#anyway my brain is on the Bad Anxiety Juice I’m just gonna cry about the pirates for awhile

[piratewinzer]

Does anyone else have legit anxiety from the last episode approaching or am I just extra insane

[thegirlwhobrokeintothetardis]

Family (Hank Voight x Daughter!Reader)

Word Count: 3,033

Pairing: Hank Voight x Reader (Familial relationship)

Summary: When you were 8 and dealing with a mother who left when you could barely walk and a father who was too loaded to even remember he was a father, Hank Voight found you and took you in. Now as an adult and working as a firefighter at Firehouse 51, you are shocked when your biological parents come back to be in your life again.

Warnings: talks of child abuse, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, swearing, and angst.

A/N: Y/M/N - Your Middle Name. Also, this is probably the longest imagine I’ve written so far, I hope you all enjoy it :)

If you want to be added to my tags, just ASK!!!

“Excuse me.” 

A rough gravely voice made 8 year old you look up at the imposingly tall figure above you. You squinted as flurries of Chicago snow fluttered around the two of you, sticking to the cracked cement and dried up grass on the sidewalk. The man had short dark hair and what your child’s brain thought of as “Dumbo-like” ears. He wore a blue and black police uniform and had a shiny silver star badge pinned to his chest.

“Hi,” The man said, moving down to kneel so that you were both around the same height. “Are you lost?”

You stared at the police officer for a second before shaking your head no, “I live around the corner.”

“Oh okay, how about I walk you home? Your mom and dad must be worried about you.” He offered. Again, you shook your head.

“I don’t want to go home. I don’t have a mom and my dad’s mean.”

“Mean?”

“Yeah, he yells and-and one time he pushed me into the tiny table in the tv room and it really hurt.” You explained, not really understanding your situation but something clicked in the police officer’s eyes. “But a lot of the time he gets sleepy from the bottles of smelly juice and the needles.”

The police officer nodded, and looked down the road in the direction you pointed out where you live. There is a long silence as you shifted on your tiny feet, not really knowing what was going on. Then the police officer turned to you and smiled, his eyes warm as they looked at you.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” He asked.

“Y/F/N Y/L/N.”

“Well Y/N, my name is Officer Hank Voight. How would you feel about riding in a police car and seeing a real police station?”

For the first time since he found you, Hank saw your sad expression change into a huge smile, your eyes lighting up like the skyline on Chicago he loves so much. And he knew then that he was gonna help you out in anyway that he could.

                                                           ---

23 years later...

“Hey, Voight! You got someone outside asking for you!” Lieutenant Kelly Severide called out. You looked up from the cards in your hand and then looked around at your friends on Truck 81 who you were playing cards with. 

“Who is it?” You asked, already putting your cards down.

“A woman? Says her name is Carla Jennings.”

Still confused, you got up and made your way out to the bay where the trucks and ambo sat waiting for action. Capp and Joe Cruz were sitting at the Squad table, looking up when you walked in and Joe pointed out a woman who was standing just outside the station. Her light brown and gray hair was pulled into a ponytail and she looked around jittery, her hands popping in and out of her jacket pockets. It was gray outside, another Chicago winter just started and soon enough the snow would fall down on the Windy City. 

You walked over to the woman, her jittery motions stopping when she saw you approaching. A smile came on her face, and for a second you thought that you saw her eyes water a bit from the sight of you. “Carla Jennings?”

“Yes, hi.” Carla said, pulling out her hands from her jacket again. It looked almost like she was going to go in for a hug, but stopped and then held her hand out to you. “Y/N, right?”

“Yes, Y/F/N Voight. Is there something I can help you with ma’am?” You asked. Her smile that she had on before dimmed a bit when you said your name, but she forced it back on after you shook her hand and let go.

“Wow, look at you. You’re so grown up now.”

“Excuse me?”

“I-I just, I’m sorry.” Carla wiped away a couple of tears and sniffled, trying not to look away from you. “It’s just its been so long.”

“Ma’am, I’m sorry but I think there’s been some mistake. I don’t know who-”

“Your last name. It wasn’t always Voight.”

You stopped, and looked at her as she walked a little closer to you. You could feel the eyes of your fellow firefighters watching this interaction, then being just as confused as you were. “I’m sorry?”

“Your last name, it was Y/L/N. I’m right, aren’t I?” Carla said.

“Who are you? How do you know that?” You asked. Carla’s eyes started to water again, and she looked at you and sighed.

“Y/N, I’m your mom.”

You look at her, eyes scanning over her trying to piece together what she had said. You weren’t stupid, you knew that she was probably referring to your biological mother, not your mom, Camille Voight who raised you like her own and died of cancer. You had no memories of this woman standing in front of you.

“My mom died in 2011 of ovarian cancer.”

“No, I’m your real mom. I gave birth to you and held you and-”

“Left? You left and you left me with that man.” You said, your voice a little louder then before. She looked stunned, like this was news to her. “I’m sorry but whatever you want, I’m not interested.” 

You go to turn away and walk back into the firehouse when Carla grabbed your arm and stopped you. “Please! Please I’m you mom, I’m your blood!!”

You pulled away and turned back to her, “No, you are not my mom. You are a woman who was supposed to take care of me and left me with a drunk of a man before my dad came and took me in. So I owe you nothing.”

“Is everything okay here?” Chief Boden asked, finally walking over to the two of you and trying to catch your eye.

“Yeah, everything is fine. We’re done here.” You said as you took one last look at Carla and walked back towards the house. Herrmann tried to stop you but you walked past everyone and straight into Boden’s office, sitting down and waiting for him to come back inside. The anger you felt before in front of that woman started to settle down, and overwhelming emotions of loathing, sadness, and abandonment bubbled up until you were trying to hold back sobs. The office door opened and Chief Boden, and Lieutenants Casey and Severide walked in, all three circling you in worry.

“Y/N, what happened?” Severide asked, slowly putting a hand on your back and rubbing it up and down. Your crying started to subside, and once you got to a point where you were just sniffling and whipping tears away, you finally looked up to the three men around you. 

“Um, so that was my biological mother. And... I haven’t seen her since I was maybe 3?” You explained. You turned to Chief Boden and took a deep breath. “Is there any way I could clock out early? I-I need to see my dad.”

“Of course, you shouldn’t be working with this going on anyway. Take a couple days and come back with a clear mind.”

“Yes sir. Do you mind if I wait inside until she is gone? I feel like she might still be out there waiting for me.”

“How about we drop you off at the 21st?” Casey said, then turning to Boden, “We’ll have our radios on in case there is a call.”

Boden looked at you then nodded, “Go.”

