#of course i didn't find any that fit the bill so i continued working on paper

[smile-files]

the best part about making a flowchart for philosophy class is that i get to look like a conspiracy theorist and have a grade put on how insane i am

[sanityshorror]

For those curious, this is Killian Lynch's ex wife:

Claire Lynch

About Claire Lynch:

Claire's maiden name is McCarthy

She stands at 5'8" barefoot and 5'11" in her heels

Claire was best friends with Emily, Julius's Ex wife

She is bisexual! Emily is as well. Despite the women developing feelings for each other, they never had a chance to act on said romantic desires.

She is 1.5 years younger than Killian. That makes her 1 year older than Julius and 2 years younger than Emily (who is half a year older than Julius).

Claire was always aware of Killian and Julius's relationship and never considered outing them to anyone, even as she came to discover more and more of the horrific and depraved crimes and nature of the two men. Though, she never reported it to the police either - mainly due to knowing Killian had them on his payroll and it would be worthless.

Claire died in 1895 at the age of 22, while giving birth to her and Killian's first and only child together. The baby died during birth as well.

Claire was born in America, her parents immigrated from Ireland though. She didn't have terrible parents, but they were definitely very traditional and religious. Claire went along with everything because her entire life she knew nothing good was gonna be achieved by being defiant. Her family was working class.

Claire lived life in a way that was very much just going through the motions expected. Aware of the lack of ability she had to do otherwise (due to the time period) so she didn't bother much with exploring anything that wasn't expected of her. She knew that life would be more miserable if she was aware of having a passion for something she'd never be able to do. Basically, she chose to never go find herself because she knew it would not bring any happiness. Especially after she got married to Killian, since she knew how he was.

She became friends with Emily at church, who of course was married to Julius and the result was how she specifically wound up on Killians radar.

Killian came to America and flew up to the top in the mob to a position of serious power which obviously, came with wealth. A lot. Killeen wanted and needed a traditional wife (again, it's a combination of time period and their community) to get the respect he needed in order to continue gaining any power in the mob. However, Killian being himself, still would settle for nothing less than a beautiful woman - again, she fit the bill perfectly. Claire was very quiet, she didn't argue and fit the role that would make him look best in the eyes of both his community and the mob. Claire was well aware of what an absolute scumbag Killian was but she fell for his charm, sweet talking, and appearance.

Additionally, she knew her life would be easier with the amount of wealth that would come with marrying him. Traditional wife was always her only option. So, she married Killian and with understandable reasoning. Ability to have a much easier life in the financial aspects but putting up with Killian outweighed finding someone who she loved but would live life in financial hardship. Either way she'd have the same role. Why but be able to relax more often? Plus, she did genuinely fall in love with him.

The abuse she dealt with from him thankfully was...minimized. Due to him being so absent, she didn't argue, and - shockingly, Killian didn't actually severely abuse her. It was pretty much slapping her across the face or yanking her arm or something like that. Of course, it's still terrible but compared to what Killian does to others, Claire suffered probably the least from his abuse.

I'll elaborate more on The Hellcrew and related characters soon. Killian and Julius are my mains, which is why I give them so much attention. But I have so much lore for all of Hellcrew

[bullywug-n-mugwort]

.

idk why people just decide they get to invalidate someone else's identity when they are not the one with that identity and therefore don't know what they're talking about. just saw someone i otherwise respect reblog a post about how bisexual lesbian is an invalid term because each term has changed over time and claiming it's lesbophobic and biphobic to use the term [something something mutually exclusive experiences]. i usually call my orientation "queer" but i often use "bi lesbian" to make sense of my own experience. the tags of this post were full of people dunking on all imagined reasons someone may call themselves a bi lesbian, none of which reflect my own experiences and reasoning.

not that i should have to defend myself, but a lot of these comments were very fixated on the experiences of "liking only women" vs "liking both women and men." these categories obviously have social significance, but to me personally, romantically and sexually, these categories aren't super helpful. i cannot isolate traits of manhood or womanhood i find attractive. i'm into femme traits until i see a hot butch. i like certain chests, certain facial features, and any genitals. these traits don't map onto coherent binary genders very well. not to mention my attractions shift with my fluid gender. if i'm looking for a consistent pattern, i'm into gendernonconformity if anything. i guess i'm far more into women than i am men unless the man is a flamboyant twink but at the end of the day i'm not into either as much as i am a very specific weird collection of queer gender markers. (and pansexual had never seemed to fit the bill, because there are also many gender expressions and markers i am certainly unattracted to.)

does that really make me a biphobic bisexual? i wrestled with more shame at the idea that i was a lesbian, a stereotype threat for the bisexual community i love. the twink i married turned out not to be a man at all. i was struggling with worries about comphet for years because i loved them but our marriage didn't feel "right," and now that we're both practicing genderqueers it does. to me, that experience made bisexuality feel less like home than it had before. at the same time, finding like two men attractive excludes me from the lesbian community. is it such a sin to have found home in a term that made coherent my knot of comphet and dysphoria?

i realized, as many lesbians with comphet do, that i would probably never be happy in a relationship with a man, as in someone who self- identified as a man and embraced manhood. i also find astarion bg3 hot as fuck. i fail to see how these are mutually exclusive experiences.

can i guarantee that no biphobia or lesbophobia has wormed its way into my brain? of course not, but it is so strange that embracing both those terms brands you as someone who hates both. it's also strange to exclude people from terms on the basis of internalized shame. why care if some people call themselves bi lesbians? does it feel invalidating to you? that's your own work-- same as women who think afab nonbinary people are really just women who are ashamed of being a woman and therefore should continue living as "women". (ie it's not my job to choose an identity that you approve of or think is free of shame. you figure it out.) are you worried it invalidates us in the eyes of the heteros? i simply don't believe in policing our own terms to make cishets see us as more valid or understandable. it's disguised respectability politics, plain and simple.

all these terms for our identities are best fits and best guesses, grasping for connections under this big lovely queer umbrella. the person who reblogged that post is a nonbinary lesbian. why do the same people who accept the concept of a nonbinary lesbian-- a thing that should be impossible if the term "lesbian" has actually calcified as the post claims-- insist that "bisexual" and "lesbian" are concrete, immovable, and mutually exclusive identities? to be extremely clear, i support nonbinary lesbianism. it's valid. and it's a weird fucking line to draw, saying that the gender spectrum can support loosely-gendered lesbianism on the side of the beholder but not the recipients.

there was also a historical argument claiming that people are misinterpreting contexts in which bisexual lesbian was used circa early 20th century. and like... okay??? i found the term in a pdf zine from the 90's which interviewed self-identified bisexual lesbians, gleaning a bunch of different reasons for the label. some fell into the assumptions of the aforementioned post, eg bisexuals who were basically political lesbians. (i don't claim to support this stance, though i do still insist people can call themselves whatever they want.) many more summarized complicated stories like mine, people who did not fall neatly into either "mutually exclusive" category because, it turns out, gender is a fluid weird spectrum. bi lesbians whose attractions are bi and gender is lesbian. bi lesbians who were literally only into women except for one "man". bi lesbians who were trying to untangle comphet and so weren't sure which label, if either, fit. bi lesbians who liked to fuck any gender but only fell in love with "women". so anyway, fuck outta here with "history doesn't work like that" narrow target practice.

and even if that's true... again, words are evolving all the time. we've made words like sapphic and achillean to make some sense of gender. "lesbian" has on-off been used as a gender term for decades. we've invited nonbinary people into lesbianism and many understandings of gender into bisexuality. bi lesbian is another evolution of our language, and people have been shitty about it since at least the early days of DTWOF-- bechdel's characters struggled with all of the above since the 80's.

and what's the point of terms? to find community, self- identity, and sometimes practical utility, eg in the dating world. were i to date again (yikes), "bisexual" would not be a helpful self-descriptor for finding a romantic partner. lesbian would. if i wanted to hook up, bisexual would be more helpful than lesbian, and i'd have to root through lots of gender expressions anyway. so in terms of my self identity and finding communities of similar folk, "bi lesbian" is a super helpful term. if you are a bisexual or a lesbian and feel frustrated or confused by my term, that's because it doesn't apply to you. maybe just realize this isn't your thing and leave our community to explore our experiences. love you, see you later in the sapphic tags where we have things in common.

so anyway, i think it's pretty silly to see a term, imagine reasons you dislike for why someone may use it, and pitch a fit. my identity's legitimacy has no bearing on yours. leave us alone.

[that-sarcastic-writer]

Coach (1)

Fandom: Dylan O'Brien

Pairing: AU Dylan x Fem!Reader

Mini series summary: Being a newly single mom of two kids wasn't exactly easy. And love wasn't exactly part of your agenda. So, should you avoid lusting over your son's baseball coach? Absolutely. But with a man like Dylan, could you really resist? Probably not.

Warnings: nothing major yet, small sexual innuendo, mentions of cheating and divorce

WC: 1.9k

A/N: a yes, to those who have been following me for a while may recognize this title, it's my old Dylan AU fic. Yes I decided to continue it. Updates will come periodically, because I write spontaneously and I cant guarantee quick updates. But I do promise I wont wait a whole year to update. And since I did some slight updates in the first 2 parts I decided to archive the old ones and repost them again. So yeah, if you've read them before great, give it another read, my writing is much better now I promise and if you're new welcome, I hope you like this mini series.

(You are here, part 2, part 3)

Dylan stood by the side of the large field, near the home plate, occasionally yelling out suggestions and pointing out mistakes to the young boys. 

"Ezra! You have to watch the ball! C'mon! I know you can do better!" He called out to the blonde boy standing on the home plate with a bat in hand. Dylan then turned his attention to the dark haired boy with the baseball mitt and ball in hand.

"Roman! What's going on, buddy? You gotta focus, alright? You gotta work on that throw!" Dylan called out to the young boy, who half nodded and sighed heavily in response.

Not long after, Dylan signaled the young boys scattered throughout the large field to gather around. He spoke some encouraging words to the boys before allowing them to disperse and gather their equipment which meant practice was over.

Your son, however, stayed behind for a minute. There was an inaudible conversation happening between Dylan and your ten year-old, Roman. You watched from the bleachers as your son made some tired gestures at his coach followed by a small pat on the back from Dylan. You couldn't help but follow them with your eyes as they made their way to the bleachers, your eyes lingering a bit too long on the brown haired coach. An action that wasn't taken lightly by the female sitting beside you.

"You're staring at him again." Your best friend, Ezra's mother, Eliza -or just Liz, commented.

"I'm not." You muttered out quickly, tearing your eyes away from the handsome coach, your mouth hanging open for a couple of seconds. "I wasn't staring." You stated matter of factly and shrugged as you looked down at the small six year-old sitting on your lap, making sure she wasn't paying attention to the conversation.

"Really? The drool coming from your mouth says otherwise." Liz playfully ran her finger across your chin, pretending to wipe away at it. You slightly glared at her, an eye roll going her way.

"I'm not drooling. I wasn't even staring." You tried to defend yourself, making a small sassy gesture to her.

"Hey, I don't blame you. If I wasn't married," she took a pause as she eyed Dylan as he removed his baseball hat to run a hand through his messy chocolate locks, you couldn't help but stare as well. "I'd jump on his bones any day."

"Hey, there's young ears present." You said quietly to Liz as not to disturb the young girl in your arms.

Despite your attempt not to, you couldn't help but allow your eyes to fall once again on the field, following the handsome male that was the topic of your conversation. You had to hide the infatuated sigh that left your lips at the sight of your son's coach running around the field, talking to the kids and picking up equipment.

"Well he is handsome, I'll give him that.." You admitted quietly, "and he's really good with the kids."

Your friend smirked slightly at your words and wiggled her eyebrows at you.

"I bet that's not the only thing he's really good at." She eyed you suggestively and slightly nudged at you with her shoulder, "You should find out what other things he's good at."

Your mouth instantly fell open and your eyes widened at the insinuation.

"Eliza! Oh, my god. Don't say that." You slightly shook your head to brush off the embarrassment and hid your face on your hands to cover the crimson on your skin.

"Mommy you're warm!" Athena, your six year-old giggled as she grabbed your warm, sweaty hands. Even your daughter noticed the nervousness that crept up on you when it came to Dylan, even if it was just the topic of him. Truth was, you had been shamelessly crushing on your son's baseball coach ever since he joined the team a couple of months ago. 

Get it together, you should not be crushing on your son's baseball coach.

"I know baby, it's just hot out here." You tried to brush it off, but the knowing smirk on Liz's face wasn't exactly helping. "Thena, why don't you go get Roman and Ezra? They're over there." You pointed to the field where Roman and Ezra were talking —or more like just Ezra was, to the other kids on the team. She quickly nodded and bolted off the bleachers, somehow not tripping over the steps as she went down. You sighed heavily the moment the young girl was far enough and slightly turned your head in Liz's direction.

"You should totally ask him out." She said out of nowhere with a shrug and a smirk on her face. Your eyes widened for the hundredth time, and you instantly shook your head frantically, the idea alone giving you a headache.

"Ask Dylan out? No way. I.. No.. That's just.. No." Your cheeks slightly heat up at the preposition. But you quickly turned it down with a vigorous shake of your head, not even giving the idea a minute to sink into your brain. "No, he's Roman's coach. It's just wrong."

"Why? I mean, you're single, and as far as I know, he's very single. Soo," she dragged the 'o' as she wiggled her eyebrows and she nudged your shoulder, pushing you over a little in a high school girl manner, "Why not get ready to mingle with the hot coach?"

"First of all, I'm technically not single, not yet." You groaned with an eyeroll. As much as you and your husband —or ex-husband or whatever were no longer living together, the divorce process had been unnecessarily long and dreadful. So as much as you wanted to be legally single, you were still married to that piece of shit. 

"And second of all, if I were to date someone, which is a big if, I can't date Roman's coach out of all people. He already has enough as it is. It'll just confuse him and probably upset him more." You sighed heavily as you looked over to the side of the field, where all the boys were having a conversation about elementary boys' things. And there you saw your son, trying, and ultimately failing at joining said conversations. And with little Athena tugging at his side, all he got from the other kids was laughing and rejection.

Seeing your son's sad and hurt expression when the other boys laughed at him or even told him to go away broke your heart. You wanted him to be happy again. You wanted him to be the energetic and loving kid he was before your waste of a husband left. Ever since Ryan —your waste of a husband left, Roman hasn't been the same. 

For the past six or so months, he has been distant and seemingly unhappy. All he ever did was lock himself up in his room and play video games. He barely ever interacted with you and Athena anymore. He barely interacted with anyone, period. Once Ryan left, it was up to you to support your kids financially. Of course, their father still paid child support, but he sure as hell didn't pay your bills or everything you needed to spend on your children. Which meant you had to take him out of the fancy school he went to in order to still pay the monthly expenses of your home. And he just didn't quite fit in at school, especially now. 

So, you hoped that him joining the baseball team would change that, that it would help him open up again and that it would help him make new friends. But so far, it's worked just the opposite.

