Hello, as posted above here is a masterlist of all my writing! Some of it is years old, so it may not be as good as you'd hope, or as I'd hope if I'm honest, but I hope you enjoy all of it!
Rules included under the cut!
Ghost (Band)
Copia and V as Vampires
Secondo falling for someone who doesn't like his habits
Papas reacting to their brother cheating on you
Breaking Spaghetti In front of your Papa
Copia angst blurb
Texts between you and your Papa
Being on the Ace spectrum and loving Terzo
Secondo Angst and Comfort Blurb
The Emeritus Brothers drifting from Copia
Drifting from Copia
Papas brother dynamics
All papas likes in a relationship
Terzo comes back
All Papas dislikes in a relationship
Napping with Copia Blurb
When the Night gets Cold, Will you Hold me?
Band Ghost Abbey Headcannons Pt 2 Pt 3
Secondo Horny Thoughts
In the Night
Copia Yule Drabble
Papas react to reader falling asleep on them
SugarDaddy Copia and Terzo
General horror Papa x reader
Copia x OC
Ghouls and Papas with Autistic reader
Learning the Ghouls Instruments
Ifrit Ghoul Headcannons
Dragon Secondo x reader
Ghouls and Papas with reader with hiccup vocal stim
All Ghouls comforting sick reader
Misinterpreted Ritual
Agoraphobic
MHA
Leaving Bakugou and leaving Tenya Iida
EraserMic and assassin child
Mina Ashido with a Xenomorph reader (transformation quirk)
Midoriya x male reader with Invisibility
AOT
Scarlet Witch reader in AOT
Mikasa x Trans Fem reader
Mikasa x Titan Powered reader
Spider Verse
Will you be fine? Gwen stacy x reader
1 2 3 4
Maze Runner
You're his kid? Thomas x reader
I wanna cuddle... Newt x reader x Minho
Marvel
Father Loki x child reader AU
DC
Jokers Ace
Justice League and Carnage Reader
Star Wars
Wrecker Blurb
TFP
So many, Just search the tag TFP x reader
Hazbin Hotel
Platonic Sir Pentious x reader
Sick Teen reader x hotel crew
Vee's x teen reader (no Val, Platonic)
Platonic Multi Character Imagine, Venomous teen reader
Lazy, powerful reader with Hotel crew
Platonic Hazbin crew with Quiet(only at first)Teen reader
Angel Dust x reader (Charlies trust games)
Some Bat reader headcannons
Lucifer is mad that charlie met an angel
Bat Teen reader with the Vee's (barely any Val cause-)
Lucifer meets Emily
Lucifer x overlord reader
Vaggie and Alastor are kinda friends
Bat-Like teen reader who is sensitive to light and noise with Hotel Crew
Emily x soulmate reader
Alastor acting like a sorta father to reader
Who I write for
Marvel (Spiderverse, X-men, Avengers, Thunderbolts*, Moonknight and X-men)
DC (Justice League, young justice, Fox Gotham, Superman 2025)
The Band Ghost
Transformers (Prime and Bayverse)
Harry Potter (Not the HBO MAX show)
Star wars (clone wars, bad batch, prequels and OG)
God of war (3 and 4)
Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss
Rules
Send asks when they’re specified as open
Don’t Bully
Don’t be transphobic
Don’t be Homophobic
I am now doing NSFW be warned I’m still practicing!
Do look at who I write for and abide by those fandoms
Do have some fun!!
Send in some shows I can watch if you want me to write them!!!
DISCLAIMER
I have never claimed to be tech savvy. I do not know what I’m doing, and I barely know how to make a masterlist so there may issues. Let me know and I’ll try my best to fix the problems!
Also, I have a Job and I am a student, writing is a hobby, I’m not required to fulfill any requests but I do try my best!!
"this how we lost post editing and it was still worth it"
❌ False
The John Green Cock Monologue, while one of the most egregious examples of post editing, was not why the ability to edit posts was taken away. This feature was removed because scammers would edit posts with huge note counts to try to make their scams look legit.
You were spread out on the bed—snoring with drool dripping down your chin. The sun shone through the curtains and hit your face, slowly waking you up. As you began to stir, you heard the familiar sound of a cane thumping against the floor, as well as the sound of a coffee percolator in the kitchen. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and sighed tiredly before getting up. You then followed the sound of cabinets opening and closing.
When you reached the kitchen archway, you saw House rummaging around the cabinets, searching for something. You sighed and sat down at the table before laying your cheek on the smooth surface.
“Morning.” You mumbled.
