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dariaslookalike · 2 months

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Building Houses and Burning Bridges Pt 10: Should you suck him or rub him?

Summary:

It seems, oddly enough, that Gregory House lives to annoy you. He takes 'arseholish boss' to the next level. Wake up in the morning, ready to have breakfast, and drive to the hospital where you both work? Nope, you're getting a text that says you're late to his impromptu 4:30 AM meeting where he's had the 'breakthrough of the century' on the team's latest case. Get your hair cut and walk into work, for once feeling confident? Nope, he's saying that he would have done a better job blinded, hands tied and going through Vicodin withdrawals. Finally, 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺, prove him wrong and attempt to wipe the cockiness off his face? Nope, you're simply slow because you didn't get to your diagnosis quicker and weak-willed because you didn't fight him for it in the beginning. Everything House does infuriates you, and it seems everything you do infuriates him. No wonder you end up pinned to the wall of your apartment and groping him like your life depends on. And knowing House, it very may well.

Warnings: Adult language, mature themes, eventual smut, female protagonist, no reference of y/n

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Current Status: Ongoing

Masterlist: Building Houses and Burning Bridges

Next Chapter:

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You jolt awake in the night; a chilly breeze through the window or an odd nightmare that was already fading from your memory. Whatever it was, you thrash against the blanket and suck in sharp breaths of air. You blearily gaze around the room when a shiver creeps up your spine and you find him sitting in the corner armchair.

“You’re a creep.” You croak out.

House raises his glass of bourbon in admission. You can only see the vague silhouette of him lit up by the light drifting in from the street; the glint of his glass, the dark shadows of his brow and cheekbones. You stay like that for a few minutes, gazing at each other. Your eyes gradually adjust to the darkness, and while he sips, you drink in the sight of him. The new stubble lining his face, the whites of his eyes, the curl of his lip.

You break the silence with a quiet question. “How was work?”

You realise it’s dumb as soon as you say it. So much had happened from work to here, where you lay, naked in his bed. You roll yourself over to your side, fully facing him.

House stares at you, and nothing is revealed on the stony plane of his face. “Cameron asked about you.”

You blink. Not like House to avoid the question, but you play into him. “What’d you say?”

His jaw clenches. “I didn’t know what to say.”

You hear his glass clink against the bedside table, and he groans. He shifts in his chair, and you can make out his hands being dragged down his face. His voice is muffled behind his palms, and you squint. “Huh?”

House just groans again, and you’re blinded when he reaches over swiftly and flicks on the lamp. You stop yourself from hissing, and just fling the blankets over your head. Only when you stop seeing white on the dark of your eyelids do you gradually lower it again.

House is staring at you, and while your eyes still sting from the brightness, you appreciate being able to see him. He grinds his teeth. “I said, do you know how annoying that is?”

You blink, stopping yourself from trying to memorise the detail of his neck, and draw your eyes back to his. “What, Cameron asking you a question? Scandalous, I know.”

House scoffs in disbelief, but it doesn’t hold the same bite it used to. It’s softer somehow, here in the pillowy, blanketed expanse of his bedroom. “Even now- Even now, when you’re running on a few hours of sleep and you’re not even fully awake yet, you’re a smart arse.” You clench your jaw as he throws his hands up softly, defeated. “No, no, not Cameron asking. It was not knowing what to say.”

You don’t say anything, and his eyes flick to yours. “I know a lot of things; more than every patient in the clinic combined, more than the snot nosed kids and helicopter parents. But I didn’t know what to say to Cameron.” He leans back in the chair, and scoffs at the ceiling. “I could’ve said your pimp raised your hours or that you were being treated next door by Wilson, and she could go shave her head with you, if she likes. And instead I stood there, and couldn’t think of anything.”

You don’t know how to reply, and he clenches his jaw, blinking away something in his eye, before he takes another sip of his drink.

“House.” Your voice is soft but it still sounds too loud in the sudden silence that envelops you both.

You don’t know how to say it, how to ask. You can feel the words lodging in your throat, trying to bubble out and instead being barricaded inside. So, you shift yourself back towards the edge of the mattress, and raise the blanket up with one arm as an invitation. You see his adam's apple bob and his eyes flick to yours. It’s one thing to fall asleep in the same bed after exhausting sex. It’s another to consciously make the decision to lay with each other- somehow, it felt more vulnerable, more raw, more intimate than what you two had done earlier.

It’s just sex. House’s words from earlier ring out and you can almost see them fluttering through his head right now.

