#house m.d. x reader

[y13evie]

Hi so I saw that you are open to write for house md and I'd like to ask for a chase fic. Like reader is house's kid and either works at the hospital too or gets admitted there but also knows chase and is in a relationship with him. Plot can be fluffy, smutty and/ or angsty I don't really care but I'd like to know how house would react if he sees them interact etc.

Idk if you see this or like the idea but I wish you the best and I really like your fics

hiiiiii anon!! i love this idea sm and i LOVE ROBERT CHASE WITH MY WHOLE HEARTT. dad house is so sweet and cutesy. i tried my best for u

tags: robert chase x houses kid! reader, one use of y/n, house is stubborn but loves u, just fluff

this is embarrassing. never in your twenty-five years of life would you imagine yourself in the hospital that both your father and boyfriend work at. yet here you are, with a 4 cm laceration on your right hand. the triage nurse had just sent you off and notified you that a doctor will be with you shortly. from your room window you could see dr foreman patting a familiar face on the back, probably saying something along the lines of “this case is yours bud”.

as soon as chase read the report he hurriedly rushed into your room. you shot him a sheepish grin and lifted up your hand to reveal the gash.

“my god, y/n”, he sat down next to you and took your hand gently into his gloved one and inspected the wound. he looked up at you, as if asking for an explanation.

“maybe i shouldn’t garden alone. i picked up this clay pot. the way it was sitting had been bothering me for a couple days now. i’m guess i’m not as strong as i thought i was because i dropped it and as it shattered, it cut me up pretty good.”

chase sighed at your stubbornness, something that had drawn him into you since early in your relationship. he took one of his gloves off and gently stroked your hair. he rambled on about how you should really be more careful and call him if you needed anything too laboring done. you weren’t listening. you were staring into those blue eyes. you weren’t into all that cheesy romance stuff but god, those eyes are stunning. your moment was quickly put to an end when harsh tapping could be heard from outside your window. you knew that sound from anywhere.

“you decided to be the one to doctor on MY kid”

house, or dad as you call him, hastily shuffles into your room and gives you both a judgemental look. robert rolls his eyes,

“foreman gave me the case first, i'm just doin’ my job”.

house hobbles over to check your vitals even though it’s a minor issue compared to what they deal with on a daily basis. you know your dad loves you and cares but he’s not the best at verbally expressing it. you knew he would probably just sit there and observe, so you turn back around to your extremely, worried boyfriend.

“soooo” you drag out the ‘oh’ sound, to show him you’re not worried. “whatcha doin after work handsome?”. chase runs a hand through his blonde hair and lets out a long, exasperated sigh.

“i was planning to go on a cute and sweet date with you, but instead i’m gonna be dr. chase for another 12 hours”.

he sounded tired but you knew he was more than happy to care for his darling. just as you two were planning out your evening, your father and robert’s pagers began harmonizing. chase gives a quick but passionate kids to your temple. house makes his gag be known, sticking a finger in his mouth for dramatic effect.

your dad lingers in the room for a moment, giving your shoulder a squeeze. it’s still gonna take time for him to adjust to the fact his child is dating his co-worker. but you’re not his little baby anymore and he knows it.

when he heads out his parting words are,

“i’ll have someone stitch you up kid, stay put”.

you lean back in the bed and continue to add pressure to your wounded hand. a few minutes pass and your sweet boyfriend stops by again. and takes a seat at the stool beside your bed. he has the tools to stitch up your hand. to distract you from the pain, chase sparks a conversation.

“your old man..” he chews the inside of his cheek. you know exactly what he’s gonna ask. “does he like me? and not as a co-worker. does he think i’m a good fit for his kid?”. your heart sank at the thought of robert thinking he’s not enough. truth is, your dad did like him. though he would never admit it, the fact robert makes you happy, makes your dad happy. he’s real bad at showing it, but you know it’s true.

“he’s a grump, chase. he likes you. he might never admit it. but the fact he hasn’t beaten you to death with that cane of his really says something.”. you can tell your reassurance helped. you loved robert, and he loved you too. before you knew it the stitches were finished. he pulled out a sling from a cabinet so you won’t irritate the stitches too much.

“hey, i’ll get your discharge papers. we’ll have you out of here soon”.

chase pressed a kiss to your lips this time, and he stayed there for a minute. hand on your jaw to keep you steady. you moved your lips in unison, running your free hand through his hair. a sharp pain stabbed your hand and caused you to pulled away and gasp. he reminded you to take some pain medication once home.

before he headed out the door, robert whips around and sternly demands,

“i don’t ever wanna see you in here again.”

#house md x reader #house md #robert chase x reader #robert chase #robert chase x you #house m.d. #house m.d. x reader #reqs open #i love robert chase #he’s so baby girl i love him #this idea is so cute anon

[thinkingaboutbetterdays]

looming parenthood. ( gregory house x reader )

gif belongs to me

The singular lamp lit his office when you entered while the minutes ticked by into the early hours of the morning. House looked up, his pinky finger against his lips as he reviewed the files, removing his glasses as he met your gaze.

It was difficult at times to know when to act as your boss, or your boyfriend during a case that was troubling you, especially now that you were pregnant. From your pacing, he deduced you needed both, and knew you needed assurance and comfort after a conflicting case.

"I didn't tell him." Your eyes burned from unshed tears as your body ran on caffeine, wearing a hole in the carpet of his office.

"In cases like this, it's difficult to know whether to listen to your head or your heart. Your brain said she's better off not knowing, and your heart is saying she needed to know. Following your heart is easy. Following your brain is tough." He removed his glasses as he spoke and you lowered your gaze to the ground, nodding softly.

House knew if he didn't act soon it would be one more sleepless night. "A case like this...it's hard to know what the right choice is." He began, "But you made the right one."

"Did I?" A tear fell down your cheek and he used the balls of his feet, pushing himself away from his desk.

"Come here." You crossed the room, settling on his lap and his arms brought you closer, your head resting on his shoulder as your tears fell. "A life filled with nightmares or a life filled with blissful ignorance. What would you prefer?"

"What's the context?" You spoke up a few moments later, feeling his chest vibrate as he chuckled.

"You know what the context is." His lips pressed against your forehead and you closed your eyes as he lingered, seeking the comfort he offered.

Greg rested his cheek against your hair, as your tears fell silently on his shirt. There were many sides to Gregory House, but this was one side he reserved purely for your eyes only. And it only made you question your future further. "I'd make a horrible mother."

"Now, you're just babbling nonsense."

You lifted your head, meeting his gaze, "What chance would our child have?"

Silence filled the office as your tears fell and you wiped them on your lab coat, believing this was one fact he could not argue against, but his tone held absolution when he finally spoke, "They're the luckiest kid in the world and they don't even know it."

"They're not even ten weeks old and their mother would rearrange the stars if it made them happy." He added moments later, causing you to lift your head to meet his gaze. "You're already a mother. You have been for a long time now. A mother without a baby. You should spend less time worrying about being a mother and focusing more on the father."

You knew his doubts about fatherhood and saw the fear in his eyes when you broke the news one night in his apartment. But you knew he would be a great father. Even if he didn't believe it. He knew more about the harsh reality of the world you lived in than you did, and he was wiser, if more cynical, than anyone you knew, but you knew there was plenty of love left inside of him - all the proof shown from loving you when he swore off relationships that didn't involve prostitutes.

You placed a hand on his cheek, smiling softly when his eyes closed as your thumb swept across his cheekbone. Your lips met his and the noise outside the office drifted away. His hand rose to your neck, another bringing your waist closer to his body as the kiss deepened.

The future was uncertain. A case like this left you questioning everything you thought you knew and he was the only one who gave you the one thing you reminded him of when he believed he had forgotten it long ago - hope. As long as you were together, you always sought a brighter future, even when the scars of the past seemed like they happened yesterday.

And as you looked down at his hand that rested on your fourteen-week pregnancy bump, you knew that your child would be given everything you both craved and would never question the love or dedication of their parents. And a case like this reminded you of how lucky you were to have Gregory House by your side, to promise that the grass was greener on the other side - even if he was a well-known sceptic.

As his lips pressed against your forehead, you were certain of one thing. As long as you had him by your side, you could survive anything.

#gregory house #gregory house x reader #greg house #greg house x reader #house m.d.

[bellarkeselection]

Is there anybody on here who writes requests for House M. D...???

Because I have requests I would like to send in

#house m.d. #greg house x reader #gregory house imagine #gregory house x reader #gregory house #robert chase x reader #robert chase #house x reader #greg house x you #james wiseman #allison cameron #eric forman

[sstrxnges]

Where are all the Greg House x Reader fics? 😿

#greg house #greg house x reader #Greg house smut #dr. house x reader #house m.d. #gregory house x reader

[sentinelpri]

Burnt Out

Working at Princeton-Plainsboro Hospital is brutal, to say the least. As the head of the cardiology department and a member of Gregory House’s diagnostic team, your job is not only hectic but also underappreciated. You spend most of your days cycling between helping your patients, helping your coworker’s patients, pouring over paperwork, being scolded by Cuddy, and being shat on by House, who insists that you stay on his team while constantly dismissing your ideas and implying that you’re an idiot like he does with damn-near everyone else he works with.

So, yeah. Life is great.

Currently, you’re sitting in the diagnostics conference room at the corner of the table. Chase, Cameron, Foreman, and Wilson are also sitting with you. Meanwhile, House is standing at the whiteboard, bouncing his tennis ball with one hand and using the other to write down your most recent patient’s symptoms.

“Eleven year old caucasian female, admitted two days ago after falling unconscious during her first ever track meet. Her family’s medical history is totally clean from what we can tell and she’s had no problems prior to this, though they seem to be way behind on taking her and themselves to the doctor for regular visits. However, since being admitted, she’s only displayed more symptoms and seems to be getting worse,” House explains, seemingly unenthused. You wouldn’t be surprised if he’d already figured it out. He likes to do that- to pretend that he has no idea what the patient’s affliction is and then rag on everyone else for not being able to figure it out. “So far, we’re dealing with high blood pressure, a one hundred one degree fever that refuses to break, hives, bloodshot eyes, and swelling across her entire body.”

“Rheumatoid arthritis?” Cameron suggests, eager to be the first one to get at the new case. “I know she’s young, but she could’ve developed it early and had it go undiagnosed.”

“Before we start discussing the possibility of chronic diseases, shouldn’t we test for strep and scarlet fever?” Chase questions. “If her parents are so bad about getting her medical care, it could have just been a minor illness that’s developed into this.”

“What about you two? (y/n), Foreman?” House pipes up, calling the two of you out since you’ve been totally silent since he started. You can’t help but notice that he doesn’t do the same to Wilson, who hasn’t said anything either. “Nothing to say?”

Foreman shrugs.

“This isn’t my ballpark. I’ll let you figure it out, House. I’m sure you’re just playing with us anyway. Compared to the last few cases, this seems like child’s play.”

Seemingly satisfied with that answer, House turns to you.

“And you?”

“Kawasaki disease? She has some of the symptoms,” You half-heartedly answer.

“Just because you’re a cardiologist doesn’t mean that every patient that comes through these doors has a heart disease, you know,” House scoffs with a roll of his icy blue eyes. “And she only has some of the symptoms for that. She doesn’t fit into the main demographic for it either. That’s the worst answer I’ve gotten out of you for a case all month. Are you even trying anymore?”

When House first hired you, you were excited- always trying your best and working after your already long hours to solve cases. As the years have gone by, though, you’ve lost your enthusiasm and frequently find yourself dreading the mornings where you and House’s paths have to collide. You know he’s only so cruel because he has problems of his own and because he has a motive (just like he has a motive for every other crazy thing he likes to do), but the fact that he picks on you so often when all you’re doing is trying your best gets under your skin.

A couple years ago, you might’ve tried to argue back with him. Now, all you can do is avert your eyes and stare at the table as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world. You’re praying for a hole to just appear underneath you and suck you into the vacuum of space- or at least for everyone to continue chatting until the embarrassing situation is long forgotten- but instead, Cameron pipes up to defend you. 

“Dr. House, was that really unnecessary? They’re trying their best and you’re being needlessly cruel.”

“What, are you jealous that I’m paying more attention to them than I am to you?” House snarks back at her. You hold your head in your hands and sigh. “Because next time, I can include you, too. Now do any of you have any better ideas than the crap you’ve just given me or am I going to be handling this case by myself?”

With that, the meeting continues. House ends up deciding that he’s going to order labs to see if the patient has strep or scarlet fever before doing anything else, leaving you to finish out your work day. 

You rush out of the office the moment he dismisses you all. Cameron tries to catch up to you to ask if you’re okay, but much to your relief, Chase stops her and tells her that you probably just need your space. You rush to your office, shut the door, sit down in your chair, and- for the first time in a long time- bawl your eyes out. 

House being a dick to you is typical, but on top of everything else that you have to deal with at your job, it pushes you over the edge. With the ungrateful patients, admin, and coworkers, the long hours, the physically and mentally draining work, and all of the drama that happens in the hospital, it’s almost impossible to keep going. The only thing- or, person- that makes it somewhat worth the turmoil is your partner, James Wilson, who you’ve been dating for some months now.

He’s a great comfort to you, and he’s always kind, unlike a lot of the people you find yourself surrounded by at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Your relationship is surprisingly healthy despite the amount of problems between the two of you. You don’t want to miss out on more time with him than you already do, though, so you find it hard to quit or even ask to be moved off of the diagnostics team. 

Conflicted and tired, you bury your head in your arms and cry even harder, glad that the walls are soundproof until you hear the sound of your doorknob turning.

And that’s when you realize that you forgot to lock the door.

You pop your head up, tears still covering your cheeks and welling up in your eyes. You probably look like shit and your partner has just walked in to see said display.

There, right in front of you, in the entryway of your office, stands James Wilson, looking at you like a deer caught in the headlights. The worst part is that you’re sure you’re looking at him the same way. The happy expression he walked in with has fallen completely.

“Did I come at a bad time?” He tentatively asks.

“No, sorry,” You answer and rush to wipe your tears away. You try to make yourself look presentable, probably to no avail considering the look of disbelief that James shoots your way. “What do you need?”