"So, I'm making dinner tonight. Do you want to come over with the kids and get drunk? Luke will watch over the kids." Liz spoke, interrupting your train of thought.

"That sounds a-mazing," you spoke in a song-like tune, a sigh of contentment leaving your lips. "But I can't. I told Roman I'd take him to that Italian place he likes."

"Tomorrow then. I'll have that Chardonnay you love so much waiting for you." She winked at you as you both stood up, ready to greet your children.

"Thank God for your alcohol stash." You joked, flinging your arms up in praise. 

You both laughed and smiled in your children's direction, but your smile dropped as your kids and Ezra approached you. Ezra was holding Athena's hand, while Roman walked behind them, with a certain heaviness on his step and an annoyed look on his face. And Athena had a small pout on her face.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

"Rome doesn't want to hold my hand!" Athena whined with a pout of her lower lip. She released Ezra's hand and exchanged it for your own. Ezra going to his own mom. While Roman simply stood there, with a hand stuffed into his pockets and the other messing with the strap of his bag, his gaze stuck on the ground.

"Roman, baby," you sighed softly, not wanting to give the poor kid a hard time. You understood he didn't exactly fit in, no matter how much he wanted to, and that upset him. You didn't want to add up to that. "Your sister just wanted you to hold her hand."

"She was embarrassing me.. I'm already the kid without a dad, I don't need to be the kid with an annoying  baby sister." He muttered, his gaze not once leaving the ground.

 His words were harsh, but lacked emotion. And it broke your heart. But as much as you wanted to tell him that it wasn't true, that he did have a dad, you'd be lying if you did. Ryan was already absent in your children's lives before the split, but at the same time he was there, and Roman felt as if he was. But now, his father really wasn't there, at all. And there was nothing you could do about it.

You sighed softly, gesturing your free hand out for him, "Roman, come here," a heavy sigh left the young boy's lips as he took a few steps closer, standing in front of you with his head hanging low and his eyes stuck to the ground. You used your hand to hold the side of his face, his eyes meeting with your own. "Baby, Thena just wanted to show you that she loves you. She didn't mean to embarrass you, right Thena?" You turned your attention to the small girl that hid behind your arm, her eyes glistening with tears.

The small girl sniffled and shook her head, "No.. I'm sorry Rome.. I won't do it ever again, I-I promise."

You exchanged looks between your children, your eyes finally landing on Roman as you waited for a response. You raised an eyebrow at him, your eyes speaking a silent 'and' to the boy. He eventually signed, almost too heavily, and nodded. 

"It's okay, I guess.. I don't really mind all that much." He half smiled, shrugging slightly.

Athena's expression quickly lightened, the small girl detached herself from your hand and hugged her older brother. And as much as he hated to admit it, he didn't mind the affection. He returned the hug and smiled, for a moment at least.

After a second or two, Roman slightly pushed Athena off him, signaling that that had been enough affection for a day. You breathed out softly, turning to look at Liz, who gave you a sympathetic smile in response. 

"Well my loves, off we go. Say goodbye to Auntie Liz and Ezra." Both your children did as you said. Athena hugging both of them, and Roman simply waving at them. Good enough.

And at last, you gave Liz a quick but tight hug, "I'll call you tomorrow." You said shortly before you grabbed a hold of your daughter's hand and your son's bag, and eventually parted ways.

Today was gonna be a long day.

《Here's an edited version of part 1. As always I hope y'all enjoyed it. I'm trying to get back into writing after a long year, hopefully this will help me get back on track. Let me know your thoughts. And let me know if you'd like to be added to my dylan/coach taglist which I do have》

[bucksfucks]

           amorosa // steve rogers

         chapter two: seal the deal

    chapter one // chapter two // chapter three

                    chapter four // chapter five

              ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

                             main masterlist

summary || after setting up a date with steve you fight back the urge to bail on account of your nerves. an agreement is reached and despite all odds, steve makes you feel relaxed and calm before you’re welcoming him back to your apartment after the night is almost over.

pairing || sugar daddy!steve x reader

word count || 3,111 words

warnings || financial struggles, sugar daddy dynamics, undefined age gap, unprotected sex, fingering, oral, heavy daddy kink, praise kink, size kink, dirty talk — 18+ ONLY//MINORS DNI

     You didn't know what to expect. You had never done something like this before. 

     As you rummaged through your closet, groaning at the struggle of finding something decent for tonight. You didn't own anything that would match what Steve was wearing, you barely had time to go out as it is.

    Not to mention your financial situation didn't exactly let you splurge on the finer things in life, your phone screen had been cracked for over half a year. You'd been meaning to get it fixed, but you could never justify dropping more than a hundred dollars on something that still technically worked. 

    Your mind flashed back to when Steve dropped the hundred on the bar like it was nothing. Suddenly you felt self-conscious, knowing you weren't nearly good enough to be going out with a man like Steve Rogers, Vice President of Stark Industries. 

    Professional or not, people would be talking and giving you odd glances. 

    You settled on a comfortable, sleek pair of straight cut pants and a simple blouse. Steve had decided on a steakhouse, a steakhouse of all places for a single drink as he put it last night. Another groan as you slipped on the uncomfortable and only pair of heels you owned. 

    A simple black open-toed shoe matched your outfit enough before you grabbed your purse, slinging it over your shoulder. 

    The Uber would be here soon enough and while spending thirty dollars on a car ride to a place you'd have to try not to stick out like a sore thumb, the subway in heels just wasn't an option. 

    The entire ride there your leg couldn't stop bouncing, no matter how much you willed yourself to calm down, nothing seemed to help as you left the modest looking part of the city only to enter into an entirely different world. 

    Luxury brand stores lined the streets, expensive cars parked at their side as your stomach flipped at some of the sights. 

    You didn't fit in here, you were sure your driver was just as confused as you as they kept driving deeper into the city. 

    "Have a good night," he bid you as you thanked him, shutting the car door and letting the late summer breeze billow around you as you looked up at the restaurant in front of you. 

    Bluefin read in a fluorescent blue light as you shook your head, laughing at the ridiculous situation you were in. You pulled at the door, it was heavy and tall before a hostess prompted you. 

    "Do you have a reservation with us, miss?" She asked, eying you up and down as if she knew that you were a fraud, like you didn't belong; and she wasn't wrong. 

    "I uh, have one with Mr. Rogers." You stumbled over your words trying to sound as confident as possible. She nodded her head politely, asking you to follow her before she swiftly turned to lead you through the maze of tables. 

    You took in your surroundings, the dozens of chandeliers hanging from the ceiling to the gold plated booths and shimmering table legs. It was safe to say that this place was way out of your comfort zone. 

    "Mr. Rogers, your guest for the evening," she spoke sweetly, throwing you a small smile as Steve got up to greet you. He placed a kiss on each of your cheeks, the action causing your body to flush as his beard grazed your skin. 

    He smelled exactly like he did last night, though this time it wasn't as subtle. He smelled fresh and clean and you could get lost in those same dashing blue eyes again.

    "I'm glad to see you again." Steve smiles, helping you into the booth before sliding in beside you. It was a very intimate space, his shoulder pressed against your as you placed your purse beside you. 

    Two menus were already placed in front of you, two glasses of water alongside a pitcher in the middle as you fiddled with your thumbs in your lap. Could he tell how nervous you were? 

    "It's nice to see you too," you managed to finally spit out as Steve smiled sweetly, he turned his body slightly so he was facing you, "this place has great seafood, I really recommend the crab cakes." 

    Your eyes lit up at the word food, you had been so nervous that it had barely crossed your mind. A waiter soon approached the table, "can I get you guys anything to drink?" 

    You felt like it should be you serving Steve, instead you just shook your head, "I'm okay with just water." You answered truthfully before Steve smirked. 

    "We'll take a bottle of champagne for the table, preferably rosé from 2012." It sounded like he was speaking an entirely different language. To you, wine was wine, if it got you drunk, it was good. 

    The waiter nodded his head, turning around to leave you both alone. You took a sip of your water when you noticed just how dry your throat was. Steve opened his menu and you followed suit before your eyes ran down the various dishes. 

     Everything sounded good and you heard your stomach grumble at the thought of the crab cakes and maybe even the butternut squash ravioli. Then your eyes ran to the prices, your heart palpated at the thought of them. 

    "Dinner's on me tonight, get whatever you'd like." It's like Steve had heard your internal monologue and decided to put an end to it. You were thankful for that, a wave of relief washing over you as his soft features made you feel safe. 

    "Thank you, really. I don't think I've ever eaten anywhere nearly this fancy," you joked, hoping the humour would absolve you of your awkwardness. Steve chuckled, low and deep as the waiter came with the champagne. 

    It was popped then poured into the flutes and placed in ice before Steve picked his up. 

    "To new beginnings," he spoke. You picked up yours, "to new beginnings," you repeated his words, gently clinking the two glasses together before taking a sip. 

    You had never been a fan of champagne, but this one wasn't too dry nor was it too sweet. It was light and fruity and soon enough you knew it would be enough to quell the nerves. 

    When the food arrived at the table, the conversation seemed to flow much more naturally. Steve didn't say much, asking a question and letting you answer as he got to know you. You found yourself sneaking subtle glances in his direction, admiring his side profile or just how close he was to you. 

    As the bottle of champagne was nearly empty, you felt much lighter as giggles fell past your lips. You had leaned into Steve a little more as the night progressed, his large hand falling to your thigh. 

    "So," the faint echo of your giggle was still heard as Steve's expression turned to a much more serious one. "I think we should discuss our… business opportunity." And just like that, you had sobered up. 

    You nodded your head as Steve cleared his throat. 

    "I'd like for you to join me for things like these. Dinner, company events, fundraisers, yearly ski trips to the alps, you know, the boring stuff." You nearly guffawed at his words. The boring stuff? A trip to the alps? Boring? You could barely believe it. 

    Still, you nodded your head, a silent sign for him to continue. 

    "In return, I'll take care of all your bills and expenses. You'll have plenty of petty cash, we'll call it," he smirked. "All I ask is for your company." He concludes and you swallow, taking it all in. 

    "When you say company, do you mean… " You trailed off, not sure how to delicately ask him if he wanted to fuck you or not. 

    Steve leaned in, his face inches from yours as he squeezed your thigh, "that's exactly what I mean, Princess." 

    The pet-name caused your stomach to somersault as your breath got hitched in your throat. You're not sure if it was the alcohol coursing through your veins or if this was just the effect he had on people. 

    Probably a mix of both. 

    Whatever it was, it caused you to wring your hands in his collar as you crashed your lips onto his. He didn't hesitate, not even for a second as his hands went to cup your face. The kiss left you breathless, spinning, and feeling like you were floating. 

    "Is that a yes?" He asks cheekily and you can't find the words, all you can do is nod your head before Steve is forced to drop your face as the waiter brings him the check. 

    You readjust yourself in your seat, one leg on top of the other as you close your eyes to steady your breathing. 

    Steve grabbed his leather wallet, pulling out a flashy black credit card and handing it to the poor man doing his job without any regard. You bit your lip at the interaction, someone with his money and power, it made the throbbing between your legs only worse. 

    "Let me drive you home." Steve whispered meeting your eyes as you nodded, "oh it's okay, I can just take the train back." You said politely and while you didn't want to, you sure as hell couldn't afford another Uber trip. 

    It's not like you didn't want to take him up on his offer either, truthfully, you weren't sure how you were going to react all alone with Steve. 

    You don't fuck on the first date, but for Steve, hell you'd let him take you in the bathroom of this restaurant. God knows it's probably better maintained than your building. 

    "Please? I don't want you alone on the train at this hour, you'd have me worrying all night and I don't think you'd wanna upset me like that." There was a sultry undertone in his words as his lips twitched into a smirk. 

    You nodded your head, "yes, okay, thank you Steve." 

    When you stepped into the now cool late night summer air a shiver ran down your spine as the valet went to grab Steve's car. You stayed silent, kicking a pebble with your toe as you tried your best not to shiver. 

    You felt Steve drape his suit jacket over your shoulders, "chilly night, huh?" He joked, as you hugged it around yourself. This man was full of secrets, secrets you wanted to learn to lock away in your own mind. 

    "Here you are Mr. Rogers, have a great night." The valet said, acknowledging you both as he opened the passenger side door for you. You slipped into the warm car, an Audi, you recognized the four rings on the steering wheel as Steve got in. 

    The car was quiet, city nose becoming nonexistent as he put it in drive. 

    "Where am I going?" He asked, pulling out of the restaurant parking lot and into the bustling New York City streets. 

    "Queens," you said, admiring the lights outside of your window as Steve chuckled, "no way, I grew up in Brooklyn." Steve commented as you turned your head. 

    That surprised you. A guy like him? From Brooklyn? You guess you should've known by his subtle accent, but it made you smile as Steve continued his way to your apartment. 

    "Well, uh, thank you for dinner, Steve. Really, it was the best food of my life." You chuckled as he returned your smile. "It was my pleasure, you're good company." He joked, squeezing your thigh as a new wave of arousal running through you. 

    You both sat in somewhat awkward silence as you grabbed your keys from your bag, clutching them in your hand. 

    "Do you maybe wanna come up for a cup of coffee? Or tea? I don't really have much to offer." You chuckled, as he smiled, “that sounds lovely." 

    Steve followed you to the front of your building, the old, paint chipped door creaking open before you pressed the elevator button that only illuminated on good days. 

    Today was not that day. 

    You tapped your foot as you watched the numbers descent until the L appeared on the small screen, the bell dinging. You got into it silently, the only sound was your heels against the stained flooring and the electrical whirring of the elevator. 

    Steve kept a respectable distance, his shoulder brushing yours as the elevator car moved up to the eleventh floor. 

    You stuck your key into your lock, jamming it upwards as you fiddled to find the sweet spot before you managed to push the door open, "home sweet home." 

    The apartment was small, a little over five-hundred square feet, but it was more than enough for you. You decorated it with plants and art you'd find at your local markets. It felt cozy and like home, but you knew it was nothing compared to what Steve was used to. 

    You didn't bother turning on any of the main lights, a small light in the kitchen was all you needed as you were finally able to kick off your heels. You dropped to your true height, having to crane your neck upwards to meet Steve's eyes. 

    It was in this moment that you realized just how massive he was. Broad shoulders and long legs held him upright as his now darkened eyes looked you up and down. You had forgotten all about the coffee as you felt his gaze all over you. 

    "You look stunning," he whispered, stepping closer to you. "Words just don’t do justice." He added, snaking an arm around your waist. 

    "Let me show you just how beautiful you are to me." He breathed, mouth close to your ear as you gasped, nodding your head. 

    "Oh, Steve, please." You whimpered, your hands going to rest on his shoulders as he pulled you flush against his body. You could feel him hardening through his dress pants, pressed tightly against your hip. 

    "Call me Daddy tonight, Princess." Steve purred as your stomach flipped before his lips were back on yours. He tasted like the remnants of the champagne as his tongue explored your mouth. 

    "Daddy," you gasped, his lips working his way down your neck as he pushed you further into your apartment. You yelped when he tossed you onto the bed, the moonlight streaming through your curtains and onto the sheets. 

