#― out of character.

[bublebunnie]

౨ৎ your camera roll as hamzah’s gf ౨ৎ

[theofficialjadeleech]

Hey, anon, what the fuck

Jade is SEVENTEEN…he is a MINOR…

[raileurta]

Humans are scary friends

A great reason I saw why humanity is always attacked by aliens is that humans comparatively evolve technology thousands of times faster than other sentients. So in fear they try to get rid of us early.

I'm imagining a scenario where the autobots are being kept hostage in deep space and the humans who can't reach them yet try to advance their technology. 10 years pass and with lots of hard work with some help with transformers' tech this is essentially what happens.

Megatron: Haha admit it Optimus there's no one left to save you.

Optimus: We still have humanity.

Megatron: It's pathetic that you think those puny organics can save yo-

*stabbed through the chest*

Human: Get knifed bitch.

*disintegrates*

Autobots: (⁠‘⁠◉⁠⌓⁠◉⁠’⁠) ?????

Human: Hey guys we finally saved you! :3

Bumblebee: *questioning bot noises*

Human: Long story short we used plutonium plus a fuck ton of energon to blow our way through the universe, and this sword sword is filled with what is essentially black matter.

Human: Anyways let's get you out of here.

Human: Before I forget we made another all-spark by accident so you guys deserve to have the first one we originally remade.

Optimus: T-thank you... I never. What?

Ratchet: I never thought I would live to see the day Optimus broke.

[bitin-and-barkin]

Come Back To Me

Currently imagining Arthur Morgans reaction to seeing you again after you supposedly died.

Warnings: Angst, mentions/descriptions of blood/injuries + torture, eventual fluff, no smut (yet), Arthur Morgan x reader, gender neutral reader, religious talk, probably out of character, but he just really loves you okay, so he gets emotional

READ MORE UNDER THE CUT + PT 2 HERE, PT 3 HERE

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Let's say when Dutch was going to meet up with Colm, you offered yourself to act as backup instead, not wanting to make Arthur work any harder than he had.

Infact, seeing how exhausted your husband was, you were about to tear Dutch a new one for trying to make him work even more.

But they needed a sniper. And sure, you were tired. You had just gotten back from another solo job, where you scored a pretty penny for the gang. But you knew Arthur deserved a break. And so you said you'd help instead.

But while waiting on that mountain top for Colm to try something, you got distracted. You were tired, and you got sloppy. You weren't expecting his men to come for you. They snuck up behind you and wrangled you to the ground, with it taking four, maybe five men to keep you pinned down before they finally knocked you out.

When Dutch returned without you, Arthur knew something was wrong. Dutch claimed that you were probably out just doing another job, running off like you always did. Your horse was even gone from where you hitched it. And foolishly, Arthur believed him.

Now, it had been 5, maybe, 6 months after your disappearance. One month in Dutch stopped sending out search parties after they found your hat bloodied in an abandoned house, along with your ring finger.

They knew it was your ring finger, as it still had the wedding band Arthur bought for you on it.

Charles and Javier searched the area for any trails, but all of them were ruined past the point of tracking.

They arrived back to camp, bearing the bad news, that no trail could be found. Dutch pronounced you dead and had a honorary funeral. Swearing they would all eventually get revenge on Colm for this.

Revenge hadn't come.

It became even more of a common sight to see Arthur come back to camp covered in blood that wasn't his. He obsessively picked off O'Driscolls, killing and torturing every camp he found. Questioning every single one; Where were you? Where was Colm? What had Colm done to you? Were you even still alive?

Screaming that if he ever found Colm, he would rip him apart. Telling Dutch he should've killed him when he had the chance.

The image of your severed finger was engraved into his mind. They hadn't even sold the ring. They left it on just to rub it in his face.

He almost collapsed to the floor when he first saw it. He felt like he was dying. Who knew emotional pain could be so physical?

Even after the camp had sat him down and told him you were probably dead, and that he needed to accept that, he had never stopped searching. In fact, he punched Dutch in the face after he told him that.

He drew away from the gang, isolating himself. Dutch, Tilly, Hosea, Marybeth, Charles. Nobody could get through to him. He shut them all out, trying to act like everything was fine.

But nothing was fine. He knew that. He hated the world for moving on without you.

Every night he was drinking himself into a stupor, it was the only thing that let him sleep. He stopped talking or eating much, he was obviously losing weight. Always working, bringing in cash but never staying for too long.

He stopped sleeping at camp. He stopped sleeping much in general. He had nightmares whenever he did.

Your tent reminded him of you. Whenever he did sleep, it was always in your tent. It made him feel less alone.

Nobody ever took it over or moved your things because they all knew Arthur would gut whoever did.

He always thought of you, and whenever he did, he couldn't help but blame himself.

Why did he let you take his place? Why hadn't he searched for you the second Dutch came home without you? He couldn't do anything right. The same thing that happened to Eliza and Issac had happened to you. And all he did was sit around like a fool and let it happen.

How many days, weeks, had they tortured you before you died? Months, even? God, did they even wait for you to die before they took your finger off? Could you still be alive? You've always been a fighter, he knows that. If anybody was to survive being at Colm's mercy, it would be you. Could you still be waiting? In some basement, some hole in the ground, some old shack for Arthur? For the gang? For anybody to come save you? He knew what type of man Colm was. He knows Colm would do worse just to spite Dutch.

Was this punishment? For everything he had done? Was this hell? He wasn't religious, but every night where he went to bed without your presence next to his, it sure felt like it.

He was losing Dutch to his insanity. He was losing his way of life to the passing time.

And now he had lost you.

You.

God,

Why did it have to be you?

Why couldn't it have been him? Why did it have to be you? Why couldn't he have at least died with you? He would spend an eternity in hell if he could spend his eternity with you.

But what could he do about it?

What was he doing about it?

Riding into Valentine to drink himself half dead. Alone. Riding into an endless nightmare alone without you.

As he was hitching his horse outside the saloon, he saw your distinct mare hitched right next to his.

For a moment he was happy. Happy for the first time in a long time. As this was proof that maybe, just maybe you were alive. And then, he realized what had actually happened.

Some bastard after killing you had taken your horse. Like some sort of trophy.

He stomped inside the saloon. He bought that horse for you. Saw it at Strawberry while going to free Micah and just knew that you had to have it after your last one died in Blackwater.

The girl was so sweet, and obedient too. He had hunted down a panther in Lemoyne and sold it to the trapper to make a saddle for you. He made sure to fill up the saddle bags with everything you'd need to care for it, along with a couple of other gifts for you sprinkled in. When he shyly brought the whole ensemble to you, you jumped into his arms like you two were young again.

And now some selfish bastard was making a mockery of it.

He walked up to the Bartender and slammed his hands on the bar, grabbing the man by the collar of his shirt. Demanding to know who rode in with that horse.