“Thanks Chief.” You said, getting up and patting both Casey and Severide on the shoulders before passing them and heading towards the locker room to change. Your mind was racing as you got out of your work clothes, memories of what felt like a past life, waking up with beer and condiments in the fridge, hand-me-down clothes from the family 2 houses down that felt bad for my situation, but said nothing. Once the image of the red-hungover eyes and gnarled and matted hair came into your mind, you shut your locker, snapping yourself back into the present.

                                                         ---

Once everyone was on 81, the truck headed off into the city to your dad’s district. It was silent as the truck stopped at lights and turned corners, finally you got to the 21st and was about to jump out of the truck when Lieutenant Casey called out to you. “Yes, Lieutenant?”

“I hope you’re able to work everything out.”

You sent a small smile his way, thanked him and jumped out. “See you guys later.”

“See you around, kid!” Herrmann yelled just as the truck took off back to the house. Turning, you started walking towards the station, the patrolmen mingling with others on the steps outside. Once you got in, you saw Sargent Trudy Platt manning the desk as usual and that put a small smile on your face. Trudy was always funny and nice to you growing up, and she treated you almost like a daughter. When she saw that you walked in, and by how observant she is probably catching your puffy face and red eyes, concern completely took over her stature.

“What is it? What happened?” She asked, coming around her desk and over to you, rubbing your arms comfort.

“Is my dad here? I just need to talk to him about something.”

“He’s out right now with Olinsky right now, but I think he’ll be back soon. You sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

“Maybe later,” You said, taking a deep breath and shrugging, “I want to talk dad first.”

Trudy took a second before nodding, “I’ll buzz you up so you can wait in his office.”

“Thanks, Trudy.” You said as she gave your arm a gentle squeeze and walked back to your desk.

“You know you are the only person that I can tolerate, Y/F/N Y/M/N.” Trudy called out. She and Alvin Olinsky, your dad’s best friend, were the only two who got into the habit of calling you by your first and middle name. Instead of it feeling like you were in trouble like it would when you were a kid, it was always met with love. You were just about to start walking up the stairs to head into Intelligence when a male voice called out.

“Y/N? Y/F/N Y/L/N?” You froze, that voice immediately sending anxiety through you like a bucket of cold water. You slowly turned around and found a man trying to stand up from a bench, but was handcuffed to it. He looked exactly the same as he did when you were 8, exactly from when you would see him in your nightmares after moving in with the Voights. His hair was matted and looked unwashed, his eyes red and teeth yellow, and even from how far you were from him, you could smell beer wafting off him. “It is you. Where’ve you been, girl?”

“Danny.” You said, trying to keep your cool. You could see that Trudy had picked up the phone and was whispering something into it, you only catching your name and “get here now”. 

“Danny? What happened to dad, huh?”

“You stopped being my dad the minute I left that hellhole called a house.”

“Sorry darlin’, but that’s not how gen-et-tics works. You’re my kin and I will always be a part of you no matter who raises you.”

“Shut up.” You yelled. Others in the station were watching your interaction, you even heard the gate open at the top of the stair and figured that whoever was up at Intelligence came down to see what was wrong.

“Oh, don’t like that now do you? You can try and hide where you came from and clean yourself up, but you will always be Y/F/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, and you will follow in your families footsteps. You’ll either leave like that junkie-whore mama of yours, or you’ll end up like your dear-ol’-daddy.” He smirked as you started shaking, him noticing your reacting and smirking more, “You can’t run from what you’re made of.”

Just as he said that, Hank and Alvin Olinsky rushed into the building, Hank noticing you and turning to Danny who looked like he just won something. “Get him out of here.” Hank said, pointing to a patrolman near Danny. As the officer uncuffed Danny from the bench and recuffed his hands together, he started yelling.

“Ha! Now you got your crooked cop to come and save the day! Just like when you were a kid!” Danny started putting up a fight with the officer, trying to stay in the area, then turned to Hank, “You can take her and gussy her up, but trash is still trash.”

“Get him out of here!!” Hank yelled again, and two more officers ran over and finally took Danny out of the space. You were still staring at where he was when you felt a hand on your arm and harshly flinched. 

It was just Hank, and he frown at your reaction to him, not seeing that happen since you first came to live with him and Camille. “Hey, lets go upstairs.”

You nodded, and the two of you walk up to the Intelligence Unit, you can feel the people downstairs all watching after that spectacle. Once you were both safely in Hank’s office, you both sat down in the chairs in front of his desk, Hank’s eyes still on you as you avoid his.

“Why aren’t you at the firehouse?” 

“After what just happened, you won’t believe me if I told you.”

After a few seconds of silence, you finally looked up at your dad, and he gave you a look you remember a lot from your childhood with him. It basically said, ‘try me’, which made you sigh and rub your hands over your face.

“This woman came to the house asking for me, Carla Jennings, and ended up telling me that she was my mother. My biological mother.” You explain. Hank looked shocked, him never even knowing your bio mom. “I wanted to come see you so Chief Boden gave me a couple of days to get my head straight. And then that happened.”

“Yeah, Trudy said he was arrested on a DUI that almost killed a little girl.”

“Jesus Christ.” 

You sighed, hating that you came from him in the first place. You dropped you head into your hands as the information sunk in.

“Hey,” Hank said, putting a hand on your back and rubbing soothing circles, happy that he didn’t have to see you flinch because of him again, “Don’t you dare listen to his words.”

“Isn’t he right though? I was lucky to get out of that hell of a home because of you, but his and that woman’s genes are in me. Its a matter of time before I screw everything up.”

“Genetics don’t mean shit. Hey, look at me,” You looked up and he had a determined look in his eye, “You may have came from them, but their mistakes don’t rule over what you will do. Look what you have done without them here; you graduated top of your class in high school, and then again when you graduated from the Fire Academy. You showed all those sexists bastards that you are just as good, if not better, than any man on that truck, and now there is word that you might be up for a promotion to squad?”

“What?” You said, shocked with the information.

“Boden called me last week saying that you had been taking the classes needed to get on rescue squad? And because you are amazing and smart and strong, there was word from the higher ups that you might get that open spot on Squad 3 as the first woman in the Chicago Fire Department history to be admitted to rescue squad.” Hank explained. You started to smile as some tears escaped out of a mix of happiness, confusion and some residual feelings from what had happened earlier today. “They’re just finalizing some things but they’re going to announce it at the Fireman’s Ball later this month.”

“Oh my god.”

“And you did that all without them. They had no say on these things, and they will not have say on the rest of your life.” Hank said, pulling you into a hug. The two of you hugged for a while, your tears subsiding as you basked in the feeling of love you were getting from your dad. 

