

His arms come around her, and hold her tightly, as she changes the angle of the kiss, wanting more, breathing him in. She only pulls a breath length away, hands gripping the collar of his jacket, eyes closed, words rushing out.

“How, how did you find me?”

“I’ve been to every hostel in the city, some twice and when I found Anna and K--” his explanation breaks off on a laugh as she peppers his face with kisses.

“You really found me,” her voice comes softer, surprise tinting her words and she watches as he turns pensive, eyes searching hers for the words she isn’t using.

He cups her face, thumb catching fresh tears on her cheeks, gently wiping them away.

“Of course. I will always find you. Did you doubt I would?”

She doesn’t want to say yes, or to admit to all the fears and worries that had threatened to overwhelm her, not when he had been looking for her as frantically as she, but he must have read it as clear as day on her face. He has always teased her about being an open book.

“Emma, where did you think I went?”

She opens her mouth but how does she explain such a thing? Her grip on his jacket tightens and she tries again to explain that there is a little voice that whispers to her when she is at her most vulnerable. One that tells her she isn’t good enough to keep anyone around for very long, one that tells her she doesn’t deserve him, but the words don’t come. She also wants to tell him how badly she wants to fight that little voice, how she didn’t want it to be true with him.

The front door opens and a group of young women tumble in, carrying with them their giggles and a current of cold air.

Emma shivers, tucking herself against Killian. His hand drops to her back, running up and down.

“Emma, you soaked through, sweetheart. Let’s get you dry.”

She buries her nose into his shirt, breathing in the warm, familiar scent of him.

“I’m fine.”

Another shiver and he tuts in disapproval, and she is grateful for the distraction from his question, for him not pushing it further, for now.

“We have to find a place to stay. They might have rooms here, we can ask,” she whispers as the girls pass and disappear up a staircase, dropping them into silence once again.

“I’ve booked us a hotel, with an ostentatiously large comfortable bed, eternal hot water, and room service. Come on,” he explains, finding her hand against his chest and giving it a squeeze.

“But? Why?”

He shakes his head and leans down to capture her lips in a slow, sure kiss. She chases after his lips when he finally pulls away, and looks up at him with heavy lidded eyes.

“I never want you to wonder where we’ll be sleeping again. We’ll keep it for as long as you want.”

“Killian,” she whispers, a touch of awe.

His lips brush her forehead before dropping her hand and walking over to wear she left her bag. He hikes it onto his back and comes back to join her, lending his hand out to her.

“Let’s set sail, love.”

She grabs on tightly but takes a last glance around.

“Wait, where’s Anna?”

“She slipped out with Kris. We’ll meet up with them tomorrow.”

Emma nods to herself but glances quickly towards the front desk. She finds the clerk, watching her over his book.

“Thank you, so much. Especially for the tea.”

He smiles and nods.

“Any time, the door is always opened.”

She leaves him with a last smile and lets Killian guide them to their hotel, never once letting go of her hand.

The room is only dimly lit by the small bedside lamp, casting a golden glow across the white duvet. The curtains are drawn tight, blocking the outside world from intruding in and muting the late night sounds. The quiet calm, only disrupted by the central air kicking on in a cyclical fashion. Emma takes it all in with long, slow looks and deep even breaths.

She sits crossed-legged in the middle of the king-sized bed, comfortably sinking into plush blankets. Her skin is pink from the hot water, fingers a little wrinkled from the generous amount of time she took in the shower and her hair sits in a messy bun a top her head. She is wrapped in a thick terry cloth robe, practically disappearing into the soft cotton and in no hurry to get dressed.

She spots her bag across the room, slumped on a chair and knows she could find something dry to sleep in but she doesn’t want to. All she wants to do is to crawl under the covers, feel the warmth of Killian’s skin against hers and sleep for days, but that would require Killian being back by her side.

She listens and hears the water still running in the bathroom, he too choosing to luxuriate in the first real shower they’ve had in a long time.

She’d tried to convince him to join her, but for once he stood his ground.

“If you’re in there with me, my mind will only be focused on one thing.”

She’d pouted but followed him into the large bathroom.

“But,” she’d tried but he simply silenced her with kiss.

“Most importantly, we need to warm you up and then we can have a nice chat.”