The bartender nervously said they had rented a room. Were still upstairs as they spoke. He walked upstairs, unholstering his knife.

He was gonna make this slow.

Treading carefully towards the bedroom, turning the handle. It was locked. He backed up and kicked the door open, pointing his gun at whoever was inside, ready to shoot them in the leg if they tried to escape. No way was he gonna give them an easy death with a headshot.

And then?

He saw you.

Standing near the bed, bruises and cuts, scars new and old littering your body. Wrapped in bandages soaked in blood. Leaning against a bedpost, barely able to stand, pointing a shaky gun at the intruder.

Time stood still as your eyes met.

He dropped his gun. You lowered yours.

He whispered your name, almost like a prayer. Praying this was real.

You said his back.

Then, he ran towards you. Wrapping you in a hug, holding onto you for dear life.

Praying that if this was a dream, he would never have to wake up.

Running his fingers through your hair, gripping onto your shirt, he felt your chest heave. Your tears falling onto his shoulder, wetting his jacket.

You were crying- no, you were apologizing.

To him.

For worrying him.

And then he started crying too.

Crying into the crook of your neck like a little boy.

Arthur never really cried. He hadn't cried in so long. After your death, he never let himself cry. He felt like he didn't deserve it.

But you?

You were alive.

Your hands wrapped around his back, the distinct pressure of your ring finger missing.

Feeling your missing ring burn a hole through his pocket. Remembering the sight of your severed finger.

And the hell you must've gone through to stay alive.

He felt sick, as he sobbed into your shoulder.

What kind of man was he? Needing you to comfort him after you were tortured?

He dropped to the floor, his knees couldn't hold him anymore. Still holding onto your body, now just your legs, for dear christ. Like you might fade away if he let go. He wouldn't let you go.

He missed you more than anything.

You slowly bent down, running your fingers through his hair.

He began wondering if you were real. Was this real?

You got down to his level, sitting on your knees. Kissing him on the forehead and putting your hand on the back of his head. Pushing him into your chest, as he only sobbed louder, blubbering and crying like a fool.

About how he thought he lost you. How the whole gang thought you had died. How he never stopped looking for you. How he thought he was dying after you didn't show up back home. How he never stopped wearing his wedding ring. How he always kept yours in his pocket. How he cradled a photo of you the first time he slept after you died.

How he wanted to bleed the world for killing you.

How he wanted to shoot everything to ashes.

How he missed you every waking moment.

How he dreamed of you every night.

How he would've given anything just to hold you one more time.

Crying into your arms,

Begging you not to leave him.

You rubbed circles onto the back of his head as you comforted him. Whispering that they only tortured you, that you eventually managed to get out, that you were fine. That you're alive. That you're here with him. That you're here for him. That you weren't going anywhere.

The months that he thought you were dead melted away as he felt your fingers run through his hair,

As you promised you weren't leaving him.

You're alive.

You're with him.

You're here.

And he swore to fucking God,

He was never letting you go again.

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Okay, so should I do a smutty pt2 where he REALLY shows you how much he missed you, or should I do one who he goes fucking yandere esque from the prospect of almost losing you?? Or should I do both??

[sicklysaccharinerush]

he's about to jump the Lamb out of excitement

[fanartist666]

TW: Discussion of needles, phobias and blood Reader can be anyone, tried to be as gender neutral as possible, just rambling tbh, Price is a big soft baby and needs to be coddled when he isn't spoiling you

I headcanon this man as being scared of needles.

Hear me out, going by Barry's height Price is like 6'3, and just look at the size of him! Yeah he has Ser Harwin Strong vibes and absolutely would beat the shit out of anyone that ever insulted you and he kills people. But imagine if he was unreasonably scared of it, and it gets worse around you.

Not because you're bad for him, or you make him feel unsafe, but the opposite. His walls come down around you, and you make him feel the safest he's ever felt, so instead of gritting his teeth and hyperventilating a little (shutting down very mildly) but getting himself through it when he's away, he's got the safety to express his actual terror around you.

You go with him to get blood drawn, or a vaccination, and the phlebotomist comes out and asks if you can come in because your fucking bear of a husband is bouncing off the walls because he can't handle it.

It wasn't until ten had passed that you suspected there might be something wrong. Maybe he'd passed out, you thought with a soft snort at the absurdity of the idea. John wasn't squeamish, but it shouldn't have taken this long, surely?

"Alright luvvie, see you in a min." John said, kissing your forehead as he left to step into a little consult room. Shouldn't be long, he was going to take you for coffee afterwards, so you took out your phone and crossed your legs in the waiting room chair. The same weird, NHS logo blue and white tones in seemingly every hospital with the sickly green floors. You wrinkled your nose slightly at the stench of antiseptic stinging at the inside of your skull and settled for a five minute wait.

Just as you raised your head to glance at the clock, the door John had walked through opened, and a nurse stuck her head out.

"Is there a (Y/N) Price here?" You stood up immediately, mouth going dry at the thought that something could have gone wrong. It was only a blood sample, what the hell could have happened?

"Yes, yes that's me- is everything alright?" You asked, squeezing your phone so tight your knuckles were going white.

"No need to worry! We're just having a little trouble, would you be able to come in?" You nodded and followed her in. Your eyes landed on your very embarrassed, jumpy husband.

"John?" You asked, coming closer to him but he kept his eyes fixed on the floor.

"I don't like needles." He mumbled as you took his hand, immediately feeling his weight against your shoulder. "Apparently when I'm home, I can't cope so well."

"Oh John... Sweetheart, you could've told me." You said, kissing his cheek and taking his massive shoulders under your arms as he pressed his hot, red face into your neck.

And that was how you wound up with your 6'3 200+lbs husband half in your lap, stroking his hair and holding his hand while he had his blood sample taken, and walked out hand in hand. In return for your silence, he bought you a pastry, which you accepted, but promised him wasn't needed. Inwardly you were actually pleased that he felt safe enough with you near him to not force down his fears, to express them and by extension, himself.

If the 141 boys ever saw him with you they'd hardly recognise him, he's the same guy, his personality never changes, but he's a hundred times more expressive in every way.

idk this just kinda poured outta my head lmao

[kentahoe]

a nameless hamzah fic because i said so

srry i can’t NEVER come up with proper names for my fics. THIS PIC OF HIM MAKES ME TWEAKKK

hamzah x reader. female anatomy. friends to lovers sorta >_< .

cw: SEX idk what else to put i’ve never written smth like this before🤕 nothing out of pocket but nothing short of freaky deaky.

He was gentle, an easy smile played across his pretty lips, and his eyes were half-lidded in a way that made you feel casual. In every sense, he was someone you wanted to be around. The low hum of his voice when he told jokes, his cute teeth and calming smell.

