#well technically you ARE right wilson

[astromechs]

oh my god, it's the queerbait episode

[camgoloud]

finished season 2! the chase obsession has unfortunately not diminished in the slightest (on. the contrary) BUT the little mini-arc focusing on cameron and foreman’s relationship at the end of the season has managed to get me nearly equally obsessed with them <3 why does no one ever talk about their dynamic. maybe people do talk about their dynamic and i just haven’t seen enough of the fandom yet to know about it BUT REALLY everything about them together in these episodes is so compelling… when two self-righteous tryhards hatelovetrust(dis)respect each other very much. they stab each other with needles and then feel so badly tragically pathetically sorry about it :(

OKAY i’m finished watching season 1 of house md. three stories is a CRAZY good episode of television. like everyone else i came to this show for the toxic old man yaoi but unfortunately i do think i’m going to have to stay for of all people the blond australian catholic idiot with the most daddy issues in the world. having a great time would recommend (/s) (genuinely unsure whether by /s i mean /serious or /sarcastic)

[lanawinterscigarettes]

Sweatshirt (Greg House x reader)

Summary: House gets jealous by a certain article of clothing you're wearing

Warnings: petty/jealous House (aka the best kind), heavily implied poly House x reader x Wilson in case that's not your thing, very mild and brief swearing

A/N: based off a random little thought I had. don't ask me when during the show this is supposed to be set because I have no clue

It was missing. Wilson's McGill sweatshirt was missing, and House was very upset. It was his turn to wear it, and although he could've sworn he left it balled up on his side of the bed before he left for work it wasn't there when he returned.

The thought popped into his head that someone might've stolen it, but that was just stupid. After all, who would break into his apartment just to take a sweater?

You, apparently, as he soon came to realize when combing back over his place to look for it. He hadn't noticed it on you at first when he walked in, but now it was hard to miss, like a bright red target painted across your chest.

He almost glared at the way you were casually lounging on the couch, reading a book as if you hadn't stolen from him. "You're wearing his sweater." It wasn't a question, rather a statement, which made sense due to how very obvious the fact was.

You looked up from where you'd been reading and gave him an unimpressed look. "And you walk with a cane. Tell me something I don't know."

The corners of his lips quirked upwards into an amused half smile, but he tried to push his fond thoughts of you to the side for the time being. "You know, it's my turn to wear his sweater."

Letting out a hum, you dropped your eyes back down to the book in your hands and lazily turned the page. "Technically, it's my turn, after you decided to hide it for three weeks so I couldn't wear it."

That was true, he did do that. It was for no reason other than to mess with you, but now he was really started to regret his past decisions, something that rarely happened, if ever.

"You stole it from me, right out of my very own bed," he tried a different approach, putting on a face of mock hurt and offense in hopes of swaying you and getting it back. "Shame on you."

"You stole it from me first." Damn it, you had him there. "I was just returning the favor."

House stood there in front of you for a few minutes more hoping you'd somehow break with no such luck. Sighing loudly, he flopped down in his armchair, giving you a dirty look. "You know, two wrongs don't make a right."

You glanced up from your book, peeking at him from over the top of it. "An ethics lecture coming from you of all people? Well, this oughta be good." Now, it was your turn to be amused, something that didn't bode well with his competitive nature.

Seeing as it wasn't going to happen any other way, he tried a more direct approach in order to get you to give it back. "I want it. I want to wear it. It's mine."

"Technically, no, it's not. It's Wilson's, and I'm borrowing it," you pointed out, appearing unbothered by the evil look getting thrown your way. "Go find something else of his to wear if it's upsetting you so bad."

"I don't want to wear something else, though," he whined obnoxiously, trying to get on your nerves. It was working, but not nearly enough to get him what he wanted.

"Tough, because I'm wearing it right now. You're just going to have to deal with it."

Part of you thought that maybe you'd won this argument when he got up and left the room, but that thought was soon diminished when he came back less than a few minutes later, throwing something at your head.

"Really?" You asked in obvious irritation while pulling the shirt he'd thrown at you off your head.

"Put that on, and give me the sweatshirt back. That way you'll still feel all cozy and close to your doting boyfriends without having to wear that specifically," he reasoned as he stood there, his hands resting on the top of his cane. He looked proud of himself, like he was a little kid who'd finally solved a puzzle.

Despite your annoyance, it was hard to keep the slight smile off your face. Still, you weren't going to let him win that easily. "I'm not wearing it because of sentimental value. I'm wearing it because it's comfortable."

He groaned loudly, becoming visibly annoyed. "Why must you always be so damn difficult?"

"Funny, I could ask you the same question," you muttered as you held up the shirt and took a good look at it. It was one of House's old band tees, which made you realize something. "Hold on, are you jealous because you don't get to wear the sweatshirt, or is it because I'm wearing Wilson's clothes and not yours?"

The obvious pout on his face quickly gave away the answer. "Just give me the sweatshirt now, and I'll promise I'll give it back later." He held his hand out expectantly, resulting in you throwing his shirt back at his face.

"Nice try, but you're going to have to pry this off my cold, dead body." You settled back into the couch with your book as he walked away, grumbling under his breath. It appeared as though you'd won the battle, for now at least.

End notes: I've never written for House before but I tried to capture his personality the best I could! Hope y'all liked the Hilson references sprinkled in lol

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[evilminji]

Okay... so it COULD be because, as a writer, I'm an ASSHOLE to my Characters...

BUT YOU KNOW WHAT'D BE FUNNY?

Danny, innocent, gets YEETED into DC. As ya do. And he's a bit messed up. But! He's a Baby Ancient in the making. Gonna be master of Spaaaaaace(~~~☆!) one day. Very exciting, only slightly relevant.

See, Ectoplasm? Dumb. That's why we need Cores and Brains etc. Never let Ectoplasm decide things. It WILL chose the "technically correct but now the buildings on fire" option EVERY SINGLE TIME. And you are running out of fire extinguishers.

Because it is dumb.

Very, VERY No Brain, Just Goo, Dumb.

And THIS Goo has a life to save. A Halfa too maintain in Peak Performance(tm). Because THIS Goo is VERY smart Goo(according only to itself) and TOTALLY knows what it's doing! Damaged meat bits? Oh that's EASY! You just FIX that! Replace with meat bits! See? It's BRILLIANT Goo. 10 out of 10 stars, me!

Small problem.

The instructions have been damaged.

PANIC.

Wait! No! We got this! We are Very Smart Goo(tm). And have Space Powers. This is FINE. We'll... we'll just FIX the instructions! Hand me a hammer! If we smash enough bits together, it'll sort? Of look right? Close ENOUGH? Yeeeeeah. We're GENIUS Goo~

Use THAT!

But where did they GET their ill begotten DNA? Well OBVIOUSLY the place all the OTHER DNA they had was stored, DUH? Keep up, says the Goo with literally no braincells making horrifying choices for an unconscious man. It's Earth.

As in... the planet.

It's not even HIS planet. It's AN Earth. A Planet CALLED "Earth" that dwells in the DC universe, not his, and is covered with ZERO(0) Fentons but plenty of superhumans and aliens. THAT planet.

The Goo grabbed the Very BESTEST Meat Instructions it could FIND! The Goo is also a collective and did not AGREE on what the "Best" WAS. But it's... okay, no, I can't lie to you, it is NOT fine.

But thankfully it IS stable.

Because Ectoplasm may be dumb and indiscriminate as super-bacteria with a flamethrower, but it is a MASTER at the jigsaw of Life. It can reanimate ANYTHING.

Including the now SINGLE MOST CHIMERAD MAN you've ever SEEN. Who is he related too? YES. His left knee is Kryptonian, the fingers on his right hand are Tameranian, his skin tone has shifted to the most ambiguously multi-ethnic tone imaginable (think that future of humanity mock up, where they combine every ethnicity on the premise that inter-racial marriage will becoming increasingly common up to the point where we all just kinda look averaged out thanks to the ease of travel) because it's trying to do all of them at once and none of them are willing to back down, because all of them got the instructions "Be Skin". He might have Slade Wilson's cheek bones and hair.

Danny wakes up and basicly is half Ectoplasmic Goo, half the extended Super Community.

AND CANT GET BACK HOME TO FIX IT.

Because of course this IS fixable. It's just medical shape-shifting. But without HIS template, undamaged. His body is REFUSING to change from what is OBVIOUSLY the CORRECT form. And he keeps getting clocked as "probably related to me".

With the Fenton Luck kicking in? The parts of him people manage to swab and/or get DNA from? Keep MATCHING them. Danny doesn't know WHO is behind this but-! *spots a giggle child with a cat* !!!!!!

You.

Klarion you little SHIT!

So now he's wearing a face that's BARELY his, running from very determined superhumans who want to parent him, trying to steal enough technology to build a portal. AND vowing to kick the witch boy's ASS.

This ISNT FUNNY, KLARION.

His body is Frankenstein's FEVER DREAM! Every time he gets hurt, it tries to "FIX" itself! He lost a chunk of his should back there and HIS ENTIRE BODY CHANGED SKIN TONES. He's pretty sure if he SITS funny, his teeth might fall out and regrow POINTY! He's handing you over to WALKER you horrible little gremlin child!

Just? Take the "Danny is related to X" and "Danny is sick" and turn them uuuuup. Make EVERYBODY concerned except Danny. This is just another fucked up adventure in a long string of fucked up adventures. Give him his DNA back. If he has to suffer the Fenton Luck then he should AT LEAST get to keep the Fenton "built like a tank"!

*gets hit again*

*is GREEN now for some reason* The fuck?

Garfield, aka Beast Boy: I HAVE A CLONE SON!?

Danny: Zone DAMN IT not another one!

@ailithnight @hdgnj @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter

[underwhelmingalchemist]

I'm OBSESSED with this re:vampire!Wilson

all the mischief he could do,,,,,,, this is so perfect and real and true

I would also love love love to see a montage of House practising and fucking up the dosages at first and repeatedly drugging himself until his tolerance builds enough

House is a doctor. He has a precise knowledge of the human body: its composition, its chemistry, and, most importantly, its limits. So surely he can pull a Princess Bride-style trick off no problem, right?

And then he was waking up in his bathtub, his mouth tasting bitter and his head throbbing.

Okay, so clearly this was going to be a bit more difficult than he'd thought.

More research. More experiments. More making up half-sarcastic excuses of why Wilson couldn't drink from him that day. "Not tonight, honey, I have a headache." And a couple more mornings of waking up in strange places in his apartment, although those were now pretty rare.

About a year had passed since Wilson first started drinking from him when he walked into his office, two coffees in hand. Well, technically, one coffee in hand, one coffee in the crook of his elbow, and his cane in the other hand.

"House, you know I don't drink-"

"Come on, I got it just how you like."

"That's impossible. I don't- I can't drink coffee."

"Come on, just give it a try."

Wilson studied him, trying to figure out what was hiding behind the dry, flippant tone.

"House."

"Wilson."

"Are you trying to drug me?"

"What?! Is that really what you think of me? I'm hurt."

Wilson just stared at him with a blank expression.

"Fine, watch." He took the coffee, brought it to his lips, and chugged it all in one go as Wilson watched. He lowered the cup with a dramatical "ahhh", and then held the other one out to Wilson.

"I'm not falling for that. And there's no way you didn't just burn the hell out of your mouth just now."

He had.

"Fine." House dropped the remaining, full coffee into the trash can without looking down as it fell from his hand.

Wilson gave an exasperated sigh, rubbing his temples. "House, can I just drink from you already? It's been days, and the janitor 'accidentally' threw away my blood packets."

"Huh, wonder why he'd do that."

"Yeah. I wonder," Wilson replied dryly, staring at House with dark-circled eyes. It was clear the lack of blood had taken a toll on him.

Good. Fewer questions that way.

"Fine," House relented, tugging aside his collar. "You better not get blood on my good shirt again."

"Thank you. And only if you don't start moving again."

About half an hour later, Wilson was on the floor, and House was sitting with his feet on the desks, going through his files, the empty drugged coffee sitting in the trash beside the clean one Wilson had refused. No use wasting expensive drugs on a coffee he wasn't going to drink, after all. He needed some for the future, just in case.

Hi sorry this started out as an actual reply and then turned into a ficlet whoops

[shmaptainwrites]

'𝐓𝐈𝐋 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐃𝐎 𝐔𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 [𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐒𝐎𝐍]

PAIRINGS — James Wilson x fem!Reader

SUMMARY — James and Reader receive some news that changes everything

WARNINGS — Cancer, cancer treatments (chemotherapty, radiation), hospitals, medical emergencies, ambiguous ending, lots of angst and hurt comfort

NOTE — Yeah so this is technically ansgty James fic no. 2 not no. 1, I personally love the way this one turned out but just a reminder that if you find any of the things mentioned in the warnings triggering please don't read it and put your mental well-being first!

James could feel his heart beating out of his chest. The pounding was ringing in his ears, so much so he could barely hear his colleague as he spoke to him. He thought he probably looked stupid, his mouth hanging slightly agape. 

When he turned around to see you, somehow you were taking the news in much better stride than he was, hands curled up in your lap, nodding along as the doctor spoke. 

As his colleague finished speaking he handed you a few papers to look through, but motioned to James, for what at this point James wouldn’t be able to tell, his ears still ringing as the blood drained from his face. On his way out, the fellow doctor patted James on the shoulder. He assumed it was supposed to be reassuring, but nothing could help him at that moment. 

He wondered if all these years this is how his patients had felt, that even with the most gentle delivery, it wouldn’t change the fact that everything was about to change.

You didn’t say anything, simply looking through the papers and placing a hand on his leg giving it a small squeeze. 

