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justmeinatree · 2 years ago

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07 - Made Of Something New : Telephone

Summary : you meet niall in your hotel bar. and there’s an intense connection.

previous part /// jump to pt. 1

TW : smut, cheating (not on you, but none the less)

Word Count : 2.5k

Series Masterlist

A/N : she’s short, she’s sweet, ENJOY HER. and maybe take the opportunity to mentally prepare yourself for the next part. ✌️

GIF : @horansqueen

March 02 - Telephone

it was the incessant vibrating coming from your bag that made you actually stop to check.

you’d just arrived in south korea, making your way down the long hotel hallway to find your room, tugging your suitcase along behind you.

you stop in the middle of the hall, rummaging through your purse to find your phone, hand finally grasping it.

it was a video call notification from niall’s private instagram. you furrow your brows as you look up to see that you’ve actually stopped right in front of your room. quickly letting yourself in, you answer the call.

“niall ?” you hum as his face comes into view, “to what do i owe the honour ?”

“hi petal,” he murmurs, taking in the image. “are you in a hotel ?”

“yeah, just landed in south korea. our company is opening a new division here. welcome to my home for the next 10 days.”

“fuck,” you hear him mutter, as you make your way to the bed, sitting comfortably to speak with him. “south korea for 10 days ?” he checks, making you nod. “fuck, fuck, m’stuck in the UK for some song writing. i- um,” he trails off.

“what’s wrong ni ?” you ask softly, finally having a chance to take in his appearance. there’s large bags under his eyes, his face looking sunken. not a single ounce of him looks like he’s okay.

you were with him two and a half weeks ago in sweden. you can’t even being to fathom what’s happened in his life to make him look so down on himself.

“i- i wanted to fly you out here,” he admits quietly, eyes shifting down to avoid your gaze. “i can’t leave, i have to be in london for a bit. just-“ he sighs, shaking his head, fingers digging into his eyes. “just needed you so bad.”

“i can’t leave either,” you murmur softly, really not wanting to upset him any more. “i have to be here right now. will a video call do for the time being ?” you ask hopefully.

you see his eyes squeeze tighter, as he bites his lip, nodding yes. he really didn’t have much of a choice did he ? it was quite literally this or nothing.

but it killed you to see him so upset. your chest was so heavy, your heart was shattering, watching him like this. he still hasn’t let you in, in regards to what’s been so clearly bothering him for months now. you weren’t one to pry, but if whatever it is was affecting him this badly, he needed to talk with someone.

“i’m sorry niall, so sorry,” you coo softly. “you know that if i could, i would be there. it’s a serious downside to both our jobs, unfortunately.”

“i know,” niall groans, a stray tear running down his cheek, which he swipes away quickly. “i fuckin hate it. need you so bad,” he adds quietly, sighing.

“do you wanna talk about what’s going on ?” you ask quietly. “i want to make you feel better.”

but he shakes his head, no, taking a deep breath, as he looks over you. looks over your face, the concern etched on your features. looks over your neck and shoulders, the headboard you were leaning against, the bags under your eyes from the long haul flight.

“wanna forget,” niall whispers, eyes locking on yours. “you’re the only thing that makes me forget. the only thing that makes it better. you’re fucking intoxicating, petal.”

you bite your lip, listening to him, watching his lips curl over each word. this was such a fucking tease. he was right there, his voice was ringing in your ears, but you couldn’t feel him like you did when he was in your presence. you still feel the pit in your chest, ever present since you said goodbye in sweden.

“are you suggesting phone sex ?” you hum, getting a bit cozier against the pillows behind you, relaxing yourself into the mountain of decorative cushions.

“would you wanna do that ? i mean- is that okay ?” he asks, clear nerves taking over his features, as you watch him shuffle in his seat, a small, barely there, hitch in his breath.

“are you touching yourself already ?” you ask, a shot of warmth spreading through your body, settling right between your legs.

“always make me so hard, pet. couldn’t help myself,” he groans. “are you okay with this ?” he asks again, wanting a real answer from you.

“yes,” you breathe, “m’already wet.”

“show me pup, c’mon,” niall hums, watching the screen attentively. everything that weighed so heavily on his mind, gone in an instant. that’s the kind of power you have over him, and he’s a sucker for it. knows it too. “wanna see how wet you are, please.”

you shuffle yourself out of your pants and panties all at once, perching your phone between your feet, the camera angled right at your pussy, your fingers delving in tentatively, spreading your arousal for niall to see, a moan of relief escaping you.

you hear niall groan painfully as he watches, “christ puppy, look at you. such a beautiful little cunt. so wet for me too, fuck.”

you whimper, biting your lip, as your fingers flick over your clit a few times, looking down at the camera, “tell me what to do, ni.”

you can hear the hitch in niall’s breath, his eyes scanning over your soaked pussy. “dip your fingers down, petal. gather some of that sweetness. taste yourself for me.”

without so much as a second thought, you do as you’re told, fingertips swirling over your entrance, pulling them away to suck on them.

niall watches the string of arousal connecting your fingers to your centre, snapping somewhere over your tummy, heart rate picking up as he watches you, “such a good girl, listen to me so well. fuckin look at you, got me jealous of some fingers.”

you moan around your middle and ring fingers, hips bucking on instinct. being able to hear him, and see him, has your brain in a chokehold. almost confusing in a way, as your body searches his, only to find an empty space.

“can i touch ? please, niall,” you whine, hips searching for any bit of friction. “please, fuck, want you so bad.”

“m’right here with you, pup,” niall coos, hearing the desperation in your voice. which he understands all too well. it’s an absolute mindfuck having you on the phone like this. he swears he can almost feel the flutter of your cunt. “touch yourself. like i would yeah ? tease yourself, sweet girl. wanna see you dripping onto the mattress.”

you bite your lip, holding back tears, as your fingers make contact with your heat again. tears of relief, getting some sort of touch where you were craving it most. but also tears of frustration, wanting nothing more than to feel niall right now.

but you do as told, not sure your brain could comprehend doing otherwise. niall’s got such an incredible hold on you. within minutes, on a videochat, he has you soaking wet, begging for more. you’re not sure you want to imagine how intense it would be if he was with you right now.

as the connection you both have has grown in intensity, you’ve also had to deal with lengthy breaks from each other. this being the first form of contact, in such a short period of time, has seemingly made the connection grow infinitely stronger. you think you’re really understanding what he means when he refers to you as intoxicating.

you keep the light swirling of your fingertips over your heat, cunt clenching over nothing whenever you swipe by your entrance.

niall’s in a trance, his hand working over himself slowly, watching your arousal make it’s way down your bum, a small puddle forming on the bed. he’s never wanted to bury his face in a hotel room comforter, more than he does right this second.

“look at you, puppy. makin a fuckin mess of your clean sheets,” he groans breathily, eyes never leaving your pussy. “put your fingers in, make yourself feel good, pretty girl.”

you do not have to be told twice, your fingers curling into yourself instantly, your walls sucking them in, thankful for the relief.

you moan, a little louder than you ever have from just your fingers, hips rolling into your hand, clit grinding against your palm.

“needy little thing aren’t ya ?” niall hums, picking up the pace on his cock, so fucking turned on by you and your willingness to do this. “destroyed that cunt a couple weeks ago, and already fuckin whining for more. unbelievable you are.”

“niall,” you whimper, your fingers curling harder into your sweet spot, rubbing tight circles against your inner walls. “niall, fuck, i need more.”

“christ,” niall groans, squeezing his eyes shut, because fuck, he needs more too. he needs you. “gotta cum just like this pup, fuck, wish i could give you more. put another finger inside yourself, 2 of yours isn’t enough is it ?”

you quickly slide your index, along with your other fingers, back inside you, a loud moan echoing through your hotel room, back arching off the bed.

“s’that better, pet ? wanna see you cum so bad. fuck, wanna see you squeeze your fingers. hear you moan. will you cry out my name ? pretend i’m right there with ya,” niall bites his lip, his fist tightening over his cock, watching your hand fuck yourself raw, chasing your high.