He smirked in response. “Morning to you too, sleeping beauty. You were out like a light last night. I could've probably shot off a gun right next to you, and you'd still be asleep.”
“…Right. Thank you for giving me a place to sleep for the night.” You yawned.
He shrugged as he continued looking through the cabinets. “It was better than letting you pay for an overpriced room at a sketchy motel with some criminal waiting outside to mug you in the middle of the night.”
You smiled. “Would it be possible to have a cup of coffee?”
He nodded and closed the cabinet. “The machine's going, and it's brewing a fresh pot. It should be all ready in a minute or two. I was looking for something edible but…it has been a while since I’ve eaten breakfast.”
You nodded understandingly and your eyelids started falling on their own.
He noticed and smirked. “Still tired, huh?”
You didn’t answer and he hummed before nodding to himself. “Yeah, judging by the drool stain you've got going on, I'm gonna guess that the answer to that is an obvious 'yes'.” He turned his gaze back to the coffee machine for a moment before looking back at you. “Hey, you want cream and sugar?”
Your eyes were closed and you snored.
He rolled his eyes and smirked. “I don't know if that's a feat of sleep deprivation, or proof that you could definitely sleep through any disturbance—” He was suddenly interrupted by the sound of the percolator finishing its brew. He sighed before pinching your nose closed to wake you up.
You opened your eyes, looking around blearily and groggily, trying to process what just happened.
“You were sleeping so soundly, I was afraid you might die on me from lack of blood flow to your brain.” He explained. “Also, did you want cream and sugar in your coffee, or are you just drinking it black like any sane individual out there?”
You hummed, “Cream. Sugar. Lots of it. I need that sugar rush to last the day.”
He raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Cream and sugar? And you call yourself a nurse?”
You lifted your hands to reach forward. “Come on. Please?”
He rolled his eyes playfully and shook his head. “Yeah, yeah. Cream and sugar it is.”
He turned back to the coffee pot and prepared it before stirring it up and bringing the mug over to the table. You smiled and cupped your hands around the steaming cup with a small satisfied smile.
He huffed and took a sip of his own coffee. “You look like one of those weird kids on TV having hot cocoa with marshmallows on a cold winter day. Does a little morning cup of Joe really make you that happy?”
You smiled and lifted your cup towards him. “Thanks, Santa.”
He rolled his eyes. “Please. Don’t insult me. I'm nothing like…that big round-faced jolly man with his white beard who says hohoho. I hate red and I suck at giving presents.”
“But you made me coffee.” You retorted playfully and took another sip.
He rolled his eyes again. “Yeah, and? The man makes toys for children and makes his way around the world every year, giving toys to people who've been nice. Making coffee is nowhere near as charitable.”
“Making coffee is a gift too. You did something for me.” You insisted—but clearly you were having the time of your life messing with him. He rolled his eyes again and took another sip of his own coffee as he watched you finish your liquid dessert and then put the empty mug down on the table.
“We should get ready for work.”
He nodded and stood up. “Yeah, gotta see more of the mad men.”
You both got dressed, went into the car and drove back to the hospital. Once there, he opened the car door and pulled himself out. You then both made your way towards the main entrance.
The moment your foot stepped inside the hospital, you straightened up and your expression changed.
Time for work.
He noticed and smirked. “Ahh, there it is. Nurse mode.”
You nodded wordlessly. “I would advise you to do the same. The patients can be quite the troublemakers. Just do not let your emotions show fear or anger.”
He scoffed. “I’m a doctor. I worked in the ER. You know what kind of people get referred to the ER on a regular basis? Drug addicts, prostitutes, the mentally ill, gang members, criminals, the homeless…I’ve seen and dealt with the worst of the worst, and I’m good at keeping people from seeing what I really think.”
You nodded understandingly and you both rode the elevator up to the right floor.
…
A few hours passed, Dr House was just coming out of one of the patients’ room when he saw you in the hallway, looking into a patient’s file on a clipboard.
He limped over to you and looked over your shoulder. “What do you have there?”
“Brahms Heelshire’s file.” You answered without looking at him. “Yesterday was his third escape attempt this week…”
He scoffed. “Brahms Heelshire? Really? That guy’s been here for what, 4 or 5 years? And he’s still trying to escape?”
You nodded absentmindedly. “I just do not understand…why? He has no family anymore. Nothing to go back to.”
He looked over the file. “Well, there’s usually only two kinds of people who try to escape as frequently as he does: the ones who haven’t come to terms with their current situation yet and the ones with severe mental illnesses. Given the current situation, I’d wager it’s probably a bit of the former and a good bit of the latter.”