    "That's my good girl, you're bein' so good for Daddy." His praise sends goosebumps over your skin as his fingers begin working on your blouse. You can sense the urgency in his actions, both of your hands having one goal in mind; remove any and all clothing. 

    You barely have any time to stop and admire Steve's build. He's toned, lean and fit and you already love the faint chest hair as he works on your bra. It's discarded soon after, your panties being yanked off before Steve's standing naked in front of you. 

    "Fuck," it's a breath that falls from Steve's lips as he's right back on top of you. His nose traces down your chest, his mouth paying equal attention to both of your nipples before his mouth is floating above where you need him most. 

    Neatly decorated hair covers your mound as Steve places your legs over his large shoulders, spreading you open in front of him as he lets out a low groan. 

    "Princess, you're so wet. Is this all for me? Is this why you've been so squirmy during dinner?" He smirks, his question rhetorical as he uses his fingers to spread your lips open. 

    Your hips are bucking, fists around your sheets as you whine. Steve's tongue is wide and warm against you when it finally connects with you. A lewd moan slips past your lips when he swirls it tightly around your clit. 

    The attention to detail is mind blowing, his fingers slowly slipping inside of you as he works you open. There's nowhere in the world you'd rather be than right here with Steve's face buried between your thighs. 

    "You taste so sweet, Princess." He hums, moaning around you as your fingers tangle in his once neatly styled hair. You tug on the locks, a low groan in response that spreads warmth through your body. 

    "Daddy, pl-please, wanna cum." You're lost in the sensation of his fingers scissoring you open, his tongue flicking tight figure-eights over your clit. 

    "Cum for Daddy, Princess, cum all over my face." He growls, curling his fingers deep inside of you, breaking the coil as your back arches off the bed. 

    You feel like you've just ran a marathon, lungs aching for oxygen, and he hadn't even gotten his cock yet. 

    "Hands and knees, Princess. Show Daddy your ass," he growls, flipping you over as you prop yourself up on shaky knees. You're mewling, wanton and burning to feel how his cock will fill you up. 

    The bed shifts under Steve’s weight as his fingers dig lightly into the flesh of your waist, positioning your hips as his cock nudges your entrance. 

    “You think you’re ready for my cock, Princess?” He taunts as you wiggle your hips against him as he chuckles deeply from within his chest before slowly sinking into you. 

    You both moan at the sensation, your warm walls gripping around him as he stretches you out. 

    “Takin’ Daddy’s cock so well Princess—fuck, feels so good.” Steve grunts, his hips snapping against yours with a force that has you falling face first into the pillows. 

    His one hand goes to rest between your shoulder blades, keeping you planted firmly against the bed as he fucks you deep into your worn out mattress. 

    Your moans are muffled, you're thankful for the position considering your walls are paper thin and you'd rather not have your eighty-five year old neighbour Darleen hear about the mind-blowing sex you were currently engaged in. 

    "You gonna cum for Daddy again? Make a mess over his cock, hmm?" He whispers in your ear, voice hoarse and gravelly as your toes curl and you're cumming again for him. 

    Steve pulls out, fisting his cock in his hands before you're feeling his hot cum painting your back as you're reeling at the aftershocks of your orgasm. 

    You're pulled out of your post-orgasmic bliss when you feel Steve cleaning you up with what? You don't care, you'd do laundry tomorrow, throw it away, all you wanted was to feel Steve's arms around you. 

    He falls back into bed with you, his gentle eyes meeting yours as he chuckles, "if that doesn't seal the deal, I don't know what will."

tagging // @jennmurawski13 | @nakedrogers

any and all feedback is always appreciated! <3

[mons1erprom]

Heya! New fan here, but I really like your stuff. Could we get Oz x Vera Superhero/Supervillain AU?

I actually did a monster prom superhero/supervillain AU awhile back

So I've already got a bit of a base for this, even if the original was Oz x Miranda:

Oz is the superhero 'shadow walker', a shapeshifter with the ability to manipulate darkness and shadows, as well as create illusions based on a target's fears. A master of stealth and psychological warfare. (Brian is 'the eternal man' with super strength and a stubborn healing factor, Vicky is 'positive charge' with electrokinesis, and Amira is 'solar flare' with pyrokinesis. Together they are the spooky squad)

Vera, on the other hand, is 'the chairwoman'. The undisputed kingpin of Monsteropolis' organized crime scene, ruling it's seedy underbelly with an iron fist while maintaining a legitimate corporation as a front with her sister Valerie as her right hand lady. She has no powers and rarely goes up against the heroes directly, often hiring other villains like the slayer (aaravi) and phantom thief (polly) to do her dirty work for her.

They originally met after the anarchrist (damien) launched one of his crazy schemes to blow up Vera's corporate building, only for the spooky squad to put a stop to it. During which Vera nearly fell to her death, only for the shadow walker to swoop in and save her at the last moment. Causing her to become rather interested in the hero.

As Vera looked into the squad, she developed somewhat of an obsession with 'shadow walker'; viewing his abilities as an invaluable asset to her criminal empire, him being rather easy on the eyes for a shapeshifting mass of shadows didn't hurt either.

This obsession soon manifested itself in Vera trying to tempt shadow walker into joining her side, promises of wealth and power along with carnal pleasures were her usual weapons; but the hero's principles were simply too strong for her to buy. Of course she has managed to extort her way into a few passionate nights with info on other super villains. But ultimately shadow walker continued to rebuff her advances.

That only made the situation worse, what with Vera not used to being denied what she wants. Which caused the chairwoman to become bent on making the shadow walker hers, one way or another. He was the only man worthy of her greatness, nobody else was allowed to have him.

Oz on the other hand is understandably freaked out by her advances at first, despite putting on a stoic front. He's got the most dangerous crime lord in the city trying to seduce him and turn him to the dark side

Luckily it hasn't affected the team dynamic, outside of some light teasing about Vera's crush on him, Oz isn't the only one with a villainous crush; Vicky has been eyeing phantom thief now and then.

Eventually he relaxes though and realizes that he does share the attraction somewhat, strong, intimidating women are totally Oz's type and there's nobody that fits the bill better than a crime lord like Vera. He even starts flirting back now and then to throw her off during their battles.

but neither of them are under any illusions, they are both well aware that they come from far too different worlds to make the relationship work; although that is the only thing they have wrong with one another, him being a superhero and her being a supervillain is a total deal breaker. But they could always dream of a world where they can be together, be it as wholesome heroes or vile villains.

Although Vera's interest in shadow walker has been shaken as of late with the arrival of her newest personal assistant for her legitimate business: a shy little shadow boy named Oz who was cute as a button. Despite his submissive nature, Vera finds her cold heart being somewhat melted by his genuine kindness towards her and his thoughtful actions...although there's something oddly familiar about him, the gorgon can't shake the feeling that she's met Oz somewhere before...

- mod zombie.

[managedmischiefs]

sweatpants//spencer reid

genre: fluff

warnings: nothing really. sad spencer for about two seconds.

word count: 2.7k

i have plenty more one shots on my wattpad so let me know if any of you want to see more of this type of writing :) make sure to reblog and comment :))

i fell in love with spencer reid the moment i met him. i fell in love with absolutely everything about him. his smile lit up the little bookstore as his glasses drifted further and further down his nose, and his hair hung over his forehead in messy, unbrushed curls. from the first time we locked eyes after he got a book down from the top shelf for me, i envisioned our whole future together.

we saw each other casually after our first meeting despite how badly i wanted more. we quickly realized that we frequented the little bookstore at the same time on saturdays and we just began to "accidentally" run into each other over and over at the same exact day and time. of course, i made sure to be there every saturday for the next three months just for the chance of seeing him.

i finally got the balls to ask him out after the fifth month of these meetups. he seems surprised and he blushed, then tugged on his tie to loosen it around his neck. he accepted quickly and we went bowling the next week. we were both horrible and eventually asked to put the bumpers up because the amount of gutter balls we were throwing were astronomical. but that "first" date was the first time i noticed something very important about spencer reid.

he wears a variation of the same outfit every single day, no matter what he's doing.

sweater vests, button ups, slacks, ties, and converse. sometimes a cardigan. these items get mixed and matched everyday and sometimes don't match, but the chaos of his outfit colors just suits him. and it suits his penchant for wearing mismatched socks. but i continued to realize more and more about his wardrobe as we spent more time together.

if we went out: slacks, button up, tie, converse.

if we had dinner at his apartment: slacks, button up, sweater vest, tie, converse.

if we cuddle on the couch: pajamas.

there's no in-between with him and it took me a while to decide if i loved this or thought it was odd. i landed somewhere in the middle. he would sometimes start to squirm in the middle of dinner and go to change into pajamas to be more comfortable.

i never commented on this because i knew he liked the way he dressed and i didn't want him to think i hated it. he's already an insecure person, despite me loving him with my whole heart and soul, and i'd feel so horrible if i added onto that. so i would sit through the squirming and the tie-tugging and the quick unlacing of shoes after a long day of converse wearing. i grinned and gave him lots of kisses because i love him regardless of his fashion choices. or lack there of.

but spencer continues to grow and thankfully, i grow with him. i start a new job and spencer continues to thrive at the bau. i move into his apartment and he decides that this is the perfect time for a change. a new haircut. super short on the sides and long on the top. i nearly keeled when i saw how utterly handsome he was with his new haircut. i jumped his bones immediately.

but the sweater vests and same brown cardigan didn't quite hit the spot anymore. i would find spencer standing in front of the mirror before work, silently wondering if the black or brown cardigan would look better with his gray sweater vest. still, it was endearing but eventually it becomes too much.

i pass a department store everyday on my way home from work and it started to pique my interest. one day when i got off work early and knew spencer wouldn't be home, i stopped off. the store was huge and had a humongous selection of styles and brands to choose from. i knew i had to bring spencer.

when i told him i wanted to take him shopping, he tilted his head in confusion like an adorable puppy. "what do you need? new sweaters? it is almost winter and i know you got rid of most of your winter clothes when the summer came. did you—"

"no, honey," i laughed, silencing his confused, off-topic rant. "i'm taking you shopping. for you."

another head tilt. "for me? i don't need anything."

"i know you don't need anything," i clarified, running my hands through his freshly cut hair, "but i want to treat you. and besides, i think you've outgrown some of your wardrobe and it's time to get some new items."

so that leaves us now, walking hand in hand into the department store. he's holding me tighter than usual as i lead him to the men's section, but i don't complain. i know he gets nervous in public places and i have no problem with a bit of coddling.

"so, i was thinking," i say as i flip through a rack of undershirts, "you could get some new dress pants. maybe a pair of jeans. maybe some blazers or just suit jackets. that way your style can grow but you can also wear your trusty button ups and ties underneath."

spencer pouts. "i like it better when we shop for you."

i stifle a laugh as i find an appealing gray blazer and search for spencer's size. "and why's that, bub?"

"because then you get to pick out cute clothes and i can watch you try them on."

"well, this time, i'll get to watch you try them on," i wink and hand the blazer over to him. "hold that. please and thank you."

spencer huffs and drops my hand so he can hold the hanger of the blazer. i continue walking through the racks and in my peripherals, i can see spencer glancing around the store and at the racks surrounding us. he follows behind me like a lost puppy, the amount of items in his hands growing as i pass every rack.

"how would you feel about," i pick out a set of matching maroon pants and a maroon blazer, "this color?" i told it up to spencer's chest. he looks down at the garment and scrunches up his nose. "no? that's okay. i think navy's suit you better anyway. no pun intended."

"babe?" he wonders softly as i move over to a rack of ties. "why are you doing this?"

"doing what?" i pick up a tie that is blue with pink flamingoes on it and drape it over his shoulder.

"taking me shopping. wanting to redo my wardrobe or something."

"well," a new tie on his shoulder- a yellow base with blue whales, "you have had the same wardrobe since i met you, and that was many years ago. you've grown up, spencer. maybe some new clothes could reflect that."

i watch a pout come to his face and his shoulders deflate. "you don't like the way i dress?"

i pout right back at him, trying to not seem so mocking in my expression. "i love the way you dress. but i think it might be time to replace that same brown sweater vest you've had since college. that's what i'm talking about. we don't have to do this if you don't want. we can go home."

spencer thinks for a second. he adjusts his hold on the handful of blazers and trousers in his arms and takes another glance at them. "i'll give these a try."

the pride swells in my chest and nearly bursts out. it's no secret that spencer hates change. he would rather his life stays exactly the same all the time. meals, furniture arrangement, train schedule, his wardrobe. clearly, he would rather wear the same clothes for the rest of his life than branch out a bit. so him agreeing to do just that nearly makes me cry right in the middle of the department store.

we push on and spencer continues to trail behind me and hold the clothes i pick. once his knees are practically buckling under the weight of the chosen clothes, i agree to let him start part two. the fitting room.

he disappears into a room and i sit across from the door in a fluffy armchair that probably has more germs on it than a public bathroom. okay, maybe that's just dramatic. but it has enough germs that i'm sure spencer would refuse to sit here, or maybe even get grossed out that i'm sitting on it.

"uh," i hear my boyfriends voice from behind the door, "i think i did it."

i hold in my giggle. "you think?"

"i mean, i put together an outfit. don't know if it's any good. it's definitely not as good as the things you put together."

"just let me see."

the door pops open and my jaw nearly hits the floor. my spencer is standing there in navy slacks, a navy blazer, a vest, button up, and a tie. he looks exactly like i expected him too. my same loving, quiet, genius boyfriend but much older and mature. he looks phenomenal.

but spencer scrunches up his nose and turns on his toes to look in the full length mirror. "i feel like all of this is too busy. there's too much happening."

"no, baby, not at all," i come up behind him and slide my hands across his back and then around his waist. "it's such a good look on you. it's spencer reid but as an adult."

he furrows his eyebrows and looks at me through the mirror. "are you implying i dressed like a child before?"

"no, no, not at all," i nudge his waist and he spins back to me. "it's a perfect outfit. you put it together perfectly. the colors, the different pieces."

spencer's face lights up as he watches me adjust the lapel of his jacket. "really?"

"yes!" i smooth down the shoulders and then tug on the cuff links. "it's perfectly your style. you don't think so?"

"mm," he looks back down at his own body and shakes out his arms a little. "i guess it is. it's just...different."

"it is different but it's a good different. you're still the same old genius who could go on for hours about mushrooms or doctor who or whatever. so you," i pat his shoulder and go up on my toes to kiss his cheek, "get into a new outfit and show me again, okay?"

spencer agrees and closes the fitting room door. we stay at the store for nearly two hours, picking out and trying on potential outfits. spencer even starts picking items on his own, but he comes to me in the cutest way to ask if i like the things he's picked out. i always do. and even if it's not my favorite piece, he obviously likes it so i tell him i love it.

we spend hundreds and split the bill. i insisted i pay because i was the one who brought him here, but he insisted he pay because the clothes are for him. we found a happy medium.

i don't know what i thought was going to happen after we basically replaced his wardrobe. apparently, i didn't think about what the next work day would be like. because i wake up before spencer and go to make breakfast and only listen to him shower and get dressed.

