#i haven’t been separated from haz for this long in years and it’s hard

[wri0thesley]

hello friends can i. can i ask for a little validation tonight. can you tell me that my writing is okay and you like having me around. i am not having a great one and i. yeah.

[petersasteria]

Michael Jackson (III) - Haz Osterfield

Osterfield || Main || Taglist

Requested? Nah.

1,497 words

Based on Michael Jackson quotes. The one in bold is the quote.

RIP Michael 🤍

* * * *

“I honestly don't know why I agreed to do this.” You chuckled awkwardly as you sat across from Harrison. You haven’t seen him in a while, actually. Sure, you’ve known about his success, but you haven’t seen him in nearly four years. You really didn’t expect to be making a video with him during CoVID season. Safety precautions were taken, of course.

He gave you a small smile and you waved at him. Harry decided to create a small series on his YouTube channel called “Things I Never Asked You” and you and Harrison were the stars of his first episode. Harry lied to you and said that he wanted you to star in a short film and you felt betrayed when you got there. Harrison knew about the project and he was the one who suggested that you and him could do the first episode.

You didn't have the heart to say no to Harry because you knew he worked hard. It was only fair to be a team player and do your part. That's why you're here now.

When you arrived, Harry made you and Harrison go into separate rooms and write down questions you never got to ask on index cards. So when you sat down, you had your index cards on your lap as he was reading his.

“Ready?” Harry asked from behind the camera and both of you gave him a thumbs up. Tom was also there, watching.

Harry signalled that the camera was rolling and both of you introduced yourselves and said the name of the series.

“Who’ll go first?” You asked with a shy chuckle. “I know nothing.”

“I’ll go first.” Harrison volunteered and you nodded. Your hands were sweating and your heart was beating fast. You were really nervous.

“I’ll start off easy, don’t worry.” Harrison chuckled. “How’s life?”

You smiled, “Life is great, actually. I’ve been writing songs and I’m writing a picture book for children which is one of my dreams and I’m really glad it’s happening.”

“I’m happy for you.” He said genuinely and you said a small ‘thank you’. You looked at him and said, “My turn: how’s your love life?”

“My love life is great! She’s amazing and she’s sweet.” He answered and you nodded. “I know you well enough to know that there’s a follow up question.” He chuckled lightly and you smiled.

“You’re right, Osterfield.” You said softly with a small smile. “Follow up question: Is she the one you’ve been looking for?”

You stared at each other for a while knowing that, that was his reason for breaking up with you. He said that he realized you weren’t the one he’s been looking for. You just wanted to ask him if he finally found it.

He nodded, “Yes, I think so. We haven’t been together that long, but I can see our relationship progressing.”

You didn’t say anything else. He cleared his throat, “How do you feel whenever you see my face on social media knowing that we had history together?”

“Oof, wow. Um, I’m happy because I’m proud of you. I’m immensely proud of you. But at the same time, I’m also really sad because I end up reminiscing.” You told him.

“And because I got to ask two questions a while ago, you can ask another one.” You added. “It’s only fair.”

“Alright. Have you been able to move on properly?” He asked and you didn’t trust your voice to speak. You just shook your head and he nodded. That was enough for him.

“Did you ever miss me after our breakup?” You asked.

“I did. We were together for a long time and I can’t really forget about you after being with you for so long. But as days went by, I didn’t miss you anymore. You were just a memory, a good memory.” He said in honesty.

“I’m the one who’s heartbroken because of all these questions.” Tom whispered to Harry.

“Same.” Harry whispered back.

“Did you ever write a song about me?” Harrison asked and you nodded.

“My first album is all for you and so is my second album. All my past albums are all about you. The songs in each album are my love letters to you. The last album I wrote about you is my breakup album.” You told him.

“Yeah, I know that album. That album’s design had ‘us’ written all over it. I love the songs, though.” Harrison said.

“Thank you.” You gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Did you ever really love me?”

“How could you ask me that question? Of course, I loved you. Don’t ever doubt that.”

“You loved me, but you didn't love me enough to work it out. Okay, so when did you decide that I wasn’t enough?” Tears were threatening to stream down your face as you desperately tried not to cry.

“Y/N-” He said sadly, but you were waiting for him to answer. “I guess I just didn’t feel it anymore. It’s like everything that happened between us was a dream and then I finally woke up. I woke up and realized that you weren’t meant for me.”

You nodded and sighed.

“Am I the reason why you’re not seeing anyone?” He asked.

“Yeah.” You said, your voice cracking.

“Am I the reason why you’re crying?” He asked again.

“Yeah.” You sniffed. “Was there something wrong with me that made you leave?”

“No. You’re fine just as you are. Don’t change for anyone, alright?” He said and you nodded, crying.

“We made it work, right? At some point?” You asked and he nodded.

“We did.” He nodded. It was silent between the two of you before he said, “You know that I’ve always wanted you to be happy. Are you happy?”

You stared at him and bit your lip to keep yourself from sobbing. You shook your head and said, "I'm not, but I will be at some point. That point isn't now."

"Did you meet her when we were together? If so, is that why you really left?" You couldn't help, but ask. "When you said your last 'I love you' to me, did you mean it?"

"Yes, I met her when we were together. That's not the rea— I guess that's part of why I left. And," He looked at you with sad eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it anymore."

The whole point was to take turns in answering questions back and forth, but you wanted so many questions answered that you just kept going. Harrison let you, though. He broke your heart and you deserved to be heard.

"Then why did you keep telling me you love me, when you liked someone else?" You asked sadly.

"I don't know. I'm sorry." Harrison sighed as he looked at you. It was then that he realized that he broke you. "If it makes you feel better, we didn't get together quickly. In fact, we got together a few months ago."

You gave him a look and so did Harry and Tom from behind the camera. It sounded insensitive and Harrison mouthed 'sorry' and you wiped your tears.

"What will I do to make you forgive me?" He asked.

You thought about it for a while and said, "Whatever you do won't benefit me anymore. I guess just— just love her the way you didn't love me. Give her all the love you failed to give me and make sure you mean every 'I love you'. I'll be the happiest."

Harrison gave you a small smile. He admired that you still wished the best for him despite the fact that he left you out in the cold.

"I know that giving all my love to her will make you the happiest, but what will make you happy again? The permanent kind of happiness."

"When I finally get over you and when I meet someone who isn't you; someone better than you." You answered and he nodded.

"That's all I have to ask. Thank you for doing this, Y/N." Harrison said softly.

"You're welcome. Thank you too." You gave him a tight-lipped smile as you wiped the tears on your cheeks.

Harry decided it was time to end it, so he did. He can just make up an outro when he edits. "That's a wrap." Harry said.

You turned to him and nodded. You got up from your seat and removed the mic from yourself before giving it to Harry. "Thank you for having me." You shook his hand and waved at Tom.

You left the place and never looked back. It hurt too much.

A month later, you got a bouquet of flowers on your birthday and a basket of cookies. It was from Harrison and it had a note that said:

Hi, Y/N! Happy Birthday!

I would never forget your special day. Consider this a peace offering and I truly am sorry. Have fun today. You deserve it x

-Haz

* * * *

𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐇𝐀𝐙 𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @blueleatherbag @cocoamoonmalfoy @thatforgottenangel @parkerpeter24 @turtoix @givebuckyhisplumsnow @hotforharrison @chewymoustachio @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @yourstrulyamour @pearce14 @juliediggory @lharrietg @thevelvetseries @buckymylove @moonlight-onyx @angelsgrxzer @more-like-reyna @caitsymichelle13 @aayaissaa @wannabemobwife @sunwardsss @hollandbroz-n-haz

𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @holland-styles @trustfundparker @alinastarkrovs @felicityparkers @hufflepuffprincess24 @tommysparker @justasmisunderstoodasloki @quaksonhehe @call-me-baby-gir1 @itstaskeen @theonly1outof-a-billion @lost-in-the-stars03 @justafangirlduh @piscesparker @speedymaximoff @miraclesoflove @lexirv @blairscott @getbywithasmile @pqrkerr @lavender-writer @blackbat2020 @hoodpankow @bi-lmg @emmastarz @moonchild-s-blog @itszulli

[duskholland]

If You Feel The Same | Harrison Osterfield

summary ↠ six months ago, you said goodbye to your best friend Harrison as he left to travel the world. now he’s back, and you don’t really know how to act. 

word count ↠ 3.7k

warnings ↠ drinking, swearing, bit of a steamy kiss

a/n ↠ I was intending to write a birthday fic for Harrison, but I couldn’t shake this idea out of my head, so instead you get a friends-turned-lovers non-birthday fic. lol. I haven’t written much for Harrison before but...I love him? and I really like how this turned out, so I hope you enjoy it too! please let me know if you have any thoughts :)

masterlist

There’s an atmosphere of comfortable warmth inside the pub tonight. You’re sitting with your thighs pressing against the slightly sticky booth, index finger slowly trailing around the rim of your half-drunk pint, and you’re glad for the background noises. You focus on the distant laughs and chatter coming from the other patrons, trying to relax as you wait. You’re the first one here, the others all running late, so you hadn’t hesitated to grab a beer and neck it fast. You feel so drawn in and anxious that you’re finding it hard to sit still, the beer taking the edge off, but not easing you enough. Every time the door swings open and you’re hit by a waft of freezing London air, you feel your hackles rise in anticipation. You’re absolutely shitting it, and whilst you know it’s uncalled for, the longer you have to wait, the more nervous you become.

You’ve made it to your second pint when you’re finally joined by your friends. The door swings open, and you recognise the four figures that walk in immediately, regardless of the fact that they’re all bundled up in an assortment of heavy jackets and woollen scarves. You raise a hand and Sam sees you first, pointing over to your table before walking across the pub, a large smile on his face.

“Y/N!” He greets, sliding into the booth beside you and pulling you into a hug. “Long time no see, eh?”

You laugh, your nerves vanishing as you look at your friend fondly. “I saw you two days ago, Sam,” you remind him, nudging his side discreetly.

“Still.” His eyes shift to your glass, then back to you. “Already getting on it?”

Your lips pull into a guilty grin. “Have to keep the nerves at bay somehow,” you murmur, earning a slightly disapproving smile from Sam. Before he can chime in with something unhelpful, you’re joined at the booth by his brothers Tom and Harry, and Harrison.

“Stop hogging her, dick,” Harry says, glaring playfully at his twin. “Some of us haven’t seen Y/N in six months.”

“Well maybe if some of you bothered to come home and visit us more often, this wouldn’t be a problem,” Sam chides, a playful edge to his voice. He stands from the booth and offers you a hand, pulling you up with him. You wobble to your feet, your head momentarily clouding over as you feel a little tipsy, all of a sudden, but you’re pulled back to earth as Harry hugs you tightly, his curly hair brushing against your neck. You can’t help but smile widely, your heart settling a little happier in your chest now you’re so near your friends again.

