#house md fan fiction

[that-anxious-enby]

why are there non-smutty hilson fics? if i wanted to see 2 old men live together, flirt, and have intense homoerotic tension with no payoff, id just watch the show???

[mossysoupfrog]

MY WIFE (ao3) HAS COME BACK FROM WAR (scheduled maintenance) AFTER 30 YEARS AWAY (10 hours for which I was asleep for 9) OH HOW I HAVE MISSED HER

[moons-on-wheels]

WILSON IS NOT A FUCKING TOP!!!! IF YOUR FANFICTION HAS WILSON BEING A TOP NO IT DOESNT!!! FUCK YOU!!! AMBER DOMINATED HIS ASS AND HOUSE DOES TOO!!! HE IS A BOTTOM FOR LIFE!!!!!

[househrt]

Resource for whumpy hurt/comfort fic writers!!

Welcome to the St John of God Clinical Resources. It's from Western Australia and it includes a ton of info for medical professionals, meant to be a guide for paramedics ('To provide a written outline of systematic patient assessment and management in the pre-hospital situation').

The website is here, and it also exists as a 312-page PDF here.

It includes:

Clinical Practice Guidelines/Management aka "what does this injury/condition look like and how should it be managed/treated?" Conditions are sorted into broad categories of Neurological, Respiratory, Circulation, Trauma, Obstetric, Metabolic, Environmental, Anaphylaxis, Sepsis, and Toxicology. In each category, there's more specifics (i.e. within Trauma, there's all of these: Abdominal trauma, burn trauma, crush injury, eye injuries, haemorrhage, limb trauma, pelvic trauma, pneumothorax, spinal trauma, thoracic trauma, and traumatic brain injury). Then, within each condition, it tells you the presentation, risk assessment, and how it should be managed by paramedics (screenshots under the cut).

Skills aka "how do I do this and what do I need?" Again, it's sorted into categories: Assessment, Airway, Breathing, Circulation, Medications, Trauma, and Obstetrics, with specifics within each category. You wanna know how EpiPens work? Here. You wanna know suturing works? Here.

Medications aka: "what does this medication do, how does it work, and (for some meds) what's a standard dose for an adult of X weight?" (the website has a weight-based calculator for some meds) It's not a comprehensive list, but it's still so, so useful as a summary and starting point. It includes how quick the onset is, contraindications (times when the med shouldn't be used because it might be too harmful to the patient), etc.

It's got some other stuff too, but this post is already longer than I wanted it to be. Basically, it's useful, colour-coded and a great tool for writers if you want to get medical things accurate. Some of the language is obviously geared to medical professionals, but it's fairly accessible for the most part.

Some screenshots under the cut:

Screenshots from the website:

screenshots from the PDF:

[wilsons-three-legged-siamese]

i have an old fic on when amber died, she was pregnant and a heartbroken wilson was left to deal with a preemie baby while trying to deal with the loss of amber. because of him being so overwhelmed, he started to get sick all the time.

house doesn't know what to do blah blah

[maleyuri]

Most Fuckable Oncologist!!!?

Go!!! Now!!!

[junoito]

love when i search for a very specific set of tags on ao3 and only like 4 fics come up and 3 are from 10 years ago and one was from yesterday like hello

[surfacelvl]

hilson one shot except i wrote it as a flash fiction piece where the scene is too dark for the audience to see and i don't tell you who's talking but you'll know.

super short one-shot experiment where hilson come home drunk

[thankstothe]

Fandom girlie

[alex-guerin]

Don't mind me. I'm just over here, attempting to start my first Hilson fic (well, first in probably 16 years, cuz I know way back when I had started one that got exactly nowhere very quickly). Trying to decide if I want to leave the opening like this...or put in descriptors and shit.

While writing this in my head at work, the opening has always remained as a black screen with dialog voice over, but...maybe I should introduce the characters (one has kind of been introduced. His name at least was used).

[antimisery-core]

shout out to the people that make aesthetic posts for their favorite fics. have found many really good ones that way. appreciate y’all’s service fr 🫡🫡

[plorpl]

On my second re-watch of the series. In full brainworm mode. Struck me how stupid it is that Wilson's office is next to House's instead of near the department he runs. Wrote this to smooth it over (and make myself sad).

