#he needs to let out all that pent u[ tension he's been carrying since he was a boy

[bitacrytic]

DISCLAIMER: I am not an eunseom/tanya shipper. i think they shouldn't have kissed. i think they should have existed for two more seconds in each other's presence before they made their entire relationship romantic.

-

However, I am more sympathetic to that ship than whatever could happen between her and saya or yangcha becuase:

Saya is NEVER going to happen. Ever since the day he pushed her against the tree and tried to kiss her against her will, tanya has stopped seeing him as some cute extension of his brother. she can barely stand to be in the same room as him. the only reason she's working with him is because she's made her own assumptions of what the prophecy means and thinks that working with saya will somehow save eunseom. nothing more. they haven't grown closer in ten years. they've grown apart. they're drawn to each other under the umbrella of "people who want to get rid of tagon" and that's it. besides, considering how much saya made it obvious that he wanted to conquer her somehow in season one, i wouldn't want them to be together. not to mention the fact that if she hadn't drawn boundaries with that emotionally stunted man, he'd have been taking her for granted and treated her way worse than he already does.

Yangcha is nice to her and believes in her and wears her bell and protects her and is always by her side. but yangcha is an extension of tagon. he started out that way and even though it's been ten years, tanya obviously hasn't let go of it. she's taken liberties with his trust to see if he'd report her and so far, he hasn't. he's been loyal. she knows that. but she's still a bit distrustful of him. the fact that she resorted to reminding him of all the times he's betrayed tagon tells us this. because she could have convinced him to keep quiet without throwing his loyalty in his face like that. (it wasn't fair and i felt bad for him, but i'm always glad when tanya does something neferious) yangcha is not number one. as much as he has done for her, he really isn't. yeah, it's sad, but she doesn't love him and honestly, she doesn't have to. it's her affection to give and no one is owed affection.

Eunseom has been built up to be PERFECT in tanya's eyes. it's been eleven years since she last saw him and the last time she did, he was trying to save them. in her head, he's still trying. he's wholesome and loving and perfect and can do no wrong. even while eunseom is telling her the horrible things he's done... the horrible things he will do... all tanya is hearing is "if i help him, his hands will remain cleaner." she remembers that loving carefree boy from wahan and she will never believe such a boy could become the man that eunseom actually is. she's built this guy up in her head that she doesn't want to believe he's doing all these things of his own accord. she's lying for his sake. she's protecting him. because she hasn't seen him for over a decade, she's written his backstory and she's sticking with it.

Neither yangcha nor saya stand a chance while eunseom is alive. if he'd died, maybe she would have moved on. but he's been alive. he's been fighting. and now he's returned with more than one mantel.

everyone else might see tanya as a god, but to her, he is two gods.

yangcha and saya will never stand a chance.

[mollymauk-teafleak]

but now i wanna hold you too

y’all need to read the nightrunners series. Or if you want to just read some smut, you should read this fic and then go comment on it over at Ao3

Dedicated to @minky-for-short whose just been so patient with my infodumping about this boys 

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There were few things Seregil found more freeing than taking off his coat.

It was such a simple action, something most people never considered, just one step in the comforting but ultimately innocuous walk to one’s own home and hearth and bed. But as Seregil took off the too heavy coat with it’s flashy cold buttons and elaborate gold threadwork, as he abandoned it over the arm of the poor, long suffering mermaid statue in the sitting room, it was like he was taking off more than just a piece of clothing. He was taking off the name that didn’t belong to him, the lord’s face that looked like his own superficially but was different in a thousand imperceptible ways that still mattered to him. With the coat off, he knew he’d said goodbye to Lord Seregil with his effortless charm and flattery and lazy smile that took more out of him to maintain than anyone would think. He could let his shoulders fall out of the prim lord’s posture and breathe deeply, he could feel wholly himself and no one else.

For someone who had made a life out of being people other than Seregil, who’d woven deception and spying and night running into the very bones of himself, that moment where the act dropped like the curtain at the end of a play that had run just a few scenes too long was a relief.

And there was also the knowledge that, most times, hanging up his coat meant he could move further into the warm, welcoming clutter of the living space neatly hidden within the Stag and Otter and find Alec. Some nights he would be sat at the small forge, working on a project Seregil had set him some time before, though never more than a few days. Alec was one of the smartest, most quick learners Seregil had ever met. It was never long before he cracked his little tests and puzzles. Some nights he would be restringing his precious bow or oiling it’s sleek dark wood by candlelight, fletching new arrows and sharpening the iron heads of them to wicked points even though the city never offered many chances to use them. Sometimes he would be in the centre of the room with the worst of the mess pushed back from the carpet, sword in hand, practising his slash and parry back and forth across the room.

But Seregil’s favourites were nights like this one, where Alec was doing nothing more than sitting in the comfy expanse of the sofa, Ruthea curled up and purring on his lap, a cup of tea by one elbow and a book in one hand. It did Seregil’s heart good to find him content and resting, making their small rooms feel truly like a home, even with all the other homes he’d had and lost.