“Are you sure? I can leave if you want-” James starts and steps back towards the door.

“Don’t,” You interject, shaking your head. “Please. I know we’re at work right now, but…”

James sighs, then shuts and locks the door behind you. He quickly approaches your desk and sits on the edge of it, facing you.

“House really got to you today, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, I guess he did,” You shrug. “I don’t even know what to do about it anymore, James… I’m considering just quitting and going somewhere else. I feel so burnt out. It’s not even just House, it’s everything else, too. He’s the least of it.”

James nods.

“...I understand.”

“Do you really?”

“Well, maybe not in the exact same way. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t notice that House is a little less harsh on me than he is on the rest of you, but him and I have been friends for a long time. He knows what I’m capable of. The only reason he pushes your buttons so much is because he’s testing to see what your limits are. In a weird sort of way, he’s trying to get to know you,” James explains, though both of you know that isn’t much of a comfort to you. “I’m sure things have been difficult for you lately. You do a lot, and it goes unappreciated, but I promise you that you’re doing a good job and that there are people who appreciate what you do.”

At that, you smile. You don’t feel completely better, but the weight on your shoulders does feel a little lighter.

“Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

“I love you,” James says.

“I love you too.”

Hours pass. You work on paperwork while James responds to patient emails for you. The two of you knock out most of what’s been piling up on your end, much to your relief. You try not to think about the fact that James has probably neglected a lot of his day’s duties to help you out with this. 

“Should we head out?” You ask, looking at the clock.

“Probably… It is getting pretty late.”

Just then, the doorknob turns, only to go back since James had locked it just moments before. A second later, you hear obnoxiously loud knocking. Wilson goes to open it. Standing there is House, who’s holding a stack of papers.

“All the other tests came back negative. You were right,” House admits, looking straight at you. “It’s Kawasaki disease. Good job.”

Then, as fast as he came by your office, House leaves, just as elusive as ever- and all you and James can do is laugh.

#james wilson x reader #House #house md #House M.D. #House M.D #gregory house #reader insert #self insert #gender neutral reader #oneshot #oneshots #fluff #drabble #drabbles

[v-o-i-d-e-d]

Request rules and Character list

Hi! Welcome to my blog!

~here are a few rules~

I don't write:

non-con

anything to do with piss

large age gaps/ageplay

smut for characters under 18

crossover au

Fanfiction of real people

mlm relationships (it's not my place to write what I haven't experienced)

Incest (this includes anything to do with stepsiblings and stepparents)

Please don't:

harass me about my writing/schedule

critique my writing without permission

repost my writing (reblogging is okay and encouraged)

Characters/fandoms I write for:

Titanic (1997)~

Jack Dawson

Rose DeWitt Bukater

OUAT~

Emma Swan

Regina Mills

Killian Jones

Peter Pan

Henry Mills

Supernatural~

Dean Winchester

Sam Winchester

Castiel

Gabriel

Marvel~

Loki

Thor

Doctor Strange

Tony Stark

Bucky Barnes

Steve Rogers

Natasha Romanoff

Yelena Belova

Kate Bishop

Peter Parker (All three of them)

Wade Wilson

Wolverine

Peter Maximoff (Pietro only by request if I feel like it. I don't like him that much)

Star Wars~

Han Solo

Luke Skywalker

Leia Organa

Rey Skywalker (Argue with the wall)

Kylo Ren/Ben Solo

Poe Dameron

Anakin Skywalker

Obi-Wan Kenobi

Ashoka Tano

Din Djarin

Cassian Andor

Jyn Erso

Star Trek (The JJ Abrams version)~

James Kirk

Spock

Pavel Chekov

Dr. Leonard McCoy

Khan

House M.D.~

Gregory House

Allison Cameron

Robert Chase

Doctor Who~

10th Doctor

11th Doctor

Amy Pond

Clara Oswald

River Song

The Hunger Games~

Katniss Everdeen

Peeta Mellark

Finnick Odair

Haymitch Abernathy

Young Coriolanus Snow (don't start with me)

Johanna Mason

Harry Potter~

Harry Potter

Ron Weasley

Fred Weasley

George Weasley

Hermione Granger

Remus Lupin (Mauraders and Golden Era)

Luna Lovegood

Neville Longbottom

My Babysitter's a Vampire~

Benny Weir

Ethan Morgan

Rory Keaner

Erica Jones

Sarah Fox

Top Gun/Maverick~

Pete Mitchell

Bradley Bradshaw

Jake Seresin

Gilmore Girls~

Lorelai Gilmore

Rory Gilmore

Jess Mariano

Miscellaneous~

Indiana Jones

Yancy

Wilford Warfstache

Darkiplier

Marty McFly

Ferris Bueller

Cameron Frye

Malcolm Bright/Whitly

~this is just a preliminary line up and more characters will be added~

All my works will use feminine descriptors and pronouns unless specified in the request. Feel free to send in a request and I'll be sure to get to it as quick as I can!

#titanic #jack dawson x reader #Rose Dawson x reader #OUAT #Pater pan x reader #top gun fanfiction #markiplier egos #wilfordmotherlovingwarfstache #marty mcfly x reader #indiana jones x reader #ferris bueller's day off #bradley bradshaw x reader #Harry Potter x reader #Doctor Who #house m.d. #star trek x reader #spock x reader #Star Wars #obi wan x reader #Marvel #tony stark #kate bishop #gilmore girls #jess mariano x reader #Supernatural #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #prodigal son #malcolm bright x reader #malcolm whitly x reader

[wilson-the-gay-oncologist]

#james wilson x reader #hate crimes md #i like being autistic #james wilson #hilson #gregory house #house m.d. #house md #house md edit #greg house #house x wilson #robert sean leonard

[gregorywhorehouse]

Regret

House x Wilson. 400 words. Angst.

House is helping Wilson go through chemo at his own apartment. Wilson questions why House has done any of this for him. House opens up, and regrets having waited so long. He'd do anything for Wilson. Link to Ao3

"Am I dead?"

"Not yet."

Wilson blinks. The pain seething through his body. House has his hand on Wilson’s shoulder. The confusion lingers.

"Are you okay? Besides the pain vomiting and diarrhea?"

Wilson falls back down to lay on the sofa. Groaning through the aching pains and burning sensation under his skin. He closes his eyes.

He lays there, eyes squeezed shut, trying his best to ignore all of the shit his body was putting him through.

House shifts in his seat. His leg was aching, he needed to get up and move.

"Why…" Wilson sputters out. His mouth is dry.

"Why what?" House mutters. Groaning as he gets up from the chair and saunters into the kitchen.

"Why… are you doing this… f-for me?" Wilson mumbles. It's quiet, his voice weak. But Greg still hears the words.

"What do you mean?" House questions loudly, over the sound of the tap running.

He walks back to the sofa, rubbing his leg with one hand and holding a glass of water in the other. He hands the glass to Wilson who is now sat upright. The pain on Wilson’s face isn't subtle. His jaw clenched, one eye squinting and eyebrows pulled together. House hands him the glass.

"What could possibly be better than watching my best friend killing himself on my couch?"

A huff leaves Wilson’s mouth. House can only guess it was supposed to be his usual sarcastic laugh, but yeah, pain tends to disrupt any intended tone.

"House, this…" Wilson takes a long breath. It's hard on him, there's a slight groan as he exhales, pain. 

"It's nothing."

"It's not-gaaah!!!" Wilson grabs at his chest, clutching the stained sweatshirt. The pain is obviously unbearable as it stops him continuing and steals away his strength.

"James…" House looks down at his own hands. The way they strain and grip his knees as he uses Wilson first name. "There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you."

He looks up, expecting to meet the other man's eyes. But Wilson had already passed out again.

House wipes the sweat off Wilson’s brow with his palm. His thumb lingering over the man's forehead, maybe a little too long, before he brushed the hair back off Wilson’s face.

The chair creaks as he leans back into it. He covers his face with both hands, rubbing at the skin and then running them down to his neck, that self comforting motion he always does when frustrated.

Authors notes: A scene I imagined for when Wilson is doing chemo at House's apartment. I just love angst and sad old men so much. Could do with more cleaning up but today is the anniversary of the pilot being aired, so now is as good a time as any to share. I hope you enjoy my first time writing these idiots in love. Thank you for reading <3