“fuck, niall,” you whimper louder, legs trembling, your breath hitching. “keep talking to me, please.”

“yeah ? need me to talk you through it ?” he coos, watching attentively, as your pussy starts fluttering around your fingers. “getting close aren’t you ? fuck, can feel your cunt clenching my cock. you’d take me so well right now wouldn’t ya ? let me do whatever i wanted. fuckin wreck you if i was there.”

you feel the orgasm coming on, your head thrown back, neck exposed.

niall can see it from this angle, his fingers twitching as he breathes out, “look at your fuckin throat, puppy. christ, i wanna wrap my hand around your neck so bad. feel you cum instantly around my cock. soak me so good petal.”

that’s what it took, you can almost swear you can feel his long fingers wrapped around your neck, squeezing at the sides of your throat.

“s’working, yeah ? fuck, pup, you’re cumming aren’t ya ? christ,” he groans, cumming instantly, as he watches your body go rigid, jaw going slack around a silent moan, your pussy squeezing your fingers so tight, they can barely fit.

“niall, fuck,” you moan out the moment you can gasp in a breath, the aftershocks of your orgasm making your body tremble.

“so fuckin beautiful when you’re cumming,” niall hums, looking over you, adding with a slight painful edge, “wanna kiss you so bad right now.”

you whimper, biting your lip, and nodding, as you reach for your phone, bringing it back up to your face, looking over him, whispering, “i miss you so much.”

you watch as niall lowers his head into his hands, shaking his head, “miss you too, petal. so fucking much.” he takes a deep breath, looking back up at you, “does this make it worse ? should i not have called ?”

running your fingers through your hair, you think about that for a moment. because the call somehow makes you want him more, makes you long for him more than you were just moments before he’d rang you. but you also feel so empty. like a huge hole in your heart is just waiting to be filled.

that thought scares you. because you know that it can’t ever happen. you know that he’s spoken for. he’s taken. you’re just the escape. the drug. the pick-me up. the side thing. and you’re constantly pushing any feelings you have, aside, as a way to protect yourself. because the truth is, you’d rather torture yourself this way, than never see him again.

so you shake your head no, to answer his question, “it makes me miss you more,” you admit. “but i love seeing you so much.”

he smiles at you, fingertips tentatively reaching out for the screen, as if he could actually caress your cheek, “my beautiful girl. fuck, i wish i could feel you.”

you curl into the bed, pulling the blankets up a bit, laying on your side comfortably, as you watch him. the things you’ve been anxiously wanting to ask him, the things weighing heavily on your mind, right on the tip of your tongue. the obvious distance provided by the phone, probably helping.

“hey ni,” you murmur, “i know you’ve been saying that you don’t wanna talk about whatever’s been so obviously bothering you. but it absolutely kills me to see you getting sadder and sadder every time i see you. i’m worried that i’m not really fixing anything.”

“no, petal,” he shakes his head, quick to answer, because what the fuck ? you’d never mentioned any kind of worry before. “you make everything better. you make everything comfortable. make everything good. can’t even bring myself to imagine what it would be like without you.”

“that’s what worries me,” you murmur. “you’ve said that i’m like a drug to you. that’s not good ni. that’s like a quick numbing agent. i want to help you. for real. i want to be your comfort, and your safe space. but i fear that as time goes on, if you keep ignoring the real problem, you’ll just crave the escape more, and you’ll end up crashing harder every time. s’like a true drug addiction.”

“what do you want me to say right now ?” niall asks, eyebrows furrowing. “say that my home life is absolute shite because my perfect girl is sitting somewhere in sou-“ he quickly cuts himself off, sitting up straight in bed, eyes going wide.

“fuck, fuck, i gotta go,” he says suddenly, look of shock and fear taking over his features, as you catch a faint, “ni, sweetie, i’m home. where are you ?” in the background.

“i really gotta go,” niall whispers, eyes glassy with unshed tears, as he looks over you one last time. “m’sorry, petal.”

and the screen goes blank, that being the last you hear from him.

Part 8

……

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tags : @acesofspadess

#niall horan #niall horan fic #niall horan fanfic #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan blurb #niall horan one shot #niall horan imagine #smut #niall horan smut #niall horan x reader #niall horan x you #niall horan masterlist #niall horan writings #niall horan series #writings #justmeinatree #hello lovers #one direction

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farfromstrange · 2 years ago

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Chaos Theory | Michael Kinsella x Reader

Chapter 3: I'll Show You Every Version Of Myself Tonight

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Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader

Summary: Michael recalls what happened during the day, and he tells you the truth (kind of).

Warnings: Angst, mention of death, non-sexual intimacy, Michael just hates himself, description of a seizure, slight hint at a panic attack (?), Everyone telling Mikey what to do (and they're being assholes about it)

Word Count: 7.7k

A/n: As promised, this is the day from Michael's POV, and explaining why he was so desperate that night (and wanted to get away for a few days). I struggled a lot with so many characters and writing their accents, so I apologize for any mistakes! Also, we have some plot in here and some of the other Kinsella family members, but nothing too major. Also, I do not accept any Birdy slander!

His hand strokes leisurely over your bare thigh. You’re lying with your head toward the headboard while he’s lying the other way around; He’s propped himself up on a pillow at your feet and draws absentminded shapes on your skin.

Silence has settled over you. Your eyes are closed, your breathing steady, but you’re not asleep. He can tell by how you react to his touch.

Your skin feels like silk under his fingers. You offer a little bit of calm, the end he had been begging for after this awful day, and being with you now, still close but not holding each other, he revels in the intimacy of it all. You share time without talking, and maybe that’s a bad idea with how many secrets are between you, but that is not what bothers him.

“What are you thinking about?” your gentle whisper breaks through the silence, but it doesn’t burst the bubble you have formed around yourselves.

Michael sits up, He’s wearing boxers and nothing else, and the closer he gets, the more the temptation rises to run your hand through his hair – all of his hair. You reach out to touch his torso. His chest hair feels soft under your fingers.

He sighs wearily. One of his arms hooks around your bent knee and he places his head upon it. You look at him from your comfortable place on the pillows. There is something about your eyes that puts him into a state of awe. Your hand is still stroking his chest, but it’s not sexual, it’s caring, it’s a silent testament.

“Today was…” he’s not sure how to describe it. Every single one of his days feels weird somehow.

You pulled him somewhat back into the present, but deep inside, he still lives in the past. In his mind, he finds himself back in prison sometimes, and that’s terrifying. He has adapted behaviorisms that he would have never thought possible like keeping the untouched food out instead of throwing it away, not shaving, only showering at certain times and most of all, he still struggles to sleep in a bed. He tried. After meeting you, it became easier, but he feels himself slipping back into the same patterns from before.

“What?” you ask.

He shrugs.

“Talk to me, please.”

With you, nothing can hurt him, he thinks.

“I went to see Anna this mornin’,” Michael says, and if you hadn’t focused on him, you wouldn’t have been able to hear his voice. That’s how quietly he admits it to you.

You frown. He can tell the thoughts are connecting in your mind.

You know a little about family law in the UK, but you have never thought about what it would look like in Ireland.

You know from experience that if you’re single, unemployed, fresh out of university, and merely twenty-one years old, a court probably won’t grant you custody of a one-year-old. Even if you’re related. Even if you tell the court that the biological parents – or one of them, at least, even though ignoring abuse can also be counted as such – are abusive and controlling toward their other children. Without proof, they won’t believe you, and if they don’t believe you, you won’t get custody.

And if you were in prison for eight years after being convicted for the wrongful death of your own wife… well, chances are that getting custody or even visitation rights as the biological parent is going to be a hard task unless the child isn’t safe where it is now – but Anna is safe, from what you heard from Michael. And the court isn’t sure if he bettered himself enough to be a father to her. After all, he connects to very serious trauma that a child her age shouldn’t even have to carry, and even though the courts are sometimes unjust when it comes to custody battles, they are very vigilant in this case.

You get it, but you also see a side of Michael the authorities don’t seem to get. He’s a good man. He deserves the chance to at least reconnect with his little girl after being deprived of her for so long.

