#greg house

[proudravenclawbird]

House MD headcanon

Okay. WHAT IF....

After the ending of Season 8, after House and Wilson ride together into the sunset, they travel around the world one day go visit Cuddy cuz they used to be a trio until the end of season 7. Maybe House apologizes or smthg and Cuddy reluctantly forgives House. And then the 3 spend some time together, share memories, talk about PPTH before House and Wilson leave to complete rest of their trip(s)

[flyingraysonz]

"i am hugh laurie and i am the voice of dumbledore" girl stop fucking around get back in the hospital we have patients to treat

[itwasiwhodiscovered]

Ok wait I just discovered a subgenre of fics where House has to treat characters from other fandoms and how did I not know this was a thing?!?

So far I’ve read fics where he’s treated John Watson (BBC), Sam Winchester, Crowley (Good Omens), and Castiel. PLEASE share if you’ve got crossover recs! EDIT: Links for the needy! Crossover fandom listed in parenthesis. Angel on my Shoulder (Good Omens) by HerMajestyofLichtenstein On Tuesdays We Fall (Supernatural) by HerMajestyofLichtenstein - Complete but author hinted at more stories in this universe coming! Wayward and Cynical (Supernatural) by Radiioblabla - WIP but the first chapter reads like a oneshot (to me at least) I owe you (BBC's Sherlock) by Aradia_ld - WIP

[wool-and-writing]

wip three: house and wilson shower fic

this is pre-relationship & they're both fully clothed. house has just stopped looking after himself bc he's low on energy, so wilson has managed to coax him to sit on a stool in the shower and let wilson wash his hair for him.

house is being grumpy because he hates any kind of intimacy/vulnerability. wilson just wants to look after his best friend.

there are some moments in this fic that I really like, so I dont want to delete it. but I started writing it when I started watching housemd so I'm struggling to continue it because i now feel like the characterisation isnt accurate.

[inkandvicodin]

ahh love ur fics, could u make one where house helps reader while she’s going into labour

>>> Our Dawn <<<

Summery: Terrified by the ghosts of past losses, Y/N goes into premature labor at home, forcing House to shed his cynical armor, defy hospital protocol, and personally guide their miracle rainbow baby into the world.

Pairing: Gregory House x f!reader

Genre: Soft house, Whump (Emotional), Hurt/Comfort (Heavy), Post-Trauma, Domestic

Note: This fic is a mix between two requests, the other being:

Could you do one where reader gives birth to her and Houses rainbow baby? - @clownquirks

The pain didn’t start with a dramatic burst of water or a sharp scream. It started as a low, cruel ache in the small of your back at three in the morning, whispering a familiar terror into the dark bedroom.

You sat up instantly, clutching your swollen abdomen, your breath catching in your throat. No. Please, God, no. Not yet.You were only thirty-four weeks. The memories rushed back like a tidal wave—the sudden cramps of your first miscarriage, the quiet, devastating silence of the ultrasound room during the second, and the agonizing, premature labor at twenty-four weeks that had stolen your third baby before he could even take a breath.

Beside you, the mattress shifted. House was awake, his sharp blue eyes instantly cutting through the shadows. He didn't ask if you were okay; he knew the exact shade of pale your face turned when the trauma resurfaced.

"How far apart?" his voice was rough with sleep, but his hands were already steady as he reached for you.

"Ten minutes," you whispered, a tear slipping down your cheek. "Greg, it’s happening again. It’s too early. My body is failing her again."

"Hey," House growled softly, gripping your chin, forcing you to look at him. The cynical, sarcastic doctor was gone; his eyes were fiercely alive with a protective desperation. "Look at my face. Thirty-four weeks is not twenty-four. Her lungs are ready. You are ready. We are going to the hospital, and we are bringing our daughter home."

The trip to Princeton-Plainsboro was a blur of blinding headlights and agonizing, tightening waves of pain. By the time House wheeled you through the doors of the ER, you were sobbing, completely overwhelmed by the physical agony and the suffocating terror of history repeating itself.

The standard hospital machinery kicked in instantly. The on-call OBGYN, Dr. Thomas, rushed into the triage room with a team of nurses, gloved and ready to examine you.