"Just wish I'd told you that sooner." He lets out a long sigh. "Wish I told you a lot of things…" 

~~~

#house md #house x wilson #hilson #greg house #gregory house #james wilson #oh hilson my beloveds #house m.d. #wilson x house #first time writing for these idiots #also first time writing a ship that isnt a reader insert #so i hope its okay #tw cancer #also please let me know if theres any tags I have missed

[zepskies]

Devour Me - Part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized/Latina!Reader 

Summary: When you and Dean start to press each other’s buttons, both of your tempers ignite. To make up for it, you give him an impromptu salsa dancing lesson…one he didn’t exactly ask for. (18+)

AN: This is a two-part sequel to “Midnight Espresso!” I would read that one first before you dive into this one. (It’s fun, I promise!)

Word Count: 3,800 Tags/Warnings: Supernatural shenanigans, tiny bit of body insecurity, hurt/comfort, fluffy fluff, and a cliffhanger...

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

Part 1: "A Takeover"

When Dean asked you to move in with him, he really didn’t think it would come to this.

Clearing a nightstand for you, half of the dresser, a section of his closet. Those things are reasonable. 

But this is a total takeover, he thinks, as he surveys the sheer amount of crap you’ve brought into his room.

Mind you, despite this still being a bunker, the décor is nice. You brought in sturdy, but stylish wicker baskets for his pile of cassettes (and your CDs) next to the TV, filing bins for the haphazard shuffle of papers on his desk, installed dark wood shelves on the wall for his various weapons and your collection of books. 

But he’d had his music organized—not alphabetically or chronologically, but by his own personal rankings of awesomeness. Now they’re all shuffled together by band name. 

Plus, he likes having his shotgun on the floor by the bed, within reach, not three feet above his head. And where the fuck is his collection of…magazines?

The point is, every time he looks for something, you’ve put it in a different place. Not to mention the damn bathroom (don’t get him started on all your shea butter lotions, makeup brushes, frilly-smelling soaps, and the army of hair products now taking up space in his cabinets and drawers). 

Dean is sitting on the edge of the bed, trying to figure out where the hell his cassette of Zeppelin IV is, when you breeze into the room he now shares with you. You’re dewy with sweat in a Guns & Roses shirt and some yoga pants you reserve for cleaning. 

And that’s another thing. You’re more anal than Sam about having the bunker smelling like Pine Sol. However, as you’ve expressed before (after nagging him to pick up his dirty, and occasionally bloody clothes from the floor), while you like a clean house, you are not in fact the maid.

“Hey, baby. Can you fold these for me?” you request. “I need a shower.”

He raises a brow as you dump a new basket of fresh laundry onto the bed. It looks like you washed your clothes mixed in with his, which he actually doesn’t mind. He fishes out one of your red, lacey thongs with a hint of a smile. He bought you these last week, and they already have a tear. (His fault.)

“By the way, next time you move one of my things, mind leaving me a post-it note or something?” he dryly remarks. “It’s like a scavenger hunt in my own damn room.” 

You pop your head out of the bathroom, though he can tell by your bare shoulders that you’ve already gotten undressed. Your mouth is quirked at the corner. 

“It’s called organization,” you tease. “Apparently a foreign concept to you.”

You disappear back into the bathroom, giving Dean the privacy he needs to grumble almost inaudibly to himself. But then he hears your voice behind the door.  

“Oh, by the way. Your vintage collection of smut is in the bottom of your nightstand,” you call out. “That 1996 edition of Busty Asian Beauties is particularly classy.”

Dean hears the wryness in your tone, and his face actually heats up in embarrassment. He frowns at the bathroom door, his jaw tensing, but he takes a breath. Deciding to let it go with a roll of his shoulders, he puts on the TV to catch up on Dr. Sexy M.D. He also neglects the task you gave him, just for a little while.

When you’re still in the bathroom an hour later, Dean starts to get curious about what the hell you’re doing in there. The shower isn’t even running anymore.

That’s when he hears the hairdryer go on. 

He knows he’ll never be able to concentrate on his show with all that noise. So with a sigh, he clicks off the TV and eyes the pile of laundry. You probably cleaned the whole freaking bunker this morning. Despite his annoyance, he figures folding your clothes along with his own is the least he can do. 

Dean scoops up the pile back into the basket and takes it elsewhere. 

He finds his brother at the kitchen table and joins him with his basket. Sam’s gaze raises from his laptop to meet his brother’s grumpy face. He watches in mild curiosity as Dean plops down across from him and dutifully begins folding one of your shirts. 

“You okay?” Sam hazards the question. 

“Fucking peachy,” Dean replies. “Looking for a new case?”

“Yeah. Nothing yet.” Though Sam raises a brow when Dean all but tosses one of your girly sundresses on the table after it’s folded. (It’s yellow, and it happens to be his favorite on you.)

“Everything all right?” Sam asks. 

Dean glances up, finds his brother’s knowing eyes, and doesn’t have it in him to lie. He lets go of a breath, as well as one of his undershirts to rub at his forehead. 

“She’s nosey, Sam. She’s all up in my business.”

“Your girlfriend?” Sam clarifies, with raised brows. “Of six months.”

“Yeah, that one,” Dean quips, with all due sarcasm. “Ever since she moved in, she’s been going through everything, moving my crap every which way, making it so I can’t find a damn thing.”

Sam’s mouth edges at a smile. 

“I’m tellin’ you, Sam, she’s damn near taken over,” Dean insists. 

“You done?” Sam teases. Dean just leans in, like he’s about to level his brother with a secret. 

“Matter of fact, she locks herself in the bathroom for like, forever. I just heard the hairdryer go on, meaning another hour at least. What the fuck is she doing in there, getting ready for prom?”

Sam finally has to chuckle. “Clearly it’s been a long time since you’ve lived with a woman, Dean.” 

Dean scoffs. “Right.”

“And she’s actually been a big help in cleaning up around here,” Sam says, with a growing smirk. “Which is, quite literally, a refreshing change.”

Dean snorts at that. 

“Of course, you’re happy,” he says. “A new damn dish rack turns you on.”

Sam shoots him a wan look. “The question is, are you happy?”

That manages to take Dean by surprise. He hesitates to answer…

But he’s saved when he hears someone approaching. He knows it’s you because he can smell the mix of your floral soap and coconutty shampoo; it’s a scent that often lingers on your pillow and has unconsciously infiltrated Dean’s nose. 

His reply to Sam dies on his tongue when he sees you.

“Hey,” you greet both men, all bright and smiley with your hair in wild curls down your back. 

A lot of the time you keep your hair straight or loose and wavy, so it’s rare for Dean to see your natural look. It’s a good one for you, he thinks. Along with those jean shorts hugging your curvy hips, and the V-neck top you’re wearing, which offers a nice peek of cleavage. 

Your hand falls on his shoulder, with your thumb stroking his neck. You then brush that hand across his back as you pass by on your way to the kitchen. If possible, you’ve become even more touchy since you two got together.

Dean holds fast to your hand, stopping you in your path. 

“So that’s what you were working on in there,” he remarks. “Thought I was gonna need to break out the fire extinguisher.” 

You grin in amusement and do a little twirl under his hand, shaking out your curls a little.

“You like?” you ask. Dean tugs you back over. He reaches out and fingers at the soft ends of your hair. 

“Beautiful,” he says.

“Looks real nice,” Sam adds.

“Why, thank you.” Your smile is contagious, and Dean can’t help reciprocating. You drop a hand on his shoulder again.

“I know you’re our resident Gordon Ramsay, but I kinda feel like cooking today,” you say. “Is Cas coming home anytime soon?”

Dean nods. “Yeah, he called this morning. Probably dropping back in tonight.”

You nod. “Good! I’ll make plenty then…oh, wait, he doesn’t eat.”

“What did you have in mind?” Sam asks. 

“Well, I know you guys haven’t had much Cuban food, so I thought you might like to try some ropa vieja,” you reply. Sam’s brows knit together. 

“Old clothes?” he translates. His two years of high school Spanish can give him that much.

“Yeah! But it’s basically shredded beef with onions, garlic, tomato sauce, and a bunch of other good stuff,” you explain. Then your eyes brighten. “Oh! And I can make my grandma’s famous black beans, white rice, some bread with crushed garlic and olive oil…”

By the time you finish listing the things you plan on making, Dean is already salivating. 

Later that evening, when Dean actually gets to sample said food, he’s eaten enough for three men in the span of forty-five minutes.

“Jesus, man. Going for a record on indigestion?” Sam cautions him, despite his amusement. 

Dean pointedly ignores his brother to look over at you. After he swallows another forkful of beef stew, he says, “Not for nothin’, this is probably the second-best meal of my entire life.”

“Oh, yeah?” You giggle. “What’s number one?”

“Diner called Slammies in Alabama. Best fucking pie on Earth,” he easily recalls. “Double applewood bacon cheeseburger, chili cheese fries, brick oven pizza. Bar none.” 

Sam inclines his head, remembering the food coma he and Dean had that night. They’d hit the rock-hard pillows at the motel and slept like they’d been on an all-night bender. 

“But this is like, right there,” Dean says to you, leveling his hand up by his head. 

“Well, let’s see if this moves the needle,” you reply as you get up from your seat. You answer the question in his eyes. “Forgot something, hold on.”

But before you can leave the table, Dean reaches over and takes your hand. 

“Thanks, sweetheart. For all of this. I mean it,” he says. 

A soft, genuine smile grows across your face. You lean down and press a tender kiss below his hairline, stroking his cheek before you go. 

Dean quirks a smile. It’s taken him time to get used to how open you are with your affections, but he likes it. All of it. Every time you reach for him, touch him, brush against him, intentionally or not. He always has.

Though he has to resist embarrassment when he notices the way his brother is watching him. Sam raises a brow, smiling that irritating smile of his. 

“Oh, yeah. You’re not happy at all,” he intones.

“Never said I wasn’t,” Dean says defensively. But he perks up when you return. Maybe you’re bringing more garlic bread. 

Instead, you’re holding a tin pan.

“What’cha got there?” he asks.

“Dessert,” you announce. It’s a Cuban flan: creamy, rich custard with a consistency smoother than cheesecake, and thicker than pudding.  

You haven’t even sat back down yet when Dean carves himself a generous slice. He moans when a large forkful melts in his mouth. You start to blush as you watch him with crossed arms and a hand over your smile. You don’t know whether to be amused or flattered.

Sam watches his brother stuff his face with a subtle shake of his head.    

“You’re enabling him,” he tells you. You shrug, but then you rest your hands on both Sam and Dean’s shoulders. 

“Now I have someone to cook for,” you say. You have tears in your eyes, but you quickly blink and try to turn away. Frowning, Dean takes your hand. 

“Hey, where you going?” he says, and aims to pull you into his lap. You hesitate, knowing you’re not going to be able to squeeze between him and the table.  

“It’s okay, these hips don’t fit,” you chuckle wryly, with a sniffle. But Dean just backs his chair up from the table a bit to make room. 

“What’re you talking about? You fit right here,” he says firmly, and he tugs you down. This is the one thing Dean has tried his damndest to break you out of—that self-deprecating streak of yours. 

You finally accept being guided into his lap, where you indeed fit snugly across his thighs. His arm comes around the front to hold you close by your hip, while his other hand rests comfortingly on your back.

Looking up into his eyes, you draw enough courage to be honest. 

“I was mostly raised by my grandma,” you begin to explain. Your father wasn’t ready to be one, and so wasn’t in the picture. Your mother died when you were in high school. So when your grandmother also passed away a few years ago… 

Well, you’ve been alone for a while.

You sniff and wipe at your face, but your eyes close as Dean’s lips press above your brow. When you next open your eyes and cautiously look between the brothers, Sam’s sympathy warms you. 

“If it isn’t obvious, you have a home here,” he says. “We can never replace what you’ve lost, but…we’re your family too.”

You know that Dean feels the same way by the way he brushes the tears from your cheek, thumbing at your bottom lip.

"You're right where you need to be," he says, with a hand squeezing your hip. His sincerity is in his even tone, in the firmness in his eyes.

You’re able to smile a bit.

“Ah…I’m interrupting, aren’t I?”

The three of you turn to the kitchen doorway, where Castiel stands awkwardly. He clearly senses emotional tension, but it breaks the moment you turn to him with a tearful laugh. 

“Hey, Cas. Have you ever eaten ‘old clothes?’” you ask. 

His puzzled expression is absolutely priceless.  

When Sam finds a possible hunt in Hope, Indiana, Castiel agrees to go with you all. It’s a small, corn-fed town in the middle of nowhere, and five people have gone missing over the course of a year. 

The latest is a nine-year-old kid named Andy Campbell. That alone upsets you; if you have one weakness, it’s for kids.

“Local farmers have been reporting dead cattle too, drained of blood,” Sam says from the passenger seat in the Impala. “I’m thinking vampires trying to keep a low profile.”

“Sounds about right, if a bit sloppy,” Dean remarks. They are in the Midwest though. If this is a coven, or even a rogue vamp who’s been here a while, maybe they got lazy. “So what, police station first? Get any details they might’ve missed.”

“I want to talk to the kid’s mom,” you say. It earns Dean’s gaze at you in the rearview mirror. “We can get the last time she saw him, where he went missing, anything she might’ve held back from the police.”

He nods and shares a glance with Sam. “I’ll go with her. You and Cas scope out the station.”

The angel has gotten better at pretending to be a Fed, but not by much. Sam agrees, even though Dean sees in his face that he’d rather be taking his brother. Dean tempers a smile and keeps driving to the closest motel in this dusty town. 

You don a sensible pantsuit to match Dean’s Fed suit, along with your badges: Agents Buckingham and Nicks. 

When Andy’s mom, Rachel Campbell, opens the door of her modest home to you and Dean, he lets you take the lead. You’re good at this part, connecting with the victims and getting them to talk. He sometimes worries about you though—that your soft, sympathetic heart will get the best of you. 

“How long has Andy been missing?” you ask, accepting a cup of tea from the woman. 

Rachel is around your age, maybe a few years older. She looks run down, a shell of a human as she looks at the carpet rather than at you or Dean. You can’t know exactly how she feels, but you have a vivid imagination. 

And from the various pictures of her and Andy on the wall, just the two of them, you deduce that she’s a single mother. Just like your mom had been.

“Almost four months,” she admits. “The police station doesn’t even return my calls anymore.”

That upsets you, but you keep a lid on your emotions to focus on the woman in front of you. 

“Andy’s father, he’s not around?” Dean asks. Rachel shakes her head, confirming your suspicions.

“No, we split up shortly after he was born,” she replies, her tone tired and resigned. “I was at work. I uh, I work at a doctor’s office. Andy was supposed to come home on the bus, like any other day…but he never did.”

She sucks in a shaky breath as the beginnings of tears make her eyes red and glassy. 

“His school couldn’t tell me why he wasn’t on the bus. But one of his friends said he was late getting out of class, so he must’ve tried to walk home. Even though he knew he could call me when that happens…anyway, somebody must’ve grabbed him.”

Rachel looks away as a tear streams down her cheek, followed by another. You feel your throat tighten with a sympathetic burn behind your eyes, but you keep it at bay long enough to set down your tea. You reach out and lay a hand on the woman’s hand. She meets your steady gaze. 

“I promise, we’ll find your son,” you tell her.

“What?” you ask Dean as the two of you leave the small house, walking back to the Impala in the driveway. You just know there’s something up with him by the stoic look on his face. It isn’t so stoic to you. 

He waits until the two of you are in the car before he levels you with a raised brow. 

“Look, I know you want to find this kid. I do too,” he says. “But watch out about making promises you can’t keep.”

You frown back at him. “What’s better, letting that poor woman have no hope at all?”

