Roses for Roselyn (Niall and Harry Fanfictions)

She was just an ordinary, grounded girl with a young, obsessive sister... little did she know that her sister's biggest idol was obsessing over her. Join Rosie and Rachel on their journey in love, friendship, obsession, fame and passion. What will happen? Who will happen? And most importantly, how will they cope with the disadvantages of 'the good life'?


151. Movie Day


I wake up in one of Niall's baggy T-shirts and a pair of his old jogging pants. I find the sentiment really thoughtful and sweet, especially for my lack of preparation before leaving the house last evening. I unhook myself from under his arm to go and take a shower before changing back into the clothes he gave me, using a towel to hand dry my spicy cinnamon smelling hair. When it's as dry as I can get it, the ringlets starting to set, I crawl back into bed, admiring the way that Niall sleeps; one foot hanging off the bed with an arm guarding his face as he sleeps on his front. 

I lounge on the duvet, feeling quite mischievous and refreshed, no longer tired enough to fall back asleep. I lie on my front, supporting my chin with my elbows, a cheeky grin taking place on my lips. The duvet is pulled down slightly, leaving his back bare and vulnerable as it rises with each small breath.

I take one hand, dancing my finger tips all along the ridge of his spine, making him shiver and move just a tiny bit as my movements annoy him. I continue doing it, tickling his back and tracing patterns with each finger over the curves and lines of his spine and ribs. I notice a tiny little birthmark that is small and invisible to anybody but myself, and I circle it with my pinky a couple of times before "Mmf."

"What was that?" I smile, finally retrieving a reaction. I think he's fallen back asleep again, so I continue, until he turns back, lifting his head up to see me. His big blue eyes are swollen from sleep as he grunts "Stop that."

"Why?" I smile, causing him to fall back into his pillow with resign.

"It tickles." Is my only reply before he pulls the duvet back up to his neck and tries to go back to sleep.

I lie down next to him, kissing his cheek in apology. "Sorry." He smiles faintly at the gesture. "Don't you want to get up with me?"

"No, I want to stay in bed all day."

"Okay." I say, pushing myself off of the mattress.

He pulls me back down, hooking his elbow around my neck and keeping me there whilst he gradually opens his eyes. "I didn't mean it like that. I meant only if you want to."

I shrug, smoothing the lines that the pillow case has made on his cheek with my thumb. "I guess so, but I'm not really in the mood for sleeping or watching movies right now."

I duck out from under his arm, teasing another kiss on his forehead whilst I run a hand through the dark roots in the back of his hair.

He pushes himself up slightly, curiosity taking over as I skip out of the room, skidding as I reach the door. "Where are you going now then?"

"Where do you think? To make you some breakfast."

His frown dissolves into a smile as he flops back down onto his bed, muttering a quick "You're the best."

Last time I came around Niall had a whole jar of Nutella in the back of his cupboards. I hope it's still there, because our banana pancakes won't be the same without it.


When the I finally wake up, due to the sunlight pouring in through the crack in between the blinds that cover the London City landscape, I find that Rachel is nowhere in sight. I decide to get up and search the flat for her just to put my mind at rest. Once I’ve found a t-shirt to shrug on, I pad into the living room, and there she is, slouched over something with her back to me, at the small circular table that I never use.

I take a second to try and figure out what she’s doing before going over to the kitchen to make a cup of strong coffee. “Morning.” I yawn, waiting for a reply. I don’t get one. There’s already a pot of coffee sitting on the stove that she must have made this morning. That would explain the mug beside her. I pour some for myself, adding some milk and a teaspoon of sugar before walking over and ducking my head around her curtain of hair to give her a kiss on the cheek.

I surprise her, making her jump a little before I take a seat. “Morning.” I take her headphones out gently, to find her looking quite flustered and stressed in my presence.

“Sorry. I didn’t hear you…” Her music is turned up quite loud; loud enough for me to hear a radio presenter interrupt the music that was just playing.

“You could have put that on the speakers.”

She moves some pieces of paper around, finding a better way of ordering them on the table around her. “I didn’t want to wake you. Sorry about this.”

“Are you okay? You look stressed.”

“Mmm… yeah.” It’s not convincing enough.

“What time did you get up?” I take a long sip of the coffee, slouching over the table and watching her as she ruffles through other pieces of paper, leaflets and hand-outs; all with tiny little extracts of writing that have been highlighted and annotated.