Hamzah held himself on the couch very languidly, legs comfortably spread, leaning onto the arm rest, head tilted back ever so slightly so you could see the expanse of his neck.

Sitting up, he tilted his head towards you, smirking easily. “What? You picked this movie and suddenly you don’t like it anymore?”

Of course the one time you indulged; allowed yourself a glance, to drink in his essence next to you, of course that’s when he noticed.

“No, I just spaced out. I like it,” You turned back towards the TV, but you felt his lingering eyes on you. You almost felt like they had lasers, heat washing over you wherever they swept past on your face and body, like you had been zapped.

“What are you thinking about? You were looking right at me.” He still has that easy grin, and you feel your eye twitch in annoyance.

But could you ever really be annoyed at him?

“I don’t even remember.” Shaking your head, you chanced looking over at him, meeting his eyes.

They were deep and warm and pretty. Dark eyelashes that curled slightly, that made him even more beautiful. “I think you do.”

Simple response. Simple enough that you couldn’t come up with an answer. One flutter of his eyes and all the words were stolen from your chest. In your head, you were filing through things to say, and the longer you were quiet, the more stupid you were sure you seemed.

“I…don’t.”

Hamzah inhaled a breath, removing his hand from the side of his face where it was resting. He lifted himself with his arms, shifting in his cross-legged position to face you on the couch. It startled you a bit, because you didn’t know what he could possibly be implying. Well, you did, but there was a nervousness in your gut.

He uncrossed one leg, letting it fall over the edge of the couch, and he looked at you. With intention in his eyes. There was a goal he was working towards, but you weren’t sure what it was, if it wasn’t what you were thinking. His grey t-shirt was wrinkled a bit, and his black basketball shorts were riding up on his thighs, and you could help but exhale a breath looking at him, swallowing.

“I think you look really good,” you somehow found, straightening your back.

Hamzah’s grin grew, like he reached a new achievement. It would almost annoy you if he wasn’t so handsome. And if there wasn’t a heat boiling inside you that made the hoodie you were wearing almost unbearable. You could see his breath pick up, his chest moving.

It was almost a bit awkward, he let out a chuckle—a giggle— and your face heated up. Hamzah had inched closer to you on the couch, crossing the barrier of the cushion, and you suddenly felt a lot more nervous.

You shifted, thinking maybe you had read the situation wrong. “What? You asked.” You wanted to get defensive, blow the whole thing off and finish watching the movie so you could run away and die.

The giggle stopped, and Hamzah’s voice became very genuine, a comforting, inviting smile on his lips, that you couldn’t help but stare at as he spoke, low and intimate. “No, no. I—thank you, is what I meant.” He paused watching you, “I got nervous.” There was that giggle again.

Uncrossing your arms, you turned to face him again, lowering your voice to match his. “In a good way?” Your eyes danced across his face. Although he tried his best to hide it, the shyness creeped up his neck and seeped into his expression. It was cute.

It was hot.

“Yeah.” It was almost a whisper.

His hand had moved up to his face again, half leaning into it, and half maybe to cover his face from the nervousness he was feeling.

And suddenly you felt very brave.

You scooted towards him, wrapping your fingers gently around his wrist and lowering his hand from his face, watching as he chuckled again, leaning closer. “I think you look very good right now.”

Hamzah’s eyelids seemed to lower even more, and he hummed, his face hovering closer to yours, looking into your eyes through his lashes.

Fuck, you wanted him badly.

“You.. I—“ He started weakly.

There wasn’t enough time to process what you had done before you acted, closing the gap, pressing your lips together. You chest jumped at the feeling, and then flipped indefinitely when you realized he was kissing you back, heavily, needy. His large hand had splayed across your thigh, his other wrapping around the back of the couch as he leaned in.

Deciding after a few seconds that there wasn’t enough contact between you two, you moved your hand that was on his wrist up to his shoulder, then his neck, and the base of his jaw, guiding him to deepen the kiss, which he welcomed with fever, letting out a deep exhale through his nose. His hand became restless on your thigh, and he lazily moved it up and down, prompting you to scoot closer, where you eventually ended up on his lap.

For a moment the difference was odd, being slightly taller than him. But the way he looked up at you, god it was one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen. His beckoning hands shyly trailing up your sides.

You wanted to take this moment in. A moment to look at him. You laced your fingers into his curls at the back of his head, leaning down to connect your lips again, where you let out a breath into his mouth you didn’t know you were holding. It came out sounding like a whine, which he clearly didn’t expect, because there was a hesitation at your audible desire. He chanced it and licked into your mouth, which produced a real whine from you, pulling slightly at his hair.

His chest rumbled slightly with each breath, as his hands found their way under your hoodie and to your back. You pressed closer to him, wanting to be in contact with every part of him. You met his tongue with your own, finding your jaw becoming slightly sore.

Pulling back, you breathed heavily, looking at Hamzah, whose eyes were almost closed, also breathing deeply.

You sat up and ran both of your hands over his shoulders and chest from your position straddling him on the couch. Down his chest and over his stomach. You scooted back more, letting your hands roam over his thighs.

And god, they made you more wet. Squeezing them slightly in awe. They were so strong and you always found them incredibly sexy.

“Fuck Hamzah,” You breathed, and Hamzah raised his eyes from your hands on him to your face.

“Hmm?” He was smirking again, though it faltered slightly when your hands ran close to his dick.

“You’re so hot. Can I…I need to.” You let your fingers dance over his growing dick, and he jolted slightly.

“Ah, yeah, yeah, please.” It was quick, in one breath, desperate as he made eye contact with you, brows furrowed slightly.

Letting yourself caress him fully, you rubbed your flat hand over his bulge, stroking it between your pointed and middle finger, dancing all of your fingers over him.

Hamzah’s own hands were on your knees, squeezing them in reaction to your touches, his stomach flexing. You moved back more, allowing space to pull at the waistband of his basketball shorts that were probably too small, the way they hugged his ass and thighs. Pulling them down, he kicked them off and spread his legs wider, giving you access to his dick, that was growing hotter and hotter under your hand in his boxers.

His tip was sticky, and you used it when you wrapped your hand around him, stroking him up and down. Fuck, he was big. Girthy and heavy, stiff in your hand as you worked him.

The glimmer of sweat was beginning to form on Hamzah’s hairline, and he breathed heavily, still looking up at you. You used your other hand to push his hair back, leaning down to kiss him hard, trying to get more sounds out of him.

It worked, as the sensations seemed to overwhelm him, because he stopped kissing you back after a few seconds, screwing his eyes shut and groaning, leaning his head down and forward. “Fuck, shit.” He breathed, and his hips rolled up into your slick hand.

You stared at him, amazed. “Hamzah,”

You didn’t know why you said his name, maybe it was just acknowledgement in what you were seeing. Him being so pliable and good for you. “You’re so hot, holy shit.”

