Thatsmeannie22 - Annie

I forgot how difficult it actually is to play TLOU like sometimes I am struggling big time

Maybe it’s just me I don’t know 🤷🏻‍♀️

I could literally die for her

ARCANE LEAGUE OF LEGENDS: 1x09 - "The Monster You Created"

what the hell is wrong with her shes insane.

like the moaning?? HELLO?????

The never ending your turn photoshoot x love all the new ones we get xx

Ekko brought the Jinx out in Powder for a second.

౨ৎ ⋆ ｡˚

no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponential, logarithmic, while I gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, doggy, backwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bouncy house, in the pool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe-curling, back arching, leg shaking, pussy throbbing, fist clenching, ear ringing, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling, teeth jitterbug, mind-blowing, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy, moan inducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious, gushy, creamy, beastly, lip biting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, body shivering, orgasmic, bone-breaking, world ending, blackhole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy, can't walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcano erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail scratching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell desolving, hair ripping, show-stopping, magnificent, unique, extraordinary, splendid, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly, awakening, devil’s tango ever, while I gasp for air and scream the lord’s prayer, she can top me. she could cause a nuclear bomb inside me and I'd still ride.

౨ৎ ⋆ ｡˚

(fanart by @toem777 on instagram)

Mary Janes - headcanons

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.☁︎

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pre relationship

Jinx loved winding Y/N up, especially when it came to her precious, meticulously organized notes. She’d scribble crude doodles over the margins, sometimes even between Y/N’s perfect lines of text. Y/N’s skin would burn, and of course that only made Jinx do it more.

Y/N kept a literal clipboard—like, a real, physical clipboard—where she documented every single time Jinx pissed her off. We’re talking dates, times, categorized offenses, and passive-aggressive annotations in red pen. “Disrupted lecture with unsolicited kazoo solo,” “Graffiti in locker again (phallus-shaped??),” “Stole highlighter, replaced with crayon.”

Jinx had a habit of stealing Y/N’s favorite pens—not out of necessity, but pure, unfiltered spite. She knew Y/N would spiral, tearing through her bag like a woman possessed over her precious 0.38 Pilot G-2s.

It started with silent theft. Then escalated. Soon, Y/N started finding ransom notes tucked neatly into her notebooks: “If you ever want to see your gel pen again, meet me behind the vending machines. Come alone.” One time, Jinx even taped a note to her desk that read: “He misses you.” —with a single black G-2 dangling from a noose made of floss.

Jinx once slightly rearranged all of Y/N’s meticulously color-coded folders—blue tabs where the yellow ones should be, highlighters swapped just enough to sow chaos. It was surgical. Precise. Cruel.

Y/N noticed immediately. Of course she did. She didn’t sleep until every single tab was back in place. She even double-checked the ink flow in her pens. Twice. The next morning, there was a sticky note on her desk. “ur cute when you meltdown <3” In glitter gel pen. Y/N almost set her whole binder on fire.

All those graffiti hearts and messy scrawls splattered across Y/N’s locker? Lowkey love notes in disguise. Jinx would never admit it—not out loud—but half the time, they weren’t even insults. Just inside jokes, twisted quotes from books she knew Y/N liked, little phrases she’d overheard her say and pretended not to care about.

Y/N once rewrote an entire group lab report after Jinx, of course, decided to draw a massive dick in the margins. It wasn’t even subtle. Full-on masterpiece. Y/N, seething but in her quiet, meticulous way, submitted both versions to the professor with a passive-aggressive note: "Please disregard the vandalism. Some of us take this seriously."

Jinx once accidentally spilled acid on Y/N’s lab project. Y/N retaliated by submitting a formal complaint to the science department. Jinx then broke into the chem room at night and rearranged everything. The teacher blamed Y/N for it.

They’d glare across the room, roll their eyes whenever the other spoke, purposefully bump shoulders in the hallway. Everyone thought they were one more insult away from an all-out brawl. The sexual tension was vile.

Y/N accidentally tripped Jinx in the hallway once—after finding “Y/N is a giant nerd <3” scratched into the bathroom stall. Jinx retaliated by putting googly eyes on everything in Y/N’s locker. Even the apples. (apples ofc she is a teachers pet after all)

Y/N hated how aware she was of Jinx’s presence. How loud her laugh was. How her socks never matched. How her eyeliner smudged just right. She definitely didn’t sneak glances in class. That’d be ridiculous.

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early relationship

Y/N secretly keeps track of all the weird things Jinx does—like the times she stares at her reflection in the cafeteria window like she’s plotting world domination or when she argues with a teacher just to watch their face turn red. Y/N doesn’t mean to. She just... likes knowing what she’s up to.