You’ve been best friends with Harry and Sam since you were all kids and you’d been assigned to the same table in primary school. Your relationship with them meant you’d quickly settled into an easy friendship with their older brother Tom, and his best friend, Harrison. Through it all - auditions, exams, the pains of growing up - you’d stuck it out together, and you’re proud to call the four guys standing around you your best friends. It doesn’t matter that three of them have just spent six months travelling around the world with Tom’s job, leaving behind you and Sam, because now you’re back together, finally able to sit down in your favourite pub, and you know everything will go back to normal.

Well… maybe not everything.

As Tom releases you from his arms and sits in the booth with Harry and Sam, you’re left standing in front of Harrison. Your gaze nervously wanders everywhere but his face, taking in his long, fitted coat and the silver signet ring that glints off his finger. He seems to have filled out over the past months, his shoulders wider and his stature fuller, and you find yourself concluding that he must have spent a considerable time in the gym.

By the time your eyes land on his face, you’ve got your lower lip pulled between your teeth, your breathing shallow as you try to calm down your racing heart. It’s like a thousand different emotions pass between you as you meet his icy blue eyes, his gaze shifting from one of amusement to a softer, more intense stare. His lips quirk into a warm smile and he opens his arms invitingly, and any plan you’d had to keep your distance goes straight out of the window as you collapse into his warm embrace.

“Haz,” you mutter, sighing contentedly as he holds you close. It doesn’t matter that his coat is covered in cool raindrops, nor that you know you’ve got three sets of prying eyes fixed on your entwined figures - all you can think of is Harrison. Harrison with his hands on your waist and his hot breath fanning over your forehead, and the scent of his rich, husky cologne.

“I missed you,” Harrison says, punctuating each of his slow words with a soft kiss to your forehead. The feeling of his lips on your skin dredges up all the memories you’d spent six months burying, and despite feeling so utterly comfortable with your face pressed up against his front, you force yourself to pull back.

You play with your fingers as you look at your friend carefully, his gaze mimicking yours. “Can’t believe it’s been six months,” you find yourself saying, earning a nod of agreement from the man. “You look good.”

He quirks an eyebrow, his lips twisting into a cocky smirk. “You too.”

Before your exchange can continue, you feel someone poke you, and crane your neck back to see Sam looking at you, a knowing smile on his face. “Can you guys go get the first round?”

“I’ve already got-” You break off as you see Tom draining the final drops of beer from your previously-full glass. “Knobhead,” you comment, earning a laugh from the man. “Been back two minutes and you’re already ruining my life.”

Tom just shrugs and pulls out his wallet. He slides you the plastic card and you raise an eyebrow. “Bigshot actor now, eh?” You tease, pocketing the card.

“Shut up,” he replies, cheeks tinting a healthy pink. “Harry’s getting the next round.”

As the table dissolves into a fit of squabbles, you feel Harrison’s arm go around your shoulders. You lean into his touch, smiling shyly to yourself as he leads you up and towards the bar. His hand slips down until he’s holding your waist, and it feels so perfect having his fingers curled up around your side that it makes you frown as you reach the bar and he separates from you. As you order the drinks, you exchange a few light words, his eyes on yours, his touch returning every few seconds as he nudges at your shoulder or pushes your hair from your face, and it’s so comfortable and familiar that it makes your heart twitch painfully every time he moves away.

The hours slowly slip away, spent away at the booth in the corner of the pub. Tom keeps you entertained as he recounts a few of his most bizarre tales from set, Harry or Harrison jumping in to add a few forgotten details every once in a while. Harrison’s sat beside you, his jacket hanging over the back of the booth, his hand resting comfortably on your knee. The touch keeps your mind anchored, stops you from spinning away in your tipsy thoughts as the temptation to recall that night keeps growing, growing. It isn’t until Harrison mutters a loud ‘is that what you really want’ to Tom that you succumb, and the memory passes behind your eyelids before you can stop it.

[-----]

It’s a hot August night. Suitcases are precariously stacked in the porch of Tom and Harrison’s house and you have to maneuver carefully to avoid pushing anything over as you walk inside. Music throbs through the house, growing louder as you push through groups of tipsy people, some you recognise, others you don’t. It’s a going away party, screams one of the banners that twirls up the staircase, and you feel your mood dampen as you’re reminded - again - that tomorrow, Tom, Harry and Harrison will be jetting away. You’ve seen their schedule, and you know there’s no way you’ll be able to get time off from uni, so this is the last night you’ll have together before they return. The last night you’ll have with him.

You spot Harrison across the room, his gaze already on you. It makes you smile shyly, your feet taking you off towards him before your mind has time to catch up. He excuses himself from his conversation before meeting you in the middle of the floor, his lips catching your cheek as he hugs you close.

“You look sad,” he comments immediately. You pull back from the hug and his hands slip to hold your waist, a bittersweet smile on your face.

“I am sad,” you admit, sucking on your lower lip as you ponder your words. “I’ll miss you a lot, Haz.” And you know you really will. You’ve never been away from any of the guys for as long as six months before, and Harrison has always lived a little closer to your heart than any of the others. And recently… Well, recently, maybe things between you have been getting a little more intense. Maybe sometimes he hugs you randomly, and sometimes you snuggle into his chest during film nights, and sometimes you let your fingers trace through his shaggy curls. Maybe you’ve grown fond of him - fonder than you should, given he’s been one of your best friends for years.

“I’ll miss you too, Y/N,” he says, eyes falling downcast. One of his hands shifts from your waist and tangles with yours, the wide pad of his thumb stroking over the back of your hand softly. “I… uh, I really-”

A sudden roll of laughter from a group beside you breaks his words, and you have to swallow back your irritation as you use your grip on his hand to pull him away from the noisy living room. Harrison follows you up the stairs, his arm brushing against yours as you reach the top and pull him into his room, the hubbub of the party below fading away until it’s just you and him, alone, in his messy bedroom.

“Sorry,” you say suddenly, realising what it must look like. “I couldn’t hear you down there.”

He laughs, the sound wonderful and deep and beautiful. He swings your joined hands together, bringing a grin to your face. “‘S okay. Don’t know why Tom invited so many people. You’re the only one I wanted to see before we left,” he says cryptically.

“Don’t let Sam hear you say that,” you tease.

“Well, Sam’s different.”

“How?”

“He’s… Sam.”

“And I’m Y/N?”

Harrison rolls his eyes, exasperation filtering out over his face as he sighs. “No. I mean, yes, but…” He steps nearer, the air between you suddenly shifting, darkening. “I don’t feel the same for you that I do for Sam, alright?”

Your eyebrows arch up your forehead. “So what exactly do you feel for me then, Haz?”

His tongue slips from his mouth, dancing dangerously over his lower lip as he brings his free hand up to your face, cupping your cheek delicately. Your heart is in your throat as his inviting, blue eyes peer into yours, an expression of curiosity fixed to the lines of his handsome face. You give him a small incline of a nod, and then his lips softly nudge against yours, meeting in a tentative burn of passion that you’ve been dreaming about for months.

It’s weird, to be kissing Harrison. It feels so perfect that it’s almost too good to be true. As you kiss him back, it grows in fervour, your hands looping up around his neck as you fist his curls in your fingers, letting his roam over your body. He holds you so firmly that it makes you feel like you're his, and if you could bask in that feeling forever, you know you would. Fuck, you’re so in love with him…

It gets heated quickly. One moment you’re standing in the centre of the room, swaying in his hold, the next you’re pushing him down on the bed and you’re straddling his lap. His hands dig into your waist, slipping up beneath your shirt and tracing over the hot skin of your back, your own fingers twirling around his necklace as you pant into his mouth. The whole situation is so dizzying and overwhelming that you have to take a break, and as you pull away from his mouth, you feel a sense of regret. He notices your hesitation, hands stilling and moving back to your waist, and he looks at you carefully. “What’s going on up there?” Harrison asks, bringing one, gentle finger up to tap at your forehead.

“You’re such an asshole,” you find yourself saying, tears suddenly pricking at your eyes. You push at his chest, anger replacing everything else. “You- I- You wait until the night before you’re flying away to do this?!”

Harrison’s face falls, guilt seizing his features. “I didn’t know…”

“Bullshit.” You’re angry now, your heart pulsing painfully. As you stare at your best friend, you bring your hands up and clench them into fists. “You knew how I felt.”

“And you knew how I felt,” he counters, his face irritated. “You waited as well, Y/N,” he says. “Don’t put this all on me.”

Your eyes screw shut as your nails dig into the skin of your palms, your breathing gradually slowing as his fingers trace softly across your waist. “I just…” You pause, finally unclenching your fists and dropping your forehead so it’s resting on his shoulder comfortably. He pulls you closer, his head burying in your hair. “You’re my best friend, Haz? And I… We can’t lose this. Not now. Maybe if you weren’t going away tomorrow, things would be different, but you are.”

With careful hands, Harrison pries you away from his chest until he can meet your eyes, his blue irises twinkling sadly. “Is that what you really want?”

You sigh, shrugging helplessly. “There’s not really an alternative, Haz,” you say. “Just… Go off and enjoy the world, alright? I’ll still be here when you come back. And if you- if you fall in love with someone else whilst you’re away, that’s fine. I’ll get over it.”

“What if you fall in love with someone whilst I’m gone?”

“I won’t,” you promise. You pick up his hand and kiss his knuckles softly, meeting his eyes nervously. “I wouldn’t be able to do that, I…” I love you.

Harrison sighs, his face conflicted and distraught, but he nods his head slowly. “I’ll come back to you,” he says sweetly. He leaves a very quick, very light kiss on your lips, and it makes your heart pang. “I love-”

You kiss him firmly, fingers grabbing at the front of his shirt. You mumble against his lips a sad, “I know, me too,” and then you pull back and climb up from his lap, fixing your hair quickly. “We should go join the party. They’ll be wondering where we are.”

Harrison nods softly, his demeanour deflated, but when you reach to grab his hand, his eyes regain some of their sparkle. “It’s only six months,” he says, trying to convince himself. “How much can change in six months?”

Everything, you want to say. Everything could change. But instead, you give him a shrug and lead him out of his bedroom, the moment behind you, the imprint of his lips against yours hanging over your mind.

[-----]

Maybe you’d been a coward. For the time he’d been away, you’d caught yourself berating your own actions, analysing them, dissecting them, even sometimes regretting them. But you know that the timing wasn’t right. What were you supposed to do? Sleep with him and then immediately say goodbye? That would have been worse than waiting on tenterhooks for six months, waiting to see if he’d find someone else, waiting on him to come back. It was like your life was on pause for those long months, only truly moving when you were texting him or calling him. It was long, and hard, and heartbreaking. But was it worth it?