“Thanks dad.” You said as you finally pulled away. He smiled and patted the top of your head, sneaking a kiss into your hairline while he was at it. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Goose. Taking you in was the best decision I ever made.” He said, making you smile wider than you were before. A beat of silence passed before there was a knock on the door and Alvin came in, his eyes bouncing from you to Hank in worry.

“Everything okay in here?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks Uncle Alvin.”

“Yeah, no problem kid.” He said, smiling at you and messing up your hair before turning back to Hank, “Ander’s girlfriend was picked up, she’s in interrogation.”

“Okay, I’ll be there in a minute.” Hank said, turning back to you as Alvin leaves.

You turn back to your dad and smile, “Can I stay in here? I kind of don’t want to go back to my apartment right now just in case that Carla woman knows where I live.”

“Yeah, take a nap on the couch in you want. We’re winding down with this case so when we’re done, you and me can go grab some dinner and we can talk about getting a restraining order on this lady.” Hank said. You were about to argue but you knew he was right. So you you nodded as Hank stood up and left one last kiss on your head before heading out of his office. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Be careful.”

Hank turned just as he was passed the doorway and smirked, “I’m always careful.”

“Oh-kay.” You said, sarcasm in your voice as you could hear your dad chuckle then head towards the interrogation rooms. 

TAGS:  @l4life​ @ithoughtiwasflying 

[ichor-and-symbiosis]

Obedient. (Shigaraki x f!Reader; NSFW)

Commission for @kazooli​.

Shigaraki knows you are upset. Not that he needs to use his intuitive perceptiveness to notice your downtrodden mood -- you are, and always will be, an open book of emotions. 

You try to be on your best behavior. You always try. Nobody needs to see their teammate moping around the decrepit hideout when everyone has their own problems to deal with. It could always be worse, you tell yourself. And you need to stay strong for your leader. 

But he knows. Finds you pouting on the ripped up sofa, even though you are the one who should come to him when called. You look up at him with your doe-eyed, downtrodden expression, and Shigaraki’s expressionless eyes sweep over you before walking past. Your gaze lingers on his broad back, wishing you could reach out and grasp the fabric of his coat just to keep him around a little longer. 

He pauses in front of the door. “Come with me,” he commands, and you are on your feet before you even think to ask why or where you are going.

-

The exhilaration of walking by your leader’s side through winding streets is enough to keep your mouth shut. Better to be quiet for now, anyway. Better to move like a shadow, like Shigaraki’s shadow. It must be a mission. You keep your eyes and ears sharp and primed, ready to take on the next challenge. 

Until Dabi’s words ring through your mind and you feel yourself deflating all over again.

Shigaraki pays no attention to you. He leads and leads, guides you towards a destination only he knows, and you are grateful for the chance to simply follow. You try not to question him when he stops at a food stall. Two orders of takoyaki, spoken with a quiet, serious request. Your stomach grumbles and you grip it in embarrassment. When was the last time you ate?

The worker holds out your meal. Shigaraki looks at you expectantly, and you realize he wants you to take it. And you do, rushed and mousy as you thank the worker, and then you spend the next minute mentally berating yourself for saying thank you at all. You are a villain. Why would you thank a random nobody? You should be thanking your leader instead. And you do.

He offers a grunt and keeps walking. Your heart flutters at the sound. 

You end your journey on a rooftop. The building is not familiar to you, and you doubt Shigaraki knows it either. A random building with a roof that smells like asphalt and cigarettes. You take a deep breath as the wind wafts the takoyaki steam toward you, and your stomach growls demandingly. 

You wedge yourselves into a narrow space, hidden from surveillance or anyone who may come onto the roof. Your only view is that of Shigaraki sitting across from you and you are perfectly okay with that. Very okay with that, in fact, especially since his legs are forced to bend and rest on either side of you. Your only choice is to sit cross-legged for his comfort, and you try your very best to avoid staring at his crotch.

It’s right there in front of you. He just brazenly has his legs spread out and brushing along your knees and you shove the takoyaki into your drooling mouth to keep yourself occupied. All you would need to do is bend forward, and it wouldn’t be the takoyaki in your mouth anymore. It would be something else entirely, something musky and warm and solid, and you squirm in your spot as heat pools below your belly. 

Shigaraki silently eats the first stick of takoyaki and sets the box aside. You pause your eating and wait, because he has that pensive look in his eyes right now. His arms are limp and resting on his knees, and you allow yourself to admire his beautiful hands. Beautiful to you, long and slender fingers, blue veins peeking through pale skin, oh how desperately you want him to touch you - 

“So.” The word hangs in the air between you. You stare at him, obediently waiting for him to continue. He doesn’t look at you. “What happened.” 

“U-um … “ You wrack your brain as your anxiety builds. Did you do something wrong? Were his plans compromised? “I’m sorry, I don’t - “ 

“You’ve been looking like a kicked dog all day.” 

“Oh.” You muster up a weak smile. “It’s nothing serious. Maybe I was just hungry, or … you know. Present circumstances and all that.” 

“Don’t lie to me.” 

Perceptive. You don’t want to burden him. It really was such a silly disagreement with Dabi. “Really, it’s - “

He says your name. You look at him, transfixed by his solemn stare. His eyes are sharp, commanding. “Tell me.” 

And you do. Nothing at first, trapped in your throat, and then all at once.

“Dabi is just such an asshole,” you blurt out, and Shigaraki’s snort encourages you to word vomit. “He took me with him on a scouting mission and things didn’t go as planned and he kept blaming me! He said it was my fault and that - and that I’m … useless.” Your head hangs in shame as you stare hard into your lap. “He said I’m useless and that the League doesn’t need me. So I’ve been thinking all day about that. If I wasn’t useful to society and I’m not useful to the League, then ... “ You don’t know where your trail of thought was going. “I don’t want to feel useless,” you whisper. “I don’t want to hold anyone back. I don’t want to waste your time like - like right now.” 

Shigaraki waits for you to finish. He looks a little surprised. “That’s a lot.”

Your mouth gapes like a fish before you shut it tight and dig your nails into your thighs, hoping the pain would counteract your burning embarrassment threatening to swallow you whole. “Sorry. I talk a lot.” 

He eyes you with a calculated expression while you silently flounder in your awkwardness. “Come here,” he suddenly says, and your confusion makes him grow impatient. “Turn around. Back to my front.” He motions to the space between his legs. “Right here, puppy girl.” 

You nearly choke on your gasp.

Your body moves mechanically, too stunned by shock to make your body look anything other than enticing. You sit as he directed, back to his front, and wrap your arms around your knees as you try to calm your breathing. A gap remains between you, because there is no way Shigaraki would want you pressed up against him, except he does and you let out a startled squeak when he places his arms beneath your thighs, spreads your legs over his, and makes you lean back onto him. 