Even in the middle of getting his dick stroked, he managed to let out a chuckle, not quite used to your praise yet, or how much it excited him.

He was getting dangerously close before he stopped you, grabbing your wrist. “Hey, hey stop. Can I make you feel good? Please?”

You suddenly remembered your own need. The burning heat that shot straight from your stomach, inflaming your limbs and igniting your core. You didn’t have to hesitate to answer him this time. “Yes, yes.”

And you kissed him again, gentler, letting him take the lead. He did, and he grabbed your waist, and slowly laid you back onto the couch, using both his hands to hold up his weight above you as you hand your arms wrapped around the back of his neck. “I want you, so bad.”

Hamzah knelt between your legs, using his knees to spread them. “You’re so pretty. Your hair…looked really good today.”

The comment made you giggle unexpectedly, and you brushed it behind your ear. You remember dreading hanging out with Hamzah because you thought it was a particularly bad hair day for you. “Thank you, handsome. You are, you know? Really handsome.”

“I think I believe you.” Hamzah says, letting his eyes wander over your body.

You become aware of how hot you are, letting go of Hamzah to wiggle out of your hoodie, throwing it to the side. He grins, letting his hand fall to your hip, brushing his thumb over the material of your sweatpants. You kick them off shortly after, left in your underwear and sports bra. Too bad you weren’t wearing something cuter, but that did not seem to matter to Hamzah, he looked at you like you were the most gorgeous being he’s ever seen.

“You look good. Look hot.” It was a little awkward coming from his mouth, but it was so cute that it didn’t deter you one bit.

Instead you put your hands on his shoulders, grabbing his shirt. “Can you take this off for me?”

And he did without another word.

This position, felt so much more real. Hamzah was about to fuck you, and you were wanting it badly.

Hamzah leaned down to kiss you again, connecting his tongue to yours immediately, hands roaming up your waist to your bra, his fingertips slipping under the fabric. You grabbed his wrist and pushed his hand up, lifting your bra and making his hand meet your breast, to which you sighed at, the pressure of his hand feeling euphoric.

Taking your bra off fully, Hamzah pulled back to look at you. Only for a moment, though he was internal freaking out, he told himself he needed to act cool. So, he exhaled and found it in himself let his fingers wander, caressing you gently, firmly. When you let out a whine, he let out what sounded like a surprised cough, “Fuck,”

There seemed to be a lot of that, one word cursing. But it seemed to convey communication well, enough to be able to grasp each others thoughts.

You were kind of tired of it.

“Hamzah, fuck me. If you wanna.” You didn’t know another way to phrase it.

“I do, I will.” A whisper, almost sounding like a threat.

To you, it sounded like a promise.

Finding the waistband of his boxers in the dim lighting, you tugged on them weakly, and after Hamzah had pulled them off, you ran your hands over the curve of his hips and the small of his back, admiring him. God, you could do this all day, you thought, running your nails down his spine.

He shuddered for a second, looking at your underwear before repeating (maybe to himself again), “I will,” With more desperation, an airy voice that made your cunt writhe and stutter. He hooked two fingers at the bottom of the fabric by your leg, sliding them over your smooth legs, dropping them at your feet on the couch, behind him.

“Baby,” he breathed, leaning to kiss you as his hand wandered, searing your body, down your stomach and to your cunt, and the same two fingers crazed your clit, sliding up the folds in an experimental way.

Jolting under him, you lifted your hips in protest. “Hamzah,” you warned, though it came out more like a plea.

Hamzah giggled into your neck, kissing it before moving back to your lips to give them a quick peck. He wrapped a hand around his dick and stroked it a couple times, aligning it with your entrance, rubbing it through your wet folds and over your clit, you hissed out on pleasure at the contact, it was becoming unbearable to not have his dick in you right now. As soon as he started to push in, you wrapped your legs around him and squeezed, ushering him in faster.

“Okay, okay baby.” He cooed coolly, his other hand grasping at your waist for leverage to thrust in. “Ah, shit…” Once he was fully in, he didn’t have the resolve to wait, and immediately set a thorough, deep pace.

And just as quickly, you couldn’t think straight, restlessly squirming, trying to move in time with Hamzah’s thrusts, beckoning him to go faster. The stretch was mind-bending, you needed more. “Hamzah, harder. Please.”

“So polite,” he teased, and you sighed when he complied, though just as deep as before, the thrust became harder and licked the spot inside you that caused a moan to lurch from your throat.

As some form of gratitude, you kissed him, lacing your fingers back into his hair. It didn’t last long, as Hamzah’s cool demeanor was slowly melting, and his own moans seeped from his throat, Adam’s apple bobbing pleasantly when his head leant back. “You feel so fucking good,” he babbled, eyes closed, subconsciously moving faster. “So good.”

Fucked out, is what he looked like. Sweat had accumulated farther than his hairline, and upon his top lip that was glistening, occasionally wetted by his tongue that would flick out on concentration. His eyes were screwed shut, thick eyebrows furrowed.

You moved your hands from the back of his head to the top of his head, pushing his curls back that were almost covering his eyes, wanting him to look at you. “Hamzah, open.” You told him, and though it took a moment, he did, and blinked heavily at you, his brows furrowed even more, and his lips parted in a pant, that could have been mistaken for a lazy chuckle.

“Hey,” He said with faux coolness again, and you snickered.

“Keep going,” you grunted, “like that.” Moving in time with his thrusts became easy as mindless— mindless: like he made you feel about everything— and quickly you were approaching your climax, a red-hot rod shooting up your center from your cunt to your cheeks, and you new you were getting close.

The thought made you even more feverish, becoming louder and less concerned about your facial expressions. “I need—Hamzah I’m, ah—” He suddenly bit on you neck, not particularly hard, but the sensation was jarring enough, and it deployed a pang straight to your core, you squeezed around his cock desperately.

“I know, I know, baby. Come here.” Wrapping his hands around your torso and pulling you close to him as the reach of his thrusts increased, stroking your insides over and over again, and you finally teetered over the edge.

Hot magma poured from your center and oozed throughout your limbs, white heat flooding every cell, and you were trembling violently, opening your mouth in a moan and tilting you head back, to which Hamzah connected his mouth with again, letting out his own indications that he was on the brink of cumming, too.

“Oh my god, I’m gonna cum, I—“

“Don’t stop,” you assured when he hesitated.

You were still riding out your high when the heat inside you increased, and Hamzah’s thrust were almost animalistic, nails digging into your waist in a way that made your eyes roll back, and your insides were drowned in his cum, deep and full. Hamzah’s hands immediately traveled up to your chest again, rubbing comfortingly over your breasts, he didn’t pull out for a moment, panting, swimming in the aftershock of his orgasm. You ran your nails up and down his back again, and felt the muscles in his back relax, and he eased into you, pulling out and letting his body weight fall comfortably on top of yours.