He turned the water on and the bathroom slowly filled with steam. Satisfied he’d turned and helped rid her of her wet clothes. Each layer he’d peeled away, he’d kissed a new spot. Her shirt came off, a kiss to her shoulder. He knelt while pulling her leggings down, he’d pressed his lips to the jut of her hip, warm breath lingering as he looked up. He’d given her a little amused head shake as she whispered please.

“Come here, just for a second,” she’d tried a new tactic and pulled him up. Her naked self, deliciously pressed to his clothed front.

She’d kissed him hard, feeling him hard. She’d sighed and it had been his turn to shiver.

“Emma,” he’d warned. “This is why,” he’d added, closing his eyes, and taking a deep breath before pulling away and pulling back the shower curtain.

“In you go. I’ll call for room service so it’s here when you get out.”

She’d finally reluctantly agreed and here she is now, waiting for him.

She spies the plate of goodies besides her and while she really isn’t that hungry, she can’t resist the hot chocolate, a sprinkle of cinnamon still decorating the top of the whipped cream.

And that’s how he finds her, in the middle of the bed, hands wrapped tightly around a mug, mid-sip.

When he hesitates at the edge of the room, clad only in boxer briefs, she finishes her sip and drops the mug on the end table, licking her lips and encouraging him to join her.

It doesn’t take much convincing before he’s pulling the covers back, settling against the headboard and before he can protest or explain why it’s not a good idea, she’s straddling his lap, her shy smile quieting any words of concern.

Her fingers trace his features, tucking a damp lock of hair behind his ear.

“You’re sure you won’t eat anything?” he asks, eyeing the barely touched plate.

She shakes her head slowly, finger tips running along the shell of his ear, down his neck and resting over his heart.

She likes that it beats just as wildly as hers.

“And you’re warm enough now?” he asks, hand running up under her robe to rest on her thigh.

A nod.

He gives her a wry smile.

“So am I going to have to guess why you were so surprised I found you? Or was it that I was looking for you at all? Or are you going to tell me?”

Her eyes leave his lips and look up, worried she is going to find a trace of anger or disappointment but what she finds is a smile and patience and something that might be love. She thinks of the words on her postcard.

And thinks it might be time to be a little brave.

“I -- for a moment I thought maybe you left. That you realized what a mess I was. That you’d had enough and it was the perfect out.”

“Emma, I’m not going anywhere.”

She looks for the lie and doesn’t see any.

“We could teach surfing in Doolin and eat fish and chips at that little diner every night,” he offers with a squeeze to her thigh.

“You were terrible at surfing.”

He shrugs, not offended.

“Eh, I was improving by the end.”

That gets a laugh out of her and a thought pops into her head, her own suggestion.

“We could run boat tour in Dingle.”

“And visit with Fungie every day,” he finishes for her, inciting another laugh.

But soon she falls quiet, eyes on her hands in her lap.

“Or,” she starts and stops.

He parts her robe just a bit and rest his warm hand over her frantically beating heart, her next suggestions on the very tip of her tongue.

“Or? Or what, Emma? Your heart is racing. Tell me.”

“Or we could go back to Storybrooke?” she finally asks, voice small, full of nerves, eyes downcast but his hand leaves her heart and trails up her neck, tipping her chin up.

“Okay.”

Emma blinks, the word barely registering. It couldn’t be that easy, could it?

“Just like that?” she asks.

“What did you think I was going to say?”

“You just -- you’ve never mentioned it.”

“Neither have you.”

“Killian.”

“Emma.”

She huffs and attempts to move off but his hand and wrist fall to her hips, keeping her in place.

“You just, you talk of all these exotic and extraordinary places that you’ve already been to and all these new places you want to see. But you’ve never once mentioned anything in the US, never mind Storybrooke.”

Now he does look at her like she’s at least a little crazy, so she forges on.

“I know Storybrooke may not be as glamorous as Rome or Bali or wherever, but I need to go back.”

“Emma, those are all places we can visit someday if we want to, but now? I just assumed I’d be going back with you. Did you not think I would be by your side? I’ll follow you anywhere, if you’ll have me.”

He looks away and seems to contemplate his next words.

