GOTHAM THING?? I GUESS??
PROBABLY NOT GONNA BE DOING SHI FOR A BIT CUZ IM GOING THROUGH SMTH
unfortunately i got ideas for my gotham bullshit (thank you @safetypinpunk for ideas) and its litterally just me (i cant make self inserts that arent just me im sorry) (its literally just me)
Name: Victor Vance (or Vicky/ViVi cuz i too many goddamn nicknames to add) Pronouns: He/They/It (gender: Transmasc demiboy)
(will fucking stalk you in gotham)
(non rp acc is @vickyyythevance)
/// ooc i dont give a fuck about what you ship i only care if you ship batcest and if you do ship batcest DNI!!
hihiii could you write a fic abt dr house x new intern with autism?
reader and house get along somewhat well but banter and bully each other sometimes
reader greets house as they come in to work by saying fun facts about the human body or some other topic (you may choose!)
tysmm idk if you're busy but i hope you're doing well :))
A/n: Okay, this was not 100% your request but I still hope you like it :) also I’m not autistic (at least not diagnosed) so I can’t guarantee it’s going to be accurate, but I did a bit of research. Hope it worked out okay. This took longer than I expected (don’t really know why) but requests are still open, and I’m always happy to chat :)
☆
For the entirety of the case you were working outside of House's office. The hallway, Wilson's office, the conference room, anything but House's office. It had been going on since the carpet was replaced.
You had a feeling it had something to do with that. If it did you actually had to agree with House’s dislike. The new carpet was horrible.
It looked similar to the old one but the tone of color was off. It felt like growing up with an oversaturated Tv and suddenly seen your favorite My Little Pony characters with a different color. It just felt wrong somehow.
Also you had gotten used to the blood stain somehow, and had perfected the count of your steps to avoid it. Discussing a potential diagnosis in public spaces was getting annoying though. Almost every time we were interrupted by either Cuddy or Wilson.
You never had been good at judging what people thought about you and how they felt about you. In middle school you had the one or other 'friendship' where it later turned out that the other person didn't even like you. It got better in high school and you found some actual friends but you still struggled to tell what people intentions were. You heavily relied on the support of friends in the early stages of dating life since it happened more often than not that you were totally oblivious to someone liking you or flirting with you.
In the hospital it was easier. Everyone was a colleague but even there existed ranks, and with ranks came the people that cared about it and the people who wanted to be treated equally not matter their title. And of course you were still unsure about the degree of liking people held towards you.
You were pretty sure Cameron liked you, maybe it also had something to do with being the only two women on the team. Chase probably was neutral about you and so was Foreman, although the latter seemed to dislike you in certain situations so maybe not. House, well, House was a mystery.
You genuinely couldn't tell and you fluctuated from thinking he hated your guts to thinking he was going to ask you on a date to thinking he was going to fire you to thinking you were one of the few people who could get close to him, in the span of hours.
Today alone you went through most of the stages. When the team was going through a diagnosis you often clicked with your pen repeatedly, it helped you think. Foreman asked you sharply to stop it. House answer came surprising.
"Let her finish whatever morse code she's trying to spell, at least we're making progress because of her. Your only contribution is that you think it's neurological, which is not surprising considering you're a neurologist. However you are a very stupid one, because we just ruled it out because of the test she came up with."
He turned to you. "Long; short, short; long. You just spelled tit by the way." That was the end of the pen clicking discussion. You still stopped clicking though, partly because of your accidental code and partly because you felt called out since you didn't even realise you were doing. Either way, it seemed to be appreciated by Foreman.
After Foreman pitched the idea of Jimson weed poisoning House wanted to test the new idea since there was no time to test him for it and treatment was dangerous if he didn’t have it. He needed to communicate with him somehow and held out some pictures towards the kid. House told him firmly to show him what he ate, repeatedly. He seemed disappointed when he grabbed the picture of the sandbox instead.
Suddenly his eye rolled backwards in the socket. You were back to the start again now that the Jimson weed theory was debunked.
You walked next to House through the hallway. He was on the way to the chapel. He was really going to refuse stepping in his office until the carpet was replaced. You would almost admired his commitment if it wasn't so annoying. Then you thought of something.
"Wait, he took the picture of the sandbox when you asked him what he ate... What about Baylisascaris? Animals often use sandboxes as litter box. And it matches all the symptoms."
House stopped in the middle of the hallway. He didn't say anything for a while and then suddenly turned around and walked back to the patient's room.
"Next time come up with good theories faster. Less low cut tops, more diagnoses. Scratch that. Who am I kidding, more low cut tops and more diagnoses."