~1000 words, gen, set post-series

-------------------------------------------------------------

“Do you remember… during the remodel?”

Wilson’s voice came low from a few feet away, barely audible over the sound of the highway just outside the window. They’d stopped riding late in the day, exhausted and cranky, eaten what they had left of their stash of granola bars and beef jerky for dinner, and flopped into beds without even washing off the grime from the road.

All signs pointed to falling asleep quickly, waking up in a better mood, leaving the squalor of this roadside motel for the squalor of the next. But neither of them were asleep two hours later. Wilson had started getting generalized chest pains at night, so bad he sometimes didn’t sleep; neither of them bothered to diagnose it, to explicate. It didn’t matter. They were three months into their trip, and they wouldn’t be able to keep the pace much longer.

House wet his lips and swallowed before answering. It was dry in Arizona. Go figure.

“What about the remodel?”

A brief pause, then, “Why aren’t you asleep?”

“Do you ask me questions while I’m asleep often?”

“Yeah.”

He looked over at that. Wilson was under the sheet and stiff comforter, shivering slightly. it was that kind of night, then.

“Wanna do drugs?”

It earned a smile and a nod. House sat up, rifled through his backpack, and rattled the bottle when he found it.

“You’re going to have to sit up.”

House watched him struggle a little. Wilson didn’t like being helped. He would take it when it was necessary, but before that point it tended to make him sour. They’d already bickered twenty times about the irony, so House didn’t bother making a sly remark.

He thumbed two pills out for each of them, and they swallowed them almost at the same time, House dry, Wilson with the help of a half-empty gatorade bottle on their shared nightstand. Wilson sat there for a few seconds, propped up on dingy pillows, hands clutched around his waist. His face was almost funny - clearly uncomfortable, but not as much as was called for. He looked like he’d smelled a fart, not like he'd been kept up for hours by the pains of a slow death. House wondered for the thousandth time if all that politeness and bravery and bluster was for his sake or Wilson's own.

House felt the vicodin hit his bloodstream, and his eyes slipped closed. When he opened them again, Wilson was watching him with that look of his. House’s throat clicked as he swallowed.

“Well? What about the remodel?”

“You leaned on Cuddy so hard. Tormented her for weeks.”

It had been an interesting time - demolition, fresh paint on the walls, doctors packed into temporary buildings and loaned out to other hospitals. Cuddy was beside herself for three months straight, and House had done nothing to help the matter.

“She was expecting me to hire three people. I needed the space.”

Wilson shook his head. “I'm not talking about that part. Although your office size was ridiculous. Hennings almost quit over it.”

“Hack.”

Wilson smiled again, then started to push himself back down the bed gingerly. House just watched him, figuring he’d continue the conversation if he wanted to.

Wilson tucked the covers up to his chin, sighed happily, and said, “I know it’s probably lost on you at this point, but those things make me feel good all over.”

“It’s nice, right?”

“No, I mean all over. Even the sheets feel good. Like my skin is fuzzy.”

He was clearly a little loopy, but House knew what he meant. It would took quite a dose to get House to that point.

“It’s so nice to share hobbies.”

Wilson laughed, really laughed.

“Can you come over here?” Wilson motioned to the other side of his bed with his head only. “I think I need to lay on this side for a bit.”

He started turning slowly without waiting for a response. It was the kind of anodyne request that House had never stomached from anyone but Wilson, and sometimes not even him. Lately, though he always did. It didn’t sting anymore.

He stood, stretched, and limped around the foot of the bed, rolled onto it, over the covers. He settled on his back, one hand behind his head, watching Wilson’s forehead relax as the vicodin did its work.

Wilson shifted and shivered again, but somehow House didn’t think it was the pain anymore.

“I toured the oncology wing.” He spoke without opening his eyes. “Walked around my future office before the walls were put in. I remember, they put me between Greenbeck and Tom. I was mad about not getting the corner. But I didn’t say anything, of course. God forbid I actually ask for anything I want.” Wilson opened his eyes. “And then,” his voice broke, “I got to work on the first day back. Cuddy cut the ribbon, the whole shebang. I went up to my office... But it wasn’t there.”