“And perhaps I’ve been a little reluctant to talk about leaving because in one way, it means saying goodbye to Liam but--”

“It doesn’t!” she interrupts, cupping his face, passionate, sure of her statement and he smiles, turning his head to kiss her palm. “This is definitely not goodbye. This trip felt like a beginning and he’ll always be with you and any trip we take.”

“Thank you, I hope that’s true but that’s only part of what I need to explain. Perhaps you aren’t the only one with fears, Emma. I’ve quietly held onto my own worries, that you may not want me--” before he can finish his statement she covers his mouth with her hand.

“Take that back.”

And she doesn’t move her hand away until she sees the smile reach his eyes and the rumble of a chuckle in his chest.

“So does that mean you’ll have me?” he asks, hand slipping down to the knot in her robe.

“Of course.”

His fingers deftly undo the loose knot, warm hand parting her robe further, slipping it off her shoulders to pool around her waist.

“When do we leave?” he asks, moving closer, mouth finally, finally, moving along the curve of her neck, bringing goosebumps in its wake.

“Not right now.”

She feels his smile as his lips reach her jaw and move to her ear.

“How long do we have this room for again?” she asks, her voice grows softer with each press of his lips. She arches as he cups her breast, fingers finding her nipple, teasing, pinching and making her gasp.

“As long as you like.”

“A few days then, just you and me.”

Her hips rock slowly.

And she feels his groan against the curve of her shoulder before he flips them, hovering over her.

“As you wish,” he whispers as she helps him with his boxers, lowering them over his hips.

He moves against her, where she’s wet and aching for him, they both sigh.

“I’m sorry for running,” she whispers, voice tight with emotion.

He shakes his head, before capturing her lips, grounding her.

He pulls back, finding her eyes before sliding home, they both groan.

“You’ve nothing to be sorry. We’re here now, that’s all that matters.”

He pulls out before sliding back, stealing her breath and taking them late into the night, together.

The next few days tumble into a week, and while she would like to say they visited all the sights, explored Dublin, got lost in history and legend, in reality they barely left the room. They rarely got dressed for that matter and it was more than okay.

They did manage to see Anna and Kris once, where Emma pulled Anna aside and thanked her for everything.

And they did get dressed to taste some whiskey at the Jameson Distillery before tumbling back into bed, a little warm, a little drunk and full of laughs that melt into moans.

But catching her breath on her final days in Dublin, Emma thinks that she might remember those days and nights caught up in each other, just as clearly as some of the most beautiful cliffs and ancient castles.

She’ll remember the comfort she felt, waking up each day, knowing there was no end no matter what happened next.

It’s this comfort that allowed her to finally pick up the phone and reach out to David and Mary Margaret. With Killian by her side, nodding encouragingly, it had been easier to not hang up when someone picked up after the first ring. It was his hand in hers that helped her apologize for taking so long to call and when Mary Margaret had protested immediately, telling Emma to take all the time she needed, it was his smile that had her asking if they could and meet and talk when she got back home.

“Any time, any where, anything you need. Oh, thank you, Emma,” Mary Margaret had whispered and Emma had known it was finally time.

They booked their flight the next day.

And as their plane climbs higher and higher into the sky, and Dublin slowly disappears from view, she knows they’ll be back again one day.

“Okay?” he whispers as they reach cruising altitude. Emma casts a last look out the window before pulling down the shade.

“Perfect. Just tired.”

“Sleep then, I’ll be here when you wake.”

She drops her head to his shoulder and does just that.

“So this is where Emma Swan calls home,” Killian says as she lets them into her little apartment, flicking on a light and breathing in the familiar smell. She glances back to him as he drops his bag and kicks off his shoes.

“I think wherever you are is home.”

She says and quickly retreats further into the house, shaky hands holding the flowers that were on her doorstep when they arrived. She had told Mary Margaret and David when they were getting in and they had kindly sent a welcome home gift.

It was surreal. She couldn’t believe things were going this smoothly, that maybe she was allowed to be this lucky.

“Swan, are these all the postcards you wrote?”

His voice is distracted, far away. She freezes as she fills a vase with water but then after a beat she lets out a slow breath.

“Unless someone else was sending me post cards.”

“Will you allow me the honor of reading them?”

She smiles at his words and then thinks of what saying yes would mean.

Should he? So many of her truths are on there. So many words to him. Now that she thinks of it, they weren’t so much postcards as love letters to Killian.

“Now?”

