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I write stuff sometimes!! :)

[harperwritesstuff]

Rarepair warning!!

Owen Harper x Norton Folgate (don't ask how we got there)

Owen had never been much of a dancer. In fact, the idea of dancing had always seemed more like a cruel social experiment than a fun activity. But there he was, with the radio softly playing in the background and Norton Folgate - Norton bloody Folgate - Holding his hand and swaying as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

The song on the radio was decidedly modern - well, modern by Norton’s standards. Nelly Furtado “Maneater” was pulsing through the tiny speaker, a sharp contrast to the elegant, mid-century vibe that Norton carried with him wherever he went. Still, it was infectious, and Norton didn’t seem to mind. In fact, his lips curled into a devilish grin as he set one foot forward and pulled Owen closer.

“Come on, Owen. Loosen up a bit!” Norton teased, his voice dripping with a playful confidence. “You’re far too stiff.”

“That’s because I don’t dance, Norton.” Owen replied, his tone exasperated but not entirely unkind. He was acutely aware of how out of his depth he was, awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

Norton tilted his head, his dark eyes sparkling mischievously. “Oh, come now, Owen. You might even enjoy yourself!!”

Owen rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are.” Norton quipped, stepping back slightly to take the lead. He spun Owen - Well, attempted to spin Owen, but Owen’s feet got tangled, and the whole movement ended in a clumsy stumble.

“Oh, For- Norton, I am going to break something!” Owen protested, though he didn’t pull away.

“Not if you let me do the hard work.” Norton said smoothly, steadying Owen with a firm hand on his waist. “Just follow my lead. Trust me, darling, I know what I’m doing.”

And he did. Norton moved with the kind of practiced grace that could only come from someone who had spent hours perfecting the art. His steps were precise but not rigid, fluid but not overly showy. It was obvious he was used to dancing to a different rhythm, something more suited to the swing and jazz of his time, but he adapted with surprising ease to the modern beat of the song.

Owen, meanwhile, was a mess. His movements were jerky, his timing off, and he kept glancing down at his feet as though they were foreign objects. But Norton didn’t seem to care. If anything, he looked utterly delighted by Owen’s ineptitude.

“You’re enjoying this far too much.” Owen muttered.

“Of course I am.” Norton replied, his grin widening. “You’re adorable when you’re flustered.”

“I’m not flustered.” Owen lied, his cheeks burning.

“Hm-hmm.” Norton hummed, pulling Owen closer until their bodies were nearly flush. He guided Owen’s hands to rest on his shoulders, his own settling on Owen’s hips. “Now, stop thinking so much. Just move with me.”

To Owen’s surprise, it sort of worked. He stopped over-analyzing each step, letting Norton’s movement dictate his own. It wasn;t exactly smooth, but it was an improvement. And for the first time, Owen started to understand why people might enjoy this whole dancing thing.

The song’s chorus hit again, and Norton gave Owen a dramatic dip, eliciting a startled laugh from the usually stoic doctor.

“You’re ridiculous.” Owen said, breathless but grinning.

“And you’re falling for it.” Norton shot back, his tone light but his gaze warm.

The song ended far too soon, leaving the apartment in a sudden heavy silence only broken by the sound of their breathing. Norton didn’t let go immediately, his hands lingering on Owen’s waist.

“See? That wasn’t so bad.” Norton said softly.

Owen shook his head, still smiling. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here you are.” Norton echoed with a smile.

Owen chuckled, leaning in to press a quick kiss to Norton’s lips before pulling away. “Yeah. Here I am.”

[harperwritesstuff]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Error hey guys

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Torchwood (Big Finish Audio), Torchwood Soho (Big Finish Audio) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Norton Folgate, Rev Edward Folgate, Gerald Folgate, Original Characters Additional Tags: Norton Folgate's childhood, Set in the 1920s, Norton does NOT like church, Major Original Character(s), no beta we ascend like norton folgate, I dont like Norton's dad, Gerald Folgate is an ASSHOLE Summary:

Young Norton Folgate does not like church. I'm so bad at summary's I'm sorry just read the freaking fic

[harperwritesstuff]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Torchwood, Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Andy Davidson/Fifteenth Doctor, Andy Davidson/The Doctor Characters: The Doctor (Doctor Who), the fifteenth doctor (doctor who), Andy Davidson Additional Tags: crack ship, Crack Treated Seriously, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Andy Davidson Needs a Hug, andy had a long day :(, Canon isn't real if I don't look at it Summary:

Andy comes home after a long day at work..