Jinx starts sharing her earbuds casually, but Y/N flinches the first few times, not because she doesn’t want to—because she wants to too much. Sitting close, knees touching, music low, pretending it’s no big deal while both their hearts are screaming.

Now Jinx's doodles are hearts stabbed with arrows, tiny cartoons of Y/N blushing, or stick figures holding hands. Y/N acts annoyed, but she quietly starts collecting them in the back of her binder.

Jinx starts leaving her stuff behind. A hoodie here, a beanie there. At first, Y/N folds them up and gives them back. Then she keeps them. Then she starts wearing them. Jinx nearly passes out the first time she sees Y/N in her oversized jacket.

Y/N starts cleaning Jinx’s room every time she’s over. Jinx makes fun of her for it… while watching her with the most pathetically fond smile. She lets her do it. Pretends she hates it. Loves it.

Y/N threatens to go full academic weapon on anyone who calls Jinx crazy. Jinx brushes it off with a laugh but clutches that memory like it’s gold.

Jinx starts carrying gum 'cause Y/N doesn’t like the taste of smoke (She acts like it’s for herself, spoiler alert it's not)

Jinx one time hands over a USB drive labeled “music for nerds who pretend not to like me.” Y/N burns her a CD in return, painfully curated with care, and includes a handwritten tracklist. Jinx listens to it every night before bed.

Jinx teaches Y/N how to play one of her favorite video games Y/N is terrible at it (to start with). Jinx is so smug about it—until Y/N stays up all night practicing in secret and finally beats her. Jinx demands a rematch. Y/N kisses her senseless.

Jinx brings her weird little offerings. A bottlecap shaped like a heart. A sticker that says “Certified geek.” A leaf that looks like it has freckles. Y/N saves every single one in a shoebox under her bed and labels it: Jinx’s chaos treasure pile.

Y/N learns how to do Jinx’s eyeliner. Very carefully. Very gently. Jinx fidgets at first, but the intimacy of it makes her go quiet, soft. Y/N’s hands tremble just a little, but the lines come out sharp. Perfect. Jinx won’t let anyone else touch her face after that.

Y/N starts carrying hand sanitizer Jinx likes the smell of. It’s this ridiculous artificial cherry scent that Y/N would never pick for herself—but Jinx once said it “smells like stolen candy and bad decisions.” And now Y/N keeps it clipped to her bag. Jinx notices. She always notices.

Jinx starts humming Y/N’s favorite study songs when she’s anxious. Not full singing—just little hums, off-tune and rough around the edges. But Y/N hears it from across the room and it grounds her. Every time.

The first time they share an umbrella, Jinx lets Y/N take all the coverage. Her shoulder gets soaked, her hair plastered to her forehead, but she keeps her hand steady. Y/N notices halfway through and tries to shift it, but Jinx just shrugs. “I like storms.”

Jinx marks the ceiling above Y/N’s bed with a tiny dot of glowing paint (like those glow in the dark starts but kinds personalised) so even in the dark, even when they’re apart, there’s one little point of light for Y/N to look at and feel like someone’s with her.

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college years

After all of Y/N’s early classes—no matter how early—Jinx is always waiting outside the lecture hall. She’s propped against the wall, hoodie half-zipped, headphones in (shitty wired ones on their last leg), holding a cup of coffee.

Jinx draws on Y/N’s wrists when she’s anxious. Little stars, eyes, crooked hearts. She uses one of Y/N’s fine-tip pens, whispering dumb commentary as she sketches. “This one’s a battle scar. From surviving Intro to Macroeconomics.”

Jinx paints a constellation mural on the ceiling of their shared dorm room. She claims it’s random. (It’s not). It’s the night sky from the night at the party, the night Y/N took the joint from Jinx for the first time.

“It’s not that bad.” She doesn’t say anything. She’s just staring at the joint like it might bite her. But I see it. I see the hesitation, the way her fingers twitch like she wants to take it, just to see what it feels like. I blow out a puff of smoke, letting it hang between us. “You’re curious, aren’t you?” I almost dare her to say no. (Remember this :3)

They keep a shared folder on Google Drive labeled “Defcon Love” It has playlists, memes, research notes, and one single doc that just says “we’re gonna be okay.” Y/N added that during finals. Jinx never deleted it.

Jinx steals Y/N’s scarves. Constantly. Even when it’s not cold. Wears them like sashes or belts or headbands. Y/N starts pretending she doesn’t notice, just so she can lean in and gently tug them back.