He ran a hand through his hair before bringing it down to hold yours that was resting on his leg. He squeezed it so tight, but you continued reading, giving him a few more moments to adjust. 

Eventually, you couldn’t stand the silence any longer, so you broke it. 

“Jamie-,” 

“How are you so calm?” he interrupted you immediately. 

“My reaction isn’t going to change what’s happening,” you whispered. 

He ran his hands over his face, biting back the tears that were pooling in his eyes. 

“I’m sorry I can’t be like that,” he chuckled humourlessly and you simply wrapped an arm around him, pressing a kiss to his temple. 

“I wouldn’t expect you to be,” you murmured. “Not with everything racing through your head.” 

Your thumb brushed across his forehead, pushing some of his hair out of the way. 

“I’m still here,” you whispered. “I’m here now.” 

He sniffed and tried to sit up straighter, wiping his eyes and nodding his head. 

“You’re right,” he cleared his throat. “I-I’m gonna go tell Cuddy I need to head out early. Wait by my office?” 

“Sure,” you agreed. 

James stood up to leave, but you stopped him. 

“Jamie,” you curled your finger, telling him to come closer, which he did, allowing you to press a soft kiss to his lips. “I love you.” 

“I-I love you too,” he held your face in one hand, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “So much.” 

You smiled while he let his hand drop, making his way to Cuddy’s office. He didn’t feel like it was time to reveal the news in its entirety, so he blamed it on a household emergency for the time being, and Cuddy, knowing James would never leave work without good reason, easily let him go as long as one of the other doctors took care of his patients. 

It wasn’t hard to find someone willing to cover for him. James was well-liked and had made a few friends over the course of his time at Princeton Plainsboro. When he came to his office to grab you to head out, he saw you sitting quietly on the couch, reading one of his medical encyclopedias. 

“Are you sure you want to be looking at that?” he asked, his jacket slung over his arm as he leaned in the door frame. 

“I was just curious,” you said simply, closing the book. “Let’s go home.” 

You pushed yourself up off the couch and James wrapped an arm around your shoulder to rub your arm before dropping his hand and intertwining it with yours. 

The drive home started out silent; aside from the music playing in the background. You had glanced through James’ CD folder, picking something familiar and sliding it into the player. 

“Oh come on,” James looked over at you and you playfully smiled. “Really, honey?” 

“I figured we could use some smiles,” you nudged him gently, careful not to alter his steering. “I take it you remember this one then?” 

“Of course I do,” he moved his hand from the gear shift to hold yours. “You forced the band to play it at our wedding, much to their horror.” 

“It’s not that bad,” you chuckled. 

“You sure? Because I’m fairly certain you’re the only one enjoying themselves whenever it comes on,” he teased. 

“You look like you’re enjoying yourself right now.” 

“Only because you are.” 

He focused back on his driving, still steering one-handed. When you pulled into the driveway of your house, you grabbed your purse and James took his jacket and briefcase and you went around and entered from the back door which you had left unlocked. 

After you got settled, changed into something more comfortable and went to sit on the couch, James came up and handed you a glass of water with a Tylenol. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked, sitting next to you. 

“Aside from the headache I’m okay,” you assured him after taking the medication. “Feeling lucky.” 

“Lucky?” he scoffed incredulously. He felt the opposite of lucky and he wasn’t even the sick one. 

“Yeah. Lucky to have you,” you placed the water down on the coffee table before turning in his direction and holding his face in your hands. “Not everyone in my position can say their husband is an oncologist.” 

He nodded his head, “You’re right, they can’t. W-When are we supposed to go in for your first appointment?” 

“Tomorrow. I told him we’d like to start treatment as soon as possible,” you kissed his forehead. “Plus, you can come visit me while you’re working. I’ll be right in your backyard.” 

“You’ve definitely got that right,” he held your wrist and turned his head to press a kiss to your hand. 

You moved so you were laying down with your back against his chest and he wrapped his arms around you and kissed your hair. 

“Jamie?” 

“Mhmm.” 

“Just because I’m trying to stay positive,” you started with a quiet voice, “it doesn’t mean I’m not scared.” 

“I know, sweetheart,” he assured you and ran his hands up and down your arms. 

“Just promise me that even if we’re both scared, you’ll never stop being honest with me. Even if it’s hard and even if it’s looking bad.” 

“Of course. We’re in this together, just like always.” 

His words gave you enough comfort to close your eyes, knowing that with the next little while having many shifts and changes, it would probably be good that you get as much rest as you could. 

—

“Hey, I brought you some food from home for lunch,” James said as he pulled open the sliding door and entered your hospital room. 

“Thanks, but I don’t really have much of an appetite right now,” you admitted. 

“Chemo this morning?” he asked and you nodded. “That’s okay, I’ll just put it here in case you change your mind.” 

“House dropped by to see me,” you said, placing your hands in your lap with raised brows. 

“Oh, now that is surprising. He hates visiting patients.” 

“That’s what I said,” you chuckled, “but he had come to the very rational conclusion that since we were already acquainted and we knew what was wrong with me it was okay to come and say a quick hello.” 

“That’s definitely House,” James nodded. “I hope he didn’t say anything totally off-putting, you know how he is.” 

“It was fine,” you assured him. “He loves you too much to bother me like that.” 

“If it feels like too much to do the treatment here just say the word and we can change hospitals,” James said. “I know there’s lots of people you know wandering around these halls so if at any point you feel uncomfortable just tell me, okay?” 

“I will, but I’d rather be here. It’s close to you and you trust your colleagues, that’s enough for me.” 

“Are you sure? And you’re looking a little feverish, are you hot? And-,” 

“James, please, I’m fine,” you reached out and held his hand. “I love you and I promise I’m okay right now.” 

“You never call me James.” 

“I was trying to put emphasis on what I was saying so you knew I was serious,” you gave him a half smile. 

“You promise to tell me if something feels off? Even now with your appetite, if you feel nauseous we can give you something to help with that.” 

“I promise,” you assured him. “Cross my heart and hope to-,” you stopped, chewing on your words before deciding on just saying. “Cross my heart.” 

“Okay,” he sighed. “I’ll try and let up, but it’s going to be hard.” 

“I know, which is why I appreciate you trying,” you squeezed his hand. 

“My lunch break is almost over. I should probably head back.” 

You could sense he didn’t want to leave, so you motioned for him to come to you so you could give him a kiss to help him get through the rest of the day. 

“You know, you’re still as beautiful as the day I met you,” he smiled at you. 

“The day you met me I was covered head-to-toe in mud and was pissed off like there was no tomorrow,” you laughed. 

“Exactly,” he winked and you rolled your eyes, blowing him a kiss as he walked out of your room. 

James was in decent spirits for the next part of his shift. Even though he was stressed and tired, he found ways to help and connect with his patients along with their worried family members, feeling a new sense of empathy for them and their situation. 

He handled everything as he usually did, but with an extra added care that could only come from personal experience. Every patient was different, some wanted to know every detail and others nothing at all and he did his best to accommodate each one. 

He was speaking with one of the family members later in the day about what the next steps in treatment could look like. In this case the cancer was at an early stage and could be treated by a variety of means as it hadn’t metastasized. 

James was interrupted when he heard a scream of pain coming from across the hall. He would have let someone else deal with it, but he recognized the sound of the voice crying out in hurt. 

“I-I’m so sorry can you excuse me,” he said quickly while running towards your room, seeing you hunched over by your bed, clutching onto your leg while a nurse attended to you and your oncologist ran past James to see what was happening. “What’s going on?” he asked. “What is it?” 

“Looks like DVT,” his colleague said. “We need to get her into an OR to remove the clot.” 

He called for someone to prepare the OR and James quickly rushed to your side, holding onto you while you were still doubled over in pain. His mind was racing, what had changed in the few hours he hadn’t been with you? You were fine before. Was there a cause outside of the chemo? Something that aggravated the situation? 

“God!” you grimaced through gritted teeth, gripping onto your leg as they moved you onto the gurney. “Jamie, it hurts,” you cried. 

“I know,” his hand rested on your forehead, his thumb gently moving back and forth. “I know, honey. They’re giving you something for the pain right now and they’re going to get you to an OR to deal with it.” 

Tears were streaming down your face when they finally injected you with a painkiller and one of the nurses came to say the OR was prepped and they were ready for you to be brought in. James walked next to your bed, his hand in yours until they came past the doors leading to the operating rooms where Cuddy had seen the events unfolding and quickly stepped in, grabbing him before he went any further. 

“Wilson, you can’t go in there,” she said. 

“What do you mean I can’t go in there, I need to-,” 

“She’s your family. You can’t.” 

James blinked a few times before swallowing thickly. Cuddy was right, they couldn’t make an exception for him just because he was a doctor. The procedure would turn out fine and everything would be okay. If only he could play the role of a concerned loved one, but no. He had to go back to work. 

“Take ten,” she said. “Get some water, take a breather.”

James clenched his jaw and nodded his head, moving away from the door and going instead to his office, quickly apologizing to the family member he was speaking to earlier, saying something had come up and he might be a moment. 

When he entered his office and shut the door and squeezed his eyes shut, begging himself not to cry, not when he had to go back to work. Dealing with the cancer treatment when he knew every possible side effect and everything that could go wrong like it was written on the back of his hand was difficult enough, but hearing you in pain, screaming for it to stop almost jolted his heart. 

He took Cuddy’s advice and grabbed a bottle of water, drinking some of it before deciding his best course of action was to get to work, distract himself. 

He went first to finish his conversation then do his rounds before heading down to the clinic before it closed. 

Just as his shift was about to end he heard the sound of his pager go off and he checked it, seeing a message from Cuddy that simply said: 

SHE’S FINE

Allowing him to finally let out a sigh of relief. 

You’d first be in post-op for a day or so recovering from the surgery then they would move you back to your regular room. 

As soon as his shift was over he had a feeling he wouldn’t be going home any time soon, so he searched in his bag for a change of clothes, finding a t-shirt, a sweater, and a pair of jeans and decided to get changed. 

As he walked in the hallway towards post-op he ran into a colleague from the department who was about to make a comment on his attire before he stopped her, 

“I’m off duty. Don’t worry, I’m not turning into House.” 

She nodded her head with a bit of a chuckle before wishing him a good night. 

When he came into your room you were still under anesthesia from the surgery so he pulled up a chair next to your bed and quietly waited for you to wake up.

After the kind of day he’d had, he was finding it hard to keep his eyes open. He felt his head slump and his eyes closed and he couldn’t be bothered to fight the sleep that came. 

Some time later, James could feel a light brush against his arm, pulling him out of his sleep. His eyes blinked open and he could see your arm reaching out for him. 

“Hey,” he rubbed his eyes before leaning forward in his chair, his hand caressing the side of your face. “You’re awake.” 

“That might be a stretch,” you murmured, your voice hoarse. 

“Let me get you some water,” he stood up and grabbed the pitcher and a cup, filling it with water and helping you drink some of it. 

“It’s late, how long have you been here?” you asked, holding his wrist while he came to sit next to you on the bed. 

“Since the end of my shift,” he yawned. 

“Jamie, you have work tomorrow. You should have gone home and gotten some sleep. Or even slept on the couch in your office,” you chastised. 

“And leave you in here alone?” he shook his head. “No way.” 

You moved slightly in the bed, off to the side and carefully turning so you were now lying on your leg that hadn’t been operated on, making just enough room for James to lie down next to you. You patted the empty spot on the bed and he didn’t fight you, kicking off his shoes and lying down with his forehead gently resting against yours and his hand holding your cheek. 

You were still fighting a little against the anesthetic to stay awake and James could see you trying your hardest to keep your eyes open. 

“It’s okay,” he kissed the space between your eyebrows. “Let’s sleep. You’ve got recovering to do and I have work.” 

“Mhmm,” you hummed and let your eyes close, feeling much more comfortable than before now that you were in the embrace of your husband. 

—

While you and James were both grateful the chemo and radiation hadn’t brought on any more complications, it was beginning to get harder to function on a daily basis. Whether it was the battery of tests they performed or the pain and sickness that came along with it and the treatment, it was taking every ounce of energy you had left to not be miserable. 

Unfortunately, James was spread a little thinner and he was miserable. 

You both practically lived at the hospital at this point and he couldn’t stand getting off work only to see that your symptoms from the treatment were getting worse every day. 

“Jamie, I’m sorry I can’t think straight, everything is really foggy right now. You’re going to have to ask him what he told me,” you sighed. “I’ll write it down next time, promise.” 

“Sure, that’s okay,” he held your hand brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “It’s just the chemo, the fog will go away sometime after the treatment is over.” 

“You think we’ll get to that point?” 

“I was trying to be more positive like you,” he teased. “But it might get to that point and it might not. And if it does, it’s because it’s stage 3 there’s a higher chance of relapse.”

“Just means we get to hang out more,” you wiggled your eyebrows and James laughed a little. 

“I don’t know how you do it, honey,” James sighed. “I’d be spinning in circles if I were you. I’d be doing it right now if it weren’t for you.” 

“Just takes a little bit of delusion and a whole lot of denial,” you joked. “And maybe a little bit of worry too.” 

James looked at you curiously and you went on.

“Worry that if I’m miserable then that cute oncologist that keeps visiting me might start to spiral.” 

“Sweetheart,” he whispered. “You don’t have to be strong for me.” 

You were too tired to fight the tears forming in your eyes as you shook your head. 

“If I'm not strong for you, who's gonna do it Jamie? You’re already too busy being strong for me, for all of your patients, for your friends…” 

James leaned in closer to you, clasping your hand in both of his own, pressing a delicate kiss to it. 

“We’re a team. We look after each other,” you stated firmly. “So I’m gonna keep being positive even if this sucks ass because we both need it, okay?”

James nodded his head. 

“Okay, but promise me one thing.” 