“Mmm,” comes his distracted reply, maybe already glancing at the back. Although she knows if she says no, he’ll drop it. It’s that truth that makes her say yes.

“Sure, go for it. I’ll just be in my room, second door on the right,” she finally responds, not like he won’t be able to find her in the small space.

She thinks maybe she can unpack, maybe she should shower, maybe -- maybe she can’t do anything until he comes to find her or she hears the front door slam shut after he runs away. She shakes the image right out of her head. She knows he won’t do that but what will he think?

Minutes pass and she settles at the edge of the bed, lying back and letting her legs dangle over the edge. She counts her breaths in an attempt to stay calm. After awhile she hears his quiet footfalls down the hall, until they come to a stop in her room.

“Emma,” he whispers but she can’t bring herself to move. She closes her eyes and he walks in further. She feels him standing at the edge of the bed, knees brushing her bent ones.

“Is it too much?”

She peeks up at him through one eye.

“You’re impossible,” he mutters in the most loving way possible and then he tells her to wait and disappears. She hears him unzip his bag and rummage around.

He comes back, still only her postcards visible in his hand.

“I love all of these. Thank you for letting me see a little glimpse into your thoughts but I have to admit, there is one I like one most of all.”

He holds up the last one, the one holding the words ingrained in her mind. She holds her breath.

“I do, I do,” he echoes the last line to her and she scrambles to sit up.

“You do?” she whispers, her question imbued with hope, with awe.

“I do. I love you too.”

She’s not going to cry again, she not going to -- he tosses the postcards onto the bed, scattering beside her and reaches into his pocket.

“Whoa.”

He smiles indulgently, fingers holding a small black velvet box.

Holy shit.

“Calm down, Swan. I’m not proposing but this is a promise. That it’s you and me, Emma, as long as you’ll have me. I don’t want you to worry about --”

“Yes.”

His words trail off and his eyebrow pops up, a grin she loves so much, pulling at his lips.

“Swan?”

“I’m not worried, not about you. It’s you and me.”

He opens the box and gently removes the ring, and even though it’s not a proposal, when he slips the delicate claddagh ring on her finger, she knows it’s forever.

“I’m so glad you found me.”

“Always.”

“And not just that day in Dublin.”

“I know, Swan and I’m pretty sure you found me too.”

He kisses her again and again, following her onto the bed.

She cups his face, pulling back long enough to make sure she has his attention.

“I love you.”

“And I you.”

She pulls him down again, vowing to never ever let go.

THE END.

---

My goodness. That’s it.

Thank you for reading, I loved writing these two and thank you for coming along on their journey.

It’s possible I may write a look into their future because I don’t want to say goodbye but... we’ll see.

Have I said thank you! <3

#cs ff #cs fanfic #csbb #csbb 2018 #captain swan #cs au #captain swan big bang #lana writes cs #fic: beauty in the aftermath #dear god it's done #i can't even believe it

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witchxng · 7 years ago

Text

I’ve had a bunch of new followers lately, so I wanted to do a get to know the blogger tag!

1. What have you eaten today?

I had eggs and fruit for breakfast, and I’m making a salad for lunch rn

2. Who was your last kiss with? Was it pleasant?

It was with my ex, and it was delightful, but thinking about it makes me sad

3. What color shoes did you last wear?

Black, big surprise there

4. Who has made you laugh the hardest in the last week?

My best friend, Kaelyn!

5. What is your favorite scent?

Pine needles

6. What is your favorite season? Why?

Autumn, it is so beautiful

7. Can you do a handstand or cartwheel?

Neither, nope!

8. What color are your nails?

They are currently baby blue

9. If you had to get a tattoo on your face to save your life, what would it be?

I would get a crescent moon, I kind of want that anyway ha

10. What is something you find romantic?

Long walks at dusk

11. Are you happy?

I think so

12. Is there anything in particular making you happy or sad?

Adding to my crystal collection always makes me extra happy!

13. Dogs or Cats?

Cats!!!

15. Which do you prefer:a museum, a night club, the forest or a library?

The forest, I identify as a green witch!

15. What is your style?

Witchy :)

16. If you could be doing anything you like right now, what would it be?

I would be in a cottage in the woods, working on an altar

17. Are you in a relationship or single?

Single

18. What makes you attracted to the person you like right now?

He’s nice to me at work, but that’s about it. Super high standards, ha.