"good morning!" spencer chirps, practically skipping into the kitchen.

"morning!" i say back, putting pancakes on a plate for him. "here's your—" and i absolutely freeze in my spot at the sight of him in a dark tan jacket and slacks, a purple button up, and a matching gray tie. his hair is perfectly swooped across his forehead and he's grinning, practically glowing in his new outfit. "holy shit."

"you like it?" he holds up his arms a bit as if to gesture to his appearance.

i just stand and stare at him for another minute, clutching the plate in my hand so tightly that i fear i might break it. but spencer chuckles, taking it from me and placing it in front of the chair he always has breakfast in.

"i might not let you out of the house looking this good," i finally manage to say. "you'll come home with a new girl on your arm and forget all about me."

spencer pouts. "i'd never do that to you."

i grab onto his cheeks and lay a huge kiss on his lips. "i know you wouldn't. you look amazing, spence. even better than yesterday."

spencer comes home that night and beams about the compliments he got from his coworkers today and thanks me for encouraging him to expand his wardrobe. i don't accept his thanks because i'm just happy to see him feeling more confident in himself than ever.

however, my job is not done yet.

as much as he loves his new clothes, i give him a few weeks to adjust to his new normal. i let him get used to needing a few extra minutes in the morning to arrange an outfit and to the washing process before i spring something new on him. but once i can tell he's completely comfortable with his new wardrobe, i stop at the department store after work again.

"spence?" i call into the apartment as i kick my shoes off, clutching the paper bag in my hand.

"hi!" he calls back, emerging from the study with a book in his hand. "you're late."

i hold up the bag for proof. "i stopped at the store again." spencer follows me into the bedroom and sits on the edge of the bed in anticipation. "well, first, i saw a couple more ties that i liked," i take those out of the bag and throw them over his shoulder. "but i got these!"

i pull out three perfectly folded pairs of sweatpants and four plain colored tee shirts. spencer unravels each item and then looks up with his eyebrows furrowed. "i don't get it."

"okay," i giggle, placing my hands on his shoulders, "when i go to work, i wear my skirts and blouses and heels, right?"

like the puppy he is, he tilts his head to the side in confusion. "right."

"and when i got to sleep, i wear pajamas. but between the blouse and the pajamas, i wear sweats. you, my love," i boop his nose and instantly, an adorable pink hue paints his cheeks, "don't own sweats. you go from suits to pajamas. and again, i'm not saying that i don't love the way you dress. i'm just looking out for your comfort. if you hate them, i'll return them. simple as that."

he runs his hands over the tee shirts and runs it between his fingers. "they are really soft."

"i got the ones that are 100% cotton because i know you like how it feels."

"i'll try it," he concedes, smiling up at me. "thank you. you're too good to me."

"you deserve the world, angel face."

the next day, he gets called away for a case and i don't see him for almost two weeks. we call and text as much as possible, but we both get so busy that it's nearly impossible. so i stick to sending him good morning and goodnight texts and praying that he comes home in one piece.

after nearly two and a half weeks without him, i come home and see his car in the parking garage where it always is. i squeal, running all the way to the apartment and bursting through the door.

spencer is lounging on the couch, thankfully in one piece, and reading a book, dressed in gray sweatpants and a white tee shirt. he looks up and grins when i enter, standing up and pulling me into his arms.

"i can't believe you're sitting here," i mumble into his neck, "and looking so good when i'm not around."

spencer laughs into my shoulder, kissing my small bit of exposed skin. "well, you're here now so you can enjoy it."

"you look so fucking hot," i blurt out, grabbing a handful of his cotton shirt and tugging him towards the bedroom. "let me show you just how hot i think you are."

"god, i love this new wardrobe."

[samwxlsxon]

worried glances.

summary: You are a tech analyst for the Avengers. After the events of The Winter Soldier, you tracked Bucky down out of curiosity. Your relationship blossomed in secret. Now that Bucky has been arrested by Joint Counter Terrorism, your secret relationship is in jeopardy of being outed.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

word count: 4.2k

warnings: language and bad writing if you count that

sidenote: hi! this is my first fic of any kind so if it sucks, i am truly sorry. it is definitely going to have a part 2, but idk how many parts after that?? i hope you guys like it! any feedback is appreciated :))

read part 2 here!

If you could describe Berlin’s Joint Counter Terrorism Centre, hot certainly would not be in your description. The glass walls and empty spaces allowed for easy flow of air. Like any government building, it was surely freezing. It was the middle of summer so the AC was up full blast.

But you were melting. Your face and ears were burning and you were sure you would melt a hole in the metal handles of the doors when you pushed them aside. You were in a sundress and a light jacket, but you felt like a furnace.

You entered the building behind Tony and you couldn’t help the nerves that had overcome your body. A man, who would later introduce himself as Everett Ross, greeted you as soon as you entered.

“Tony Stark,” Ross shook Tony’s hand and acknowledged you as well. “Glad you decided to come to your senses. The Accords are good work.”

Tony rolled his eyes and responded while looking at your distressed form, “Tell that to blondie and his goon of a friend. And to this one over here. Can we get her some water? I don’t need another medical bill.”

As you were led through the glass halls, you tuned out their conversation and focused on the ringing in your ears.

The Accords had everyone on edge. Tony and Steve had obvious tensions and they seemed to have dragged the rest of the team down as well. It started to become obvious whose side you were on when you refused to attend the signing. You had stayed in New York, making adjustments to online data units just to keep your mind off things. You weren’t much for arguing. Besides, you had slightly bigger problems-- problems that involved a criminal with a metal arm.

To say you had curiosity towards the Winter Soldier was an understatement. So much so, that you managed to stick a micro-tracker to his arm during the fight on the highway two years ago. Steve and Sam chastised you for getting involved, but you didn’t care. The nasty black eye the Winter Soldier had given you was deemed worth it now that you had secured his location. 

The technology was virtually undetectable-- your creation, of course.  You could only notice it if you were looking for it. You knew you needed to keep a tab on him. And when you found out that he was Steve’s long-lost bestie, that only solidified the need to keep him under watch.

But the longer you stared at his location, the more you wanted to find yourself in Bucharest and knock on his door.

You wanted to talk to him, to put the pieces together- to learn about the HYDRA technology he’d seen. It would be a breakthrough. It would finally give the Avengers a boost ahead of the enemy.

You knew Steve would never look your way again if he found out you had this information or if he even knew you were thinking of paying Bucky a visit. But curiosity killed the cat.

So that’s why, a little over a year ago, you showed up on Bucky’s apartment doorstep with a black journal and a nervous smile. You figured you’d give him the journal as a peace offering, hoping that he get some use out of it. You knocked a couple times, but he didn’t even open the door as he told you to go away.

‘So much for hospitality’ you thought. The hot, dry weather made you start to regret wearing jeans. "Um, I don’t know if you remember me,” you crossed your arms and spoke against the door. “But we met in D.C. I’m a friend of Steve’s.”

There was no movement for a couple minutes. Then, you heard clicks coming from the locks and the door creaked open. He stood in front of you with a face that looked far from amused. He looked tired, metal arm mostly covered by a jacket despite the heat. His hair was behind his ears and stubble crept up the sides of his face.

He silently stepped aside, inviting you in. He watched carefully as you entered, shutting and locking the door behind you. The apartment was dark despite the florescent lights hanging from the ceiling. The kitchen area was cluttered with dishes and boxes. The couch was small and the walls were missing chips of paint. The bed on the floor looked like it had seen better days. The apartment looked like someone hadn’t thought of cleaning it for quite some while.

There was a table in the corner next to some shelves and then a singular bathroom. You looked from Bucky to the space. ‘Fitting.’ you thought. At least it matched his style- rugged and confused. You walked further inside and placed the journal on the table, sticking your hands in your pockets.

“What’s that?” he asked gruffly. He eyed the journal and leaned against the front door.

“It’s nothing, really.” You sat down on the chair next to the table and tapped on the cover of the book. “I thought you would like something to write things in. Like the stuff you learn...about yourself, or something.”

The newspaper that covered the windows prevented most light from entering the apartment. The lights on the ceiling were doing minimal to accentuate his features. You really couldn’t tell if he was even showing emotion.

He slowly removed himself from the front door and walked towards you. He was weary to pick up the journal, but when he did, he held it in his hands for a couple seconds and flipped through the blank pages.

“Thank you.” he responded. It was straight to the point. His voice didn’t waver or give any indication of what he was actually thinking. If he completely hated it, you wouldn’t have known.

You nodded and put your hands on your lap, intertwining them. “Yeah no problem.” you breathed, following the statement with an introduction.

“James. But I go by Bucky.” He took a seat in-front of you at the table. He left the journal in the middle of the table and eyed you as he got comfortable. “I know you didn’t come here to give me a journal. So what do you want?”

So then it started. You explained to him your curiosity; your curiosity for him and your desire to help him remember his past. You didn’t dare mention HYDRA. You wouldn’t want him mistaking your interest for something evil.

It quickly turned into a conversation. You asked him how much he remembered and what actually happened to him. You told him about Steve, the Avengers, New York, Ultron, everything. And he was interested. He would occasionally chime into your stories with a comment or a memory that was triggered by something you said. It was the first real conversation Bucky had in over 70 years.

And things sprinted from there. You visited him as often as you could, a couple times a month if things allowed it. You told the team you were out with friends for the weekend or visiting your family at home.

You wired your phone’s GPS to match your made-up location and found yourself at the very door you once wouldn’t even think about knocking on.

Bucky was stoic and downright intimidating, no matter how often you visited. But as you continued to bring him old pictures of Steve or excerpts from military documents at the time of his enlistment, he started to open up.

He started asking you questions about his past-his family. You had done your research on his origins, prepared to tell him everything.

He and Steve grew up in Brooklyn. His parents were Winnipeg and George Barnes. He was an officer in the 107th. You had all this information but you were so hesitant to tell him. You felt like you were robbing Steve of his moment.

You didn’t want to lie to Steve. Ever since D.C. he had longed for his best friend. It broke your heart that you were going behind his back. It felt even worse knowing that it was Steve who was supposed to be sharing these memories with Bucky.

But it was too late to tell him now. The more people that knew about Bucky’s location the riskier it would be. He was a wanted criminal after all.

But when Bucky gave you a look of curiosity and confusion, you knew he had been through enough pain to be withheld an answer. He would drink up the answers you gave him, engraving them into his memory. Every new discovery would be written in his journal.

Slowly, he began to anticipate your arrival and dread your departure. You were his first real friend in decades.

And so it went on for months. The visits and the talks. You were too intrigued to leave him alone, and at this point, you don’t think you could leave him if you tried. Slowly that friendship began to escalate. You would spend nights in his apartment instead of at the Marriott down the street. You would sleep on the couch. It was not the most comfortable sleep of your life, but you didn’t dare take the bed. He didn't deserve more discomfort.

He would greet you with a smile and a hug when you would arrive. Although the hug was brief and hesitant, it was a start. You would go on walks throughout the city and he would point out the Romanian architecture. He would teach you bits of Romanian and Russian. Common words like ‘coffee’ or ‘restroom’.

It would keep you both occupied. He would never admit it out loud, but he was grateful for your company. Loneliness and his trauma didn’t mix well.

It was like someone had taken your relationship, once so distant and weary, and turned it completely upside down.

Something as trivial as an accidental brush of his hand on yours as you reached for a french fry at dinner would stay in your mind for hours. You would lay next to him as he hesitantly wrapped his human arm around you, too scared about the unpredictability of his metal one.

He would tell you stories from his childhood involving Steve and you would laugh at the amount of times that man had found himself in alley fights.

Eight months into the visits, your relationship took a turn. You stood inside of his apartment about to leave for the airport. He had grabbed your hand and turned you to look him.

You were close. So close that you could see your reflection in his beautiful blue eyes. After a moment of staring, you did the only thing fitting at the time. You leaned in and kissed him.

He was so shocked, he didn’t move. It had been years since he had any amicable human interaction. His days had been filled with torture and pain. To see you treat him with such care and understanding made him question everything. You helped him remember.

Realizing that he wasn’t reciprocating, you pulled back, apologizing profusely. You had ruined everything. As you made another attempt for the door, he grabbed you and kissed you again. It felt right. It felt comforting. His lips molded with yours like they were peices of a puzzle; like they belonged together.

It was as if he was communicating to you all the longing and ache that was inside him all this time. Longing for affection.

So here you are, exactly six months from the kiss. The kiss eventually turned into more kisses. Those turned into feelings. He was different around you. A good different. Happy.

It became an unspoken relationship. You two obviously cared for each other. No one ever found out, no one ever could find out, especially not Steve.

If anyone discovered you had formed a secret relationship with a wanted Soviet criminal, you would be in more trouble than you cared to see yourself in.

The Avengers never really saw eye-to-eye with anyone trying to impose on them. They were independent, autonomous. But now, things were different. Tony, Rhodey, Vision, Nat.

They all agreed that the Avengers were overdue for some checks. That allowed an outlet for world governments to ease their way into putting the Avengers in their place.

When you got a call from Natasha saying something along the lines of Steve and Sam arrested, bomb at the signing, and Winter Soldier, you were on a plane to Berlin in a heartbeat.

With half of the Avengers teamed up with the government, Steve and Sam had no choice but to surrender. The Avengers were splitting.

So yeah, you were nervous. With Bucky on max-security lockdown, he would be just one question away from outing your relationship. While you never think he would, a slip-up could make you lose your job; a slip-up could have you arrested.

Ross led you and Tony to a glass office in the middle of a control center. Sharon was already inside and gave you a small wave as you made eye contact.

“You can wait in here until they arrive. Rogers and Wilson have had their gear impounded. I’ll make sure you get a copy receipt of what was taken.” Ross gave you a nod and turned to an agent beside him, ordering her to give Tony the write-up of the suits.

Tony’s ringtone made you turn your head. “It’s the Secretary. Shit. Go inside, I need to take this.” He sighed, pinched his noise, and walked towards a quieter area.

You turned around and opened the door to the office. There was a TV hanging from the ceiling. It was playing news coverage from Vienna.

‘Jesus,’ you thought. You sat down in-front of Sharon and gave her a worried look. The chair squeaked as you leaned back.

“What the hell happened?” You bit your finger nail and waited for her answer.

“A bomb went off at the signing. Large casualties. Killed the king of Wakanda. Security cameras caught Barnes on the scene. He’s the main suspect. The clean up for this is going to be insane.” She shook her head, thinking of the amount of press calls she would have to take after this was over.

You were speechless. How could it have been Bucky if he hadn’t left Bucharest in months? You had removed the tracker from his arm and apologized a long time ago, but he surely would’ve told you if he was planning on leaving, incase you came to visit.

She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “Steve and Wilson tracked down Barnes. They insisted on bringing him in instead of authorities. And look where that got them.”

Now that peaked your interest. “How did they find him? Steve has been looking for him for months.”