In his mind, Dean thinks it’s worse to give her false hope. But he sees how stubborn you’re getting, so he doesn’t push it. The fact that you care about people like Rachel is part of what drew him to you in the first place, but there’s a line, he thinks. A point where you can care too much. 

When you two eventually meet up with Sam and Castiel, they’ve been able to confirm from the body of a recent Jane Doe, with a row of lethal bite marks on her wrist, that this is definitely a vamp case. 

After narrowing down where each of the victims were taken, the four of you sketch out a perimeter of where the monsters could likely be hiding. It’s Dean who finds the old barn on the verge of a corn field, about three miles away from the school where Andy was taken. 

You all wait until high noon the next day to scope it out. Looking into the front windows is useless; all evidence points to an empty home.

The back of the barn is another story. Cracking the barn door open reveals a large storage area, where a nest of vampires are sleeping in their beds. Some are coupled off, but you note a few on single beds.

Then, your eyes narrow on the humans sleeping piled together in the corner—three women, a young man, and Andy Campbell on a twin-sized bed of his own.  

Dean carefully closes the barn door, and the four of you regroup back to the Impala.

“It’s a bigger nest than we thought,” Sam says, though he keeps his voice quiet. Dean is already opening the trunk for his favorite machete. 

“First, let’s get those humans out,” he says. You agree with a nod when he hands you a weapon.  

Dean shoots you a wink. “This one’s Brenda.”

“What happened to Lucille?” you ask, taking the knife from him.

“That’s the bat wrapped in barbed wire. Matter of fact, I should break her out.”

Dean reaches into the trunk and pulls out the blood-stained bat. He rubs the handle fondly. 

“Ahh, Dad loved this thing.”

You sidle up next to him and glance over wryly. “You want some alone time with your big stick, there?”

Dean flashes you a smirk, giving you a long once over in your form-fitting shirt and jeans. “Well, you’re certainly welcome to join me, sweetheart.” 

You snort in response, bumping into his side with your hip. Dean teasingly bounces one of your curls in your face. You smile and swat his hand away.

Sam subtly rolls his eyes, despite a small smile as he shares a look with Cas.

“All right. Can we go, please?” Sam says in amusement. Castiel awkwardly straps on a machete to his belt. He doesn’t believe he’ll need it, but Sam and Dean are always prepared. He wants to be as well. 

You’re ready to go, but Dean holds you back by your shoulder. You look up at him curiously.

“Hey, follow our lead on this one, okay?” he asks. 

You sense that he’s hedging at something more specific with that request. 

“What do you mean?”  

“The kid. I know you wanna beeline for him the second we get in there, but hold off,” Dean says. His gaze is serious. “He could be turned.”

He got a good look inside, the same as you. The kid was lying on a bed while the other humans were chained up on the floor. Still, you shoot him an incredulous look. 

“Why would they turn a kid?” you ask. “They have the others.”

“Yeah, and they were chained up. Why not him?” Dean asks, imploring you to think logically. He shares a look with Sam, who silently agrees. You look between the brothers with pursed lips. 

“Maybe they don’t give a fuck, because they’re cocky assholes,” you retort. And you walk past them to head back towards the barn. 

The brothers and the angel share one last look, with Dean letting out a subtle breath before he follows you.

You creep back into the barn, as quiet as possible through the room of snoring vampires. The brothers and Castiel go to the sleepy women in the corner. They look dirty and malnourished, wearing threadbare clothing. Sam feels the pulse of the man prone on the floor, but he’s already dead. 

When one of the girls wakes with a whimper, Dean holds his finger to his lips, warning them all wordlessly to be quiet. He looks over and doesn’t find you next to him. He nearly curses out loud when he sees you heading for Andy’s bed across the room. 

Meanwhile, you touch the little boy’s shoulder and shake him a little. He wakes with a small sound of reluctance, but you shush him gently. 

“Andy?” You grasp his shoulders. He nods, though his blonde brows are furrowed with confusion. 

“Who…who are you?” he asks. He rubs at his sleepy brown eyes. 

“I’m here to help,” you reply in a whisper. “I’m going to get you back to your mom, okay?”

After a moment, he nods and lets you pick him up into your arms. You hazard looking over across the room, and you find Dean’s annoyed gaze. Despite the uncomfortable churning in your belly, you ignore him for now and head for the back door.

You’re only able to take a few steps when you feel a hand wrap tightly in your hair and pull it away from your neck, just for rows of several razor-sharp teeth to sink into your neck.

AN: 😬 ...Sorry. If you don't know me by now, I love a cliffhanger. But how'd you like Dean getting used to sharing his space? (And having someone to occasionally put him on his toes.)

Part 2 will feature a good old fashioned "you should've listened to me" fight, some angst, some making up, some salsa dancing, and a healthy dose of smutty smut.

Next Time:

“I don’t care what that legendary gut tells you,” you sass back. “I’m not a little girl, and you’re not my damn father!”

Dean raises incredulous brows at the way you’re shouting at him. He crosses his arms. 

“What’s this, some kind of Latina temper?” he asks snidely. 

You truly become incensed at that. 

Keep Reading: PART 2

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[y13evie]

hi i love love your writing!! would you write a smut for james wilson from house? maybe reader is working on house's team, or just works at the hospital. slight age gap also if that's okay!

ty for writing it if you choose it!! <33

clear your mind

omg i am SO sorry for the wait, my dear. i hope you enjoy!!

tags: age gap, smut, fuckin on da job

the tension was consuming you. day and night, all you could think about was him. there have been countless nights where you touched yourself while creating fake scenarios of you two. but that’s irrelevant right now. you’re supposed to be helping your team figure out what may be wrong with your critical patient. house notices you aren’t concentrated.

“you. what’ve you got?”. he tilts his head at you. you know he was asking you on purpose, everything he did had reasoning. you think of something fast. and it’s obvious.

“appendicitis?”

“jesus. who gave you a medical degree? get out and clear your head, you need it.”

god he was harsh. but he was right. you nodded at your colleagues as house shooed you out. you scolded yourself for not separating your work and home life. it wasn’t your fault though. james was so smart, so handsome, so much older. it’s like he was asking to be swooned over.

to clear your head you decided to hang out with your favorite nurse before getting back to work. she knew the feelings you had for james and supported your slightly problematic crush. she nursed in the oncology department, so you treaded the waters to her office very carefully. due to your lack of attention to your surroundings, you managed to walk right into the very man you’re avoiding.

“oh, hi. i actually needed to talk to you about something if you have a moment”. he looked at you with those eyes. everyone might call you crazy but you swear that coworkers don’t look at each other the way he looks at you.

“i’m busy. bye”. you nudged past him, something unusual as it’s normal for you to be so bubbly around him.

you barge into your friend's office and immediately throw yourself onto her beanbag.

“i’m a failure”. your muffled voice dripping with drama. she peeled her eyes off of her reports to you. it was quite a humorous sight, your face in the bean bag as you kick your feet like a toddler.

“what happened this time, sis.”. she walks over to you and sits criss cross applesauce, waiting for you to spill. you prop your head up on your hands and begin your story from the moment house kicked you out and basically called you an idiot.

the way she bit her lip in an effort to stifle her laughter tells you she’s not taking your sob story very seriously.

“it’s not funny!” you huffed. now you really looked like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

that did it for her. she began to laugh a little.

“it’s so funny. you’re a mess, babe! i need you to pick yourself up and go get your old man.”. you could tell she’s serious but can’t help but giggle at ‘old man’. that’s something she always nagged you about.

you got yourself back onto your feet and decided she was right. it was probably the only way you could get those silly thoughts out of your head. you thanked your friend for helping you out and marched out of her office. just as you were about to reach the department of diagnostic medicine, you heard a familiar voice.

“hey. we need to talk now.”. you turned around and faced him. all the bravery in your heart melted as soon as you came face to face with james wilson.

“uhm..sure? what about?” you questioned. there was what felt like an endless pit in your stomach, you almost wanted to order an MRI. he instructed you to follow him to his office, which of course, you obeyed.

when you arrived at his office he let you walk in first, being sure to lock the door once you both were in. you began to toy with the stitching of your white coat. he sits at the edge of his desk, waiting for you to look up.

“what’s going on?” he questions you this time. you paused for a moment, trying to decipher what he’s trying to say.

“what?”

“the way you walked right past me today. what was that about?”. he pushes his question further, expecting an answer to your coldness.

your heart dropped once you understood what he meant. you looked at him with pleading eyes, scanning his face for how he’s feeling.

“i’ve had something on my mind. i’m really, really sorry. you’re the last person i want to ignore.”

“so you’re ignoring me?” you can tell he isn’t upset as a sly smile makes its way into his face. you roll your eyes as he beckons you to come a little closer.

“what’s on your mind?”. he knows how you feel. it’s painfully obvious. he just wants to hear you say it.

you claim it’s nothing and wave it off as stress, but he knows you’re lying. he knows you’re lying when you come even closer to him, positioning yourself right between his legs that are hanging off his desk. he knows you’re lying when you can’t help but stare at the way his pants are tightening around his crotch.

“you know how unprofessional this is, right? or do you just wanna feel me inside of you.”. you’re done with him teasing you. you shut him up by placing a soft kiss on lips, which then led to a makeout session that had his hands roaming your body. and you let him. the way you grind on him in desperation tells him everything he needs to know.

he allows you to face the desk, commanding you to take off your pants and lean over it. you do exactly as he says. james takes absolutely no time to plow into you. you were expecting him to be more gentle, but for some reason you were drunk on this feeling. the way his cock is hitting your most sensitive spots over, and over again is driving you mad.

“y’know how long i’ve wanted to do this? feel you around me just like this. i bet you wanted this too, huh.”. all you can do is pathetically nod your head and quietly sob into his desk. your cries did nothing but make him twitch inside of you, groans coming deep from within his throat.

you felt your back instinctively arch further as you feel your orgasm building up. just as you were about to come undone, he stopped. you gasp as he pulls out and just looks at you. you turn around and see him stroking his length. he gently grabs your face with his free hand and tilts it downwards. you knew what he wanted. and you wanted to make him feel good.

as you got down on your knees you made sure to replace his hand with your own, setting an absurdly slow pace. you swiped your thumb across the slit that was leaking beads of precum and placed your mouth onto his tip. you slowly bobbed up and down to get accustomed to his size, and then began to take him farther and farther. james gripped your hair tightly as a disorganized string of swears left his mouth.

“so good f’me baby, being such a good girl taking me like this”.

his praises encouraged you to work your mouth even faster. the way he whimpered and moaned out your name told you he was getting close. focusing on his tip while using your hand for the rest of his cock is what sent him over the edge. he thrusted into your mouth a few times to help ride out his high. you felt so proud of yourself for making such a mess of him.

james was overstimulated and tired, but he needed to make his girl feel good. he sat you back down onto his desk and instructed you to lean back. he was drooling at the sight of your pussy all open and wet for you. he wanted to go slow with you but god you looked so desperate. he got onto one of his knees and began ravaging you. your hands are kneading as his hair as he makes circles around your clit with his tongue. the sounds are lewd but neither of you care. he’s teasing your entrance with his curled fingers before plunging them into you. the feeling of him sucking your puffy clit with the sensation of hitting your sweet spot was so overwhelming. tears ran down your face as your orgasm comes crashing over you.

james allows you to calm yourself down before helping you put your outfit back in. he wishes he had the time to give you proper aftercare and praise you for how great you made him feel, but he can’t. instead he settles for leaving a mix of small and passionate kisses all over your face while murmuring sweet praises in between each breath. as you were reaching for the doorknob james asks you what you’ve been waiting to hear.

“hey, would you like to get dinner tonight?”

before “sneakily” exiting his office you throw him a thumbs up and sweet smile. god, you could get used to this.

#james wilson #james wilson x you #james wilson x reader #james wilson x y/n #house md #house md x reader #house m.d. #house m.d. x reader

[thinkingaboutbetterdays]

recovery. ( robert chase x reader )

gif belongs to me

The moment you saw Cuddy, you knew something was wrong, that something had happened. You weren't expecting it to be as critical. When she told you that a patient had stabbed Robert, you asked how bad it was. Lisa explained that he was taken in for surgery. And you immediately pictured the worst-case scenario - that he would die on the operating table.

"I-I should be there." You blinked away the tears in your eyes, your voice cracking with emotion.

Lisa told you which room the operation was happening in, arranging for someone to cover your duties. You walked to the elevator, relieved when it was empty. And when the doors closed, you broke down.

As you stepped into the observation level, you looked down at where Robert was unconscious on the operating table. You stared down at your fiancée, who was fighting for his life, and felt fresh tears in your eyes, feeling powerless to help him.

You barely registered how long the surgery had lasted as you paced, stared, sat on the floor, and then repeated the cycle. Robert had worked with the surgeon before he joined House's new team. And when the surgery was a success, he called up to you, but you knew that Robert wasn't out of the woods yet.

You stepped outside, meeting him in the hallway, "How is he?"

"We repaired the damage the wound caused. There was major bleeding. We'll keep monitoring for any changes, but for now, he's stable."

You felt a tear fall down your cheek, resting your clasped hands against your lips as the news sunk in. You had gotten to know each other well during Robert's time with the team, and you were relieved that Robert had been left in his care as he was one of the hospital's best surgeons.

"Thank you." You whispered.

He stepped forward when more tears fell, bringing you into a comforting embrace as sobs left your lips. "I know. I know." After a few moments, you pulled away, wiping your tears away. "Come on. I'll take you to his room."

The steady beep of the heart monitor was the first thing you registered when you entered the room. You approached the bed where Robert was resting, though he didn't appear as peaceful as he usually did when he was sleeping.

You looked at the heart monitor, sniffling as you looked down at your unconscious fiancée, taking his hand. You tentatively combed his hair away from his forehead, closing your eyes when tears pricked your eyes, wanting to be strong in his presence.

For the next eighteen hours, you remained by his side, speaking to House when he came to see for himself, thanking Wilson when he brought you coffee.

House was there when Chase woke up, ushering you to get changed into fresh clothes, and for twenty minutes, Robert contemplated the lengthy recovery process ahead of him. House was gone when you returned, and you approached him, a smile forming on his lips when he saw you enter.

A smile grew on your lips as you held his right hand in both of yours. "Hi." You said softly.

"Hi." He greeted with a light chuckle.

"I'm sorry I should've been here -"

"It's fine. House told me he sent you home." Robert smiled up at you.

You hadn't noticed the tears in your eyes until he held his arms out, and you carefully returned the embrace, feeling tears fall down your cheeks as he held you. "I should be comforting you."

"We're comforting each other." He kissed your head, meeting your gaze when you lifted your head from his shoulder. "Do you know..."