Fine. It’s just sex. You start to lower your arm, rescinding your invitation. But House moves, staring into your eyes all the while, raising himself to his feet and you smile at him. Not a toothy, cocky smile, but a soft one that has your dimple showing.

House groans, his hand whipping to his leg. “Argh!” He’s unsteady on his feet and falls back with a ‘hrumph’ into his chair.

You don’t realise how hard you’re gripping the sheet until you sit yourself up and drag half the bedding with you. “Are you okay?”

House scoffs. “If you call missing muscle and cripple inducing pain okay, then yes, I’m okay.”

You roll your eyes, relaxing slightly. House sees your reaction, and sighs. “It’s just- it’s just a bad pain day. Trying to fuck the shit out of gorgeous women puts a bit of a strain on me.”

You gulp, slightly. “I’ll have to tell that woman off when I meet her.”

House’s breath is sharp and hissing through his nose, but he still manages to scoff. “Don’t do that.”

You can feel your pulse jumping in your neck. “Do what?”

“Don’t sit there and act like some insecure teenage girl who didn’t get asked to prom- you’re gorgeous, and if you pretend you’re not, it makes you look like a gorgeous idiot.”

You laugh, but still feel your cheeks flushing. “House, one time I walked into work, you asked me if a dog chewed me up and spit me back out.” You raise your hands in defence. “I’m not trying to fish for your compliments- I know I’m not the girl in magazines and I’m not like Cameron or Cuddy. I learnt that a long time ago and I’ve learnt to live with it.”

House looks repulsed. “You actually are an idiot then.” You roll your eyes, and he shakes his head in disbelief, still hissing in pain. “Yes, you’re not anorexic or bulimic or some giraffe looking model. And I can’t get enough of you. If you think that I’m not going to compliment you, and tell you truthfully that you’re beautiful, because you weigh more than some pubescent teenage girl beauty standard bullshit, you’re an idiot.”

He’s staring at you from beneath his brow, “Get me a bottle of vicodin from the cupboard, and I’ll show you what I really think about you.” You can practically see the dirty images across his mind. You, pinned beneath him, getting praised and worshipped and adored by House’s depraved self.

Your cheeks are definitely aflame now but you manage to force out a soft laugh. “I don’t know how you managed to say all that when you’re in that much pain.”

As if remembering his pain, House groans loudly, deep from the back of his throat, as his hand rubs over his leg. You try not to focus on the way that sounds make you throb, and you swing your feet over the side of the bed. You see House’s eyes cling to you, to the skin hidden by the bed sheets covering you. You smirk, and simply grab a discarded shirt from the floor, slipping your arms into it. The bedsheets drop, and you hear House inhale sharply at the sight of your bare chest, but then you poke your head through successfully and cover yourself again with the t-shirt.

House’s t-shirt. It’s got some sort of graphic across the front and you vaguely recall it from House’s so called ‘fashion week’ that occurred after Cuddy demanded he wear a doctor’s coat. You slide to your knees in the space between House and the bed, and he shifts his hips slightly towards you.

“Round two?” He asks, smirking down at you.

You laugh, and reach towards the bedside table. “How can you be that horny in that much pain?”

House’s blue eyes track your movements. “It’s one of my many talents.”

You grab the small tube and close the drawer, turning back to House. His eyes flick down to the Deep Heat tube, and trail down you, snagging on your bare thighs. His breath is uneven as he speaks. “How’d you know that I kept that there?”

You look up to him from beneath your lashes. “I’ll be honest- I’ve gone through your entire apartment by this point. I know where you keep your birth certificate, let alone some cream.”

He huffs. “‘Should have expected you to be a detective too.”

“As if you didn’t do the same thing at my place.”

House stares down at you for a moment before he speaks. “You’ve got me there. You found my birth certificate and I found your collection of raunchy pornography, so I guess we’re even.”

You unscrew the lid and squeeze some cream onto your hands. It warms near instantly. “Ha ha. I don’t keep porn, only a box of sex toys.”

Your eyes flick back up at his silence to see House’s hooded gaze as he stares at the apex of your thighs, seemingly entranced, and you shake your head. “Take your pants off, House.”

He blinks, shuddering in a breath. “You don’t have to ask me twice.”

He shimmies himself out of his pyjamas- some flannel pants that you might have called him an old man for another night. But tonight, when he shakes and his leg spasms as he finally strips his pants, you resist.

You don’t comment on his laboured breathing when he leans back against the chair, and you simply scooch closer until you’re enclosed by his knees. His hand reaches forward, threading into your tousled hair and pulling it, gently enough to drag your eyes up to his.