“They got a tip, I guess.” You noticed something in her voice when she spoke. She was too quick to answer and it sounded rushed, like she wanted to gloss over the topic.

“Next thing we know all four of them are beating ass in a public highway. Lots of damage, but what’s new.” She gave you a dry laugh.

“Four? Who else was there?” You asked.

“T’Challa. Wakandan. He’s the kings son.” She paused. “Well, king now. He has a superhero gimmick of his own. They call him Black Panther. Seems like everybody’s got a toy these days.” She rolled her eyes.

You were about to say something when there was a knock on the glass wall. Ross was standing there signaling for Sharon to come out.

“They’re here. Stay and I’ll be back.” She got up and left the office. As she opened the door you could hear the commotion going on outside. Phones ringing and people talking. Ross’s voice barking orders made you chuckle.

You stared at the TV for a moment. A reporter stood in-front of the rubble and spoke. It was muted so you couldn’t hear what he was saying.

You thought back to what Sharon had said. A tip. Someone else knew where Bucky had been. That meant that they most likely saw you coming and going from his apartment. He was being tracked. He was being watched.

“Fuck.” You mumbled. You leaned your head back to stare at the ceiling.

You were an idiot. Of course he was being watched. He’s a ninety-something super soldier that worked as a brainwashed killing machine for Soviet Inc. since god-knows-when. To think anyone even let him get away was crazy.

You began to think of Bucky. He cannot catch a god damn break. After the time you’d spent with him, you couldn’t picture why people saw him as a threat.

“Well maybe the part where he’s killed people.” you mumbled while you put your face in your hands. He was so different around you- caring and gentle, nothing like the man who had once punched you in the face.

You spun around in your chair a couple times. You wondered how he was feeling. A pang in your chest hit you as you thought of him being carried away like a killer.

Mid-spin you spotted Tony and Steve walking towards the office. You stopped yourself and let your body adjust to the slight dizziness. No sign of Bucky. Of course not.

You bit back a worried look as they entered through the door. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until you opened your mouth.

“Biggest idiot award goes to you, you idiot. Emphasis on stupid.” You got up and gave Steve a slap on the shoulder. He probably didn’t even feel it.

Feeling slightly bad for the slap, you engulfed him in a tight embrace. He chuckled and hugged you back, having to bend at the waist a little to match your height. “Compromise. I’ll leave all the idiot with you next time.”

You pulled away and glared at him. You weren’t necessarily a mean person, so you hadn’t had much practice in the art of menace. The glare was futile. Hopefully he got the message.

“She’s right.” Tony sighed as he sat down in the chair you had just gotten up from. “You made things worse. So much worse. What the hell were you thinking? I had calmed Ross down about the whole Accords signing for now. He was so close to giving you more time. Well, if you thought the Secretary was on my ass before, you should see him now. He wants you and Wilson prosecuted, Steve. And I don’t think I can get you out of this one.”

You shot Tony another of your infamous looks of concern. “Prosecuted? Now that’s a bit much. Tony he barely did anything wrong.”

He scoffed. “Barely? Captain Righteous chased a wanted national criminal and Soviet assassin through a highway in a country he’s not even from. There was fighting. There was damage. Not to mention the sweet media blowup this is all going to get.

“I told you we needed checks. You cannot decide where you want to exert your power. The Accords, Steve. This isn’t a free for all.”

Steve rolled his eyes and started walking around the space. “I understand that Tony. You-.”

“No!” Tony’s hand slammed on the table, making you jump and rest back against the glass wall. “I don’t think you do understand.” Steve stopped walking and looked at him.

“You are not understanding the true consequences of your actions here. For too long you, we, the Avengers, have caused chaos all around the world without so much as a slap on the wrist. No consequences. No repercussions. We think in our own self-interest.

“And just to show how little you’ve learned, you get yourself involved in an arrest that no one asked you to meddle with! You need to be checked, Rogers.” Tony rested his hand on his mouth.

Steve slowly sat down in-front of him and spoke, “We help people,Tony. As much as we don’t want to, there will always be casualties. We do it our way because our way works. We will be limited under the hand of the government if we let them control us. We take risks for the better of the people. Sometimes our judgement is the best judgement because we train for things like this. Under order of a third party we give up our right to decide.

“Bucky is my best friend.” Your stomach flipped when you heard his name. “He doesn’t deserve to be locked in here like an animal. He was brainwashed- tortured. HYDRA kept him for years as a pawn in one of their sick experiments. I’d be damned if it wasn’t me who brought him in.” He intertwined his hands on the table.

Tony pushed his chair back from the desk to give him room to lean back. “You’re not allow-” he started.

“Is he okay?” You spoke quietly from against the wall.

Both heads snapped towards you. Tony gave you a funny look, probably wondering why you even bothered asking.

Steve turned his chair slightly towards you, silently thankful for an escape from the argument.

“For now. He isn’t hurt or anything, but they have him locked up. They’re giving him a psych eval and then shipping him off.” He looked down and shook his head.

You bounced off the wall. “They’re moving him? Where? Why not just try him here?” You crossed your arms and got closer to the table.

“I don’t know.” Steve shrugged. “He has pending warrants in like 3 other countries. Not to mention he is accused of killing a Wakandan king. He’s going there first. And he never really committed a crime in Berlin so he had no reason to stay.”

“So much for keeping an eye on him. ‘M sorry, Stevie.” You muttered and gave him a sad look. He nodded and gave you a small smile in return.

In reality, you weren’t sad. Not sad, but angry. You had no right to be. He was wanted. He had to go through trial. You were mad at HYDRA. You were mad that those slimy motherfuckers put him through all this. They crafted him to be a perfect weapon but didn’t think of the consequences on his life.

Tony was about to speak up when Sharon and Sam entered the office.

“Bird costume? C’mon.” Sam exclaimed, trailing behind Sharon.

She rolled her eyes and walked to the table and picked up the TV remote. “Shut up, I didn’t write it.”

Grumbling, Sam sat down next to Steve after shoving the paper in his pocket.

Sharon gave Steve a quick look and pressed a button on the remote. She changed the channel on the TV. The news network from before now gone and replaced with live footage. Live footage from inside Bucky’s cell.

Well, if you could call it a cell. It was more like a block. A block with wrist and ankle cuffs and glass that looked like clear cement. He couldn’t escape if he wanted to.

Your jaw dropped and you let out a small gasp.

“His evaluation should start in about twenty minutes. I’ll leave this up here for you. Just don’t go blabbing that you saw this, please.” She gave you all a pleading look. Everyone nodded but Steve. He was too busy staring at Bucky through the screen.

Again, you felt the guilt in your chest from keeping the tracker secret from Steve.

Sam let out a low whistle. “They weren’t kidding about the security, huh.”

A small smile crept on Tony’s face but he didn’t look up from his phone. Steve silently got up and walked up close to the TV. He sat against the table, his eyes never leaving the screen.

You tried to not let your face give away your emotions. Bucky looked lonely. You wanted to touch him. Hold him. Tell him that everything was going to be okay. But those were empty promises because everything was absolutely, most definitely, not okay.

You were about to lose the man you loved to a jail cell for who-knows how long and there wasn’t anything you could do about it. Kinda fucking blows.

You had to casually rub your eye in order to stop the tears that were about to flow freely down your cheeks.

But the footage was short lived. Sharon saw two agents approach the office door and immediately changed the TV back. You wondered why she was so picky about that, seeing as the walls were made of glass.

Wondering why the channel was changed, Steve whipped around fast enough to see the agents walk in through the door. You rested your finger tips on the side of the table and picked at the wooden edge, too entrapped in your thoughts to truly process their entrance.

However, you turned around slowly as they addressed you.

The agent on the right was taller than the other. He looked important. They both did. While the rest of the agents in the building were dressed in casual business wear, these two wore suits. When you were walking through, you had only noticed suits on people like Ross- it signaled importance in your eyes.

When you didn’t respond, the tall one called your name again. Now everyone was paying attention. Tony had set his phone down and eyed them carefully.

“Yeah?” You protectively crossed your arms and stood up straighter.

This time, the shorter one spoke. “Ma’am, if you could please come with us. We would like to ask you some questions regarding Mr. Barnes.”

And your heart stopped.

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

i hope you guys liked it! lmk if you want to be added to the tag list for my future fics. any critiques or comments you guys have are always welcomed :) requests are open xoxo

[addictofsupernatural]

OHSHC Rewrite: Episode 1

Starting Today, You Are a Host!

Host Club x reader

Summary: Y/n meets new people and fall into a whole new world.

Warning: mentions of past trauma

Word Count: 4.4k

Episode Masterlist

Nerve wracking. This was very nerve wracking. It was one thing to go to a school full of rich people, but it was another for it to be in a different country. Though you felt nervous, this was a giant step into a new life.

You had highlights dyed in your hair for a while now, but didn't know if the school allowed it, so you hid it up in a beanie with only your bangs peaking out. You also didn't know if they allowed crop tops, which was what you had on right now due to your unattended laundry, so you put a big sweater on to hide that as well.

Everyone stared at you. You expected nothing less, considering you weren't wearing a school uniform. You kept your head low and your mouth shut, though it was starting to bother you to have all those eyes on you for no reason. It's rude to stare.

After school you wanted to find a quiet place to study. All three of the huge libraries were noisy, for some reason, so you ventured into trying to find an empty room. There was a music room that looked uninhabited, so you opened the door.

"Welcome to the Ouran Host Club."

A gush of wind came and you stepped inside to see 6 guys standing there, greeting you.

"Oh." One of the twins said. "It's just a guy."

"Host Club?" You quietly asked. "Um, I'm sorry! I didn't know this place was occupied. Sorry."

You turned and reached for the handle, only for both twins to lean on each of your shoulders.

"You said sorry twice." The said in unison.

"I'll just leave now—"

"You must be the foreign honor student, Mr. Y/l/n."

You looked back at the boy with the glasses giving you a small smile. "I'll ignore the Mr part for now, but how did you know my name?"

The tall blonde one gasped. "You're the exceptional honor student from y/c?!"

"It's quiet interesting seeing a commoner with the audaciousness to come here." The guy with glasses said.

"Commoner?" You repeated, taking in the name.

"You should feel lucky." He continued. It did do injustice for your nerves to hear that, but you tried to not let the innocently rude words effect you.

"So lucky." You sighed.

The blonde man rushed over to you and slung his arm over your shoulder. "I think it's wonderful for a commoner such as yourself to come and study us. It'll set an example for other commoners and you'll be a hero to all of them. Long live the poor!"

"Am I supposed to not find all of this offensive?" You asked as you ducked out of his arm.

That's when a small boy jumped onto you, causing you to instinctively catch him. While in your arms he could feel your hidden breasts against his head, which made him the second person in the room to catch on.

"Wow, y/l/n huh? That's a really weird last name. I like it though, it's interesting. I hope we can be friends from now! "You were honestly confused at to why there was a little boy here, so you gently ruffled his hair and put him down.

"That'd be nice." You sweetly said. "What are you doing here?"

"Huh. Who knew the honor student would be so openly gay?" The blonde man shrugged.

"What?" You asked, though you were ignored again.

"So then, which would you prefer?" He pulled your arm to each of the boys. "Is it the strong, silent type? The loli-shota type? The mischievous devils? The cool type?" He got extremely close and grabbed your chin, whispering, "Or maybe you'd like me."

You jerked yourself back, walking backwards as the twins and the blonde were walking towards you. "Please don't get so close when I don't even know you! I'll leave you all be now—"

You bumped into a table, and a vase fell and shattered as a result. "Now you've done it commoner." Said the twin with the higher voice. "That was a Renaissance vase."

"We were gonna sell that at the auction. The bidding was going to start at 8 million yen." Explained the other.

"8 mi..." Your voice was barely a whisper as you looked at the shattered glass. You then began to internally panic, causing words to just spew out. "Oh my gosh okay okay I am so so sorry I should've expected something like this cause of my luck and it's just like me to be a screw up and–" you let out a deep breath before scrunching up your nose and turning to them. "I need to pay you back."

"With what money?" The twins said.

"Holy crap this is bad." You began shaking your leg. "Okay, what do I do then?"

"Well Tamaki, what do you think we should do?" The glasses guy asked, still giving you a small smile.

"There's an old saying that we should all live by! When in Rome, do as the Romans do."

"I'm in rich territory, does that mean I need to do as the rich people do?" You asked, being unconsciously sarcastic.

He chose to ignore you and go on. "Since you don't have any money, you will have to pay us back with your body!"

"Can you please rephrase that—"

"Starting today, you are the host club's dog boy!"

It all happened so fast, and next thing you knew you were coming back from the store with their grocery items. Was this going to be hell? When you got back, you thought about the club while walking in the halls. It was their job to make women happy. That probably meant you would have to put on a brave smile.

"Hey there, little piglet. Did you get everything on our list?" Tamaki senpai smiled at you.

Brave face. "Yup, everything you asked for sir." You smiled brightly.

His eyes widened, and he zoomed over to you to pull you into a crushing hug. "Aww, you're too adorable!"

"Please let go!"

"Why? I'm not done hugging you yet!"

"I don't..." You looked around for help. "Mori senpai! Help me please!"

He made eye contact with you before swooping in and picking you up. You clung to him out of panic. Why would anyone smother strangers like that?

Mori senpai let out an inaudible gasp. He was now the third person who figured it out. "Uh, Mori senpai," Tamaki said. "Don't you think that was a little much?"

"No." He said, putting you down.

"Thank you." You said sweetly. He nodded and went back.

"Wait, doggo," Tamaki called to you, picking up the grocery bag. "What's this?"

"Just what it looks like. Coffee." You said as you walked over to him. "And I have a name."

"I've never seen coffee like this before." He ignored you again as he sat down on a couch.

"Are those the ones where it already has the beans grounded up for you?" Kaoru asked.

"No, it's instant coffee." You said.

"It's... Instant?" Some girls asked.

"Wait a minute, I've seen this before!" Tamaki widened his eyes. "It's commoner's coffee! They don't have time to make it themselves so they use this and it magically appears."

Someone watching this quietly asked, "Commoners don't have time to ground their own coffee?"

"Why is everybody staring?" You asked before sighing. "Nevermind. If you want I'll go back and buy a more expensive brand. Sorry."

"No no, let's keep it." The whole crowd gasped. "I think I'll try it." Another gasp. "I'm going to drink this coffee!" Everybody began clapping. "Y/l/n~ this coffee won't make itself~"

"I guess that's my cue." You said to yourself.

"Wait, commoner," Hikaru said.

"What's up with that ugly outfit?" Kaoru asked. "Can you not afford a school uniform?"

You giggled. "Do I look someone who can afford a school uniform?" They giggled again. "I'm used to public schools, so I wore a random shirt. I don't know if it fits this school's standards though." The twins heard your giggle, and we're now also figured it out. "I've actually been meaning to ask, is there a rule against dyed hair?"

"Dyed hair? No." Kaoru said.

"Oh good," you sighed. "Cause I have some highlights."

"Then what about your shirt?" Hikaru asked.