19. If you could replace your partner/best friend with a celebrity of your choice, would you? Who with?

Hell no

20. Are you holding on to something you need to let go of? If so then what?

I’m holding on to a lot of resentment and regret, I hope I can let it go soon

21. How did you celebrate last Halloween?

Did some tarot readings and handed out candy to the kids!

22. Have you recently made any big decisions?

Not really, life has been pretty mundane

23. Were you ever in a school play?

No, I was always too shy in school

24. What movie would you use to describe your life?

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

25. Is there something you have dreamed of doing for a long time? Why haven’t you done it?

I’ve dreamed of owning my own flower shop, but you know, money

26. Complete this sentence, “I wish I had someone with whom I could share…”

I wish I had someone with whom I could share my passions with

27. What are two things that irritate you about the same sex?

Girls can be very catty, and superficial

28. What are two things that irritate you about the opposite sex?

Boys can be very rude, and aggressive

29. What is the best thing that has happened to you this week?

My aunt found out she is pregnant!

30. What is something that makes you sad when you think about it?

Oh, there are a lot of things. Thinking about how I can barely afford rent is currently making me sad.

31. How long was your longest relationship?

A year and a half

32. Have you ever been in love?

Yes, I miss it

33. Are you currently in love?

I don’t think so

34. Why did your last relationship end?

A lot of reasons. He was mean to me, he found someone new, I didn’t make him happy. The list goes on. It was a mess.

35. What jewelry are you wearing right now, and where did you get it?

I’m wearing an amethyst pendant that I got off of etsy, and a couple rings I’ve gotten from different craft fairs!

36. When was the last time you cried and why?

Yesterday, because of Jacob ha

37. Name someone pretty.

I think Emma Watson is so pretty

38. What did you receive last Valentines Day?

Sunflowers and a very sweet note

39. Do you get jealous easily?

Unfortunately, yes

40. Have you ever been cheated on?

Again, unfortunately, yes 41. Do you trust your partner/best friend?

I don’t currently have a partner, but I trust my best friend with my life

42. Ever had detention?

I did fairly often in high school, I was a little shit

43. Would you rather live in the countryside or the city?

COUNTRYSIDE

44. What do people call you?

Hannah, Han, Anna, Hannah Banana, Han Solo

45. What was the last book you read?

The Book Thief! It was so good!

46. How big of a nerd/dork are you?

The biggest nerd

47. What kind of music do you listen to?

I like indie/acoustic music!!!

48. How tall are you?

5′3″, I’m a shrimp ha

49. Do you like kids?

I like babies, but kids stress me out

50. Favorite fruits?

All of the above, ha. My top favorite though is pineapple.

51. Do you wear jeans or sweats more?

Black jeans :)

52. What’s your earliest memory?

Running around my grandma’s yard during the spring

53. Ever had a poem or song written about you or to you?

I wish! That would so romantic

54. Do you prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?

Behind it, I am so shy

55. Do you have a collection of anything?

I have too many collections! Crystals, tarot cards, shells, postcards, and pressed flowers are my biggest collections

56. Do you save money or spend it?

I try to save when I can, but I have so many expenses to keep up with

57. What would your dream house be like?

Tiny cottage in the woods, covered in ivy with a wildflower garden (I’m a basic witch, I know)

58. What top 5 things make you the angriest?

Animal abusers, people who litter, bigots, people with no respect, out of touch wealthy people

59. What top 5 things always brings a smile to your face? Witchcraft :), my best friend, cats, rainstorms, good movies

60. You are walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss has told you if you are late one more time you get fired. What do you do?

Save the dog, every time

61. 72: You are at the doctor’s office and she has just informed you that you have approximately one month to live. a) Do you tell anyone/everyone you are going to die? b) What do you do with your remaining days? c) Would you be afraid?

I would tell only those closest to me, I would spend my remaining days do whatever I really wanted to do that day, and I wouldn’t be afraid at all.

62. Give me the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word; heart.

December 7th

63. You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go?

I’m going to Salem!!!

64. Do you like the beach?

I do!

65. Ever sleep on the couch or a bed with someone special?

I used to all of the time. I miss it, I hate sleeping alone.