You nodded slowly. "Did House tell you?"

"I felt he was oddly sensitive."

You smiled, placing a hand on his cheek as you held his gaze. "Everything is going to be fine, you know. It'll be a long road to recovery, but I'll be there to help you through it."

And the honesty in your eyes was enough for the weight of his injuries to sink in as you unknowingly brought up one of his fears - that your relationship would suffer because of the rehabilitation process.

"I'm sorry for anything I say while -" He exhaled sharply when the first tear fell, and you wiped it away with your thumb. "I love you."

"I love you too." You smiled, leaning in to kiss him tenderly.

He placed his arms around you as you lay beside him, resting your head on his chest. You closed your eyes as you listened to the steady beat of his heart, feeling him kiss your head.

You knew he was going to be okay. When his rehabilitation started, he would become frustrated. You knew this and accepted it. But you knew that in the heat of the moment, he never meant it. And Chase knew that whatever happened, you would be there. And it was enough to quieten his thoughts.

#robert chase #robert chase x reader #house m.d.

[dearestcynthiaw]

Goodbye Stranger - House M.D x Reader

Chapter Two: Who Are You?

Source A: Photograph, with missing piece, and handwritten message: 'Spring 1928 - Trip to London' no other inscriptions.

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Hello again!

Sorry for the long wait, this chapter might be a little dodgy writing wise, but I'm hoping it'll sound ok.

I just wanted to add that themes might get a bit heavier from here, but I'm still unsure. I'll let you know if any trigger warnings come up.

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Chapter One: World Weary

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TW: Mentions of blood, death, cigarettes and alcohol. (Sounds like a underground band name)

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In truth, House thought about this peculiar encounter for the rest of the day. He never once closed the Wikipedia tab on this mysterious, yet apparent English Rose. He'd found himself opening it frequently and scrolling to the bottom of endless pages to really see how far this woman would go with her 'fantasy'.

Due to this anomaly in his usual work day, he found it challenging to engage with his current case, often sitting in his office and pondering in the silence. His eyes glued to the door she had disappeared through hours earlier. Would she ever come back? She had been such a fascinating specimen, he just wanted to know exactly what was going on in her head. He thought about the endless illnesses that could have caused this odd phenomenon, ones that would cause hysteria or an overactive imagination.

Was she here to fool him into a prescription? Was she living out a long time wish to live the life of someone with great lineage and aristocratic fortune? Did she want to live in the romanticised perception of the past? It was all a colossal enigma that he wanted to unearth and tease out of the woman.

To him, the current case was a bore compared to what had transpired earlier that day. It sounded like a harsh flu, but not one that he’d ever seen. They’d isolated the patient and kept up with questions, which the man was reluctant to answer. With House acting distant, the diagnosis seemed far out of reach. House thought of giving up at one point, letting his team of three figure it out for themselves. That was until they found the man’s ankles were swollen.

At this point, due to House’s lack of interest, the whole procedure was moving at a snail’s pace. The case was getting increasingly worse and House’s team decided the patient would need to be scheduled for an X-Ray of the chest, checking the lungs for fluid and the heart for implications. 

The conclusion was the possibility of heart failure, yet they were still unsure of how it got to this point. 

The end of the day was nigh. Still after plenty of pestering, House rebuffed the idea of at least looking at the patient through the glass. The idea of this patient dying seemed to have no effect on him, maybe deep down it did, but he appeared oblivious or distracted.

It was late when he got back to his car. The rain was heavily pattering on the roof of the multistory car park. It was loud, but that never detached him from his buzzing thoughts.

Dr Wilson, his friend (you’d like to think) and colleague, caught him just before he left, knocking sternly on his driver's side window, which House reluctantly opened. Wilson’s eyebrows were knitted and his mouth was pulled into a straight line 'What's gotten into you? I’m made to believe this is a one-of-a-kind case, not even you can figure it out.’ 

House only huffed at this, rolling up the window. Again there was a torrent of knocks. 

‘What? I’m late to a date with one of the hottest chicks in town.’ 

‘Don’t mess about, this is a life or death House. Why are you not interested?’ Wilson spoke, his voice sprinkled with concern.

In return, House revved his engine ‘No time to talk, probably won’t see you tomorrow, I doubt I'll be able to walk with all the fun I’ll be up to tonight. Bye.’ With that he flew out of his space, leaving Wilson in the dust. 

Rain drops danced on his windows as he bolted down the bustling roads. The street lights and headlights of other cars painted his window screen with an array of vivid colours. The music on his radio hummed in the background along with the rattling of the wheels on the dodgy tarmac. 

He was eventually stopped at a set of traffic lights, watching people trudge through the rain as he sat snugly in his warm car. 

Amongst the hoard of busybodies was a young lady, one with a look of discomfort and panic. She was instantly recognisable, yet her togs were soggy and discoloured with the spatters of rain. Her hair was heavy with water and had lost its neat, waved styling. 

He watched intensely as a singular man approached her, touching her shoulder, causing her to jump back in fright. 

The lights flicked to orange and he was about ready to move on, when she was pushed up against the wall unbeknown to those around her. 

He moved on through the green light. He thought nothing of this interaction, knowing someone else would interfere. 

He was part way down the road when without thinking he flicked on his right indicator, stopping in a lay-by, hopping out in haste with his hand roughly gripping his cane. 

Bracing against the frigid rain, he splashed through puddles approaching the pair.

He was close now, and could see how dangerous this situation was. The man was grabbing at her with his filthy hands, his face was close and his voice low.

House put his cane between the two causing an instant reaction from the unknown male. 

‘Whatcha think you’re doing, cripple?’ The male hollered. 

He attempted to push the stranger away, making sure to keep distance in case he decided to lash out, which his body language suggested.

House’s mind was sharp thinking ‘This woman has a disease that’s contagious through touch. She’s an escapee and has been on the run for the past 2 days. You’ve probably contracted it by being in close proximity.’ 

The man seemed to instantaneously spring backwards ‘How come you’re fine?’ his face scrunched up.

‘Inoculation, dummies don’t have access to it. Now move on, nothing to see here.’ and with that the frowzy man scurried away. The appearance of his walking aid would’ve probably been enough to strike fear in the stranger, but the spontaneous story-telling seemed to bring the alarming interaction to a close.

House moved away as well, pacing back to his car.

She hesitated before shouting after him, forgetting about nearby eavesdroppers ‘Why did you help me? I thought you said I was mad and should be locked away.’ 

‘Doesn’t matter, you coming or you just gonna stand there staring at my back?’ House turned back to look at her, water running down his face.

He finally got a closer look at her when they were back in the comfort of his car. She was soaked to the bone, dripping on the fabric seats. Black could be seen about her red, puffy eyes where her cake mascara had smudged. Her hair was tousled and unkept. She was quite a pitiful sight to behold. 

There was an uncomfortable silence before the engine was started up. House was hesitating. 

Again the music could only be heard faintly in the background, not even a single breath. 

‘I’ve seen a lot. New things, that is.’ She attempted to start a conversation, hoping that after this frightful evening he would see some sense in what she had said previously that day.

He ignored her.

‘I’ve got a car at home.’ She muttered under her breath, she was speaking to herself more than him. She was partly facing away, looking out the window as the streets flew by.

He turned the radio up to drown out her rambling. He would much rather be glued to the thumping music and the overactive thoughts building in his mind. He detested the notion of making awkward conversation with a lady he did not wholly trust.

The music was blaring now, the bass rattling the plastic interior of the car.

As she listened intently, she heard a new plethora of instruments that was very unlike what she was used to. She didn’t know what to concentrate on, she couldn’t tell anything apart. Every instrument seemed to drown each other out.

Her eyes were wide from the boisterous sound but she happily sat tapping her fingers on her lap to the rhythm. She could only pick out one phrase from the lyrics; 

“Who are you?’’.

Who was she? That really was the truth. The song just exaggerated that query. 

House finally let a question sit in the noisy atmosphere ‘You like The Who?’. 

‘Who?’ She turned to him.

‘Very funny.’ The conversation was quick, short and littered with sarcasm.

The song had a bit of a quieter section but jumped straight back into the chaos. It made her jump slightly with the suddenness of it all, consequently causing House to humph with a singular hissing laugh.

Again, there was a gap of silence and a sort of sizzling, filmy sound that rang out from the central system in the car. The bulky set of technology to her left disposed of a silver, holographic disk and she looked at it curiously. 

Panicked, she asked ‘Did I break something?’.

In a quick movement, he flicked open a compartment in front of her knees ‘Pick one, and replace it.’

She tentatively did so, taking the plastic cases from the glove box and splaying them out on her lap, looking at the different images. She seemed to figure it out, it was much like the vinyls she was used to, but in a different format. She gently replaced the circular disk safely into its matching case. Opening another dark coloured case with a man and a blonde woman displayed on the front, she placed the disk where the other had originally come from. As it slid from her fingers into the machine, her eyebrows furrowed in awe.The new song flicked on after a couple seconds of whirring. 

‘Top Gun? Really?’ 

‘I didn’t know what to pick, I’ve never seen any of these before. It's the only one I could see with the musicians on the front.’ 

‘They’re not the musicians, it's a film soundtrack, Marty. Maverick and Charlie? Have you not watched the movie?’ He used that odd nickname ‘Marty’ again amongst his rambling.

She sighed, looking down at her lap at the remaining disk holders. She brought one close to her face as the darkness obstructed the image. ‘You listen to King Oliver? Are you a fan of Jazz?’ she perceived his seated figure at the wheel. She was delighted that this music was still being heard. If she could relate to him with music then it might make the atmosphere more comfortable. 

Irked by her continued persistence on making conversation, House stared back at her. ‘What? Are you going to tell me that you were there when they came out?’  

He was still fighting conversation. 

Feeling knocked back she spoke quietly again ‘I’m only curious, that’s all.’.

Her thoughts consumed her that when House had parked and was now exiting the car, she was too slow to realise. They were before an unfamiliar single-story building, he was bugging her to leave the passenger seat. 

He ushered her towards the front door, both traipsing on damp gravel, water still continuing to cling to their raiments. 

Hesitating, she stood by the entrance ‘Are you coming in or are you just going to stand there and freeze?’. She was already cold, she had barely had time to dry and was finding it hard to conceal her shivers. 

It had been a rough looking public house, she had no longer been pleased when seeing its interior. Truthfully, she was glad to no longer be stuck on the streets but this brought no hope as to what House had in mind for her. She pined for her home, at this point it seemed ever so far out of reach. The panic was devouring her insides as she walked with him to the long stretch of bar. 

She still had her bag of small belongings clasped to her side; a small pocket watch, a delicately painted case of cigarettes, a metal lighter, a compact mirror, a gold tube of lipstick and a small amount of notes and coins. It was a pure set of luck that it hadn’t been snatched out of her clutches whilst she helplessly wandered the streets.

House had already placed an order whilst she lingered a distance back from him. He’d downed a couple doubles and was waiting for his glass to be topped up.

The bartender seemed to look at her in inquiry, she felt pressured to place an order too.

‘Cognac, a little soda, please.’ Giving a small smile as she felt relieved to finally have a drink. 

‘You think we do that here, sweetheart?’ The man seemed amused by her request.

She felt embarrassed, flushing a rosé shade on the cheeks ‘Just brandy then.’ She spoke as she placed a few shillings on the counter. 

‘We don’t take whatever those are.’ 

House surely thought she was a fool at this point, he pressed his glass to his lip and gave a sharp snicker. Every aspect of her life had to be littered with old-timey things. He thought; she was quite committed to leading this lifestyle and neglecting the reality of today’s society. She proceeded to sit beside him after the interaction with the bartender, who went to tend to another customer. Demoralised, she let out a shaky sigh, elbows on the bar and right hand over her eyes. She felt like crying, but was certain that the doctor would degrade her for it. 

‘So what’s your real name then?’ House questioned after a lengthy couple of minutes, again grabbing the attention of the bartender to fill up his glass.

In a huff she pulled out a little red cloth-bound book from her purse and pushed it in front of him. ‘That’s my driving licence, have a look at it yourself.’ He opened it in a blasé manner, finding the same name she’d given when they met, written in neat looped writing. Alongside her name were the start and expiry dates for her driving permit that conveniently matched up with her story. 

‘That’s all I've got in terms of identification. That’s it, that is my name. If you can’t believe me after this then I don’t know what will convince you.’

He continued to study it ‘This is a good forgery, looks authentic.’. 

She didn’t know why she hung around, but she felt that he might be her only chance when it came to getting home. She opened her cigarette case, placing one at her lip, flicking open her lighter and taking a deep exhale. 

‘Better put that out before you get caught.’ He said in a snarky voice with a face to match when she chose to ignore him. 

With that final comment she left her seat marching outside, gasper still between her fingers. House trailed behind her to the overhead roof outside where she continued to take drags. He didn’t want to lose sight of her, not again, he was far from finishing his investigation.

Snapping she snarled ‘What is it? What is it that you want? You’re following me yet you refuse to help me. You don’t even believe me, not even my name! I’m beyond it all, I just- I just - want to get back home, yet you ridicule and tease me to no end! What is it ‘Dr’ House? What do you want me to say? That I’m faking all of this, then fine have it your way, I am. Are you finally satisfied?!. 

There was a second of silent acrimony before she finally stated; ‘I’m going back to the hospital’. She stubbed the cigarette butt beneath her heel, beginning to move.

Suddenly, a pair of headlights blinked at them. They both stood still like a pair of stunned deer in the beam. ‘House!’ came a shout.

House squinted and called back ‘Can’t you see I’m with a babe?’.

She was too stunned to react to his crude joke. 

‘She looks wet, House.’ The voice came closer, it sounded sympathetic.

‘I’m sure she is, from the sight of me.’ 

Gritting her teeth she sneered ‘For goodness sake!’ Crossing her arms for warmth and setting foot back into the intense rain, she began to trudge through the drenched car park. She stood by what she said, she was going to find her way back. 

She walked as far as the side of the car who’s headlights had previously blinded them.

‘She looks distressed, Are you going to stop her? You can’t let her go back in the rain, the hospital is miles from here.’ The man came into view, appearing to her right. She flinched backwards as he tried to rest an assuring hand on her arm. His face was scrunched and his eyes were squinting from battling the downpour. 

‘Just hold on a second, I’ll take you there- House- Jesus Christ, we need to get out of this rain-’ This new man managed to convince her to step back under cover, she still kept her distance from the both of them, arms defensively crossed over her chest.