You nodded and started walking towards the patient’s cell. He followed you. “Do you really think he’s going to talk to us? I mean…that guy could just decide to kill us both.”
You smiled at him playfully. “Do not speak and I think everything will be just fine.”
He lifted a skeptical eyebrow at you, slightly surprised at your sudden sass, but he still smirked. “Oh, really? Challenge accepted. I’ll be as silent as a church mouse.”
You chuckled before taking out a stuffed bear from your bag. “Cute?”
He gave you a questioning look. “Are you planning on using that to tame Brahms?”
You smiled enigmatically, but didn’t answer before entering the cell. You looked around and found the poor man curled up at the foot of his bed. House followed behind you and took in the sad sight. It really was a pitiful picture: a man curled up like a child with a blank stare. He looked sick and exhausted.
You sat down on the bed and offered him a friendly smile. “Good afternoon, Brahms. Did you sleep well?”
The man didn’t answer at first, but then groaned and buried his face into his arms before muttering an inaudible reply.
You smiled. “Ah. Not so good then I take it?”
He didn’t look up, but he muttered again in response—a little louder this time. “When does it ever get ‘good’ in here?”
You nodded understandingly before scooting closer and taking out the stuffed bear to sit it down on the bed. The man lifted his head and turned to look at the bear, his gaze moving from the toy to you before turning his head back down.
You coughed and made the stuffed arm wave. When he saw the toy wave, he immediately sat up. You smiled victoriously—at least now he was paying attention. “This is Miss Daisy. Miss Daisy wants to know what is going on and what it would take for you to give her a smile.”
He stared at the toy curiously before extending a tentative hand. He eventually touched the toy bear, running his fingertips over its soft and fluffy surface. Meanwhile, Doctor House remained silent as he had promised and observed Brahms’ reactions. The patient seemed happy enough as he squeezed the toy. He then pressed the plushie against his face and inhaled deeply.
“You like the gift ?” You asked as he continued to hug the toy, nodding his head as he buried his face even deeper into its fluff.
You nodded. “Could you perhaps tell me why you have been so eager to leave recently?”
He lifted his face from the toy momentarily and answered in a weak and quiet voice. “I don’t like it here…”
You nodded again. “I see. May I ask why? I understand that there has been some improvements in living conditions…I thought it might change your wish to escape.”
He looked down at the toy bear. “It feels like a prison in here…it makes me feel trapped. I just want to go outside—anywhere else.”
You nodded understandingly. “I see…Well, I cannot promise to get you out of hospital grounds yet but, perhaps would you like to go outside? Have access to the gardens? Would that improve your mood?”
His eyes lit up at the idea, and he nodded vividly, clutching the toy even tighter and bringing it closer to his chest. “Yes please.”
You nodded and wrote it down. “Noted.”
He nodded again, cradling the toy bear in his arms and pressing it against his chest. “If I…” He paused for a moment, looking down at the toy. “If I…behave…could I make a special request?”
You smiled. “Sure thing, Brahms. What do you want?”
He suddenly went silent for a minute. You heard him say something, but it was mumbled into the toy, and too quiet to hear. You leaned forward a bit closer to him. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I didn’t catch that. Could you repeat please?”
He moved the stuffed toy away from his face, and he looked away, suddenly looking embarrassed. “I…I wanted to ask…if I could have…” He looked at you and then back down at the toy, then back up at you. However, he couldn’t seem to meet your eyes. “…a friend.”
Your eyebrows raised in surprise and you tilted your head a bit. “A friend?”
He nodded, but still did not meet your eyes and fiddled with the bear toy. “Yes. Just…a friend—a nice person to talk to and play with. Please?”
You felt your heart go out to him. He seemed so pitiful, and desperate. You reached out and gently placed your hand on his arm. “I’ll see what I can do, Brahms.”
He looked up at you for a moment, his eyes wide and hopeful before he looked down at the toy, and then back up at you. “Really? You can get me a friend? You won’t just say you will and then forget about it, like everyone else…?”
You shook your head with a small reassuring smile. “No, sweetie, I won’t do that. I’ll personally see that you have a nice, kind, and caring friend. I won’t forget about it, I promise.”
He seemed satisfied with the promise, and he hugged the toy even closer, rubbing his face against the bear again. “Thank you…”
You chuckled lightly and nodded, patting his arm gently. “Yeah, of course.”
He let out a breath and closed his eyes, nuzzling his face against the toy once more as a happy and relieved look appeared on his face.
You nodded and then looked at Doctor House. “This is Doctor House. He will examine you now. Would you agree to that?”
