baseball player schlatt x hockey (or football) player!reader college au??
they hate each other and they both think the others sport is dumb but they always go and sit in the student section.
they run into each other at a party and they just start yapping and like things escalate.
basically enemies to lovers … but sports
me: i should finish my half written fics
also me: oh a new idea? challenge accepted!
thank you for the ask!!! I want to kiss anon's brain bc i couldn't stop thinking about this au for the last few days, so here's some freestyle (unedited) brainstorming (rambling)
a/n: buckle up because this is a first draft!
male reader, a bit of nsfw, rpf shipping
enemies to lovers? slow burn? yUM
sports rivalry? oh yes, the homoeroticism!!
[you and schlatt growling at each other in the background] "are they flirting?" "yes, i think they are"
enemies with benefits????
hate sex where you don't even know what the fuck you are doing. there's just. anger and lust
"it was just one time! It won't happen again! I still hate you" -> said schlatt right before a quick escalation of events
gay sex in the locker room, random gay quicky in a closet, shower gay sex, being too horny to realize how gay the situation is
losing the meaning of "i hate you" and ending up doing something way too tender
like using a petname involuntarily or basic care like cleaning up each other
saying things you both don't mean and watching schlatt run away
"do you like him?" "this wasn't supposed to happen in the first place!" "but it did anyway, so what are you going to do about it?" "I... I don't know"
gay gay gay, capisce?
i need to do some reasearch about baseball player schlatt, i don't know much about it and i also don't watch sports :[
I played basketball tho?
basketball team -> you, ted, hasan, trevor, stanz, (just because i know they play)
i'm derailing with random headcanons based on vibes but
hasan is the way too serious captain
trevor and stanz are goofballs but trevor locks in on the game and stanz is just there to have fun
during a game:
trevor: we are winning >:)
stanz: we are winning :D
hasan: we can win more >:( (later will say that it wasn't a big deal and that he didn't actually cared) (bullshit but nobody will say anything)
ted has main character vibes, like he ends up making a fool of himself trying to look cool
[cue to hasan getting angry at him] "wHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING???!!"
i can hear his voice and austin giggling in the background (side haustin because they're adorable)
this au could go in so many ways!! did you say schlatt x you? what about ted x you? polytedschlatt???? full on tedschlatt???
pining ted who has a crush on schlatt??? he thinks schlatt is there for him but he's actually at the game just for whatever gay shit is going on between you and schlatt???
"breaking up" because schlatt realised that he's become fond of you
"Oh fuck no, i actually like him?!" -> denial of feelings but stupidly late
you try to avoid each other -> passive aggressive interactions -> angst time
schlatt stops going to your games and things returns back to a normal "i hate you"
a clueless ted invites schlatt at a party but there's the whole basketball team there
"what the fuck are you doing here?! I said I never want to see you again" "shut up!!! YOU are the one following me!"
ignoring each other for the whole night and spending the time drinking/smoking too much
inevitable sloppy make out -> crying during sex -> drunk confession -> makeup sex
3rd person, House's pov; sfw; fandom: house md, ship: hilson (gregory house x james wilson); slice of life, fluff; no beta we die like men;
prompts used: bets, secrets, kissing, "I dare you"
a/n: for @babyboywilson !!! happy birthday, bex !!!! <3 this is my first time writing hilson and i had a lot of fun, thank you !!! i hope you enjoy! :]
House is in his office, utterly bored. He's leaning back on his chair, his legs propped up on his desk and his tennis ball spinning between his hands while he's contemplating his thoughts.
It's been 3 weeks, almost a month, since the diagnostic department had an interesting case, or one that he considered noteworthy enough to spend his time on. Lately, the department was, more often than not, empty. House doesn't care, he let his team sort the boring patients, as he spends his time napping and checking in his clinic hours at the same time.
It wasn't surprising when someone among his team made a comment that turned into a joke, that eventually became a bet, to which House readily accepted. Shenanigans ensued and money were exchanged, people offended and victories earned. Another point was added for House on the whiteboard.