Tonight there seemed to be a particular fierceness to the love that gripped his chest as he saw him there, as he walked behind the sofa and bent to press a kiss to his forehead, feeling his warm skin under his own cold fingertips, the softness of his hair tickling his nose.

“I missed you,” was all Alec said, his voice cracking with disuse. He mustn’t have said a word since Seregil left in the early afternoon, lost in his book.

“I missed you too, talí,” Seregil breathed, knowing Alec was feeling his relief and commanding rush of love through the thread that tied their hearts together.

Though he wouldn’t really have needed the talimenios bond. Alec was the only other person who understood that deep, steadying inhalation you could only ever take after all the disguises and tricks fell away and you found yourself again. The sensation of coming home to safety, a hard won, precious safety, was something he’d experienced himself.

And something they should have been sharing.

“Did you miss me enough to forget you’re mad at me?” Sergeil murmured hopefully, tracing his lips along Alec’s hairline.

Alec gave a grunt, nose wrinkling, “I did until you just reminded me.”

“Now, talí,” Seregil slid his hands down Alec’s sides, feeling his friend’s warm body through the thin material of his loose shirt, “You weren’t well enough to come out tonight and you know it. What would you have told me, if I’d been the one to wake up hours before sunrise to vomit profusely out of the window?”

“But I feel fine now!” Alec protested, something more playful about how he whined now when compared to his genuine bitter disappointment that morning when Seregil had made him stay in bed, “So I would have been fine to come housebreaking with you!”

“Neither of us knew that this afternoon,” Seregil gave his hips a squeeze, “I would have spent the whole time worrying about you tumbling from some height or giving us away by throwing up into Lady Ramina’s shrubbery.”

Alec scowled, looking frankly far too adorable when he did, “Fine...and it went alright?”

“Smooth as silk,” Seregil smiled, “Any and all compromising letters have been safely returned to their rightful owner.”

“Lady Ramina actually used to hire the Rhiminee cat. You’d think she’d make sure her house would actually be safe against him.”

Seregil shrugged lazily, thumbs playing with the buttons on Alec’s trousers, “You know what nobles are like. Always thinking themselves exempt from the very worst, above any kind of poetic justice.”

“I can see why you play one so well then,” Alec teased, very well aware of where his lover’s hands were and quite deliberately not commenting on it.

Seregil huffed and nipped the lobe of one ear lightly to make him squeal, “So...you said you’re feeling better?”

“Right as summer rain, talí. Why?” Alec hummed with a maddening innocence that was doing nothing to curb the tightening Seregil felt between his own legs.

“Perhaps I can give you something to make up for being left behind?”

In their private rooms, sealed with magic and walls of thick stone, it was like the outside world didn’t exist. The noise of the city of Rhiminee was barely a murmur, quieter than the crackling of the candles or the whisper of the wind. The two of them could be anywhere, back in their little cottage in the mountains, back in the land of the Aurenfaie, on any of their adventures.

But right now there was nowhere Seregil wanted to be than here.

Alec clearly had a lot of pent up adrenaline he’d been saving for their job, all of it was now flowing into Seregil everywhere their skin pressed close, in the younger man’s arms around his neck, in the inside of his thighs as they held fast around Seregil’s hips so he could carry him towards their bed, in the fingers that pushed through his long, dark hair, in their lips crushed against each other as their kissing became manic and messy with their need.

Their clothes were abandoned back in the sitting room; both of them were naked when they finally toppled over into bed, Seregil finding himself dragged by Alec who was completely unwilling to have any space between them. The ropes creaked, the bed still not as broken in as Seregil’s old one. They’d have that fixed before too long.

Already Alec was making those noises Seregil loved so much, the keening whines, the gasps, the high, broken off moans. With his friend underneath him, he could see every beautiful moment of his arousal growing wild and all consuming. A blush had risen on his fair skin, right across his chest and up his neck and across his face, fire on snow. Seregil followed it down, kissing at the hollow of his throat to feel his pulse between his lips, licking the faint salty taste of the day from Alec’s skin then down to swirl his tongue around one nipple at a time until both were flushed and stiff even in the warm of the room.

Alec seemed to be trying to say something, his quickly kindling arousal and Seregil’s hungry attentions turning his words to pleading cries. He decided to take a little pity on his lover, rising up to grin at him with kiss swollen lips.

“My love? Deep breaths, talí, let me hear you…”

Alec swallowed, the motion making the marks Seregil had left there seconds before shine in the candle light, “I want you to...to talk to me...in that way you do, the way I like…”

Seregil’s smirk flared with delight, his eyes sparkling wickedly, “Oh. Like that you mean?”

Alec bit down on his lower lip, eyelids fluttering as he whispered, “Please?” Seregil had to steady himself a moment, the sight could have been enough to finish him then and there if he were a weaker man.

“Of course, my heart,” Seregil kissed his mouth softly, quickly, enough to undo the tension in his expression.

He knew it could still be hard for Alec sometimes, to ask for what he wanted between their sheets. Especially asking for this, this game they played that deliberately skirted the line between what Alec’s heart and body cried out for and what he’d always been raised to think of as dirty and scandalous. Seregil could have burst with pride in how far he’d come since the day they met, how much more comfortable he was with himself and what he wanted. And if this little bedroom game was proof of it, he would gladly throw himself into it whenever he was asked.