You end up in the club.

It’s 2am and the room is spinning. Pulsing strobes and banging music shake your body, and you’re absolutely steaming as you enjoy yourself on the dancefloor. Harry’s already gone - disappeared with his arm around a girl, and you know Sam and Tom are flagging fast. The only one who’s managed to keep up with you, as always, is Harrison, and he’s got his hot hands pressing into your waist as you dance up against him.

He’s intoxicating. With his lips wandering up and down your neck, you find yourself reaching back and grabbing fistfuls of his hair, keeping him close, longing for him. Your bodies are pressed so tightly together that you can feel every single bump, every detail of his figure, and you’ve missed it so much.

“We’ve got a uber!” You’re pulled from your thoughts and blink a few times, Sam’s figure suddenly appearing in front of you. Harrison promptly stops his movements, his hands still holding your hips, and both of you lean nearer to the boy to hear him. “Me and Tom are going home. Do you want to come with us?” Sam yells, forehead sweaty. His eyes flicker down to where Harrison’s holding your waist, his eyes lighting up mischievously.

“No,” Harrison says immediately. Then he falters, glancing at you. “I mean, we can. I don’t mind.”

Your lips drift into a lazy smirk. “I live five minutes away, Sam. It’s fine. Haz can just stay with me, or go back later.”

His grip tightens on your waist. “Well, I’m not going to let you walk back by yourself,” Harrison says, voice cutting through the banging tunes.

Sam looks between you both. “Fine, we’ll leave you both here,” he says finally. Then his eyes narrow and he reaches out to poke your arm, then Harrison’s. “Be safe, alright?”

Sam and Tom have barely left the club before Harrison’s spinning you in his arms, moving you around to face him. His pale face is flushed a deep red, scattered rays of bright reds and blues shifting over his features as the music pounds. Your eyes connect, and the breath leaves your lungs as you just...look. You look at him hard, eyes examining every part of his face, retracing the features so familiar that you’ve spent nights looking at them behind your eyelids. His nose, his cupid’s bow, his lips. God, you could spend hours just looking at his lips.

He leans in, mouth brushing at your ear. “Let’s go home, yeah?” He reaches down and tangles your fingers together, and your heart beats weakly in your chest as you nod.

The walk back takes longer than five minutes, mainly because the cold crisp air brings your tipsiness to the forefront of your mind. You’re laughing, and Harrison’s saying something totally absurd, and then you’re both clinging to one another, bending over in peals of laughter as tears prick your eyes. You’re sure what he’s saying isn’t even funny, but in the moment, so overcome with different emotions and liqueurs, Harrison may as well be the funniest man in the world. When you eventually stumble back to your flat, Harrison has to hold your fingers and help you guide the key into the lock, setting you off again. You’re still laughing as he slides the lock shut behind you, the sound only puttering off into light giggles as you fall back on your bed, exhausted.

It’s been a rollercoaster, seeing him again, and feeling all those old emotions spring forward and seize hold of you. He’s still so fucking attractive, even now with his blond curls sticking to his sweaty forehead and his blue eyes tired and slightly bloodshot. He’s still utterly breathtaking as he lies down beside you, body sinking into the mattress as he pulls you close, guiding you onto your side so you’re cuddling him, your head on his chest. He still makes you feel weak as his lips drag over your hairline, and you cling to him because you’re terrified to let him go again.

“You meet anyone while I was away?” He says, finally addressing the elephant in the room. You shift slightly, craning your neck up as you look up at him, meeting his nervous gaze.

“Of course not,” you reply immediately, heart turning at the thought. “Did… Did you?”

He shakes his head, fluffy curls resting against your pillows. “Got everything I need right here.”

And you just melt.

Moving slowly, you shift so you’re laying on top of him. With tentative and measured movements, you crawl up his chest until your face is hanging above him, giving you the perfect view. His eyes meet yours, his small smile growing larger as you drag your lips over his cheek, leaving a scattered trail of kisses up and over his cheekbone, across his forehead, down over his other cheek, and then ending with a final kiss on his nose. Your mouth hovers over his lips as his hot breath fans over your face, and then his hands find your sides and he’s pulling you in.

You kiss, and immediately you know that six months apart was far too long, because you’d forgotten how magical it felt to be kissing your best friend. His hands slipping up, over the front of your dress, up into your hair, pulling you as close as possible as you kiss him firmly, lovingly. His lips part and your tongues dance together, and he tastes like beer but it’s okay because you do too. He’s utterly intoxicating, and as he cradles you in his strong arms, you give yourself over completely.

“I’m yours,” you mumble against his mouth. “I fucking love you, Harrison.”

Between kisses, he says, “I love you too,” and the words bring tears to your eyes.

“Never leave me again,” you say, voice wobbling. You stop kissing him, just so you can pull back and look at the face you’ve fallen so deeply in love with.

“I won’t,” he says. He catches your lips in a soft, warm kiss, and you realise that his mouth feels a little like coming home. “I promise.”

[-----]

any feedback?

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[detroitbydark]

Werewolf!Haz x Reader

Word count: 2100+

Summary: When a random encounter puts the possibility of love on Harrison’s plate will he take it or will a supernatural problem leave you both with broken hearts.

Warnings: Smut in future chapters?

(Huge thank you and shout out to @hazssouthernbelle for the beautiful mood board)

A/N: I really hate posting something so long without a cut. Apologizing in advance but my laptop is useless currently and I’m to impatient not to post this. Sorry, not sorry (but maybe just a little).

Moonbeams and Ridinghoods: Chapter 1

There was something profoundly relaxing about grocery shopping in the early hours of the morning, like a salve for frayed nerves it helped you relax when seeming nothing else could. Thanks to the advent of 24hr shops you could leave work looking like a hot mess and not only avoid the crowds, but also the looks your bedraggled appearance was bound to get. Minimal make-up, scrubs, and messy buns went hand in hand with working in the emergency room.

Your shift had run long. A nasty MVA had taken the better part of the night between coding the drunk that had caused it and stabilizing the passengers, it had been physically and emotionally taxing. The cries of the four year old boy who’d been secured in the backseat still rang in your ears. It was his blood that had gotten on your scrub top as you tried to calm him and pick glass out of his dark mop of hair. He was the reason you had a bottle of wine in the cart next to your microwave dinner. Also Probably the reason you couldn’t remember anything else you’d planned to pick up. At this point you were really just pushing the cart around to decompress because you knew there was no way you’d be getting to sleep anytime soon. You were not a fan of bringing work home with you but some things were harder to compartmentalize than others.

A random container of pumpkin spice coffee creamer finds its way into your cart settling next to the bottle of wine. Twas the season for all things PSL, being condemned to basic bitchhood be damned. You tuck your hands into the sleeves of the lucky red hoodie you’ve had since nursing school. The overly long cuffs cover everything but the pink lacquered tips of your fingers. It helped you stave off some of the chill in the air and, more importantly, hid whatever stains your scrubs had picked up.

Leaning your forearms on the handhold of the cart you shuffle around, poking through the deli selection before heading back towards the butcher department. You roll to a stop behind a guy in grey sweats and trainers studying the selection as if preparing for a test. He’s hunched over a section of steaks, looking them over as he throws just about every other one he picks up in his cart.

He’s pretty. You know it even before you see his face. He’s put together well, his tight black t-shirt shows off a muscular set of shoulders and strong arms, while the sweats he’s wearing give you an excellent view of a really good looking ass. You’re almost not embarrassed when he turns to look at you. Almost. A shy smile crosses his face and you just know he caught you looking.

“‘Ello” He offers politely pushing his loaded cart forward just a little, allowing you peruse his leftovers. There honestly wasn’t a much left.

“Hungry?”

The question seems to catch him off guard, “Excuse me?”.

With an open hand you gesture toward the basket. “You may as well have just bought a whole steer.” You observe with a smile, “you doing Keto or paleo or something?”

His blonde head cocks to the side giving you a curious grin. He’s got beautiful blue eyes that crinkle at the corners as he smiles. It’s a really nice smile too and leaves butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

“Something like that.” He offers with a shrug as he straightens. “Not from around here are you?”

“It’s the accent, isn’t it?” Of course the American accent was the first thing he’d hear. “Or is it unheard of to question someone when they’ve bought an entire side of beef.”

“Can I say both?”

You can’t help but laugh.

“What brings you to London?” He continues.

“I’m doing contract work at the hospital.” You explain. He takes a step closer and you have to tip your chin to keep your eyes on his. The shyness from moments ago seems to be gone and the smile he offers you is one you wouldn’t hesitate to classify as “panty dropping”. It’s confident and entirely too appealing. You glance down at your hands, you can feel your cheeks warming and you fidget with the cuffs of your sleeves for a moment before you collect yourself and glance back up at him.

“I’m Harrison” he offers.

Your hand juts out and he takes his. his grip is firm as you tell him your name.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you y/n.” He chuckles but quickly apologizes, “sorry about that but with that on” he points to your hoodie, “you look more like little red riding hood.”

Leaning forward conspiratorially you can’t help the flirtatious tone in your voice. “Does that make you the big bad wolf?”

Harrison barks out a laugh. “Maybe so”. It’s an odd comment but you ignore it, choosing to focus on the pearly white teeth he’s flashing you.

You bite your tongue to keep from making a cheeky comment.

The pair of you meander slowly, side by side back toward the check out. You’d taken the long way, traveling up and down the isles. Harrison had added a few things to his cart and you had thought about a box or Lucky Charms but changed your mind last minute. “Won’t pair well with wine.” You’d explained when your grocery buddy had raised a brow.

It had been said by your parents that you’d never met a stranger and Harrison was no different. You enjoyed chatting with him as you walked around.

“This has been really nice.” You murmur as the self check out comes into view.

Harrison raises a brow in your direction.

“I mean, I haven’t really met anyone outside of work yet and it’s been kind of…” You trail off, embarrassed.

“Lonely?” You look up at him and are struck by something in his eyes, a certain understanding? It makes your chest tighten and your mouth go dry. You’re nothing but strangers but you feel the beginnings of a connection begin to weave themselves together. It’s crazy though, right? You laugh despite yourself. It was just work stress and lack of sleep. That was all. Harrison looks at you appraisingly as you each take a separate check out and start scanning your purchases.

“I think that sums it up pretty well.” You admit after a moment of silence. You’d left his question unanswered for so long that it takes him a moment to circle back to what you've been talking about. He hums his understanding as you swipe your card and take your meager bag. You watch him load four bags of his own up, much more full than you’d ever dare a plastic bag to take, certainly more than you’d attempt to carry in one go. Harrison loads then into the cart as if they weigh nothing.