He looked over to House and seemed scared for a moment, but then nodded in agreement. “Yeah, it’s fine…”
You smiled and nodded as well. You kept an eye on Brahms, making sure he stayed calm and at ease as House approached. The doctor looked down at Brahms and nudged his foot with the end of his cane. “Stand up, big guy.”
Brahms slowly stood up from the bed, being careful to keep his toy clutched tightly in his arms as he did. House nodded and set his cane against the side of the bed. He then looked Brahms up and down, looking for anything that might be wrong. He then noticed a small scratch on Brahms’s right arm. “What happened here ?”
Brahms looked down at the scratch and held up his arm, showing it to House. He then seemed to remember something, and his gaze dropped sheepishly—like a toddler. He mumbled an answer, the sound too soft for either of you to hear.
House raised his eyebrow and leaned forward closer to Brahms. “Couldn’t hear you, kid. Say it again, a little louder this time.”
Brahms raised his voice, though it was more timid than anything and replied, his gaze still on the ground. “I tried to escape again and a wire in the fence cut my arm.”
House nodded as he listened, noting the injury. “Well that was a stupid thing to do, wasn’t it? You’re lucky you only got a scratch.”
He nodded, still looking down and holding his toy tightly. “Yeah. I won’t do it again…”
House nodded and sighed, looking Brahms up and down. “It’s really a shame, and you’ve tried it, what—three times this week? Pal. Take a clue.”
Brahms’s shoulders slumped even further downward as he was scolded. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop…”
House shook his head in response. “Well, you’d better, or next time you might actually hurt yourself. You’re lucky you only got a scratch this time. That fence is designed to keep people like you from escaping. What if you hit your head next time you try to escape? Or break something? There’s no point in continuing to try to escape, so I hope you’ve learned your lesson.”
Brahms tilted his head. “I just…want to get out.”
House hummed as he proceeded to bandage the wound. “Really now? And where do you plan on going when you do get free? Do you even have somewhere to go?”
Brahms didn’t respond. He just looked away sheepishly, fidgeting nervously with the toy in his hands.
House sighed and rolled his eyes. “Exactly. You don’t have a plan. You don’t have any place to go. You don’t have a job, or money, or anything. You can’t take care of yourself. All you’re gonna do is end up back here, probably with more scratches and broken bones, so just accept it and stop trying to escape.”
Brahms hummed. “My family gave me money.”
House scoffed as he finished the bandage. “Your family might’ve given you money years ago, but it’s 202… now. There’s a very, VERY strong chance that any money you were given is worthless now. And besides, what would you do with it? Build yourself another manor? Keep preying on harmless babysitters? Kill whoever bothers you in your gloomy teenager phase?”
Brahms looked down at the floor and started to get teary-eyed, clearly affected by the doctor’s words and the trauma from his past. “I…I-I don’t…”
“Doctor House.” You intervened with a displeased expression. “A word outside?”
He looked at you and rolled his eyes, but he still hobbled out into the hall. You stepped outside after him and you faced him with a disapproving frown. “We are supposed to help them—not berate them.”
He scoffed and shook his head in disbelief. “I am helping him. I’m toughing him up so that he’ll quit escaping and hurting himself.”
“This establishment is about redemption. What message are we sending if you start telling them that there is no escape?” You reminded him.
He rolled his eyes. “I’m telling the truth. And reality doesn’t care about feelings or being ‘nice.’ It’s better to get him used to the idea now that he’s not going anywhere than to keep lying to him and telling him that there's hope.”
You frowned in incomprehension. “What do you mean?”
He shook his head and sighed in exasperation. “Exactly what I said. That kid in there is never getting out of this hospital. There’s no point trying to feed him stories about how he’s capable of going free and living in the world again. It’s never going to happen, and it’s better to get him used to that idea now than to let him continue thinking he has a chance.”
Your jaw twitched. “I BELIEVE in them. I believe in sending them back into society.”
He rolled his eyes again. He put on a fake smile and added a sickly-sweet tone to his voice in an attempt to tease and mock you. “Of course you do, ‘sunshine’.”
Your eyes widened at his mocking tone and you shook your head. “If you do not believe in their redemption, then what are you doing here?”
He rolled his eyes again and dropped the fake smile. “I’m a doctor. I work wherever I’m needed. Or wherever I am paid. I don’t have a choice in the matter, and I’m not here for their ‘redemption’.” He made air quotes around "redemption" to indicate the sarcasm in his sentiment. “I am here to make sure they stay alive. And because I was mildly interested in the special freaks you seem to have locked up.”
You gasped and thrusted a finger into his chest. “We never use that word. Take that back!”