You nodded for him to continue. 

“If it sucks a lot and you feel it in here,” he put a hand over your heart. “For the love of God, don’t keep it to yourself. Tell me, we’ll let it suck for a bit and then we can go back to being positive.” 

Your lips trembled a little until you bit down on your lower lip and slowly nodded your head. 

“Maybe it can suck for a bit right now,” you whispered, letting a tear slip from your eye. 

You were quick to wipe it away, but it wasn’t much use as tears silently flowed down your face. The exhaustion, the pain, the uncertainty, it was all getting to you and you just needed James’ permission to let it out. 

James came to sit on the side of your bed from his chair, leaning down and kissing away your tears. Eventually when the tears slowed he kissed your nose before gently playfully biting the tip of it, getting you to look up at him and his ridiculous idea of fun. 

“You look like a rabbit,” you sniffed. 

“Shoot, I was going for a squirrel,” he snapped his finger and you chuckled. “What do you say I do it again and see if I can get it right?” 

“Jamie,” you smiled and placed a hand on his arm, the other wiping the tears from your face. “I love you.” 

“I love you too, always.” 

—

You were grateful for the knock at your sliding door which pulled you away from the hospital food sitting on the tray in front of you. When you looked up you saw one of House’s diagnosticians, Eric Foreman motioning to ask if it was okay for him to come inside. 

You nodded your head and told him to open the door. 

“Hey,” he smiled while entering the room. “I know Wilson is out of town so I figured maybe you could use a little bit of company.” 

“Usually I can survive without him, I think he’s probably worse off, at least I have nice company,” you motioned to the machines monitoring your heart rate and respiration. 

He laughed a little at that before pulling up a chair and sitting next to your bed. 

“He mentioned you don’t really like the food, so I snuck in a little something from outside,” he handed you a wrapped parcel. “Hopefully you find it up to standard.” 

“Thanks, that’s really sweet of you. I was having a hard time imagining how I’m supposed to eat this,” you pointed to the plate in front of you. 

You unwrapped the package and began to eat, in small controlled bites not wanting to aggravate any dormant nausea. 

“So how are you?” Foreman asked. “I mean aside from all this.” 

“Honestly not too bad. I get to see my husband a lot, I have people waiting on me hand and foot, it’s a decent gig being in bed,” you joked. “Although I am exhausted all of the time and find little enjoyment in watching soap operas on such a tiny screen so, really it's a toss up.” 

“Anything we can bring you from home or outside to help?” 

“If I think of anything I’ll let you know,” you nodded. “But company is nice when I have the energy for it. You’re lucky you caught me right after a nap.” 

“I’ll get Cameron and Chase to stop by at some point too. I could also ask House, but he’s not going to listen to me,” he pressed his lips together and you chuckled. 

“No, he marches to the beat of his own drum,” you agreed, “but he’ll come by every once in a while. I can;t decide if his visits are fun, depressing, or maybe it’s just an emotional rollercoaster.” 

“I think his patients would agree with you,” Foreman leaned back in his chair. 

“Speaking of patients, any interesting cases recently you can tell me about?” you asked. 

“Hmm, there was that one a while ago where there was this whole complication with a transplant and organ donation. The transplant committee wouldn’t give the guy a heart because he was in his sixties, and then the procurement team wanted to throw out a heart because it tested positive for Hep. C. Turns out, after House managed to convince the husband to still let his wife’s organs be used, it wasn’t Hep. C. and we were able to treat it and do the transplant.” 

“So you had to diagnose a dead woman in order to save a man’s life?” you asked and Foreman nodded. 

“Definitely one of our more interesting cases.”

There was a comfortable pause where you ate a little more food before coming up with another question to ask. 

“Tell me,” you started. “How’s Jamie when he’s working? I know you don’t work with him directly, but he’s always with House so your paths must intersect a bit.” 

“He’s…” Foreman tried to find the words to describe your husband’s demeanour. “Some days are good and others aren’t, but no one blames him for it.” 

“I figured as much,” you sighed. “Don’t tell him I said this, but if something goes wrong, and something happens to me, I don’t want to leave him like that. We’ve both had really bad luck when it comes to love and I just… I don’t think either one of us would recover from losing the other.”

“It’s really sweet that you think that, but you’re not going to have to find out,” Foreman assured you. “You’re gonna live long enough to get to the point in your relationship where you can read his mind. Telepathy comes after the 20th anniversary, right?” 

You laughed, “Yeah I think so.” 

“Seriously though, even in the off chance that something does happen, Wilson is well-liked here, hell he’s loved. There’s more than a few people that will look after him.”

“Thanks, Foreman. And I sure as hell hope you’re right.” 

—

“God, I missed it here,” you smiled as you walked into your home for the first time since you had begun your intensive treatment. “And it’s clean!” 

“Because I’m never here, there’s probably moldy food in the fridge and dust everywhere,” James chuckled, holding you from behind and pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

“So how long do I get to stay here?” you asked. 

“A few days as long as nothing happens and I asked for some time off so I will be here with you for all of it.” 

“Good, because I need your cooking skills. I think the hospital food was taking the nutrients away from my body,” you exaggerated, taking off your shoes and sitting on the couch. 

“I think that’s probably the chemo,” James corrected you and you shook your head. 

“No, it was definitely the food.” 

“Then let’s get something to eat,” he suggested and put his hand out for you to take. You did and walked to the kitchen together, noticing all the bags of groceries on the floor and counter. 

“I thought you said the food was moldy?” 

“The food in the fridge definitely is,” he assured you. “I just thought it might be a good idea to get something edible for you.” 

“You’re very considerate,” you gave him a quick kiss. 

He made you a quick snack to start and you ate together by the counter before you went to your room and laid down on the bed. 

“Jamie you’re gonna have to drag me away from here when we go back,” you moaned into the pillow. “It’s the little things, really,” you sighed. 

“I’m glad you’re comfortable,” he sat down on his side of the bed, looking down at you. “I hated sleeping here without you.” 

“You clearly didn’t do it often because from what I could remember you only slept at home when I begged you to. That’s why the dark circles under your eyes are just as big as mine,” you lifted your hand to brush against his cheekbone. 

“Hopefully we’ll both get a good sleep tonight.” 

It was wishful thinking. After dinner, you watched a movie together in the living room before calling it an early night and getting ready to go to bed. 

For the first few hours, you were both asleep, James with his arm wrapped around your midsection as he spooned you, but sometime around two or three o’clock in the morning James was awoken by your figure shaking next to him. 

He quickly became fully awake and turned on the bedside lamp seeing you still curled up on your side, sweat dripping from your brow while you convulsed. 

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath and grabbed a thermometer, gently waking you and checking your temperature. 

“Jamie, w-what’s going o-on?” 

He didn’t say anything initially, looking at the thermometer and realizing he had to call the ambulance. 

“You have a really bad fever,” he said while running over to the desk and grabbing the phone. “We need to go back to the hospital, right now.”  

He called 911 and quickly explained the situation to them, packing a bag while he did so. He stayed on the line with them while helping you get up and move to the living room. Soon after the ambulance arrived and he was able to hang up and open the door for the paramedics. 

“What’s going on, sir?” one of the paramedics asked. 

“It-It’s my wife, she has cancer a-and she’s got a neutropenic fever, it’s above 100.4. I’m a doctor, and her oncologist is at Princeton-Plainsboro. If you put her on IV antibiotics we can take her there.” 

The paramedics listened, putting you on the gurney and rushing you out of the house. James slung the bag over his shoulder and jumped in the back of the ambulance with you. He let the paramedics do their job, simply holding on tightly to your hand. 

When you arrived at the hospital, they wheeled you away to the ER. He knew they would have to see if an infection caused the fever and get you stable and bring down the fever. 

He took a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose before heading up to his office to drop off the bag and call your oncologist. 

“Hey, Ted… Yeah we just got here… I just woke up and she was shaking like crazy. I-I thought it might have been a seizure at first, but she woke up when I touched her and I checked her temperature…Yeah, I did all that,” he nodded. “I’m sorry it’s so late I just-,” he bit down on his tongue to stop his voice from wavering. “Okay, thanks Ted, I’ll see you soon.” 

He hung up the phone and bent down over his desk, finally letting his emotions overcome him. 

He hated the way his shoulders trembled and shook so violently, only reminding him of you fighting off your fever down in the emergency room. There had only been a few occasions where James had felt like breaking down over the course of your treatment. This was the only time he allowed it to actually happen. 

His own weight soon became too much to hold and he let himself sink down to the ground, his back against his desk. He sat with his knees almost pressed against his chest and his hands covering his face to stifle the sobs that were escaping past his lips. 

James wasn’t sure how long he sat there, but by the end of it his eyes were red and puffy and all of the energy was drained from his face. In any other circumstance, had he been feeling even a little bit upset or sad, he knew you would always be there to comfort him, to hold him and talk through things, and he felt dejected knowing right now you needed him as much as he needed you and all he could do was sit on the sidelines and hold you hand. Four years of undergrad, four years of medical school, another four for residency and all this specialized knowledge on a disease, and yet he wasn’t even able to put it to much use for the person he loved most. 

It took him a little while longer to feel well enough to walk out of his office towards the washrooms to rinse his face with cold water, simultaneously waking him up and reducing the appearance of his puffy eyes. 

He then decided to go find out where they had moved you to and what things were looking like now. He assumed the fever was hopefully under control by this point and they could figure out if an infection had caused it. 

He ran into Ted who was speaking to a nurse, still dressed in casual clothes and without a white coat. James didn’t blame him; it was much too early to be awake. 

Ted excused himself from his conversation and went to go speak with James. 

“She’s stable,” he said, and the tension in James’ shoulders vanished. “It’s looking like it’s just the cancer that caused it, nothing else we have to treat on top of it. Being away from the IV and other things that were helping her body fight off the fever, it was only a matter of time before it kicked in.” 

“And-And um… what’s the course of treatment?” James asked, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“She’s most likely going to have to stay at the hospital until the cancer is gone. We did some recent scans and I think some of the tumor can be removed surgically, it won’t be too high risk when she’s recovered and then the chemo and radiation will have smaller things to target.” 

James ran a hand across his face and nodded, 

“Can I see her?” 

“I had her moved back to her room on the oncology floor and I got the nurses to put in a cot for you. Just maybe wait until the fever’s gone to share the bed with her,” Ted patted his shoulder as he walked away and James patted his hand in return as a thank you. 

When he went back upstairs to your room, he saw you were sound asleep, having probably been minorly sedated so you could get some rest. He pulled the cot next to the hospital bed and thankful he was already in his pyjamas, he slipped under the blanket and let the exhaustion overtake him.

—

“Jamie, you’re frowning again,” you ran your thumb over the crease between his eyebrows, smoothing it out. 

He held your hand along the side of his face, even though it was tight and a little cramped he loved sharing the hospital bed with you. 

“Maybe, I’m just grumpy. Can I be grumpy?” 

“Sure, but just don’t frown,” you yawned. “Your smile is too pretty and if you frown you’ll get wrinkles.” 

“But, if I smile I’ll get smile lines,” he countered, turning his head to kiss your hand. 

“At least we’d know you were happy. Anyone can get wrinkles, you have to smile to get smile lines,” you traced along his nose and down to his lips. 

“But I’m not happy,” James whispered. “That would be a lie.” 

“You’re not happy?” you looked at him with concern. 

“I promise I’m trying, really hard,” he clasped your hand between his warmer ones, “but seeing you like this every single day makes it really difficult to be happy.” 

You chewed on your cheek, “Guess this has been torture for both of us, watching each other fall apart.” 

“Yeah,” James sighed and looked down at the white sheets. 

“You don’t…You don’t regret marrying me… do you?” you said, your voice below a whisper. 

“No,” he responded quickly, pulling you in closer to him. “Not at all.” 

“The truth, James,” you insisted. “You don’t have to protect my feelings.” 

“That is the truth.” 

You didn’t say anything for a few moments trying to stay in the silence, worried of what would come up if you said anything more. 

“You regret it, don’t you?” he frowned softly, but instead of pulling away he squeezed you harder. You gripped onto his sweater, fighting the emotion in your voice,

“I hate how much I’m hurting you.” 

“You can’t control what’s happening,” he pressed a kiss to your temple. 

“But if you hadn’t met me, if we hadn’t fallen in love-,” 

“I would be just as miserable, but for different reasons,” he lifted your chin to look up at him, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “I know you don’t regret loving me and I sure as hell don’t regret loving you.” 

“Then why do you have that look in your eyes every time you see me? Like you can barely look at me.”

James swallowed thickly, the look wasn’t one in absence of love, if anything it was fuelled by that. 

Guilt. 

“I-,” he stopped and took a deep breath. “I should have caught it sooner. You were symptomatic a while before we got you tested for anything and I should have caught it.”

“And if you had caught it earlier we wouldn’t be here right now.” 

“You would have been done with your chemo and radiation by this point, we’d be at home putting all of this behind us, but now even if it goes away…” 

“You’re never going to be able to forget the fact that it could come back.” 

James didn’t even realize he’d begun to cry until you wiped away the tears from under his eyes with your thumbs, gently stroking his cheeks. 

“I don’t think anything I say can help you with what you’re feeling, but not once did I blame you… and I hope you can be kind enough to yourself to come to that same conclusion.” 

“I’m so sorry,” he wept, shaking his head. “I-I didn’t mean to m-make you feel like-,” 

“Jamie, it doesn’t matter anymore,” you placed your forehead against his. “One of the qualities I love most about you is your compassion, your forgiveness, just promise me you’ll try your best to extend the same courtesy to yourself.” 

He nodded his head, his nose pressed against yours and the pillow below you wet with tears on both ends. 

“I love you so much,” he whispered. 