“So...uh...it was nice talking to you.” You manage to work out with a smile.

“Think you already said that.” He teases as you roll your eyes. You both head through the sliding glass doors into the crisp air. It’s a cloudless night and the moon is glowing brightly.

“Nearly full.” You note looking up into the sky, missing the stars canceled out by the light pollution of the city.

“Two days.” He says agreeably. “Where are you parked. I’ll walk you to your car.”

Harrison’s eyes narrow as you shrug, “My place isn’t too far away. I’m good to walk.” You swear you hear a low rumble come from him before he speaks.

“M’not letting you walk home by yourself in the dark. Come on, I'm over here.” He says motioning to a sporty black coupe a row over.

“I appreciate the offer but I’m good really. I’m not about to inconvenience anyone.”

“Really, Little Red,” his voice holds a sternness that makes goosebumps rise along your arms, “the inconvenience would be having to follow you in the car while you walk. Not sure where you hail from but this is not somewhere pretty girls walk alone at night.” He crosses his arms over his chest and while you still feel like you’re being lectured you can’t help but admire the muscles in his forearms as they move. “You have two options, I give you a ride or I tail you the whole way.”

“You’re serious aren’t you?”

“Absolutely.” He confirms. His stern expression turns smug as you begin to walk toward the car.

“I swear to God, if you murder me I’m going to be so pissed.”

Harrison can’t believe what he’s hearing. “You’re fucking with me, yeah? That’s nearly 8 blocks away? And you were going to walk it?”

You shrug again from his passenger seat. The traffic lights clip by as you look out the window, Harrison watch the light illuminate and darken over your figure.

“I’d be fine.”

“You’d be mugged.” He corrects and you huff out a dark laugh. “I’m serious. Promise me you won’t attempt that.”

You turn in the passenger seat and he’s caught like a deer in the headlights in the warmth of your eyes. They sparkle with mischief and he finds he’s completely unable (or unwilling) to look away.

The scent of you is surrounding him in the closed quarters and he fights off the urge to inhale deeply and take the essence of you into his lungs. So close to a full moon Harrison found his senses, those instinctual parts of him became magnified. The scent of you stirred up a flurry of reactions he’d never had. Maybe that was why he’d kept close to you in the shop or why he had all but demanded you allow him to drive you home. He felt protective like he’d only ever felt for the rest of the pack. When he’d think about it later it was sure to confuse him but, for now, he let himself enjoy the nearness and the strange feelings.

“So does this mean you’re going to be my own personal Uber?” You tease lightly, biting at your lower lip in a way he has a hard time pulling his gaze away from.

“If it means you won’t be so reckless? Yes. A thousand times. I’ll program my number in your phone and everything.”

You’re still biting your lip as he swings into a parallel parking space in front of your flat. It wasn’t the worst part of town but it certainly could have been better. You thank him softly and turn to get out. He takes the opportunity with your back turned to pull that one deep breath he’s been dying to take, he can smell old blood dried on your clothes, the laundry soap you’d used, the soft scent of lavender from your shampoo, and underneath it all something that was so you he couldn’t put a name to it.

You’ve got one foot out the door before you turn back and jam your phone in his face. Harrison’s eyes widen as he stares at the unlocked contact screen.

“Don’t be a scaredy-cat.” You challenge “you said you’d do it.” He can see a faint blush on your cheeks as you push on with false bravado.

“I thought I was the big bad wolf.” It’s a bad joke and you don’t get it but he can’t help himself. Tom, Harry, Maybe even Tom’s girl, Emily, will find the humor in it when he tells them about it later.

“Prove it.” You challenge, looking tiny in that cherry red hoodie. “Don’t be a pussy.” You prod. It's about the cutest thing he’s seen in ages.

Fucking Yanks. An Abnormally friendly lot. Maybe not something he was used to but he really liked how you’d been the one to come up to him earlier. Usually this close to a change people tended to avoid him. You didn’t even seem to flinch and had even gone as far as to bat those pretty eyes at him. It was a nice change of pace.

Without a second hesitation he takes your phone and adds his own information, he barely takes his eyes off of you as he does and you hold his stare for a respectable few seconds before blushing harder and looking away.

Bloody cute.

He hands the cell back and you hit send, waiting until you hear his ring before disconnecting.

“Had to keep you honest.” You explain before climbing out of the car,bottle of wine sloshing in the small bag you carried. “Thanks for the ride, Harrison.”

Haz gives you a small wave and watches you till your in your door. You glance back over your shoulder before you go in and give him a small wave with the tips of your fingers. He can’t help the silly grin that crosses his face. Yeah, Tom was going to find this whole thing hilarious.

[panticwritten]

In-Between Collection #2 Scene 2

A Summons

Table of contents!

All of my writing!

What are the In-Between Collections?

This one happened sometime in the nebulous space that I was kind of pretending the Breaking Furnace daydream wasn’t happening lmao. I think it would have been around chapter 4.

Also, I’m gonna be 20 in two weeks, what is real life

Word count: 1241

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The Original June 22nd 2016

In less than a month in the real world, I’ve progressed years in the new Gravity Falls universe. I haven’t been able to find more than traces of Bill. I’m starting to think I might have to summon him to get him to show his face.

That’s a little hard to swing when I’m trying to convince Stanford not to drop out of Backupsmore. He’s so close to finishing his thesis, the whole thing will be ruined if he doesn’t get through it.

We need funding in Gravity Falls, after all. It’s hard enough to explain where I get my money as it is, but if I could suddenly fund our research it would bring up questions I can’t answer. I doubt it would go over well that I work for an organization that hired me to fuck with his life.

I kneel down to gather another armful of fallen debris. I might be able to get by with checks from the Scouts in the new universe, but I have to actually work in the real world. Preparing firebreaks is mind-numbing enough for me to be able to talk to Kane at the same time, however.

“I still don’t think you had to start so early.”

He keeps pace with me on my back and forth between the tree line and our brush piles. I don’t look at him. I’m not sure how long we’ve been working today. I’m starting to get a headache, and I’m not sure if it’s from the work itself or Kane’s voice.

“I knew he would get closed off later. The only other people he talks to without prompting are his parents and Fiddleford.” I clench my jaw and resist the temptation to fall back into the universe, back into the argument with Stanford. “These days I’m more of a sounding board than an actual person, I think.”

“Genuine affection?” Kane appears in front of me, head inclined. “That’s dangerous.”

I walk right through him.

“I don’t know how much about him I’ve changed just by being there,” I go on as if he never spoke. “But I would never be able to get close enough if I waited much longer.”

“Have you found your contact yet?”

I shake my head, just a little, even in the real world.

“I think he’s tipped his hat at me in the few chances I’ve had to sneak away to Gravity Falls, but—” I stop with a grunt, knelt down to tug a branch back into the road. “—I might have to risk opening my mind to him if I want him to talk to me.”

He makes a thoughtful sound, and I finally take the bait to step back into my full dreamscape. I keep half a mind on my job, but the two of us land back in the Cube to talk. I turn on my heel to face him.

“About time.”

He lounges against the wall with a thick envelope held out in offering. It doesn’t look like a job card, but he doesn’t have any other business to be bothering me with. I make no move to take it, so he holds it up to inspect it under the light.

“I don’t know the last time I had to deliver a summons.” He gives me a side-eye. “Especially to an F-Class Scout.”

I glower and hold a hand out for the envelope. He surprises me by actually handing it over.

“And where am I being summoned to?” I ask while I break the wax sealing it shut.

“The council.”

I pause with the thick paper halfway out of its sheath. I stare down at my hands with the momentary expectation for it to attack.

But, no, it’s just paper. A normal envelope carrying a letter on the kind of stationary I wish I could afford. It’s the kind of thing you’d expect to receive from an Ivy League college or a government official. It’s certainly fancier than the scrolls I normally send notes around the Cube in.

I’ve always gotten the feeling that the council hated me. I’ve only heard whispers, rumors of threats, from the group. I’ve met only one of the members, though I’m almost certain he’s not a good indication of what the council is like.

They’re the ones that hold our lists. They keep track of who they can use as leverage against individual Scouts. They watch us and decide what requires punishment in the form of making those lists shorter.

I manage to only hesitate a few seconds before diving in and reading the letter. It’s a full sheet of paper, but it only bears five words typed neatly in the center.

‘Come at your earliest convenience.’

I fold the paper and shove it back into the envelope. I look back to Kane, who watches me with narrowed eyes.

I won’t let him see that I’m nervous.

I won’t let him see anything.

“Take me to them.”

~-S-~

I try to avoid actually going to the Scouts’ main headquarters. Base. Lair. Whatever. It’s busy, everyone recognizes me, and I don’t like it. I want to keep my work with the Scouts and my identity in the Cube as separate as possible. I’m starting to think that won’t be possible.

I force myself not to look at anyone, at anything. I only take in a vague impression of gray in the halls, the rumble of voices only presenting as a low hum. A few faces jump out at me as more familiar than others, members of The Collective and others I wasn’t aware of being part of the clan.

If they try to talk to me, it doesn’t register.

I focus on Kane instead.

I thought he would lead and expect me to follow. He doesn’t. He walks barely a half-step ahead of me, so I have to watch him out of the corner of my eye. I’ve never seen a trainee walk beside their supervisor.

Then again, Kane hasn’t exactly been treating me like a trainee lately. All of it’s off, ever so slightly. I wouldn’t notice if I didn’t know him so well.

The smile, missing its mocking edge. His stride straight and clipped instead of fluid. Where’s the joke he always seems to be telling just by being present?

He’s normally so difficult to work with. I have to jump through hoops to get an answer. He twists and flips a problem until I come to the conclusion he wants me to, making it sound like it’s my idea. Distracts me when I’m trying to do my job or focus on the real world.

I didn’t have to convince him to hand over the summons.

I think back on it, to when he first offered me my job back. He was his normal self then. He stayed that way until I accepted it. Until I finished training. Until I started the job in Gravity Falls.

No.

He dropped it once. It was the second time I’d ever seen him let go of the persona. When he came to tell me about the new member of The Collective in the Breaking Furnace universe, he was serious.

Almost kind.

Since then, we’ve almost been on the same foot. He only hovers as much as the rules say he has to. He follows me on jobs, reminds me of deadlines, the bare minimum. Other than that, he stays out of my way with just a touch of snark.

“Here we are.”

His voice doesn’t reflect the change at all. Light, a laugh hidden beneath the words. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes when he stops in front of a wide door, though.

I reach for the door, but he grabs my arm. I freeze.