“Quite early… I think it was 7. Maybe 6.”

We only got back from the party at 2, so that would explain the dark circles around her eyes.

“I know, I know. I’m crazy. But I woke up in a panic remembering that this essay has to be done for when we go back to school. I couldn’t go back to sleep when it was still on my mind.”

“What is all of this?” I ask, picking up a piece of paper which she’s left discarded in the middle. It looks like a newspaper article; one about a Parisian man who claims to have met Jesus in a reoccurring dream. I don’t read too much into it, but towards the end of the article it explains that the guy is now suffering some type of serious mental condition and being restrained for his own safety inside of a mental asylum. Deep stuff.

“It’s for psychology. I have to write an essay about the effect of dreams on human development and the core parts of a person’s brain.” She regards me helplessly. “You don’t happen to know anything about psychology or the effect of dreams on a person’s mentality do you?” I really wish I could help.

“Sorry,” I tap the side of my temple. “Nothing up here but singing and knowing how to deal with a hormonal, teenage fandom.”

“Right.” She smiles, rolling her eyes as if she should have guessed. She picks up a biro, rolling it around in between her fingers and running her opposite hand through the hair falling around her shoulders. I can’t leave her like this; it surely can’t be healthy for anybody to be stressing about anything this much.

“I can tell you one thing though.” She looks up at me curiously, a frown on her face as she waits for what I was about to say. “I did have a dream last night.”

“Yeah?” Her face softens as she leans into my embrace, resting her chin on my shoulder as I rub her back and shoulders.

“Yeah, we were having a really relaxed day; watching the films that are going to be playing on TV all day with no work or phone calls or school essays. Just a big warm duvet and maybe some chocolate.”

“Tempting.” She separates from me, shuffling her papers into one pile and turning them face down. Her features start to relax instantly. “As long as I can come back to these later on and you’re not going to distract me all day.”

“Okay, fine. But only once we’ve reached our full quota of movies.” I smile, standing up to put the TV on and convert the sofa into a cuddly space to watch the films.

“Do you have popcorn?” I have to think. Did I remember to buy some to replace the last lot I ate when the boys came round? Yeah, I think so.

“I’m sure I’ll be able to find something.”

“And one other thing.”


“I heard Toy Story’s going to be on.”

“Great.” I chuckle.


Niall and I have been lying around all morning and afternoon, eating our way through a stack of banana and Nutella pancakes whilst surfing for movies that interest us on the TV channels. I'm absolutely stuffed, but quite predictably, it's 6pm and Niall's already starting to get hungry again.

I scroll down my twitter feed, smiling at the picture that pops up multiple times. The fans are going crazy for it, spamming my account with the sight of me asleep against Niall’s chest last night. Louis uploaded the photo and he’s only just visible in the background behind Niall from an arm’s length of his phone, as if he was taking the photo.

‘THIS IS TOO CUTE @RosieeStephens @Niall_Official’

‘IDEC WHAT YOU GUYS THINK. I SHIP NIALLSIE 4EVS @RosieeStephens @Niall_Official’

‘LOOK AT THE WAY HE’S SMILING AT HER. I CANT. @RosieeStephens @Niall_Official’

‘LOUIS I LOVE YOU. THANKYOOUU SASS QUEEN @RosieeStephens @Niall_Official’

The comments go on and on, some of them being rude or acting jealous about the situation, but it doesn’t bother me anymore. I see so many of them and I know it’s only because they envy me –that’s not my fault. I can’t please everyone one hundred percent of the time.

“Have you seen this?” I ask Niall, holding my phone out to him. He looks at it from where he’s rooting in the cupboards, squinting to see what it is.

“Oh yeah. Louis took that last night. Quite popular huh?” He smirks, going back to whatever he’s looking for.

“It’s cute.” I make it my screen saver and abandon my phone on the coffeetable. I’ve been making more of an effort to spend more quality time with Niall –especially after getting a taste of what it’s like to be without him. I shudder at the memory and try to forget about it.

He sits back down on the sofa, tucking his feet under my legs and the blanket as he starts demolishing his way into a box of sour cream and chive Pringles.

"You could just order a pizza."

"I might." He thinks about my idea before adding another whole Pringle to the bottomless pit of his stomach. Suddenly he frowns, looking down at his belly.

"I really need to stop eating so much junk. Look at me."

I raise an eyebrow; unsure of whatever it is he's going on about. "Niall what are you talking about? Do you realise how good your metabolism is?"