"It's a crop."

"A crop?" The twins asked in unison.

"Come to think of it," Kyoya spoke up. "Nobody ever asked you what your first name is."

You took off your beanie and let your hair down. You then took off your sweater and put it on top of your bag in the corner.

"It's y/n. Y/n y/l/n." You then walked over as everybody remained silent. "Thank you Kyoya senpai. Nobody else actually cared about my name. Means a lot." You smiled.

"Of course, now it's time to go make the coffee."

"Yes sir." You made it while everybody else remained silent. Tamaki couldn't take it anymore, and exploded.

"You're a girl?!" He barked.

"Yeah?"

"Why would you hide that?!"

"I wasn't trying to, and you shouldn't treat someone different because of that either way." You then turned to everyone else. "Coffee's done. Time for me to get back to work."

"But–but—"

"Tamaki, we still have guests to entertain." Kyoya reminded. He shook out of it and began flirting again, and you took this as an opportunity to start with your other chores. You began to clean up some plates and tea cups as everybody fussed over the coffee.

"Oh Tamaki, you've taken the joke too far. You have a delicate taste, your pallet can't stomach that crap. It's obvious you're just doing it to please her." You looked over to a very pretty girl, sipping her tea. "Oh, I'm sorry. I was just talking to myself."

"Of course ma'am. Would you care for any more food or drinks?" You quietly asked.

"No, you can leave now." You smiled and nodded, walking away with a bad feeling about that girl.

You were then cleaning up the coffee cups, watching other girls become fascinated with it. As you cleaned up they stopped to look at you. "Oh, you're the commoner honor student right?" One asked.

"Yup. Did you ladies enjoy the coffee?"

"Very much so. It did not taste poorly, and it was surprising to see how quick it was to make."

"Well, us commoners are always in a hurry to keep up with our bills." They giggled, though you didn't realize you were being funny. "Anyways, I'm glad I got to share my poorness with you."

The giggled again. "You're so funny y/n."

"Thank you. It's sweet of you not to call me a dog." You said, grinning afterwards. "And wow I never thought I'd say that."

They giggled again. "Are you enjoying Ouran Academy?"

"Hell yeah, it's awesome! Who knew there can be so many buildings in a building!"

"You have an interesting way of speaking." One laughed out.

"Well I didn't think so until I got to a whole different country. I totally forgot about the whole bowing to people thing when I left y/c. We don't do that there."

"Oh my goodness, really?!"

"Yeah, you have no idea—"

"Y/n, Honey senpai spilled." Hikaru called out. "Come and clean it."

"Oh, I have to go. It was nice talking to you ladies." You then hurried over there.

They then went back to their hosts. "What were you all talking about?" Tamaki asked one girl.

"Not much, just talking." She said. "It was very fun and pleasant."

"I wish we could've talked more." Another girl said.

"She's coming by." The third girl tried to say quietly.

"Y/n, come over here." Tamaki said. As you walked over his eyes ventured down to your opening stomach. "I heard you had quiet the chat with some ladies."

"Yup, I thought it was a very nice little talk." You said, smiling at them.

He grabbed you and crushed you into a hug again. "Your smile is so cute! You need to learn how to be more girly! Now promise me you won't wear any more of those dirty poor boy clothes."

"First of all, personal space please! Second, those clothes are comfy. And crop tops aren't for dirty boys."

"That's debatable." Tamaki murmered and blushed.

"Y'know, we think it looks pretty cute." The twins said against your shoulders.

"See? Hikaru and Kaoru aren't judging me on how I look." You hugged each of them at their side. They then both blushed out of surprise, not that you noticed.

"Don't trust those shady twins! They just want to take advantage of you." He then grabbed you back, nuzzling up against your cheek. "You know what, why don't you two make yourselves useful and grab an appropriate school uniform for my little girl."

"Little girl?" You asked, pushing him back a bit.

"Of course! We're a family after all, and now you're my little girl!"

"That's weird." He then suddenly started sulking in the corner, to which you felt bad about. You went over to him and sat on the floor next to him. "I'm sorry if I made you upset. I'm actually glad that friendship is that important to you. It's not often you still see that, and I'm happy to be a part of it."

His eyes began to shine. "Do you really think so?!"

"Sure!"

"Aww, you're so cute!" He squished your cheeks.

"Uh, boss." Kaoru said.

"The female uniforms were still in the process of being made, so all they had were male uniforms." Hikaru explained.

"Oh, that's actually better for me." You said. "I'm not much for dresses." You then took the outfit and went to the changing room to put it on. You came out without the blazer, the tie being loose, and the top button being undone. "Are you sure I can keep this?"

"Well the tailoring was messed up so they were gonna throw it away." Kaoru explained.

"Oh, perfect." You smiled.

"No, not perfect!" Tamaki popped up in front of you. "WHY WON'T YOU WEAR FEMALE CLOTHING?!"

"Are you trying to say I don't look good in these clothes?" You teased.

"Wha– noo~" His eyes began to tear up. "I never said that!"

"So you were thinking it."

"I WASN'T THINKING THAT AT ALL! Please y/n, I think you're beautiful, I swearr~"

You began giggling. "Senpai, I'm just teasing. I understand that you didn't mean that at all. It's okay."

He gave you puppy dog eyes. "Really?"

"Sure." You said lightheartedly. You wanted to ruffle his hair from how much of a puppy he was acting like.

"Then why would you tease me like that?" More puppy dog eyes.

"If I'm staying the Host Club's dog until I graduate, I might as well have fun while being here." The twins were busy laughing on the ground, while everybody else watch you two. Nobody could make Tamaki like that except for Kyoya.

"She's so funny." A girl mumbled.

You patted Tamaki's shoulders. "Straighten up senpai. You still have an audience waiting."

"She's right you know." Kyoya said. He then happily sighed. "Okay everyone, back to work."

You wheeled around the tea, hearing someone whisper, "She's coming."

You stopped and smiled, furrowing your eyebrows. "What?"

"Nothing, just that you don't react normally to Tamaki. No one has ever made him flustered like that before."

"Not only that." Another girl said. "You just seem so fun. It's like you don't give a care in the world. We're not used to people being so care free, so it's very fun."

"That's very sweet to hear. It's nice that you guys all care about whatever I ramble on about." You poured them all tea. "Maybe I should be a host too. I could tell stories and we could all hang out."

"That'd be very pleasant." One said as the other two nodded.

The red headed girl from earlier laughed. "How sweet of you three to make her feel good about herself. She seems like a person who needs to be praised."

"That was a little harsh Ayanokoji." One of them said.

They all looked at you frowning, but you didn't want them to pity you. You mustered up a smile. "More tea ma'am?"

"No, that'll be all. You can leave." She smiled as she sipped on her tea.

"Of course." You then walked away.

Kyoya heard everything. You passed by him, frowning and looking downward. "You mentioned being a host. It's an interesting notion, in it's own way."

"Don't worry Kyoya senpai, I know my place."

He didn't look back at you, only staring at his notebook. "Your place, huh."

"Would you care for anything?" You asked.

"Just some answers." He continued to write in his book. "What do you consider your 'place'?"

You chuckled. "Not here. I know how lucky I am to be here, and that I shouldn't push it. Especially after breaking something."

"I see. Well, I do like your suggestion of being a host." This gained the attention of Tamaki.

You had your back to him as you cleaned up a table. "I was joking."

"Yes, but most people seem to enjoy hearing you talk. It'll help gain money for your debt."

Tamaki flipped and landed right in front of you. "Why would you do that?! Don't tell me you're not interested in men?!"

"I didn't say I wasn't. I just think that these girls might also have fun by laughing and not just being flustered. Having someone to talk to can be refreshing."

His eyes began to sparkle again. "This could work! Having more females could get you in touch with your feminine side. Starting tomorrow, you are a host!"

The next day you were sitting on a couch with the three other girls you talked to yesterday with you. "So y/n, what was your life like before you came to Japan?"

"Oh, you guys don't really wanna hear about my boring life, do you?" You leaned back on the cushion. "I thought we could talk about you ladies."

"We're actually very intrigued by you. We all want to know more about your life."

"Yeah, it seems like you lived in a whole other world."

You grinned, looking around. "Well, this does feel like another world. It feels like a dream come true."

"Were you poor?" Someone blankly asked.

A few people turned around to listen in. You chuckled. "Yes. For a commoner, I was on the more poor side."

"You mean there's a poorer side?"

You chuckled again. "Yup. Instead of commoners, we like to call ourselves middle class. Or at least in y/c we were. There were those who had not bad jobs with not bad incomes, and there were others who actually struggled maintaining enough money to get by."

People began to stop talking and began listening in. "What were your parents then?"

You kept your smile on your face, but stared out the window. "My dad was a lazy asshole who never worked a day in his life, but I guess he didn't seem that way when my mom met him. My mom was an honest and hard working accountant. She used to say that he was nicer to her, sweeter, and not a lot of people were kind to women where she lived. She told me she thought he could make her happy."

They all listened intensely. Even Kyoya stopped writing, and watched you from his side view. You looked over the the three girls. You weren't used to having people really listening to you, but it did feel surprisingly nice. Like the weight on your chest was being lifted little by little.

"What happened?"

"It wasn't until she was pregnant with me when she realized it was all a lie. And it wasn't until after I was born when he showed her that he loved alcohol. He was angry when he drank, and he always drank. Mom got sick when I was about 6, and by that time being angry turned into being violent."

"Did he ever hurt you or your mom?" You looked her in the eyes, and she gasped, knowing the answer. You didn't answer that question.

"A few months later she passed, and I ran away the same day."

"Where did you go?"

You kept your voice steady and calm. "I was living in the streets. Stole from this liquor store to eat. The woman who owned the shop caught me, but she wasn't mad. She invited me into her apartment, fed me, bought me new clothes. She's good to me."

"Did you keep living with her?"

You nodded. "She called the cops on my dad before putting me into the foster system and becoming my new mother the right way. Took a few months before she could foster me, but she didn't hesitate to fill everything out and put down her name for a daughter."

"What happened after that?"

"I worked at her liquor store, made some friends, found out I was really good at learning things in school. Then I saw that there was an opportunity to go to a prestigious school in Japan. After seeing a lot of injustice in the neighborhood I lived in, I decided that I wanted to be a lawyer. So I studied, learned Japanese, and when I got in Maria sold the liquor store and we moved here."

"Maria?"

"My second mother. The one who adopted me."

"I see. So you came here with her then?"

"Of course. We wouldn't abandon each other." You turned to them and smiled. "It's nice to know when you're wanted."

The three of them were in tears. "That's so sad." One said.

"Oh, no no no, don't be sad girls. It's fine, honestly! I'm happy that I found a new family, and I'm happy for being here. I don't like tears, so please don't cry for me. It makes me sad."

The three of them smothered you with a hug. "WE'LL KEEP SMILING FOR YOU Y/N!"

You giggled. "Thanks girls." You then looked around. "Has everybody been listening in?"

"No!" You heard from the twins. Everybody quickly turned away from you.

"Well that's very embarrassing. Thanks guys." You blushed and looked down. Tamaki pulled you away and gently grabbed your arms.

"Y/n, listen to me. I promise you that we will do our best to make you feel as comfortable as possible." You were going to answer, but you noticed something when you looked out the window. "What's wrong?"

"My stuff..." You frowned. "I'll be right back."

You ran outside to get your things. Your bag was thrown into a lake. As you ran you saw that princess, Ayanokoji. She gave you a side eye, and something told you to stop running.

"Oh, it's you." You didn't look back, and neither did she. "You can charm everybody with your words, but I hope you know that to Tamaki you'll always be a second class citizen."

You said nothing as you kept running. Once you got to the lake you took off your shoes and socks, rolling up your pants and going in to fish out your stuff. What you couldn't find was your wallet. That would be good money gone to waste.

"You've got some nerve running out on me." Tamaki said, watching you. "Hey, why are your items all wet?"

"Oh, it's nothing. I'm just looking for my wallet. You can go back, I'll be there in a bit." You didn't notice him take off his socks and shoes until he got in as well. "What're you doing?"

"Helping you look."

"But you'll get all wet." You felt bad for making him do this.

"A little water never hurt anybody." You stopped what you were doing you watch him. "Besides, people are always telling me I'm dripping with good looks. Oh, I think we got something here." He showed you your wallet, though you just kept staring at him. "Why are you staring at me?" He then smiled. "You're not falling for me~ are you?"

You scoffed and smiled, grabbing your wallet from his hands. "You wish."

"By the way, how did your things end up in the pond?"

"Don't worry about it, let's just go back to the club."

Later that day, to your dismay, Princess Ayanokoji requested you. You politely asked her what she wanted to talk about, and she asked about you digging through the pond.

"I see, that must be terrible. I don't know what I'd have done if my bag got thrown into there." She then chuckled. "And you even got Tamaki to dig through that dirty lake water. Impressive."

"I don't see what's so impressive about it." You shrugged. "I suppose he's just a nice person who'd do that for people."

"You know it's just a little obsession with you. You're new and exciting, but pretty soon Tamaki will lose interest. I mean really, you're just another pretty face."

You frowned, looking into your tea cup. "Jealousy can make a beautiful face very ugly, don't you think?"

She widened her eyes before pushing the table to the ground, causing tea to spill on your lap, and slapped you in the face. "How dare you?! Someone help me, the commoner tried to steal my bracelet! Somebody do something!" The twins said nothing as the dumped water on her. "W...why did you do that?"

Tamaki pulled her up and into his arms. "Ayanokoji, I'm disappointed in you. You were the one you put y/n's bag in the pond, weren't you?"

"You don't know that!" She angrily said. "Do you have any proof that I did?!"

He sighed. "You're a beautiful woman Ayanokoji, but you aren't classy enough to be our guest. If it's one thing I know, it's that y/n isn't that kind of woman."

As she ran away crying, Kyoya handed you a girl's school uniform. "Since you got tea on your uniform. I know you wouldn't prefer a dress, but it's what we have, and it's better than a wet outfit."

"Yeah, thanks senpai."

You went into the changing room, putting on the dress. You were thankful for it being long. You didn't want anybody to the scars. You stared at yourself in the mirror, wondering if you looked okay. You sucked up the doubts and went out.

All the club members turned to look at you. Tamaki stared at you. "Y/n... wearing a... dress?"

"Senpai!" You walked over to Tamaki, taking his hands. "I forgot to say thank you for helping me find my wallet. I thought you were really cool today."

Tamaki's face then began to redden as you smiled.

---

Author's Note: Please comment and let me know if you liked it. I really want to keep this going and make fillers of my own.

AN #2: Also just ask if you want to be tagged in future stuff.

[madi2112]

Madi's Meanderings. vol. 6

With 2 days off and the threat of idol time on my hands I decided to take Mitze and I out of town for a quick trip.

This time it was off to Clearwater and the West Coast of Florida.

2 rounds of golf, an overnight hotel stay and a dinner on the water will, hopefully, keep me from spiraling into the depression zone.

So I got up early. Loaded up my car (Mitze) and hit the highway.