The last time he physically stopped me from doing something, I almost got myself killed. He would have been fine, he’s made of cement. I would have been fine eventually, would have woken up good as new. No one wants to die, though.

It stuck with me, I guess.

“Be careful,” he mutters. “They don’t take well to clever kids.”

He doesn’t let go right away, and that’s probably a good thing. I can’t move, though the desire to flee sears my blood. I shouldn’t have come. It would have been better to take my chances and ignore the council.

The thought flickers and dies when Kane releases me. He opens the door so I don’t have much choice but to walk in.

The door clicks shut behind me to leave me walking down a plush hall on my own. I have to squint in the low light, but there isn’t much to see. A crimson carpet and bare cream walls leading up to a door set at the end of the passage, that’s it.

Dark, warm, red. I hate the cliche of walking down a lion’s throat, but come on. Such a straight, plain hall leaves no room for surprises. It also gives me nowhere to hide if I lose my nerve.

But nothing happens. Nothing peels from the walls on the attack. No shadows move. The big, bad, tongue of a floor doesn’t constrict and drag me into the depths. I reach the luxurious door wound like a spring, but otherwise unharmed.

The room it spits me out in leaves me blind and uneasy. I pause when the door closes, frozen in place. My ears strain, panic pushing me to survey what I can how I can. I’m too aware of everything I’ve heard of the council to push down the fear clawing up my throat.

To believe the silence.

Families going missing. Friends put in the hospital. Children recruited. Punishments, all of it, against disobedient workers. Why would they call me here? If I did something wrong, why would they call for me instead of striking a name?

It occurs to me that I may have been looking at this wrong.

How many lists am I on?

I heard D joined the Scouts just days after I took Kane’s job offer. Half the Cube must be on his with how many strays he picks up. Then there’s the members of The Collective I saw on the way in. Haz, Jezebeth, who knows how many others? Is it too much to hope that they don’t care enough for me to be on theirs’?

I’m not the most rebellious out of us all. If Haz ignores an order or Jezebeth mouths off, could I be a target? If D refuses to hurt someone? If Gray’s out there, she vanishes at the drop of a hat. If it’s decided she needs incentive to stay here, am I on her list?

I know I could take out the council if I wanted to. I could level the entire base, leave a hole in the Cube so deep nothing could crawl out of it. It could be over, the lists and the jobs and the orders.

But I can’t—more accurately, I won’t.

I’ve been hasty before and had it come back to bite me. Destroyed Tchaikovsky’s original compound not long after I left, ended up with the man himself on my doorstep because I convinced myself he was gone.

If that happens with the Scouts, worse will happen than a single nightmare haunting me. I’ve made death too temporary here. No matter what I want, they would come back.

No.

I have to find out what they want like a good little soldier.

I take a miraculously steady breath and unclench my hands. I didn’t realize I’d curled them in so tight. I focus on the sting and imagine the half-moon impressions on my palm when I step out into the dark.

I don’t know if they’ve been watching me—I’m not sure if they could, it’s so dark—but a light flicks on before I take more than a few steps. Before my bearings can become more mixed up than they already are. Before I can trip up the stairs to the raised platform illuminated in the spotlight just in front of me.

I manage not to hesitate to climb onto the circular platform and settle in the center. The dramatics of the whole thing make it feel so staged it’s almost easy to pretend it’s all for show.

Just another performance.

I can do that.

I hold my head high to slide my gaze over the seven figures seated above me. I work to keep myself from showing even a flicker of the defiance or fear I feel, but I know better than to think I fully succeed. I’ve faced worse than the council, but I’ve cracked at less.

I probably should have put on my uniform before coming here, though I haven’t touched it once since receiving it. It might make me seem more conforming. Less like I’m spitting in their face just by existing.

At first glance the council members appear identical. Their white hoods block what little of the light focused on me hitting them, fabric masks cover what the hood doesn’t. Unlike the standard Scout uniform, aside from the arrogance of being white while the rest of us need the black uniforms to keep from being seen, their sleeves cover their arms, snug against the seams of their shorter gloves.

The longer I stand here in silence, though, the more I see.

The hood of the second to the right bulges, the telltale sign of horns or too much hair hidden underneath. Their mirror has a snout, their mask fitted to compensate. A shadow looms behind the center chair, and it takes me a second to recognize them as wings. On the far left, red eyes gleam through the shadows of the hood.

Devon.

I don’t linger on him, wary of revealing I know the guy. I doubt that would help either of us out any.

My chest hurts, the anxiety now physically painful. I don’t know what they’re waiting for. Am I supposed to say something? Am I supposed to suffer and wait? I can’t make a wrong move here.

I might be hot shit in the Cube, but this isn’t my territory. I have too much history of disobedience, too much power. I could sway half of this universe against them if I tried, they know I could walk out of here and unmake them with barely a thought.

But they also know I don’t enjoy ruining the ending of a good story.

And that’s the whole reason I’m here, isn’t it?

So I wait, hands at my sides, obedient. I won’t give them any reason to believe I’m a threat. They’re just as good at setting hidden plots in motions as I am.

“Perry.”

I incline my head rather than speak aloud. I don’t know if I’d be able to hide my surprise at Devon being the one to address me first.

“You have shown remarkable ability, considering how long you were—” he pauses and the others hiss a breath on cue. “—away.”

Do they rehearse these things?

“It’s as if you never left,” he purrs. “Aside from the rebellious attitude you seem to have shed.”

Rebellious attitude.

I lift my head, careful not to move too fast, and turn my eyes on Devon.

I’ve met him once, not long before I ‘went away.’ He was cold and completely ignored me until Kane left the room. His gaze felt like it could read everything about me, but all I could do was glare at him like the little shit I was when I was eight.

I can’t remember what he said, when he finally spoke to me, but it confused me. Something about Kane. I can almost find the shape of the words, but they’ve been lost to time.

The figure in the center chair shifts. Their wings catch the light, though not enough for me to really see them. It would be too easy to identify them if I did, I suppose.

“Your supervisor has hinted that your current classification is restricting both your efficiency and improvement.” The winged council member’s voice snakes through the room, high and smooth. Unfamiliar. “Knowing this, your council has seen fit to elevate you to your previous status.”

I raise my brows, but still say nothing. This isn’t what I expected. Not only am I not being threatened, I’m being promoted? Skipping a classification?

“Your talents are wasted in F-Class—see that you continue to impress.”

Ah, there’s the threat.

“Do you require any clarifications or reminders of what returning to D-Class will require of you?” a thin wheeze asks from the far right. “It has been several years, after all.”

I hesitate.

I remember how it works. My supervisor will fill my PDA with pre-screened jobs for me to choose from instead of handpicking them for me. I have a quota, a balance between jobs of different sizes, that I’m expected to fill. He doesn’t have to shadow me. He technically doesn’t have to contact me at all unless I’m behind, but expecting Kane to leave me alone is laughable.

This is highly unusual.

Both times I was promoted as a kid, Kane walked in and announced it by throwing me an official description of my new responsibilities and a new PDA equipped for them. As far as I know, the council doesn’t do this. This isn’t how this works.

But Kane warned me about being clever. What would they consider cheek? Would asking why they decided to give me the news be presumptuous? Would asking any question be ruled as another strike against me?

In the end, I ask when I’ll be getting my D-Class PDA. The one in my pocket will be useless in my new role.

The winged council member’s face mask strains in a smile, and I can’t help the feeling they’re laughing at me. I don’t move, sure that if I do I won’t be leaving this room.

“It was delivered to your supervisor moments ago,” they say. “You’d better go get it.”

It would be hard to miss a dismissal as pointed as that.

I dip my head in a nod, touch my left hand to my right shoulder in a hasty salute, and turn on my heel. It takes all of my self control not to run.

When I open the door to leave the room, I step out back in the fresh air of forest instead of the terrible hall. A handful of sticks falls from my hand, and I have to re-orient myself. The taste of fear still sticky in my throat, the dreamscape a thick web clinging to my skin.

I’ll have to deal with that later. I have to get the PDA from Kane. I have to sort through the terror keeping me from scooping up sticks with any kind of efficiency. I have to decide if the satisfaction at a promotion makes me a bad person or not.

Leaving a dream is always a lot harder than getting into it, and I’m starting to wonder if I ever really leave them anymore.

[spider-boi]

Last Christmas

Summary: Tom and Y/N haven’t seen or talked to each other since last Christmas and no one knows why.

AN: i’ve been lagging on my fics too so i decided to stop the christmas celebration schedule and just post what i can when i can hope you guys understand :) 

Italics = flashbacks

Tom Holland x Reader 

// Masterlist //

“Harrison, I don’t know…”

“Please, Y/N? Please come to the party. We’ve been doing this for years you can’t back out now.” Harrison pleaded.

“But…” I hesitated.

“I know. He’s going to be there but you don’t even have to talk to him.”

“It’s just going to hard to see him, okay? Y-you don’t get it.” My voice faltered.

“Look, I don’t know what went down between you and Tom last Christmas and I won’t ask, that’s between the two of you. But you are my best friend just as much as he is and I want you there. We haven’t seen each other in months and this is the only time we can all see each other.” My best friend lectured me.

That was true. With the nature of all our careers, it was hard for us to see each other but I wouldn’t deny that even the sound of his name made my heart hurt. I sighed. “You’re right. I’m gonna go.”

“Really? You’re the best, Y/N! I promise you won’t even have to interact with that div the whole night. I’ll see you tonight!” Harrison hung up on me after that. What had I gotten myself into?

The restaurant was busy. Apparently a lot of people decided to go have dinner on Christmas day too. My friends and I rented out a small function room at the back of the restaurant and had a small space just for our 20-something selves to get drunk on wine and laugh uncontrollably. The whole table laughed at something our friend had said and I buried my head into Tom’s shoulder.

“You okay there, love?” Tom whispered.

“Never been better.” I responded. Tom and I were...close. Best friends since childhood and going strong since but most people wouldn’t consider us just best friends. Even I didn’t. Tom placed a kiss on my temple and wrapped his arm around my shoulders, looking deep into my eyes.

“Oi, lovebirds!” Harrison called our attention. “Wanna get a room instead of forcing us to watch you give heart eyes to each other?”

“Fuck off, Haz!” Tom shouted across the table but never removed his arm from around me.

Much like last year, the restaurant was packed with families, friends, couples. All looking to celebrate the most wonderful time of the year. I stared at the glass panels of the door separating the function room from the rest of the restaurant. My friends were inside, already sipping wine and giggling. Then my eyes locked on him, as if on instinct. My breathing quickened and my eyes were slowly filling with tears. Suddenly, he turned and his eyes went wide at the sight of me. It was like time stopped and rewinded back to December 26th of last year.