House stares down his nose at you, and you remain like that for a moment, staring at each other. You could stare at him forever, you think. Study the lines of his face and the blues of his eyes for your whole life, the same way a cartographer memorises the planes and the dips of a landscape or a crazed artist obsesses over the cool blue of the ocean. Memorise the notch in his brow or the lines under his eyes or the sharp slope of his cheekbone.

A smile tugs at his lips. “You are gorgeous.”

Your brow crinkles. “Now you’re only saying that because I’m on my knees.”

His hand tightens at the roots of your hair, and his grip is more sharp. “You’ll believe me. Eventually. It’ll take me fucking that insecurity out of you and maybe getting Wilson to join, but it’ll work.”

You laugh, cheeks aflame. “‘You sure you could handle that? Last I checked you hated the idea of me taking on Chase by myself, let alone your buddy.”

His jaw ticks, and you can’t tell if his sharp inhale is his pain or the mention of Chase. “That’s because Chase is a snot-nosed ‘yes-man’.”

You roll your eyes half-heartedly. “Stop with the squabbling and let me work.”

His hand loosens at your head, and you lean forward, gingerly smoothing the cream down his bare leg. House flinches at the touch, and you hear him grunt when your fingers trail over the silvery mass gouged out of his thigh. You work gently, and even softer when the grip on your hair tightens, stinging your scalp, and his breath racks through his chest, leaving him heaving. You massage the heated cream into his skin, working in circles and with both hands, pushing into the surrounding muscle and working it into the silvery scar. When it’s absorbed, and his thigh is warm to the touch, you continue working him with your hands, pushing down on the muscle and easing back in a soft massage.

House swallows above you. “I think this is better than the blowjob.”

You smile up at him, mockingly. “Really?”

His head falls back against the chair, and he groans. You clench your legs at the way the sound makes your core tighten, and focus on ensuring your hands continue to work. “Actually, we should do both to test it.”

You laugh at his hopeless attempt, and his head tilts back down as he looks at you. “How’d you learn this? I’ve had masseuses do much worse.”

You narrow your eyes in a faux-glare, applying more pressure to his thigh. “I thought you knew everything about me.”

His hands abandon your hair, and he runs them through his own hair, his adams apple bobbing as he does so. “There’s always things to learn. I didn’t know what you were like in bed, and now I know you’re a slutty little thing that loves to-”

“I got a certificate in massage therapy,” You cut him off. “While I was studying. It was easy enough and I thought it would come in useful if I ended up flunking out of being a doctor.”

“You? Flunking out? In your dreams- or nightmares, I suppose.”

You shrug softly. “It’s always good to have a back-up plan.”

He chuckles. “By that logic, what was your backup plan for your backup plan?”

“Get a sugar daddy.”

House’s eyes drop to yours immediately, searching for facetiousness. You simply smirk up towards him and lean forward, pressing a kiss to his thigh. Your staple, you suppose. You couldn’t argue against it. Kissing House’s thigh and getting that pupil-blown reaction was worth it. “Did that help at all?”

He blinks. “You can kiss it again and I’ll tell you. Or I have something else you can kiss.”

You ease your massage, now only working softly and lightly. “I meant the massage.”

His blue eyes are soft when he gazes down at you, staring at you appreciatively.. “Yes. Thank you.”

“Do you want me to get you some vicodin too?”

He sighs fully. “I could kiss you, you addict-enabling goddess.”

You roll your eyes, easing yourself to your feet. House leans forward as if shocked by the separation of your hands from his thigh, and you stand between his legs, letting your hands rest on his cheeks. They must reek of the cream, but he makes no move to resist you as you rub your thumbs against his stubble and trace the edges of his face. His shirt falls past the apex of your thighs, but his hands reach forward, slinking under the material and grasping your arse. You gasp, and move closer to him, his face coming closer to your breasts.

He squeezes your cheeks, fingers digging into the supple flesh. He gazes up at you, drinking in your reaction and hiss when his hand slaps against your arse, leaving a stinging sensation and a light, blotchy mark. He does it again, and you nudge into him, gasping lightly. You squeeze your legs together. “That wasn’t a kiss.”

He smirks. “My mistake. I’ll remedy it.”

His hands shift to your hips, gripping them and tugging you down slightly. When you’re lower, one hand reaches up, wrapping around your neck and pulling you towards him. It’s a bit awkward at that angle, but you bring yourself closer, lower, until you’re level with him. He leans forward, placing his lips against yours, and your hands move from his face to run through his hair as he deepens the kiss. He licks against your teeth and you give into him, letting him explore your mouth as his hand threads into your hair, pinning you in place. He’s warm and he’s demanding and he’s House, and you feel your core tighten.