You smiled at that. And sure enough, you were right. His confusion was treated successfully and soon he was ready to go home.
You watched from afar as the family packed there things. However, before leaving the boy stopped and handed House his beloved gameboy and made eye contact with him, for presumably the first time. His parents were ecstatic and smiling the whole way to the car.
You were also smiling. It was a sweet moment and House even seemed surprised at the moment. You sat down beside him.
"Now you have a new game to play while hiding from clinic duty. Saving people's lives has got its perks after all."
He looked at you and then down at the gameboy again. "Getting free stuff, the reason anyone becomes a doctor."
You smiled and looked down before finally asking the question that's been on your mind ever since you started your internship. "You hired me because I'm autistic, right?"
He looked at you with a grin on his face not at all surprised. "You hired Foreman because of his criminal record, Chase because of his dad and Cameron because she's pretty. But why me?"
You knew you were good at your job, but in comparison with everyone else how applied for the opening more than average. There were many people more talented who wanted to work for the head of diagnostics. Sure, you were one of the few who could actually deal with him and his complicated personality but that wasn't the reason he hired you.
"You have a pretty face... which is an add on. But yeah, I hired you because you're autistic."
You didn't ask any more questions. You didn't want to know more and also didn't really care why he wanted that quality in an employee. You were just glad to have this opportunity, although some days it was hell. But overall you enjoyed the work and even the occasional banter with House.
"Well, enjoy your little toy before Cuddy finds you and drags your ass to clinic duty."
He raised an eyebrow and watched you stand up. "What? Not gonna ask why exactly I hired you?Why I wanted someone autistic? You're not going to complain about choosing someone based on qualities not remotely related to work?"
You chuckled. "I gave up questioning your methods after my first day here. Frankly, I don't care why you gave me this internship, I'm just here to do my job. And now, I'm going to go. Got some more low cut tops to buy. Excuse me."
W: Use of petnames, Biting, Unprotected pinv (wrap it before you tap it), dean being dean, oral (f receiving), DBF!Dean, Age gap (reader is 20, dean is late 30’s), Angst, Hand kink, Creampie, Size kink (if you squint), I think that's it!
A/N: Dean would be such a girl dad you CANNOT change my mind. I'm a Dean girlie so I feel like it's easier for me to write with him opposed to Sam. That being said, I hope you enjoy this. I had a blast working on it.
A/N2: I posted this, no joke 30 minutes later i was in an ambulance 🥴
part two
You had just gotten off of work. Your 9-5 has drained you. Same papers, day after day. If you were honest you could have just skipped dinner, and went to sleep. God knows you need it, but here you are.
Walking into the grocery store to pick up a few things for a quick dinner. Deciding to roast some chicken, you stopped by the produce to pick up a few odds and ends for your lunch the next few days. While you were scoping out the best cantaloupe to buy, brown pigtails adorned with pink bows came into your vision. The little girl tugged on your blouse, “I think I lost my daddy.” She mutters shyly. Immediately dipping down to a crouch you tried to comfort her, “Well sweetheart what does he look like? Where did you see him last?”. The girl, who couldn't have been more than 6 years old, began to describe her father to her best ability. During the little exchange, her father came from the chip aisle, seemingly anxious. He breathed out in relief when he finally saw her again, “Babygirl where did you run off to?” He picked her up, setting her in the cart. “I wanted strawberries, then you were gone.” She pouted, “Sweetheart we could’ve gotten you strawberries you just have to ask.” he looked up from the girl to you, “Thank you so much, I’m so sorry.” You smiled at the man, “No problem she wasn’t a bother.” looking down to the girl you smiled again. He thanked you again and you both went about your shopping.
That night in the midst of making dinner, he was all you could think about. You didn't even know his name yet the thought of him consumed you. Dinner was silent that night, the sounds of your fork against the ceramic, too caught up in your thoughts to turn something on. You went to sleep later than normal, since you had opted to make food instead of ordering out. Your wallet needed a break, and so did your stomach.
---
Traffic was bad the next morning when you left to go to work, just what you needed. You were already running late due to your phone being dead. No phone = No alarm. You were finally able to clock in, sliding your card through the scanner to get in. Dull boring day was going by like usual when you got a call from your dad, “Hey is everything okay? I’m at work.” The man sighed over the phone, “Yeah sweetheart are you off tomorrow?”. He sounded happier than usual. Odd. “I can be, what’s up?” you questioned. “Nothing, just me and a buddy of mine going fishing tomorrow.” You relaxed as he spoke, “Okay this relates to me how?” You asked. “Well his babysitter flaked on him so he needs someone to watch his little girl.” There it was. You began to realize the relation. “So this is you calling me to ask to babysit?” You sighed into the phone, “C’mon honey it’s the first fish of the season.” He begged into the speaker. “Fine, but you totally owe me.” You reluctantly agreed. “Love you too pumpkin.” He hung the phone up, pleased. You slumped into your rollie-chair. Before you clocked out that night, you were sure to brief them of your absence, despite your affliction.