You twirled his hair in your fingertips, slightly scratching his scalp as your breaths fell in rhythm, hearts connected, chest to chest, and each others warmth’s joining into one, sleep-inducing flame.

“You okay?” He mumbled into your neck.

“Of course,” You replied, looking down at him. “Are you?”

“I…can’t think.” He admitted sheepishly, smiling and kissing your neck.

“Can you think enough to make it to the shower, handsome?” You smiled at him.

Hamzah grew a grin on his lips. “We’ll see.” And he slowly rolled off of you, throwing his boxers on easily, picking up a blanket for you that was on the back of the couch, wrapping it around you and picking up your clothes, setting it on the couch. “After you,” he gestured in front of him, and you led your way into the bathroom.

a/n: i never know how to end these ;-; srry if it was rushed or bad, i don’t know how to properly pace a story. not much of a writer, but the lack of fics igniting smth in my lizard brain.

lmk if u see any typos bc i am NOT proofreading allat😭🙏

[mystic-vibeszz]

now why he mad, also I feel like I made Lore a little short so lmao my bad (ᵕ—ᴗ—) don't come for me...

also sorry for the robot emoji lore, pretend that there's an android emoji out there somewhere~

[axstoria]

Damian Wayne having a school crush on Jon, yet not understanding why he is feeling this way.

His face gets hot, and he finds himself staring at the boy for much longer than needed. He's distracted from his classes, yet, for some reason, he feels perfectly fine when not in the vicinity of his self-proclaimed best friend.

The Kryptonian had cursed him with some magic he had not known about, he swears, pouring over his father's near-infinite research notes for an explanation.

He finds none. Perhaps, it was time for another course of action.

Grayson laughs at him when he explains his ailment, giving him a firm pat on the back and a knowing grin, telling him he'd "figure it out." Whatever that meant...

Todd is—for obvious reasons—skipped, and Drake (sadly) is his next confidant. Nobody knows random illnesses like Drake, especially after that long, arduous period where the boy spent hours in front of the computer researching different viruses in case anyone on any one of his teams fell ill.

Drake looks at him like he is an idiot.

Drake is no longer an option.

He is dumbfounded when his father claps a hand over his shoulder after Damian finished his long rant. The older man only sighs and steers his son to sit on the nearest surface.

"It's that charm, Damian... that damned Midwestern charm."

It suddenly clicked in his head why Father had been so... odd with Superman as of late.

Damian does not want to fall to the same fate, so he starts avoiding Jon at all costs. He switches class periods and stops all patrols where they would be partnered. When the both of them are dragged along by their fathers to meetings, he stays tucked to Bruce's side and refuses to make conversation with anyone.

Jon can't figure out what is going on, and he's starting to think Damian is sick.

[intotheswollenriver]

[elegantolive4332]

yall thinking what im thinking

[bublebunnie]

hamzah x reader moodboard

[cheesecakeluver]

BROTHER'S BEST FRIEND

hamzahthefantastic x reader

When your brother calls you to pick him up from a house party, he forgets to mention his best friend is coming along for the ride.

---------------

I sigh when receiving the phone call, as it had awoken me from my slumber. It was currently 2:43 am, and my completely wasted older brother was whining into the phone, desperate for me to pick him up from this random house party after his girlfriend had left without him. I knew this would happen, deep down. My brother always over drank on alcohol, then came crying to me because i'm the one with a license. Unlike that asshole, i wasn't high when doing my drivers test.

i hung up on him after telling him i'd be there in ten minutes, as i lazily slouched out of my bed and threw a hoodie on. I was only wearing shorts and the grey, slightly oversized hoodie, but if there was nobody to impress, then what did i care. I just had to hope he wasn't overly drunk, causing one of his friends to have to help him to the car.

Grabbing my keys, i quietly made my out of the house, closing the door as slowly and soundlessly as i could to avoid waking my parents, who would kill my brother if they found out he was out this late. Thankfully, my parents always preferred me over my brother, so none of the heat would ever land on me.

When in my car, i carefully pull out of the driveway, looking around at the houses around me, now empty of light at this time of night. When far enough away from my house, i allow myself to lightly play music. "3005" by Childish Gambino comes on, and i hum along to it as i gradually get closer to the house where my brother was. I just had to hope he wasn't going to be sick in my car when i picked up, or i'd kill him.

Soon enough, i take a sharp left and down a long, narrow lane, leading me to a classy, white manor, bright colourful lights and pounding music leaking out of it. I drive even closer, parking in front of it, making sure my brother would know where i was.

People filter in and out of the house, laughing, stumbling, crying, you name it. As i watched the party goers interact with their friends and lovers, part of me yearned to be invited to such gatherings, to be in a social circle as large as my brothers.

I hear a commotion, and see my brother vomiting as he escaped out of the doorway of the manor, causing me to cringe in embarassment, sinking a little lower into my car seat. Another boy, who i recognised as his best friend, Hamzah, was holding him upright, as tears streamed down his face. Jesus, he was a mess. If my parents saw him like this, he wouldn’t be allowed to leave the house.

Hamzah spots me almost instantly, his eyes squinting due to the darkness outside contrasting with the brightness inside, and i wave a gentle hand in the air, calling him over.

He does as i motion, my drunken brother in his arms as he unlocks the car door, throwing him into the backseat. I sigh in relief, thankful he hadn't seen me in my attire. It was bad enough already that my hair was messy, and not a drop of makeup graced my face.

Until, Hamzah opens the passenger door beside me, and slides in, shifting as he started to make himself comfortable. For a minute, i pause, confusion evident on my face as the boy sighed, running a finger through his dark curls, unaware of my state.

He eventually noticed my eyes on him, and turned to me, staring deep into my eyes with his warm brown ones, his cheeks flushed a dark pink.

"Did your brother not mention i'm supposed to be staying are your place?"

No he fucking didn’t.

My mouth gaped open slightly, before i shut it, realising i was making a fool of myself, in front of my brothers best friend.

It's almost a worldwide phenomenon that as a teenage girl, It's not abnormal to have a crush on at least one of your brothers friends, if not all of them. The only thing was, my crush on Hamzah hadn't faded since we were children, and now here he was, sitting dressed up in my car, slightly drunk, with my vomiting brother in the back.

I caught myself on, becoming flustered as i responded quietly.

"Uh, no... he doesn't tell me much these days." i mumbled, ripping my eyes away from his as i turned my attention back on the wheel in front of me, as he shrugged, reaching for his phone.

"It's fine though, i can stay at another friends place. Don't wanna be an inconvienience or anything" He sighed, scrolling through his contacts.