“What are you doing?” you breathe out, heart stammering in your chest as you soak up his body heat and pray to god that this moment will never end. 

“Testing out your obedience,” he off-handedly comments, and your clothed cunt immediately becomes flooded from the vibrations of his voice, the low rumble so close to your ear. His hands move to grip your forearms, and you jolt at the contact, all wired up with frayed nerves and anticipation. “I want to know what makes you think I’m wasting my time here.” 

“W-we’re talking about me.” 

“Yeah. And you know what I learned?” His mouth is close to your ear now. You shiver at the feeling of his breath tickling your skin. “I learned that you’re not at the top of your game right now. You’re drowning - “ He taps a finger to your temple. “ - from all of these fuzzy little thoughts in your head. And I can’t have an obedient puppy girl if she’s thinking too much.” 

“I - “ 

“Quiet.” One hand cups your throat, middle finger poised over your pulse. The hold is firm and encompassing around your neck. It makes you tremble with desire. “We have to get rid of those thoughts, don’t we?” His other hand brazenly cups your mound, and you let out the most pathetic sound of your life. “There’s a lot of ways to release pent up feelings,” he continues conversationally, fingers delving past the waistband of your bottoms. “I’m feeling charitable enough to help you out.” 

Your endless stream of thoughts fizzle out as soon as he finds your swollen clit. “Thank you,” you sob, gripping his arm and gyrating your hips for more of his touch. “Thank you, thank you, thank you - “ 

The hand at your throat moves up to cover your mouth. “Shhh.” Fingertip moves lower, runs itself through the slickness oozing out of your tight heat. “Relax.” You whimper brokenly, slump back against him as he rubs your clit in feather-light strokes. His hand moves from your mouth and rests on your temple, fingers buried in your hair. “This is what you’re good for.”

Shigaraki is not an expert by any means. Sometimes he loses his momentum, rubs too hard or too slowly, doesn’t really know how to set a proper pace. But you have never felt more wet before. Never has your heart raced this quickly, never has a simple touch driven you to mindless pleasure. 

He plunges inside you unexpectedly, shushing you once more as you let out a wordless cry, and even through the pain of being stretched far too soon, you feel your pussy loosen to accommodate your beloved leader’s thick fingers. He works you open good and proper, thorough in his thrusting, forcing you to take him down to the last knuckle. You lie there and take it, moaning and writhing in his lap as he fucks your sloppy cunt. 

“Just let it all out,” he murmurs in your ear. “It’s not good to keep the bad shit locked away inside. Or else one day … “ His fingers ease out of your pussy and leave a trail of juices clinging to his fingertips. You try your best not to whine as he brings his fingers up for inspection. “ … It’s all gonna come pouring out.” 

You don’t know what he is trying to do. You don’t know what he wants from you when his fingers tap against your bottom lip, but your mouth falls open all the same to let him smear your juices onto your tongue. A pathetic, desperate whimper escapes as you taste yourself on his fingers. And you taste him. Your leader’s fingers are buried in your warm mouth and your stretched cunt contracts from dizzy exhilaration. 

Your tongue licks away the evidence of your arousal, and for one delirious moment you think you hear Shigaraki hum in approval. He pops the digits out of your mouth and you begin to ramble before you can stop yourself. “Y-you don’t … have to do this,” you shyly stutter, cheeks burning from shame as his hand drops back between your trembling thighs. “I was being dumb, I’ll get over it, you d-don’t have to worry about me like this - “ 

You break off into a choked gasp as he traps your clit between two fingers and slowly runs them up and down. 

“It’s fine,” he murmurs, lets your head fall back onto his shoulder. “A leader takes care of his subordinates.” 

A burst of emotions burns your chest at the statement. How could something sound so detached yet intimate? You wonder what this means to him. You wonder if he’s done this for anyone else. The very thought of it makes tears well up behind your closed eyelids, but you do not let them fall. This is your special moment with your leader. Here and now, he chose to take care of you. You focus on those words instead, focus on how full they make you feel, just as his fingertip rubs your soaked entrance and slips back inside with ease. 

“Just trust me,” he murmurs. “I’m gonna train this greedy puppycunt to only think about me.”

Shigaraki keeps talking. He is so, so chatty, and it is hard to focus on his monologuing through the sound of your wet pussy being played with so thoroughly and invasively. You bury your face in his neck to stifle the whiny demands on the tip of your tongue, ignoring your monumental need for him to stop talking and just kiss you. It’s a selfish thought. Your leader is speaking to you. You should listen, you should let him take care of you, you have to trust him, you have to chase the high and let go, just as he always does on the battlefield. 

“You’re doing so well for me.” 

A heavy pit of pleasure builds deep within. 

“Always so obedient.” 

The thumb buried in your hair strokes slowly. 

“My favorite puppy.”

Your pussy clenches, fighting to suck him in and keep him inside. 

“Mine.” 

You come with a shrill keen, trembling and shaking through your orgasm as Shigaraki’s fingers pump in and out, squelching and sloshing your juices as loudly as he can. Your mind is adrift, completely gone. All you can do is lay limp in his arms and breathe heavily, letting him settle your underwear back over your messy cunt. 

There is silence for a moment. Only the sound of your breathing. His hand settles over the top of your head properly this time, ruffling your hair in a movement that might have been accidental if not for the fact that Shigaraki never makes mistakes. “I like you like this,” he says. “No thoughts or worries. Just a properly trained cunt and an obedient subordinate.” You smile a little at that. If only he knew how badly you wanted to be used by him. “I decide who’s useful to me, not Dabi. You’re around for a reason, got it?” 

Your heart aches with happiness. “Yes sir. I’m yours.” 

[liluwrites]

Sugar High

Characters: Lithuania x Poland, N. Italy

Word Count: 3k

Summary: Feliks knows how to handle the highs and lows of his diabetes, and the complications that come with it. But romance is another matter entirely – and when a kind stranger stops to help him in the street, he finds himself thrown into the chaos of awkwardness, flirting, and the possibility of second chances. A huge thank you to @gnostic-heretic and @lotusdumpling for beta reading this fic, you guys are awesome!

It’s not entirely a surprise when his body decides to try to kill him.