You know how much it hurts not being close to someone you love, although in your case, it was your own choice to leave. Still, the pain is grand and anyone who has to carry it might tend to make stupid decisions along the way. Like seeing the very same daughter he is not supposed to even be near.

“Are you allowed to?” you ask because maybe he is and you read it all wrong.

But then he shakes his head and he says, “No.”

“Michael!”

“I’m sorry, I just can’t– I needed t’see her. I didn’t talk ta her, I just sat there t’see if she’s okay. I had ta–“ he breaks off. “I do it to convince myself she’s real and that‘m not dreamin’. I just want her back. Is that so wrong?”

“It’s not wrong, but you could risk everything just by watching her from a distance. If someone finds out–“

Your eyes soften amid the initial frustration when he moves his head to press his forehead against your knee. You can no longer see his eyes, but the tears pearling off of your skin tell you he’s crying.

You touch his head. “Michael, darling,” you say, “please, talk to me so I can understand.”

He sniffles. Slowly, he lifts his head and crawls over to you. He reminds you of a cat like this. His head finds support on your chest as he curls into a ball, and you wrap your arms around him.

“It’s okay…” You run your hand through his hair. “I’ve got you.”

It surprises him how comfortable he is in being vulnerable around you. You unveiled his guarded heart and started slowly breaking down his defenses. He let you in enough for you to see parts of him he had long kept hidden, and you are on your best way to pull it all out of him.

He shudders under your gentle touch. You are so soft. Not just your skin; your touch and your soul are soft. You cradle him like he is everything to you, but he can’t believe that he would be or should be everything to you. He’s not deserving. He tried today but failed again.

The foundation that kept his face stern before and added a supposed strength to his demeanor burns under your touch, and soon he is standing in the ashes of pretense and he feels it all.

He denied himself to feel the pain all day and now you’re here and you are so fucking soft– He starts sobbing into your chest, allowing him to fall further and further and further without a ground to land on. But there you are, catching him as often, and you don’t let go until you’re sure he’s safe.

Your arms have become his forever sanctuary. Feeling comfortable with you has been a hard task from the start and he still struggles, but he can’t help but let himself go in your embrace. You know exactly what he needs. You know who he is and you still stick around, and you know what he needs. It’s not just sex, it’s comfort, something he tried to hide by taking you against the wall, and it was good and he needed it, but he needs this so much more.

And he realizes that he needs to talk to you, too. He can’t just rely on you to touch and comfort him, something he has been lacking for eight years and perhaps even sometime before that while he was burning his life to the ground with a bad decision after bad decision and lost what was dear to him – he has to talk to you to earn that comfort because if he doesn’t, it feels like he’s using you and he once again starts hating all aspects of himself with a passion unmatched.

You’re doing this because you feel like you have to, he figures; because he’s broken and he looks like it most of the time, and you like to fix when something is broken to earn yourself a little love back, but you deserve more than you think you do and he doesn’t want you to please him just for the sake of pleasing him. He wants you to feel comfortable around him, too, and he wants to give back what you are giving him, and not just through countless orgasms. You’re worth more than that.

He contemplates, then makes a decision that is hard to swallow, but you deserve it. And so he tells you exactly what happened.

— Earlier that day —

Hearing the lack of trust in your voice when he admitted that he didn’t want to go home moved something in him. Of course, you’ve only just started to get to know each other, but there was something else in your voice that made his heart sink.

Darkness attracts light. The sun gives way to the moon at night, but the sun always finds a way to shine the brightest. Too much darkness can kill the light, and without light, darkness would take over and then there would be no happiness.

You’re kind, you put love into every little thing you do and you care about people. That’s the kind of person that people who are much darker than you feel like they can use, and knowing you, you probably let them. But even you reach your limits.

He could see in your eyes though that you meant it when you said you would help him get a proper job and fight for Anna, and considering you barely know him, that’s a big display of trust – you trust in his ability to be better, at least, and that is something he holds very dear to his damaged heart.

It’s been a while since someone was so endlessly willing to forgive him and to actually put in the effort to try and be with him; he knows how exhausting it can be, that sometimes being with him can become draining, and that it runs the people around him dry. At least it used to be this way. He hurt you, but you seem to have faith in him. You believe in him, you don’t think he will run you dry and you’re not exhausted. You may be a little weary, but he would never blame you for that. Even more now, Michael wants to stay true to his promise.

He feels alive with you. Safe. Loved. Cared for. And whenever he is close to you, he feels the desperate need to protect you, not just from him and this stupid life he has been born into but from any other possibility of harm that might come your way. He wants to make sure you’re okay, and that you have someone you can rely on, too. But there is something you’re hiding, he could tell. He’s not an idiot, he can tell when someone isn’t being entirely open with him, it comes with the Kinsella name; he has to know people, be able to read them, and judge quickly but with precision.

He tried not to let the nagging feeling of you hiding something more serious from him get to him because it is your life and he still feels like he needs to prove himself to you more than anything, though the inkling he has won’t leave him.

The way you froze when he finished the sentence for you, “We haven’t reached tha’ level of trust yet?” This small moment of hesitation told him that there must be more to it. But he can’t think about that, not now.

Anna is wearing her usual school uniform as she strolls past the restaurant with two of her friends. He suspects they are her friends because she’s laughing. A sad smile finds its way to his lips. She looks happy.

He remembers the day she was born. Every parent is somewhat afraid to screw up, especially with their first child. Some are more nervous, others less. Michael was the kind of first-time Dad that found himself thinking too much about what could happen. He was scared of not being enough, of subjecting his daughter to the dangers of his family, and he questioned if he even had what it takes to be a good father. He read books, asked Jimmy and Amanda, and he annoyed Birdy almost every day until the day Anna was born.

He remembers repeating one sentence in his head, “I can’t do this.”

But then he heard her first cry, and it took him only a second to realize that he was a Dad now. He remembers the moment he first saw her face, and he forgot everything around him.

The most pivotal moment was though when he got to hold her in his arms for the first time, so small and fragile, she fit snugly into the crook of his arm. Was he afraid of breaking her? Yes. More than anything. But all she had to do was open her eyes and look at him, and his previous fear of ‘I can’t do this’ evaporated. Left behind was only endless love and a sense of needing to protect the new life in his arms. He swore he would do anything to assure she would have a good life, no matter what.

And then, almost as if the first-time-parent jitters were an omen, he failed. He failed to be a husband and a father. Jimmy has always managed to coordinate his children, his wife, and the Kinsella life just perfectly, and Michael believed he could do it just like him, just like his brother – but he failed. He always wanted to be just like his brother.

At first, things went great and he gave everything he had to give, but then real life settled in, and he fucked up all the good things in his life. He fucked up his marriage and he fucked up as the Dad he promised his daughter he would be. In the end, he lost both of them. He lost Allison permanently because he was too caught up with himself and his family, and he lost his daughter, too, because he just wouldn’t listen to his gut, and his fuck-ups turned into a complex construction of dominos that were set out to tear his life and his soul lower than the ground.

If he could turn back time, he would. But he can’t. He can only try to turn what little of the steering wheel he has left around to get back what he has left of what he lost, and that is Anna. His love for her has not changed since the first day he held her in his arms, only his attitude toward himself and his life changed, and he feels even more miserable now than he ever did before.

Before he can register it, Anna has disappeared behind the trees. Once again, she didn’t see him. Part of him hopes that one day, if he keeps this going, she will catch sight of him and that maybe she will be happy to see him – does she even know what he looks like? Does she remember? Does she remember the times he told her he loved her?

He’s not sure how a child’s brain works, or what the trauma did to her, but he would like to know. He would love to understand what makes his little girl tick, even though she is less of a little girl now and starting to grow into a young woman. He missed so much, and that makes him so fucking angry.

He missed her, but he’s not sure if she missed him. Allison’s mother has never been a fan of him, but after she found out he was responsible for her daughter’s death, her dislike turned into pure hatred. She would have killed him if she had gotten the chance, he’s sure, and she would if she ever saw him again, he is even more sure of that. But he wouldn’t blame her; he deserves it.