"Get away from me!" you shrieked, pulling your legs back, pressing yourself flat against the headboard of the bed. Your eyes frantically scanned the room until they landed on House. "No! No one touches me but him! Greg, don't let them!"

"Y/N, I need to check your dilation, you're in active labor," Dr. Thomas said urgently. "Dr. House is a diagnostician, he isn't—"

"I don't care!" you screamed, your voice cracking with raw panic. A violent contraction seized your abdomen, making you arch your back. "He knows what we lost! He knows her! Greg, please! Only you!"

House didn't hesitate. He slammed his cane down onto a side table with a resounding clack that silenced the room. "You heard her. Step back."

"House, this is highly irregular, you're not on staff as an obstetrician—" Thomas argued.

"I have an MD, I've delivered babies in the clinic, and more importantly, she’s mine," House snapped, his voice carrying an icy authority that brooked no argument. He grabbed a bottle of sterile scrub, washing his hands with furious efficiency before snapping on a pair of latex gloves. "You want to stand there and watch to make sure I don't break a policy? Fine. But if you touch her, I’ll find out which pharmaceuticals you're taking bribes from and ruin your career by sunrise. Back off."

The OBGYN and the two nurses slowly stepped back, forming a quiet, watchful perimeter at the back of the room, ready to intervene only if a medical catastrophe arose.

Outside the glass doors of the delivery room, a small crowd had gathered. Cuddy stood with her arms crossed, her eyes shining with an anxious, protective warmth. Wilson was beside her, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his face pale with worry for his best friend. Behind them, Chase, Cameron, and Foreman stood in a hushed line, their usual medical detachment melted away by the sheer emotional gravity of what was happening inside.

House ignored them all. The entire universe had shrunk down to this bed, to you, and to the fragile promise of the heartbeat coming from the monitor.

"It's just you and me, Y/N," House murmured, moving to the foot of the bed. His voice was incredibly soft now, a low, grounding anchor in the middle of your storm. "I'm right here. I’ve got you. On the next contraction, I need you to push."

The wave hit you, a blinding crescendo of pain. You grabbed the metal bars of the bed, screaming as you pushed with everything you had left. The fear of failure, the grief of the babies you had lost, the agonizing hope for this one—you poured all of it into the physical effort.

"Good, beautiful, keep going," House urged. His hands were perfectly steady, guiding you, shielding you.

Hours bled together. You pushed until your throat was raw, until your muscles trembled so violently you couldn't hold your legs up. Through it all, House didn't blink. He wiped the sweat from your forehead, he let you crush his hand until his fingers popped, and he spoke to you in a way he had never spoken to anyone else—with absolute, unyielding devotion.

"I see her," House suddenly breathed, his voice catching. A look of pure, unadulterated awe broke across his hardened face. "She's right there, Y/N. Dark hair. Just like yours. One more push and she's out. Give me everything you've got."

With a final, desperate cry, you gathered every shattered piece of your strength and pushed.

The release was sudden and overwhelming. For a fraction of a second, the room fell into a terrifying, breathless silence. Your eyes flew open, your heart stopping, waiting for the nightmare to reclaim you.

Then, a sharp, angry, beautiful gasp tore through the air, followed by a loud, vigorous wail.

The sound shattered the ghosts in the room.

House immediately lifted the squirming, slippery, beautifully pink baby girl, laying her directly onto your bare chest. The nurses behind him moved forward with towels, but House gently waved them off, wanting to be the one to clear her airway, to wrap her up, to keep her safe.

You collapsed back against the pillows, your hands trembling violently as you cradled the warm, crying weight against your skin. "She's breathing... Greg, she's breathing. She's crying."

"She’s perfect," House whispered.

You looked up at him, and the sight broke your heart in the most beautiful way. Gregory House—the man who guarded himself with walls of stone and sarcasm—was crying. Large, silent tears streamed openly down his face, tracking through the stubble on his cheeks. He fell to his knees beside the bed, his cane completely forgotten, and buried his face in the crook of your neck, his shoulders shaking with deep, silent sobs.

You wrapped one arm around his head, holding him close, while your other hand held your daughter.

Outside the glass, Cuddy wiped a tear from her cheek and walked away to give you privacy. Wilson let out a long, shuddering breath, a massive, emotional smile breaking across his face as he followed her.