"Yeah but it can't be healthy right? And I don't want to end up with a big belly right as the next tour starts."

"You won't. You're perfect." He literally is -so toned and muscular and strong, and yet I can't remember ever seeing him doing any fitness or training. I regard him, chuckling to myself as he munches Pringle after Pringle. "I think you're right though. Maybe you could fit a few more vegetables and fruits into your diet."

"I had bananas this morning." He retorts.

"Oh yes, sorry, how could I forget those sugary, chocolatey banana pieces?"

"Okay, okay." He laughs.

"But there's a rule from now on." I add, stirring confusion and curiosity.


"There's no such thing as a diet in this relationship.  Not for you and especially not for me."

"Sorry, a what?" He smiles proudly like a child who needs to be rewarded. I lean over and kiss the cheek that he's pointing me towards. "I agree. The 'd' word will no longer be mentioned from here on forward. Who needs one of those anyway?"

"Great. And not us." I smile, leaning my head on Niall's shoulder. I take one of the crisps out of his hand, making his eyes go wide until he shakes the can for another one and shrugs his shoulders.

I turn it over in my hand, the white powder rubbing off on my fingers. "Doritos or Pringles?"

He takes a second, acting like it's a hard decision to make. "Pringles -they have more flavours. What about you?"

"Doritos. Nothing beats a pack of the cool original ones. And I swear they're better for you ‘cause they're baked and not fried."

"I never thought about that... Maybe you're right. We should go on a Doritos diet." He's just teasing.

"Yeah, right, I bet your trainer would like that."

"Well he can't do jack until I've recovered from my operation. Right now is my chance to eat crap and gain weight."

"Have fun with that then." I lean back against the sofa, smiling at him out of the corner of my eyes as he happily munches his food. "Hmm..."


"I was just wondering… are you worried about your operation?"

"I'm excited, it will mean my knee won't play up again which I can't wait for –it’s been hurting for the last few days." I think about him barricaded in this apartment with no one to console him about his painful knee and it makes me feel sad. He should have at least let one of the boys take care of him. He turns to look at me with those honest, crystal blue eyes. "But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't shitting it. I've never had an operation before and I’ll be on crutches for so long."

"It's okay," I say ruffling my hand through his long quiff and resting my head on his shoulder. "I'll be here."

He puts on his childish voice -the one that immediately turns him back into that 16 year old boy that all the fans fell in love with, rather than my 20 year old man. "You'll look after me?"

"Of course." I smile, pecking a kiss on his lips. He returns the favour by giving me one back and beaming with all of his teeth. "Why else did you think I asked what your favourite snacks are?"

"You're good." He smiles, a happy energy emitting from him. "But if you really want to impress me you'll be able to find some gansitos. They're these sick little cakes like twinkies. Or there are sabor jamon ruffles which are the best ham flavoured crisps in the world. Me and Liam found both of those in Spain." He goes into his own little world of dreamy food whilst I sit, staring at him in pure amazement. "What? You're staring at me funny..." He starts to pout.

"Say that again." I smile, carefully encouraging him.

"Say what? That me and Liam found them?"

"No, what are the names of those foods?"

"Oh, gansitos and sabor jamon ruffles...?" He repeats it with a perfect Spanish accent but his cheeks start to go red, understanding what I've just realised.

"You're an idiot." I smile. "Why did you tell me you only know a few words of Spanish and that you dropped out of your lessons?"

"I did..."

"Niall you and I both know that's bull shit! Your accent is perfect. Don't make me go on twitter and ask the fans to send me some evidence." I pretend to reach out for my phone, but he takes my wrist, massaging it in his hand before letting it go.

"Okay maybe I lied a little bit. I didn't drop out of Spanish lessons... but I didn't complete high school with that many good grades either." I roll my eyes. He's one of the most talented people I know but he's too self-conscious and modest. Just like Harry, whenever he makes himself out to be cocky it's only because he's putting on a show.

"Say something."

"Tell me what to say and I'll say it."

"Say I'm a little liar who can actually speak Spanish."

He raises his eyebrow and then translates the sentence perfectly for me. "Soy un poco mentiroso que en realidad puede hablar español." I don't know Spanish, but I know that there's no blips in his sentence and it just sounds so fluid as it rolls off of his tongue.

"Say something else."