All of this pain, he deserves it. He convinced himself a long time ago that he is suffering for a reason, and that led to a strict belief that every bad thing coming his way will be because pain is the only thing he deserves, and happiness was not made for a man like him.

Michael empties his double espresso that tastes cheaper than the brew you can get at a grocery store. You make much better coffee, even if it's just a boring double espresso.

But you are a good thing, and good things wither in his presence. He tries to shut the voices out, but after seeing Anna pass by happier than he has ever seen her before, they just grow louder.

He makes his way to Amanda and Jimmy’s house then. His hands are buried in the pockets of his jacket that still smells like you the day he lent it to you. His brown eyes are sunken as he crosses the corner to the street his family lives on – most of them, anyway.

He rings the doorbell and the gate opens to let him in. When he steps toward the front door, Jamie greets him.

“Hey,” Michael smiles softly.

“Hey,” Jamie acknowledges him. “Mam’s in the kitchen, Da’s downstairs with Eric, Uncle Frank an’ Birdy.”

The boy doesn’t even question his appearance, so he probably doesn’t know about the fight that drove Michael and Jimmy apart only a few days ago, and neither does he seem to know about the call he made to Amanda before deciding to drive his life against the wall – if it weren’t for your desperate need to fix people, he would still be stuck there.

He nods. “Thanks, Jamie.”

It is weird to see him so grown up after all these years. He’s almost his height now. The feeling of looking at Amanda or Jamie or the life his brother has built for himself is something he can’t describe, but it runs deep and it finds its way into his bloodstream to poison him. It makes his limbs heavy with the weight of lies and the unknown on his shoulders, and his heart turns into the cloudy Dublin sky.

Michael steps inside.

“Which one are ya here to see?” Jamie asks.

“Your Dad,” he says.

“Okay, cool.” He leaves just like that, with no questions, not even a glimpse of suspicion.

Ignoring Amanda in the kitchen, he makes his way through the house and into the basement. The stairs creak slightly under his weight. The closer he gets, the more can he make out Frank’s voice. The wood of a cue stick hitting the object balls on the pool table fills his ears. Some of them seem to fall into the pockets, and he hears Jimmy clap proudly to himself. Frank’s tone of voice is concerned though, and Michael stops to listen.

He’s come at just the right time because the next thing he hears is his name. “And what about Michael?” Frank asks.

The sound of one of the balls flying off the table echoes through the room. Jimmy sets his stick down and sighs. “What about him?” he retorts.

“I’m askin’ you.”

“I’m not the boss of him, he made tha’ very clear.”

Their argument wasn’t even about that. Whatever Jimmy had been on that day, he chose his words to hurt him. Talking about Allison and Anna the way he did, and then talking about you as if there would be no good in being together with you cut Michael deeper than he showed at that moment, and he almost lost you because of that. Maybe he didn’t mean it, but he deserved that broken nose nonetheless.

“Jimmy.”

“Wha’?”

“Whatever fight ya two had–” Frank begins.

“It doesn’t matter,” Jimmy cuts him off. “I haven’t heard from Mikey in days. I dunno where he is. He’s not answerin’ my calls either.”

It’s Birdy’s voice next that tries to diffuse the obvious tension. “Maybe he just needed t’get away,” she says. “Away from all this, I mean. He just got out of prison. Cut the poor boy some slack.”

From the start, Birdy has always been the woman with maternal instincts, and Michael often found comfort in her kindness. She took care of him with a love he lacked during his childhood, and when he got out, she made sure the house didn’t look like an empty, haunted space anymore but that he could actually live in it again. She cares, and it shows in the way she speaks about him. He’s grateful, but he knows it won’t warm Frank’s heart the same way. He doubts the man is possible of positive emotions; he’s always been a rock, and he doesn’t care. Even the topic of family is just a job for him.

As expected, Birdy gets ignored.

“Is he still workin’ fer Amanda,” Frank asks, “washin’ cars like I told her?”

“He was,” says Jimmy. “Until a few days ago, he took it very seriously. And then he left.”

“Good. Maybe he’s finally thinkin’ ‘bout what’s best for him, and that’s not washin’ cars. He belongs here, with us.”

Michael can only imagine Birdy’s disapproving glance. “He wants to get Anna back,” she argues.

“He can do tha’ while he’s workin’ with Jimmy.”

“No, he can’t.”

“Birdy’s right,” Jimmy says. “Amanda tried tellin’ him she’d put him on the books but he didn’t have ta work, but he wants to. He’s takin’ this very seriously and I can’t say I blame him.”

“This is bullshit!” Frank stops to take a sip from his beer. “Ya’ve grown soft. Let’s jus’ hope Michael will come to his senses. We have bigger fish ta fry.”

He hears Jimmy scoff. “Wha’, like Eamon?” he asks.

“No, Birdy’s new washing machine–”

By now, her eyes must be bulging out of her head with how hard she’s glaring.

“Of fuckin’ course, I mean Eamon!” The glass of Frank’s beer bottle hits the counter of the small bar before he says, “And fuckin’ Moor, that bastard.”

“We’ve had this conversation before, right after Michael got out, remember?”

“We all remember tha’,” Birdy cuts in. “And I was seemingly the only one who cared enough about his well-being to check on him.”

“Yeah, Birdy, we know yer a saint,” Jimmy sounds almost bitter.

“Don’t get smart on me now, Jimmy,” she says. “He’s your brother.”

“I know.”

“Eamon,” Frank says, acting as if the topics of conversation aren’t all over the place, “has us by the balls. We have ta do somethin’. Remember that dealer down on Parnell Street, hm?”

Silence follows.

“Yeah,” he says, “he’s dead. He got shot this mornin’ around eight. While he was buying a fuckin’ drink at the gas station.”

Parnell Street. Michael knows a lot of streets by heart, that comes with the territory, but that name strikes a chord. The gas station on Parnell Street is about a fifteen-minute walk from Merrion. He knew before that Frank has people there, but Merrion isn’t just a street anymore.

House number 13, that’s where you live. You drove past it before you parked a good length away from the café and he walked you there. That was at seven-thirty.

He connects the dots and the second he does, his heart stops.

Are you in danger?

Michael is convinced now more than ever that he needs to get out. He can’t protect you if he does the very same thing that he is trying to protect you from. He needs that job and he needs to try to distance himself. What if you get caught in the crossfire? Or Anna? He can’t relive the same hell again. It’s bad enough he dreams of that cruel night eight years ago every time he closes his eyes; he doesn’t need to add you to that list, too. He can’t bear to lose one more person he loves.

“What do ya want me to do?” Jimmy asks, exasperated. “Want me t’start a seance and bring him back?”

“I need Michael,” Frank states. “We need manpower. He’s good at what he does. Not only does he throw a mean punch but he actually takes this shit serious when he needs ta. And he’s a damn good shot. He needs t’come back, otherwise–”

“Dead meat?” Birdy finishes.

“Yeah, dead fuckin’ meat.”

He steps out behind the shelf that has kept him hidden from their prying eyes. He doesn’t let him finish his sentence.

Birdy is the first to catch a glimpse of him, her grim expression lighting up almost instantly. “Michael,” she says softly.

He nods curtly, trying to smile, but he fails miserably.

All eyes are on him now. He feels like an animal in the zoo, judged for existing, judged for being himself, and the only person excited by his sight is Birdy. She’s the one visitor at the zoo that seemingly enjoys every caged animal she sees. The sight of Michael’s dark features is not pretty, he knows that, but the looks he receives leave a bitter taste in his mouth. They pity him. He hates that just as much as silent judgment.

“Hey,” he says.

“How have ya been, pet?” Birdy asks. “Or more like where? We were worried ‘bout ya.”

She steps up to him and cradles his face. She traces the butterfly bandage on his forehead, chuckling a little, then moving on to the cut on his nose. She clicks her tongue. “How’s the other guy?”

It’s meant as a joke, but Michael takes it seriously. He looks at Jimmy, then back at her. “I’m grand,” he says. “And the other one’s good, too. ‘t was just a brawl.”