“I love you too.” 

And in the end that’s what you kept coming back to. 

In sickness or in health. 

‘Til death do us part.

@marij0oo

[ghostlygeto]

wish u were here | james wilson

pairing: james wilson x reader

warnings: you just gotta hear me out guys. whats it called when it isnt technically cheating but it feels like cheating (from both parties, not on each other), entirely self indulgent and selfship coded, wilson calls reader "birdie" (cringe idc), angst. based loosely on lips of an angel by hinder and glimpse of us by joji, thats all for now plz forgive me

word count: 1.4k

wilson rubbed his eyes, trying to wipe the sleep from them as he heard his phone vibrating on the nightstand next to him. the name lighting up his screen was yours, causing him to hurriedly grab his phone and press answer.

“hello?” his voice was tired, still laced with the deep sleep he was pulled from for this phone call. “y/n, you know it’s almost three in the morning, right?” wilson slowly removed the covers from his legs, trying his best not to wake his fiance sleeping next to him.

“james,” the soft exhale of his name made his heart ache. how long had it been since you last spoke? “sorry, i know it’s late. it’s probably stupid to call you i just…” the small sob caught him off guard.

“are you crying?” wilson closed the bathroom door, still keeping his voice down just in case. “is everything okay?”

there was a hesitation on the other end of the phone and he could feel it. you were trying to find a way around telling him the truth. “birdie, you know you can trust me.”

birdie. that godawful, stupid nickname you used to hate. you used to roll your eyes every time he’d use it to get your attention, or let it slip in conversation with your friends and coworkers. but now it just made another cry escape your lips. you missed it, you missed him.

“just miss you,” you whispered, trying to keep your voice down as well. “we’ve been fighting a lot lately. and you were in my dream last night- it just felt right to call you.”

wilson sighed. he was relieved to hear that you were okay, his heart rate steadying. though he couldn’t help the annoyed feeling that overtook him as you mentioned your current boyfriend. “i’m glad you’re safe, but you know you really shouldn’t have-”

“can we save the lecture for another time, james?” you let out a shaky laugh. you don’t know what else you expected from him, “i just wanted to hear your voice.”

his free hand ran over his face, trying to rationalize it in his head. it would be okay if he spoke to you, right? just speaking on the phone isn’t wrong, and it wouldn’t hurt anyone. right?

“i can stay on for a little bit. but not too long, if she were to find out i’m on the phone with you it’ll just cause a fight.” wilson sat on the cool tile of his bathroom floor, back against the door. his eyes closed as he listened to the sound of your voice through the phone. “do you need to talk about the fights?”

“it hasn’t been anything serious. it just seems like he’s always angry, i can never win with him.” you sigh, “maybe i’m just too busy comparing him to you all the time. i know i shouldn’t. but it’s hard not to.”

wilson wanted to provide you some sort of comfort, let you know that he often did the same with his fiance. “have you still been going to therapy?”

“yeah.” you answer quickly, remembering how he urged you to talk to someone after you two split, because it would be good for you. “she doesn’t know much about my current partner, though. i don’t like to talk about him.” i don’t love him. you wanted to say, but bit your tongue. you weren’t sure if that would help or hurt anything. probably hurt, if you had to guess.

“if you don’t tell her how is she supposed to help you?” you hadn’t changed a bit, and that made his heart ache. you were the exact same version of yourself that he was in love with. knowing that makes leaving you less justifiable, it makes getting over you harder. “you have to cooperate with her.”

“can you tell me about how you’ve been?” you asked, a sniffle following. “is she nice to you?” you didn’t want to talk about yourself, not really. especially not about what you have or haven’t been talking about in therapy. 

right, the two of you hadn’t spoken since breaking up. despite working at the same hospital, the two of you managed very easily to avoid each other. afterall, the morgue and the oncology department weren’t exactly wall neighbors.

“yeah, yeah she is nice to me.” wilson nodded, a small smile finding its way to his face. he loves his fiance, she’s an amazing woman. she surprises him and makes him dinner, likes watching his favorite shows with him. but… “but she isn’t you.”

you weren’t aware that four words could change your mood so quickly, feeling your stomach fill with warmth and you heart beat quickened. it was nice, in a fucked up way, to know that he missed you as much as you missed him.

“it’s frustrating,” wilson added, “seems like everytime we’re having a good moment i just think of you. wondering to myself if i would be enjoying it more if it were you.” it felt nice to say out loud, like it was a secret he had been keeping for a long time (it was). “sometimes i think she knows.”

“sometimes he does things you used to do and i swear it’s like i can see you standing there instead of him.” you confess, tears still falling down your face despite the smile. “i’m glad she treats you well. it’s what you deserve.”

what he deserves is a death sentence. he internally scolded himself, knowing that he shouldn’t be doing this. he shouldn’t be on the phone with you after not speaking for a year and a half. he was supposed to be getting married this time next year. yet here he was, sitting on his bathroom floor and talking with you, his ex on the phone at half past three in the morning.

“you deserve someone who is going to make you happy, too, y/n.” wilson swallowed harshly. why did he so badly want to be the one to make you happy? why did he feel so bothered over the thought of it being someone that isn’t him? “you should just…just dump that asshole. you know you could do better.”

you wanted to laugh. he was right, of course you could do better. “honestly when i break up with him i think it’ll be my last for awhile. i’m…tired of putting effort into people who don’t do the same.”

he wasn’t sure how many people you had seen since he broke things off with you, he had intentionally avoided that information from house because he didn’t want to know. it didn’t matter if it had been only one or several, he knew he’d hate it either way. “you can’t think like that. then you’ll never find anyone.” encouraging you to find someone else. that was the right thing to be doing here. encouraging you to seek comfort in someone that wasn’t him, or your piece of shit boyfriend. “you’ve always been so pessimistic, just try to look on the bright side of things for once, yeah?”

“you answering the phone is the only bright side i think i’ve had for awhile,” you confess with a laugh and another sniffle. you weren’t sure when you stopped crying but you were thankful you had, already feeling the headache it would bring on. “do you think we can ever be friends again?”

wilson stiffened. yes. he wanted to tell you. but he wasn’t sure that was the right answer. “i don’t know, y/n. there’s a lot that would have to happen for us to be able to be friends again.” i’d have to get over you. 

“i knew that’s what you were going to say,” you gave a lighthearted chuckle. “i should…get off of here now. it’s late. we work in the morning. goodnight, james. it was nice talking to you.”

“you, too, y/n. goodnight.” wilson listened to the call disconnect as he let his phone clatter to the ground. it had been so long, he had been doing so well not thinking of you until tonight. all it took was one little phone call for you to worm your way back into his heart.

or rather, it only took one phone call for him to remember why he never should have let you go to begin with.

i rly am amazed that im posting this in 2023 but he is literally the love of my life right now. comments, reblogs, and likes appreciated!

[birdiedoesdc]

my fics

batfam:

the misfortune of knowing anything: gen, 3.8k

Jason has dragged Tim Drake into his attempt to run away. Batman wants it to be known that he does not eat children. This is what you get for hoarding orphans, Bruce.

my shoulders are heavy already: teen, 9k

Damian is not sick. Dick is not having a crisis. Also, freezer pops.

exponential childhood acquisition: gen, 2.7k

An average morning in the life of Bruce Wayne, single father to approximately six children.

what right had you not to let me die?: teen, 3.8k

Jason Todd is about to find out why hundred and four degree fevers are, generally, considered detrimental to one's well-being. Tim Drake is about to commit crimes against Top Ramen and humanity. Bruce Wayne is about to fret. What else do you expect?

a hundred different ways to say the same thing: teen, 2k

Dick and Jason are very normal people with a very normal sibling-ish relationship.

whole package, babe, i like the way you fit: teen, 3.9k

Officer Tomás Martinez is beset upon by precocious, acrobatic children. Featuring child endangerment, celebrity crushes, and candy.

just a boy who had to sing this song: teen, 4.8k

Dick Grayson, in the week after his parents' murder.

i know it's over, still i cling: teen, 1.8k

Jason Todd, in the immediate aftermath of Under the Red Hood.

yarn over, pull through: teen, 11.4k

Jason Todd learns how to crochet. It turns out that having healthy emotional outlets improves your mental health and your relationships with others--like, say, a certain set of Bats.

love me like a child, hold me in the dark: gen, 3.9k

Steph gets thrust back in time, deals with some closet monsters, and has some pretty major emotional revelations.

blood is thick, but water is forever: gen, 3.1k

Jason, Dick, and Tim learn about communication.

won't stop til i get where you are: t, 3.3k

Roy Harper decides he will not be broken up with so easily. Especially by a guy he was never technically dating. Jason Todd takes it very well.

it takes guts to be gentle and kind: g, 1.9k

Dolores Patton gets some help with her groceries.

superman:

since you looked at me different: gen, 1.7k

Jon gets engaged like this.

it’s all relative fiction anyway: gen, 7.8k

Lois thinks Batman is Bruce Wayne. Jimmy thinks Batman is a vampire. Clark thinks it would be really nice if they could go to one gala without something terrible happening. (Also, Bruce Wayne is a menace.)

if you don’t remember, i will try to remind you: gen, 1k

Clark Kent gets a goddamn break.

hr form a113: teen, 2k

Slade Wilson terrorizes the employees of Lex Corp. Lex Luthor is no help. The new head of HR is at the end of their wits.

[mgparker]

recruitment gone… right?

platonic!steven grant/marc spector x teenage!reader

summary: who in their right mind sends a teenager to recruit a dangerous vigilante all on their own? oh sam and fucking bucky.

warnings: teenage avenger reader, inaccuracies, clueless steven being an overall mess and a huge cap fan, violence, swearing, gen z shit? perhaps idk, 2k word count

request: ‘can you do a father figure Marc Spector/Steven Grant x A teenage avenger who was sent to recruit him? I imagine the reader being a typical Gen Z kid with a sarcastic sense of humor, but meaning well.’

notes: loosely based off this request i got MONTHS ago. i’m so sorry it’s taken forever this has literally been in my drafts for a year. not a whole lot of father figure-ing going on but i think it’s a funny little neutral recruitment blurb/one-shot. enjoy. also not sure if this is gen-z enough but i was not going to make this obnoxiously “relatable”

“It shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Sam, I want you to think about what you just said. Then think about who you’re talking to. And then… consider the possibility that your plan might actually work if you send Barnes.”

A distant voice shouted through the speaker of your phone. “No can do, kid. Recruitment is below my paygrade now!”

You rolled your eyes, shuffling down a busy sidewalk in the midst of London. “Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot I’m talking to the big champs now.”

You heard Sam chuckle in amusement, and you could imagine him shaking his head at your words. “You know what you gotta do. The sooner you get it done, the sooner you can get back to base. Kick some ass with the big champs.”

“Yeah, yeah,” it was time to get serious. “Got it, Wilson. I’ll check in later.”

Instead, it was Bucky who answered. “You’ve got this, squirt!” 

Rolling your eyes, you didn’t even give Sam a chance to get a word in before you were ending the call, stuffing your phone into your pocket and narrowing in on the bus stop ahead. 

This is stupid, you thought as you waited a safe distance away. You couldn’t risk your target spotting you before you could properly assess them. Who in their right mind sends a teenager—a freaking teenager—to recruit one of England’s most dangerous vigilantes?

You’re not scared—you were far more than capable to defend yourself, even against the famed Moon Knight—but it feels out of your way, something you’ve never been asked to do. But of course, as an Avenger, this was your duty.

You couldn’t help but think of this whole thing as a personal attack. With Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson assuming the mantle of interim leaders of the Avengers (or rather what remains of them), this whole mission seemed like their version of a practical joke. 

Those two loved you with all their heart, you didn’t doubt it, but they take the role of “fun uncles” a bit too seriously. 

But anyway, this recruitment... This isn’t fun. Not in the slightest.

This is like being a salesperson. 

Shudder. 

Finally, you catch sight of your target—Steven Grant, an extremely sleepy, stumbling gift-shoppist who had appeared at the bus stop surprisingly early for once.

He seems gentle enough, guard mostly down, clutching his bag with a paranoid grip but that was the only thing tense about him. He’s technically older than you, not ridiculously so, but a bit younger than Sam.

You watch as his lips start forming some words; it’s subtle, nothing anyone would really notice unless they were analyzing him piece by piece like you currently were.

Ah. You realized with a pleased smile. Steven Grant and Marc Spector are working together. 

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by the sound of the bus arriving, squeaking loudly as it stopped in the street. 

Showtime. 

There was a click in your brain, or that’s what it felt like at least, and a quick scanning of your surroundings made it easy to instantly blend in. 

Steven Grant was having a decent morning. He actually woke up in time, ate a decent breakfast, and rushed out of the house with ten minutes to spare. 

Even Marc had been pleasant this morning, making unusual small talk as Steven went about his business, getting ready for work. 

And everything was well. Up until now—as he stood in the bus, trying to keep himself from falling asleep on the passengers around him, despite the extra shot of espresso he’d slipped into his drink this morning. 

Steven. 

He jolted awake, pulling his head away from a man’s shoulder with a small ‘sorry!’

But before he could doze off once more, something odd came over him. A strange tingling feeling, as if he was being watched. 

It snapped the drowsiness right out of his system, eyeing everyone suspiciously. 

You feel it too, don’t you? Something isn’t right. 

“What—” He mumbled quietly, searching for the source but coming up emptyhanded.

There was nothing peculiar or odd about his fellow commuters. 

So, he continued about his day, feeling that unsettling eye on him at all times but unaware as to its source. 

It was only when his shift was over, that he was walking home, that he decided this charade had gone on for far too long. 

Despite Marc’s pleas to let him front, Steven stopped in his dead tracks, away from any curious eyes. 