"Umm..." He takes a second to think and then turns back to me with a sweet and brutally honest gaze. "Eres la más bella chica que he conocido y yo te amará por siempre y para siempre."

I feel my cheeks blush at the sound of his sentence. I don't understand the whole of it but just the two words 'amara' and 'bella' make me quiver with love. I know what they mean. And I must admit, when Niall speaks Spanish he's rather... sexy -for a lack of better words.

I twist one finger in his hair softly with all the understanding I can show him, temporarily curling it until his blonde tuft springs free. I know that what he said was pretty and loving and I want him to know that I heard it. "What did you get then?" I smile, genuinely interested in this new found talent that I've just discovered in my boyfriend. I bet everybody else already knows, but it feels amazing -like he's just developed the talent whilst siting here in front of me.

"I got a B."

"That's good! I'm really impressed Niall." He puffs his chest out proudly and takes a few more Pringles. "I got a B in French..."

" Tres bien! Aww, mon petit-amie est trop intelligente!"

I'm literally blown away. "You can speak French too?"

" Oui. Err ... Un peu. J'ai appris le français à l'école aussi." It takes him a little bit longer to conjugate this sentence but now he's just showing off.

"Alright mister. Make your mind up -you either don't speak any foreign languages at all or you speak multiple. There's no sitting on the fence okay?"

"We can be a multilingual couple." The idea is bright behind his eyes and his charming grin. "You never told me you did French anyway." He's right. But I might have told him if I knew he was multilingual too. I can only speak a little bit of French anyway- I wouldn't describe myself as fluent, although I used to have a tutor back when I was doing my GCSEs. I wish I had done better in that exam -Monsieur Marine, my teacher, kept telling me that I could have come out with an A, but I prioritised in my A level subjects instead. What I'm trying to say is that I was much better before I decided to drop the subject.

Niall suddenly gets excited, and turns to me quickly. "This is so cool. None of the other boys speak that much French. We'll be able to talk freely without them understanding us."

"Why would we need to do that?" I laugh at his logic.

"I don't know," he laughs, finding an excuse. "If we want to make a quick getaway when we're out with them… or if we want to talk about them behind their backs to annoy them. It's fun when I curse them in Spanish and they don't know what I'm saying, but it would be even more fun if someone else knew what I was saying."

"It can be our little thing."

"Yeah." He’s right. It does sound interesting.

"Niall I want us to learn together and become better at it. I haven’t really practiced in a while but I’d like to get better. We should try to talk to each other in French at least a little bit each day."

"We can do that, but why?"

I kneel up, putting us at the same height. "Imagine how great it will be being able to talk to your fans. I want you to be confident -no more of this shy business."

"Okay," he smiles, not needing much more of an explanation. “You don’t need to do that, but they’ll love it. I think it’s a great idea.”

"I love you." I say, falling back into his arms. Niall discards the Pringle box onto the couch next to him. That hardly ever happens.

He nuzzles into me, kissing my neck just below where my hair is falling to one shoulder. "I love you too beautiful. Now what movie should we watch?"

"Whatever, I don't mind."

"Finding Nemo is on in five minutes." I have flashbacks to the last time I watched it with Rach; I was bawling.

"Umm... Okay but I'm gonna cry in the first bit. Maybe the second bit too…" I don’t particularly want to cry in front of Niall; he’s seen it enough to last him a lifetime already.

I lean back to see his reaction. He just glances down at me with an understanding grin. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't tear up the last couple of times I watched it."

The movie starts and everything is fine, until just as I predicted, the mother clownfish is killed by the shark and there is only one egg left.

"It's so sad." I whisper, dabbing the tears running down my cheeks with the sleeve of my jumper. The tears flow once again when Nemo is taken by the divers, but each time Niall tightens his arms around my chest, pulling me closer to him and whispering things to me.

"Don't cry Rosie. You know how it turns out in the end. It's okay. And you know that if he never got lost then they wouldn't have met Dory. She's a craic."

Niall's so sweet bless him, cheering me up with kisses and silly songs. I feel so pathetic -I'm only crying about a movie, but he's making it his mission to stop me from being sad. When it gets to the part where Dory comes into the film, the whole experience starts to get better. We laugh at her forgetfulness, imitate her infamous quotes and sing along with her 'What do we do? We swim' song. Right before Nemo finds his way back into the ocean, Niall gets up again to get us some popcorn and order a pizza. Sometimes the most unexpected and lazy days can actually turn out being the best.


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