And, of course, it helped that it was hot as hell.

Seregil’s manner shifted, his expression turning salacious. He straddled Alec tighter, making sure he could feel his erection press against him, the skin hot and firm. Alec’s own cock was a hard iron bar against the small of Seregil’s back, the skin there fast becoming slick.

“Look at you,” Seregil purred, his voice smoky and low, “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Alec’s gasp was half a groan. His skin flamed even more furiously and his only answer was a shudder and his cock leaking more slick against Seregil’s tailbone.

“And here I thought you were a good little Dalnan boy…” Seregil bent to mouth at him more, along the underside of his jaw where he was most sensitive, his hands coming to grip his wrists, “Supposed to be so sweet and innocent, yet here you are whining for me. Wanting me.”

Alec began to pant softly, squirming under him.

“You do want me, don’t you? Did it get too cold for you up in those mountains of yours, did it get you needing a little heat?”

He emphasised that with a roll of his hips and Alec nearly screamed, “Yes, fuck, yes…”

“Of course you do,” Seregil murmured, enjoying his role in their little two person play, “I can see it in the way you look at me, I can feel it in how hard you are. You want me to take that cock inside me and ride you until you can’t remember your own name?”

Alec practically sobbed out his affirmative and Seregil would have been worried if he didn’t know this was how he got when he took the submissive angle, and if he didn’t know that Alec adored it and could change his mind at any time. He knew the words to say if it got too much, they both did.

“So much for Dalnan modesty, eh?” Seregil smirked wickedly, rising up to leave Alec cold and trembling without his touch while he leaned over to grab the bottle of oil that never left their nightstand.

The smell of it was heaven, all citrus and deep wood smells that reminded him of Aurënen. It oozed over his fingers in a faintly amber stream, mingling wonderfully with the sharp salt of shared sweat and slick. As much as Seregil would have liked to linger in it, Alec was waiting and he’d pushed the poor thing to the very edge of his patience.

Preparing himself was a quick, hasty task, risen up on his knees with his hand reaching between his legs. He took no special attention over it, he liked it to still sting a little when he took Alec in.

He would never get used to it. Whether they had each other a million more times, and Seregil hoped they would, he couldn’t ever imagine himself getting used to that moment when he slid down slowly on Alec’s cock and felt every movement of his muscles acquiescing, the hollow in himself opening wide, his body stretching and reshaping to fit him so close that they were more one and whole than two and separate. Even though he was meant to be playing the conqueror tonight, Seregil couldn’t help but gasp and tip his head back, surrendering if only for a moment.

He guided Alec’s hands to his hips, holding them there as he began to rock, rising and falling with aching slowness at first.

“Tell me how good it feels,” he growled, hair falling across his face.

Alec’s fingers bit into his narrow hips and his voice was a breathy moan, “So good. By Illor, by the Maker, by every single one of them, damn me, damn me but it feels so good…”

Seregil sped up slightly, relying on his knees to lever him. They’d ache in the morning but right now, all that thought did was turn him on more.

“You were made for this,” Seregil gasped, having to reach back and steady himself with one arm as he rode him harder and faster, “Fuck what they all said, you are mine and you were made for this.”

“Yes,” Alec cried out, determined to hold still and let Seregil take the lead but he couldn’t help rising and falling to meet him just a little, it was too natural for their bodies to follow each other, “I’m yours, Seregil, I’m yours…”

“My heart,” Seregil grunted, face tightening, “My talí.”

Alec’s ability to form words fell away as he was gripped utterly by need, clearly close in the way the muscles in his neck were standing out like tense chords, how his fingers were tight enough to leave bruises on his lover’s waist, how he grunted with every thrust . Seregil was almost there himself and in no mood to deny them any longer. He pushed himself that last little bit more, until he couldn’t give anything else.

But it was enough. Alec could only roar wordlessly as his climax pulled him under but Seregil, frozen in place as his lover’s heat flooded him so deep he could feel it in his stomach and, hell, even below his ribs, he managed to gasp his name like a prayer, as if suddenly he were playing the fallen devotee.

Alec was limp and trembling under him, completely undone. Seregil leaned back on both his arms now, catching his breath in slow, even pants.

“I love you,” he heard Alec murmur, voice so soft and sincere it broke his heart.

Seregil gently pulled Alec free of him but quickly made up for the loss by taking his lover in his arms. In recent years, the Dalnan had grown to overtop him by a few inches but that didn’t stop him from lying on his back and letting Alec rest on his chest, arms safe and secure around him.

“I love you too, talí,” he murmured into the darkness as the candles began to gutter out, leaving them in a room of shadows and the heady smell of sex, “So, so much.”

The different face and the name that didn’t fit right, they weighed on Seregil if he wore them too long. The expectations he had to fill, the seemingly endless rules a Rhiminee noble had to abide by, the way he had to smile and simper and be buoyed along by gossip, it grew so weary sometimes. That coat could be heavy, for such a simple piece of clothing.