66. Do you have a middle name? If so what is it!

It is Amelia!

67. Do you talk to yourself?

All of the time, I probably look crazy

68. Describe your hair.

Shoulder length, fading from box dye blue to an ashy gray

69. What is the meaning of life.

The meaning of life is to live

70. What is your ideal partner like?

Kind, faithful, funny, passionate, and supportive.

71. Do you want to get married?

Maybe one day, if I can find the right person

72. Do you want to have kids?

I don’t think so

73. Like or dislike your family?

They try their best, but my family is dysfunctional and it can be hard to get along with them

74. Are you Chunky or Slim?

A lil chunky

75. Would you consider yourself smart?

I would say yes

76. What would you change about your life?

My financial situation, ha

77. Religious or Not?

I’m a practicing wiccan!

78. You’re drunk and yelling at hot guys/girls out of your car window, you’re with?

My best friend, Kaelyn! She’s the outgoing/outspoken one between the two of us

79. You’re locked in a room with the last person you kissed, is that a problem?

It would be a HUGE problem, I don’t think Jacob and I can be in the same room anymore

80. Does anyone regularly (other than family) tell you they love you?

Kaelyn does :)

81. If the person you wish to be with were with you, what would you be doing right now?

We would be in his car, parked somewhere late at night, and just talking and laughing

82. So, the last person you kissed just happens to arrive at your door at 3AM; do you let them in?

My better judgement would say no, but I know I would always let him in

83. Do you like when people play with your hair?

YES

84. Do you like bubble baths?

I do, but I like oil baths better!

85. Have you ever been pulled over by a cop?

Yes, I drive way too fast :X

86. Have you ever danced in the rain?

I try to whenever I can

87. Do you trust anyone with your life?

I trust Kaelyn with anything and everything

88. What was your first thought when you woke up this morning?

“I want to go back to bed”

89. If money wasn’t an issue, what top 10 places would you travel to? (You get to stay at each place for a week)

Salem, Paris, Dublin, Yosemite, Amsterdam, Brussels, Montreal, Sicily, Switzerland, London

90. How was your day today?

It’s been alright, just kind of boring to be honest

91. Play an instrument?

I used to play clarinet in school

92. Describe the what you think of the ocean.

It is breathtaking

93. Do you believe in aliens or ghosts?

Both!!!

94. Honestly, are things how you wanted them to be?

NOPE

95. Do you have a mean bitchy scary side?

No, I’m a big softie

96. When are you vulnerable?

Um all of the time ha

97. How much free time do you have?

I work two jobs, so not much

98. Do you like to go hiking?

Absolutely!

99. Odd or Even Numbers?

Odd 100. Would you ever go sky diving, bungee jumping , cliff diving, wing suit gliding, parasailing, snorkeling, or other extreme activities?

Yes to all of the above!

TAG 15 FOLLOWERS TO DO THE GET TO KNOW THE BLOGGER TAG:

@woodland-lullaby @mysticnymphmagic @lookingforsummerland @floofypeach @forest-elf @shethinksoutsidethebox @pop-punk-dre @sugarmoonwitch @forgetmehots @meishallaneous @grimlilli @paganomicon @basil-witch @throwinstonesnc @starlightorchestra

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aggresivelyfriendly · 7 years ago

Photo

~Meet Me In The Hallway~

Huge shout out to @emulateharry And @nocontrolforlouis for their eagle eyes and cheerleading!!

Chapter 4- Detour

I thought about Harry everyday while I was home, a month in someone’s bed could do that. That was the sadness of geography.It was the worst the first week home, when I hadn’t heard from him and my sleepless nights were full of reverie. I, surprisingly, missed tour.

When my brother had first broached, well, insisted, that I go on tour with him, I had looked at the months-long break scheduled between April and June with relish. I was excited to get home and check in with my friends from secondary school. I had plans and I was ready to tell them all about my big gap year adventure.

But being home was not nearly as exciting as I had hoped it would be. I didn’t have as many friends to share with as I thought and many of the things I mot wanted to share, I could not. When we had first left for the road, I had been excited, but nervous and unsure. I'd sat on that first plane and wondered if I would not be better off in Australia, going straight to university. The first several days on tour, maybe the first weeks had been exhausting and overwhelming and exhilarating. And I had loved it. I missed the people and the crew and the band. And I missed Harry.