“Oi, who’s there?”

Great job, Steven. If that isn’t the most cliché thing to say before the main character gets killed in a horror movie. Marc sighed. 

“Shut up,” hissed Steven quietly. “You know I don’t watch horror movies—”

Steven blinked and suddenly you’re there, standing in front of him as if you’d been there the entire time. 

“AH!” 

The scream echoed down the alley, high-pitched and nearly startling you into a similar yelp. 

But you were quite used to your presence spooking others, it’s a part of your abilities that you’d never been able to control. 

Chest heaving and cheeks tinted with embarrassment, Steven gave you a suspicious glare. 

“Oh, it’s—it’s just a kid,” he tried to brush off his embarrassing reaction. 

You scoffed, a bruise to your ego. “Not just a kid.”

“Well, I know what I’m seeing,” Steven argued. “And you look like a child—“

“Firstly,” you’re staring at Mr. Knight’s suit, taken aback by the change in his appearance that you’d apparently triggered by startling him so bad. “I’m seventeen. Second, I thought you had a whole—“

You aimlessly motioned around your head in a sort of halo way, confusing the ever fuck out of Steven who just stood there blankly.

“A whole w-what?” He gaped, desperate to know what you— a complete stranger — had to say about his kickass suit.

“You know, a whole cape thing goin’ on.”

Ha! Colonel Sanders.

Steven wished there was a way to punch Marc.

“Now, you’re just talking about my lesser counterpart,” Steven shrugged, trying to hide the fact that he had just been offended to the core.

“Ouch, hard feelings?”

Steven pulled his lips to the side. “You could say that— wait. How do you know about—?”

“Let’s cut to the chase,” you interrupted. “I was sent here on behalf of an organization that is really interested in having you join our ranks. Normally, they’d send someone else but you’re stuck with me so—“

“What organization? What ranks? You’re hiring?” I guess we’re both interrupting each other now. You fought the urge to roll your eyes. Even if the task was annoying, you wouldn’t be returning to base with a new recruit if you hit him with a bunch of attitude.

Patience was not your strongest virtue. “Not exactly. As soon as you put that blade down, maybe we can talk some more.”

Steven looked down with a jolt, as if he hadn’t realized he’d been white-knuckling the weapon since you appeared.

Slowly, he started to store the blade before Marc cut in hastily. Hello? Are you seriously letting a kid tell you what to do? A kid who appeared out of thin air?

Steven caught Marc’s glare in the reflection of a small puddle, the road damp from London’s regular showers. He looked much more menacing than Steven, even with his half-assed suit. 

He hadn’t said it yet, but Steven knew Marc was aching to take over. And it was probably the smartest option- Steven wasn’t the best at confrontation. 

“Don’t hurt a minor please,” he pleaded quietly. Marc narrowed his eyes at the notion. But he nodded his head dismissively.

With a sigh, Steven allowed Marc to front.

All the while, you minded your own business as well as you could, staring at the sky suspiciously. You wouldn’t be surprised if Sam had sent Redwing to spy on you. Not because he didn’t trust you of course, but because him and Bucky loved to get a laugh in whenever they could. 

“Alright, let’s cut the bullshit. Who sent you? Harrow?” 

You nearly gave yourself whiplash from how fast your head snapped forward. 

The suit was different, cape billowing behind him, and eyes even whiter than before. They seemed to glow-- no, they were glowing-- and glare into the depths of your soul. You were almost intimidated.

“Who the hell is Harrow? Absolutely not. Since you asked so nicely, I was sent on behalf of Captain America.”

Captain America? He gripped the crescent blade tighter. 

He considered your words carefully, staring at you with the utmost suspicion. Lip curling up, head already starting to shake in disapproval, annoyance consuming him altogether— 

“That’s bullshit.”

“That’s- that’s amazing!”

You couldn’t help the smirk on your face. “It is pretty cool,” you shrugged thirty minutes later, chewing through a particularly large bite of your warm bagel. You were sat in the corner of a small, dingy bakery. What it lacked in aesthetics, the bakery definitely made up for in flavor.

“Do you think you could maybe, like I dunno, introduce us?” Steven asked with an excitement that barely kept him still in his seat.

You’re surprised he hasn’t gathered the attention of everyone else in the bakery, but for once, you’re not the one worried about being on the opposite end of a judgmental eye.

Being an Avenger in these post-Blip days isn’t as easy as it was before… stack that on top of being a ‘child’ and it’s the perfect recipe for disaster.

‘They’re too young!’

‘They can barely contain their abilities!’

‘The Avengers already ruined our lives before! Why should we trust a child?!’

Even if you denied it a million times, there was always a small part of you that craved their approval. Their vote of trust…Maybe this mission would help with that, once they learned that it was you who got the infamous bad-guy-turned-good Moon Knight to join the world’s mightiest superheroes…

Well, maybe it wasn’t exactly you who got Steven to willingly agree. But there was absolutely no way in hell you were ever telling Sam that it was his pull that got the deal sealed.

“Sure,” you smiled back at Steven who just about died at your response. The coffee in his mug jostled out and splashed onto the table. “Big Captain America fan?”

“As of late,” Steven grinned. “So, when do we leave? Is—” He gasped suddenly and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Is Captain America coming to pick me up?”

Jesus Christ. Marc groaned. This was a fucking mistake. 

Steven ignored him and looked at you expectantly.

You glanced up from your phone where you’d been rapidly typing something up. You did a double-take as you processed his question.

“Absolutely,” you deadpanned. “He’ll send a car for you. Probably meet you at the airport with his private jet.”

Steven’s eyes grew wider with every word. Marc was scowling in the reflection of the window behind you.

“Bollocks...” he breathed, staring down at his lap in disbelief. 

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“I don’t even know what to say. I mean, who—who would’ve thought they would send a seventeen-year-old to recruit little ole me—”

You saw something click in his brain. He looked up with glazed over irritation. “...you’re... you’re not being serious.”

“Of course, I’m not being serious, Grant. I got here alone and I’m more than capable of getting us back to base. You can save the fangirling for when we finally touch down alright? He’ll meet us there.”

Steven pursed his lips at you. 

Rolling your eyes, you finished your text and locked your phone with a click. “I’m being serious this time.”

Excitement poured into his gaze again. You’re not sure how Marc feels about it, only that after explaining yourself in very, very specific detail, he was open to the discussion. But it must be a mutual decision at this point. You doubt Steven would’ve gotten this far if his counterpart was fighting against it.

“Marc is on board?”

“Absolutely.”

Don’t lie. I’m regretting this more and more each second.

Steven continued. “Should I... should I pack my bags?”

“Yeah, that’d be a good idea,” you agreed nonchalantly.

“... now?”

You tapped your phone and glanced at the time. “If you want to make our flight in less than an hour, I’d say so.”

“Bollocks!” Steven exclaimed, nearly knocking the table over on his mad dash out the door. 

You snickered as he slammed into a lady on his way out. 

—————> the big champs + bucky

you: i’m expecting a promotion when i get back. and for you two to get off my ass already 

redwing’s bitch: I told you it wasn’t going to be too hard. Proud of you, kid

you: 😐

you: thanks i guess... expect a meet and greet when we get there. he’s probably going to be up your ass. steven’s your biggest fan. marc not so much.

you: and don’t worry bucky, they didn’t mention you at all <3

bucky bitchy barnes: fuck off. I have a fanbase. It’s on tweet.

you: wtf is tweet

bucky bitchy barnes: Don’t fuck with me you know what tweet is. 

you: my brother in christ... you mean to say twitter :,)

bucky bitchy barnes: I hate, no DETEST, your generation. 

ha ha

— elle <3

[erimeows]

Just A Prank

James Wilson finds himself flustered as he leans against the wall of the diagnostics conference room with two pairs of eyes piercing right through him; one dark blue and one dark brown. Chase sits on the edge of the large table while Foreman sits in House’s spinning chair. Cameron, who would usually put a stop to what is currently going on, is out sick with a stomach bug she caught from a patient, and House is… Well, House. It’s over half past noon but Wilson figures House will show up some time in the next hour

With the rare dynamic of just Chase, Foreman, and Wilson, odd things are bound to happen; such as Chase suggesting that Wilson randomly kiss House as some sort of… Prank. Were it anyone else being asked to do this, Wilson might encourage it. House isn’t used to any displays of affection these days, let alone used to being caught off guard by them, so someone walking up and kissing the guy without any warning would elicit a pretty good reaction. But Chase is insisting that he, James Wilson, be the one to do it- not Cameron or Foreman or Chase himself, because apparently, that would be wrong. No, it just has to be Wilson.

“And I have to be the one to do this because…?” 

“Kissing someone without their consent isn’t something that most people take kindly to,” Foreman points out.

“And you think he would take kindly to me doing it?” Wilson asks. “Also, I have to point out that it’s really not fair or correct to lump House into the category of ‘most people’.”

“I don’t think he’d ‘take kindly’ to it, per se, but you two already treat each other like that all the time,” Chase argues with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Weird pranks, crossing boundaries, doing things to each other that would normally be friendship ending… It’d just be a normal Tuesday for the two of you.”

“That… Is still totally inappropriate. I mean, romantic fraternization with other hospital employees. It’s technically against hospital policy. Everyone might’ve encouraged the date with Cameron, but that’s a little different than me just going up to the guy and kissing him,” Wilson continues, his face burning bright red.

On a normal day, he’s not so easy to read or so easy to embarrass, but he’s never been able to help it when it comes to House. The thought of kissing the man he’s been in love with since 1999 makes his head spin. He shouldn’t even entertain the thought, but with the ‘prank’ that Chase is suggesting, he does sort of have an excuse…

“What, like he’s gonna report you to Cuddy? If you don’t wanna do it, that’s fine, but at least make your excuse a believable one,” Foreman scoffs. “You know as well as we do that the man wouldn’t report someone to her unless they stole his Vicodin. Anything else is fair game to House.”

At that, Wilson stumbles over himself and nearly hits the floor. He doesn’t know what to say. With a sharp breath, he sits in the chair across from where Chase is on the tabletop and crosses his arms over his chest.

“That may be true, but-”

“And c’mon, it’ll be priceless!” Chase laughs with a mischievous grin. Part of Wilson wants to laugh along with him. The other half of him wants to reach across the conference room table and smack Chase in the head for coming up with something so stupid (and so tempting). “Don’t you want to see his face?”

“I can’t imagine how pissed he would be, so no, not really,” Wilson crosses his arms. He can feel his own gaze darting around the room, probably to avoid making eye contact with Foreman and Chase. “Where the hell did you two even get this idea?”

Wilson nervously paces the room, running his hands through his wavy brown hair. 

“It wasn’t my idea,” Foreman quickly spits out, dark brown eyes shooting to Chase, who offers a shrug in return.

“What can I say? I was thinking of more ways to screw with House and it was something that came to mind. I’d argue it’s one of my best ones yet.”

Wilson wants to do it. He’s been looking for an excuse to cross that line with House for years. He shouldn’t, because once he does it, there’s a chance he’ll never be able to go back. Better yet, there’s a chance Wilson will kiss House only for the older man not to give a shit anyways. That’s arguably the worst case scenario. Wilson knows that, if it were to happen, he wouldn’t be able to look House in the eye afterwards. Then, House would know. It would be a nightmare.

No matter how badly Wilson wants to grasp at this opportunity, he’s well aware it could backfire. He gathers what’s left of his willpower to refuse.

“No,” Wilson says, shaking his head.

He hopes that’ll be the end of it. Chase, however, remains persistent.

“Look, if Foreman and I aren’t enough to convince you, how about this? I’ll cover your clinic hours for a month.”

“I’m not House- I don’t mind working in the clinic and I’m caught up on my hours. It’s actually a nice reprieve from my day to day.”

With a sigh, Chase reaches into his wallet and pulls out two bills. He holds them out to Wilson. Foreman holds his head in his hands with an exasperated expression.

“...If covering your clinic hours isn’t enough to convince you, how about two hundred dollars?”

Wilson is an oncologist who makes hundreds of thousands of dollars a year. His debt from medical school is already paid off and he lives a comfortable life despite the three divorces and subsequent alimony payments he’s wracked up. Yet, with Chase so determined to convince him… No one can say he jumped at the opportunity to do this. House will probably just laugh it off- find it hilarious- love that someone was playing him at his own game by pulling a prank so inappropriate and controversial. It’ll be fine, and if it does go to shit, he can just pin the blame on Chase for coming up with the idea in the first place.

So, against his better judgment, Wilson agrees.

“Fine.”

He reaches out to take the money from Chase’s hand and shoves it into the front pocket of his white coat. 

“Where do you think he’s at, anyway? He’s usually late, but not this late,” Foreman stands and gestures to the clock on the wall. It’s already almost one in the afternoon. 

Knowing him, he’s probably in the cafeteria. He doesn’t have any cases today, so he showed up late to avoid clinic duty and made sure to time it so he wouldn’t get here until the start of his lunch break. He’s just using it to find out where Cuddy is so he can avoid her for the rest of his shift since she can’t make him work during his scheduled break,” Wilson explains. “If I were you guys, I wouldn’t count on seeing him much today.”

“Oh, I know we don’t have any cases, I didn't want to see him for work purposes. I’ve just gotta be there for the big moment,” Chase says while excitedly gathering his things so he can stand and head towards the door. “Well? What are we standing here for? Let’s go; to the cafeteria!”

“You know if he figures out you’re behind this, he’s going to have you covering his clinic hours and shining his shoes for the next year, right?” Foreman chuckles.

“Wait,” Wilson’s eyes flicker between Foreman and Chase, who are now standing by the door and peering back as if they’re waiting for him to join them. “You- you want me to go do this right now?”