When you pull apart, you rest your forehead against his, sucking in air. “I’ll go get your pills.”

“Forget about ‘em.” He says, trying to drag you back to his lips. You laugh, and pull back, and he lets you step back, away from him.

When you return, and pass him two pills, to which he glares at you mockingly for not bringing him the whole container, you retreat back to bed. You feel his eyes on your bare legs, and especially on the rosy print on your arse. You tug the blankets up and gaze at House as he throws back the pills and groans. He thumbs his glass, finishing the dregs of his drink, and then he lifts his head and stares at you with his cool eyes.

You’re back to where you started. This time, you find the words.

“Come here, House.”

He furrows his brow. “And if I don’t? You’ll… what? Tie me up and make me?”

You roll your eyes in mirth. “Turn the lamp off and come to bed. Please.”

His cool gaze remains on you, and it’s almost calculating- weighing the pros and cons, the possibilities and the certainties of what your request entails. But maybe it’s the light yawn you let out, or the bleary blink of your eyes, or the not so subtle inhale of his shirt. Whatever it is, House’s gaze softens, and he reaches over, flicking off the lamp.

You can’t see anything as your eyes adjust to the sudden darkness, but you can hear him. He still winces when he raises himself to his feet, but the sound is soft and nowhere near his prior pained yelp. He hobbles the slight distance to the bed and there’s the sound of shuffling and twisting sheets and blankets as he gets into the bed.

And then he’s beside you. Here.

You listen to each others breathing, neither one of you saying a word. Your eyes adjust, and you see the shape of him, darkened and identified by the sharp cut of his cheeks and the whites of his eyes. He’s staring at you too, and you wonder how much he can make out in the dark. Does he see the faded scars on your face or the tilt of your lips? Or does he see further, into you, and see all the thoughts and desires and twisted wants filling your head as you stare at him?

House is the first to break the silence, and does so by scooching closer. “Get over here.”

You chuckle quietly at his demand, but obey, shuffling closer until your arm brushes his. “I never took you as a cuddler.”

Somehow, even in the dark you can tell he’s rolling his eyes. But he doesn’t resist your observation, and rather he slips his hand under you, clinging to your back and drawing you even closer. You swing your arm out, to make sure you don’t suffocate in his shoulder, but more importantly to wrap around him too. There’s more shuffling and twisting from the both of you, but eventually, you find a comfortable position. You’re tucked into his side and his other hand rests on your thigh, drawing you leg across his hip. You ask him if that’s alright, if it hurts his leg, if he’s fine, and he scoffs lightly. “My leg won’t ever stop me from having you this close.” As if to emphasise your position, he rolls his hips forward, dragging himself against your bare core. But even House, it seems, is tired, because he relaxes and takes it no further.

Both of your hands are wrapped around his waist, and you nuzzle your face into him, inhaling him and the smell of whiskey, detergent, and House. He laughs down at you, softly. “And you said I was the cuddler.”

“‘Shuddup.” You say, but the word is muffled in the fabric of his shirt. You twist your head, and kiss his bicep where his sleeve has risen up. He swallows, and you get the sense the rise and fall of his rib cage stutters.

You drift off like that, clinging to House. His breathing deepens, and as you fall asleep, you feel him shift slightly, before he kisses your head.

#house md x reader #house md fanfiction #house md #gregory house x reader #gregory house #greg house x f!reader #gregory house fic #gregory house smut

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lanawinterscigarettes · 4 days

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Sweatshirt (Greg House x reader)

Summary: House gets jealous by a certain article of clothing you're wearing

Warnings: petty/jealous House (aka the best kind), heavily implied poly House x reader x Wilson in case that's not your thing, very mild and brief swearing

A/N: based off a random little thought I had. don't ask me when during the show this is supposed to be set because I have no clue

It was missing. Wilson's McGill sweatshirt was missing, and House was very upset. It was his turn to wear it, and although he could've sworn he left it balled up on his side of the bed before he left for work it wasn't there when he returned.

The thought popped into his head that someone might've stolen it, but that was just stupid. After all, who would break into his apartment just to take a sweater?

You, apparently, as he soon came to realize when combing back over his place to look for it. He hadn't noticed it on you at first when he walked in, but now it was hard to miss, like a bright red target painted across your chest.