His eyebrows shot up and he looked at your finger on his chest with an annoyed expression, then back up at you. “What ? ‘Freaks’? Why? Can’t handle the fact that that’s what they are? They’re abnormal, and therefore freaks. I’m just being ‘honest’. One of the qualities you seem to value so much.”
You grit your teeth and seethed. “Careful, Dr. House. There is a thin line between honesty and cruelty.”
He rolled his eyes again. “Oh, spare me. They’re in a hospital for homicidal lunatics, and they’ve clearly got severe mental problems. You don’t fix reality by changing the vocabulary. You think they’re gonna get offended about me calling them freaks?”
He turned towards the cells and as if to prove his point he shouted. “FREAKS!”
Your chest heaved and you glared at him. “I obviously made a mistake hiring you…”
He huffed and rolled his eyes. “Oh, please, you couldn’t get rid of me even if you tried. You do not have any doctors besides me. None of my predecessors lasted. I am here for as long as I’m paid to be here. You’ll just have to deal with me. Besides, you just don’t like the fact that I’m not acting like your perfect ideal of a doctor.”
You looked him up and down. “Obviously not.”
He smirked and shrugged. “So sorry to not fit the job description. I’m so sorry I’m not some cheerful, happy doctor who gets all gushy over people with mental problems and wants to treat them like they’re children…”
“No. I wanted a doctor who I could trust.” You snapped. “ I wanted a doctor who understands my vision. I wanted a doctor who wanted the patients to get better!”
He shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh, don’t give me that crap about wanting the patients to get better, alright? You may genuinely want that, but you’re delusional for thinking that you can actually get these people to become normal. They were locked away for a reason, and trying to get them to rejoin society is an unrealistic pipe dream.”
“Then this discussion is over.” You seethed and turned around to leave.
He grabbed your arm before you could leave and spun you back around. “Hey, wait. Don’t get all pissy now.”
You glared at him and wretched your arm away. “To be a sunshine takes everything I have. To stay positive and keep smiling are my ways to give the patients something to look forward to. What do you offer them?”
He put his hands in his pockets and glared right back at you. “Realism. I offer them someone to be real with them. Not someone who tries to baby them and treat them like they’re not outcasts, like you do…”
“THEY ARE NOT DEAD YET, HOUSE!” You snapped. ”They can still dream of better things than your cold harsh reality.”
He looked at you with a slight look of surprise as you shouted, but he still answered defiantly. “Don’t you get it? That kid in there,” he gestured towards the cell, “he’s a serial killer. What better things do you think he deserves?”
Your eyes watered. “They deserve a chance, House. An actual chance. They are broken. But they can be fixed. We can glue back the pieces.”
He sighed in disbelief and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “People aren’t like that. They’re not a puzzle to be pieced back together.”
A single tear rolled down your cheek. “…And I thought you’d be smart enough to understand the importance of hope.”
He looked away towards the cells and muttered. “Hope’s for idiots.”
Your heart clenched in your chest and you quickly wiped your tears. “…Right. Thank you for your honesty.” With that, you walked away.
House found himself standing still for several moments before he cursed and hobbled after you. “Y/N. Wait.”
He fell. You did not look back.
“Would you hold on for a second?” But you were already gone. He cursed and grumbled to himself as he sat on the floor. He rubbed at the ache in his leg and sighed. “Great. Just…great.” He tried to stand up, but his leg was feeling worse than usual. He leaned against the wall and tried to get up again.
He finally managed to stand up and stopped next to a cell where a voice spoke up.
“Pff. Way to go, jackass.”
He turned towards the cell and rolled his eyes, immediately recognizing that insufferable voice. “Oh, great. You—of all people…”
Freddy smirked. “Making our lil’ mama bear unhappy? Tut-tut. Bad idea, House.”
He rolled his eyes. “Bite me, Krueger.”
Freddy grinned and suddenly grabbed House’s arm and pulled it inside his cell.“Sure. If you insist...” He then bit it hard.
House shouted obscenities and tried to pull away, dropping his cane as he tried to retrieve his arm. “Let go of my arm, you crazy bastard.” His arm was bleeding now, and Krueger still had a vice-like grip on it. He could see the blood trickling down his arm, and he tried to pry his arm free from his grip, but he was too strong. “I said let go, Krueger!”
Freddy didn’t obey and only sank his teeth deeper as the other patients started making noise or even laughing around them. He tried to pull his arm back again, but it was no use. He punched Krueger as hard as he could in the ribs with his free hand, but he still held on like a rabid animal.
Suddenly, a voice raised behind him. “FREDDY.”
You stood there.