“Yeah, duh,” Chase answers. “Now let’s go!”

Chase and Foreman both leave the conference room. Wilson, too stunned to respond, takes a moment to catch up and follow them to the cafeteria. When they arrive, it’s easy to spot House. The man is six foot two and gorgeous, so Wilson manages to pick him out of the crowd in seconds. 

House walks by himself in the middle of the cafeteria with a tray of food lazily held in one hand and his cane in the other. His narrow shoulders are adorned with one of the many t-shirts he’s stolen from Wilson and his favorite leather jacket. Wilson’s heart skips a beat when House smiles. The man is probably thinking about some interaction he’s had today where he’s fucked with someone- just for the fun of it. Wilson hates that he’s so in love with that antagonistic side of House, hates that he’s head over heels for House despite years of the older man meddling in his personal life, pulling shitty pranks on him, teasing him, and generally screwing with him at each and every turn.

Maybe this prank isn’t such a good idea. But, as nervous as Wilson is, even he can admit that House deserves to be the one being messed with for once.

“Oh, do you see him?” Foreman says.

“I do,” Chase pipes up and nudges Wilson’s side with his elbow. “Well, what are you waiting for? That money wasn’t for nothing- go for it!”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. You owe me twice as much if he starts beating me with his cane for pulling this crap while we’re at work,” Wilson grumbles.

He breaks away from Chase and Foreman and goes up to House, who catches his eye and offers a smile. Wilson forces himself to smile back as House meets him in the middle of the cafeteria with his tray still in hand. 

“Hey, Wilson,” House greets, a twinkle in his icy blue eyes. Wilson swallows the lump in his throat and stares back at his friend, who shamelessly eyes him up and down. “What, cat got your tongue? Or did you swallow sandpaper? Seriously, the face you’re making right now makes you look like a constipated-!”

Before House can finish, Wilson goes for it. He places his hands on House’s shoulders, screws his eyes shut, and gently presses his lips into House’s. The other man’s mouth tastes like coffee and Vicodin. It’s a bitter and terrible combination, but it’s House, and Wilson realizes that this may be the only chance he gets to experience it. He commits it to memory, savors it, loves it as if it’s the man himself.

Wilson expects House to pull away. It doesn’t happen. 

Fine enough- he figures it’s out of shock, and that House will pull away in a few moments. Wilson is proven wrong when he hears House’s lunch tray clatter to the floor. Surely then, House should retract to pick up the mess. Again, it doesn’t happen. 

His cane falls right after the tray, and Wilson gets ready to move, but he finds himself frozen in place when House grips him by the collar and drags him in to deepen the kiss. He moves his mouth against Wilson’s, chapped lips consuming the oncologist’s softer ones. 

Wilson is snapped out of it when he hears gasps and whispers in the cafeteria. He jerks back so he can look up at House. There’s no mirror around, but if there were, Wilson is sure he would see that his face has paled with horror. He can’t so much as make eye contact with House.

And for a moment, House appears smug; shit-eating grin, raised eyebrows, and that familiar darkness that takes over his gaze when he feels like he’s won something. However, that smugness is quickly washed away when House scans Wilson’s face. 

“It-” Wilson stutters, unsure of how to explain what he was doing or why he was doing it. Unsure of how to react to House kissing him. Unsure of why House kissed him back at all, but especially unsure of why House kissed him back so fast. He barely manages to force out the breathless words his brain jumbles together in its panicked state. “It was just a prank. Chase, he- he thought it would be a good way to mess with you, paid me two hundred dollars. I’ll give you the money, if you want…?”

The initial disappointment that laced House’s expression just seconds before transitions into hardened anger; the kind of ice-cold rage that he so brilliantly displays whenever he feels like he’s been betrayed by someone he trusted. It makes sense. Even in his anxious state, Wilson is thinking rationally enough to know he deserves it and should’ve expected it. After all, House has never taken well to any form of embarrassment. 

Without saying so much as a word, House retrieves his cane and swiftly turns to exit the cafeteria, leaving Wilson to pick up the mess of his lunch tray while everyone else stares holes into him.

~

The next day, Wilson is an anxious mess. He went to House’s office multiple times after lunch yesterday and couldn’t find the man. He called and sent multiple texts, and each and every one was ignored whether it was to House’s office phone, flip phone, or pager. He hasn’t been able to find House in any of the clinic rooms, in the conference room that the diagnostics team uses, or in any of the staff offices including his own, but he knows House is there as the team is apparently working on a new case. House has just done a masterful job of avoiding him specifically.

Wilson quickly comes to the conclusion that House is angry; justifiably so. On top of being kissed in a group full of their patients and colleagues, Wilson also accidentally rejected him in front of said people by jerking away from House’s kiss as if it were the plague and loudly announcing that his initiating of the kiss was just a prank. It’s a miracle the man didn’t quit on the spot and move across the country following that kind of humiliation, because Wilson knows he would have if it were him.

Wilson feels awful about it. All he wants to do is get a hold of House so they can talk in person and clear up this misunderstanding. House put himself out there by kissing Wilson back, pretty much confessed his feelings as eloquently as he could without using actual words, and Wilson went and fucked it up with his panicked response. 

The brunette is sitting in his office stewing about the kiss; partially wishing he hadn’t done it in the first place, partially praying for it to happen again. He has a thousand things he should be doing instead; writing a speech for an upcoming conference, emailing patients, looking at lab results for said patients, scheduling consults. Sadly, all he can focus on is House and how badly he wants to find the diagnostician and confess his feelings before this situation can get any worse. 

Poor Cameron returned to work today and is clearly uncomfortable with the tension, Chase is amused by the whole thing to an annoying degree, and Foreman is so clearly fed up with all of them. Wilson wishes things would go back to normal- or at least not be like this any longer. It’s only been one day and he’s already exhausted by it.

He has a lunch tray sitting in front of him with a bag of chips and a scrambled egg bowl that he’s hardly picked at. In front of him also sits his laptop, which is opened to show his emai inbox. Before Wilson can start sifting through said emails, the glass door to his office is slammed open so hard he’s surprised it doesn’t shatter and break. He looks up to see House, who angrily hobbles in.

If the situation weren’t so tense, he’d find the whole thing comical; House’s evident anger, House’s childish avoidance of him, the fact that they kissed in the middle of the cafeteria.

“So, it was just a prank,” House says, his tone accusatory.

“Uh,” Wilson nods, takes a sip from his water bottle, and clears his throat. “Yeah. Why did you kiss me back?”

“Well,” House scoffs, eyes darting around the room. He stands in front of Wilson’s desk and impatiently taps his cane against the floor; something he does when he’s trying to come up with an excuse for something. As per usual when he’s been rejected or perceives a discussion as a conflict, he goes on the defensive. “Obviously, I was just playing into the bit. That’s all it was, right? A joke?”

“House, you don’t have to lie. The cat’s out of the bag for both of us now so it’s honestly kind of embarrassing for you to-”

“Now give me the chips on your tray,” House huffs and walks behind Wilson’s desk to stand right next to where he’s sitting. He snatches the chip bag off of the lunch tray in front of Wilson but remains standing so close that Wilson can smell the sandalwood laundry detergent he uses wafting off of his outfit. “I’ve got a case to work on, and this one isn’t a cancer patient, so it has nothing to do with you.”

“But I-” Wilson objects in hopes that House will listen to him enough for them to talk this through, only to quickly be interrupted.

“One more thing,” House pauses.

Wilson is optimistic that they’ll finally get to talk like he’s been wanting. Instead, House puts the chips down, grabs Wilson by the tie, and yanks him up for a kiss. Wilson barely has the time to register the taste of toothpaste and breath mints prior to House pulling away and taking the chip bag back from the desk.

“What the hell-”

“Oh, sorry about that! Try not to get your hopes up or anything,” House says in a mocking tone and feigns a pitying expression as he briskly heads towards the glass door with his cane in one hand and Wilson’s stolen chip bag in the other. “After all, it was just a prank.”

And then, House is gone.

Wilson slumps down into his office chair and lets out a long, heavy sigh. As tempting as it is, it’s best not to chase after House in the middle of the hospital- the jackass will embarrass him someway, somehow. His dark brown eyes land on his now half-empty lunch tray, and then on his open laptop.

“Fucking breath mints… He planned to catch me off guard by coming in here and pulling that, didn’t he? …God, I’ve got so much to do.”

~

Another day passes with no progress. Wilson was hoping the situation would smooth itself out naturally, but it seems as if House is still equally as pissed as he was the afternoon Wilson kissed him in the cafeteria, so he decides he’ll simply have to find House and sort it out himself. 

Wilson knows better than to try and do this honestly. House raged and ran out on him at the hospital the other day, and then avoided him and treated him like shit yesterday. Every call and every text from Wilson has been ignored while House’s team says he’s still responding to them as usual.

So, Wilson brings a box with him to House’s apartment complex. He knocks on House’s door, sets the box down, and quickly hides a few feet away to avoid being seen through House’s peephole. The moment House opens the door to retrieve the surprise ‘package’, Wilson approaches. House quickly scoffs and tries to retreat inside to shut the door, but before he can pull it all the way closed, Wilson blocks it with his foot.

“Nice trick, Jimmy. If I weren’t filled with such unbridled rage and disdain for you right now, I might be impressed. Did you forget you have a spare key?”

“Okay, House,” Wilson starts. He doesn’t bother acknowledging House’s quip about the spare key that was, in fact, forgotten on his keychain. “You’ve been avoiding me and I think we’re just a tad overdue for a nice, long talk about this.”

“What’s there to talk about? You kissed me and I kissed you back. You’re not stupid, Wilson,” House rolls his eyes. Realizing that Wilson isn’t going to give up, House swings the door open and stares down at him. Wilson shrinks into himself. While House’s face doesn’t betray his emotions, his hands certainly do. One of them is gripping the doorknob so hard that his knuckles are burning white, while the other is braced against the wall his cane is propped up on. He’s upset; angry, still. “You know how I feel now. There’s no need for an exchange of words.”

“W-Well, I-”

“I can’t even be mad at you, you know. That’s the worst part,” House rambles. Without any indication that he’s going to do so, he storms into his living room, leaving the door wide open. Wilson takes it as an invitation and slinks into the apartment where he shuts the door behind him and takes his shoes off at the entryway. House continues his rant and plops down onto his brown leather couch. “Going and kissing someone as a prank- if I would’ve been in your shoes with Chase telling me to do something like that, I would’ve done it to fuck with you without getting paid. I would’ve jumped at the idea, reveled in it, found it fucking hilarious!”

Wilson blinks, still standing awkwardly in the middle of House’s entryway. 

“Then why are you so mad?”

“Because I loved it! I stood there and made out with you like a teenager in the middle of the cafeteria,” House pauses, shakes his head, and pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and finger. “...And I loved it. You know I haven’t been able to solve the case we got yesterday morning because of you? Chase solved it before I did! All because I’ve been letting my brain rot by using it to replay that moment over and over again, thinking of what I could’ve done differently to save myself that kind of embarrassment. I kissed you back, only for the whole thing to be a fucked up joke. Do you know how that feels?”

“You’re saying all of this as if I didn’t also enjoy it,” Wilson spits. To his utter dismay and frustration, House’s icy blue eyes narrow in suspicion. The damn idiot doesn’t believe a word he’s saying; the kiss, the prank, it’s broken the trust that they so blindly had in each other before it happened. It’s turned their entire world upside down. “Seriously, House, you think I would’ve kissed you for enough money even if I really didn’t want to do it?”

“I don’t know what to think,” House whispers, low, almost as if he’s talking to himself. He crosses his arms over his chest and stares down at the ground. His cane is haphazardly dropped on the floor in front of his bare feet. “I never thought you’d kiss someone at your job like that, much less me, and yet…”

“I’d kiss you in front of just about anyone if you’d let me. Maybe I just like you that much,” Wilson offers. He manages to muster up a smile along with the courage to look House in the eye again. As House stops to process what he’s just said, Wilson slowly walks over and sits next to him on the couch. “And… Maybe the prank was an excuse to kiss you, just to see what it’d be like. I never imagined you’d reciprocate. I panicked and didn’t know what to do because I was caught off guard. Before I did it, I mulled it over and came to the conclusion you’d find the whole thing hilariously disgusting, assume it was just for the money, and we’d never talk about it again. I guess I only got one of those things right.”

“Your deduction skills aren’t the best. They never have been,” House snarks. The anger seems to leave his body as he deeply inhales and exhales. His arms fall into his lap, and much to Wilson’s relief, he smiles back. “At first, I hoped it was a genuine gesture. It’s out of character for you to act out something so dramatic in public, but I’ve felt this way for such a long time that I got my hopes up, so when you panicked… Well, I’m sure you get it.”

“Yeah,” Wilson nods and reaches out to hold one of House’s hands. Surprisingly, it’s the first time they’ve done this, but House intertwines their fingers as if it’s natural for them. Wilson could get used to the warmth that comes from House’s calloused thumb gently stroking the back of his hand. “I think I do, but… It was wrong of me to agree to do that in the middle of the cafeteria for my own selfish reasons. I should’ve manned up and told you how I felt on my own instead of using that stupid prank Chase came up with as an excuse to kiss you and gauge your reaction.”

“I’m not going to deny that. Still, though, are we going to sit here and pretend like I didn’t deserve it to some extent? I know I’ve run you through the wringer for a long time, Wilson,” House laughs and leans back into the couch, eyes now trained on the ceiling above them. “I’m sure the sadistic part of you that you refuse to admit is there got some sort of satisfaction out of making me miserable for a day or two.”