‘I was trying to find you, and I found you at a bar? You need to take this seriously, your patient went into cardiac arrest, we were trying to get a hold of you but you weren’t answering your phone.’

Looking unbothered, House shot back ‘Is he stable?’ 

‘Yes but-’ 

‘Well it's fine then, let me get on with my night.’ 

You could hear a very heavy sigh from the other man as he pinched the bridge of his nose, ready to speak again.

She finally let her quiet fury go ‘You let this man deal with patients? He couldn’t be the slightest bit interested in a man that is actively dying. He can’t honestly be a doctor, he's such an ass!’ 

‘Hey! That's not very nice to say to your prince charming!’ his eyes flew wide, pulling a mock frown, his words were a little slurred.

‘Well, I’m not wrong, you’re being a complete and utter cad!’

House gasped, looking defensively at the other man shrugging his shoulders ‘I don’t know what she's on about Wilson.’.

That was his name, Wilson. Was that a first or last name? She was yet to know.

‘Can we stop fighting like children? You, House, are going home and you’re going to take the case-file with you. Get in the car.’ Wilson paused to look at the lady, taking in her peculiar outfit. He didn’t know whether it would be dubious to ask her the same, especially with how distraught her manner appeared.

‘Whaaat? Are you calling off my playdate?!’  House whined. ‘I can drive myself, you know.’ He added in a flat tone.

‘The man behind the bar has his keys, I saw him take them earlier.’ She muttered in earshot of the man named ‘Wilson’.

There was a stern ‘In!’ from Wilson before House gave in; ‘Fine fine, Jesus, you really know how to be a stick in my ass!’ 

She remained hesitant as this gentleman, Wilson, opened the back door for her, ushering her in. She really had no other choice at this point, afterall, she had nowhere else to go. 

Wilson turned back to look at her when he had finally seated himself in front of the wheel. ‘What do you need to go back to the hospital for? The clinic closed two hours ago...’.

‘Don’t worry about it, any hotel will do, I’ll go in the morning.’ She spoke softly in defeat.

House let slip ‘Don’t know how you’ll do that with no money.’.

A gasp could be heard ‘House! I-I can’t believe you! Were you planning to spend an evening with her and then just dump her?!’ Wilson shouted in a whisper, which was partly inaudible to the lady in the back. ‘You can’t do that! You’ll have to let her atleast crash on your couch until tomorrow.’ 

‘Why can’t you?’ He mumbled back.

‘Because I’m living out of a hotel at the moment, you know it's not possible.’ His voice went lower ‘You got yourself into this, not me!’

House heaved out a sigh, he was too inebriated to protest.

The drive was prolonged by the squabbling going on up front. She let her ears tune out, concentrating on different landmarks passing by her window. She recognized a few from when she had been roaming earlier that day; The laundromat where a woman stopped her for a chat, commenting on how her voice sounded funny and there was the barbers where she had been catcalled whilst trying to ask about the area.These were only a handful of places that were recognizable. She set about situating them on a map in her mind. She had to know her way around before it was too late, knowing that it would become a survival tool when House inevitably left her on her own.

Her eyes were terribly heavy as she peered out of the rain soaked window, her elbow resting on the seal, her chin propped on her hand. She could see her likeness reflected in the pane, it looked pale and exhausted. Although she felt miserable, It was also surprising how comforting this stranger's car was. She should’ve felt on edge not knowing where she was going, but the warmth and humming chatter seemed to lull her into a peaceful state of mind and eventually a light slumber. 

The door was pulled abruptly open, causing her to tumble sideways. ‘You getting out or what?’. She sleepily trailed behind House up a couple of steps towards a green front door. His keys turnt in the lock, this must’ve been where he lived.

She was greeted by an array of objects, all messily placed around the entirety of the apartment. There were dark bookshelves filled with all sorts of oddities, some of which were recognisable like lozenge bottles, anatomical figurines and the odd syringe that she would see used in her hospitals at home. They were being used like decorational items, which she found quite curious.

Amongst it all was a grand piano, one possibly made from a rich wood, it was the only surface completely clear. 

House limped through the apartment leaving her standing stunned in the entryway, Wilson was behind her, moving to her left to follow the doctor. She’d only seen him in low light, now realising how much more smartly clad he was in comparison to House. He looked and acted more like a man bearing the title of ‘doctor’. He seemed genuinely kind, but after House’s reaction, she didn’t want anyone else caught up in the mess she had gotten herself into. They were still having their previous conversation, she could hear their muffled voices from the other room.

Her heels clicked faintly on the hardwood floor, following the two into what looked like a kitchen. House was propped against a cabinet with a vile of tablets clutched in his hand. He tipped a couple into his palm, tipping his head back to swallow them. He glanced to his side, his steel blue eyes fixing on her figure awkwardly standing just outside the kitchen. 

‘I’m going to get her a towel or something, at least offer her a glass of water instead of staring at her.’ Wilson was prodding House to accommodate his guest. Wilson promptly made his way out of the kitchen space, making sure to keep his distance and disappearing down a corridor, leaving them both alone.

House appeared disapproving as he continued to study her, lips curling inwards in thought. 

She looked down at her shoes and spoke at the floor to avoid eye contact ‘I apologise, I didn't get the chance to thank you…’. She spoke softly and with gentle words only to hear a sniff and a heavy swallow in reply.

‘I wasn't being very kind considering you did help me.’ She added.

Pushing past her, in a way that didn’t cause physical contact he announced ‘I'm going to bed, Wilson will show you where everything is. You’re sleeping on the couch-’

He turned on his heel slightly, looking over his shoulder, which caught her attention; ‘Unless you want to join me for some sweet, passionate sex.’ He teased. He couldn't help himself, she thought, he had to pull some rudimentary rubbish to cover his arse whenever she tried to be polite.

Showing a slight grimace, she watched his back as he staggered away. She shifted her weight behind her on the kitchen’s doorway, head positioned upwards regarding the textured plaster on the ceiling. 

There were a couple subdued footsteps before she noticed Doctor Wilson beside her, holding out a rather plush looking towel. 

With a soft ‘thank you’ and a nod, she wrapped it about her person. 

‘I’ve run you a bath as well. House stopped me in the hallway and asked if I could. The bathroom is just down that hallway.’ Pointing his thumb over his shoulder he noted the direction she should take. ‘If that’s everything, I best be getting back. It's getting late.’

Just before he left she spoke up, clearing her throat quietly, ‘Oh uh, thank you for everything-’ was all she could stutter. 

With a prompt nod and a thoughtful smile he slipped through the front door, shutting it firmly behind him. 

It was deathly silent as she slipped through the passageway to the bathroom. She was still studying her surroundings, taking in all of the little nic-nacs, when she stopped by a shelf just outside the bathroom. Huddled amongst the books was a sweet, well-loved teddy. He was only a tiny thing, just bigger than hand. His fur was thoroughly worn, showing darker spots where the threads were visible. His nose was hand stitched and his eyes glimmered in the low light. She turned him over gently in her hands, finding his maker’s mark. He was a Steiff bear, absolutely identical to her own. Hugging him closely to her chest, she felt a wave of comfort fall over her. A kind of comfort that hurts so terribly. 

She let a silent tear slide down her cheek, thinking desperately of home. Her dear companion was where she left it, settled amongst her bedsheets battling the biting cold of her bedroom. He would never know where she had gone. 

The feeling further gnawed at her heart, her chest burnt with grief. She thought of family, how she’d left them behind, without uttering a goodbye. She thought of her friends and her dogs and finally her fiancé. She let her head tilt slightly back, her flushed lips parted, trying to stop the tears from dripping onto the floor, but they only bled down her neck, stinging as they made their path. Looking back at the bear, she pulled him back from her person, giving him a light kiss on his woolly cheek. Tenderly, she seated him back on the shelf and continued on her path. 

She was finally amongst the cold tile of the bathroom. Quietly locking the door behind her, she began to undress, hooking her garments over the showerail above the tub. They might’ve had a chance of drying there. 

She sat on the stool in the corner to unclip her stockings. There, she caught sight of a scrape on her knee where she had taken a fall earlier that day. The adrenaline had been overpowering the pain, only now realising how the crimson blood had seeped into the rayon. Peeling the fabric off the wound she set about washing away some of the blood in the sink, hoping that she could salvage the tattered hosiery. She left them to dry like the rest of her clothing and undergarments.

She felt it was only right to leave on her few pieces of jewellery, knowing her tired state, she would likely misplace them otherwise.

Placing a foot into the sudsy water, the pleasant water enveloped her numb limbs. She led down fully, letting the warmth rush over her, finally ridding herself of the dreadful frigidity that had lingered upon her skin. Allowing her eyes to close, she let out a contented sigh. This small pause, where her body was finally in a relaxed state, brought on small waves of dread. Much like the bath water sloshing about in the porcelain, the top of her stomach was sweeping like waves, twisting and pulling in agony. 

She hunched over, pulling her knees up to her chest as a form of comfort. Her breath grew heavy, the sense of foreboding setting in. Burying her face into the hard bones of her knees, she struggled against her chest wracking with affliction. The pure anguish of the situation hit her, far worse than it had in the hallway. She desperately clung onto her breath not wanting to make a sound, tears smothering the entirety of her face. Her arms were firmly wrapped about her head, her nails digging into the tops of her arms, clinging onto any part of reality that wasn’t being deadened by her continuous fear.

She suffered a disjointed sob, drawing a further deep breath through her teeth. Her body shook with the deeply embedded desolation. 

She hadn’t noticed the figure stood to her right as she continued to sink further into her melancholy, her form violently trembling with mournful weeps. 

There was a masculine, pitiful exhale that filled the claustrophobic space. 

From the sound, she let one bloodshot eye take a peak above her arms, perceiving a blurry staunch figure who was instantly recognisable.

Embarrassment entangled her as she realised how she might’ve appeared. Her voice sounded broken as she whispered a quick apology, drawing her limbs closer to her torso.

He continued with what he was doing, flipping open the mirrored cabinet above the sink.

All she could do was turn her head in the opposite direction to hide her obvious flushed face and tear stained cheeks. She heard his rusting around but was too humiliated to look.

Hearing his footsteps echoing away and the door closing once again, she turned to take a peek. There was a thin blue and white dressing gown led over the edge of the bath, it hadn’t been there before. She took that as a sign to leave the tepid soak, finishing up in the bath, placing on her chemise and French knickers that were mostly dry. It would have to suffice for the night. She assumed this dressing gown was left for her, delicately placing it upon her person and tying it tight.

She padded down the hallway, taking quick,quiet steps to the living room. Anticipating his presence in the sitting room, she felt she would have to turn back and lock herself in the bathroom for the rest of the night. She couldn’t face him again, she felt completely mortified after he’d seen her in that state.

Perching on the chesterfield, making herself somewhat comfortable, she peered down at the coffee table in front of her, her eyes landed on the patient case file that the other doctor had left. Curiosity overtook her, she took a cautionate glance at the space before flipping open the blue folder to take a peak. She had wondered what the two were discussing earlier. 

Her breath caught after taking in the symptoms. It was the usual symptoms of something like influenza, high temperature, fever, sore throat, difficulty breathing and swollen glands in the neck. It was sounding a lot like what her uncle had caught, but how could they not see it was a kind of flu? Was there something else they were missing? There were updated notes too, scrawled in the typical hard-read writing of a doctor. 

It was affecting his heart. 

‘What have I told you about patient confidentiality?’ 

‘It's just some.. Reading..’ Was all she could stutter, she was quite lost for words after jumping out of her skin at his abrupt emergence.

His eyebrows seemed to quirk in amusement ‘Can you not see the amount of books on the shelves around you?’

‘Yes I know, but, Dr Wilson was urging you to read this and you still wouldn’t. I thought I might have a look to see what you were avoiding. Well, I can see why...’ 

‘It's not the flu.’ House stated bluntly.

She sighed at his forthrightness, she was quite familiar with it now. ‘I was just…Starting to see the similarity it had to a relative’s death..’ She couldn't stand looking him in the eyes after her confession, she felt he might just laugh in her face.

His questions were quick and direct yet her willingness to answer was becoming restrained ‘What did they die from?’.

‘Distemper- no, uh? I can’t remember - I don’t like to think about it.’ Her eyes were visibly glazed, her eyes squinting when racking her brain for the given name of the illness.

He pushed further ‘You can’t remember any symptoms?’

Swallowing gravely, she continued ‘Well, they found a grey coating in their throat after they died. The doctor was too late to see it before. Their um.. Heart was weak from birth, so we barely saw symptoms before they passed. But it-it was like your patient…The um, cough and fever..’ 

His eyes seemed to focus on a point in front of him, his pupils constricting. His mind was whirring, connecting dots. 

‘A Pseudomembrane. So it was bacteria?’  

She looked clueless, wanting to shake her head in apprehensive confusion. He went on to pull a small rectangular silver case from his pocket, snapping it open and tapping a couple buttons on it, eventually holding it to his ear.

‘Corynebacterium diphtheriae. Have you checked inside the patient's nose? I think you'll find we're dealing with bacterial disease instead of a virus.’

There was a pause before he interrupted the murmur coming from the other end  ‘-then dose him up on antibiotics and monitor his heart damage. Yes, I know you’ve found it’s myocarditis, so put him on anti-inflammatories and any other pain killers he’ll whine for. He’ll survive.’ Flipping the silver item, supposedly a phone, closed after rambling to the person on the other end, he examined the lady before him. Other than the slight scrunch about his eyes, his visage appeared completely blank. 

Gasping as if he were to speak, he held his tongue to look upon her, further studying her face. He sat on the other end of the settee, lowering himself down slowly, holding his leg as he did so. Making himself comfortable, he placed his cane upon the table in front of them.

‘Who was this relative then?’ His words seemed to strike a nerve. She seemed to render a sorrowful glint in her eyes. ‘Who was it?’ He pressed.

‘My brother, the oldest.’ 

‘You have a brother?’ It wasn’t like he already knew, after reading up on her all day, he just wanted to hear it from her. He cruelly wanted to see if she had rehearsed the entirety of the historical documents he had found on the web, pitilessly trying to trip her up.

She only nodded, she was hesitant to give away any more information on her personal life, but she still stated that she once had four male siblings.

‘I’m sorry.’ Stating it unremorsefully, he still exhibited an unreadable blank expression.

He didn’t remain seated for long, making his way back to the kitchen in his usual slow walk. He returned, after a bit of rusting in the other room, carrying glasses and a bottle of unidentifiable amber alcohol. Pouring about an inches worth into both glasses, he passed one over to the accompanying female who took a reserved sip, brushing her tongue along her lip to identify the taste.

Reaching into her chestnut coloured handbag, she pulled out her ornate cigarette case, opening it to offer one to House who was sprawled out on the sofa.

‘I don’t smoke.’

Pulling an inquisitive grin she spoke ‘If you don’t, then why have an ashtray?’.