He almost glared at the way you were casually lounging on the couch, reading a book as if you hadn't stolen from him. "You're wearing his sweater." It wasn't a question, rather a statement, which made sense due to how very obvious the fact was.

You looked up from where you'd been reading and gave him an unimpressed look. "And you walk with a cane. Tell me something I don't know."

The corners of his lips quirked upwards into an amused half smile, but he tried to push his fond thoughts of you to the side for the time being. "You know, it's my turn to wear his sweater."

Letting out a hum, you dropped your eyes back down to the book in your hands and lazily turned the page. "Technically, it's my turn, after you decided to hide it for three weeks so I couldn't wear it."

That was true, he did do that. It was for no reason other than to mess with you, but now he was really started to regret his past decisions, something that rarely happened, if ever.

"You stole it from me, right out of my very own bed," he tried a different approach, putting on a face of mock hurt and offense in hopes of swaying you and getting it back. "Shame on you."

"You stole it from me first." Damn it, you had him there. "I was just returning the favor."

House stood there in front of you for a few minutes more hoping you'd somehow break with no such luck. Sighing loudly, he flopped down in his armchair, giving you a dirty look. "You know, two wrongs don't make a right."

You glanced up from your book, peeking at him from over the top of it. "An ethics lecture coming from you of all people? Well, this oughta be good." Now, it was your turn to be amused, something that didn't bode well with his competitive nature.

Seeing as it wasn't going to happen any other way, he tried a more direct approach in order to get you to give it back. "I want it. I want to wear it. It's mine."

"Technically, no, it's not. It's Wilson's, and I'm borrowing it," you pointed out, appearing unbothered by the evil look getting thrown your way. "Go find something else of his to wear if it's upsetting you so bad."

"I don't want to wear something else, though," he whined obnoxiously, trying to get on your nerves. It was working, but not nearly enough to get him what he wanted.

"Tough, because I'm wearing it right now. You're just going to have to deal with it."

Part of you thought that maybe you'd won this argument when he got up and left the room, but that thought was soon diminished when he came back less than a few minutes later, throwing something at your head.

"Really?" You asked in obvious irritation while pulling the shirt he'd thrown at you off your head.

"Put that on, and give me the sweatshirt back. That way you'll still feel all cozy and close to your doting boyfriends without having to wear that specifically," he reasoned as he stood there, his hands resting on the top of his cane. He looked proud of himself, like he was a little kid who'd finally solved a puzzle.

Despite your annoyance, it was hard to keep the slight smile off your face. Still, you weren't going to let him win that easily. "I'm not wearing it because of sentimental value. I'm wearing it because it's comfortable."

He groaned loudly, becoming visibly annoyed. "Why must you always be so damn difficult?"

"Funny, I could ask you the same question," you muttered as you held up the shirt and took a good look at it. It was one of House's old band tees, which made you realize something. "Hold on, are you jealous because you don't get to wear the sweatshirt, or is it because I'm wearing Wilson's clothes and not yours?"

The obvious pout on his face quickly gave away the answer. "Just give me the sweatshirt now, and I'll promise I'll give it back later." He held his hand out expectantly, resulting in you throwing his shirt back at his face.

"Nice try, but you're going to have to pry this off my cold, dead body." You settled back into the couch with your book as he walked away, grumbling under his breath. It appeared as though you'd won the battle, for now at least.

End notes: I've never written for House before but I tried to capture his personality the best I could! Hope y'all liked the Hilson references sprinkled in lol

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated <3

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#house md #house md imagine #house md x reader #house md fic #house md fluff #house imagine #house x reader #house fic #greg house #greg house imagine #greg house x reader #greg house fic #gregory house #gregory house imagine #gregory house x reader #gregory house fic #gender neutral reader #gn reader

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oldmanffucker · 19 days

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#im sorry these screenshots are SO bad. i hate taking screenshots on PC how do you make taking screenshots less horribly clunky on this thing #house md spoilers #someone should write a fic where wilson goes...well yeah #or link me if that already exists pls #house #text post #house md #gregory house #hilson #james wilson #my post #wilson #house quotes

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clementine221b · 2 months

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one thing that this little gay kitty oncologist is going to do is LIE. even though he knows house will take the extremest of measures to try and find out what he’s upto??? but he can’t help himself?? i don’t understand him but i love him.