He’s been feeling it coming for the best part of an hour, but there’s not much he can do to stave off the oncoming hypo when he’s in a lecture with a professor who whips around at the sound of a package crinkling or the barely audible hiss of a carbonated drink. Most professors are fairly chill, but this one won’t even let him bring coffee without a vicious glare. Perhaps if Feliks were less awkward, he would argue his (extremely valid) point that he has diabetes and without access to food he could, well, die. But he’s a socially anxious mess, so instead he stays quiet and tries not to pass out. Once the lecture is finally over, he stands shakily and heads for his dorm. Feliciano will already be home, and the moment they see him they’ll be bombarding him with Lucozade and far too many slices of toast. He smiles at the thought. Feliciano is ridiculously motherly for a nineteen-year-old, and Feliks wouldn’t change them for the world. Unfortunately, he doesn’t make it to Feliciano, because by the time he’s turning the corner to head towards the dorm, his head starts swimming and his legs quiver, and he finds himself slowly sinking to sit against the brick wall with his head ducked between his knees. With trembling hands, he reaches for his monitoring kit and clicks the needle against the pad of his index finger, then waits for the reading. 2.8 He sucks in a breath. Not good. Very not good. Especially sitting alone against a wall on a quiet afternoon on campus, with no one around to offer help. The humid air is closing in around him, suffocating, and perhaps if he called out someone would come to him - but he can’t, he can’t, he can’t. He can’t bear for anyone to see him like this. He just needs Feliciano. But his phone had died partway through the lecture, and his dorm is around a corner and up six flights of stairs, and there’s no way he can get there without collapsing. He can feel his heart stuttering in his chest, and his skin is prickling, although he can’t tell if it’s from anxiety or because this is the worst hypo he’s had in a while and he might actually fucking die. He’s gonna die. Oh fuck, he’s gonna die he’s gonna die he’s gonna die – “Are you alright?” The voice sounds strange, as if it’s coming from underwater. Feliks looks up and sees a face leaning over him, unfocused – pale skin and soft brown hair and green eyes - and then there’s a hand reaching out and hovering above him, as if they want to touch him but don’t quite dare. “Do you need, uh, water or anything?”

 He closes his eyes briefly and forces another breath into his leaden lungs. “Won’t help.”

 “Shit, what can I do to help you? I don’t know how to help you.”

 The urgency in his voice makes Feliks’ throat tighten. “Juice,” he whispers.

 “I - what? Oh, shit, yeah, I’ve got juice, is orange okay?” Feliks resists the urge to roll his eyes. “Right, let me just - “ There’s the thump of a backpack hitting the ground, followed by rummaging and muffled curses, and then he’s pressing something into Feliks’ palm, something small and square with sharp corners – a juice box!