[harperwritesstuff]

Brotzly sickfic I wrote at like 4am last night

Todd knew Dirk well enough by now to recognize that his insistence that he was “perfectly fine” was a red flag on its own. Over the past few hours, Dirk had become progressively quieter, and slower. And (if Todd dared to admit it), decidedly pale. But each time Todd raised a brow or even outright asked if he was okay, Dirk would deflect with a wave of his hand and a big stupid smile. “Oh, please, Todd! I am perfectly functional! Even if I’m… slightly less dazzling than usual!”

By the time they’d gotten back to the apartment from the agency, Dirk was walking so heavily that Todd practically had to steer him toward the couch.

“Alright, that’s it.” Todd said, exasperated, as he watched Dirk slump into the cushions, the usual spark in his eyes dimming. “You’re sick, Dirk. Just admit it, okay? You’re not fooling anyone.”

Dirk raised his head as if to protest, but only managed a half-hearted cough. He blinked, looking betrayed by his own body. “I’m not sick, Todd! I’m simply… Recalibrating. Yes! Recalibrating my systems!”

“Oh, come on.” Todd muttered tiredly, pulling the blanket from the back of the couch and draping it over Dirk’s shoulders. “You look half-dead.”

As much as Todd found Dirk fascinating and adored him, he could be such an idiot sometime.

Dirk huffed indigentaly, which quickly turned into a coughing fit. Todd could see his resolve crumbling as he leaned back, looking (for once) like he didn’t have a witty (witty isn’t exactly the right word, stupid fits better) comeback.

That was all the confirmation Todd needed.

He disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a glass of water, setting it on the coffee table in front of Dirk. “Drink.” He instructed, tone brooking no argument. When Dirk reached for it weakly, Todd didn’t even comment about the way his hands were shaking, just watched to make sure he actually drank it.

Dirk took a sip, then scowled. “Todd, you don’t have to fuss over me. I’m actually quite capable of managing whatever minor cold I may have.”

“Minor cold?” Todd raised an eyebrow. “Dirk, you practically collapsed on the couch, That’s not a ‘minor cold.’ Just… Let me take care of you, okay?”

Dirk blinked, looking genuinely caught off guard. “You… want to take care of me?”

Todd rolled his eyes. “Yes, that’s what friends do, asshole. Now, stay put. I’ll find some medicine or something.”

Dirk grumbled something unintelligible under his breath, but he didn’t protest. Todd knew it was a rare thing for Dirk to admit weakness, even in the face of being visibly unwell, so he’d take the small victories as they came.

After a rummage through his medicine cabinet, he found some cold medicine and brought it back to Dirk, who wrinkled his nose at it like a child.

“Cold medicine is made with the singular purpose of tasting like… like an industrial-strength cleaner.” Dirk murmured.

“Yeah, But it’ll help, so suck it up.” Todd replied, shaking his head.

Dirk scrunched his nose but swallowed it down, grimacing as he did.

“Is this really necessary?”

“Absolutely.” Todd replied, fighting back a smile. Dirk’s usual bravado was tempered by an almost childlike reluctance in the face of the medicine, and Todd found himself strangely touched by it.

After a few minutes, Dirk’s head tipped back against the couch, eyes drooping. He looked oddly vulnerable, face flushed and hair slightly messy plastered against his forehead. Todd quietly grabbed a washcloth, dampened it, and placed it over Dirk’s burning forehead.

He didn’t protest this time, though his eyes fluttered open briefly, looking at Todd as if he was trying to understand this small kindness.

“Get some sleep, Dirk.” Todd said, his voice soft. “Just rest for a bit.”