This mornings golf was at Cove Cay on the water. I haven't really played any seaside golf courses so this one fit the bill nicely.

Plus the price was right!

One of the many things I love about golf is getting to put together nice outfits (like I need golf to enjoy doing that)

This time I based my day one ensemble on some Nike golf shoes I recently uncovered in an old suitcase.

They were beige, brown and white. I did change the laces to pink though.

After checking in at the pro shop I hit a small bucket of range balls to get the golf muscles moving.

Everything looked good until I stepped to the first tee and took one last practice swing. Then all off a sudden my shoes came completely disassembled!

Not just a little. But totally!

I ran out to my car where the shoes I had matched for tomorrow's outfit were still packed.

I guess 6 years being packed away didn't agree with them.

Now what though?

Throw them out? Find something strong enough to hold them together again? Get out the hot glue gun?

I continued the round with uncoordinating shoes but that didn't take away from the location.

Cove Cay was lovely! The opposite of my last round.

The rough was just right. The fairways nice and greens smooth (but speedy).

Plus great views of the water!

My short game was good and helped keep my errant driver from pushing my score too high. I shot +11.

I then planned a sunset dinner at the Salt Shack on the Bay.

But after checking into the hotel I took an unexpectedly long nap and missed the sunset.

Now it became an evening dinner at the Salt Shack on the Bay. LOL

Guess my body needed the rest!

The Jamaican Jerk Burger was very good and you can never go wrong with Key Lime Pie. My second favorite pie (behind Lemon Meringue)

The shirt I'm wearing is a custom one I had made listing the couples from my favorite podcast. The Lesbian Romantic.

I orginally wore it the night I got it after work at Disney Springs.

I even sent a message and the picture to the podcast creator Sigrid (who is awesomely friendly) and she loved it!

The evening did end on a sad note though. My friend Heather, whom I visited in Denver in April, and talk to regularly, lost a long time friend of hers to suicide.

She was shaken up quite a bit (can't blame her) and was feeling so helpless over not seeing the warning signs.

I assured her that those of us who suffer from soul crushing depression get very good at hiding it. So there really wasn't anything she could have done. Still she took it hard.

Didn't take long to fall asleep at all as another tee time was waiting for me the next morning.

This time at Lansbrook Golf Club.

This was nice, not on par with Cove Cay but nice.

I played great at times. My driver was great, but just 24 hours after my short game saved me this time it let me down. I shot +14. Including a picture perfect birdie on the 450 yd par 5. Driver, 2 hybrid, full pitching wedge to 6' and made the putt!

I was in good spirits and was doing well at keeping the mood positive.

Until I was walking off the course to my car.

A father and his 8 year old son were loading up thier golf cart to go play. One regular size set of clubs one kid sized set.

Just like Cameron and I once did.

The memories of Cam and I came flooding back and I was overcome with emptiness and sorrow.

I sat in my car alone crying. Until I was out of tears and out of breathe.

I miss my family so much.

It hurts so much so often.

And no matter how much I try to keep my mind busy something always triggers me.

Always...

~Madison

[dp-pastandpresent]

Past and Present: Chapter 11

'Sarah lives with Sam's family! But of course, she's if she's still alive she must be getting up there. Needing someone to watch after her...'

If ghosts needed sleep, Danny wouldn't be getting a wink of it. Instead he was on top of the music store, listening to the faint hum of a local band playing cover songs from below, contemplating his next move.

While it had seemed like a good idea to find and approach Sarah earlier that day, now that he knew how close he was, he wasn't so sure.

He and Sam had shared some really personal stuff that afternoon, things even Danny didn't know he remembered until those moments.

'My mom used to bake the best cookies. Man I miss those…'

Was it worth the risk of betraying Sam's trust just so he could get a little closure?

'Danny, stop. You need to think about now. Sarah was then, and even if you do confront her, how will you explain all this?'

Despite how much he tried to put all the pieces together, there was no easy way to explain the situation. Sure, it had gotten easier the past few weeks with memories returning, but could anyone really believe that he was the spirit of a boy who died fifty years ago?

Sam lay awake in her bed, her mind too cluttered to even try to sleep.

'Why did you let him unearth such hard memories today? He looked so pained when he left…'

She had learned a great deal about her ghostly boyfriend today, more than she ever expected him to even remember. And yet, she wished she hadn't.

The more Sam learned about Danny and his past, the more he became real to her. And the last thing she needed was to think he was a reality, when they both knew that he may not be someday.

'Forget about the pain Sam, what about his body temperature. No human is warm enough to transfer that much heat that fast.'

The idea that something unnormal, even for a ghost, was happening to Danny brought a new sort of fear to Sam. The fear that, while he could not age, that didn't mean she wouldn't lose him someday.

Small tears appeared in her eyes as she began to think about her life without Danny. Up until now, she had always been so miserable. Enough, in fact, to consider taking her own life. But ever since Danny had arrived, she had been happy, smiling, living. If and when Danny finally had to move on, well, she just couldn't stand the thought.

--

"Hey Mrs. Fenton, I'm ready for my first day on duty!" Sam said, trying to smile, as she approached Maddie after school.

"Oh honey, call me Maddie, please!" Maddie responded, letting the girl inside."Jack! Sam's here! She's going do some minor chores around the lab for us!"

"Great Maddie, send her down! I'm just finishing up some computer stuff!"

Sam had only seen the lab on TV, but she'd never expected it to be as expansive as she what she found when she went downstairs. The room was large and metallic, steel desks laden with various gadgets scattered throughout. But the biggest wonder was the Ghost Portal, a large opening on the wall opposite the stairs that was currently sealed by two yellow and black striped doors. The size alone was enough to make Sam shiver, let alone knowing what existed on the other side.

Maddie wasn't joking when she said they could use someone to help cleanup; several of the gadgets had green sludge on them, while others were just gathering dust from lack of use. The floor was a mess as well, with crumpled paper and shards of metal in various corners.

'What have they been doing down here?' she found herself wondering, not sure if she wanted an answer.

'I just hope Danny never gets involved with any of those sharp ones over there…'

Jack was sitting at the computer, staring rather intently at the screen, when she arrived. Hearing her footsteps he turned and looked at her.

"Hey! Sammy! Welcome to the lab! Sorry it's a bit of a mess. Experimenting you know!"

Sam tried to smile, but being called "Sammy" was not something she was used to from anyone but her Grandma.

"It's ok Mr. Fenton, that's what I'm here for. Just point me to the broom and I'll get to work!" she said, plastering on the most enthusiasm she could muster about getting covered in green goop.

"Oh, brooms aren't going to do you any good down here! What you need is Fenton Ecto-be-gone! And a hazmat suit!"

Jack seemed excited at the idea of fitting the girl into an orange jumpsuit, despite Sam's dismay. Luckily, there were a few in their closet that both met her style and made Jack happy.

"Here yah go kiddo, take this bottle and spray it at the green stuff – ectoplasm – and it should start to deteriorate. I had an easier way, the Fenton Thermos, but I seem to have misplaced that…" Jack scratched his head as he went back over to the computer.

'What have I gotten myself into…'

--

It had been a late night, and despite the constant battle, Danny still had no answer to his current dilemma.

Luckily for him, he had managed to find a distraction in the form of a glowing blue dragon that was currently setting fire to the local skating rink.

'This place still exists? It's been here for ages,' he thought, remembering a couple of dates he had been on as a child.

"BALLL!" the dragon was roaring as blue flames came from her mouth, causing panic to all those below.

'Although it won't be around much longer!'

"Hey you! Dragon breath, did anyone ever tell you that you need feet to skate?!" Danny yelled, sending a beam from his hand.

Since his last ghost attack, Danny had been practicing, and as a result he was finally able to emit ghost rays without even thinking.

The dragon flapped her wings, causing enough wind to deflect the beam, and continued on her rampage.

"BALLL!" she roared as the music from inside blared.

'Great, she can't take my beams and I left that soup-thing at Sam's…'

As he floated above the building, trying to think of a new solution, he watched as another bout of fire came from the dragon's mouth. But what he hadn't noticed before was that every time she let out the flames the medallion around her neck glowed a bright green.

'Her power source?'

He had to find out, and the only way he knew was to get closer. But getting closer meant getting charred.

"Oh wait, ghost, DUH!" he said, smacking his head and turning invisible.

Unable to see her opponent, the dragon was sent into a panic before turning back towards the rink and opening her mouth for one last blow.

But it didn't come. Instead she found herself shrinking in size, her shape morphing until she came to a stand on the ground, completely human in form.

Danny floated above her, holding the medallion in one hand and staring down at the girl in shock.

"I just wanted to go to the ball…" she cried, looking up at her ghostly foe.

"Sorry miss, but I think that this time you're going to have to miss out." Danny replied, coming down to the ground beside her.

"What ball are you talking about anyway?" he questioned, hoping to get a civil answer.

"My brother's… sob… coronation ball… he's getting… sob… married tomorrow and he didn't… sob… invite me."

'Maybe he was worried about your bad breath.'

"Coronation? What time are we in, the 1800's?"

"Well… sob… yes… but you see… sob… time doesn't matter. What matters is when those who you love hurt you the most… sob…" she responded, trying to hold back green tears.

Danny was beginning to feel truly sorry for this girl, despite having just attacked her moments ago. And what she was saying was very true. Pain was pain, no matter the time.

"Miss, maybe your brother had a reason. Did you ever do anything that would make him want to uninvite you?" Danny asked, trying to smile while still keeping his distance.

"Well… sob… his bride, she never seemed to like me. She was always JEALOUS of my powers!" Her eyes began to glow green as the hatred filled her body.

"Woah, hold on. Take a step back. Isn't this the source of your power?" Danny asked, holding up the medallion far enough away to keep her from grabbing.

"Well, yes, but I don't even want it! It's too dangerous! Eregon, my brother, he has one too, twice as powerful as mine and he hasn't even told his bride about it! All he does is use it for evil and if she knew he was the real cause of our realm's destruction she'd leave him for good. The girl's tears began to dry as she thought about all the bad things her brother had done.

"At least I don't mean to cause harm - I only use mine because it's bound to my body. Unfortunately I was born with the ability to get upset rather looked up at Danny, her eyes getting bigger as she explained her story.

"I think you need to explain. About your brother, his powers, your powers, everything. Clear the air."

"But if I try he'll just yell at me and then I'll just get angry, and then I'll turn into that monster again!" she shrieked.

"I can guarantee that will not happen," a small smile forming on his face.

"How?"

"Well for one, I have your amulet."

The girl had been so upset that she hadn't even realized that he did, in fact, have her amulet.

"But… but… but… it's bound to my body! Only one may remove it and prophecies state it had to be a special ghost. One who lives on both realms."

"Well, seeing as I'm a ghost, and I live in the human world, I must fit the bill." Danny grinned, suddenly wondering if this had anything to do with his recent 'mood swings'.

"You must! Oh great one! Thank you, thank you! What can I ever do to repay you?!" Her mood suddenly turned around, going from tearful to cheerful in a matter of seconds.

"Just promise you'll keep that dragon brother of yours away from here!" Danny smiled.

"Deal!" she said happily as she began to fade away. Just as she was about to disappear, however, she added. "Savior, what's your name?"

"Phantom, Danny Phantom."

"Oh Phantom, thank you for fulfilling my prophecy. I will forever be indebted to you."

And just like that, she was gone.

Danny, however, stood outside the rink, holding her amulet in his hands.

'Feeling warm, losing control of my abilities, flickering. One of both realms. There must be a connection.'

The amulet suddenly began to glow a faint green color, just as it had when the girl had worn it, as if answering Danny's questions. Slightly freaked out, he quickly tucked the amulet into his back pocket before flying off.

--

Two hours and three bottles of Ecto-be-gone later, Sam was finally done cleaning up the lab. Jack had finished up his computer work about half way into her job and wandered upstairs, hoping to find more fudge.

This left the computer completely vacant.

Sam had said she wouldn't touch the computer, and she really wanted to keep that promise, but the whole time she was cleaning all she could think about was the fact that it had all the information she could possibly need.

'Sam, stop. Don't touch the computer. There's gotta be a less risky way. You just got this job after all…'

She had somehow managed to get through all of her chores without touching it, but the allure was too strong now that she was done. Putting her last bottle away she peered up the stairs to make sure no one was coming then made a beeline for the desk.

To her dismay, it was password protected.

"Probably for the best…" She found herself whispering as she wandered back upstairs. "Maybe next time."

--

What the dragon girl had said was really jumbling his mind. What sort of prophecy could she have meant? And was he really the one who fulfilled it?

But more so, what she had said about time and love had really struck a chord. She was right after all; time didn't matter. It was those who you loved that did. And despite everything, he owed both the women he loved an explanation.

By now he knew the location by heart, and it was his heart that was leading him straight to Sam's.

--

Sam was sitting on her bed, having just finished combing ectoplasm out of her hair and reading another of her favorite graphic novels. She didn't even notice the sudden chill in the air when Danny snuck into her room.

Deciding to be sneaky, he quickly became invisible and floated over to her bed.

"Hey Sam!" he said as his head reappeared, sticking out of her book.

"EEEEEEEEEEEE!"

The book went flying as Sam jumped up; and Danny just floated there, laughing.

"It is NOT funny Danny! Really, grow up!"

"Sorry, can't, ghost remember?"

"Hahaha you know what I mean," she replied, crossing her arms and turning away from him.

"Sam, I was just messing with you, come on, lighten up."

She was still turned away, but he knew what would make her cave. Flying over to where she was standing, he leaned in a pecked her on the cheek.

"That's it?" she said, smiling and finally giving in.

"For now," he finished as he went back over to her bed and sat down. "We need to talk."

'This can't be the break up talk, it's only been a few weeks…' She pondered as she sat down next to him.

"Ok, what's up?"

Before Danny could actually answer, Sam's door opened to her grandmother sitting on the other side.

"Sammy, are you ok? I heard you…" She stopped and let out a slow 'awwww,' her eyes getting a bit bigger.

The door had opened so suddenly that Danny hadn't had the chance to turn invisible.

[orbmanson7]

Okay so I know some of you like to be kept in the loop on what's going on in orb's world, so here's the new scoop

My roommate is an asshole

So, for those who don't already know, we were "dating" (that's what we told people, it was very much a financial benefit to live together and nothing more, we're not the dating type, or at least I'm not) for a while, we moved to yet another apartment about two months ago, and he's recently been very... let's say "unhappy" with what I guess he assumed our relationship was. I assured him I'm ace, never was attracted to him like that, even told him that to his face long before the arrangement was ever a thing. He thinks I owe him, but the only thing I actually owe him is some back-rent from the months I was unemployed and wasn't able to fork out cash for rent. That's all, not sex, definitely not dates or romance bullshit. He thinks otherwise, obviously.

We've been civil with our debates on this, coming to the agreement that I never have and never will owe him shit beyond some money, and he is allowed to be upset for his assumptions but that doesn't mean I magically need to like him or something.