But there would always be a moment, as they toured the gambling halls or the parlous of the city’s upper class or even the grand balls of the palace in an endless cycle, when Seregil would catch Alec’s eye. And he’d see the love shining there under his own disguise, like a light you could still see, just under the surface of a cool, still lake.

And Seregil would know that no matter what coat he wore, Alec saw him. Alec knew him, he knew his heart inside and out, he could feel it beating just behind his own.

Alec would always call him by the only name that had ever mattered.

[waywardnerd67]

The Queen’s Court: Chap. 9 Walk In

Summary: Several weeks after getting back from Purgatory, (Y/N) is starting to take clients again and one comes over unscheduled. Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader Pairing: Dean x Reader Warnings: Smut/Angst Word Count: 1857 Squared Filled: Coitus Interruptus A/N #1: This is for @spnkinkbingo​ card A/N #2: As always this is unbeta so all mistakes are mine. Likes, comments and reblogs are splendid and I will love you doubly for them! Enjoy!

Check Out: The Queen’s Court Masterlist

(Y/N) leaned against her door as she closed it. She wrapped her silk robe tighter around her taking a deep breath. Her evening had been busy with two of her regulars coming for appointments. They had been eager to see her again once she had sent the text out she was accepting appointments.

“Hey (Y/N), wanted to see if we could chat.”

“(Y/N), is everything okay? We haven’t heard from you since… you know.”

“(Y/N), we are worried about you. May I pop in to make sure you are alright?”

The latest text coming from Castiel, whom she knew would come on his own if she did not answer, “Hey Cas, I’m fine. My schedule has been busy. I’ll let you know when I’m free.”

As soon as her text was sent there was a knock at her door. She took a deep breath before walking over and welcoming her last client in. She had a feeling who it was when she saw the appointment pop up on her schedule. The initials J.M. was listed making her skin crawl.

“Hello Jeremy, please come in.” He walked in loosening his tie.

“I have to say I was surprised to see you taking clients again, (Y/N). Not that I haven’t enjoyed spending my time with Lorelei, but no one compares to you.” His fingers brushed down the side of her arm making her shiver.

Taking a quick breath she smiled up at him taking his hand, “Well then let’s not wait. Why don’t you get ready in my room and I will be right in.”

Jeremy leaned down smacking her ass hard, “Don’t take too long.”

(Y/N) closed her eyes, shaking her hands to release the nervousness from her body. Jeremy was the only client of hers to return that genuinely made her stomach churning. She could have cancelled or even just told Lorelei to take him but she needed to build up her reserve again. Saying a quick prayer to whoever would listen she opened her eyes and walked into her bedroom.

Jeremy was lying on her bed with his hand slowly pumping his cock. He was not the smallest man she had ever been with but nowhere near the best. (Y/N) shrugged off her robe revealing her bare skin and smiling coyly at him.

“Damn, I’ve missed that sight. You’re sexier than the last time I saw you.” his fingers slipped down cupping his sack as she crawled onto the bed.

“I have to say I was surprised to hear you giving up a night with Lorelei,” she left a trail of kisses up his thigh, “I’ve heard you have grown extremely fond of her and her many talents.”

(Y/N) wrapped her fingers gently around his shaft, lazily stroking him as he let out a satisfying sigh, “I have a special fondness for her since she enjoys my taste in toys. However no one compares to you. Take right now, I’m ready to come right now just from the slightest touch from you.”

She kissed and licked her way up until she was hovering over his tip sinking down on him slowly, “Then why keep us waiting…” slowly she grinded against him.

Jeremy’s hands disappeared beneath the pillow under his head, “Fuck you feel so good. Close your eyes and just enjoy my cock filling that tight hole of yours.”

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep the giggle from bubbling out. His dirty talk had not improved but she did as he said moaning at just the right moment. That was when she felt the cold leather strap across her back. (Y/N)’s eyes snapped open just as he pulled her down to him.

“I think you need a proper fucking. The fucking that has you screaming and crying my name.” Jeremy snapped his hips against bouncing her forward roughly.

(Y/N) tried to get up but his hold on his belt around her was tight, “Jeremy you know I don’t like belts in my bedroom. We can finish this but the belt goes or you can ge-”

He thrusted roughly against her again, “I paid for your time so I’ll fuck you how I want.”

There was a loud crash from her office followed by loud footsteps getting closer to her bedroom. The door slammed opened as Jeremy let go of the belt and pushed her off, “Who the fuck are you?”

Stunned she watched as Dean’s dark eyes looked from Jeremy then to her and back to Jeremy. His fist clenched at his side and his jaw tightened into a straight line. He grabbed Jeremy’s clothes and threw them at him, “You need to leave. Now.”

His menacing tone sent shivers down her spine as Jeremy stood up in all his glory, “The fuck I do. I paid good money for her and I plan to get what I want.”

“Here,” Dean walked over slapping a wad of money against Jeremy’s chest before gathering his clothes and pushing him out to the office, “Here is your money plus some. I suggest you leave now why your face is intact and never contact (Y/N) again.”