With a wave of almost nauseating relief, Feliks takes the plastic straw in his lips and sucks. The orange juice is sticky and acidic against his tongue. It makes him feel slightly sick, but he’s never been more grateful. Thank god for kind strangers. “Does that help?” The tentative voice sounds again, closer this time. Feliks looks up. The kind stranger is crouching in front of him, his backpack lying on the ground at his feet. He’s watching him intently with concerned eyes. “You don’t need an ambulance, do you?” Feliks shakes his head. The movement feels heavy and syrupy, but everything is slightly more focused now – and yeah, maybe he’s not going to die, after all. Anxiety brain can be a bitch. “No, I’m okay. This happens a lot.” This makes Kind Stranger look even more alarmed. “A lot? I don’t think that’s normal.” Despite his kind of pathetic situation, he chokes a laugh. “It’s fine. I have diabetes. Hypos aren’t great, but I can deal with them.” “Oh, okay.” He seems relieved by this information. “I was worried it might’ve been because of the heat. Heatstroke can be pretty serious.” Feliks gives him a wan smile. “So can diabetes.” He immediately feels guilty when Kind Stranger recoils, stricken. “Oh no, I didn’t mean it isn’t serious! I’m so sorry, of course it’s serious! I just meant – “ “It’s okay, I was joking.” “Oh…haha…” Kind Stranger rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Even so, I’m sorry. I can be pretty tactless. I’m not great with people.” Feliks looks at his earnest expression and wonders why someone like him wouldn’t be popular. Surely his kindness should attract good friends like moths to a light. “Seriously, you’re fine. Neither am I. I’m not good at talking to strangers.” Kind Stranger cracks a tiny smile. “You’re talking to me.” Feliks smiles back. “I guess I am.” He reaches over and lightly taps the juice box. “Drink some more. You’re still shaking.” Obediently, he pokes the straw back into his mouth and takes another sip. “You sound like my roommate. They always fuss.” “I think I have a right to fuss,” he says, with a defensive pout that is actually kind of cute. “You almost passed out in front of me.” “Touché.” They fall silent, and Feliks concentrates on sipping at his juice box and feeling the consciousness return to his body. Kind Stranger sits quietly in front of him, watching him with soft eyes and a gentle smile. Feliks can’t meet his gaze without blushing. He’s very cute, he thinks, despite his ugly sweater vest and bitten-down nails. Feliks wouldn’t mind seeing him again, perhaps in better circumstances. “What’s your name?” He asks impulsively. Kind Stranger blinks. “Uh, Toris. Laurinaitis. I’m an astrophysics major.” “Your name is almost as bad as mine. Feliks Łukasiewicz. I study Literature.” “Oh, Literature. That must be interesting.” Feliks grins at him. “You think it sounds terrible, don’t you?” Toris’ eyes widen and he holds out his hands in defence. “No, no! It’s just, my dyslexia makes reading kind of difficult for me, but I’m sure as an area of study it’s fascinating – “ “If it’s any consolation, science makes me want to cry.” “Honestly? Same.” They both laugh. “But it's the closest I'll ever get to my childhood dream of going into space.” Feliks blinks at him. “Why can't you? Follow your dreams and all that.” He taps the thin wire rim of his glasses. “Don’t have 20/20 vision.” “I don’t think I could go into space either,” he consoles him. “Anyway, I cry on rollercoasters, I'm not sure I could handle a rocket.” Toris pulls a face. “I went on a rollercoaster once. Never again.” Feliks laughs and drains the last drops of his juice box. He’s feeling a lot better now – a little weak and shaky, perhaps, but no longer on the verge of death. A warm shower and a slice of Feliciano's home-made pizza sounds perfect right now, but more than that, he doesn’t want to stop talking. “Toris,” he says gravely, looking him straight in the eye. “I have something serious to ask you, something that could make or break our friendship.” “Our – ? Oh, okay!” Toris flushes slightly, looking pleased. He swallows. “Go ahead.” He seems slightly terrified, but Feliks can't help but drag out the silence teasingly, before he asks, “In your professional opinion, does Pluto still count as a planet?” Toris sits up straight. “Pluto will always be a planet. Fight me.” “I like you.” Perhaps he wouldn’t normally be so blunt, but his mind still feels hazy and scrambled. “Yeah, I definitely like you.” “Thank you?” Toris says, and he’s a blushing mess, and Feliks might be slightly in love. Awkwardly, Toris casts his eyes about for a distraction. “Are you feeling better?” Feliks smiles. Toris is definitely like Feliciano. “I'm fine now, seriously.” He unpacks his monitor and checks again. “Look, 3.9. That’s almost normal.” “Oh.” Hesitantly, he asks, “Doesn’t it hurt? The needle? Oh no, was that an insensitive question? I'm sorry – “ He laughs and cuts him off. “Don’t worry, you’re fine. It doesn’t hurt anymore, I've been doing it since I was eight. You get used to it.” “I guess you would,” Toris says. “You can get used to anything.” Toris’ phone chimes, and he swipes a finger across the screen and rolls his eyes fondly. “Oh, for God’s sake, Alfred.” “Who's Alfred?” A boyfriend? he wonders, looking at the affectionate expression on his face. “My roommate. He's an idiot and a dickhead but I love him.” “Oh, your roommate. Good.” That strikes a chord in Feliks' mind as he suddenly remembers; “Oh, fuck! Feliciano! They’ll be worried.” “I can message them,” Toris offers, already whipping out his phone again. Feliks sighs in relief and gives him Feliciano's number. “Just tell them I'm outside the dorm and I had a hypo.” Barely two minutes later, Feliciano arrives, half-running with their phone in one hand and a bottle of Lucozade in the other. They reach them and scoop Feliks into such a tight hug they lift him bodily from the ground, then pull back to say, Why didn’t you message me sooner? You frightened me! Drink this. They thrust the Lucozade at him, and Feliks smiles and pushes it gently away. I'm okay, T-O-R-I-S gave me a juice box. I’m fine, I promise. Feliciano eyes him critically. T-O-R-I-S? Feliks gestures to Toris, who is lingering beside them with an awkward half-smile. He found me here and stayed with me and gave me some juice, he’s really kind! And he studies astrophysics, and he doesn’t like rollercoasters either, and! And he knows that Pluto’s still a planet. Feliciano gives him a sideways look, smiling knowingly. Feliks blushes and rolls his eyes. Licking their lips nervously, Feliciano turns to Toris and clears their throat. “Thank you for looking after Feliks,” they enunciate carefully. Their intonation is slightly irregular, but otherwise their speech is very clear, and Feliks gives them a proud smile. Toris nods, looking equally nervous, then hesitantly curves his hand in towards his chest. You’re welcome. Feliks grins as he watches Feliciano’s face light up. Toris clearly isn’t fluent in ASL, or anywhere close, but just the effort is enough to make Feliciano overjoyed, and he can literally feel himself falling for Toris. Anyone who makes his best friend smile like that is someone special. Feliciano flings their arms around Toris, who looks startled but pleased as he hugs them back. Carefully, Feliciano eases Feliks up from the wall and steadies him when his head spins, and Toris picks up his bag off the ground and helps him hang it over his shoulder. He checks his levels again, and he’s pretty much normal now, but he’s dying for some carbs. They linger at the corner for a moment, neither of them wanting to leave. “You can come up to the dorm with us, if you want,” Feliks offers impulsively. “Number 132. I bet Feliciano will make you some pizza.” “I will,” they confirm, their voice stronger and more confident. “But not pineapple because that’s blasphemous.” Feliks pulls a face behind their back, and Toris stifles a laugh. “I wish I could, but I’ve already missed half a lecture.” A spear of guilt stabs into him. “Shit, I’m sorry.” “Don’t apologise!” Feliciano and Toris exclaim in unison. They smile at each other, and Toris continues, “Seriously, it’s fine. I’m glad I had the chance to meet you, Feliks.” “You, too.” And then Toris is waving at them and walking away, and Feliks is not expecting the sadness that washes over him, because he doesn’t want this to be an ending. Rationally, he knows that Toris only stopped to help him because he’s a kind person, and now the crisis is averted, he has no obligation to stay in his life – but he’d felt something between them, and it hurts a little to think that Toris didn’t feel feel the same. He wants to call out to him, but Toris is already turning the corner and Feliciano is guiding him into the elevator in the lobby, and everything is back to normal. So, Feliciano says as soon as the elevator doors slide shut. T-O-R-I-S, hm? Feliks just sighs and shakes his head, pushing their hands away. Feliciano shrugs. Pizza, then? Feliks gives them a weak smile. Yeah, pizza. Extra pineapple. You heathen. Feliks laughs half-heartedly. His mind is still distracted with thoughts of Toris, and the regret of fuck, he should’ve got his number. Yeah, this is definitely an ending. With a sigh, he follows Feliciano into the dorm and shuts the door behind them. *** Feliks has no classes the next day, so he rises late and spends the morning padding around the dorm in his pink bathrobe, sipping at a decaf americano. He has a ton of work to do, but it’s one of those beautiful summer mornings with silky white light making patterns against the floorboards, and he wants to lament elegantly over his lost chance at romance like a tragic heroine. Feliciano, a revoltingly cheerful morning person, makes them both pancakes, then sprawls on their stomach on the floor, taking advantage of the perfect lighting to snap aesthetic photos of flowers for their Instagram. It’s a quiet, lazy Saturday, so Feliks is totally unprepared for the knock at the door. Expecting it to be some idiot from next door wanting to borrow detergent or something, he drags himself off the couch and slouches over to the door, tugging it open with a yawn. “Yes?” Then he freezes. “Oh, shit, Toris.” In an instant, his mind registers exactly how he must look; tattered pink gown, chipped nail polish, barefoot, bedhead – an utter mess. He kind of wants to slam the door in Toris’ face, but that would be a dick move, and his heart has already leapt into his throat at the sight of him. Toris’ shy smile drops slightly. “Oh…did I come at a bad time? Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude.” “Wait, no, fuck, I am happy to see you. I’m really happy to see you. I just look disgusting right now.” “I think you look fine,” Toris says earnestly, and Feliks feels his face heat up. “Um, I just wanted to make sure you were okay?” Feliks blinks at him. “Why wouldn’t I be?” “Well, you know,” he shifts his feet uncomfortably. “After yesterday. I wanted to check that you’re feeling better.” He stares at him for a moment, then splutters with laughter and pushes him playfully. “Oh, Toris! Hypos don’t last that long – I’m fine, see? I was fine right after I got back to the dorm.” “Oh.” His face is flushed, but he manages a tiny rueful grin. “Sorry, I don’t know very much yet. I googled it, you know. Diabetes. I wanted to know what to do if something happened again, how to help in the future.” Feliks looks at him with wide eyes, lost and confused and a little hopeful. “In the future?” If possible, Toris’ face turns even more red. “I mean, only if you want to, of course. But like, I thought maybe you’d want to hang out again, as friends or – more? Shit, sorry, that’s going way too fast. But – I thought you might want to get coffee with me?” He says the last part in a rush, merging his words together and focusing intently on the ground. For a moment, Feliks is stunned. Then, slowly, a smile spreads across his face. “Hey, Toris.” He waits until he looks up at him. “I would love to.” Toris’ whole posture relaxes in relief, and his face lights up like the sun appearing through the clouds. “When?” “This afternoon?” Toris nods eagerly. “Yes, please, this afternoon.” “Okay, this afternoon.” “Okay.” “Okay.” They stand there for a long moment, grinning at each other like idiots. Feliks’ face hurts from smiling so much. He feels like he could stay like this forever, lingering in the doorway to his dorm, but he can’t help but ruin the moment. “Maybe okay will be our always.” Toris groans and pushes him in the chest, and he stumbles back a step, laughing. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” “You should be.” And then they’re laughing again, and Feliks is asking, “Do you want to come in? You can have a pancake.” “Why do you always bribe me with food, Feliks Łukasiewicz?” He absolutely butchers his last name, but Feliks doesn’t care. It’s cute, coming from Toris. “What else would you like me to bribe you with?” He wriggles his eyebrows seductively, and Toris groans again and flushes deeply. It’s adorable how easily he blushes. “So do you want to come in?” “I’m really sorry, I wish I could, but I’m meeting Alfred and his boyfriend for an early lunch.” He smiles regretfully. “But I’ll see you this afternoon, yeah?” He smiles back. “Yeah.” “Okay.” “Okay.” Toris smirks. “Okay.” “Go away.” Feliks pushes him out of the doorway, laughing. “Go eat lunch. I’ll see you later.” “Goodbye, Feliks.” Toris waves at him as he turns down the corridor. “I’ll see you.” He waits until Toris has started to walk down the stairs, then slams the door shut and spins to face Feliciano. His roommate is standing behind him, hands on their hips and a delighted grin plastered across their face. I don’t believe it. My baby has a date! You’re barely a year older than me, he protests. Feliciano just tuts and opens their arms. Feliks runs to them, flings his arms around their neck, and spins them both around in the middle of the floor, faster and faster until they’re dizzy and breathless, because Feliks has a date. With Toris Laurinaitis. And nothing, he thinks, could be better than that. *** He arrives at the coffee shop at just past four o’clock. Although Feliciano has done everything to make him feel brave – repainting his nails a pastel pink, dabbing his lips with shimmering gloss and a touch of silver sparkles on his eyelids, picking out a perfectly-coordinated ‘casual’ outfit from their combined wardrobes and completing it with a silk scarf draped elegantly around his neck – he’s trembling a little, and he waits outside the shop for a few minutes, taking deep breaths to compose himself. Through the wide window, he can see Toris sitting at a table for two. It’s reassuring to see that he looks as nervous Feliks feels – he’s fidgeting with his clasped hands, chewing on his lower lip and glancing anxiously towards the door. Perhaps he thinks Feliks isn’t coming. Perhaps he thinks Feliks has lied to him, stood him up, or has even just forgotten. As if he could forget. He’s been thinking about this all day, as Feliciano danced around him, getting him all dressed up and pretty. He looks down at his outfit, smiling. A light coral shirt combined with his cropped denim jacket with silver buttons and his Pride pin, a pair of Feliciano’s shorts, and white sandals that show off his freshly-painted toenails. A butterfly-printed canvas handbag containing his phone and wallet and insulin pen is slung casually over one shoulder. He takes a deep breath. You look beautiful, Feliciano had told him resolutely before he had left. Even more beautiful than usual. Stunning. Gorgeous. Eye-catching. Absolutely magnificent – Shut up! He had complained, giggling, but he’s grateful for the compliments now. If Toris had thought he looked good in his ancient bathrobe, or when he was doubled over on the street trying not to pass out, then surely he’ll like him in this. Hopefully, he’ll like him in anything. He walks to the entrance and pauses. Lowers his shoulders, straightens his back, lifts his chin high. Then, he summons all his strength and steps through the doorway. The way Toris looks at him makes everything okay. His face lights up, radiant, his smile so bright it makes him glow. His hair falls to his shoulders in loose waves, a deep chestnut brown highlighted bronze in the afternoon sunlight. Feliks could look at him forever; his hair, his smile, his eyes. And as he walks towards him, pulls out a chair, sits down, his heart is buzzing with the thought that this isn’t an ending after all: it’s only the beginning. Fin.