“Not really,” Wilson chuckles. House is staring at him now. It looks like he wants something- maybe like he wants Wilson to say something specific- but Wilson isn’t sure what it is. “I wanted to shock you, maybe, not make you scorch-the-earth pissed for two days. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

“Well,” House smirks, icy blue eyes flickering to Wilson’s lips and then back up to meet the brunette’s gaze. “I do have one idea, but I’m afraid you may not be comfortable doing it without an audience; say, a cafeteria full of our patients and coworkers.”

Wilson scoffs and rolls his eyes, a fond smile taking over his face. He scoots closer to House and places his spare hand on the man’s thigh.

“Fortunately for you, I’m afraid you’re wrong- and yes, you are capable of being wrong.”

“Really? Then prove it.”

“Fine.”

With that, Wilson leans in and kisses House once again, the two men struggling not to grin against each other’s lips.

[spenglersweetheart]

Soooo…I don’t wanna seem like I’m taking up your time or nothing…but…hear me out..

Reader works with ghostbusters and one day while the other three are on call it’s just reader and Venkman. They are working on the mood slime doing different tests and such. Venkman comes in to do his usual annoying and flirting technique when the reader shows him a ring on their finger and grin

“Sorry toots I’m taken by Dr Egon Spengler”

Then they just continue with work while venkmans just confused like “hEs EnGaGeD”

no bc i actually don't mind you're actually helping with writing muse because lately it was dead so you're doing my brain a justice !! :)

─────────────── ✦ ───────────────

( note, i could not decide who to put for the gif so enjoy all three of them <3 )

Sorry, Venkman, I'm Taken

technically an x reader but love interest isn't in the story? lol idk what to make of this.

WARNINGS : none! just peter being annoying lol

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YOU WERE JUST TRYING TO WORK WITH THE MOOD SLIME. While the other three were on a call, you were stuck with Peter Venkman. Sometimes it was bearable. Other times? Well, let's just say he was a bit of a flirt. An annoying flirt. Sometimes you can handle it, sometimes you couldn't. It just depended on how you felt and how patient you were at the time.

This day. You were not so patient.

You were conducting different tests for the slime. He was supposed to be helping. But all he did was pretty much hover over you with his poor flirtatious tactics. You weren't trying to give in to that behavior, as you deemed it immature.

"You're pretty quiet today, toots. You're not your usual self," you hear him say.

Toots. It never fails to make your nose scrunch up in disgust. That nickname made you feel like absolute garbage. But you dealt with it, mainly because you had to work with him.

"That's because I'm concentrating. It's kind of hard when you're blabbering in my ear," you tell him as you look at the cassette tape that's on the pool table.

You're looking at the Farewell to Kings cassette tape that's sitting next to the Jackie Wilson one that Egon has used prior for the experiment. It makes you wonder how it would react to Prog rock instead of the rhythm and blues.

"I wonder what it'll do for this tape," you mutter to yourself, before grabbing it.

You walk over to the radio, Peter following you like the lost puppy that he acted like. You didn't like being so close. It was a thing for you. The only one who could get that close to you was Egon. And right now, you were missing that company.

"Guess we're feisty today, huh?" Peter asks.

"Only because you won't leave me alone," you mumble, "You're supposed to be helping me. You could be doing something useful."

"I am doing something useful."

You close the cassette radio. Turning the tune to Cinderella Man. You turn back around to face him. Your eyes narrow before you walk away. He still follows you around.

"And what exactly are you doing?" You question, crossing your arms, "Because the only thing you have been doing is following me around like a lost puppy."

"I'm observing the mood slime, thank you very much," Peter answered, "I'm observing its reaction to you!"

You rule your eyes. "Oh yeah? And how is it reacting?"

"Very, very positive, toots," he tells you.

He tries to get closer, but you put your hand up so that he doesn't. You happen to raise the hand that had a ring on your finger. You had enough of his flirty antics and advances, and it was about time he knew that you were taken by one of your own colleagues.

"Sorry, toots," you say, almost mockingly, "I'm taken, Venkman. By Dr. Egon Spengler."

His eyes widen in shock while a smirk of amusement crawls onto your lips. His reaction was priceless to you. You just wondered what he had to say about it.

"Wait," Peter says, "He's engaged? Before me? How did Spengs get engaged before me?"

You finally put your hand down. "I dunno. Maybe because he doesn't creepily flirt. He's just himself," you say. You give a smile before walking away. Leaving Peter to think about his life decisions.

"I can't believe this," he muttered, before walking in the opposite direction.

[angelflms]

here's some of the moments during my rewatch of deadpool & wolverine that were gold for my dad (an x-men/blade/ryan reynolds fan)'s first viewing:

- bye bye dance (dk if he knew that wasn't ryan dancing)

- the happy hogan chauffeur joke

- dopinder's airpods "joke?" "story?"

- yukio like.. pursed her lips up at one point? and my dad thought it was funny so he mimicked her

- he also just loved the wade/yukio moments

- the different code words for cocaine al and wade used (also the delivery of ryan saying "motherfucker" got him for some reason)

- the pegging/hookers joke

- seeing the different wolverines

- THE THOR JOKE (every mention got him)

- "get my country's name out your fucking mouth"

- "haha! not the will smith reference."

- me: *didn't even clock the reference my first time watching the movie*

- the captain america/johnny storm misdirect

- johnny falls

- every hit is followed by my dad being like "ohh. oh. oh. OHHHHH!! damn."

- "i'm marvel jesus. mj if you nasty."

- my dude started CACKLING at that

- idk if my dad remembers all of the xmen series because he didn't recognize toad that much. he did recognize sabertooth tho.

- sees antman skeleton lair

- "yooooo that's dope though!!"

- every drunken logan scene was a blast for him

- his disgusted reaction to nicepool's hair

- his equally disgusted reaction to mary puppins (he liked her tho)

- his even more disgusted reaction wade making out basically with mary puppins (+ immediately sung lady in red tho)

- the honda odyssey scene (idk if he understood the implications. mind y'all he was half asleep)

- "coexist?" he said

- that was his only reaction

- "is that carmen electra" - my dad seeing elektra for the first time (he did see the movie years ago)

- i think he missed the daredevil joke because he was busy laughing at another one

- "ohhhh blade!!!!"

- "you need to watch blade" "I'M WORKING ON IT DAD!!"

- laughed at the "i don't like you." "you never did." joke (blade: trinity is his favorite blade movie for those who don't know or ya know, couldn't tell)

- "ohhhh gambit!"

- "is that...IS THAT REALLY CHANNING TATUM???" (all of the flashbacks of us arguing about channing being gambit coming to the forefront of his mind)

- still isn't sold on it. thinks he's too buff. love the buttery nuts line he said tho

- sees laura

- me giving him a refresher on who that is

- dad: "ohhhh, she's older now!!!"

- laura and wade saying "let's fucking go"

- my dad "hey, did they just copy what logan said earlier?"

- campfire scene

- "you got the wrong guy."

- "you were always the wrong guy"

- dad laughs "yeah dad, you suck."

- dad enjoying wesley snipes as blade

- "there's only one blade"

- "deadpool looks at the camera (referencing blade's reboot coming soon-ish)"

- me and dad "technically he's right."

- dad: "well they're still working on the movie"

- me: "yeah but they went through five directors already"

- dad: "you right. you right."

- blade: *gets stabbed once*

- dad: "ohhhh"

- me: "it was one stab... he's fine."

- me: *forgot why laura had her backpack on* "she could just take the backpack off"

- dad: "she just like you" (after getting home from class i tend to leave it on)

- me: "heyyy"

- dad: "sings the dora "backpack" theme song

- cassandra making a sling ring portal and giving the boys a five second chance to go back to their world

- dad: "you know what would be fuc-messed up? if she closed the portal and they just died."

- "ngl i thought that's what they were gonna do."

- cassandra nova touching people

- me: "imagine having some chick's dirty long fingers inside your head and nose"

- my dad "THAT'S WHAT I'M SAYING!"

- laughed at kidpool's wolverine's dick line

- confused at the beheaded zombie wade wilson

- *lightskinned stare fourth wall break* "the proposal"

- "what the fuck was that? bitch, is that what you think i do?"

- dad: LAUGHS (i think he just likes when ryan cusses. he laughed every time he did. but also my dad just really loves ryan reynolds. they have the same humor. tbh the delivery was really good though)

- laughs at nicepools death (i don't blame him)

- logan: *puts on mask*

- dad: "oh he's going old school"

- paradox explaining matter and anti-matter going through someone's body

- my dad, the science fanatic "yup. you gonna explode."

- me: "i know scene just got you excited because they speaking your language."

- "it did."

- madonna's like a prayer plays

- my dad, a madonna fanatic, immediately starts singing

- "he's risen baby girl."

- dad: laughs

- me: sings along to iris

- "put your greasy tits away you preening slut"

- dad: laughs HARDER

- mary puppins comes back

- dad: "ofc"

- mid credits tribute to fox

- "is this the last one?"

- "no it's a tribute to fox. remember disney bought it. wade explained it in the movie."

- "RIIIIIIGHTTT!"

- *sees little dafne*

- "she was so little!"

---

before y'all say anything. no he didn't seen the end credit scene but he did enjoy the whole movie though!!!

this is all the reactions i can remember. i remember him also cackling reall hard at a joke but i don't remember what it was at all to save my life (i think it was when wade said "the gays understood" when they were talking about the multiverse. he also clocked the scoutmaster kevin joke and went like "ohhhhhh damn."

[jenniferlawrencelover]

All I Want For Christmas is You (Deadpool Edition)-CHAPTER ONE

Pairing: Wade Wilson/Logan Howlett/Worst! Wolverine

Rating: Explicit (MDNI)

Summary:

Wade never thought he would be engaged again.

And he wasn’t.

Yet.

Wade never thought he would be engaged again.

And he wasn't.

Yet.

*

DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS: 26

"Bub, if you don't move your ass out of my face—"

"You weren't saying that last night, sugar butt," Wade shot back with a grin, wiggling his hips just to be annoying. He was balanced precariously on a stepladder, trying to hang a glittery, excessively large tree topper. It was a special ornament to Wade because it was the first thing Wade had stolen for Logan after he saw it in the window of some fancy-ass home decor shop downtown. Wade knew that Logan would absolutely hate it, and therefore he knew he just had to have it. It helped that technically he was already banned from this particular store, because what were they going to do? Ban him again? You can't double-ban him.

Logan did call the cops on him for theft when he brought it home because he's an asshole, but that was neither here nor there.

The ladder wobbled as Wade pushed up to his tiptoes, and Logan's hand shot out and held onto Wade's legs to keep him from toppling over. "You're gonna knock the whole damn tree over," Logan grumbled, eyeing the ornament that Wade was determined to hang despite it being several sizes too big for the spot.

"But think about how majestic it'll look!" Wade finally managed to secure the topper, hopping down from the ladder with a flourish. "Voila!"

Wade took a step back, admiring their work. The tree was a monstrosity of clashing colors and mismatched ornaments. Some baubles dangled precariously from flimsy branches, while others were wedged in tight clusters as if a miniature ornament explosion had occurred. The base was an overstuffed jumble of tinsel, clashing with the bold, mismatched garlands draped haphazardly across its branches. The strands of lights, a patchwork of different colors and sizes, flickered erratically as if they were struggling to make sense of their tangled surroundings. At one point, Wade had seen a spark come from a few of the bulbs, but he was sure that wouldn't be a plot point that was of anything of importance (hint: it was).

The ornaments themselves were oversized, glittery baubles in electric blue and neon pink, intermixed with tiny glass figurines of reindeer and snowmen that seemed to be fighting for space on the same branch. A collection of homemade ornaments—some crafted with excessive amounts of glue and glitter, and all created by moi—were proudly displayed, hanging at odd angles. Among these were paper angels and beaded snowflakes that had clearly seen better days.

At the top of the tree, the crowning glory was the topper Wade had stubbornly hung—a massive, shimmering star that looked like it had been stolen from a Vegas showgirl's headdress. It was practically drowning in sparkles and sequins, casting a dazzling, if somewhat blinding, light that flickered across the room.

The tree skirt, a gaudy mishmash of red and green sequins, was barely visible under the heap of presents Wade had insisted on wrapping in overly festive, holiday-themed paper with garish ribbons. The whole setup was completed with a few hastily strewn candy canes and an abundance of stray glitter that would inevitably find its way into every crevice of their apartment.

Logan crossed his arms, his eyebrows knitted together in a familiar expression of disapproval. "It's an eyesore."

"An eyesore?" Wade exclaimed, feigning shock. "This is a masterpiece! You know, people pay big bucks for this kind of thing."

Logan snorted, unconvinced. "People like you, maybe. I've seen better decorations at a fucking dollar store."

Wade reached up to adjust a strand of lights that had come loose, his fingers deftly rearranging them until they were just right. "Well, I think she's beautiful. And if you will be a good Wolvie and actually help me, maybe later you can even stuff my stocking."

"You're fucking disgusting," Logan snarled.

Wade grinned cheekily, still fiddling with the decorations. "Oh, come on. It's Christmas. I'm just trying to spread a little holiday cheer." He glanced at Logan with a mischievous glint in his eye. "And I know how much you love my festive cheer."

"And by that-"

"And by that, I mean this sweet, sweet ass sugar gum drop," Wade crooned, tucking himself into Logan's warm, broad chest. They stood there for a moment, the soft glow of the Christmas lights casting a warm mirage of light over the room. Wade sighed contentedly, his head resting against Logan's chest. Logan didn't reply, but his arms tightened around Wade.

"You know, we should probably christen the tree properly," Wade remarked, eyes fixated on the flickering lights.

Wade was a huge fan of christening things. Everything had to be christened. Everything. New suit after it was destroyed in a particular marathon of rough sex after a mission? Christened. Logan finally upgraded from a flip phone to an iPhone? Christened. Just bought milk? Christened. 