“Hm,” she disagrees, but she leaves it at a gentle hum.

Frank’s smile is fake when he looks at him. “We were just talkin’ about you,” he says.

He wants to tell him he heard, but he keeps his mouth shut. If he pretends he isn’t angry, maybe he can get out of this without any trouble.

“Oh, yeah?” Michael asks.

“Yeah. How’s the job?”

“Grand.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” You asshole, he thinks.

“You enjoy washin’ cars?” Frank is really pushing it this time.

He feels so small under everyone’s eyes. Jimmy looks almost regretful and Eric is someplace else, his eyes focused on the snakes in the terrarium, but everyone else makes him feel so damn small. He feels his shoulder slouch, but then he thinks about Merrion Street, Parnell, the gas station, and then you.

You.

Anna.

Himself.

“It’s not bad,” Michael lies, “but I’ve decided t’work someplace else.”

Everyone looks shocked now, even though Birdy’s eyes scream more surprise than the sense of betrayal he sees in Frank’s eyes, and even Jimmy looks like he didn’t see this coming. Considering Michael was once willing to do everything they told him to, he doesn’t blame them. It’s a big chance for all of them, but especially for him.

Change is good, change is what he needs. He turns it into a mantra or else he won’t believe it, cave, and then return to the same man he was before. The thoughts of, “They’re your family. Would it really be that bad?”

But you would never approve. Or would you?

No, he can’t think like that. He wants to be just Michael for a while if not forever.

“I came to tell ya that. I quit,” he repeats. “The job with Amanda, I mean. I quit that.”

“Come again?” Frank asks.

“Yeah.”

Jimmy curses under his breath, “The hell, Michael?!”

Michael caught them off guard. Good. The almost defeated expression Frank carries along with his anger and exasperation almost makes him gloat. Maybe he is already gloating a little inside because he found something more important than blood, in more ways than one, and he is fighting for it now.

He hasn’t fought for something in so long.

“Where?” Jimmy collects himself first. “Where are ya gonna work?” he asks.

“I’ve got somethin’,” says Michael, “that’s all ya need to know. That’s why I came here. I didn’t want t’ leave ya in the dark.”

“You came here to tell us ya quit the job with Amanda?”

“Yeah.”

“Pet,” Birdy prompts.

Michael shakes his head. “I need to get Anna back. For tha’, I need a more stable job. Appease the courts an’ all that. I can’t let anything, not even the smallest mishap get in the way of that. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

Would you be proud of him if you heard him stand his ground? He likes to think you would be. It makes the heavy heart he gets from the look on his brother’s face a little easier to just accept. He needs to burn bridges, not appease others. And this is one of the bridges that need to be incinerated.

“Are you sure about this?” Birdy asks.

“Yeah, I am,” he says.

“Fuck,” Frank curses to himself. “Can we talk about this, Michael? Just for a minute?” It sounds like a question but it’s actually a perfectly concealed demand.

Michael sees through his charade. He shakes his head again. “I made my decision, Frank.”

“When we put ya to washin’ cars, this is not what we meant to happen–”

“Oh, I am well aware of tha’,” he sounds bitter now, and he can taste the copper of blood from where he bit his cheek in an attempt not to yell or throw another punch. “Things change,” he says. “People change.”

Birdy tries to pour some water on the fire that is starting to consume everyone in the room, but it has been fueled by oil and gasoline and water only makes it worse.

“Anna belongs with Michael,” she says. “I’ve said it before, but she’s a Kinsella. Mikey deserves a chance to prove himself to get her back, don’t ya think?”

Jimmy nods at the same time that Frank starts to shake his head. “Eric!” he calls out and his son flinches. He’s still standing close to the snakes. “Don’t ya have anythin’ constructive to say?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Michael says.

Eric closes his mouth again. He doesn’t look like he wants to be there, anyway. His skin is sickly pale and he appears almost… guilty.

“That’s all I came here for. I quit. I’m sorry.”

He’s not sorry. He feels sorry, but not for this.

“Maybe if we take a calm minute to think about this–” Birdy tries again.

He shakes his head. “No.”

“Pet…”

“I’m sorry, Birdy,” and with her, he means what he says. “I can’t,” he says.

On his way out, the weight that is lifted from his shoulders only lasts a few seconds before his brother’s voice puts twice as many bricks back onto his shoulders, dragging him further down.

“Michael, wait!” Jimmy calls out.

Michael clenches his jaw and halts. “What?” He turns around.

“I’m sorry for wha’ I said the other day, about Allison and Anna and that girl Amanda saw you kissin’,” he says. “I was on edge and it wasn’t fair, especially not blamin’ ya fer Allison’s death. I know yer strugglin’ and I’m sorry, but ya can’t just leave because of tha’. It was just a fight.”

“I’m not leavin’,” he clarifies, “I just quit my job with Amanda. There’s a difference. I’m still here. Fer family.”

“Is there a difference? Ya’ve been gone for days. I was worried. We all were.”

“Were ya, really?”

They stare each other down. The rope of tension is so visible, it could be cut with a knife.

Jimmy takes a step closer, his voice softer now. "Look, I didn't mean half of the things I said. I was angry, and I lashed out. I want you back in our lives. I want ya back where you belong, workin' with me. We're family, Michael."

“This isn’t about you, it never was,” Michael snaps. “This is about me and Anna and… and–” He knows he shouldn’t have said your name, but it slips before he can think, and his voice echoes through the house.

“So yer still on about her?” his brother asks.

He screwed up. You were just a stranger seconds before, and as a stranger, you were safe. Now Jimmy knows your name and probably everyone else, too, and being a Kinsella is already dangerous enough, he doesn’t need you involved with every single member of his family, but now that Jimmy knows you are one of the reasons he wants out… his brother might not become the problem, but Frank might, and Michael could shoot himself for being such a fool.

He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter,” he says. “Point is, I’m gettin’ another job and ya can’t stop me. I want t’be better.”

“We’re family,” Jimmy repeats.

Michael scoffs. "Family, huh? Is that what ya call it when you drag my personal life into our fights? When you use my dead wife, daughter, and her against me?"

“Ya heard what Frank said about Eamon–”

“I’ll cross that bridge if it ever comes to it, but I’m not playin’ that game. I can’t get involved, and I won’t. Why can’t you just accept tha’?”

“Because Anna, I get, but this woman, Michael,” Jimmy says.

His eyes darken. “Careful,” he growls.

“I stand by wha’ I said. This relationship is doomed. People have died already. What if someone starts a war? They’re not gonna give a fuck about whether or not yer goin’ straight now. You know how it is; they always find a way t’ destroy us and what we love. You’ve experienced it yerself.”

His words cut deeper than a knife. Michael's heart aches as he realizes the truth in his words — love and happiness within the Kinsella family come at a devastating cost. He stabbed a dagger straight through his heart and pulled it back out. As if the demons in his head weren’t saying the same thing, Jimmy had to go ahead and drill the hurt even deeper, the fear and the uncertainty.

He thinks about Allison, her blood heavy on his hands. He went down too many wrong roads and ended at a point of no return. Now that he has found a way out, that way seems to be the same one-way street heading in another direction, but the end is still a huge wall he will run into, and then he will lose everything dear to him.

But these thoughts are poison. They’re toxic. He can’t let them get to him, even though he has never taken his brother’s words more seriously. He’s always valued Jimmy, even when he’s angry. What he loathes is the truth of his words. It would be kinder if he was lying; it would make the decision so much easier. It wouldn’t make him rethink what he said, what he chose and is going to choose – he wouldn’t question what he feels for you, which is the part that tears ripples through his soul and the home you’ve made there, shaking his world and inevitably, yours.

He understands the risks. But he yearns; he yearns so desperately for a chance at redemption. The threat of violence used to be his life, but now it hurts even him to think about the chance of the monsters jumping out of the shadows and cutting him and his loved ones apart piece by piece. He saw the worst of humanity and he knows it can get worse.

The pits are sheer endless. There is no going back no matter where you are, no matter how hard you try to pull out - It's a door that reads "pull" but you push, and even when you pull, the door won't open. It isn't locked, you're simply trapped, and it's the same with his emotions.