‘Decoration?’ His voice dripped with sarcasm.

She chuckled lightly at his comment. He did indeed take a straight, placing it at his lip as she sparked the metal lighter beneath it.

Doing the same for herself, the room became slightly hazy with the wispy smoke.

He appeared content with the taste ‘What are these then?’

‘Fribourg & Treyer, I have them when I'm in London.’ She gave a frolicsome smile ‘I’m not actually allowed to smoke, my father prohibits it.’

He made a humming sound, prompting her to continue. His interest was getting the better of him.

‘He’s a little old-fashioned, doesn’t believe women should smoke, he believes I’m starting to resemble the scandalous city girls. Not very fair considering my brother’s are happily welcomed to, and in his company. I mean one smokes a pipe, one does snuff for Heaven’s sake!’ Lamenting on the disparity of it all, she still displayed an impish grin.

His lips seemed to curl into a sort of smile as she spoke candidly. 

‘What happened to your knee?’ He kept firing questions, one after the other. 

She glanced down, finding the dressing gown was revealing the skin just above her knees. Readjusting the fabric she formed a response; ‘It's just a scrape, there’s nothing special about it. Anyway, are you ever going to stop interrogating me? I mean, you haven’t given me the chance to ask my own questions yet.’ 

‘Looks like you’ve been running, it’s elongated.’

She paused to flick her head away, looking back at him quickly again in discomfort, sharply stubbing out her cigarette.

‘Yes.. But that doesn’t matter.’

Regardless, he persisted ‘Who were you running from?’ 

‘I was just scared, alright?’ She exclaimed, nervously holding an odd smile. 

It was deathly silent between them. The cars on the street outside echoed noisily throughout the front room. 

‘Go on then, what were you going to ask me? No doubt it's going to be about my leg.’ 

She shook her head ‘That’s not for me to ask. I wanted to know what made you want to become a doctor?’.

‘I was greatly and passionately inspired by Patch Adams.’ He sounded dreamy, but she unperceived the underlying sarcasm.

‘I’ve never heard of them before? Did you know them?’

Bursting with an obnoxious laugh, he looked upon her as she rolled her eyes. There was no point trying to get any information out of him, House always found ways to deflect.

Leaning forward he forced himself to stand, hastily swallowing the rest of his nightcap, he began to stagger towards his bedroom. He gave one last comment before departing for good;

‘I know what you did.’ It was ominous. His back was still facing her.

‘I didn’t think you would have it in you to steal.’

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I hope you are enjoying it so far! This is going to end up being chock-full of metaphors XD

'Who Are You' - The Who 1978

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Tag list:

@indestructeible @suziek415

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~ I really have enjoyed my stay, but I must be moving on ~

#house #house md #housemd #drhouse #dr house #greg house #greg house x reader #gregoryhousexreader #housexreader #house md x reader #house x reader #1920s #1920s fanfic #historical fanfiction #dr house x reader #x reader #reader insert

[beyondsuki]

Star - Shine

Star

/stär/

a fixed luminous point in the night sky which is a large, remote incandescent body like the sun.

Toji Fushiguro

The woman in the ring

Instagram - Masterlist

Pairing: MmaFighter!Fushiguro Toji x black f!reader

Genre: Romance, Smut, Angst

Summary: What happens when you help MMA fighter Fushiguro Toji —unbeknownst to him—in his time of need?

Toji thought himself a simple man. A simple man who had never fallen in love. Although he would never audibly admit that.

Yes, there was a period in his life when he was married but he never truly felt there. He was young, and a star on the rise. Temptation was all around him yet he stayed faithful and committed to his vows. For five years he was betrothed. Tied down, trapped. For five years his marriage was perilous.

The cause of the divorce was an affair accusation. She thought he was sleeping with a journalist. A journalist? He laughed when she vocalized her concerns. She was incandescent. “You really think that I would sleep with a journalist?” That one sentence matured into a fight neither of them came back from.

He left that night and returned the next morning with divorce papers. He allowed her to keep the house while he now resides in a penthouse that overlooks the city. Every once in a while, a feeling of penitence washes over him and leaves him wondering whether or not he should’ve just stayed. “Toji! Hurry up, we have to get going, the fight is about to start.” He finished wrapping his fists. He grabbed his silk robe off its hook and slipped it on. The coolness of it lasted a few seconds longer than usual before latching on to his body heat. As he walked out and the routine cheering of his fans filled his senses, an unfamiliar face in the crowd caught his eye.

You work hard. You’re currently in medical school earning your M.D. so you can cross the finish line with the label and job title ‘Neurosurgeon’. “(Y/N) Come onn why not?!” Your friend Stacey from your class based solely on muscles was trying to get you to come to watch a fight. “We are in Medical School Stace, why do you want to see people hurting themselves deliberately?!” “It’s not even about that for real.” She said tucking her brown hair behind her ear. Her green eyes flashing with a fierce incentive. “Then what is it about?” “Have you seen Toji Fushiguro!?” “No. And I don’t want to see him.” She pulled out her phone “Let me just show you.” You rolled your eyes and sighed heavily knowing you wouldn’t be able to win this fight. She pulled up a picture and tilted the phone toward you. “Wow.” He is.. “I know right!! So let’s goo I literally bought two tickets and they weren’t cheap.” “Fine.” She had finally persuaded you into getting ready.

You readied yourself and are now sitting in the front row of the Fushiguro Toji vs Alexei Morozov fight waiting for the star fighter to come out. A coalescence of music and loud screaming invaded your ears making you turn your head towards the back. He was much larger than you imagined. Standing at, at least 6’5 this burly man managed to win the hearts of more than a few thirst quenched women. His sinewy muscles stuck out like a sore thumb. And his very presence left a bitter sweet taste in your mouth.

Someone slapped your shoulder dragging you out of your daydream “He’s looking over here oh my god!?” His gaze robbed you of an essential part of human homeostasis—your breath.

You ripped your eyes away from his and looked to the floor. When he walked on stage and his back was to you, you looked up again. You watched as the ‘Fushiguro’ on his silk robe morphed as he slipped it off. When the fight started you winced at the first punch. Tricep, Bicep, Latissimus dorsi, gluteus medius. You named the muscles being hit as practice due to yet another test the next day. Suddenly, Fushiguro was hit in the head and started bleeding.. a lot. You stood out of habit to get a closer look. The ‘medic’ that was attempting to stop the bleeding was failing miserably at her job. You pushed past the journalists and photographers.

“You need to apply pressure!” You yelled trying to get as close as possible. “Ma’am I’m gonna need you to back up.” Some guy with long hair said. “I know I know but your medic is not helping him. She needs to apply pressure to stop the bleeding and he needs to be stitched immediately.” The man looked back at the ‘medic’ staring at the fighter with goo-goo eyes. He pursed his lips and lifted the tape. You walked through and made your way to the mat. You tapped on the woman’s shoulder “Excuse me” she moved out of the way instinctively. “Hello Mr. Fushiguro.” You said while sliding your hands through a pair of latex gloves.

He looked at you confused. “You don’t know me but I’m here to help you.” You took some gauze from the pile of medical supplies and applied pressure to the cut above his eyebrow. You were wearing a black skirt with a white button-down top that slightly exposed your cleavage. His gaze could be felt even under the angry burn of the lights. You frantically searched the pile for an alcohol wipe. Once you found one you held it up to him “Rip.” He did as you asked “This is going to sting.” He pulled air through his teeth as you cleaned it. “Is there thread over there?” You asked the former ‘medic’ who just stood there in awe “Hello?” “O-oh me?” “Who else would I be talking to?” You said. Words coming out laced with venom “I-uh no there’s not.” “Of course not..” you glanced down. Next best thing you thought as you picked up some glue.

You applied it to the wound and squeezed. You grabbed some tape that specialized in holding wounds together and placed it on the cut. “Rag,” you said to the girl. She quickly handed you a rag and you wiped the sweat, dirt, and blood off the fighter's face. You paused for a moment as you looked into his eyes. The one thing you’d been avoiding all night. Brown pools of the sweetest honey. You snapped out of it though when you felt his large hands on your waist. He gently moved you out of the way to get up. You felt heat crawl up your neck, feeling grateful that your brown skin hid the blush appearing. This was when you noticed all the blood that stained your shirt.

You left the ring entering back into reality as you searched for your brunette friend. As you were removing your gloves you heard a familiar voice. “Oh my god!- Will you leave me the fuck alone! She’s my friend and I’m a doctor!” The man with raven hair lifted the tape reluctantly and Stacey ran over to you “Oh my god! How was it?! What was he like!?” She said frantically trying to look behind you to get a glimpse of the fight from up close. “We didn’t really talk..” “But I saw you talking?” “I was talking to the ‘Medic’” you said making air quotes. “Oh..”

You walked over to a man with white hair wearing a shirt labeled ‘Manager’ leaving your overly excited friend on her own. “Excuse me? Do you happen to have a shirt I could borrow?” “Hmm..” he hummed as he tapped his index finger on his lip “I do have an extra one but…” “But?” “It’s his” Oh “It should be fine. He doesn’t ever wear it.” He turned around revealing the ‘Fushiguro’ on his back. He walked to his bag and came back with a shirt. “Here.” “Thank you.” “Please hurry, it looks like we’ll be needing you again soon.” You glanced back at the fight just as Fushiguro took a hit.

You took the shirt and went to the nearest bathroom. You changed out of your button-down blouse and into the one Fushiguro’s manager had gifted you. It was huge. It stopped just before your skirt ended and it was three times the width you were. You placed your shirt in your bag and then went back to the ring.

You stepped in as they were hydrating him. “Hello again Mr. Fushiguro,” He nodded, his eye starting to swell. After slipping into another pair of gloves, you grabbed an ice pack and slapped it in your hand to get it to activate. “Hold this here.” You said to the girl. She obliged and you began to tend to his bleeding shoulder. You grabbed the bottle of alcohol and a cotton round. “You might need to hold on to something for this one.” Just then, you felt his hands on your hips. A chill ran down your spine causing you to pause. They were so warm.

You let out a tremulous breath and resumed to tend to his wound. He tightened his grip when you applied the round. “Sorry.” You apologized. He just stared at you. “What’s your name?” He spoke finally. “(Y/N)” “(Y/N)..” he repeated back, almost dazed “That’s me.” You finished cleaning his wound and could now move on to patching it. Once you were done you moved out of the way—well, at least you tried but he kept you there, in place. “Mr. Fushiguro- I- the round is starting in 10 seconds.” You said, your tone incredulous “Find me after the fight.” “What?” “Gotta go.” He moved you out of the way and stood up.

You left the ring confused once again. You took the gloves off and decided to watch the rest from where you were standing. Fushiguro ended up winning causing an uproar in the arena. Stacey on the other hand hit it off with some journalist. “Are you sure you don’t need a ride?” “Positive.” “Okay! See you tomorrow.” She walked away giddy. You tapped on a blonde man wearing a Fushiguro shirt. “Um- Excuse me?” He turned around “I was told to find Mr. Fushiguro after the fight?” He cocked his eyebrow while his eyes scanned your body. “By who?” “Mr. Fushiguro…” Just then the man with the white hair came out “Kento what the fuck? Why isn’t she halfway to Toji already?” The man shrugged. “C’mon,” the manager led you through the tunnels to where you assumed the fighter would be. “He’s right in there.” He said pointing at a room labeled ‘Fushiguro Toji’ “W-wait you’re not coming in?” “Oh no, I don’t bother him after fights.”

You cautiously walked over to the door and gave a light knock. “Move.” You heard from behind the door. “Hi..” you said when he opened the door. His face was smug “Hi.” He smirked. Your eyes traveled down his figure. He was lacking a shirt, revealing his sinewy abdomen. “Everybody out.” “But sir- we haven’t finished your trea-“ “She’ll handle it.” He opened the door wide enough for the nurses to leave while he leaned against the frame. They all gave you dirty looks as they made their way out. “You just gonna stand there?” He said walking back to his seat. You walked in and closed the door behind you. He cocked his eyebrow “So this is that kind of visit?” “W-what?! I-I didn’t know if y-you wanted privacy!” He laughed “I’m teasing.” You shook your head while he chuckled. A deep, sexy chuckle. One that made you tingle and throb in all the right places. “I knew that..” “Oh did you now?” “I did.” You said before walking over and grabbing the medical supplies.

Toji felt a chills where your fingers graced his back. “Y’know..most people are scared of me.” He said slightly looking back “You? No way” You said, sarcasm laced in your words as you applied ointment to a few of his wounds. “Your possy seemed to have no problems with you. I mean, they all looked pretty disappointed when they had to leave” “Tch yeah...no matter how many times I kick them out they never get used to it.” You laughed. Toji felt his heart flutter. You walked around to his front, moving his slightly sweaty hair out of the way to look at the scar you had patched earlier. “Everything looks good. Well, not good but you know.” Your eyes scanned his face, skillfully avoiding his eyes. “How’d you get that?” You pointed to the scar on his lip. “Accident.” You finally found his eyes. “..You are a vague man.” You felt your pockets. “Do you mind?” You asked, showing him your chapstick. “Only if you come back to my place.”

You froze and tried to read his expression but you couldn’t. You smiled “I don’t give it up that easily.” He grabbed your wrists and slightly pulled you forward. “You sure?” Yes “…no” he cracked a smile and you applied the chapstick. Dipping it slightly when you reach his scar. “Is that a yes?” “Only if you want it to be.” Your heart was beating so loud you were sure he could hear it. He stared at your lips and you sheepishly glanced at his.

He let your wrists go and your lips connected. You felt a burning heat erupt in the very pit of your stomach. You’ve kissed men before but never like this. You loosely wrapped your arms around his neck as you stood up straighter. You both pulled away at the same time. He swiped his tongue over his teeth before standing up. Your arms fell back at your side as he grabbed his shirt and slipped it over his head. He grabbed his bag and then your hand. It was so large in comparison that he completely encased it. “Mr. Fushiguro wher-“ “Toji.” “What?” “Call me Toji.” He said looking back at you. You were struggling to keep up with his long strides. “Toji.” “Yes?” “Where are we going?” “You’ll see.” You walked with him as he pulled you through the tunnels.

On your way there, more of his security started to surround you. When you finally made it out you entered an epileptic’s worst nightmare. You put your arm over your eyes to help shield them from the flashing lights. You felt Toji’s arm wrap around you as you pushed through the photographers.

You sighed when you finally reached the car. “Shit.” “It’s not over.” You watched as they migrated around the car. You finally pulled off and you were on your way. When you arrived, paparazzi swarmed the car once again. His security opened his door and he got out. He then helped you out of the car. As you walked, your hand slipped out of his and you began to drown in the sea of paparazzi. You fell and scraped one of your knees.

Toji stopped immediately after he no longer felt your hand in his. “Mr. Fushiguro! Mr. Fushiguro!” He pushed five reporters out of the way with one swing of his arm. Suddenly, you felt yourself being picked up, bridal style. “T-Toji I can walk.” “I’m not letting you get run over again.” He carried you into the lobby and to the elevator before setting you down. He opened the door to his penthouse when you got there and told you to sit on the couch “Yes sir.” You said throwing your hands up.

He disappeared into a room and when he reappeared he was holding a first aid kit. He set it on the couch as he knelt between your thighs. “Oh Toji you really don-“ he glanced up at you, causing your talking to cease. He cleaned it with an alcohol wipe and as he placed the bandaid on your knee, he looked up at you. “Thank you..”