House just watched him. It had been part of his deal with Cuddy. The primary stipulation, actually. He told her that Wilson was in on it, that he'd agreed to it, but that had been a lie. He had been too worried Wilson would veto it.

“I’ll never forget finding it,” he paused to smile, small and sad, “seeing my name on the door."

House breathed to say something, maybe sarcastic, make him laugh. Please, laugh again. He came up empty.

Wilson wet his lips and said, “I remember standing there, thinking - thinking that this might be the clearest I would ever hear it from you... Hear that you want me around. That you need me. Not for a favor. Not for a prescription, for distraction, for a laugh. Just for me, to be near to you.”

House breathed and watched his eyes through the dark - soft at the edges, earnest, alive.

“This is what you say to me when I’m asleep? Kinda fruity.”

And it did get him a laugh. A good one. House smiled back.

Wilson managed to free his arm from the covers. He laid a light hand on House’s shoulder, thumb rubbing back and forth. He got this way when he was high - tactile and sentimental. Or maybe it was the dying. Or maybe he'd always been this way, and always held it back.

House turned onto his side, facing him, ran a reciprocating hand up and down Wilson’s arm in a slow circuit. Wilson closed his eyes to the feeling.

“It’s actions,” Wilson breathed. “It’s actions that matter.”

They fell asleep like that, and woke early, and never talked about work again.

-------------------------------------------------------------

My other Hilson fic, also written in a fugue state

[moldy-cheese-being]

guys i just read the cutest fic, you will absolutely love it if you're a fan of "house does something unexpectedly sweet because wilson is upset" type fics

[unvsannvs]

This is the reason I can’t even feel mad at people who think House and Wilson are platonic because they love each other but it doesn’t even need to be romantic, I totally understand (but it still fits to ship them platonically or romantically in my eyes so I suppose that’s why I do love them together)

Normalize super close friendships instead of assuming there must be a romantic and/or sexual factor—friends are a wonderful treasure!

[wilsons-three-legged-siamese]

little thing i cooked up

word count; 302

summary; SPOILERS FOR HOUSE MD!!

cuddy gets a letter from house, explaining whats happened since she went..

as i held the letter, a sense of nostalgia hit me. the handwriting was oddly familiar, it was messy and in all capitals.. but i cant recall why it was familiar. it was strange. lucas and rachel were in the other room, i could hear them playing together softly through the closed door - yet i felt disassociated. i go to hesitantly open the letter, delicately ripping at the adhesive. i pull at the letter, it coming out. i unfold it, it was all handwritten.

"dear cuddy,"

the first line read. i skimmed through the rest- wait- wait a second. why did it say house on it? plus, why where there tear marks on this? this must be a prank. so, i read it closer.

"you probably never wanted to hear from me again, and i get it. i fucked up real bad. but you deserve to know what has happened."

i almost audibly gasp, it really was house. but what happened?

"after i was let out of prison, wilson, my dear wilson.. was diagnosed with thymoma, stage two."

then i gasp. wilson, with cancer? no, no this must be a joke. this is awful.. no, he should've never. no.. god, thats horrible. wait, did it say his dearest-

"i ran away with him, as i was going back to prison. and we went on a roadtrip, around america."

i smiled a little at that, it was a very housian thing to do. good, trying to give wilson the life he deserved..

"he unfortunately passed this morning.. it was peaceful. my dear, dear partner..

i wrote this to invi-"

hang on, partner? this must not be right.. no.

"-te you to his funeral. i will be there, though i am under the name hugh smith.

farewell,

hugh, aka, house."

.. i need a drink.

[goodluckdetective]

I’ve started playing dnd again and the campaign I’m in has the pitch that we all must be characters from written works. The plot is we got thrown out of our own stories and must find our way back.

I am Hamlet, a warlock who made a pact with his Dad’s ghost (it’s absolutely his Dad’s ghost, he wasn’t tricked at all, ignore the fiend patron type) to get revenge on his Uncle. But this post isn’t about him.

Because our cleric, the one entrusted with keeping the party full of heals, the only person with healing magic, is House MD.

“Wait Iz!” You cry. “House MD is a television show, not written fiction.” You’d be correct. Which is why our cleric House is not from the television show.

He’s from a fan fiction.

It’s as funny as it sounds.