#house md #gregory house #james wilson #hilson #hilson fanfiction #hilson fics #honestly i love him #mom i love him #pathological liars #he’s a little confused but he’s got the spirit #he’s so pretty

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killjoy-prince · 2 months

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House M.D. but it's when House says Wilson's name

#house md #gregory house #prince's talk tag #after almost two weeks of going through the transcripts of every episode I finally finish this and the Wilson version #first off thank you to the clinic-duty team on livejournal for making the transcripts for these episodes #because this video would be near impossible to make without their clear transcripts. I hope y'all are doing well #ive been reading a lot of fics with these two and i see how the authors have the characters refer to each other in their fics #and that got me wondering how much do they say each other's name in the show and how do they refer to each other #since this is the house video ill put his stats here #s1 was 19 times s2 was 31 s3 was 34 s4 was 30 s5 was 35 s6 was 58 s7 was 25 and s8 was 28 #in total he says his name 260 times. Mostly refers to him just by Wilson #He's only said Wilson's first name 7 times. Once by Jim 3 by Jimmy and 3 by James #He'll use his full name in professional settings or to be sarcastic or to pretend to be him #You know since House is the main character and in every episode of the show i thought he'd say his name more than him #but Wilson beats him by 42 times bc s7 and s8 he doesn't say his name as much. it took Wilson getting cancer for him to say it more #than he was before that point

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stxrshxpxd · 7 months

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“that’s my girl!”

pairing: dr house x reader

word count: 746

warnings: none

prompt: house can’t stay focused on the case when something more interesting is distracting him, but reader knows how to put up a fight in the vicious bantering and flirting match that ensues

“His BP being through the roof has no connection with his other symptoms. None of it makes sense. There has to be more than one disease,” Chase sighed and stared at House who was leaned back in his chair. He was silently playing with a pen between his fingers and appeared to not be listening, but he was because his eyebrow twitched in response.

“We’re ignoring the obvious,” I said and turned my eyes back to the rest of the group, choosing to ignore House instead.

“Thank you, I didn’t want to be the one to point it out,” he spoke at last with a mock modesty and he quivered his lip shyly, making Foreman exhale a short chuckle at the other end of the table.

“His five family members have all separately attested to his dramatic change in personality the last three days. The problem’s in his brain,” I argued, ignoring House further but being painfully aware of the breath he was taking, preparing to interject again.

“Oh, no, the obvious thing is your blouse having one less button done up than normal,” he corrected matter-of-factly. “I believe Cuddy would think that’s a little inappropriate when you’re working with a twelve year old boy.”

I caught eye contact with him again as I let a deep sigh out, and he stared back at me with a tilted head and mock disapproval written on his face.

“You mean the one sitting next to me right now?” I questioned, giving in to his games. Playing along was usually the quickest way to steer the focus back to the case. House smirked back at me and Foreman spoke next.

“He just wants to imagine Cuddy will storm in here and do your blouse up herself because she can’t stand the idea of House being in the same room as any other woman’s pair of breasts.” He darted his eyes back at House. “Sorry, Cuddy doesn’t care.”

“Foreman, honestly, be professional! We have a dying boy to cure and you want to spend precious seconds talking about L/N’s breasts? Grow up!” House yelped in joking distress and disdain as he leaned over the table, forcing his side profile into my field of view.

“And I was imagining Cuddy unbuttoning your blouse by the way,” House whispered to me shortly. Behind his face I saw Chase give me a subtle look of sympathy.

“You two, go do an MRI on the poor kid’s brain!” House ordered loudly, shooing Chase and Foreman away.

“As for you,” House looked at me. “Mommy- Crap! I mean mommy- Ugh, Momm-“ He cut himself off repeatedly, searching for my name, and at last held his hand up to cover my cleavage from his eyeline.

“L/N,” he exhaled in relief finally. “Go get the parents’ consent for an LP. Bonus points if you do it my way.”

I rolled my eyes with a tired laugh and stood up. His way meant pressuring, lying, manipulating, and anything else in that general area of malpractice.

“Do you hand out bonus points to all of us?” I asked rhetorically and hugged the stack of the boy’s medical records against my chest.

“Only the pretty ones,” he responded and shook his head.

“Chase and me?” I suggested.

“Wilson’s on there too. Have you seen those doe eyes?” House gushed as he stood up and limped his way around the table. I laughed, shaking my head at his ridiculousness.

“You’re in the lead now,” he assured and waved his finger around in front of my cleavage.

“What’s the prize? An extra day away from you?” I joked viciously, tilting my chin up a tad since his tall body had come up close to me now. His intense stare fell heavy on my face.

“The opposite. A night with me.”

“Ohh! So that’s why you and Wilson always arrive together in the morning,” I said and nodded with a playful realisation in my eyes. House only smiled down at me, amused by my firing back at him.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go flirt with a dad so that I can stick a needle in his son’s spine,” I beamed back at him and pushed my chest out before turning my heel and heading for the door.