[roguetatertot]

Rules: Answer these 85 questions and tag 20 people

IDK who to tag. oAo

Tagged by: @kimievii​

What was your last…

1. Drink: Coffee!!!!

2. Phone call:  My mommy about some cute curtains she got for my Grandpa.

3. Text message:  To my brother about my new modem.

4. Song you listened to: Something on Diamond City Radio in Fallout 4...but can’t remember which one it was.

5. Time you cried: Like two weeks ago when I saw something sad on Facebook about a dog’s final day, and then I cried into my dog (who wanted nothing to do with me at the moment....the jerk)

Have you ever…

6. Dated someone twice: Yep. My first boyfriend. He broke up with me on my birthday and then exactly one month later he came crawling back to me.

7. Kissed someone and regretted it: Nope.

8. Been cheated on: I’m like 95% certain my first boyfriend cheated on me.

9. Lost someone special: Do pets count?

10. Been depressed: What? Me? Depressed? HAH! (That’s sarcasm btw) 

11. Gotten drunk and thrown up: Nope. I don’t like alcohol. 

Fave colours

12. I was so obsessed with turquoise that I got entirely sick of it.

13. My old favorite color used to be red.

14. I really don’t have one right now I guess.

In the last year have you…

15. Made new friends: Sadly no. 

16. Fallen out of love: Nope.

17. Laughed until you cried: While watching The Disaster Artist, I think.

18. Found out someone was talking about you: No, but I don’t care if people are anyway.

19. Met someone who changed you: Not in the last year, no.

20. Found out who your friends are: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

21. Kissed someone on your Facebook friends list: Nope.

General

22. How many your Facebook friends do you know irl: Most! I have a few internet friends on there that I’ve never met in real life.

23. Do you have any pets: Three cats, a dog, a turtle, fish, and I dunno if my 2000+ worms count in my compost worm tower?

24. Do you want to change your name: No way. I love my name. Although I would change my surname to be one of the traditional Irish spellings. It got hacked up and changed when my great grandpa came here from Ireland.