Michael knows he has a hell lot to lose, and he needs to acknowledge that instead of listening to the voice in his head that continues screaming, “Run!”

But it isn’t him who should run.

“I deserve a second chance,” he says.

“Of course, ya do,” Jimmy says, “but–”

“No, that’s all. I deserve a second chance. Period. So does Anna, and so does she.”

“Michael–”

The sound of heels clicking against the floor follows the sound of a closing door. Amand rounds the corner, her brown curls swaying with each of her movements, and she stares at the men before her in bewilderment.

Michael feels his throat tighten when he sees her.

“What is goin’ on here?” she asks. “I can hear ya shoutin’ through the whole house.”

“Michael quits,” Jimmy tells her.

It’s as if he had been waiting for a moment to snitch. Two against one, and if he adds everyone in the basement, he’s standing alone against five Kinsellas. Just because he made a decision. He chose something for himself. It’s almost as if they can’t live with that.

“Quit wha’?” Amanda asks.

“His job.”

“What?” She crosses her arms and looks at him. “Michael–”

“Don’t,” he cuts her off. His expression hardens. "Don't act like you care, both of ya. Don't. You may mean it, but no matter what I do, yer just gonna continue sabotagin' every attempt I make at bein’ happy. I can't keep lettin' ya dictate my relationships. I won't let you ruin what I have right now. Don’t tear her away from me.”

Why he sounds like he’s begging, he’s not sure. But standing alone against the force of his family feels humiliating enough to shatter his confidence.

“Is it about the girl?” Amanda asks. Her body is turned to Jimmy, asking for his approval, and he nods.

Michael rolls his shoulders. He doesn’t want to get angry, he doesn’t want to hit him again, he just wants to go home – he wants to go to a home that isn’t a place but a person, and he needs it now. He’s not sure how he survived up until this point, but it’s getting harder to breathe as the current drags him down.

“It’s about more than tha’,” Jimmy adds to his initial agreement.

At least he got that right.

“It’s about family and the choices you’re makin’, Michael.”

Michael's voice rises, finally, his pent-up frustration spilling over. "No, Jimmy!” his voice bounces off the high walls that turn into a microphone with the force with which he delivers his words. “I'm choosing myself, fer once,” he says. “I've spent my whole life doin’ everythin’ fer this family, but I failed the people I care about, I lost everythin’ and now I just want to fuckin’ fix things! I won't let ya tear me down just ‘cause you can't handle the choices I make."

"Michael, we all care about you," Amanda says. Her voice is gentle, but he often likes to compare her to a venomous snake. Her words can sound nice, but the meaning behind them can be deadly as soon as it reaches your bloodstream. "We want what's best for ya."

"What's best for me is to be with her, with Anna- I want to be just Michael. I wanna be free from this toxic cycle. I won't let you or- or anyone else dictate what makes me happy. I've had enough. This is my life, for fuck's sake, let me just have tha'!"

"But yer a Kinsella," says Jimmy, "You can't change that." His anger transitions to silent anger. "No matter how badly you wanna escape, you can't."

Michael turns on his heels. "Maybe not, but I can sure as hell try," he says, ready to leave the house behind.

He feels trapped, not just in there but on this street. He feels trapped everywhere, the walls caving in around him. He's breaking, as is the world, the universe, and reality; everything seems to be falling apart, and he is reaching for the only lifeline he has. As he walks away, he can feel their stares burning into his back, but he no longer cares.

He thought he could at least breathe once he was away from the house, but then his walls are caving in, too. He’s started tearing what little clothes he has into a bad – just enough for a few days – when he feels the room… shift.

The air grows thick with his mounting anxiety, his heart pounding in his chest like a trapped bird desperately flapping its wings against a cage. His vision blurs. A sharp pain shoots through his skull, but it’s only momentary.

Somehow, he manages to make his way into the bathroom. Maybe cold water will help, he thinks, but then the room shifts again and again and again, and his now wet fingers slip from the tap. The water is still running into the sink, but he can’t move. As the room shifts, so does his brain. He can’t think, his eyes only able to scan silhouettes, and his knees give out. His body betrays him.

The world around him warps and distorts. The sound of running water turns into a shrill melody as if someone is blowing a flute directly into his ear. The tiles beneath his feet become unsteady, their patterns dancing and morphing before his eyes. His fingers twitch as he tries to somehow lean against the toilet, but he has no power over what he’s doing. The spiral keeps going further down, dragging him with it.

Time seems to both stretch and contract, the seconds drawn out agonizingly, yet passing in the blink of an eye as his body convulses. He doesn't exactly register what's happening. Sometimes, it feels like he's watching himself seize uncontrollably from the outside, other times it feels like a very vivid dream and then there are times, like now, when he's conscious but also feels detached and not conscious at all.

Fragments of pictures flash before his eyes like a movie. He feels the fear deep in his bones, and it turns into personified matter dancing through his daydream - but it feels more like a nightmare that doesn't belong to him like Freddy Kruger messing with his head and threatening to cut him up. The body he's in can't possibly be his own. He fears losing control; he fears being consumed by the darkness that lurks within his bloodline, and it grips him tightly. He fights against it, struggling to retain a sense of self amidst the overwhelming chaos, but he's tired.

He's not sure how long he's lying on the floor, but eventually, his muscles ease up and he slumps. The world returns to his senses, but he still feels disoriented and takes a moment to realize where he is. As he lies there on the cold bathroom floor, the tears mingle with the sweat on his face. He wipes it off his brow, but he is still sweating.

It isn’t the first time this has happened, but he hates it more and more every time. If only he could understand what’s happening, but asking for help isn’t his strong suit and he has other things to worry about. His ‘episodes’, as he dubbed them, are the last points on the list.

He’s not at home here anymore, Michael reminds himself because he doesn’t feel like it. He feels trapped in his own house. The bullet holes are so close, he feels he can touch him through the walls.

And then he decides, he really can’t stay here anymore. Not tonight, at least, and not tomorrow either. His head is all over the place. In every corner, there is an invisible trigger and he is haunted by the ghosts of his past. They follow him everywhere.

The past follows him everywhere but into your arms, and so he fights against the ache in his muscles to rise back to his feet and packs his bag.

By the time Birdy comes around to check on him, the light in the kitchen is dark, the blinds are drawn close and when she knocks, no one answers. Michael is gone again, and she wearily leaves it be just like that – who is she to keep the poor boy from happiness? If he doesn’t want to stay, he shouldn’t have to stay.

But that’s just what she thinks. She knows as soon as Frank or Jimmy finds out he has disappeared again, kindness is the last thing that will follow Michael wherever he goes now.

When he tells you about it that night, he leaves out the part about Eamon and whatever else is threatening the existence of the family business right now because you don’t need to know that. He tells you about the fight and Jimmy and his decision to quit his job with Amanda and move on to be with Anna, and you listen without a word.

You listen and when he reaches the point of talking about packing his bag, he stops. You think that’s it, that’s what you believe, and he wants to keep it that way. He doesn’t tell you about the seizure or the taunting memories.

Michael ends the story at a point he knows will suffice but still keep you safe, and you don’t seem to notice that he’s holding back because damn it, he’s crying, sobbing even, and all you want to do is comfort him.

He feels guilty for lying again, but it is for your own good. If you knew what was going on right under your nose, close to your own home and close to your heart with him here, you wouldn’t be able to deal.

But there are things Michael doesn’t know about you, and he can’t even begin to fathom how wrong he is about you not being able to deal with the violent lifestyle of his family. No matter how scared you might appear, it is not always because of the reasons he thinks it is.

You’re a good liar, excellent even, but there is a gut feeling inside of him that won’t go away, and he holds onto the hope that one day, he will learn who you truly are, as much as you wish to know who he truly is.

Only then can you both be unconditionally happy with each other – honesty is key, and it is still lacking in every one of your conversations.

Michael just hopes you will be able to survive whatever rocks life might throw your way because losing you is not an option he wants to concern himself with – in more than one sense.