“Wait, Hamzah.. “ i interrupted, a feeling of guilt washing over me.

“Listen it’s fine. I just didn’t know, and was a little surprised.” I spoke softly, my eyes still firmly in front of me, on the wheel, as my fingers nervously tapped against the window to my side.

He buckles his seatbelt, rolling his eyes as he listens to my brother make strange gurgles and bleary whines from the backseat.

“Sorry about him being well..that drunk” He mutters, apologising.

“It’s not the first time” I joke, a small laugh escaping my lips as i start the car, the small engine shuttling.

He laughs quietly, watching my brother wriggle around as he finally becomes comfortable, and lays face down in the backseat.

“I bet it won’t be the last either” He says, smiling softly.

I settle down, my nerves calming as i allow myself to glance at him every now and then throughout the drive. Music still floods through the speakers, making the awkward silence dissipate slowly as the journey continues. Every now and then, when the right song came on, Hamzah would hum along slightly, and my heart would flutter. The only words spoken were those of my brother, and at one point, i just began to drown him out, his moans ruining the moment.

He continues to hum along to the music quietly, sneaking glances at me as my heart pounds against my chest. It was only when my brother would loudly moan and make a fool out of himself that hamzah’s gaze would be broken, his eyes drifting away to look straight ahead instead, leaving me yearning for his gaze.

Soon enough, we pull into our street, and i switch my lights off, not wanting to awaken my parents. Especially not when my brother was on the brink of vomiting again.

Slowing down, i park a couple metres away from the house, and exiting my car, closing the door ever so gently.

Hamzah unbuckled his seatbelt, turning to check on my brother, who was now drooling everywhere, making a fool out of himself.

“Jesus..” He murmur’s under his breath, opening the door quietly and carefully lifting my brother out of the backseat, holding him against his side steadily, making me wish i was the one in his arms.

i shuddered, prying my eyes off of him as i carefully unlocked and unlatched the front door, my heart stopping as it creaked a couple of times.

He grimaced as the door creaked loudly, shifting my brother’s weight to a more balanced position before stepping inside, trying to close the door as quietly as possible, and succeeding, turning around to face me.

I let out a shaky breath, locking eyes with Hamzah, and in that moment, the situation and realisation finally hitting us like bricks, we burst out laughing, covering our mouths and shaking, tears streaming down our eyes.

My eyes still on Hamzah, it was clear he couldn’t help but erupt into laughter at the situation we were in, his laugh becoming louder than it probably should’ve with it being nearly 2AM, he attempts to muffle his laughter while also struggling to hold my brother upright making me cackle even more.

Still with a cheesy grin on my face, i began to tiptoe upstairs, motioning Hamzah, with my brothers fatigued body in his arms, to follow me.

I carefully avoid the creaky steps, and make it to my brothers room, swinging the door open gently, and ushering the pair inside, my brothers eyes fluttering a little, before he becomes unconscious, drool slipping out of his mouth.

“finally” Hamzah sighs, resting my brothers sleeping body onto the bed, throwing a blanket over him, before coming to lean in the doorframe, his large stature rivalling mine, his warm eyes scanning over me.

He stretches his arms, which were now free from my brother’s weight, his biceps curling as he rested his hands on the door.

“I think we can safely say he’s passed out now”

“Oh, definitely. He’s not waking up for another.. two, three days?” i joke, a small, faint blush flooding my cheeks in the dark.

He chuckles quietly at my joke, noticing my faint blush even in the low light, turning his head to nod towards my brother.

“Oh, for sure. You could even scream in his ear and he probably won’t budge” He teases

i smile, containing my laughter. As much as it pained me to depart, i was tired, and in need of my bed.

“I’ll see you in the morning Hamzah”

He nods in response, shoving his hands into his jean pockets, and retreating into my brothers room, his eyes torn away from mine.

“Yeah, goodnight.” He replied, his eyes watching me leave the room and head down the hall to my bedroom.

As i make my way under the covers, kicking my slippers off in the process, i think back on the night, and the events of it.

Never in a million years would i have thought that maybe, just maybe, Hamzah liked me back. But tonight… something happened. Wether it was my delusions, or reality, i knew i would fall asleep soundly tonight, awaiting the morning where i could see him again.

———————-

The light shone through my curtains, brightening my bedroom with a soft glow as the golden sun rays drifted in. As i turned in bed, memories flooded me, and i smiled to myself, knowing that in the room down the hall, my brother wasn’t the only boy.

Yawning, i stumble out of bed, stretching my arms as i grab my phone from my bedside table, and slide my slippers on, ready to head downstairs. Hunger gnawed at my stomach, and i was in need of a good breakfast, especially after being up so late last night.

I exit my room, my feet padding softly against the carpeted hallway. My heart skips a beat once i slip past the room Hamzah resides in, and i smile to myself as i hastily make my way downstairs, entering the kitchen, romantic thoughts filling my head.

Pouring the coffee, i had to wonder if Hamzah was feeling the same way i was. Did he get flustered as often as i did? Did he think of me, as much as i thought of him? Questions raced in my head, and as i add the final ice cube to my coffee, i hear footsteps behind me.

Turning, i see Hamzah, leant against the doorway, eyes scanning over me. His hands were stuffed in the pocket of a hoodie, one i assumed he must have borrowed from my brother.

“Hamzah.. didn’t expect you up this early” i spoke, my cheeks flushing as i checked the time on my phone. 6:27 AM.

He chuckled quietly at my statement, running a hand through his messy curls, trying to look somewhat presentable in front of me, causing me to smile.

“I could say the same to you” He teased

He took a step closer to me, his muscular arms being on full show as he rolled his sleeves up, veins protruding, causing me to nearly melt as i sipped my coffee, placing my phone on the kitchen counter.

He smirked slightly at how flushed i was becoming, his smirk only growing larger as i placed the phone down, my eyes darting up to look at his face.

He leaned against the kitchen counter, right beside me, looking down at me. The closer he got to me, the more he could see the slight blush that adorned my face.

“You seem a little… red” He teased, referring to my heated cheeks, making me want to curl up and disappear.

I smiled, looking away. I would not let this man get the better of me, not in my own home.

He laughed, a hearty chuckle escaping him. “You’re fine, honestly. I’m just playing with you.”

Even though, deep down inside i was feeling queasy, nervous and anxious about this interaction, something inside me calmed as he told me i was fine. It was like my body was listening to him.

My head hung low as the embarrassment and shame hit me, as i realised i was making a fool of myself in front of him. The guy i had liked ever since my brother introduced us. I turned to walk away, needing a breath of fresh air.

He grinned as i attempted to walk away, his hand quickly latching around my wrist, easily pulling me closer to him before gripping my waist, stopping me in your tracks. His chest was touching my back, trapping me between him and the kitchen counter.

“Now, now, where are you going in a rush?”