In his boredom he has scared the new interns, harassed Cuddy, annoyed all of the nurses, played golf on top of the hospital's roof and destroyed random people's car windshields, raided the pharmacy several times, found three alternative ways to break in Wilson's apartment without using the keys he already owns and was given willingly, and many other things just to amuse himself.
House looks up when he hears his office's door opens, the sound pulling him out of his mind.
It's Wilson at the door, a folder under his arm and a coffee is in his hand. He comes into the room with a charming smile on his face.
"bored?" he asks like he doesn't already know.
"are you kidding me?" House replies deadpan, before his face breaks, there's amusement in the small uplift of the corner of his mouth.
It wasn't exactly a secret that Wilson and House have become a couple, but it's still a recent update on their relationship, even if it was turning out to be shockingly easy and terrifying comfortable, as he feels oddly vulnerable and intimate with Wilson. It was like House could drop his armor and not be afraid to end up bleeding, not be afraid to be poked at, like they were already a couple and they didn't even realize it, but now they do and he doesn't know how to feel about that. For now House didn't want to think too hard, so he pulls himself out of his thoughts again, refocusing on Wilson, who was parched on his desk, the folder he was previously holding is placed innocently next to him, he's sipping his coffee, looking at him back fondly. It was almost disgusting if House didn't enjoy the attention.
"What? Do I not get a morning kiss?" He says, leaning back to look up at Wilson and letting their gaze meet. An ever growing cheeky smile appears on House's face.
"It's almost lunch..." Wilson points out arching one of his brushy eyebrows in doubt, his delighted smile is betraying his words. After all, the bickering was part of their game and he shouldn't give in so easily.
"Irrelevant" remarks House dismissively.
"Your office is made of glass" Wilson tries to point out next.
"Again: Irrelevant" barks House in response.
"You're the one who doesn't want to show everybody how soft you really are" Wilson whips out as a last resort to reason with the older man.
Mischief crosses House's eyes. He slowly lifts his bad leg, placing it on the ground and then rolling his chair, he moves himself closer to Wilson.
"Kiss me. I dare you" House challenges, looking up defiantly at Wilson.
The younger man smirks wickedly, he puts his mug of coffee down and then he places his hands on House's shoulders. Wilson leans down, his hands moving, touching and tracing invisible patterns, causing the other man to shiver involuntarily as a sigh escapes him. Then Wilson shifts closer, both their eyes closing in synchronization and their heads turning to perfectly meet each other's lips. It's soft and gentle, it's everything they never allowed themselves to be.
House grabs Wilson's shirt, trying to pull him as near as possible, the latter stumbles and ends up having to hold his part of his weight on the chair House is sitting on.
Wilson can feel House's smug grin against his lips and he bites them back playfully. He can feel fingers at the back of his neck pulling him down and other ones tugging his tie.
House hums content. Kissing Wilson is intoxicating, how he makes him feel is intoxicating. House could never get enough of it, he fears he's already too far gone for the other man, he could never get bored of him and how much Wilson can make him feel.
3rd person, House's pov; sfw; fandom: house md, ship: hilson (gregory house x james wilson); angst, hurt/no comfort; no beta we die like men; same universe of Office Hours;
warnings: dark/depressive thoughts, drugs and alchool abuse, implied self harm and attempted suicide
prompts used: broken, domesticity
a/n: for @babyboywilson <3 !!! i hope you enjoy :] (and it makes sense...? i'm gonna write a second part of this when i get the chance because it needs a good ending)
House hasn't slept well lately and there wasn't a reason at all, it's been a long while since he had a challenging case. Despite this, he's still found himself awake at odd hours of the night, tired but incapable of ignoring the pain in his leg enough to fall asleep, no matter how many vicodins he took to knock himself out. His thoughts were roaming around his head, like there was a ping pong match playing in his brain, his eyes have stared at the ceiling above him for hours. Whatever emotional turmoil inside him was, it was making his leg ache sharply, even more as the restless nights have gone on.