It’s not that you didn't like kids, truth be told you couldn't wait to start a family. It’s just you haven’t had a day off in over a month and here you are using it to babysit one of your father’s friend’s children. Maybe it won’t be that bad, you thought.
You woke up around 6am, the same as always. Only this time you were switching blouses and skirts, for sweats and a t-shirt. After showering, you got dressed in a simple black pair of sweatpants and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt. Thinking nothing of it, you threw on your red converse and headed out the door. The drive there was peaceful. Slow easy Saturday morning. Fog covered the road in a thin haze. Despite your gps failing halfway through, you had gotten it to boot back up and continue to give you directions.
Pulling up to the house it was beautiful. Gorgeous white house with a wrap around porch. Adorned with an American flag hanging from the banister. Charming baby blue shutters hung by the windows. This wasn’t just a house, no this was a home. Pulling up into the driveway, you are met with a familiar sight. Your father’s red Ford pick-up, parked right next to an intense black Chevrolet Impala. Parking a bit off to the side, you grabbed your bag and headed to the front door. Chatter muffled behind the door as you knocked. Your father was quick to greet you. “Sweetheart you made it! Come in.” He slid to the side and ushered you inside the home. “This house…It’s so beautiful.” you muttered, setting your back on the table by the door. “I helped build it, a long long time ago.” Your father smiled at the reminiscence as you both walked into the kitchen. An oddly familiar voice shouted from atop the steps, something directed at your father. Where have you heard that voice before? God it felt like it was on the very tip of your tongue and you couldn’t spit it out for the life of you.
Heavy boots stomped down the steps followed by a softer pair of slippered-feet. As the figure came into view, it felt like the wind was knocked out of you.
That’s where you knew him from.
“Nice shirt.” Was all he could mutter, sporting his signature grin. You smiled back, as the blush creeped from your cheeks to the tip of your nose. With no makeup on was a hell of a way to greet the man that consumed your thoughts. It also made it harder to hide the attraction slapped across your face. “Thanks, small world.” Was all you could find. Your father looked between the two of you confused, “Wait how do you know each other?”. He was almost scared to ask, knowing Dean’s past. “The grocery store actually, his daughter-” You started but he cut you off, “Cassie.” He corrected. “Right, Cassie wandered off on the search for strawberries was it?” You questioned, looking down at the little girl still dressed in her pajamas. Dean smiled at the two of you, as she rubbed her eyes. “Yep slipped right out from under me, and found your daughter-” He said. This time you corrected, “Y/n, nice to meet you. For real this time.” You smiled as you extended your hand, to which Dean took in his, shaking gently. You almost passed out when he took your hand, whole body buzzing with tension as his engulfed yours. “Dean.” He grinned, looking down at you slightly due to the height difference.
Both Dean and your father watched as you crouched down to the little girl, “And it is so nice to see you again Cassie.”. Smiling at the little girl, this time her tiny little hand darted out to shake yours, you were quick to return the gesture before standing back up to your regular height. “I’m sure you two will get along just fine.” Your father looked between you and the little girl and then to Dean who was staring at you. “Don’t get into too much trouble while I’m gone, okay?” Dean pointed between you and his daughter to which she just found hilarious as she bursted out in giggles. “No promises dad.” You teased, and a spark went past Dean’s eyes as he went to speak but choked on his words. “Right. You girls be good, okay? Have fun” You and Cassie walked the pair to, and out the door. Waving at them as your father’s truck pulled out from the driveway.
—
You were told to have fun, and fun you had.
First order of business, like any, was to put on a gorgeous princess belle dress. Of course. Every princess needs a good breakfast so that you got to making. The smell of banana filled the air as you flipped the pancake, one of which was supposed to look like a crown, though ended up more like a squiggle. Cassie loved it nonetheless. After pancakes you decided to make cupcakes for your fathers’ return. A mess of sprinkles and frosting later, you have 12 well 10 cupcakes. You and Cassie had to make sure they tasted good. The two of you played for hours, swinging and running around the yard. Playing just about every game that could be played. The sun beginning to set, you had come up with one final activity. “Oh come on you’ve never built a pillow fort?” You asked the girl, and she shook her head, “Never-ever.” She replied. “Well it is your lucky day because we are about to change that sister.” You smiled down at the girl and the two of you started to round up all the pillows and blankets in the house.