Beside him, Harrison must have noticed that his best friend had frozen mid-conversation. I saw Harrison stand and approach me. “Hey, you made it. You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s good to see you again, Haz.” I smiled at my friend. He chuckled.

“It’s good to see you too, bub.” Harrison rubbed my head, messing up my hair to which I swatted his hand away. “Come on. Everyone’s waiting.”

We entered the room and my friends all cheered and gave me hugs. My girl friends complimented my new hair and my outfit while the guys jeered about how small I still was. Tom was hanging back and I felt him watching my every move. When the crowd around me dissipated, Tom walked over to me. Hands in his pockets, he stopped in front of me.

“Y/N.” His voice still sent butterflies to my stomach.

“Tom.”

“I-It’s good to see you.” Tom stuttered.

“You too.” I said, coldly. It was good to see him after a year of avoiding his face on every social media platform, newspaper, TV show. But I couldn’t let him know that.

“Woah, is it cold in here or have you two not warmed up to each other yet?” Our friend, Fox, commented on our unusual behavior. “What did you guys sleep each other and it didn’t work out?”

I blushed and swallowed hard. “No, Tom and I just drifted over the year so…”

“Well better get comfy again, lovebirds. No one likes killjoys on Christmas.” Fox put his arms around the two of us.

The conversations were slowly dying down and people had started to talk in pairs. Wine glasses were half-empty and plates were clean. There was a lazy atmosphere lingering in the air. Everyone was tired but no one wanted to leave just yet.

“Hey, let’s go get some air.” Tom nudged me. I nodded. “Y/N and I are just gonna step out for a bit.” We got a few nods and sly smirks when they spotted our entwined hands. Tom led me outside to the small garden beside the restaurant, our hands swaying slightly between us. We sat on the bench in the middle of the trees and bushes. I admired our surroundings and when I looked back at Tom, I found that he was looking at me intently.

“What?”

“It’s nothing.” Tom stated.

“Doesn’t seem like nothing. Your eyebrows are doing the scrunchy thing again.” My hand went up to rub the crease between his eyebrows. Our faces were so close to each other now. I could see the early signs of crow’s feet growing on the corners of his eyes. I could see the little bump on his nose from when he broke it last year. Tom let out a long sigh and rested his forehead against mine.

“Y/N....”

“Tom…” My voice becoming breathy.

“I love you.”

“Y/N!” I snapped out of my daydream and faced my friend Sophia.

“Hmm?”

“I asked you a question?” She tilted her head at me.

“Oh yeah, sorry. I don’t know where my head is. What was the question again, Soph?”

“Are you alright? You’ve been a little out of it since you got here.” Soph asked, concern lacing through her voice.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I lied. She raised her eyebrow at me.

“We both know that’s not true. Is it about what happened with Tom?” Sophia lowered her voice so that only the two of us could hear. I averted my eyes from hers and busied myself with the corners of my napkin.

“I’m fine, Soph.” My eyes looked across the table and found Tom looking straight at me.

“What?”

“I love you, Y/N.” Tom cupped my face. “I can’t believe it took me this long to tell you but I do. I really do.”

“Tommy…”

“You don’t have to say it back. I just had to say it or else I was gonna lose my mind but please don’t -” I cut him off by pressing my lips against his. I felt Tom freeze for a second before his arms curled around my waist and pulled me close to him, deepening our kiss. We eventually had to pull away.

“You don’t know how long I’ve dreamed of you saying that.” I whispered. Tom chuckled and hugged me tighter. “I love you too, Tom.”

Tom placed small kisses on my neck and jaw, making his way back to my lips. Pouring all his emotions into the kiss. “So, did you have any other dreams about me?” I smirked.

“How about I show you?”

Y/N, stop it. My face felt warm as my mind recalled the memories of last year. I rubbed my neck and pushed my hair over my shoulder to let cool air waft over me. I tapped my cold hand on my cheek to lessen the blush that was on my face.

“Hey Soph, I’m just gonna get some air. I’m feeling a little hot. One too many sips of wine I think.” I gave her a tight smile.

“Oh okay, you want some company?”

“It’s okay. I wanna be alone for a while.” She nodded at me and I went out to the garden where everything went wrong last year. I sat on the same bench where Tom and I confessed our love for each other. Or at least I did. I heard the sounds of feet stepping on gravel from behind me. Looking back, I saw Tom slowly approaching me. I sighed and turned back around.

“Do you mind if I sit?”

“Not at all. I was just about to go back inside.” I began to walk back to the door when Tom grasped my wrist.

“Y/N, please. Let’s talk.” He pleaded.

“Why? You didn’t want to talk last year? Remember, when you left alone in my room and you never answered any of my texts or my calls for months.” I crossed my arms. “Do you know how shitty it feels to have the guy you love to confess that he likes you back then you sleep together then the next morning he just disappears?”

“Y/N… I don’t know what to say.”

“Then I don’t know why I’m still talking to you.” I turned back around.

“Wait, wait, wait. Please.” Tom ran in front of me and grasped my shoulders. Even the slightest touch from him made my head swirl. “I know what I did is unforgivable and I don’t expect you to forgive me but just know that I haven’t stopped thinking about you. Ever. I still love you. I will always love you. I was just…”

“You were what?”

“Scared. This newfound fame, it’s great but I knew it would come with consequences and I didn’t want you to get caught up in those consequences.” Tom explained.

“That still doesn’t explain why you never even responded to any of my texts or calls. Why you unfollowed me everywhere? Why Harrison wouldn’t tell me anything about how you were? The only way I could hear about you was through entertainment news shows. You’re-” I stopped myself. “You were my best friend.”

“ My fans, I love them but some of them have a tendency to attack girls that may be associated with me. I thought that by cutting you out of my social media presence, I was protecting you. That way no one could find you and connect you back to me. I’d rather have you hate me and stay away than seeing the pain I’d caused you everyday.” Tom’s grip on my shoulders was so tight. A tear fell down my face. There was a silence after that, neither of us knowing what to say next.

“That’s a very Peter Parker thing to do.” I wiped the tear from my face. Tom looked shocked that I was being friendly now.

“I guess he’s rubbing off on me now.”

“Well, I hope some of his smarts rubbed off too so you never have to act like a dumbass ever again.” I wrapped my arms around his torso and breathed him in. Tom returned my hug, almost crushing me.  “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too. Let me make it up to you? Please?”

“Oh you’re definitely going to make it up to me. No more of this protecting me bullshit. I’m a big girl. I can protect myself.” I crossed my arms, a small smirk playing on my lips.

“Yes ma’am. Just as long as you let me take you out for lunch tomorrow?”

“You’re not gonna run away this time?” I asked.

“No, no more running. I’m here to stay. If you’ll let me?” Tom hesitated and I realized that we were both scared of what might happen between us. But I still loved him.

“It’s a date.” I smiled and Tom’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Let’s go back inside?” He nodded and we walked back inside the restaurant. Our hands were brushing each other with every step. Tom’s fingers were twitching, reaching out for mine. I rolled my eyes and entwined our fingers together. He looked down at me with a look of pure joy on his face. We had goofy grins on our faces as we neared our friends. Harrison saw us first and smirked at us.

“Hey, lovebirds. All warmed up now?” All our friends looked at us. I blushed and looked at Tom. His cheeks were just as red as mine as he scratched the back of his neck. Tom squeezed my hand.

“We’re working on it.”

[afirethatcannotdie]

so @kitchentour​ just read my college au (we are only just beginning) and we started talking about our love of domestic fluff and then she sent me a long list of ideas for outtakes, and then next thing you know i’m writing one. so this is for you, annie. welcome to the squad.

“What if Harry got sick while Louis was out of town and the other boys tried to take care of him but Harry is so sick and mopey and annoying?”

Harry comes to consciousness at the feeling of a finger poking him in the thigh. The lights of the room are blinding, and there’s an uncomfortable pain in his arm. This must be some kind of weird dream.

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and then opens them again. Liam’s peering down at him, a concerned expression on his face. Zayn’s sitting on a couch a few feet away, sipping on a milkshake. Harry would love a milkshake.

“What’s goin’ on?” Harry asks. His throat feels raspy, and as he looks around the room, he realizes he’s in a hospital room. There’s an IV in his arm, one that leads to a bag of fluids, and he’s dressed in a flimsy blue paper gown. He’s not quite sure if he’s wearing pants.

“You passed out, you idiot,” Niall says, strolling into the room. He’s holding two cups of Starbucks coffee. He passes one to Liam, and then they both take a seat on either side of Zayn. “You know when they say not to work out after giving blood, they mean it?”

Suddenly, it all comes rushing back to Harry. The prick of the needle this morning, the nurse’s instructions to eat some cookies and take it easy, the feel of the treadmill under him as he started his run at the gym. He’d had to ten miles in preparation for his half marathon. Ten miles on a treadmill sounded like hell, but it was far to cold to run outside, so he decided to suck it up and get it done. Three miles in, he started to feel shaky and dazed, and then next thing he knew he was falling to the ground.

“You’re a bit of a moron, you know that?” Zayn asks. His face is a weird mixture of concern and disapproval, and Harry doesn’t like that he’s the one who put it there. “What were you thinking?”

“I don’t know,” Harry says, his head cloudy. He was thinking that he’d given blood many times, and nothing bad had ever happened. He was thinking that it’d be nice to get his workout over with on a Saturday morning so that he could relax for the weekend. “How bad is it?”

“You’ve got pretty bad dehydration,” Liam says. “They said they’re gonna send you home in a few hours. Did you even eat anything?”

Harry shakes his head. “They tried to get me to eat some cookies, but I said no because I’m in training.”

“Who gives a fuck about training?” Liam says, his voice raised. Niall flinches at the sound. “Harry, you have to be more careful. You can’t just go risking your life for literally no reason.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry says quietly. It feels a bit like when his mum would scold him for coming home late in high school. He does feel bad, mainly for the way they’re all looking at him with sad expressions on their faces.

“It’s alright, mate, we’re just glad you’re safe,” Niall says. “We’ll take you home and get you all better.”

Niall sets his coffee cup on a table and approaches Harry, not asking for permission before he curls up in the bed next to him. Harry wince when he jostles the IV, but Niall apologize and snuggles close. It’s like the beginning of freshman year, when they’d sometimes accidentally fall asleep in the same bed.

“What’d Lou say?” Harry asks, trying to reach his phone but unable because of how he’s tethered to the bed. “Was he pissed?”

Silence falls. “That’s, er, that’s the thing,” Zayn says, rubbing at his forehead. “We, uh, haven’t told him yet.”

“You what?”  Louis shouts. “Are you fucking dumb?”