(Y/N) quickly grabbed her robe wrapping it around herself and rushed next to Dean, “Jeremy, please just go and see Lorelei. No cost to you of course and I will make sure Lorelei is paid generously.”

He was pulling his pants up, “You know what you’re not worth my money anyway with your vanilla ways. You can have her.”

Jeremy stormed out of her office slamming the door that (Y/N) now noticed had the handle broken on it. She turned around narrowing her rage filled eyes on Dean, “What the hell was that al-”

Dean swept her off her feet carrying her back into her bedroom with lips crashing to hers. His large hands squeezing her thighs rubbing her core against his hard length. His mere essence of sweet whiskey and leather overwhelmed her judgement to push him away. Dean’s rough lips were scratching their way down her neck bringing out a long sigh from her.

“Dean…” she whispered as he laid her down on the bed.

“Shhh.” Dean stood in front of her stripping out of his clothes, his eyes never leaving hers.

She could not help herself as she admired his toned body. She noticed a couple of new scars on his flat stomach and his thigh. He crawled over her kissing his way up her body until he was resting between her legs. Feeling his weight on top of her made her body release all the tension pent up within it. Dean reached between them guiding his swollen tip to her entrance.

His lips pressed against her ear as he slowly pushed inside of her, “I’ve needed you so badly. Needed to be as close to you as possible. To feel you all around me. God, you feel like heaven.”

(Y/N) moaned into his shoulder as he filled her completely. Dean stayed perfectly still letting them both relish in the moment of being connected fully to one another. He began to roll his hips gently against her the familiar glorious pressure building deep in her.

“Ohh… more Dean… please.” She groaned as he picked up his pace.

The soft grunts and moans coming from him had her stomach tightening. The sounds of their slick skin connecting echoed through the room. (Y/N) wrapped her legs around his narrow waist bringing him even deeper satisfying them both.

Dean pressed his forehead against hers, his hot breath fanning against her face, “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I’m so close sweetheart. Come with me, pretty girl.”

“Oh god Dean, harder. God I’m so close just… more.” She dug her nails into his lower back as he snapped his hips against her.

(Y/N) cried out as he reached between them his thumb rubbing rough circles against her sensitive clit. Waves of pleasure pulsating throughout her body as she felt his cock twitch deep within her. His body trembling as he grinded himself deeper within her riding out his own release.

They were both breathing heavily, Dean was still firm within her unmoving with his eyes closed. (Y/N) brought her hands to either side of his face feeling a dampness on his cheeks. His eyes opened, tears falling down them and her heart dropped.

“What’s wrong, Dean?” She wiped his cheeks with her thumbs.

He sniffled, “I was worried about you.”

Dean slowly pulled out of her immediately holding her close to him as they laid next to one another. His hand brushing down her arm as he spoke.

“We didn’t hear from you. Sam texted and called. Cas texted and called. Then Sam called Jess to check in on you and found out you were taking clients again. When I found out I rushed over here because you shouldn’t have to take clients when it’s my fault you’re in the situation you are.” Dean took a deep breath.

“Dean,” she gently touched his chest, “It wasn’t your fault. I followed you even when you told me to leave. After everything that happened in Purgatory I needed time to regroup. I didn’t know where things stood between us. I wanted to build my reserve back up by taking clients again.”

He propped his head up, “What if Sam, Cas and I provided you with a reserve so you didn’t have to take clients?”

(Y/N) sighed, “I don’t need you to give me money because you feel guilty. I can earn my money the same way I did when I started this business. I don’t need a handout.”

“It’s not a handout. This is our way to contribute to your business. We can be silent partners in this. I don’t… we don’t like random clients coming in here that could hurt you. We just want to protect you because we care for you.” She could tell he was holding back.

She sat up not caring if she was covered, “I don’t know about this. I feel like it’s a handout. Plus after a year of being gone are you sure Sam and Cas even want to keep our original arrangement?”

Dean sat up pulling her onto his lap as he leaned back against the headboard, “Trust me, they miss you almost as much I do. We… we love you and you’re family. We protect and take care of our own. Unless you don’t want us to be around anymore?”

Her chest ached at the thought of not having the three men in her life. (Y/N) pressed her lips against his, taking him by surprise for a moment then she felt his hand move up into her hair. He trapped her bottom lip gently between his teeth sucking on it making her moan.

“Does that mean you’ll stop seeing clients and only see Sam, Cas and I?” he asked.

She nodded, “Yes. I will only be with you three.”

Dean rolled her over pinning her to the bed, “Good because I’m not done with you yet.”

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[fauxfables]

Without 🛋️

A/N: This piece is very long and has taken me a long time to write for several reasons. But I hope this is what these lovely people hoped for when they sent in their requests (x x x)! Love you all and I hope you have a great day :)

Harry had always been in awe of you.  

From the moment he had you in his life, his heart had been filled with your gentle compassion. He had admired your instinctive kindness, personally witnessing the way you’d give a piece of your heart to everyone in your life. “Being kind is all that I can give” he’d hear you say and it breaks him just a little when he watches your smile falter for a fraction of a second, before you arch your eyes and nod your head slightly towards him in reassurance. You’re doing it again, he gathers, putting up a front to satisfy the people around you. Making sure they remained lost in their pursuit of happiness while you’re left alone to pick up your own shattered pieces.