Krueger froze, though his grip was still as tight as ever. He turned to look at you, as did House.
You stepped forward and faced Freddy. “Let go of the doctor’s arm. Now.”
Freddy smirked challengingly and tightened his grip on House’s arm. “And what happens if I don’t?”
You hesitated—reaching for the familiar remote in your pocket to activate the electric collar around Freddy’s neck. You could hurt him. But instead…you asked. “Let us say you break or rip off the doctor’s arm. And then what, Mister Krueger? What do you think will happen?”
Freddy chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. “He’ll cry in pain, and I’ll have a good laugh.”He chuckled again, tightening the grip on House’s arm, though not enough to break it, just enough to make it ache a bit more.
You nodded. “Okay. You have a good laugh. Then what?”
He rolled his eyes. “Then I’ll let him go, and I’ll get put in solitary for a few days. Big deal.”
You sighed.
“Freddy. I am going to be honest with you.” You took a deep breath. “I have bet a lot on you and all the patients in this hospital. I have made an important deal with someone to improve you and the other patients’ living conditions. I am not ready to give up. But you need to show that you have improved. I need you and the other patients not to harm or kill any members of staff…I need you to trust me and let go of Doctor House’s arm. Please.”
He smirked before looking at House’s bleeding arm, then back at you. “You’re trying to bargain with me, huh? How cute…but why should I care about your lil’ deal?”
You closed your eyes and thought about it. Telling him about future consequences or rewards wouldn’t help. Slashers are unable to grasp long-term benefits. Then, it hit you. “You asked for a garden, right? I remember. I already made the demand and all the necessary equipment should soon arrive. I am trying, Freddy. But it’s hard when nobody else seems to think you can be or do better. And if you keep hurting or killing staff members then I won’t be able to help you anymore. And that would mean less for you—a lot less than what was granted so far and me possibly getting fired.”
He looked at you curiously for a moment, tilting his head slightly to the side as he thought about it hard, then his grip on House’s arm loosened a bit. He was silent, his eyes glued to your face, trying to discern if you were lying or not.
You opened your eyes—cold sweat running down your face. “Please.”
He looked at you thoughtfully for a moment, and then suddenly let go of House’s arm, shoving him back into the hallway. “Alright, mama bear. I’ll play your little game for a while. Maybe for a few days, or a week or two. But don’t think I’m doing any of this for your sake. I’m doing it for me, and only for me.”
House stumbled back into the hallway and took a few steps backwards, holding his injured arm. He looked down at it, at the bite mark that was inflicted by Krueger. “Great. I’m probably going to need shots now…”
Freddy cackled and flipped him off. You took House’s good arm and dragged him away. He didn’t resist, but as you both started walking, he looked at you quizzically. “You realize what you just did, right? You just made a deal with a homicidal psychopath.”
You glared at him. “It was that or you lost your arm. You should be thanking me on your knees right about now.”
He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Oh, spare me with the self-righteous indignation bit. I’m fully aware that you made a smart choice and that you helped me out. I’m just saying you made a deal with a madman that’s all. The Springwood Slasher? The guy who kills people in their dreams? And you want to trust him? That’s gonna blow up in your face at some point…”
You didn’t answer.
He rolled his eyes again and sighed. “Oh, right, I forgot…you don’t like negative comments about your precious ‘redemptive’ dream, do you? You’re just going to keep ignoring me until I agree that all of your patients are just misunderstood and need help. Yeah. That’ll work out great.”
You reached the infirmary and sat him down on the bed before looking around for some medicine and bandages. He sat down on the bed and rolled up his sleeve, exposing his wounded arm up to his elbow. “That bastard got me good…”
“You’ll live.” You replied flatly.
He scoffed and looked at you with a glare. “Oh, thank you so much for that comforting bit of wisdom. I feel so much better now.”
“What blood-type are you?” You ignored his comment and decided to focus on the most important.
“B/T. Why? You gonna give me a blood transfusion too, Mother Theresa?” He mocked and huffed before looking away.
You hummed. “Guess what? It’s your lucky day. We match.”
“Of course there would be another convenient twist. Of course you just happen to have the same blood type as me…Why am I not surprised?” He sighed and laid his head back.
You smiled. “Relax. It’s just a bite. It’s not like he cut off your arm.” He winced as you touched the wound, his fingers clutching the sheets of the bed. You restrained a laugh.
“Oh, go ahead and laugh. I’m sure you’ll be laughing your ass off if I get blood poisoning and my arm falls off. I’m sure that’ll be hilarious.” He grumbled.
“Do not worry. You know I would never let your arm fall off.” You replied assuredly.