His touch felt like fire across my skin, lighting it with every hitch.

“My parents will be up soon.. and i need to hide the events of last night” i admitted, my brothers puddle of vomit lying on the floor of my kitchen, five to six metres from me and Hamzah. Other miscellaneous items from the party, such as red solo cups, and a flower chain kay discarded.

He smirked as he looked down at my figure, so close to his.

“Your parents will be up soon, yet here we are..” He muttered, his breath hot against my ear as he continued to speak in a low whisper.

“Then what can we do…” i whispered, breathlessly. I couldn’t believe this was actually happening, after all this time of dreaming, and wishing, and praying for a moment like this.

He couldn’t help but chuckle lowly, seeing how breathless i had become from his touch, his body pressed against mine and his breath on my skin. He slowly leaned down, his lips almost touching the skin of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine.

“There’s a lot we can do..” He whispered, his voice sultry and teasing.

“What the fuck?” a voice behind us yelled. We pull away instantly, our bodies disconnecting due to shock. Turning to see who it was, i sigh, placing my head in my hands.

Of course my brother had to ruin everything.

Hamzah chuckled lowly as he pulled away, taking in my expression as i turned to face my now awake brother, who seemed to walk in and interrupt the moment. He always had to take whatever i had, even if he didn’t want it, and he was doing the same now.

He shoved his hands back into the pockets of his hoodie, turning to look at my brother with raised eyebrows.

“Well, well, look who’s alive” He teased, gesturing to your brother.

“What are you doing with my sister?” My brother asked, his eyes brows furrowed. He better not ruin this moment for me, not for a second time.

Hamzah chuckled at the concern in my brother’s eyes but remained calm, his hands still deep in his hoodie’s pockets. I almost yearned for his hands to be around me. Around my hands. Around my waist.

“Relax, we were just having a.. conversation” He responded unbelievably, raising an eyebrow at my brother’s tone, as if challenging him. Completely dismissing the fact we were flushed and body to body.

“I can’t fucking believe you. Don’t pull this shit with my sister Hamzah. Don’t you fucking do this to me...” My brother continued, anger in his eyes as he began to step closer to Hamzah, fists clenched.

He stayed still, remaining completely calm at my brother’s sudden outburst, unmoving as my brother stepped closer to him.

“And what are you gonna do exactly?” *he teased, a glint of challenge in his eyes as he smirked.

“I’m going to fucking kill you” My brother yelled, lunging for Hamzah.

I knew i should have probably been on my brothers side. They do say blood is thicker than water. But how could i? He was preventing me from doing the one thing i had wanted since i was a little girl. He was preventing me from the one man who i had wanted since i was a little girl.

He dodged out of the way of my brother’s attack, laughing to himself as he easily avoided my brother throwing himself at him. God, he looked attractive.

“You’re gonna kill me? With what? You can barely walk in a straight line” He teased, his smirk only growing as he looked at my brother. struggling to even stay standing without support. He was a wreck, and Hamzah knew it.

He chuckled lowly, a little surprised with my brother’s behaviour, but still calm and collected.

He continued to dodge my brother, watching him stumbling around in an attempt to attack, as i stood by the counter, shocked and slightly overwhelmed at the situation in front of me.

As my brother went on another drunken attack, he took the moment to quickly sneak over to my side, grabbing me by my waist and pulling me to his side.

Quickly and gently, he pressed a kiss to my cheek before backing out of your brother’s reach again, smiling ear to ear, his face flushing dark pink, as did mine.

While it wasn’t what i had been imagining, it was still good enough to give me butterflies, as i watched my brother tell obscenities at him while chasing him with random kitchenware.

“Looks like I should be going before your dumbass brother decides to get up off the floor” He called out, still remaining a safe distance away from my still angry brother, who was furious, and a deep shade of red.

“Well.. call me!” i yelled, grinning as i watched him avoid my brothers grasp, and run out of my house, sprinting down my street as my hungover brother, wobbled behind.

He grinned as he sprinted away, turning his head around to look back at me, a playful smirk plastered across his lips, before he turned back around and continued bolting down the road with my brother still trying to catch up to him in his drunken state.

Watching the pair disappear around a corner, i sighed, content. I knew they would make up. They always did after having stupid arguments. I was aware this one would be a little different, due to the fact i was involved, but i knew it would work out in the end.

Placing my hand to my cheek, i could feel Hamzah’s lingering touch there, filling me with warmth and a sense of hope.

Hope for the future, which, could contain him.

———————-

[kittenlittle24]

Mayfield

Masterlist

As usual GIFs aren’t not mine, comments, likes and reblogs are appreciated

The way you met was quite cliche. You recently moved to live in the same building, you stopped to check your mailbox at the same time he came home from work.

You were minding your business as the building’s door opened and two men entered, a brunet in a suit and tie and a tall salt and pepper-haired man with a cane.

The second man glanced at you with a frown as he fished his keys to unlock his apartment front door and you turned to open your own.

The other man noticed you as well and turned to look at you, he smiled at you.

“Are you new here?”

Smiling you nodded, “Moved here last week.”

The man with the cane stopped his actions and faced his companion, “How the hell would you if she lived here before or not?”

“House, you’ve been living here for the last twelve years, how would I not know your neighbors?”

Smiling awkwardly at them, you averted your eyes to look at the floor.

Reaching his hand to shake yours, he introduced himself and his friend.

“How long have you been living together?” You asked.

House laughed while Wilson shook his head.

They replied in sync, “We’re not gay!” And “Four years next weekend.”

Wilson turned shocked to House and scolded him, you laughed and wished them a good night before entering your apartment and closing the door.

You ran into House a few more times and eventually invited him to your place for dinner. You couldn’t help but be intrigued by him, of course, you couldn’t resist the temptation of looking him up and reading about his reputation, but you still needed to make some new friends.

House didn’t know why but he didn’t seem to mind your presence, you were interesting and clever not to mention attractive.

You didn’t speak about the relationship that was slowly developing between you. There wasn’t a need for it.

It was comfortable, yet still exciting. You shared dinners and alternated between spending the nights at your and his apartments. And so you found yourself sitting in House’s apartment, you were on his couch, glass of bourbon in your hand while he was playing on his piano. It wasn’t an unusual occurrence, in fact, most Friday nights you spent in each other’s company.

“I got a new job.” You shared

He opened one eye and continued to sway gently in his seat to the sound of the piano.

“You heard of Mayfield?”

“The psychiatric hospital?”

You nodded and took a sip.

He stopped playing and turned to sit facing you, “As what?”

“As a doctor there.” You answer as if obvious.

he rested one arm on the top of the piano, “The last couple of months we’ve been inseparable, you should be paying me rent considering how much time you spend here, yet you didn’t think to tell me you're a doctor?”