Harry had regretted that night the most. The first, of many, where your heart felt particularly heavy as you smiled and whispered “I’m fine” to his concerned eyes. The silk of your dress clumped at your shoulders as you walked away from him then, away from a night of celebrating your recent promotion at work and into a cab to nurse your friend that had gulped too much tequila to shove away his own misfortunate thoughts.

He looked at his watch again, recalling the ten minutes that had passed since you gingerly held his hand and walked in the club together (fashionably late as always).  Only ten minutes for someone to transform a night devoted to you to a night spent collecting tears and vomit. It baffles him really; you hadn’t blinked at the suggestion of taking poor Aidan home. No one else wanted to –  their shifty eyes had been obvious. It was as if they all had silently agreed to let your happiness become swallowed by the desperate plea of your drunken mate.

Has it always been like this? Harry thinks, and he wonders if he’d ever seen your friends return the favour; he hopes they had. It’s then he promises himself to do the same, despite your stubbornness, he’ll hold you the moment your shoulders become raw from carrying the weight of the world.

And he had that early morning when you waddled home. Carelessly dropping your keys unto the floor, along with your coat and heels, you shuffled through your shared apartment when a soft smile tugged at your cheeks.  Harry was stretched across the couch, asleep, presumably waiting up for you. His arms were crossed against his taut chest, his cheek smothered into your favourite rose coloured pillow. Blood rushed from your heart to the tips of your fingers as you moved some curls away from his poufy eyes, carefully waking him up from his light sleep.

“Love,” he grumbled slowly, raising his hand to cover your small one that rested on his cheek. You kissed his raspberry lips lightly then, shoving him a tad to make room for you on the sofa and you swear you never felt more relaxed. “S’Aidan okay?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, closing your eyes and pressing your nose against the warmth of his neck. “Poor boy was apologizing the whole time.”

“He should have,” Harry rasped quickly, kissing your forehead to relieve the tension in his veins, “yeh should’ve been celebrating tonight.”

You nodded at his words, kissing his neck in the process. As much as you wanted to, your friend was in need, it would’ve been cruel to leave him alone in a guttered state. “Do yeh wanna talk about it?” Harry asked hesitantly.

“No,” you breathed, your mind was concerned with something else. “You didn’t have to wait for me on the couch, the beds much comfier.” His soft curls grazed your face as he shook his head and skillfully moved your five foot body to straddle his. He wrapped his legs and arms around you as if hugging a teddy bear and if you weren’t this exhausted, you would have protested to his actions (constantly asking if you were smooshing him with your weight). 

But instead, you shuffled comfortably, and allowed his soft hands to bury itself under your shirt as his raspy voice filled your ears, “Bed feels empty when yeh not there.”

⭐

Harry woke up to an empty bed the next time your care was requested. His eyes squinted through the darkly lit room when he found you hastily pulling on a pair of sweats and a shirt he wore last night that had been carelessly thrown on the floor in the midst of your collected desires.

His voice startled you as you grabbed your satchel and wove it around your head and through your arm. You turned to find Harry rubbing his eyes as he sleepily shifted and sat up to switch the lamp on. Your hooded eyes blinked instinctively from the bright light and you couldn’t help but focus on Harry.

The soft glow illuminated his angelic form, so much so that you could follow the thin hair from his v-line all the way to the swallows on his chest. The blanket had pooled in his lap, and it was very obvious he was naked underneath. Your mouth would have watered at the sight, until your eyes softened when you saw the small pout that pulled at his lip.

“Where yeh goin’ at this hour?” A soft smile tugged at your cheeks as you recognized that deep voice of his that had been scratched from slumber.

“Dante. He called me,” you sighed, pulling your hair into a ponytail. “He was crying … I think Troy left him for good.”

His tired eyes narrowed. “S’this the same bloke who shut yeh out as soon as he gotta boyfriend?”

You nodded a little numbly as you sat on the edge of the bed. In the midst of acquiring a new love, Dante had ignored your texts more often than not, mistaking your birthday to be a month later than it actually was, only to call you for advice when he was in trouble. It wasn’t fair to judge him though; he had dealt with a lot in the past year and you were happy he found someone.  But you couldn’t help but feel a little used. 

The title settled low in your stomach and your heart chipped away at its corners at the thought of him selfishly abusing your kindness. But the warmth of Harry’s hand pulled you out of your reverie as he engulfed it to leave a kiss on your shaky fingers.

He recognized the smile you showed him now; a reassuring one, that hadn’t quite reached your eyes.

“He shouldn’t be alone.”

“Bu’ why do you have to go?” He scoffed, shifting his hands to the curve of your waist. “S’not like he’d do the same.”

“I … No one should be alone,” you breathed indignantly, savouring the warmth of his thumb that massaged your skin. “I’ll be fine.”

“But—”

“Harry,” you mumbled softly, kissing the frown between his eyebrows and shaking your head slightly. “I don’t need a reward to be kind.”