Tagging: @bellaxgiornata @shouldbestudying41 @your-not-invisible-to-me @glowstick-lesbian @ms-murdockswift @acharliecoxedfan @loveroftoomanyfandoms @mattmurdocksscars @roseallisonparker @1988-fiend @norestfortheshelbywicked

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bedroomking086 · 9 months ago

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sonukumar44 · 1 year ago

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springbedsuk · 2 years ago

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Best Quality Bed Headboard in UK | Spring Beds UK

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bedsdivans1 · 2 years ago

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The best places to buy furniture on a budget and affordable furniture online

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lisahian4 · 4 years ago

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mrslumber1 · 27 days ago

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For more compact spaces, our single bed headboards UK provide a perfect solution. These headboards are designed to add a touch of elegance to smaller rooms without compromising on style or comfort. Whether you’re furnishing a guest room or a child’s bedroom, these headboards offer a charming addition that enhances the overall look and feel of the space.

The Allure of Luxury Headboards

Luxury headboards are an essential component for those who wish to add a touch of opulence to their bedroom. Our luxury headboards UK collection is curated with the finest materials and most exquisite designs. From tufted velvet to sleek leather finishes, these headboards are designed to provide both visual appeal and unparalleled comfort.

Choosing a luxury headboard from Mr Slumber means investing in a piece that not only enhances your sleep experience but also adds significant aesthetic value to your bedroom. These headboards are available in various styles and colors, allowing you to customize your bedroom to reflect your personal taste.

Complementing Your Headboard with the Perfect Bed

At Mr Slumber, we believe that the right headboard deserves an equally impressive bed frame. Our Austin bed is a perfect match for those looking to combine style with functionality. This upholstered bed frame offers a contemporary design that pairs beautifully with any headboard from our collection. Its sturdy construction and elegant finish make it a standout piece in any bedroom setting.

For those in need of additional storage, our Divan and Ottoman Beds offer a practical solution without sacrificing style. These beds provide ample storage space, perfect for keeping your bedroom clutter-free while maintaining a sleek and sophisticated look.

Enhancing Comfort with Quality Mattresses

No bed is complete without the perfect mattress. At Mr Slumber, we offer a range of high-quality mattresses designed to complement our headboards and bed frames. Our pocket sprung mattress collection, including the 1000 pocket sprung mattress and king size pocket sprung mattress, is designed to provide optimal support and comfort. These mattresses are engineered with individual springs that adapt to your body’s contours, ensuring a restful night’s sleep.

Choosing the right mattress is crucial for achieving the ultimate sleep experience. Our pocket sprung mattresses are designed to alleviate pressure points, reduce motion transfer, and provide a comfortable sleeping surface, making them an ideal choice for those seeking both comfort and support.

Styling Tips for Your Bedroom

When styling your bedroom, it’s important to consider the overall theme and color scheme. A well-chosen headboard can serve as a focal point, anchoring the room’s design. Pair your headboard with complementary bedding and accessories to create a cohesive and inviting space.

For a luxurious look, consider using rich fabrics and textures. Velvet and silk add a touch of opulence, while neutral tones create a calming and serene atmosphere. Accent pillows, throws, and curtains can also enhance the room’s aesthetic, tying together various elements for a harmonious look.

Conclusion

Discovering the perfect double bed headboards at Mr Slumber is about more than just enhancing your bedroom’s aesthetic; it’s about creating a space that promotes comfort, relaxation, and a good night’s sleep. With a wide range of styles, materials, and designs, our headboards cater to every taste and preference. Whether you’re looking for something simple and elegant or bold and luxurious, Mr Slumber has the perfect headboard to complete your bedroom.

Explore our collection today and transform your bedroom into a sanctuary of style and comfort. With Mr Slumber, you’re not just investing in a headboard; you’re investing in a better night’s sleep and a more beautiful home.

#double bed headboards uk #mr slumber #king size headboards uk #single bed headboards uk

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dbzbeds · 2 years ago

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Sleigh Beds: The Perfect Blend of Elegance and Comfort for Your UK Home

Are you in search of the perfect furniture piece that effortlessly combines elegance and comfort for your UK home? Look no further than sleigh beds! These magnificent beds have long been cherished for their timeless appeal and luxurious aesthetics. With their distinctive curved headboard and footboard, sleigh beds add a touch of sophistication to any bedroom. In this article, we will explore the captivating world of sleigh beds and why they are the ideal choice for elevating the style and comfort of your living space.

Unveiling the Charm of Sleigh Beds

Sleigh beds, as the name suggests, take inspiration from the elegant silhouette of a sleigh, evoking a sense of romance and grandeur. The hallmark of these beds is their curved headboard and footboard, resembling the shape of a sleigh. This design element lends a unique visual appeal, making sleigh beds stand out from other bed styles. Crafted with meticulous attention to detail, sleigh beds showcase exquisite craftsmanship and attention to detail, adding an air of opulence to your bedroom.

Timeless Elegance for Any Interior

Whether your home boasts a contemporary or traditional interior, sleigh beds effortlessly complement various design styles. These beds come in a range of materials, including wood, metal, and upholstered options, allowing you to choose the perfect match for your existing décor. For a classic look, opt for a wooden sleigh bed with rich, warm tones that exude warmth and sophistication. Alternatively, a metal or upholstered sleigh bed can introduce a modern twist, creating a striking focal point in your bedroom.

Luxurious Comfort for Restful Nights

In addition to their captivating aesthetics, sleigh beds are designed to provide exceptional comfort and support. The gently curved headboard offers a cozy and secure feeling, allowing you to lean back comfortably while reading a book or watching TV before bed. The solid construction of sleigh beds ensures stability and durability, guaranteeing years of restful nights. Moreover, with their spacious dimensions, sleigh beds offer ample space for stretching out and enjoying a rejuvenating sleep experience.

Versatile Options to Suit Your Preferences

Sleigh beds come in a variety of sizes, ranging from single and double to king and super king, catering to different preferences and room sizes. Additionally, you can choose between different finishes and materials to create a personalized look that aligns with your taste and style. From rich mahogany to sleek metal frames and sumptuous upholstered designs, there is a sleigh bed to suit every aesthetic inclination. Consider the overall ambiance you want to achieve in your bedroom and select the perfect sleigh bed accordingly.

Tips for Maintaining Sleigh Beds' Splendor

To ensure your sleigh bed retains its beauty and allure for years to come, proper maintenance is key. Here are a few tips to help you maintain the splendor of your sleigh bed:

Regularly dust and clean the bed frame to prevent the accumulation of dirt and dust particles.

Use appropriate cleaning products recommended for the specific material of your sleigh bed.

Avoid placing heavy objects on the bed, as it may lead to structural damage over time.

Follow the manufacturer's instructions for assembly and disassembly, if required.

Consider using a mattress protector to safeguard your sleigh bed from spills and stains.

Elevate Your Bedroom with a Sleigh Bed

In conclusion, if you desire a furniture piece that seamlessly combines elegance and comfort, a sleigh bed is the perfect choice for your UK home. With their timeless appeal, luxurious aesthetics, and exceptional comfort, sleigh beds offer an unparalleled sleeping experience. Whether you prefer a classic wooden design or a contemporary metal or upholstered variation, there is a sleigh bed that will transform your bedroom into a sanctuary of style and relaxation.

Embrace the allure of sleigh beds and indulge in the epitome of elegance and comfort. Upgrade your sleeping quarters with a magnificent sleigh bed and let it become the centerpiece that sets the tone for your entire bedroom decor.

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bedsdivans64 · 2 years ago

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#divan beds uk #single bed divan #divan bed uk #divan bed with headboard and storage #divan beds and mattresses #divan beds single #divan beds with headboard #divan beds with storage #divan storage beds #queen divan bed #single devan #single divans #buy divan bed uk #divan bed mattress and headboard #divan storage bed uk #single divan beds uk

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wizkiddx · 4 years ago

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Hiii I really love your work! Could you write about Tom secretly or not secretly watching yoi have a Zoom Uni class? And maybe he teases you in a way, trying to make you laugh or he sends you text messages or something? And later when you're done and he has a meeting,you tease him right back?