Did it have to do with the fact that his boyfriend had a body sculpted by the gods and a libido that could match a rabbit high on an aphrodisiac? No, and actually, it's offensive that you would think Wade would reduce his boyfriend down to his sex appeal. What kind of monster do you think he is? Wade's relationship with Logan was multi-faceted, like a diamond with a thousand facets—

You know what? Fine. So what? Is it a crime that Wade likes to have long, raunchy, maybe a little masochistic, probably a little too rough for Disney, outdo-50-Shades-of-Grey-and-eat-your-heart-out-BDSM-etiquette sex with his boyfriend? It's not like Logan's complaining—well, except when he pretends to be exasperated with Wade, which is just part of his charm. Get off his ass, or maybe eat it while you're down there.

Wade's lips brushed Logan's ear as he whispered in a sultry, teasing voice, "Maybe a few strategic baubles to enhance the mood. I could even drape some tinsel over us like a sexy holiday blanket. Just me, you, some eggnog—"

"You mean that shit you made in the blender? I don't think eggnog is supposed to be that color."

"It's a festive green. Besides, I added extra nutmeg. Trust me."

Logan gave him an unconvinced look, clearly not buying it.

"Come on," Wade whined, turning around in Logan's arms and pouting up at him. "It's Christmas-"

"It's not Christmas, it's November."

"-I've even put up some Mistletoe. Are you really willing to disrespect the ritualistic customs of Mistletoe? What kind of monster are you?" Wade says aghast, clutching at the invisible pearls.

Logan didn't respond at first, his gaze scanning the room before flickering back to Wade. "I don't see any mistletoe."

Wade wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, his grin widening. "It's hidden. Wanna take off my pants and find out where?"

Snikt

[sageofgrief]

i can't remember your rules but i would like to request krisis getting flustered? thanks. i will llose my mind 💛

from brisquad-unit-4402

flustered krisis!?

︱ gn reader , teasing reader , flirty , established relationship with wilson

divider by cafekitsune

art by papercider (twt)

vezalius bandage

you and zali throw around flirty remarks at each other all the time, whenever one of you tries to catch the other off guard with it, the other just hits you with one right back, its definitely an amusing relationship for an observer.

zali was tending to your wounds after you trip and fell and took a pretty good bruise on your knee caused by the rocky ashy road. "you really need to be more careful, my dear.." he said as he laid the bandage on your soft skin, to which he noticed. despite being a medic healer, he's never had to heal you that often since you were really a careful person, which is why youre confused how this even happened. "your skin.." zali noticed "..what? whats wrong?" you looked at zali then down at your knee, which now was a better sight to be seen than before. "..nothing, it's..so soft" zali caressed the area around the bandage, you chuckled softly as you thought this was another one of zali's flirtatious gestures he was trying to pull on you to finally see you blush. you put a hand on top of his hand and it felt...warm. "youre warm, zali" you took notice, looked back at him and smiled, a smile that stung his heart and the memories of it ringing, bouncing back and forth in his head. he thought of all the happy memories you two had with each other up until this moment and started to form a faint blush on his cheeks. "zali?" "hmm?~" "youre blushing." you said, "am i now? well thats unfortunate now is it?" he chuckled softly, zali didnt care now that he technically loss their little game 'cause all he wanted is to tell you how he was really feeling, and by the look of it, it looked like you felt the same way.

vantacrow bringer

vanta always act so tough but this man will melt if he stares into your eyes for even 5 seconds, maybe even less. you knew this was his one weakness so you decided to challenge him to a staring contest.

"hah! i win once again!" vanta cheered as he released his arm from yours, you two were having an arm wrestling contest, you already knew you'd lose so you just gave up. "what should we do next? ive been winning every challenge so far~" vanta teased you, "how abouuut.. a staring contest?" you suggested. "easy!" he confidently obliged.

you two sat down on a chair across not that far from each other and began. you stared into his purple eyes that windowed into his inner soul. you were doing great, but vanta's eyes seem to be shaking? "why you shaking, bringer?" you asked, "...im not shaking youre shaking...." he nervously murmured.

the man eventually blinks and you declare your victory, but just before you said so, you take a look at vanta who broke the gaze and it looked like the man was out of breath from running a marathon. he had a hand on his chest, he was blushing, and he was sighing. "looks like i won.." you declared. "y-yeah.. you win" he admitted defeat and looked back to you, "are you blushing?" you tilted your head to the side. "uhhhhh..." he tried to come up with an excuse before looking down at his phone, "hey zali's calling, lets meet up with him...!" vanta quickly whipped up a quick excuse just to get you to stop teasing him about his flustered state. while walking though, you could tell that he was still thinking about that moment by the way he smiles randomly from time to time.

yu q wilson

he's a simple boy. just hold his hand and you'll have him hiding his face from you. he also enjoys when you ruffle his hair, when you sit on his lap, oh he also loves when you give him nicknames.

you were in the drivethru at a local fast food restaurant, you were in the driver seat, wilson being your passenger princess. you pulled up and requested your order to the worker, "that's it for me.. you want anything, yu?" you asked wilson if he wanted anything, he told you his order and you told it back to the worker. you decided to pull a little prank and call him your husband instead of your boyfriend. it's a silly prank that you saw on the internet and you knew instantly that you had to try it on him "my husband just wants fries" "HU- hus..band...?" he nearly yelled but covered his mouth before doing so. "yes, thank you" you thanked the lovely worker and drove away from them. you drove up to the window and waited for your order, you decided to look back to wilson and he just had the most confused smile on his face with the most obvious blush on his cheeks. "whaaat?" you acted clueless. "HUSBAND?...husband???" that time he yelled to which you just laughed. right before the worker opened the window to hand you your order, wilson pulls you into a kiss that nearly turned into a makeout session in the car...you freaks.

im SO sorry this took so long 4402!!! but at last, i deliver

intro • masterlist • general rules • detailed request rules • main acc @sageofgrief • nsfw acc @sageofmarionette

[fizzy-tizzy]

Headcanons for all the survivors gender/sexuality

Wilson- Just Kinda decided he was gonna be a boy when he was like 8 and his dad was so desperate for an heir that didn’t want him dead to rights he just kinda let it happen. would fuck anyone but at the same time is not interested at all

Willow- Butch-ish but more in a tomboy kinda way. genuinely likes wearing skirts and more feminine clothing but doesn’t really think she deserves to? if that makes sense? (She doesn’t really feel like a genuine legit girl) hardcore lesbian.

Wolfgang- Very traditionally masculine but in the “My job is to protect and take care of everyone” and not the “im a man so I can do whatever I want” type way. Gay but could totally be in a lavender relationship/marriage and have no problems w/ it

WX-78- Born a cis female, figured out early on that wasn’t right but couldn’t change it until they were an adult. Transed their gender but then figured out being a male wasn’t right either. eventually found someone who felt similarly and abandoned their flesh for the machine. solidly aroace. they’re triple a (agender, asexual, aromantic) just like batteries

Wickerbottom- cis female and “traditionally” feminine, has never felt the need to explore or question it. Used to be married to a man who was secretly gay and looking for someone similarly emotionally unavailable. He has since passed but left wicker a small fortune so. alls well that ends well ig

Wes- kind of a stereotypical femme twink. The kinda gay whos loud and proud and will hit you with a brick if you have a problem with that. feels obligated to help the others try and figure themselves out- esp the ones who are more in denial abt it

Maxwell- I think the idea that max is trans and Jack is cis and they turned out looking the exact same is hilarious. Technically the only ppl who knows he’s trans are jack and charlie- their parents just think he’s a masculine woman and everyone else knows him as a man. Bi and so so weak for bears and gently bossy women.

Wendy- Non-binary but still in the process of realizing it. Does not give a single shit abt romance but would totally be qpp with Webber once they know what that means.

Woodie- Probably Not Cis but has too much religious trauma to even dare questioning himself. He’s like JUST accepted the fact that he’s gay (still thinks hes going straight to hell but we’re working on that) so ynknow baby steps. baby steps. Deffo has a shit ton of body dysphoria due to the wereforms tho

Webber- Since spiders work a lil different in the constant (probably more like bees) there are like three genders Webber could potentially see themselves as. Drone, warrior, and queen. During his childhood he thinks of himself mostly as a drone but as he gets older and his sway over the spiders increases they’ll shift into seeing themselves as more of a queen. But other that he’s pretty much whatever non-spider gender is most convenient. Definitely bi.

Wigfrid- her gender is… strange. What she outwardly presents is her character’s way of presenting herself so ig I see her as kinda fluid? Idk valiant-valkyrie if ur reading this you can probably do a better job of explaining it. you are the defacto wigfrid authority. Definitely lesbian but once again will do whatever the role requires

Winona- Solidly butch lesbian. Definitely a caretaker and a protector but in the butch kinda way and not the femme kinda way. if that makes sense.

Wurt- Butch but hasn’t really realized it yet. does not think human genders apply to her bcs she’s a merm and will 100% be king when she grows up. baby lesbiab. her and wilba’s eventual union shall bring peace to the pig/merm kingdoms once and for all

Wortox- human genders do not apply to him. They are whatever is most convenient at the time. Fluid like loki and bugs bunny.

Walter- if xenogenders existed back then he would totally be like pupgender/buggender. Non-binary but has no problem being called a boy/man. Would be fine with any prns but people have only ever used he/him for him. Probably going to be a monsterf*cker when he grows up.

Wormwood- He is plant. Plants have sexes but no genders and wormwood is intersex anyway but they kinda just chose the first option presented to him once he found the others. Loves all but has absolutely no interest or idea about non-plant reproductive activities.

Walani- Yknow that “as a girl who’s a gross dude men who are fancy ladies are my best friends”? Yeah that’s her and Warly. she’s the emotional support golden retriever to warly’s high-strung cheetah. Lesbian but like. endearingly loser lesbian who’s only ever smooth when she’s not trying to be.

Warly- as mentioned before he is very much a guy who is a fancy lady. Would probably do drag if he had the chance and would 100% be the baddest bitch who makes all the men question their sexuality. Gay and european.

Wanda- doesn’t have time for all that gender questioning bullshit she just wants to kiss women.

Wheeler- Solid futch, leans more feminine or masculine depending on the situation. Woman-leaning bisexual, has probably fucked someone wife and inadvertently caused a divorce.

Woodlegs- pretty solidly cis male but 100% an embarrassing old gay grandpa. Doesn’t know much abt the terminology but is incredibly supportive and was definitely a homewrecker back in the day. Probably got out of at least one arrest by seducing the naval officer meant to bring him in

Wilba- high femme and definitely a baby lesbian. I do really like the idea of her being trans just because why not so why not. She and wurt are fat femme x fat butch once they grow up

Wagstaff- born as a girl but realized he hated it and made attempts to transition early on. Eventually ran away to America to fully transition. Non-binary too but hasn’t realized it yet and just thinks that everyone feels weird when someone calls them mr or sir. men-liker and old man yaoi certified

Wilbur- yes I’m doing the monkey. Gender is a strange concept to him, so he just kinda calls himself male bcs apparently he is? He doesn’t really understand it but it seems to be pretty important in human society so he’ll do it if it means he gets respected as an actual person and not just some sideshow.

[more-than-tender-curiosity]

Sam Watson version of Nick Carraway with Alan Ladd version of Jay Gatsby!

I’m torn between Betty Field version or Carey Mulligan version of Daisy Buchanan.

Joel Edgerton as Tom Buchanan.

Elizabeth Debicki as Jordan Baker.

Thoughts?

I think Carey does a better overall job at actually playing Daisy, especially when it comes to her mannerisms and her voice in particular. She’s described as having like a low almost songful murmur and that’s sort of unique among ‘it girls’, especially ones on the more ‘feminine’ side, so it really bugs me when they just throw that trait out the window (cough cough mia farrow). I do really like Betty Fields’ line delivery in some scenes though—I think it’s technically a little closer to the way Daisy would have intoned her speech. Plus Daisy is a brunette and Betty’s is the only one (including 1926, where she was a redhead) to get that one right!

And Elizabeth Debicki is a great Jordan. If they could simply let her and Carey Mulligan use their natural hair colors I would be soso happy. Literally why would you make the natural blonde wear a brown wig to play a blonde character and the natural brunette DYE HER HAIR a strawberry blonde to play a brunette. Baz. Baz Luhrmann. You’re normally very good at colors why are you doing this BAZ

Tom can choke regardless of who plays him but I actually think 74 Tom holds his own, like he’s got this frustrated, distracted air that I think Tom (a man whose whole character revolves around having an extramarital affair) would have beyond his gruff and restless demeanor. Like he’s never really quite there in the moment in a way all the other toms sort of miss. Bonus points for having the correct hair color because it Matters to Me.

Bonus: 49 also has the best Wilson (going against my usual Character Design Whining here!!!) who goes on to play Meyer Wolfshiem in 74.

And yes. Sam Nick and Alan Jay forever. I think DiGatsbio did a remarkable job as well but Alan Ladd just physically and wholly fits the role as if it were made from him. I know Leo came from humble beginnings and realistically Alan was just as successful at that time in his life but there’s this fatal sort of inadequacy that haunts Alan Ladd’s every single breath that Leo just doesn’t have. He’s too sure of himself instead of being sure of his dream. Hes a Good Gatsby.

That being said I appreciate his coked up Plaza meltdown.

Similar feelings for Macdonald Carey as Nick. He’s like a really good Nick but he’s……god this is so stupid to say this but he’s not hypocritical enough. There’s no itchy little awareness of his privilege at the back of his mind and no motivation for him to obscure it the way Sam pulls off. He just like…is this morally upright chronically catholic dude who comes out of this tragedy wholly unscathed and that’s just not right.