⭐

It took almost a year for Harry to recognize that first sign, where the smile halts at your cheeks and U-turns before it reaches your eyes.  For the most part, anyone would simply smile at your late arrival, despite the hunch in your shoulders and tension between your puffy eyes. If it weren’t for Nick sprawled across the love-seat, snot on the surface of his sleeve, Harry would have gotten up to remove the red cloth off your small shoulders and place a plethora of kisses to your face because he knows it at least buys him a smirk from you on days like this.  

Instead, however, your trench coat is still glued to your skin when Nick comes dashing towards you in a bear hug, sniffling along the way to keep his teary-eyes at bay. Despite Nick’s resistance, a sob echoes the room, now paired with your sweet words as your delicate frame comforts his lanky body.

“What’s wrong, my love?” your voice drips of honey, but Nick refuses to answer, feeling the sting in his eyes and the twists in his gut for the fifth time today.

His silence confuses you for a second (as he gets quite chatty when he’s upset) but your eyes lock with familiar emerald ones over Nick’s shoulder, and Harry mimes his hands into the shape of heart which breaks apart as he points to his watch, and your eyes arch before it crinkles in concern - a terrible break up, one with the rotten excuse of “timing” as closure. Your gaze shifts down for a moment, momentarily thanking all those rounds of heads up, before settling on him again, determination shadowing the dread which once laid there moments before.

“Go make some tea, I’ll calm him down.”

It’s a silent suggestion, one made through eye contact, and Harry sighs a little as he stumbles around the wooden table to the kitchen, reminding himself to make some green tea (with ginger and lemon) for the girl who’s delaying her own tears due to the momentary intrusion.

When Harry shuffles back in, he fixes on the sight in front of him. You’ve moved Nick to the couch by now, your hands are holding his as whispers are past between the two of you. Nick pays no attention to his tears as he’s fixating on your words and the soothing rub of your fingers. 

Harry thinks he should move back to the kitchen, almost feeling he’s intrusion as he’s witnessing the interaction unfold. The clanking of the rings on his favourite mug makes his presence known, and he stiffens at his abrupt disturbance before relaxing as it’s been rightfully ignored.  

“There will be a lot of people who will hurt you. A lot of people that will take you for granted. And despite all that fear, all that pent up panic, you fell in love. You did that, you beautiful soul.” It’s the first smile Harry’s seen from Nick all day, and you mirror the smirk as the inside joke plays between you both. “S’gonna be painful for a while, I won’t lie to you, but … to quote our favourite show … Every life is a pile of good things and bad things. The good things don’t always soften the bad things, but vice versa, the bad things don’t always spoil the good things and make them unimportant.”

There is a low hum that centers in the living room now, and Nick’s thankful for it - for you. And he crashes into your arms again for a tight embrace that he hopes holds all his appreciation.

Harry licks the tea of his fingers once he finally sets the mugs down, and dashes to the other side of the couch to crush you both with a hug of his own and he smiles in triumph (dimples on full display) as laughter bubbles out of the three of you.

“Oi boy get off me you prick!” Nick squeals from the Hawaiian shirt awkwardly stuffed over his mouth. A warm shoulder is awkwardly shoved under your chin as his stupid six foot build nonchalantly rests over the both of you. “You’re fuckin’ heavy!”

A pinch to his love handles sends Harry off the now crushed bodies and when he stands you savour the hint of cologne and warmth that lingers in the air. A dramatic puff escapes your pouty mouth as you peer up at the perpetrator, hair sticking in all sorts of places, and it’s then he sees the smile falter from your face when your eyes momentarily shift from his own to the wall behind him.

Nick is speaking again (with a few sniffles along the way), discussing what movie to watch and Harry’s listening as he sits on the coffee table directly in front of you two, but he can’t help become distracted of the somber aura that’s disintegrated around you now. He wants to know what’s playing in your head when he catches your eyes skirt down to the fingers on your lap.

“Think we should watch the Notebook,” Harry suggests with a little smile, grabbing the two mugs behind him. “Wait – no that’s Y/N’s, this ones yours bud.”

Nick accepts it graciously, blowing over the hot beverage before he spots the mug in your hand. He’s quick to make a jab at his mate for the sheer allowance of you drinking from Harry’s ‘special’ mug, despite the times a raspy voice snapped at Nick for even grabbing at the damn thing. But the joke dies on his tongue once he’s reminded of his exes possessive nature over certain glassware – which he’d reluctantly have to pack up and move out himself. The thought sends a bubble to his throat, and he excuses himself this time, leaving with a quick promise to return before he rushes to the guest bedroom.

“Should we go after him?” Your head is turned to where Nick dashed through, and it gives Harry a moment to study the second sign of the day – dry eyes and the faint discolour of your foundation that begins at your eyes and streams downward.  