He squeezed as his hand traveled further up your skirt. “Let me know if you want me to stop.” You nodded slowly. When he got to your panties he swiped his thumb across the wet spot. You shuddered and closed your eyes. “Aht aht. Look at me.” You opened them again to look into his. You felt him use his other hand to pull your panties to the side and open your legs wider. “What a pretty pussy…and so wet too.” He ran a finger through your folds and you tried to close your legs. He held them open and rubbed circles on your puffy clit. “Fuck..” you said, breathless.

He pulled at the hem of your lace panties before sliding them off. He placed them in his pocket before sliding his middle and ring fingers into his mouth. He went back to rubbing your clit as he slid a finger inside. A loud moan ripped through your throat. You placed a hand on his shoulder for stability. He slipped another finger in and curled them. You trembled. He stood up as he fingered you, placing a knee on the couch.

He began to kiss you, traveling down your neck with sloppy, wet kisses. Kisses that left you wanting more. Lewd squelching filled the room as his fingers fucked into you tirelessly. Suddenly, you felt your stomach tighten and your moaning became louder. You tried to speak but nothing came out. “Are you gonna cum? Hmm?” He hummed against your neck sending chills down your spine. He could tell by the way you were clamping down on him that your orgasm was near.

Chills ran down your entire body when he spoke to you. “You gonna cum on my fingers? Hm? Go ahead…make a mess for me.” “Tojii” you spoke finally. You let out a loud whine as you came around his fingers. “Good girl” he said as he helped you ride out your orgasm.

You watched through half lidded eyes as he slid his fingers out and placed them into his mouth. He sucked them clean and pulled them out with a ‘pop’. You felt yourself being picked up and carried. He laid you down on his bed, “I’m gonna go shower. Do not touch yourself until I get back.” You nodded “I need words.” “Yes daddy” You said, your voice feigning innocence. Toji felt his cock twitch. He walked away and to the bathroom. You writhed on the bed, more horny then you’ve ever been. About twenty minutes later Toji came out in just a towel.

You sat upright. You looked so small on his abnormally large bed. He walked over to you and you could feel the blush creeping up on you. The towel he wore didn’t cover much. He placed his fingers on your jaw and lifted your head to make sure you looked him in the eye. “There’s no turning back after I start.” He said with an expression that made you feral. You nodded. “Words.” “O-okay” he smiled. He leaned in and kissed you. It was deep and sexy. The way he grabbed your neck with his warm, calloused hand. The way he moved them across your body. Squishing the plush of your ass, stomach, and thighs as if he was memorizing every inch of you.

He started to kiss down your neck. You shuddered underneath him as you let him take full control. You felt his hands slide up your shirt as he kissed and licked around your collarbone. He unhooked your bra with ease and slid it off under your shirt. “Leave the shirt on.” He’s been wanting to fuck you in it since you first put it on. It was bunched up over your breasts. He sat back to admire you. “So pretty…” before you could be embarrassed, he ran his tongue over a nipple. You moaned as your hands found purchase in his short cut raven hair. He bit, pinched, and soothed with his tongue.

He guided you out of your skirt and licked his fingers. He slowly rubbed down your slit, smearing the cum from twenty minutes prior. Placing his hands on your knees, he pushed them towards your chest. He squeezed on your thighs before wrapping his arms around them and pulling you to the edge of the bed. He made his tongue flat and wide as he licked up your cunt. You shivered with a moan “fuckk”. You placed your hand in his hair and tried to push him away. Everything was so sensitive. Too sensitive. You felt him smirk against your pussy as he held you against him with more force. He was enjoying this as much—if not more than you were. He loved the way you smelled, the way you writhed under him with every touch, the way you sounded. Everything about you was sheer perfection in his eyes.

You whined as he hummed into you. Your legs shook as a thin layer of sweat started to coat your skin. “Toji..” “Hm?” He hummed. “I’m- ouu” you couldn’t get the words out. “What is it baby?” “I-I’m uh-gonna c-um” “mm cum on my tongue princess.” And almost as if on command, your orgasm washed over you.

Once again, he helped you ride it out. Lapping up your orgasm along the way. You panted as he backed away. Even through half-lidded eyes you could see the glistening of his chin from your juices. He wiped his mouth with his arm and then bent down to kiss you. The kiss was sloppy and allowed you to taste yourself. You moaned into it and that was his last straw. He pulled his towel off and threw it to the floor, allowing you to see a glimpse of exactly how big he was. You quivered when you felt him rub his tip through your folds. He kissed you again and you gasped when you felt him slowly sink into you.

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you felt him stretch you. He kissed them as you dug your nails into his shoulders, creating little crescent moon impressions. “I know, I know. You’re doing so good for me baby.” Butterflies erupted in your stomach as you slightly relaxed. “That’s it, just r-relax” his hot breath fanned against your ear. He pushed his lips into your swollen ones. Swollen from how much abuse they had adhered from both you and him. He swallowed your whine as he pushed all the way in. “Shit s-so tight.” his voice broke as he almost bottomed out. He sat there for a moment letting you adjust to his size. After a few moments he felt your grip on his shoulder loosen a bit. “P-please move T-toji” he obliged and moved slowly at first, giving the pain a chance to cease.

The moans you released were like music to his ears. The way you tried to talk but ended up just babbling something that ended with his name. “Faster.” You managed to get out. He obliged once again. The room was filled with lewd slapping and squelching noises. He buried his head into your neck allowing you to smell his..vanilla shampoo?

“(Y/N) fuck- your pussy’s s-ucking me I-in so goood mm” he was practically whining. His words turned you on even more. “ouu” you moaned next to his ear. He backed away to sit up on his knees. He looked down to see the ring of white that sat at the base of his cock. Watching the way he completely disappeared inside of you. He moved his hand down to your clit and rubbed in slow circles as he fucked into you. Your moaning crescendoed and your legs shook. “Wait wait- ouu fuck wait.” You put your hand out in an attempt to get him to slow his strokes. He intertwined his fingers with yours as he continued to play with your sensitive nub. Tears graced your lashes as the shaking became more intense. “You gonna cum? Hm? Cum with me baby. Can you do that?” You were clamping down on him so good.

That familiar knot in your stomach was about to snap. He leaned into your neck anew. You bit down on his shoulder as you ran your nails down his back. “Tojii- ouu- mm I’m gonna- shit I’m gonna c-cum.” Your eyes rolled back and your vision went white when you came. Your entire body shook as his thrusts became sloppy. He whined as he pulled out and came on your stomach and shirt. He leaned his forehead against yours as you both caught your breath and came down from your high.

He peppered kisses all around your face as your body relaxed. “You did so good.” Was the last thing you really heard him say.

He went to the bathroom and cleaned himself up. He threw on a pair of boxers before coming back into the room. He cleaned your stomach and thighs with a warm towel making sure to be extra gentle. He pulled that shirt off of you and replaced it with the top to his green silk pajamas. You looked so cute in his large shirt. He then carried you to the bathroom and sat you down on the toilet. “(Y/N), wake up.” You opened your eyes to find a squatting Toji in front of you. From what you could make out, he had green pajama bottoms on with no shirt.

“What?” You were so cute. “You need to pee.” You nodded slowly. “Can you turn around?” You said, slurring the words together. He laughed. “(Y/N).” “Mhm?” “We just fucked.” “So? Nobody can pee with a six foot five man staring them down...” You said in protest. “Absolutely adorable…fine.” He turned around and you peed. When you were finished he helped you to the sink and then carried you back to bed. He covered you and then grabbed your clothes from earlier. He put them in the washing machine and cut all the lights off.

When he got in bed, you were facing away from him. He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you close. He kissed the top of your head before slowly drifting to sleep with you.

@kazushawty

#jjk smut #toji x y/n #jujutsu toji #toji fic #toji fushiguro #toji x black y/n #toji x black reader #black reader #female #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #nanami kento #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen satoru #jjk geto #jjk x y/n #jjk nanami #jjk fanfic #jujutsu geto #jujutsu sukuna #jujutsu sorcerer #jujutsu kaisen #japan #black femininity #jujutsu megumi #jujutsu kaisen megumi #megumi fushiguro #fushiguro x y/n #jujutsu kaisen fushiguro #fushiguro toji x reader

[sentinelpri]

A Cold Winter’s Night Spent In Your Arms

Wind howls outside the four walls of your apartment as you curl up in your king-sized bed, waiting for your husband to get home.

It’s freezing cold. Through the glass window in the bedroom, your (e/c) eyes put together the sight of snow piling up on the roads of New Jersey. The frozen water droplets are colored like cotton and fall like feathers. The snow contrasts the pitch black sky in a way that makes you feel nostalgic for last winter; James took off to spend the holidays with you for once in his life, and the two of you went to his family’s cabin to stay for a week. You remember it being romantic and relieving from the chaos from your normal lives working at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital.

Finally, after what feels like forever, the front door unlocks. You know it’s James based on the sound of the light, gentle footsteps that come increasingly closer to the bedroom. Within the next minute, James walks into your shared bedroom and lays in bed next to you. The bed frame creaks with his added weight before he settles and wraps his arms around you from behind, his strong body like another warm blanket. You let out a sigh of relief. Having him close to you on nights like this feels like relief.

“Sorry I’m late, honey,” He apologizes with a kiss pressed into the back of your (h/l) (h/c) hair. “I ended up driving House back to his apartment, and by the time I finished dropping him off, the storm had gotten pretty bad…”

“It’s alright,” You calmly reassure the oncologist and wriggle around in his arms so you can face him. His chocolate brown eyes are tired and decorated with bags underneath them that are the most prominent they’ve been since you’ve known him. “Are you going to come to bed?”

“Sure, just give me a few. I’ve gotta go do a couple things in the kitchen,” Then, as fast as he came to the bedroom, he leaves. You sit up with the blankets wrapped around your shoulders and stare down at the bedsheets. Normally, the two of you would’ve gotten ff at the same time and gone home together, but he had a patient going downihill that he wanted to stay with in case anything happened. Low and behold, there just so happened to be a dire case that the diagnostics team had to handle as well, which stressed him out even more. Right now, it’s past midnight, nearly seven hours after his shift is supposed to end. When he comes back to the bedroom, he’s dressed in nothing but boxers and has a large mug in his hands. “Here.”

Wilson hands you the mug, which you hold with both hands. It’s perfectly warm hot chocolate topped with marshmallows and whipped cream. 

“Oh, thanks,” You murmur.

“It’s the least I can do for keeping you waiting up on me like this.”

“How was the rest of your shift?”

“Honestly? It sucked,” James sighs and takes a seat right next to you. You offer him your blankets, so he scoots so close that your shoulders are touching and readjusts them so they’re wrapped over both of your shoulders. Then, he pulls his knees to his chest and begins to talk. “House ran out of Vicodin and I was too busy with the patient on my floor dying to write him a script, so he was pretty pissed off at me- Cuddy was out sick, Chase and Cameron are doing their usual on and off again thing, so they were bickering all day, and Foreman is the only sane one there but you can just tell he’s seconds from falling apart and it is incredibly concerning.”

“You said all of that without pausing to breathe,” You chuckle and shoot him a worried glance as you sip on the hot chocolate. “You good?”

“The only thing that got me through it was the thought that I’d get to come home to you after it was all done with,” He admits.

“I’m sorry you had a rough shift,” You finish half of the chocolate, then hand the rest to James, who accepts it with a smile and a nod.

“No, no, it’s my fault for staying,” He insists, downs what’s left in the mug in his hands, then sets said mug on the nightstand.  “I was supposed to get off early for our dinner date today and-”

“Health and death don’t work on a schedule- they just can’t, and with your line of work, things are incredibly time sensitive. Your patient was knocking on death’s door and you were worried, and it seems like House’s team was going through a lot too- and that’s on top of the snowstorm,” You reassure James again, which makes his chocolate brown eyes widen. A look of surprise takes over them, which doesn’t shock you- the common debilitator of most of his marriage was how often he was gone with Greg or gone because of work, but you’ve both learned to compromise and make time for each other while still prioritizing both of your jobs. “You had no way of knowing today was going to be like that when you made the dinner reservations last week, and I was able to call and cancel them when you asked if I wouldn’t mind you staying late tonight, so we didn’t inconvenience any of the staff there either. It’s okay.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Wilson says with a sigh of relief and wraps an arm over your shoulder to pull you close. “You’re the best.”

“I try,” You chuckle and lean against his large, warm frame. 

“Didn’t you say you were cold?” Wilson questions and wraps his arms around your body so he can pull you into his lap. He rests his chin on your shoulder and circles his arms back around your frame from behind. “I could probably warm you up a bit if you’d like.”

“Oh, yeah? How do you intend on doing that?”

“I can show you,” He whispers with a kiss to the side of your neck.

“Go ahead,” You whisper back, and with that, he’s dragging you down to lay on the mattress with him and pushing his lips against yours.

#house #house md #hatecrimes md #house md fanfiction #house m.d. #house m.d. fanfiction #james wilson #james wilson x reader #drabble #drabbles #oneshot #oneshots #formatting is way better on ao3 if you would like to go read this there lol

[shmaptainwrites]

𝐌𝐈𝐌𝐈'𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐘

INFO —

This is a little idea I had the other day to help me find my fellow James Wilson fans so I’m hoping this reaches the right people! Essentially, if you choose to participate your username will be put into a random draw and first place will be able to request a SFW James Wilson x Reader one shot from me and second and third place will be able to request blurbs!

Lottery will be open from Feb 1st 2024 to Feb 15th 2024

RULES —

Reblog this post!

Reblog my House M.D. masterlist linked here

Send me an ask off anon saying you’d like to be added into the lottery (link here)

ADDITIONAL NOTES —

Make sure your settings let me reach you by DM in case you win

I am still in the progress of watching the show and have currently seen up to S3 E12 and am trying to avoid spoilers!

As mentioned above all requests must be SAFE FOR WORK (we can discuss in a little bit more detail what you would like if you win what this implies but essentially the big deal is no explicit smut)

Reblogs help content creators! This is a bit of an exercise in reblogging content as well so don’t forget that step

If you want to be added to my taglist fill out this google form!

Thank you in advance to anyone who chooses to participate and support! If you have any questions don't hesitate to come into my ask and to clarify! Can’t wait to share more of my fics and ideas with you all <3

#mimi chats #house md #james wilson #james wilson x reader #james wilson x you #hate crimes md #greg house #robert chase #eric foreman #allison cameron #lisa cuddy #house md x reader #james wilson fanfiction #james wilson fanfic #james wilson fic

[wilson-the-gay-oncologist]

Most of the tags I have followed

#hate crimes md #hilson #james wilson #house md #gregory house #robert sean leonard #house x wilson #greg house #house md edit #house m.d. #judge me idc #help #i'm so odd #artists on tumblr #hilsonisms original #league of villains #norman osborn #norman osborn x otto octavius #norman osborn x reader #ollie fortnite #octogoblin #otto and peter #otto fanart #otto octavius #doc ock #ottoman #oc rp #oc #oc art #montage