25. What did you do for your last birthday: My brother and I are two years and two weeks apart so we celebrated our birthdays together on my birthday. The family gathered here at my house and we ate our favorite childhood meal that my mom used to cook! And we had a huge black forest cake which was sooooo gooooood!

26. What time did you wake up today: 10:30ish

27. What were you doing at midnight last night: Beating Fallout 4 (sided with the Railroad). I feel like I should’ve sided with the Institute after all was said and done, but oh well.

28. What is something you can’t wait for: Getting the FUCK out of San Jose, CA. I absolutely ABHOR living here and want to move to Oregon or Washington. This city has gone down hill and is just one giant cesspool of trash and trashy people.

29. What is your favorite animal: It used to be pigs, but I got burnt out from all the piggy things people would give me. I really don’t have a favorite. I love all animals....except sloths. Ugh.

30. What are you listening to right now: I’m listening to my dog panting. We just got done playing fetch in the yard.

31. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: Yep! My grandpa’s name was Tom! Tom Tucker. He was a remarkable man and had some fantastic tales of his youth. He once was flying an airplane and thought he spotted a friend fishing down on some docks, so he dropped his cargo of tomatoes on him. Turns out it wasn’t his friend, but the mayor of the town. Oops.

32. Something that’s getting on your nerves: The city I live in. It’s so fucking noisy. Car horns, motorcycles, speeding vehicles, sirens....it’s all giving me bad anxiety as of late. I can’t stand it anymore. I can’t stand any loud noises, or really any noise at all now. Maybe I’m just getting old and grumpy. lol

33. Most visited website: I guess just google to google things. Or maybe Amazon.

34. Hair color: Right now it’s a mix of my natural medium brown with very faded blue and purple streaks. My hairdresser was sick when she bleached my hair and did my color, and so she didn’t do a good job bleaching it at all. It’s uneven and just.....icky right now.

35. Long or short hair: Having had all lengths, I think long hair looks the best on me. I love the ease of short hair, but my hair is so pretty that it’s kind of a waste to have it short.

36. Do you have a crush on someone: Actor Sam Heughan at the moment. But as far as someone I actually have contact with? No, no one. I’ve no interest in having interest, if that makes sense.

37. What do you like about yourself: I guess it’s my McGuyver-like brain. I can come up with some wacky solutions/fixes to issues or problems. 

38. Want any piercings: Nah, I already have enough. In fact, I have three in each ear and I don’t even bother wearing earrings. They’re pointless.

39. Blood type: O+

40. Nicknames: Ziggy, Adriee, Adri, Sissy-Boo, my dad calls me Squirt, and my mom calls me Momma or Mommas. LOL go figure

41. Relationship status: Single and loving it

42. Sign: Pisces

43. Pronouns: she/her, although recently my dad called me Sir for some reason and I was like “Meh cool whatever.”

44. Fave tv show: Bob’s Burgers!

45. Tattoos: I really want one of my kitty’s paw, but I can’t afford it. Nor do I have a design in mind.

46. Right or left handed: Ambidextrous!

47. Ever had surgery: Yup. Microdisectomy on my lumbar spine back in 2009. I actually need orthognathic surgery, but that’s gonna be difficult to have done.

48. Piercings: Three in each ear, and my nose.

49. Sport: Hockey! Baseball is okay too. 

50. Vacation: I really want to go to Scotland, Ireland, and basically all of Scandinavia.

51. Trainers: As in Pokémon or....?

More General

52. Eating: Nothing at the moment. Thinking about raiding my fridge soon.

53. Drinking: Watered down cranberry juice.

54. I’m about watch: IDK not in the mood to watch anything. I’m thinking about firing up Fallout again tho.

55. Waiting for: My workers comp case and Social Security Disability case to come to an end. It’s been going on for seven years and I’m just so over it all.

56. Want: To have my children’s books published. ; u ;

57. Get married: Ew gross no. I honestly can’t picture myself married anymore. That was something younger me used to daydream about, but now that I’m older and much more comfortable with myself, I don’t even entertain the idea. I don’t think I would ever trust anyone to fully love me anyway. 

58. Career: Author. Hopefully a beloved and successful author of a children’s book series.

Which is better

59. Hugs or kisses: Neither, thanks. I don’t even really like when my family hugs me.

60. Lips or eyes: Eyes

61. Taller or shorter: I would hope taller, seeing as I’m short enough already as it is.

62. Older or younger: Older

63. Nice arms or stomach: I have a thing for arms.

64. Hookups or relationships: Neither.

65. Troublemaker or hesitant: Troublemaker. I love deviousness.

Have you ever

66. Kissed a stranger: Gross no.

67. Drank hard liquor: Yes but ew.

68. Turned someone down: Yep, especially when I worked graveyard at Walgreens. :T Got a lot of creepy men asking me out all the time. Shudder.

69. Sex on first date: Hahaha yeah right. I don’t even really like hugging on the first date. LOL About a year ago I went out on a date with some dude off OKCupid and as we were saying goodbye, he leaned towards me while closing his eyes and I just went “NOPE.” and got out of his car.

70. Broken someone’s heart: Probably.

71. Had your heart broken: Yep. Twice. 

72. Been arrested: Not yet, but hey things could happen.

73. Cried when someone died: I cry when fictional characters die, so yes I have cried when actual people have died. 

74. Fallen for a friend: Nope.

Do you believe in

75. Yourself: As in that I exist? Sometimes.

76. Miracles: I’ve been witness to a few strange things happening, so I guess so. 

77. Love at first sight: Hell no, what am I, ten? Love at first sight is not real. It’s infatuation at first sight.

78. Santa Claus: I mean, why not? What’s the harm in entertaining the idea?

79. Angels: In a strictly mainstream religious concept? No.

Misc

80. Eye color: Hazel, gold in certain light.

81. Best friend’s name: Django, my doggie. <3

82. Favorite movie: Pan’s Labyrinth.

83. Favorite actor: Sam Heughan! Nnghgjkhsjdkghsd

84. Favorite cartoon: Toss up between Bob’s Burgers and BoJack Horseman.

85. Favorite teacher’s name: I guess it’d have to be my first grade teacher, Mrs. Little. When I was in the second grade, I would get horrible anxiety when there would be a project (like art or something). I’d cry for some reason, and the teacher got so frustrated with me that one time she kicked me out of the class. Mrs. Little was on a break at the time and so she took me out of school and drove me to her house while she did a quick errand (I’m pretty sure she called my parents and got permission first). She was nice to me and calmed me down. ; u ; Years later I saw her in a clothing store and she recognized me, and was so excited to see me. She told my mom that I was her favorite back then. <3