And then, some of you know that I had to replace all four of my tires and a wheel and get the alignment fixed on my car the past week, so I'm broke from spending every penny on that. I haven't eaten in about four days because there's nothing I can do about that, and my roommate has been all angsty and avoiding me. Whenever we try to watch TV, he has something rude to say about my cartoons, and I tell him that I'm usually busy with commissions or something when he wants to watch some cop show of his (he can watch them on his own but he doesn't like to for some freaking reason). Any time we're in the same room together, all he does is complain about stuff, lords the fact that I owe him money over my head, and continually asks about if/when I've ever been attracted to him (I've now explained asexuality to him several times and how I personally have never been attracted to him beyond a platonic bond mostly set in similar senses of humor).

Yesterday, he asked for my help because he wanted to move his computer desk into his room, I wasn't feeling well so my help consisted of telling him his "desk" which was actually his parents old kitchen table was too wide to fit in his doorway so he'd have to dismantle it. He complained,said he didn't want to do that, I said he wouldn't get it in his room any other way. He asked if I'd help him dismantle it, I said no (I've been feeling weak, having not eaten in a few days, I figured it was fair to say no anyway) and he got all angry and muttered about how I should cut him some slack since it's been a hard day for him. I told him I've had some hard days, too, and he could always put the task off until he felt better. He didn't like that answer, I went back to my room to work on commissions.

So last night, the wifi goes out. I reset the router and check when I last paid the bill, thinking that me being broke maybe missed the auto-payment, but it wasn't due for another week. I go to text my roommate, the message won't go through. I reset my phone, wifi still out, texting and calling my roommate doesn't work, so I text my stepsister and it works just fine.

So my roommate blocked my phone number, awesome.

And now I've gotta go find a way to get this card table I borrowed back to my grandparents' house by tomorrow morning for their garage sale, but it won't fit in my car and I've been trying to get my roommate to help me out or at least let me borrow his truck to drive it there but no luck, clearly.

I go out to my car today, and my key fob stopped working, and of course it's a twelve year old car so there's no simple solution. "Oh just unhook the car battery" yeah I'd Love to do that but this is a Chrysler 300 where they put the battery in the TRUNK which won't open because the latch for it is an electronic button that won't work with the damn alarm going off and the fob not working

So now I can't leave my apartment, I'm broke, with no wifi and running onfumes of leftover data on my phone, and the one person messing with half of my life right now blocked me to purposefully be an asshole.

So, yeah, that's what's up in orb's world lately. Hope things are better where you are because being here SUCKS

[bluewatsons]

Diana Rehm, Inside Addictive Treatment, DianeRehm.org (February 11, 2013) [continued]

Diane Rehm: And welcome back. Let's open the phones now, 800-433-8850. First to Central New Hampshire. Good morning, John.

John (caller): Good morning. I'm one of those -- I'm affiliated with AA and have been for a long time. And it's been really interesting to hear your speakers today because I fall into that category in the program they call high functioning drunks. And I spent 20 years going to lots of different meetings. And because I had not had all those hard negative consequences they were talking about, I hadn't lost a job, I was, you know, continuing to meet my goals. I hadn't gotten any DUIs, I drank following sort of a set of rules and yet I knew I still had a problem. . . But every time I went to an AA meeting in different groups and different states over 20 years I kept feeling like I didn't fit. And there weren't really the tools for me to make use of to address my high functioning -- you know, my drinking and addiction-based thinking. The AA's really good at putting people with a lot of problems that have had -- you know, that are in there true bottom stage and helping them climb out of that and having meaningful lives. . . But it seems to me that what ended up working for me, and I've been sober for seven years...

Diane Rehm: Congratulations.

John (caller): ...is that in the process the first thing you do is stop drinking, and then you're dry but you're not sober. And it's only through doing all the steps it seems to me that the anchoring process in the whole thing is based on relationships. And as far as most of the people that I know that are sober started like me and had a connection with somebody -- a meaningful personal connection with somebody who had some sobriety who could shepherd them. And in the program, we often called that a sponsor, but it may not be your actual sponsor. It may just be someone else that's in the program.

Diane Rehm: Sure. Sure.

John (caller): And then from that relationship you trust their judgment that they've accomplished something that you haven't. And then you accept a spiritual relationship. And it's from that acceptance of a true spiritual relationship that you actually get the help that -- to be sober.

Diane Rehm: All right. John, thanks for calling. That word spiritual may put some people off some programs, Anne.

Anne Fletcher: Well, yeah, it's what I said earlier. It's great when it works but it doesn't work for everybody. And it's not, you know -- Bill Wilson who found -- co-founder of AA never says that AA was the be all and end all. He said, you know, that he did not expect -- he doesn't like -- he didn't like dogma and that we found an approach that works for us, is what he said. And if you can find some other way then do it your way. So...

Diane Rehm: Here is an email from Nichole titled "My Father and Addiction." She says, "I know many inpatient programs will not accept alcoholics until they have been alcohol-free for at least a month. My father, a veteran, had to leave the State of Michigan to find an inpatient program to accept him. I feel this is a problem many are unaware of. Unless somebody wants to be a part of religiously affiliated program such as AA, there are few options." Dr. Seppala, is that a prerequisite at Hazelden?

Marvin Seppala: No, not at all. In fact our programs provide detoxication services and all medical and psychiatric services necessary to initiate treatment for folks. It would be an unusual setting that would require that sort of detoxification take place before initial care.

Diane Rehm: Dr. Seppala, tell me how much and, shall we say, an ordinary perhaps three-month stay at Hazelden can cost? And does insurance cover any or all of it?

Marvin Seppala: Yeah, I'm better off describing a one-month stay because that's a more common stay in our residential site and it would be 25 to $30,000. It's extremely expensive and that's why we describe it as tertiary care requiring good evaluation to determine the appropriateness of that level of care. When people don't meet, you know, the necessary requirements for that type of care, we'll send them to outpatient which is going to be more in the range of 5 to $7,000 for...

Diane Rehm: And does insurance cover any of it?

Marvin Seppala: Insurance covers both actually, both residential and outpatient care, but not all insurance. And what we've been seeing in the last year or so is that insurance is really limiting access to treatment of all types, both residential and outpatient in trying to -- on an outpatient basis where it is much less costly, even there to limit the length of time people could be involved. And when we discussed earlier that these are chronic illnesses, we need to be involved on an outpatient basis long term to help folks. . . And the entire treatment field and the insurance industry hasn't really recognized that and provided the type of care and structure necessary for that yet.

Diane Rehm: Anne, is that amount he mentioned typical of what you found?

Anne Fletcher: Yes, of the high-end kind of programs, yep. I found one program that I visited more kind of a celebrity rehab type place. It was really interesting. It was $38,000 whether you stayed one month or three. And actually it was quite a bargain for three months. And the reason they did that was because they wanted to encourage you to stay three months because the outcomes were much better for the people who stayed three months. ... But there really isn't -- this was a quote from one of the experts in my book -- there isn't any supporting evidence for -- I believe the way he said it was a short term burst of treatment that removes you from reality, that puts you away -- takes you away from your regular life. Yes, there are those few exceptional cases where somebody has a severe psychiatric problem. They can't stay sober. They've tried outpatient treatment many, many times. They may be suicidal and they do need to be removed from reality. But for the most part there isn't evidence supporting that model where you take people away. ... And, you know, there -- people don't realize, they don't -- just this knee-jerk reaction that you need to go away for treatment. You know, not only should people give more thought to outpatient treatment -- and by the way, there's no evidence that paying more money gets you better treatment. There are very good -- I found some very excellent community-based outpatient programs that had more state-of-the-art treatment -- now I'm not saying there aren't very good expensive programs out there, because I found excellent ones that were. . . But I also found excellent, very inexpensive, as I said, community-based programs that had masters-level therapists -- masters-degree level, that had very comprehensive programs that addressed the psychiatric and psychological needs as well as addiction needs, nutrition, getting people back to school, a whole life kind of approach.

Diane Rehm: So, Beth, what about the cost of a program like yours on an inpatient basis?

Beth Kane-Davidson: Oh, you mean -- for our patient, it's outpatient and so...

Diane Rehm: All outpatient.

Beth Kane-Davidson: Yeah, all outpatient. And of course that is less expensive. Our outpatient program runs around 4 or $5,000 for the intensive part. And then what's been brought up is, to me, the most critical part is the continuing care. We have continuing care which used to be in the old days a set time. You know, you would do 25 sessions. Now we've switched to open-ended. We want -- people need to come back, they need to stay engaged in treatment, they need the continued support.

Diane Rehm: And to what extent do the insurance companies step in?

Beth Kane-Davidson: They do step in. We have contracts with almost all of the insurance companies but I do echo what was said earlier. We getting a squeeze on our end. And we do have to get preauthorization and then continue authorizing the session so it's not like you just get a blanket, do what you need to do.

Diane Rehm: I see. Yeah.

Beth Kane-Davidson: And it goes back to, you know, this is a very complex treatment that we have to give. And so we do have to look at the individual and we do have to work within, you know, the perimeters of the insurance and what they're saying and what we need.

Anne Fletcher: But again we're talking, you know, about severe, severe cases much of the time. That's a small percentage of the people with substance problems. We also have not talked at all about seeing an individual therapist. Now most psychologists don't have training -- and physicians in addiction treatment and that's unfortunate. They don't receive that training in school. But you can find them, and I talk in my book about how you can find doctors and psychiatrists and psychologists with special training in the field to work with one on one. That's how I overcame my drinking problem, working one on one with a psychologist who had addiction training.

Diane Rehm: What's...

Anne Fletcher: And my insurance paid for it.

Diane Rehm: ...what's the difference, Dr. Seppala, of treating an alcohol versus a drug addicted individual?

Marvin Seppala: There are some differences specific to the type of substance that people use, but there's also remarkable similarities. We understand the neurobiology of addiction in a tremendous manner now than we did 20 years ago even. And it reveals the two aspects of brain function are dramatically altered. First, the reward center has been altered in a way that the person wants to continue to use the drug at a subconscious level. Drive states have been reprioritized so that in severe addiction people will risk their lives to get that drug and keep using or get alcohol and keep using. ... Even survival itself dropping down in priority secondary to the drive to continue to use that drug. In the prefrontal cortex where executive functions take place where we make decisions, think things through, look at the future has been altered in such a way that we can't recognize what is going on. We can't see the consequences. . . So even though I agree with many of the points made by Anne in her book, and she does help to describe a lot of the problems facing the addiction treatment field as a whole, she hasn't really described this function that we know from a neurobiological basis that limits people's own recognition of the problem and thus can undermine their attempts to seek treatment, let alone to get good treatment.

Diane Rehm: So it depends quite often on the people around you.

Marvin Seppala: It sure does. You really need people that care about you, that love you or even just a judge that knows you because of an illegal act, or an employer that's going to say, hey you need treatment. Hazelden did some studies actually almost a couple decades ago now, where they looked at how and why people enter treatment. Over 95 percent of people are coming in because of someone else in their life requiring that they address the issue. ... And they also -- we also looked at, you know, who did better, those that came of their own accord, which was a small group, versus those that were there because someone else insisted. And actually those folks that someone else insisted had slightly better outcomes than those that were there of their own accord, which we found to be unusual. But it's just what the numbers turned out to be.

Diane Rehm: Anne.

Anne Fletcher: I look at the literature of somebody who did a big, like, international look at the literature on kind of forcing people into treatment. And he said it's actually a huge national social experiment that we're engaged in in this country because we really don't know whether it helps people or harms people. But the most important point in all of this is by focusing on a small segment of the population, that's people with severe addictions, only 1 percent of the population in any one year has the kind of severe alcoholism that we think of as Nicholas Cage in "Leaving Las Vegas." Only 1 percent of the population. . . Most people with addiction don't have that kind of severe addiction, and that's what we're focusing on when we talk about people that we're talking about. More people would be helped if we had a broader approach, a less narrow approach to addiction.

Diane Rehm: And you're listening to "The Diane Rehm Show." Let's now go to Jefferson, Ind. Good morning, Terri.

Terri (caller): Good morning. My question is about my brother that's 43, and he's been doing drugs since he was a teenager. As a family we sat down and had an intervention with him and he actually was honest and said he was doing crack cocaine, and told us that we were enabling him. So we cut the cash off from him and a place to stay and dropped him off at a homeless shelter and was hoping that that would be his bottom -- his rock bottom. And actually he's been there for almost two years now. Actually he's homeless from the homeless shelter. So I guess my question would be what would be our next step?

Diane Rehm: What would you say, Beth?

Beth Kane-Davidson: I'd say look into the resources in your community. I think the point of individual addiction treatment counselor, therapist is a great way to go. Somebody that knows addiction and then can help you all figure out how to connect him to someone in the community that can begin helping him.

Diane Rehm: Dr. Seppala.

Marvin Seppala: Yeah, I would echo that. I think an initial evaluation's really essential and gaining some of the resources in the community rather than just a homeless shelter. He needs treatment of some sort to begin to examine the relationship that he has with drugs of abuse and look at some skills to get sober and stay sober.

Diane Rehm: Anne.

Anne Fletcher: There's not a simple answer to this question. it's very hard and sad as a family member when you're in a situation like this, and I feel for you. And I can't give you a simple answer. In both of my books I do talk -- and I have resources for family members -- but I'm going to give you one suggestion. One of the things that I found in doing my research is that there's a huge gap between science and practice. What the research shows to be effective and what's actually going on in many treatment programs in this county. And I only found one out of the 15 programs that is using scientifically-based family approaches, working with the family. ... They're doing a lot of psycho educational workshops educating families about addiction, the disease of addiction and, you know, talking to them about that. And kind of sitting around and talking about things you can and can't do to help the addict. There's a lot of focus on going to Al-Anon. And that's another 12-step-based group for families. And it does help families. There's research that it helps the family member but there's kind of this feeling that you can't really do anything to help the addict or get the addict into treatment. And that's not true. ... The CRAFT approach, which I mentioned earlier, which was developed by Dr. Robert Meyers, there is a book that I'm going to recommend, somebody's else's book called "Get Your Loved One Sober." And that has specific research-based strategies for family members of a loved one. "Get Your Loved One Sober," and that is published by Hazelden. And that is something that can help people with a loved one with an addiction, people who feel helpless like you.

Diane Rehm: And one last question. Terri said that they tried an intervention. Does a professional need to be present for an...

Anne Fletcher: CRAFT has been found to be far more effective than interventions in helping loved ones and getting them into treatment than interventions. Statistically I think it's 70 percent more effective. No, I know what it is. Seventy percent of people who participate in CRAFT in the research studies go into treatment. And those numbers are much greater than people who participate in intervention. It's striking. It's just striking.

Diane Rehm: Well, clearly lots of possible outcomes here, lots of resources. We'll have some of these listed at our website drshow.org. Thank you all so much. Anne Fletcher, her book is titled "Inside Rehab." Beth Kane-Davidson. She's at Suburban Hospital, John's Hopkins Medicine and Dr. Marvin Seppala of the Hazelden Foundation. Thanks for listening, all. I'm Diane Rehm.