Harry winces and pulls the phone away from his ear. They’ve just gotten back to the apartment, and Harry’s laying on the living room couch, tucked in under a pile of blankets (courtesy of Niall) with a gallon of water at his side (courtesy of Zayn). He can still hear Louis’ voice on the line, anger lacing his tone, and he counts to three before he puts the phone back to his ear.

“—monumentally stupid idea, you know we’ve talked about this, you can’t push yourself so hard, I swear one day—”

“Lou, baby,” Harry says softly, interrupting Louis’ tirade with two words. “I’m alright. It’s gonna be fine.”

Louis takes a deep breath, like he’s preparing to yell for another ten minutes, but then he lets it out slowly. “You better be.”

“I am, I swear it. Listen, I’m feeling better already.” That’s not quite true, but what Louis doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

“Are you sure?”

“Have I ever lied to you before?”

“Dozens of times,” Louis says, but he laughs, which is all that Harry wanted anyway. “Do you want me to come home and take care of you?”

“I can’t ask you to leave your conference,” Harry says. Louis has been looking to this theater conference in Virginia for months. “How is it going, by the way? The pictures you send me looked sick.”

“It’s good,” Louis says, and he sounds distracted. “But we already performed, and we’re just hanging around until Monday. I’ll come home. On the off chance we win an award, someone else can accept it.”

“Louis William. You’re staying there to have fun, and I’ll see you on Monday when you come home. I’ll be fine. I’ve got the boys here if anything should happen.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about,” Louis says quietly. “Hey, can you pass the phone to Niall? I want to talk to him real quick.”

“Sure,” Harry tells him, and then he yells for Niall to come help.

“What’s wrong, what hurts?” Niall says, running into the room and nearly slipping on the hardwood floor in his socks.

“It’s Lou,” Harry says. “He wants to talk to you. Bye, Lou, love you.”

Niall looks vaguely irritated, like he ran into the room expecting Harry to be bleeding from his head and he’s disappointed to find that he’s not.

“Bye, baby. Love you more.”

Niall takes the phone away from Harry before Harry can do something stupid like cry. “I’ve got food on the stove, Tommo, this better be good.”

A pause.

“Yes, Louis, I am actually making some soup for him right now. No, he doesn’t have a fever. God, the two of you are insufferable. Yes, I am taking care of him.” Niall walks into the kitchen, still holding Harry’s phone, and there’s nothing Harry can do about it. Distant murmurs of conversation are all he can hear, and then he closes his eyes and drifts off.

When he wakes up for the third time that day, the room is empty and the house silent. There’s no one around.

“Niall? Liam? Zayn?” No answer.

His head falls back against the pillows. He looks around for his phone as his stomach rumbles, and then remembers that Niall took it when he was talking to Louis. Fuck. He’s really hungry, and his head still hurts, and he misses Louis.

“Niall!” he yells louder. “Liam, where are you?”

Silence.

“LIAM!”

Liam’s bedroom door opens, and he pops his head out. “Harry, what the fuck’s going on?”

“I’m hungry and my head hurts and I need food,” Harry says. “Can you get me some food?”

“Sure,” Liam says. “Niall made some soup but you fell asleep before you could eat it.”

“Can you get it for me? And my phone too? Please? I wanna text Lou.”

“Sure,” Liam says after a minute. Harry settles back and closes his eyes while he waits for the soup.

Don’t fall back to sleep this time, don’t do it.

He does indeed manage to stay awake until Liam returns with a tray of soup, a glass of water, and… a flower in a vase?

“Lou insisted we add the flower, “ Liam grumbles. “It’s like he’s your mum or something.”

“He loves me,” Harry says happily, reaching to brush his fingers over the flower petals. It’s one of the fake ones from the arrangement in their kitchen, but that doesn’t make it any less adorable of a gesture. “Thanks, Liam.”

Liam settles the tray in Harry’s lap, hands him the phone — one message from Louis, checking in to see how he’s feeling; Harry replies with a doing great! xx — and tells him to drink up the water. He stands up, looking like he intends to head back to his room, and Harry wraps two fingers around his wrist to stop him.

“Can you stay?” Harry asks, and his voice sounds pitiful even to his own ears. “Just for a bit? Tell me a story or something?”

Liam hesitates, and then nods, taking a seat at the end of the couch. “What do you want to hear about?”

“Anything,” Harry says immediately. “It’s too quiet here and I’m bored.”

“Alright. You want to hear about the awful movie me and Sophia saw last week?”

Harry nods, and then he loses himself in Liam’s words. He feels like shit, and it’s nice to have someone to pay attention to him for a little bit.

Fifteen minutes later, Liam interrupts his story with a frown on his face. “Harry, why haven’t you eaten all the soup?”

Harry looks down at the bowl. It’s half empty. “It’s fine, I don’t want all of it.”

“Haz, you gotta eat it all.”

“It’s fine, I’m not that hungry anymore.”

“Eat it, please, Harry,” Niall says, coming down the stairs from his bedroom with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. “I don’t want you to get sick again, or worse, have Louis yell at me for an hour.”

“Finish the soup,” Zayn says, popping his head out of his bedroom door.

“I hate this,” Harry says, pouting. All the same, he gives in to the glares of his roommates and dutifully finishes the soup.

“Are you warm enough?” Niall asks. “Do you want a blanket or a book to read or another story?”

“I’m not a five year old,” Harry grumbles, swatting Niall’s hand away from his forehead. “I’m fine.”

“Harry, you had to go to the hospital because you passed out from dehydration. Drink some more water.”

“I hate this,” Harry repeats. “Stop babying me.”

“Fine,” Niall says. “If you want us to leave you alone, we’ll do that.”

Niall and Liam share a look, and logically Harry knows that it’s probably about how annoying he’s being, but he can’t help it. He watches them leave for their separate rooms, and then he’s left alone again.

He spends some time on his phone, playing Words With Friends with Gemma, but then she stops taking her turns and he figures she’s found better things to do. He doesn’t text Louis, because he doesn’t want to worry him. If he tells Louis how pitiful he feels, Louis will fly home, and he can’t have that happen.

He considers it an impressive feat that he makes it a whole forty three minutes of sitting in silence before he starts to go out of his mind with boredom again.

“Zayn?” he calls. A beat of silence passes, and then Zayn appears in the hall. “Can we watch a movie?”

“I thought you didn’t want anyone to bother you.”

“I take it back. I want to watch a movie.”

“Alright, but I have to work on my homework during it.”

“That’s fine. Can we watch Love Actually?”

Zayn sighs heavily and then nods before finding the disc at the top of the pile and starting the film. Louis would watch it with me, Harry thinks pitifully.

If only Louis were here. Harry wouldn’t have to ask or feel like he was bothering anyone or tell them what he wanted. Louis would know exactly what to do.

An hour into the movie, Harry’s stomach rumbles ferociously. He ignores it, but then it happens a second time, and then shortly after, a third. “I’m hungry.”

“Aren’t we all,” Zayn says, attention not wavering from the laptop screen in front of him.

“Can we order some food? Where’s Niall? Niall will totally order something with me.”

“Don’t even think about getting up,” Zayn says just as Harry starts to push the blankets back.

“But I have to pee.”

“Well you could’ve just said that.” Zayn rolls his eyes. He watches as Harry walks to the bathroom, feeling a bit unsteady. “If you’re not back out here in six minutes, I’m coming in to check on you, alright?”

He makes it back to the living room without interruption. When he gets there, he sees Jesy in the living room, perched on the couch next to Zayn, Niall, and Liam. What is she doing here?

“How’s everyone’s favorite patient?” she asks.

“Not very patient,” Zayn says. “He keeps trying to get up and do things, and he’s being whiny.”

“I’m hungry!” Harry protests.

“So Liam said. He sent me to cook dinner for you.”

“I think a girl could fix this problem,” Liam adds.

“That’s clearly not the case,” Jesy says, eyebrows raised.”

“Absolute sexism,” Harry grumbles. “We can’t have that. Besides, Jesy, you’re shit at cooking. No offense, I mean.”

“None taken. That’s why I brought a frozen pizza.”

“Well, the girls and I drew straws and I’m the one who got sent over. So the pizza’s in the oven, and you’re going to shut up, eat it, and let the rest of us carry on. You’re not dying.”

“You’re acting like Kim in that episode where she loses her earring. People are dying, Kim! And you’re not one of them, Harry,” Zayn says.

“Thanks ever so much for your contribution,” Harry says, trying and failing not to sound snarky. “I’m sorry  that you’re all angry with me, but I miss my boyfriend and I am dehydrated and I miss my boyfriend and you all suck a little bit right now.”

No one says anything.

“Louis wouldn’t treat me like this,” he says quietly, taking a sip of water.

“Well, you told Louis to stay where he is,” Niall says, “and that’s your problem.”

“I hate it.”

It’s a testament to the fact that they all know him well enough to let it go, just continue to watch the movie in silence and bring him some pizza when it’s ready. He knows he’s acting like a whiny, entitled brat, but he wants to curl up with Louis, have his hair played with, and fall asleep. And he can’t do any of that when Louis isn’t here.

He ends up going to bed around nine, more for something to do than anything. Alone in the too-big bed, he ends up staring at the wall, trying to count sheep and staring at the framed picture of him and Louis that hangs next to the door.

Around 11:30, Niall checks on him, apologizing for bothering him all day.

“No, it was me that was an asshole,” Harry says, sitting up against the headboard and patting for Niall to join him. He takes a seat on the edge of the bed and holds his hand out for Harry to hold. “I was a brat.”

“It’s alright,” Niall says with a shrug. “Well, it was annoying, but we all have our moments. It’s shitty to be sick. I’m sorry Lou’s not here.”

“‘S’alright, he’ll be home in a few days,” Harry says quietly, looking down at the text he’d gotten from Louis a few minutes ago. Get some sleep and feel better. Love you, see you soon xx

“Want me to tuck you in?”

Harry laughs. “Yes please.”

He’s eating breakfast in the kitchen the next day, oatmeal with fruit prepared lovingly by Zayn, who has forgiven him for his outburst, when the door opens.

Harry’s eyes widen, because if Zayn is sitting next to him and Liam’s scooping more oatmeal into a bowl and Niall’s sitting on the kitchen counter, that must mean…

“Hello?” Louis asks from the hallway, and Harry’s blood turns hot. “Anybody home?”

Harry sets down his bowl with a loud clanging and scrambles out of his seat. He can’t move fast enough, not when Louis is, against all odds, standing in the front hallway.

“Hi,” Louis breathes, and Harry’s sure that he looks great but he doesn’t even get more than a second to look at him before he’s charging towards him and enveloping him in a hug. “Whoa, whoa, slow down, it’s alright.”