He rolled his eyes again. “Oh, right. Nothing will happen to me because you’re here, my hero.”
“Eeexactly.” You smiled and finished bandaging his arm.
He looked down and lightly touched the bandages, critically assessing your work. “Just a question…have you always been this insufferable, or did you become this annoying after starting this job?”
You smiled again. “It is an innate gift I believe.”
He rolled his eyes. “Oh, I see. So you’ve been born and raised to be a pain in the ass then. Wonderful. You’re the pinnacle of human achievement, truly the best of our species. Tell me, what made you want to work at a nut house instead of a legitimate hospital?”
You smiled—but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “That is a story for another day, doctor.”
He huffed and shrugged. “I’m sure it’s such an inspiring story. Saving the lost souls of the most horrific killers this world has to offer. Aren’t you just a saint?”
You went to the sink and wordlessly washed your hands while he continued to sit on the bed.
“You should go into the Olympics, you know. You’d do great in the self-righteousness competition.” He jabbed.
“Oh? Is that so? Maybe I should…” You replied evenly with a thin smile and dried your hands in a towel. You then turned around to face him and said sarcastically. “But then who would be there to care about the poor little doctor who doesn’t care about his own life?”
He looked up at you with a slight glare, his expression turning to an annoyed one as you smirked down at him. “Don’t try to play the ‘who’ll take care of me’ card. I can take care of myself just fine; I already have, before I met you.”
You hummed. “And yet, you are here. In this hospital. Must mean that your former colleagues didn’t like you very much.”
He sighed and rolled his eyes again, his glare getting even more exaggerated. “Oh, you’re brilliant, you know that? You got me there. I don’t have a comeback for that. How about next you tell me how I’m still single and how I work too much—so you can complete the list of obvious things about me?”
You chuckled. “Why tell you things you already know?” Your eyes met his and you added. “How about being nice to the only colleague who actually tolerates you and wants to keep you alive? And a thanks? That would be a start.”
He rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but fine. Thank you for not letting me die. Satisfied?”
You smiled. “Immensely. Now if you will excuse me, I have patients to take care of.” You turned around and left—leaving Doctor House to meditate on your words..
That night
It was late at night and everyone had gone home for the night. However, you had fallen asleep at your desk. House limped down the dark quiet halls. He wasn’t sure why he had had the sudden urge to be up and about, but he couldn’t just stay in his office, staring blankly at the ceiling.
So here he was, wandering the corridors, hoping to just kill time. He slowly walked past your office and noticed that the light was still on. Curiosity took hold of him, and he slowly poked his head through the crack of the open door.
Sure enough, there you were, slumped over your desk—sound asleep. What was it with you and working yourself to death? He quietly walked over to your desk, looking down at you with a bemused smile.
Your cheek was pressed against a list of files with a paper written: POTENTIAL FRIENDS FOR BRAHMS HEELSHIRE…
He picked up the list and skimmed over it, chuckling to himself at the idea of you looking for friends for Brahms, because the little boy man had asked for one.
Five Hargreeves.
Michael Myers.
Penny.
Jason Voorhees.
He shook his head as he read the list you had made. No way in hell would any of these freaks ever agree to befriend that creepy little doll fanatic. He looked down at you and shook his head with an amused smile. You were insane…But then, his hand moved on its own to stroke the back of your head.
He froze as his hand moved across your hair, and he realized what he was doing. What was he doing? What the hell was this?
He snatched his hand back and closed his eyes, trying to regain control of his body. He exhaled and ran his hand across his face instead, trying to compose himself. He needed work. Right. Work. So instead he looked over the files you were looking at. He took one of them and read over it, curious what information you had gathered on the potential friends for Brahms.
Some of the names on the list made sense, but some…made him do a double take. Jason Voorhees was a high-level threat patient. Even he rarely went into his cell…So why would you even think about him?
He looked over your notes. They both had family trauma, they both were rejected as a kid and seemed to share child-like traits…
He put down the file and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was crazy. But somehow it also made a lot of sense.
He shook his head before taking a marker…Time to act like his old jerk self again! He uncapped the marker—ready to scribble whatever on your face—but couldn't bring himself to do it. He looked over your sleeping form once again, then looked at the marker in his hand, feeling more and more frustrated with every passing second.
He couldn't force his mind to think the negative things that were his MO. He leaned against the side of the desk and sighed again. He shook his head. He was behaving like an idiot. Hell, he should be drawing all over your stupid face right now, like his brain was telling him to do.
His fingers slowly slipped to the back of your neck and he frowned a little as he noticed how warm you actually were.