“That’s my girl! You’ll do just fine. I’ll go ahead and add some points to your score,” House called after me and I laughed and kept walking, rolling my eyes again.

#house #gregory house #house md #dr house #fic #imagine #house x reader

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weird-an · 19 days

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At least one of Wilson's marriages failed, because he moaned House's name in bed.

#your choice but there's a fic lurking in my mind and he's not moaning 'greg'#the great canon #hilson #house md #gregory house #james wilson #house x wilson

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clockwards · 20 days

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truly genuinely fascinating watching s3ep20 House Training with the Wilson stuff. He really is just like that. Hes genuine. He takes women to lunch and plays and museums and does it with a smile on his face and not an ounce of bad intent. And he does it again. And they fall in love because he's so affably kind and senselessly caring and he blinks those big brown eyes at them and lets it happen. He lets it happen. He does know what he's doing. Because he is all about other people's love, other people's pleasure, and just like House he finds some eternal, niggling curiosity about /why/. So he figures it out, he follows this new woman's footsteps and lays out the red carpet until theres nothing left but a thread.

There is one red thread Wilson pulls to make everything and it is connected straight to House. Tug of war, babey.

#im going feral #i want to write fanfiction of them i hate them so much it will be religious and named after a mitski song #do you know how insane i have to be to name a fic after a mitski song?#this affliction hits thousands of ao3 authors every day #never thought id be the one in the medical tent #god. christ. anyway.#house md #hatecrimes md #hilson #gregory house #greg house #james wilson

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dariaslookalike · 2 months

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Building Houses and Burning Bridges Masterlist

Summary:

Warnings: Adult language, mature themes, eventual smut, female protagnist, no reference of y/n

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Current Status: Ongoing

Series Page on AO3

Completed Parts:

Part I: The interview

Part 2: The Proof is in the Pudding. Or the Banana Bread

Part 3: Is he hot, or are you just lonely?

Part 4: Wet Dreams and Taxi Rides

Part 5: Bargains and Balls

Part 6: Chocolate Eyes and Decking Bosses

Part 7: Fever Dreams and Baths

Part 8: Bad Lungs and Choking

Part 9: Losing a Hundred Dollars

Part 10: Should you suck him or rub him?

Upcoming Parts:

Part 11: Untitled

#house md fanfiction #house md x reader #gregory house x reader #gregory house #house md #masterlist #house md masterlist #greg house x f!reader #gregory house fic #gregory house smut #dariaslookalike masterlist #dariaslookalike fic

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irenespring · 26 days

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It is fun putting House on the comfort side of hurt/comfort. He doesn't like it. He's awkward. He thinks he's terrible at it. He hates talking about emotions. Eye contact is his mortal enemy. But he does it. And Wilson thinks he's great.

#house md #hatecrimes md #fanfiction #gregory house #james wilson #hilson #Poor Wilson he's having a bad time in the reunion fic #And poor House he has no idea how to make Wilson feel better #But he manages to guess right #And they live happily ever after because I don't have the constitution for unhappy endings

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marauderingpaige · 3 months

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Can someone please explain to me why there are only 8157 House M.D. works on AO3? Like, that doesn't seem right to me. There should be more. And like, I am certainly working on adding to it, but more people should work to add to it, I think. I need more fics to read. Even if it is just a cute little one-shot, or you posting your fan art.

I think we should work on getting it in the top 20 on AO3, it's doable, certainly, if we all just write random things that could/should be canon, or are canon but also not canon, ya know?

Anyways, I don't know what I am saying, I am exhausted right now, but I hope all of you phenomenal people are having a wonderful day! xx

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sarcasstic-jpmvr · 5 months

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So you’re telling me we’ve got

Doctor Gregory “You call it medical malpractice, I call it poke the bear until it bites me” House

and

Doctor James “I’m gonna watch you poke the bear until it bites you and then I’m gonna carefully clean your wounds while calling you an idiot in the fondest voice known to mankind” Wilson

who basically are two besties who would (2) literally go to jail for each other and (1) commit fake suicide to spend the rest of their lives with each other

and you’re telling me they’re both STRAIGHT????

Istg the last episode (I haven’t seen it yet) feels like an ao3 fix-it bc people couldn’t handle the unresolved tension between our two babys

#so help me god #what in the 2000’s TV show #there is no way #they did all that #only to tell us #that they’re both straight as a ruler #hilson #james wilson #gregory house #wilson x house #house x wilson #ao3 #house md #hilson textpost #ao3 fic

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oldmanffucker · 2 months

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“If a baby was born the day we met, it would be old enough to drink now. Twenty-one.”