On top of that, House has somewhat pissed the pharmacy guys off so much that they were refusing to give his favorite drug! He even had a prescription this time! They were acting like petty idiots! He quickly managed to steal some oxycodin and pocketed as many cherry flavored lollipops as he could when the others' backs were turned. Then House limped away victorious, going home earlier than usual, unnoticed from Cuddy and thus escaping any of her possibile complaints.
When House entered his apartment that evening, he couldn't even reach his bedroom, stumbling and falling, too tired and in pain to walk even a step more, the fall crushed his leg under his own weight as he yelled and collapsed on the couch.
House didn't know how many times he ended up high or drunk just to try and fall asleep only that week, he even raided his last hidden emergency stash of painkillers and any other drug that would less his pain. He had a special vicodin bottle, inside of it there were an assortment of different colored pills. House didn't care to sort them out, dry-swallowing whatever pills his hands could grab. He was hurting and anything would do some good in his opinion, he just wanted to numb himself, to desperately stop feeling his body, to stop feeling at all.
That night House couldn't fall asleep either, the pain was unbearable. So, he has continued to eat pills the rest of the night, hoping he would eventually pass out into oblivion, but nothing was changing. He switched the painkillers for some alchool, half a bottle of whiskey was sitting innocently on the coffee table as he grabbed its neck and drank from it greedily. He then found some weed stashed between the couch's seats, probably stolen at some point from Wilson's office and then was forgotten about.
House has been sitting in his living room, his hurt limb was between his hands as he's been massaging it to relieve some of the dull ache remaining, despite all of the substances he had assumed.
Broken. House was broken. And not the Japanese style broken, where they gather all the pieces and repair it with gold. No. House was just irreparably broken. The pieces were jagged and if anyone tried to pick them up, they'll end up hurting themselves. House was made in this way, he knew no way out, he didn't know how to not be this way. He has been broken all of his life, since he was born. How could he not be?
Broken. Bro-ken. Bro Ken is broken. Heh. I'm funny. I'm sad. I hate myself.
House is finally stoned, he's also a bit drunk. He doesn't remember how many, or even, what exactly he's been taking.
He's thinking about Wilson, about his dumb face and his stupid ties, about his big brown eyes and cute dimples. The fond way Wilson always looks at him, it makes House weak, overwhelmed, dreaded, like he's leading his best friend to worship a false god, dragging him into sin and hell with him. Since House and Wilson have become a couple, the thought hasn't left his mind. Everytime they wake up tangled together in the morning, the way Wilson preps little kisses on the back of his neck to wake him up, the way he coaxes him out of bed with the promise of coffee. The way House clings to Wilson, following him in the kitchen like a lost pet sticks to its owner. The older man would place his head on the other's shoulder, arms wrapped around his waist, hugging him from behind, Wilson's back against House's chest. While the younger man prepares their morning coffee, the other would try to nap some more and end up drooling on him. Or he would dig his nose on Wilson's neck and kiss his jaw, tickling and distracting him from his task, trying to convince him to go back to bed, he would sneak a hand under Wilson's shirt, tracing lines on his skin. How disgustingly domestic they have became.
House smiles bitter at his own thoughts. He doesn't deserve Wilson, everybody could see it, everybody knows it. The soft man will eventually get bored of him, like he did with his ex wives. As soon as the honeymoon phase will end, they will be back as only best friends. Wilson will realize that they're better off ignoring whatever happened between them and life will go on, back at their usual normal life.
House has been tired for a long time, tired of the pain, tired of feeling his own body, tired of living. He closes his eyes, his mind flowing, his body light and the drugs finally making him feel like he's enclosed in a bubble of desensitization, he can't move as the feeling traps him in a hug which is pulling him down. Limbs too heavy to lift, eyelids too heavy to keep open, as House can finally sleep.
I want to love him but I'm incapable of it. I want him to love me but I'm selfish. He cares so much about others, when I would kill everyone just for his attention. I'm so in love with him, I want to kill myself.