One magnificent pillow-fort later, and both of you were tuckered out. Cassie had finally given up the ghost and was passed out in the fort as the credits of Princess and The Frog rolled in the background. The sound of car doors shutting, followed by the low hum of your father’s truck pulling out of the driveway filled your ears. You perked up as the door swung open and Dean stood there looking into the living-room.
You sat up against the leather of the couch as Dean walked into the living-room, “Oh you two had a blast didn’t you?” he muttered smiling down at the fort before meeting your gaze. “Best babysitter ever.” You motioned to yourself playfully. “I bet sweetheart.” He grinned while deconstructing the fort to retrieve his daughter. You started to refold the blankets and he held her close, still sleeping, and took her upstairs to her room. Folding the last blanket you grabbed your phone charger off the couch and put it in your bag, before starting to clean up the kitchen. You had just started to wash the dishes when Dean came back down the steps, this time empty handed.
“You don’t have to do that.” He muttered as you rinsed the batter bowl from earlier. “I don’t mind.” You smiled warmly. It felt almost domestic, intimate. He reached for the plate of cupcakes, picking one up and peeling back the wrapper. You watched as his hands worked at the paper before he brought the dessert to his mouth and took a bite. You swallowed hard and he noticed. “Everything alright there sweetheart?” He asked, grinning while he chewed and finally swallowed the bite of cake. “Mhm, any good?” You questioned and he nodded. “Been awhile since I’ve had somethin’ sweet.” He muttered.
It almost felt loaded.
Like he meant something other than that cupcake in his hand.
“Glad I could help.” You smiled and teased back, hoping you weren’t mis-reading signals. He smirked as you dried your hands with the dish towel. Leaning over to wipe down the sticky frosting-covered counter, Dean pressed against you. You froze as he spoke, “Now what did you mean by that sugar?”. Your face went red as you laid there against the counter, pinned between him and the cold surface. “T-The cupcakes, something sweet.” You replied in a choked stutter. Smooth. He laughed from behind you. You could feel the vibrations from his stomach against your ass as he spoke, “You and I both know damn well I wasn’t talking about a cupcake sweetheart.” His words went straight to your core, dripping with each word. You stood up, still pinned but now with your back to his chest. “You knew that, didn't you baby?” He whispered into your ear. Lips ghosting over your neck, leaving goosebumps in their path. You nodded as you melted into his touch. “I’m gonna need you to give me more than that angel.” He said as he turned you to face him. Grabbing your hips, he sat you on the counter. Barely meeting his height, he pressed his forehead against yours.
“Dean-” You whimpered in frustration, wanting nothing more than his hands on your body. “Haven’t even touched you yet and you’re already falling apart.” He whispered, his lips almost touching yours. Not wanting to wait any longer, you leaned forward and pressed your lips against his. A tangle of limbs, resulting in your sweatpants around your ankles left you craving more. “Please I need-” His voice cut yours off, “Need what baby? Tell me and it’s yours.” He tested your restraint, leaning down to kiss your thighs. The top of his head pressed against your stomach, and your hand tangled in his hair. Dean groaned against the feeling of your nails on his scalp. “Fuck.” He growled. “Need you Dean, everywhere.” You whined, and he finally gave in.
Pulling your sweatpants past your ankles, he tossed them to pool on the floor. His hand cupped your head as he leaned you back fully against the counter. Gripping firmly onto your thighs he spread you open, head immediately going to your core. Pressing open mouth kisses against the cotton of your underwear, he watched intently as you squirmed against the laminate. His skilled hands pulled the thin fabric to the side, like a cupcake wrapper. Your nails scratched against his scalp as your fingers tangled in his short hair. Groaning against you as his tongue delved inside you. His eyes, once a soft shade of emerald green, were darker and boring up at you. Dean watched your every move as his tongue worked skillfully on your clit.
It was like a bomb went off when you finally came, taking your hearing and eyesight with it for a moment. Your chest heaved as you laid sprawled out on the counter, Dean licked his lips as you sat up, resting against your elbows. “Sweeter than that damn cupcake.” He grinned as his thumb rubbed against your thigh. “I need more Dean–please.” He looked at you with hungry eyes, “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to sugar.” He traced your hips, and you grabbed for his belt, “Need, Dean.” You said it plainly, not being able to simplify it anymore. With that he didn’t waste any more time and he unbuckled his belt in the midst of a messy make-out. He quickly rid himself of anything that could keep you from him. Pressing the tip of his cock against your slit, he leaned his forehead against yours and watched as your eyes widened at the intrusion. The way your face scrunched he could tell that it hurt and he was quick to comfort you.