Inside, the room was filled only with the sound of your daughter's cries and the quiet weeping of two parents who had finally made it through the storm.

House pulled back just enough to look at the baby, his wet blue eyes filled with a tenderness that seemed entirely new. He reached out a trembling, gloved finger, and your daughter’s tiny hand instinctively wrapped around it, holding on tight.

"Aurora," you whispered, the name you had kept hidden in your heart for months, too terrified to speak it aloud. "Our dawn."

"Aurora," House repeated, his voice thick with tears, his lips pressing a long, reverent kiss against your sweaty forehead, and then against the soft cheek of your daughter. "You're safe. We've got you."

-end

Taglist: @frieddelusionparadise @urfinalg1rl @wjosephine @qardasngan @thefemininemystiquee @ruined-strawb-cake

[jenjentheboscostick]

Hey! It's Wyatt!

OMG HOUSE IS NAKED IN A SHARED HOME.

"It'd be nicer if you put this on."

"I had a dream like this one - it didn't end well." - LOL

"I ran into her naked" - "I told you to stay out of my bathroom"

"I was in the kitchen." - "She was naked in the kitchen?" - "I was naked in the kitchen."

WHY WERE NAKED IN THE KITCHEN -> valid question.

Chase had an uncle that likes to pretend to be King Leopold.

LOL. Thirteen trying to gross Chase out as he eats.

"You weren't wearing gloves when we shocked his heart."

House moves away from Foreman.

"I don't believe... that he actually kept a secret from me." - > wow, House.

LOL = Chase and Taub argue about fighting and Chase says "no i think you've never won one"

Sam wants to know House better - lol.

wow house.

"I liked him better on Vicondin"

lol Chase hit that door kind of hard. Thirteen: "my hero."

the look of disappointment on Sam's face.

he made them dinner???

WOW HOUSE.

It was not safe to leave them alone.

Thirteen: He'll figure it out sooner or later, hopefully after a few weeks of great sex -> nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Wyatt did it????

Oh Sam.

Soul sucking??? Damn.

"We did it - well, i did it." - "What exactly did we do? You do."

Juicer? King was not at fault.

The whole love triangle with the king/queen/knight - why is thirteen assuming that the King/Queen aren't happy together? Just because the Knight had a crush didn't mean that he should break up the King/Queen.

That's the problem with triangles - the Queen cared but there wasn't any evidence that it was more than friendship. And there's NO evidence that she doesn't like King. But we only see the Third's POV of his crush and Thirteen's assumption (with little proof - the Queen could've been visiting out of guilt) that she felt the same way.

[arthurflecks-darling]

Greg House x Anxiety!male reader

you have anxiety, but the only person that knows is cuddy, shes your main employer.

Maybe Cameron or chase know, Foreman doesn't poke and prod enough but hes seen you during a panic attack, that was enough to know it was serious.

House doesn't deserve to know, all he knows is that you have a disability and have accommodations for it, but that doesn't mean that he won't bother cuddy about it, or Cameron or chase.

He asks you questions even when near patients or other doctors, hes trying to force it out of you but you just dont seem to budge, cuddy won't say anything it's the one thing she keeps secret, Cameron says it's a promise she can't break to a friend and chase, despite he'll get on his hands and knees for house won't say a word either.

So when chasing a patient of yours though the Hall, you were to focused on getting her back to her room you didn't see house and ran straight into him, the collision wasn't all bad, I mean his cane did break.. And you might've went face first into his resulting in a kiss...

You loomed over him, mouth agape and eyes shining with ready to spill tears, when you stood up your foot knocked into his cane, the grip was completely separated from the base.

The kid you were chasing was cheering like it was Christmas, her parent started scolding her saying that it wasn't nice to plan something like that, other doctors and patients were staring, you stood between House's legs as you looked around, breathing heavy, shaking, tears brimming your eyes, you took one finale glance at greg before running off some where, chase heard the commotion and ran towards house along with Wilson who started asking if he hit his head, Greg just looked at his cane and touched his lips.

𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯.

ɴᴏᴛ ᴇɴᴛɪʀᴇʟʏ ᴘʀᴏᴏғ ʀᴇᴀᴅ

[soultragedy]

there’s something very poetic about this…