Hope you're having a lovely day 💞

a/n hey anon!! this was a really cute idea but I have another req for the vice versa bit, so only did the first half in this- I hope u don't mind :)

warnings: implied smut at the end but rlly just a fluffy cringe fest

////////////////////////////////////////

Early mornings where never you’re favourite and this one wasn’t an exception to the rule. The LA sun was flooding through the curtains that had been hurriedly thrown almost-closed last night as you huffed into the duvet. You needed to get up - but you definitely didn’t want to. To be fair, you’d only arrived the day before and were still acclimatising to the jet lag - though Tom’s presence certainly made everything alot easier.

Especially as you’d been without him for so long, the pandemic meaning you hadn’t been able to make the long-weekend trips you usually would’ve. So when at the beginning of may, Tom had offered for you to come out and stay with him for half the summer (while he was busy working). There was only really one answer…. free holiday with the absolute specimen of a human who you call your boyfriend? Yes please.

It did mean though, that you had flown out before the end of the semester. Only by a week and it didn’t make much difference because you only had a few zoom lectures - but they were compulsory. So even if you were living in the US, you had to follow your UK school timetable. Hence why you had to get up at 6:30, to make your UK time 14:30 lecture.

The arms around you seemed to have other ideas, huffing and only pulling you tighter when you tried to wriggle out of his embrace. You groaned in annoyance, mainly because he was making it more and more tempting to stay huddled up against him.

“Toooooommm I gotta get up” Clearly not agreeing, he just squeezed you to his chest tighter, whilst emphatically shaking his head - all with his eyes still firmly pressed shut.

“Let go! I have a lecture!” Still not letting up , he just shook his head once again - making his bed hair especially wild as it dragged against the linen pillows.

With a sigh you turned in his death grip, now being able to see his puffy morning eyes pressed firmly shut. First you arched up and pressed a soft kiss to his chin, then jaw and then nose.

“Seriously T, I need to show up to this one.” Because yes, you might’ve already had an absence from yesterday, where you had both slept through the alarm.

“-o it-’” Croaking so much so you couldn’t even puzzle out what he said, the man cleared his throat before trying again, the sound reverberating in his chest. “ uhmm do it from bed, don’t go.”

That had you pouting at his cuteness. Ever since you’d arrived he’d been unbelievable clingy to you, barely letting you out of his sight. You showered together; he sat and stared whilst you did your skin care routine; even at restaurants he insisted on sitting next to you with his hand on your knee. When you had asked him, the only reasoning you got was a shrug and a muttered ‘I missed you’. Never, ever would you complain about Tom’s attention. But…. you really needed to get to your laptop.

“I can’t babe thats not very profess-“

“-wont even be able to tell.”

As much as you tried, you couldn’t ever really deny Tom anything. Not when he cracked his eyelids open, revealing the softest warm brown eyes, coupled with a lazy smile. So yes, you ended up quickly getting changed into one of Toms old burgundy tops, running a brush through your frizzy hair and then clambering back into bed. You balanced your laptop on a tray on top of a box, so the angle was less obvious that your backdrop was a headboard. Instantly Tom had half-asleep turned over to lay his messy head on your lap. And with a half sigh half laugh, you logged on- once in the waiting room bringing a hand down to trail your nails through Tom’s hair which made him groan with delight.

It was all going so well too, up the point where breakout rooms were announced and you had to talk - your chipper voice and laughs with your course mates rousing Tom from his sleep. Every time he almost lifted his head into the view of the webcam, you were very quick to slam it back down, forcing him back onto your lap.

Eventually he got bored of the restrictions, as well as not being very into the history module you were all puzzling over- so slid out of bed into the shower. Once he was gone you did almost sigh in relief, you had thought that Tom in his friendly-idiot manner would end up getting you caught at some point. Especially as our relationship was so secretive, none of your course mates knew you weren’t single - imagine their shock if an a lister popped up in the zoom class.

But oh, the relief did not last long at all.

The issue was Harry had gone out for the day. It was just you and Tom in his fancy rented LA house. And, as mentioned, Tom was being clingy as hell. It couldn’t of been more than 20 minutes before the fluffy haired brunette was back in the room - pouting when he saw you still on the computer.

Even though you shooed him away, Tom just cocked his head to one side, a small smirk on his face. And you knew. You knew he was going to be a little shit. He slinked over the bed, perching at the foot next to where your feet lay.The warning look you shot him, metaphorical daggers coming out your eye did absolutely nothing - you watched his hand pin your right ankle down before stroking the sole of your foot. Familiar shivers shot up your leg and it took everything in you to not kick out, launching the laptop across the room as tickled you.

Soon though he stopped, you pulled yourself into a cross legged position, readjusting the laptop and trying to concentrate back on the lecturer. Seeing your disinterest, Tom hopped up off the bed and you thought he was leaving. But no. No you were wrong. He just stood at the foot of the bed, hands on hips as he appeared to listen intently to the lecturer too.

Clearly Tom was an actor, he was pretty good at accents. You should’ve known he wouldn’t be able to resist the impersonating your academic staff - who happened to have a strong Somerset accent.

Pretending to ignore Tom as he hunched up and widened his stance - to imagine the physicality of your lecturer- you narrowed your eyes at the computer screen. Then though, a deep booming farmer-like voice came out your well spoken south london boy - god you were glad you’d stuck the mute button on as soon as he had entered.

“And then as your reading in chapter twel-“

“And then as yowr readinf in chapter twelve….” Tom echoed the lecturer loud and proud, making it completely impossible for you to attempt to concentrate. As much as you wanted to be furious at him- well, all it took was one look.

He was holding his face in some sort of duck pout and all the movements were extra pronounced and exaggerated. You couldn’t help it- instantly you burst out laughing, having to turn off the video for fear of anyone noticing.

Seeing he’d got a rise out of you, Tom was only spurred on, continuing the dramatic acting with a new found confidence. That was until you got yourself under control, face turning like a switch from joy to fury.

“Shut the hell up!”

And he did, for a few minutes, whilst pouting like a told-off toddler. In a strop, he sat down, shoulders slumped at the edge of the bed. Oh how wrong your were, when you thought you’d won - with a satisfied smile concentrating back on the laptop screen. Just in time to hear the lecturer FINALLY starting to rounding up the lecture.

“Alright so next session we’re-“ Before he’d even stammered his way to the end of the sentence, Tom’s face had switched up once again - into one of mischief as he started crawling up the bed either-side of your legs. One strong arm reached out to touch the back of your laptop lid and before you could protest he was pushing it down, till it landed with a small ‘clunk’.

“You did not just do that!” Yelling at him, you sat up so now he was kneeling across your lap.

“But I just did.” He mimed a mic drop which had you cringing hard, staring at him in disbelief. Okay the lecturer was beginning to round off, but that conclusion could’ve gone on for 5 minutes at least!

“Oh you are so in for it Holland.”

You’d meant it as a threat, as a sort of ‘I’m-going-to-make-your-life-a-living-hell” but the bright eyed boy before you had other plans. Wordlessly he nodded, then placed your laptop on the bedside ; then pushed you down on the bed. His legs either side of you, his arms like rockets to pin yours either side your head.

“Ah but you see my love…” he tutted, with a wide smile, hhis breath fanning down onto you as he took your breath away. “That is exactly what I want.” Immediately his lips were on yours, the both of you fighting for dominance as you arched your head up to get extra purchase on him.

“I hate… I hate you… so bloody much” It was hard to talk when his intoxicating lips were moving against yours, melting away all your resistance.

“Hmmm… well its… its a good thing… that I love you.”

He was impossible and no doubt you’d missed the prep work for tomorrows lecture. But having him there, body pressed against yours, after months apart.

Well, you wouldn’t mind failing the module for him.

~~~~ let me know what you think <333~~~~

tag list : @thefernandasantana @lovehollandy12 @hallecarey1 @crossyourpeter @hollandfanficlove @msmimimerton @thegirlwiththeimpala

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