Harry presses a kiss to his shoulder and breathes Louis in as he squeezes him tight by the waist. He inhales sharply when Louis squeezes him back. He’s actually here.

“You’re here,” Harry says softly, and then the tears start to fall. Louis holds him for a minute, and then draws back and runs his thumbs along Harry’s cheeks, wiping the tears away.

“Took the first flight out this morning,” Louis says. “Let’s sit down, I don’t want you to stand for too long when you’re still sick.”

“I’m fine,” Harry starts to say, but Louis shushes him and leads him to the couch, pulling him down so that they’re stretched out and he’s enveloped in Louis’ arms.

“How are you doing, baby?” He runs his fingers through Harry’s hair tenderly. The curls tumble down to graze Harry’s shoulders, and Harry isn’t sure who loves it more, him or Louis. He closes his eyes and considers it.

“Better, now. Much better.”

“Good.”

“I can’t believe you ditched your conference.”

"It's fine. It was boring anyway. And I heard some insider info that our show didn't even win, so it's no big deal."

"You came back for me," Harry says with a grin, trailing his fingertips down Louis' cheek.

"Alright, fine," Louis says, his face bursting into a smile. "I came back for you."

They spend the rest of the day cuddled up together, exactly like Harry was dreaming of the day before, talking when he wants to and silent when he doesn’t, and he wonders how in the world he got so lucky to be loved by Louis Tomlinson.

[juliusschmidt]

backstage breathplay

A little smut in the ‘Last Best Option’ universe (masterpost here). It was inspired by a tumblr prompt I received this summer for ‘breathplay.’ But it’s very gentle breathplay tied up with some very gentle d/s undertones. 

(thanks to e for the quick beta)

H/L 1.7k Explict

Louis’ shoes squeak against the linoleum floor as he races down the hallway, pushing past a throng of folks in black shirts and then turning down another, darker hallway.

A blonde woman is clutching the hand of a small child and gesticulating wildly, long, bare arms almost hitting the wall. Harry’s bodyguard folds his arms across his chest and shakes his head. “Too late,” he says. “The artist doesn’t like visitors after the show. Only close family and crew members allowed inside at this time.”

The woman begins to speak again, this time pointing to the little girl, who has begun to cry. “We bought her VIP passes for the meet and greet, but I was late picking her up from daycare. It’s her seventh birthday today.”

The guard shakes his head. “Sorry, ma’am. The meet and greets are before the shows for a reason. The artist does not take fans back here after the show.”

The man sees Louis and jerks his chin up.  “Sorry, kid. As I was just telling these ladies. No fans backstage after the show.”

Louis heart, which has been racing since well before the show even began, stops abruptly, tripping over itself, before starting back up again, even faster than before.

The hall is quiet for a moment except for the choked back sobs of the little girl.

“I can call someone on the radio here to escort you three out to the VIP parking area if you need help finding your way.”

The mother huffs. “No, we’ll be alright.” She turns around and meets Louis’ eyes with a roll of her own. “Good luck.”

Louis reaches for his badge. It’s red, for family. Except that he’s not wearing it. Fuck. He’d handed to it Lottie halfway through the show so she’d be able to use the backstage bathroom, and then she and her friends had walked off with it.

“I’m Harry’s, erm, best friend,” Louis tries.

The bodyguard shakes his head. “His best friend’s named Johnny and he’s about four inches taller than you, dark hair. We met earlier this evening. Nice try.”

Louis tugs at the hem of his shirt. “I swear to God, I’m a good friend. Harry invited me back here after the show.” He closes his eyes. “I can text him!”

“Sorry, kid. I’ve heard this story too many times. Good friends, lost touch, just wanted to say hi. Nope, not tonight. He’s hired me for a reason, buddy.”

At that moment, Harry’s PA, Susan, opens the door. She smiles, “Hi, Louis. He just hopped in the shower, but he’s expecting you.”

Louis smirks at the security guard. “I told you,” he says.

Susan frowns. “You two haven’t met yet, have you? Rob, this is Louis, Harry’s boyfriend. Louis this is Rob. His job is to keep Harry’s ass safe, so don’t give him trouble, Louis. I know you want to keep your man’s bum in tact.”

“Rob, nice to meet you. Harry and I sure as shit aren’t boyfriends. We prefer ‘fuckbuddies.’” Causal. Laddish. That’s the tone Louis shoots for.

Fuckbuddies. That’s it. That’s all this is. Even after nearly two years. Just buddies. Who fuck. On occasion.

“You kiss your mum with that mouth?”

Louis flicks Rob off. He decides he likes the guy. He’ll tell Harry to keep him around for a while, anyway. Susan’s right about him wanting Harry’s delightful bottom unscathed.

“Hazza!” Louis shouts. The room is empty save a dark area rug and leather couch. Definitely an upgrade in decor from the ping pong table and bean bags he’d shared with five other guys during the X Factor tour.

A heavy door separates the main room from the bathroom and Louis bangs on it a few times. “Hazza!”

The door pushes open into him.

And then Harry is bare-ass naked in front of him.

Louis eyes catch on his soft cock and balls before he meets Harry’s gaze.

Harry’s grinning. “Hello.”

Louis throws himself at Harry and the damp of his skin seeps through Louis’ shirt and jeans. “You’re hot,” Louis whispers.

Harry’s hands slide under Louis’ bum, as he lifts him up and shoves him up against the wall. “Goddamn. I’ve been waiting for you forever.”

Louis cants his hips and leans in to bite at Harry’s ear. “You didn’t get yourself off without me, did you?”

Harry shakes his head, curls tickling Louis’ cheek. Louis’ body is bracketed by the cold concrete of the wall against his back and the heat of Harry’s body in front. A shiver runs down his spine.

“So…?”

Harry’s questions hang in the air unstated, but Louis hears them anyway. What did you think of the show? Did you hear the fourteen times that I missed a note? Do you think I can hold my own on the huge stage?

He’s answered them all before, during the last tour and then again when Harry was doing album promo in the UK last fall, but he doesn’t mind answering them again.

“You were so amazing,” Louis says. Harry thrusts up a little. Just a few words and he’s hardening. “So much energy up there, Haz. You were on fire. No one could take their eyes off you. Pure, raw sex, just like the show reviews said.”

Harry lets Louis down, slowly, but keeps him pressed against the wall. “You think?”

“Fuck, yeah, I think. I got hard watching you lick your lips and mime giving the mic a blowjob.”

“Mmm.” It’s not a reply. Harry doesn’t reply because he’s too busy licking at Louis’ neck and squeezing Louis’ ass.

“It should have been weird,” Louis continues. “A mic is an inanimate object and it doesn’t really look that much like a dick.”

Just as Louis says the word ‘dick,’ Harry reaches round to his front and places a hand over Louis’. Louis’ head hits the wall.

“God,” he says. “And your voice. I mean, you sound like you’ve just woken up or something, but all the time. I mean, I’ve heard you during sex. I know your tone is somewhere between hot molasses and gravel. But it’s something else to hear it projected in an arena to twenty thousand people.”

Mouth open on Louis’ collarbone, Harry murmurs, “You calling me slow and rough?”

That startles a chuckle out of Louis. “Yeah. That’s how I like it, too. So, I suppose you’ll do. Fuck, Haz. An arena, filled for you. It must be so surreal on the stage. All the screaming and shouting. People with posters asking you to marry them. Thousands- tens of thousands- of people who know every single word to your songs.”

Harry’s sunk to his knees and is nosing at Louis’ belly. Harry’s own belly has shrunk and hardened over the last two years. He works out several hours each day, lifting and running and, surprisingly, boxing.

Louis feels a little self-conscious, but Harry doesn’t seem to have lost interest in him, despite now having an array of newer and fitter fuckbuddy options.

“God, when you first came out onto the stage, you were running. I’ve never seen you move that fast in my whole life. It was like the electric guitar-” Louis’ voice catches as Harry’s breath blows hot through the fabric at Louis’ crotch “-was moving through you and you had to keep pace with it. You’ve described that feeling before, over the phone, I remember. And I could see it, you know.”

Harry’s teeth pull at Louis’ zip. Louis runs a hand through Harry’s hair, pushing his head back so that their eyes meet. “You’re like a some kind of rock sex God, Harry. Do you even realize?”

Harry’s pupils are blown wide, eyes more black than green, now. With their gazes locked, Harry bites at Louis’ cock.

“Fuck, ow,” Louis hisses. “I’m saying something nice about you and you go and bite me.”

He doesn’t mean it, though. He does like it a bit rough, and Harry knows that.

“I wonder,” Louis says. “If it gets you hot? All those people screaming your name? I know you like it when I scream your name. One of your concerts is like that times twenty, thirty, forty thousand.”

Harry shoots up and leans in, covering Louis’ mouth with his own. His tongue dives in, quick and eager. Forceful.

Louis’ ready for it; he’s already hard up and so is Harry. He relaxes himself against the wall, open to Harry’s assault.

Harry’s erection presses into Louis’ stomach, Harry’s whole body flat against Louis’ own and heavy.  

Louis gasps for breath, “I could see you thickening up in your jeans. Was tempted to jump up on stage with you. Get you off right there, in front of everyone.”

It’s a favorite fantasy of Louis’, one they’ve toyed with over Skype. Harry likes it, too, and his cock twitches.

Harry sinks his teeth into Louis’ neck. 

“Oh fuck. Harry. Oh my God.” His voice echoes off the concrete and Harry leans even more heavily against Louis’ body and begins to rock his hips, in small tight motions.

Louis manages to choke out a whine.

“Rob will hear you,” Harry hisses into his ear. “And any lingering fans who manage to make their way back here.”

“You like- that- don’t you?” Louis groans back, the rhythm of his words matching Harry’s thrusts. “The possibility- we might- be caught out.”

Harry slaps a hand over Louis’ mouth and Louis’ head spins. “Not as much as you do.”

Louis keeps his eyes closed, barely able to move, glad that Harry keeps his pace even, his thigh pressing over and over and over again against Louis’ hard length.

He can barely breathe, with Harry’s weight covering his chest and Harry’s hand covering his mouth, but he can’t imagine why he’d need to. Harry’s taking care of everything important.

His free hand reaches between them, dips into Louis’ jeans, and grabs hold of Louis’ cock. After that, it’s like Louis’ wrapped in black velvet, warm and soft and heavy. Harry tightens it with the tug of his hand and pull of his words.

“It was all for you, babe. That show. All for you.”

Louis wants to cry because-

Just like that

And it’s over. Louis’ coming inside inside his jeans.

Harry releases him, letting his hand slide away, fingers grazing Louis’ cheek. He presses a kiss onto Louis’ temple and then another on to Louis’ ear.  “I’m so glad you came, Lou.”