Dirk seemed to relax at last, his body easing into the cushions. He opened his mouth, looking as though he wanted to say something, but the weight of exhaustion overtook him, and his eyes slipped shut. In the silence, his breathing evened out, and Todd felt a sense of relief settle over him. He settled in on the armchair next to the couch, ready to stay until he was needed again.

As the hours passed, Dirk would occasionally stir, murmuring snippets of half-formed sentences. Something about “Cosmic constellations” and “Harmonic patterns” that Todd didn’t bother to try and understand, he only chuckled, adjusting the blanket and keeping the washcloth cool when Dirk’s fever flared. In the soft, dim light of the room, Todd realized he didn’t mind taking on this role. Dirk had done plenty for him, saved him from his shitty life before. And now Todd was finally able to give him something back.

In the early hours of the morning, Dirk stirred again, eyes cracking open just enough to spot Todd half asleep on the armchair.

“Thank you, Todd.” He murmured, words barely audible but deniably heartfelt.

Todd woke up and gave him a dazed smile. “Don’t mention it, really.”

Dirk gave a faint nod, and his eyes closed again. Surrendering to sleep with a rare, unguarded ease. Todd stayed by his side, watching over him until he dozed off himself. Feeling, for once, that he was right where he needed to be.

[harperwritesstuff]

Welcome to Harper gets inspired at 5am

Inspired by the rp in the alien hub

Andy trudged up the stairs to the flat, each step heavier than the last. His uniform clung to his skin uncomfortably, still damp from the drinks that had been spilled during the bar fight. He fumbled with his keys at the door, just to find out the door was already unlocked.

He opened the door suspiciously, ready to fight off the invader.

The flat looked different, no clothes on the floor or dirty dishes on the counter. The familiar scent of home wrapped around him as soon as he stepped inside. It was never much - but it was his.

Andy’s tired eyes landed on the Doctor, standing in the kitchen with a steaming mug in hand, wearing that effortless, caring smile that never failed to sooth Andy's soul.

The Doctor was a sight of calm and comfort in contrast to Andy’s disheveled state. He stepped forward, offering the mug

"Hello, Andy" the Doctor said softly, his smile as warm as the drink he was holding.

But Andy didn’t take the mug. His exhaustion broke through his defenses all at once, like a wave crashing over a fragile dam.

He dropped his bag to the floor, closing the distance between them in one staggering step, and wrapped his arms around the Doctor. His head rested against the Doctor's shoulder, the softness of his shirt absorbing the tension in Andy’s body. He buried his face there, breathing in the familiar, grounding scent of his Fify.

Andy’s breath hitched, and before he knew it, tears were streaming down his face. It wasn’t just the overtime, or the bar fight, or even the sticky mess on his clothes. It was the overwhelming weight of the day - the responsibility, the chaos, the exhaustion of trying to keep it all together. His body shook as the sobs finally broke free, and he clung to the Doctor like he was the only thing keeping him from falling apart completely.

The Doctor didn’t hesitate. He wrapped his arms around Andy, holding him close, cradling him with an intensity that spoke of both care and strength. His fingers found their way into Andy's hair, gently twirling the blonde strands, brushing soothingly along his scalp.

He whispered something, quiet, something reassuring, but Andy couldn’t make out the words through the sound of his own muffled sobs.

The Doctor didn’t rush him, didn’t say anything more. He just held Andy there, strong and steady, like a safe harbor in the middle of a storm.

His hand moved with soft, deliberate strokes through Andy’s hair, grounding him in the sensation of warmth and presence. His other hand rubbed small, comforting circles along Andy’s back, each motion speaking more than words could about how much he cared, how much he understood without Andy having to explain.

After what felt like both an eternity and no time at all, Andy’s sobs slowed, his body gradually relaxing in the Doctor’s arms.His grip loosened slightly but he didn’t pull away. He didn’t want to. The world outside the flat, with all its chaos and demands, could wait just a little while longer. Here, in the Doctor’s embrace, he felt safe.

The Doctor pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Andy’s head, his breath soft against Andy’s hair. "I’ve got you, babes." the Doctor whispered, his voice a steady anchor. "Take your time."