“I know baby I’m so sorry.” He cooed as he pressed inch by inch in until you were flush against him. Soon, pain turned to pleasure and you allowed him to move. Each rock of his hips buried deeper inside you, you weren’t gonna last long like this. Whines and groans mixed together as you both approached your orgasm. What you didn’t expect was Dean to pick you up, wrapping your legs around his hips and plant his hands firmly on your ass. Gripping the flesh, he pounded into you ruthlessly. Rutting the deepest he’s ever been.
He tried to hold off as long as he could, wanting to soak in as much of this moment as he could. You cried out into his neck, sinking your teeth into the soft flesh as you came. “Oh fuck-” He groaned, not expecting the bite. That’s what dealt him in, the sharp pain of your teeth into him was too much to hold off on. One last thrust he came inside of you, painting your walls with a thick creamy off-white. Setting you back down on the counter, he pulled his softening cock out of you. Whining at the loss, he kissed your lips as he dripped out of you and down the side of the counter. Wiping you clean with wet-paper towels, he muttered with that boyish smile, “You free next week?”.
Whenever Dean gets sick with the flu or something they end up having the most insane sex because Dean's clinginess ratchets up by 500% and Cas likes to forcefeed him grace with his tongue
FANART 4 FIC: five breathless seconds, by bethmints [M] Complete. ( @bethmints )
My opinion about the work:
Featuring a lot of tension, bickering and the reformulation of some fabulous scenes from the series itself (including one of our favorites, the one in the alley), I find myself really liking it.
I'm not usually drawn to soulmates AU, but this short piece has a special kind of approach to the idea that just makes it very natural. It has a more informal style of writing that I, personally, am very fond of.
If you like creature Cas, this fic highlights his non-human aspects really well.
Kudos.
Thank you very much for reaching out and for recommending your work.
The show's been off for 6 years and the cw is barely a network anymore. The WB is about to be absorbed. This social media manager is just destiel posting for the love of the game at this point
the first time simon admits there might actually be something wrong with his house is the first time he brings someone home from the pub.
you watch from your perch on the hallway shelf, eyes narrowed, as he shoulders through the front door with a warm, tipsy body pressed against his side - a tipsy body that's somehow been convinced to go home with this scarred, mountain of a man.
your scarred mountain of a man. even if he doesn't know it yet.
clothes are lost on the way up the stairs; shirt on the bannister, jeans crumpled in the hall. by the time they tumble onto the bed - your bed, or it might as well be, since you sleep there every night - your fists are clenched so tight they tremble. you stand, incorporeal, in the bedroom door and watch as simon settles between their thighs, mouth on their neck, hand sliding down to stroke between their legs. they moan, arching into him, fingernails scraping down his back.
the lights flicker.
simon barely notices. the stranger does.
your anger only rises - hot, thick, ugly - as simon ignores your protests. the lights die for one, two, three seconds before surging back on with an angry crackle. the bedroom door slams shut with a harsh thud that makes both occupants of the bed jump.
“fuckin’ house." simon mutters, still grinding against them.
not enough, then.
the bedside light flares blindingly bright before exploding in sparks. you move onto the bed, cold form lingering over the guest; running a finger over their cheek.
the stranger yelps. “what the fuck - something just touched me!”
they scramble off the bed, snatching clothes in panic and bolting down the stairs, dressing in the downstairs hallway before the front door slams behind them.
silence returns.
simon sits on the edge of the mattress, shirtless and still half-hard in his boxers, dragging a hand down his face. the unnatural cold patch wraps around him once again, and for the first time in his life he starts to consider what the afterlife might entail.
“message received.” he mutters to the empty room. "message fuckin' received, loud an' fuckin' clear, whatever the fuck you are."
you brush invisible fingers along his jaw. he leans into the chill without thinking.
we have dandelions EVERYWHERE, they are basically our State Weed, it is absolutely impossible that my mom has never interacted with a dandelion before, this requires further investigation
So after extensive interrogation I have an update:
my mom is in fact aware that dandelions exist. she temporarily forgot the name and there was some miscommunication.
the truth is actually weirder
she's aware dandelions look like this
she is familiar with this flower. she knows the name of this flower. she declines to believe, however, that these are also dandelions
she does not believe these are the same plant. I tried to explain, and she thought I was either misinformed or lying. so I asked her what exactly did she think the yellow ones were called?
she answered, with complete confidence: Daffodils.