Truth was, that I had underestimated how much of my day revolved around the time I spent with Harry. I'd wake up, often in his bed and lately, wrapped in his increasingly inked arms. He'd groan in my ear about being exhausted until I brow beat him out of bed and he got in the shower. I'd order his breakfast then, our breakfast, his black coffee and my milky tea, that he'd grumble about, rashers and eggs if he was hungry, oatmeal and egg whites if he was listening to Mark. I gauged his mood and made his order based upon that.

I'd wait for him to get dressed and we would eat together on the couch in his suite before I scrounged up clothes which were usually my own mixed with his. Then he'd walk me to the door and kiss my forehead when he hugged me goodbye, as though there was more that a couple hours that separated us.

I'd wander across the hallway, ignoring the sock and the scantily-clad girl often in my brother's bed. I'd shower and go out to see wherever we were. Since our conversation about what Harry felt he was missing, I’d try to see whatever city we'd been in through his eyes. My phone would buzz often with his random thoughts and horrible jokes. And I'd send him pictures of the places I went, trying my best to experience the place for both of us.

In Glasgow, the second time around, I sent him snapshots of Buchanan Street and selfies from the Art Lover's house. His reactions were wonderful. He would send back pictures of his silly faces. When I showed him the pub I was sat in he made a pun

“Hey where did my Glas Go?” He wrote.

So I sent him a picture of my boisterous response with the caption, “People are staring at me!”

“Course they are” He returned. And it made heart flutter. It was flirty and I couldn’t reckon whether I should chalk it up to his personality, or the way we related to each other now, or, my hope, something more.

His respones were more than flirty. They carried an air of jealousy.

“Ah, I’ve always wanted to go there…” One read as I walked the cobbled royal mile. I knew that.

“Have a black russian for me!”

“Gross!” Was my caption as I dutifully sent a picture back to him of me swilling the vodka back.

“Really?” his disbelief was full.

“I don’t like alcohol, really.” I returned. He knew that, I thought.

“Well, you have to like it in Scotland. It’s a rule. I’m surprised you aren’t being forced to drink whiskey. I’ve wanted to try that too, have some for me.” He hadn’t mentioned whiskey before and I was going to count my dues paid.

I wanted to tell him these were not the places I would choose, but where I thought he'd want to go. I would have seen the cathedral's stained glass, not the drinks from some pub on Buchanan Street. In Dublin, I went to the Guinness factory, though I loathed the dark brew, because he and Niall had blathered on about it on the ride back to the hotel one time.

After my Harry inspired tours. I'd join the boys at the arena. I'd do the crazy hair the boys favored, with enough hairspray to hopefully withstand their water fights and try to even out their skin tones before they told me to fuck off. The water fights seemed to be a catching affliction. The 1D boys had started them too, and Lou was bemoaning her fate as she watched them destroy her work side stage. I heard the ‘fuck’s sake’ under her breath and chuckled. I’d given up that fight.

While my brother warmed up the crowd who made it early enough to catch them, I’d stay backstage. I told myself that I had watched them a lifetime's worth. I'd watch Harry ride around on a Segway, imagining his front to my back. I missed the length of him against me when the sun was out and more as it waned.

What would it feel like to have his front pressed to my back in daylight while we squealed and chased Niall around?

Then during my favorite part of the day, I'd watch the big show. I knew my focus always drifted to Harry from side stage, but I figured no one was watching me, except him. He'd occasionally give me a smirk or wink, and I suppressed the thrill it would give me.

On the way back, I'd pretend to try to ride back with my brother and his band, but was easily convinced to ride with the British lads instead. Usually squished in, thigh and shoulder next to the boy who I spent most of my time preoccupied about. We'd go our separate ways then, until I was kicked out, or as was happening more often lately, I'd wander down or across or through the hallway to his door. He'd order room service and we'd talk, or watch a movie, cuddle or sleep.

Going to sleep in Harry's bed had become the best part of my day when his light snores began as soon as his head hit the pillow. I swore sometimes just the act of leaning towards the pillow put him out. His breath would rustle my hair. My days of sleeping on the other side of the bed had ended before they'd really begun. Now I smelled his shower gel and minty breath all night, and could kick off the unnecessary blanket. I didn't need any additional help staying warm. Harry's t-shirt and body heat did that plenty well.