Andy let out a shaky breath, the warmth of the Doctor’s body easing the last remnants of tension from his tired muscles. For the first time all day, he let himself believe that he didn’t have to carry everything alone. Not when the Doctor was here, not when he had this - this love, this quiet comfort that came without needing to be asked.

And in that moment, wrapped in the Doctor’s arms, Andy allowed himself to just be tired, vulnerable, and held.

Notes;

Gang, I cannot write 15 well I fear, so this is most likely out of character.

Also I'm bad with more fluffy stuff in general so mb

[harperwritesstuff]

Whoops.

The night was cold and unforgiving, the rain pouring down in relentless sheets, turning the alley into a grave yard. The Doctor, his brown coat soaked and clinging to his body, stumbled forward, breath ragged. His hearts pounded wildly, like thunder, as he pushed past the scattered debris, his shoes splashing through the growing puddles of rainwater.

"Andy!" The Doctor's voice cracked, desperate and husky. His eyes scanned the darkness, searching frantically. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. Not like this.

Finally, through the haze of the downpour, the Doctor saw him.

Andy Davidson lay crumpled against the brick wall, his lifeless body slumped awkwardly, like a broken marionette whos strings had been cut. His once vibrant eyes were dull, his face pale and smeared with rain and blood. The scarlet pool beneath him was spreading, staining the wet ground in a grotesque pattern. A single gunshot had torn through his chest - a clean wound, precise and deadly. It had al lhappened so fast.

The Doctor fell to his knees beside Andy, hands trembling as he reached out to touch him. His fingertips ran over Andy’s face, brushing damp hair away from his forehead. The skin beneath his touch was already growing cold. Too cold.

"No… no, no, no!" The Doctor whispered, his voice barely holding together. His fingers pressed against the bullet wound, trying to stop the bleeding, but it was futile. Blood oozed through his hands, thick and warm, seeping through his skin and mingling with the rain. His hearts felt like they were tearing apart in his chest. "Stay with me, please. Andy, don't… don't leave me. Not like this."

He pulled Andy's limp body into his arms, cradling him close, the weight of the man he loved heavy and lifeless against him. There was blood everywhere now - on his hands, soaking into his clothes, staining the ground beneath them. It mixed with the rain, forming crimson rivers that ran along the cracks in the pavement.

The Doctor’s breath hitched as he looked down at Andy's face, memories flooding his mind. The quiet moments they had shared. The stolen kisses when no one was looking. Andy’s laugh, the way his eyes sparkled when they were alone together, watching dumb movies while cuddling on the couch. Now, all of that was gone. Snatched away by a single bullet.

He had faced death countless times. He had watched friends die, companions lost to time and space. But this. - this was different. This was Andy. His Andy. The man who had become more than just a fleeting moment in his long, chaotic life.

The Doctor’s voice cracked again, the words barely audible as the rain continued to fall. "I should’ve been faster… I should’ve protected you…" He pressed his forehead against Andy’s, his tears mixing with the rain. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

The alley was silent except for the steady rhythm of rain, the world oblivious to the raw, agonizing grief that tore through the Doctor. His hearts were breaking, each pulse a reminder of what he had lost, of what he could never get back.

He held Andy closer, refusing to let go, even though he knew it was over. Andy’s chest, once warm and alive, was still. His hands, the same ones that had held the Doctor so gently, now hung limply at his sides.

For the first time in a long while, the Doctor felt powerless. He was always the one with the answers, the one who saved the day. But this time… this time he couldn’t save the person who mattered most.

"I love you" the Doctor whispered, his voice breaking completely now. The words tasted bitter on his tongue, too late to matter. Too late to change anything.

The rain continued to fall as the Doctor sat there, alone in the alley, cradling the body of the man he had loved. Blood and water mixed together, washing away everything but the unbearable pain of loss.

And somewhere, in the dark corners of the universe, the stars dimmed just a little.

[harperwritesstuff]

Dude I haven't posted anything here ://

Might post that one 15andy thing I wrote