His knee bumps yours as he wiggles it closer, right in-between your legs, and his warm fingers sneak to the end of your chin, forcing your gaze towards him. He leaves your question unanswered with only a shake to his head, and he doesn’t speak again, choosing to shift his eyes around your face. The mug is still in your hand and you move away from Harry’s grip to take a sip, admiring the chip at the top from the time you accidentally bumped its glass at the edge of the sink after you scrambled to clean it once you heard a jingle of keys and familiar footsteps at the door.  

He’s observing you now, savouring your strict gaze on the faint smoke above the hot tea, and he almost had to repeat his question. Finally, you looked up with a tired smile, one not quite as strained as before. “Sorry,” you breathed, “I was just thinking.” Your voice was soft, almost tense, like someone had hit you in the gut and you were still recovering. “I get lost a lot these days,” you added shaking your head, “I’m sorry.”

“None of that now,” the mug was moved out of your hands and placed on the spot beside Harry. His hands instinctively rose to cup your cheeks, green eyes shifting to the doorway behind you to ensure privacy. “My love,” he rasps, licking his lips while leaning towards you. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

A deafening silence danced around the room. Your eyes had fallen shut and your frail hand cupped the anchor on his wrist. He guesses you’re contemplating what to tell him, fearing you’d intrude his mind with your troubled thoughts. It’s an improvement, he gathers, when you were just friends you’d simply walk out of the room, but here it’s just him, waiting for you - as he always had. And you’re thankful for it, even more so when he wraps his arms around you when he spots the tight jut to your stomach in retaliation of the tears glistening over your irises.  

“M’here, pet, m’here … not goin’ anywhere - promise.” He kisses your forehead as if to solidify his words and he expects to feel a certain wetness on his shoulder, instead finding your lips molding on his in a sweet kiss. Before you’re able to pull back, though, he presses your lips together again, trying his best to drain all that tension around your body. And he smiles when you melt against him, choosing to pertly kiss the end of your nose as an end to his brief treatment.

He’s looking up at you now when you stand, small hands on taut shoulders as his larger ones rest peacefully on your hips. Your smile is improving now, and it drops a little when you make eye contact with his that shines unbridled. You observe his earnest smile, one to at first please thousands of fans, but the familiar eyes gleam in curiosity, and ... disappointment? 

He wants to know what’s made you upset, but most of all, he wants to know your reluctance in being vulnerable around him. He curses your dedication to ensure the happiness of others, but you’re in his home, in his arms – safe, with a man who loves you dearly – isn’t that enough?

“Let’s go check on Nick, hmm?” His hair feels soft under your touch, and he leans into it, the other hand resting on his cheek as the smooth yet prickly texture battles across his arguably attractive peach fuzz. Your hand then moves out in front of him as you step back. “Come on, bub, wanna make sure he’s okay first. Then we’ll talk.”

⭐

Harry doesn’t hear you walk back in this time. He’s waiting up for you on the couch that same night, TV playing softly in the background as he catches up on his reading. Nick is asleep on the opposite side of the couch, having been too exhausted to wait up for the junk food you had promised to buy him (ben & jerry’s ice cream to be exact). 

You shrug off your coat as agonisingly slowly as possible, frail arms burning from all the boxes you hurriedly packed and carried out of the bloke’s house, and into your car for about three hours straight. Harry had begun to worry at your absence, but a text about your general detour made him relent as he focused all his energy on cheering Nick up.  

Your eyes are straining under the dim light, your chest slumping as your heart, heavy as a ton of bricks, watches the crinkle in his eyebrows when he flicks through the old book you had given him for his birthday.  Sometimes when you see him like this, your stomach cavorts in the image – this man, adored by millions, is waiting up on the couch for you. He’s as mundane as he could be, and it takes nearly a second for you to lick your lips and ultimately declare defeat. 

There’s a quiver at your mouth then and you bite down on your chapped lips to stop the tears rimming your eyes. Your hand flies to your mouth as the vision of Harry blurs and you shuffle across the floor towards him in a soft pace. He doesn’t even notice you yet, until you sniffle and grab the book out of his hand. 

“Love, are yeh –” 

He stops immediately at the startling shake of your head, and his heart breaks at the sight. He’s frozen, almost confused at what to do, but you lead him as you pick his hands as if playing with a doll, while you snake your legs to straddle either side of his waist before you settle your forehead on his shoulders as the sobs shake your small frame. 

He’s warm right now, arms squeezing around you as tight as he can. He shifts his head on yours, whispering lowly to you, concern and relief filling throughout his body. 

“I got yeh peaches, don’ worry now.” He can feel how tight you’re gripping him and he uses his non-ringed hand to smooth the hair on your head. “Love you so much. M’here and m’never leavin’ yeh okay?” 

Each sob is a punch to his chest, but he’s glad you’re not alone, he’s glad you let him in, and most of all, he’s glad he’s here to hold you when your shoulders weaken from the oncoming storm. 

And as your tears finally decease into small hiccups, your left cheek lands on his shoulders as your swollen eyes gaze towards the TV series playing softly in front of you. Harry’s hand is rubbing soothingly against your back before it falters as relevant words echo from the late night re-run.

“Only in darkness are we revealed. Goodness is not goodness that seeks advantage. Good is good in the final hour. In the deepest pit, without hope, without witness, without reward.”