I thought about all these things in my own bed and wished I was back there. Those were the some of the things I was missing during the break. After my serious jet lag wore off, I found it took ages to fall asleep at night. The first two days I woke up confused and alone, but I'd slept like the dead. A day of travel took three days to recover from, and I thought of the next tour legs with dread, and wonder. That first normal night home, as I was restless and cold and the bed beside me, the single bed that had no room to share, still felt big and empty. The next legs of the tour involved some horrid flights, but they also meant a shared bed. I hoped at least.

There was no telling what it would be like when we got back, what the European dates would mean,maybe Harry would have found a girlfriend, a real one, where there was no space between the two words, where there was no pause before going to bed. The kisses on the foreheads were replaced by lips and tongue and the cuddling was not mildly arousing, but a precursor to more.

I'd felt it once, well, more than once, really. But those were mostly in the morning. Those could be written off, I thought. I'd heard a lot of jokes about morning wood, being the only girl in a smelly van with grotty boys driving across vast distances, then sharing buses and hotel rooms would instruct anybody in their dirty ways. I think sometimes it was just biology. There had been a couple of times, once or twice, that I tried not to think of, when it hadn't been morning.

Once, it had been after a rom-com, my choice, on the couch, and a shared plate of fries. There had been a bit of a food fight and Harry had wound up pressing me down into the bed. His slim thighs notching between my own as he forced salty potatoes into my laughing mouth.

"Eat it!" he'd ordered. "I dare you to tell me they have better fries down under."

I'd shook my head, pushing against him, but he was so much stronger and inches taller, so I just kept my mouth shut. When he had reached up to tickle my sides, the battle had been lost, and the fries and his fingers had found my mouth.

"Eat em," his command was softer then, and I'd complied, a little out of breath myself. My lips had closed around his fingers, sucking the salt as he pulled them away. I'd chewed the mushed fries and become conscious of where he was pressed into me, along me.

He seemed aware too, or his anatomy was. I could feel him, thick and growing against my heat. It felt different to when I'd fumbled in the back of cars after dates. It felt better.

"Good?" He'd asked, retracting his hips and coloring pink.

I'd nodded, not trusting my voice and let him excuse himself to the bathroom. My mind had followed him in there, and I'd used my limited knowledge to fill in my imagination's wish. I closed my eyes and watched him stroke himself and bit my own lip as I hoped he bit his. My hand wandered over my breast and my right palm had slid down over the soft cotton of his t-shirt I was wearing.

But, the bathroom door had opened too soon and I'd spent the night frustrated. I'd curled my body into Harry's andhe fell asleep even faster found myself wriggling like a fish on a hook. I nearly straddled his leg. But the thought of explaining myself, of why I was riding his thigh, kept me to myself. And the humid feel between my legs finally faded enough for me to sleep.

Another night, I'd woken to a firm friction along my backside and stretched back into it. I could tell Harry was still asleep, so I catalogued the feel of him. He murmured in his sleep and said my full name, one he never had used before. It slipped from his mouth. "Melody," he breathed into my hair. I was so charged up, surprised maybe, that I had to get up and go to the bathroom, I sat on my hands in the cold bathroom and forbid myself from touching between my legs in his presence.

He was dreaming, and I was the only girl he was around. I told myself this and more - that he hadn't been laid in months, because he was spending his time with me; that we had developed a friendship, but he was a 19 year old boy wrapped around a nearly 19 year old girl, and his physiology overruled his sense. He was sleeping, it meant nothing.

Except to me.

I missed all these things about him.

It was the end of our first week home when I heard from Harry.

My phone buzzed with a picture of his new bedroom in his new London house. “I think I hate sleeping alone here," he said.

"I can’t sleep either," I'd replied.

"Course not. It's morning for you."

"No, last night. Doofus."

"You just miss sleeping with me."

I tried to cover my blushing response with my usual armor of humor. "That's the thing, I figured I'd be able to catch up on all that sleep your snoring robbed me of."

"You love it."

I scoffed to hide my blush, because, oh god, I did.

#harry styles #Harry Styles fanfiction #Harry Styles fanfic #Harry Styles imagine #meet me in the hallway #mmith #chapter 4 #detour

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