That wasn’t normal.
“Hey, Y/N?” He called you, but you didn’t answer. “Hey, come on, wake up, sunshine.” He called out to you again, a bit louder this time.
When you still didn’t respond, he put down the marker on the desk and moved next to you. He gently shook your shoulder, trying to make you respond with increasing worry. He tried once again to shake your shoulder, and this time, you groaned and slowly lifted your head off the desk, but you didn’t seem aware of your surroundings.
You then noticed Doctor House and smiled—clearly in a daze “Hi…Sorry. I fell asleep. My head is…killing me.”
He sighed with a mixture of worry and relief, seeing that you were at least awake now. “Yeah, no kidding. You’re burning up…”
You scoffed and stood up. “Nonsense. I feel fine…”
You almost fell. He caught you with difficulty. “Right. You can’t even stand on your own two feet, don’t try to feed me that garbage. You’re sick. Take it from the doctor.”
You didn’t move and groaned again. “I shouldn’t be sick. I have work to do. Your leg will give out and then we’ll both fall like two idiots…”
He sighed. “…My leg’s fine. It’s not like I’m gonna collapse if you lean on me. You need to lie down. Come on.” He moved you both to the couch in the corner of the office and laid you down. “….How long have you been feeling sick?”
You sighed. “I don’t know…This afternoon? I went to check on a patient and returned to my office and now my head has a giant hammer inside pounding against my skull…”
He sighed again, feeling your fever once more. “Don’t you know better than to ignore signs of an oncoming illness? You’re a nurse, aren’t you?”
You looked up at him with eyes half closed and a massive headache before seething. “Fffffffffffffffffff—you.”
“You can’t even swear at me properly. You really are sick.” He replied with a smirk.
You sighed and resigned yourself to being a slug. House watched you for a long moment, expecting you to protest again. Instead, you simply curled up slightly on the couch, your eyes drifting shut immediately. It was so unlike you that it bothered him. The woman who spent every waking hour racing from one crisis to another, who somehow had enough energy to smile at every patient she met, had turned into this…over-exhausted pile of flesh.
He glanced back towards the cluttered desk. Several empty coffee mugs sat forgotten among the paperwork, and there was a half-eaten granola bar still in its wrapper that looked as though it had been abandoned hours earlier.
Judging from the state of the office alone, you hadn’t been taking particularly good care of yourself.
His eyes narrowed. “No wonder.”
He pushed himself upright with his cane and limped over to the small cabinet in the corner of the office that served as your emergency medical supplies. He opened it without ceremony, rifling through its contents. Thermometer. Blood pressure cuff. Disposable gloves. Antipyretics. Oral rehydration salts.
He grabbed what he needed before returning to the couch.
You didn’t even open your eyes when he slipped the digital thermometer beneath your tongue. “…Don’t chew it.”
You gave him an incoherent grunt that sounded vaguely offended but obeyed nonetheless. The thermometer beeped and he pulled it free to look at it. “One hundred and three. What an idiot…”
You frowned without opening your eyes. “I heard that.”
“I’m counting on it.” He reached for the bottle of fever reducer, shook two tablets into his hand, then filled a paper cup with water from the cooler in the corner. “Sit up.”
He slid one arm carefully behind your shoulders and lifted you just enough that you were sitting against the armrest. Your head immediately lolled sideways until it came to rest against his shoulder.
He placed the tablets into your hand. “Medicine.”
You looked down at your own fingers as though they belonged to somebody else. “…How?”
He sighed tiredly. “You put them in your mouth.”
“…Oh.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Medical school. And yet here we are.”
You swallowed the tablets with the water he held for you before immediately allowing your head to fall back against his shoulder again. House found himself sitting there far longer than he’d intended. His original plan had simply been to confirm you weren’t dead. Then it had become making sure you took something for the fever. Now…he was apparently functioning as furniture. For the first time since he’d met you, you looked genuinely at peace. His eyes drifted back toward the files scattered across your desk.
Every page was covered with observations written in your handwriting—not about what crimes they’d committed, but about what made them laugh, what frightened them, what foods they preferred, which staff members they trusted, how they reacted to praise, and which patients might calm each other instead of provoking one another.
You stirred against him. “House…”
He looked down immediately. “What?”
“…Don’t…forget to feed the Penny Brothers…”
He blinked. Despite your fever, despite barely being conscious, you were still worrying about the patients. He sighed and closed his eyes. “Right…”
the internal tension between being a prickly judgemental cunt and someone who loves people to the point of tears has resulted in a maxim i like to call Everyone Is Beautiful and I Hate Them So Much