“Exactly! House, if you really,” Wilson struggled to grasp onto words, “felt this way, whatever this is, you would have done something before!”

House turned back from the TV now with a dumbfounded look. “Wilson, either you’re a million times more oblivious than previously thought possible, or we need to add amnesia to your list of symptoms.” Wilson responded by looking dumbfounded - puppy dog eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. “We lived together for a long time. We went to cooking classes and met each other’s family. You’re my emergency contact and -”

“That’s what friends do!” Wilson said desperately.

“I’ve made jokes about fucking you or marrying you and everything in between for twenty-one years, and you have never done anything either, Wunderkind.”

“But you were…kidding.” But he said it like a question. Like he didn’t quite believe it himself.

“If that’s what helps you sleep at night, Jimmy.”

(Excerpt from a fic I’m writing :p) (edit: link!)

#text post #house #house md #gregory house #james wilson #hilson #fic #my post

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whorecrux-of-slytherin · 2 months

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Draco Malfoy x y/n (Slytherin Reader) one shot

SUMMARY: Draco relentlessly flirts with y/n even if it annoys her.

WARNING: none other than the fact that this is not proof read.

It was late afternoon after lunch break and Y/n was noting down points on a piece of parchment while professor Prof.Binns went on droning about the 'Medieval Assembly of European Wizards'. Most students find History of Magic to be exasperating but it's mostly because of Prof.Binn's teaching techniques.

Regardless of how boring it may seem, y/n makes it a point to give her 100% in class. She was concentrating so sincerely that she failed to notice a certain platinum haired boy glancing her way every few minutes. As the class went on, Prof. Binns decided to halt the lecture to let the students read and review the material before proceeding further . As she continued to read through her textbook, a charmed paper swan flew over her head and landed right on the page she was reading. She looked up and around to see who levitated it towards her and saw the group of infamous Slytherins laughing- Malfoy, Zabini, Parkinson , Nott, Crabbe and Goyle. She immediately knew it was their doing. Draco was waiting for her to look in his direction and now that she did he winked at her and shouted across the class " go on darling, read it" ; only for his friends to howl and make funny noises. Y/n got irritated so she rolled her eyes at him and grabbed the paper swan to crush it into a paper ball and chuck it at him. Soon the class ended but only after Prof.Binns had given them an essay as homework.

Y/n slung her bag on her shoulder and carried her extra books with her arms & exited the classroom to head to the courtyard since it was her last lecture of the day. Draco immediately followed her out of the class to catch up and annoy her. "Uff, that looks heavy; lemme carry them for you sweetheart" he tries to snatch the books in her arms. Y/n gets irritated " Don't you have somebody else to bother Malfoy?". "Actually, I do but you're far more interesting and also pretty cute to look at" he replies with a grin and tries to snatch her books again. This time y/n stops in her tracks and pulls Draco down by his tie to look into his eyes "Back off Draco". This makes him grin wider and he lets out a whistle while looking her up and down " ooh... feisty". Y/n blushes at the action and immediately releases his tie and walks away while Draco just stands there grinning like a fool in satisfaction.

Later that night y/n entered back in the Slytherin common room after having finished with her dinner and decided to sit on one of the couches near the fireplace. She was reading a magazine that she found on one of the coffee tables when she felt the couch sink beside her and an arm around the back of the sofa where she sat. She immediately recognised who it was just by the smell of expensive cologne. " What do you want now Malfoy?" she said without looking up from the page. "What? Can I not just spend some time trying to make acquaintances with fellow house mates?" he mockingly replied. Y/n decided to ignore him altogether and Draco got the hint but he wasn't satisfied with the interaction just yet, so he started to play with her hair. This made y/n's blood boil and she swatted his hand away and he let out a chortle. "You have nice hair" he said. "Oh why thank you Mr.Malfoy. It's an honour to get complimented by the ferret boy with slimey hair" she replied with a sarcastic smile. Draco pulled a face at this but laughed it off. Y/n shut the magazine and stood up and walked towards the stairs leading to the girl's dormitories when she heard "Goodnight darling!". She turned the corner as she secretly smiled at his antics and yelled back "Goodnight ferret boy!"

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Thanks for reading! 🤍

Sorry for any grammatical or spelling errors, this is not proof read 😅

Do like, share and comment your thoughts down below 🤔💭

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