You shrugged with a cheeky smile and he chuckled before moving to stand in front of you. He held his right thigh as he crossed the room, stopping when your knees were between his legs. He bent down, hands holding on the backrest, effectively trapping you between with his body. Smiling softly at him, your eyes danced between his mesmerizing ones.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and lifted your chin to reach his lips. Kissing him softly. You pulled apart and he sat down next to you, you rested your head on his shoulder and grabbed the remote to put something to watch.

The room was dark, the TV the only light source, and you were lying with your head in his lap, nearly asleep.

“Guess I’ll be seeing less of you,” He murmured, breaking the silence.

Sitting up, you rubbed your eyes tiredly, your eyebrows scrunched together, “It’s a 7 on 7 off. I’ll be here plenty.”

He nodded and reached to move a lock of your hair behind your ear.

Your relationship held surprisingly strong, House wanted it to work which is why he went to Cuddy and admitted that he wasn’t okay.

You were on a two-week long shift, that felt longer, you were tired and missed your bed; you agreed to cover the next week for a colleague who was on vacation. So instead of one week-long shift, you finished yours and started hers.

On your lunch break, you stepped aside and tried to call House. You were a tad disappointed when you got his voicemail, but didn’t think much about it. You tried again before you went to sleep, lying on the stiff, thin mattress in the bunk bed, phone in your hand as you stared at the screen. Perhaps he just turned it off or forgot to charge it, probably turned it off to avoid work, you rationalized to yourself.

You sent a ‘good night’ text for him to see later before putting the phone down and falling asleep.

The alarm clock pulled you out of your sleep, letting out a big stretch before sitting up and checking your phone. First, you checked if House replied but it wasn’t even delivered.

You grabbed your clipboard and made your way to the department you were covering this week. You entered ward 6, immediately welcomed by Alvie who ran up to you, overly excited, to tell you about his new roommate.

“I didn’t know we had a new admission, is he nice?”

He laughed and moved in his spot, “Nope. Not at all. You can call him ‘Heezy.’

“No, you can’t.” A familiar voice stated firmly.

Gently you moved Alvie with a hand on his bicep so you could see the man behind him; your eyes wide open in shock.

“Greg, what are you doing here?”

You pulled him aside to a private room and reached to touch his now short hair, your other hand cupped his cheek softly.

He lowered his eyes, avoiding eye contact, “I was hallucinating from the Vicodin. Dr. Nolan is blackmailing me to stay.”

You nodded, “If you follow the schedule, agree to take meds, participate in group and individual therapy-“

He raised his gaze to look at you and lowered your hands from his face, “I want out of here.”

“It’s not even my department, I’m only covering.”

He closed his eyes and sighed.

You opened the door to leave, turning to him in the doorway, with furrowed brow, “Why didn’t you tell me?” You whispered, your hurt seeping into your words.

He didn’t answer, just lowered his head again.

You rushed down the hallway, you saw House holding Freedom Master’s bloody jacket. You sat beside him in the waiting room at the hospital they were taken to. Nolan called you immediately after getting the news. You looked at your boyfriend, he looked shocked and overwhelmed.

“I need help.” He whispered.

You took a deep breath, stroking his hair and his face, you weren’t sure if you were trying to comfort him or yourself.

“Nolan suspended me until you’re released.”

He looked at you with wide eyes, you’ve never seen him look as afraid as he did at that moment.

You came to visit house every day, he seemed happy you did. He told you no one else has come and that pinched your heart. He was improving and he even told you that his leg hurt much less. You even met Alvie his roommate who told you about the upcoming talent show, which made House very flustered.

You were about to leave, House followed you to the door, his forehead against yours, and he laid short butterfly kisses against your lips.

“Are you going to perform in the show?”

He scuffed and let out a small chuckle as he shook his head.

“I’m gonna come see it anyway.” You decided.

He smiled at you, his big hands cupping your face, his thumbs stroking the apple of your cheeks, “You just want any excuse to see me.”

Grinning, “You’re on to me.” You admitted.

There were about 20 people in the audience watching. Most of the performers were sitting there when not on stage. House was standing in the back, leaning against a wall. His cane is tucked under his arm, his gaze alternating between your back and the stage.

“Ladies and gentlemen. The one, the only, Juan Alvarez!”

Alvie ran from the back of the “theater” to the stage.

“See, we got hidden talents. You don’t see hidden secrets. If we could show you those,” He imitated a record scratching as he stalled thinking for the next line.

He stopped and rubbed his head as he tried to think of the next line.

“Then we wouldn’t have no regrets.” House bailed him out from the back.

You turned and smiled at him widely.

“Wanna know my secrets? Sit back and let me explain it. My Pops split, Mama got sick

Cliché, ain’t it. Now I’m a manic Hispanic. I’m trying to make it work, But the doctors think I’m lazy,” he stuck again he looked at Greg.

“And my roommate is a jerk.” Greg supplied.

“Dr. House is in the house, y'all. Give it up for Dr. House to the stage, y'all. Paging Dr. House to the stage, y'all.”

House waved him off. The audience and you especially clapped loudly to encourage him.

“Are you there, Dr. House it's on. Bring it on.”

House stood up straight and made his way towards the stage. He tossed his cane off stage and got into the rhythm.

As Alvie finished the rap, House nodded a little shyly, acknowledging the applause. He put his arm around Alvie’s shoulder and together they took a bow.

On the way back from Mayfield you stopped to get some groceries, as well as ice cream and snacks to munch on while you spend another weekend on your own. You contemplated between the ice cream flavors, you saw a new tub which was whiskey hazelnut and you couldn’t help but add it to your cart, although you knew you’d never eat it, you just knew that House would love it.

Once at home you finished unloading the groceries and decided to unwind with a glass of wine. Just as you sat down and closed your eyes a sudden loud knock on the door startled you. You opened the door just a crack, enough to see your boyfriend’s familiar face. Grinning wildly as the door hit the wall from the force you opened it and threw your arms around his neck.

Staggering backward with his arms around you, he chuckled and embraced you.

“Nolan gave me a night pass. I have to go back in the morning.”

Smiling, you nodded and pulled him inside.

“I got something for you,” you told him as you got the ice cream and two spoons.

“You didn’t know that I’d be allowed to leave.”

Sheepishly smiling, “It wouldn’t have gone bad in the freezer, it would’ve waited for you.”

He leaned forward and kissed you, not that he’d admit but he was touched by the gesture.

Stroking his face before reaching to play with his now very short hair, “By the way,”

He raised his eyes from the ice cream carton to look at you.

“I hate the new haircut.” You shared, making you both laugh.

[xoxo-jecka]

Ooc: just wanna tell yall i am NOT proshipper safe, yall are weird and disgusting. Do NOT follow any of my ask blogs (this one and Nicole’s)