Jinx collects old band tees, and Y/N secretly loves wearing them. Sometimes Y/N borrows one of Jinx’s oversized, faded band shirts, and Jinx will make a show of being “offended” that Y/N’s wearing it. In reality, she adores seeing Y/N in her clothes, the fact that Y/N doesn’t even care about the band but still wears it with pride.

“What do you think?” Y/N asks, trying to suppress the smile tugging at her lips. “What the hell are you doing wearing that?” Jinx says, pushing herself up on her elbows. “That’s my shirt. Not a fashion statement.” Y/N raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. “I like it. It’s comfy. Don’t you have like, five more of these anyway?” Jinx snorts, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, well, I’ve got a deep personal connection to every single one of them, okay? They’re not just... shirts.”

They have late-night karaoke sessions in their dorm room. Sometimes it’s just them and a cheap microphone, singing off-key to cheesy songs. Y/N laughs too hard at how badly they’re singing, but Jinx just stares at her like she’s the most beautiful thing in the room. “Sing louder,” Jinx demands, and Y/N always does.

They have a favorite spot on campus—a quiet corner in the library or a bench under a cherry blossom tree—and it’s theirs.

Jinx buys a ridiculously massive plush shark for their bed, and it’s there just to annoy Y/N (who secretly loves it and ends up snuggling with it when Jinx isn’t around).

They make sandwiches together in their dorm kitchen at night. It’s never anything fancy, just whatever’s left in the fridge, but Jinx has this way of making it feel special. She’ll always add a little extra something—an extra slice of cheese or a dash of hot sauce—and then look at Y/N, grinning like she just won the Nobel Prize in Sandwich Making.

Jinx demands chaotic movie nights, and Y/N is just along for the ride (begrudgingly, lovingly) Movie night is sacred.

Jinx will kick open their dorm door like she’s storming a castle, armed with snacks that should honestly be illegal together. “Tonight’s feature,” she announces, eyes wild, “is a documentary about competitive cheese rolling and a zombie shark rom-com. Double feature. Let’s rot our brains, baby.” Y/N doesn’t get a say. She never does. She sighs, mutters something about “cinematic integrity,” and curls up beside Jinx anyway. She’ll complain the entire time and still stay for the credits.

Late at night, they'll sit on the edge of the bed, with nothing but the glow of Y/N’s desk lamp illuminating the room. Jinx talks about her wild ideas for the future, while Y/N listens quietly, fingers tracing the edge of her coffee mug. Y/N’s heart aches in the best way. No matter where they’re going, she knows she’ll go with Jinx. (they're soulmates fr)

Y/N is all about her carefully planned self-care routines—bath bombs, herbal salts, a candle lit just so, maybe a book propped up on a towel nearby. It's her quiet, sacred time to unwind after a day of overstimulation and deadlines.

One night, Y/N's mid-soak, totally zoned out, and Jinx flings the door open (with absolutely no shame), tosses in a rubber duck she picked up at a gas station, and chirps, "You rang, milady?"—already stripping like she absolutely belongs in this scenario. (She does) At first, Y/N groans, rolls her eyes, muttering something about “boundaries,” but then Jinx sits on the edge of the tub, fingers combing through Y/N’s wet hair with surprising gentleness, her voice soft and teasing: “You smell like a lavender-scented nerd.”

Y/N scoffs under her breath, but her face is already flushed—not from the heat. “You’re insufferable,” she says, voice quieter than before. Jinx doesn’t reply. She just tilts her head, leans in that extra inch like she’s testing gravity. Like she’s not quite sure who’s gonna move first. And then—Y/N does. It’s slow, warm, barely more than a brush at first. But Jinx chases it with another, then another, her lips curved like she’s been waiting for this exact moment. (She has)

Y/N helps Jinx dye her hair—and it becomes their little ritual Jinx insists she can do it herself, like she always has. But Y/N is already pulling on gloves, laying out old towels and sectioning Jinx’s hair with careful fingers. There's blue dye smeared across her knuckles, streaking her wrists, and Jinx won't stop grinning at how serious Y/N looks about it. "You’re acting like it’s brain surgery," Jinx teases, legs swinging off the edge of the sink.

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domestic/married life

Y/N leaves notes on the fridge that say things like “Don’t forget your keys today <3” or “Remember to breathe.” Jinx leaves ones that say “stole your juice lol xoxo” or just a doodle of a raccoon in a trench coat.

Jinx talks in her sleep. Y/N answers. It started as a weird joke. Jinx would mumble nonsense in her sleep, and Y/N would respond like they were having a full-on conversation. It became a tradition. Now, even half-asleep, Y/N will murmur a dry "That’s not how gravity works, love" when Jinx mumbles about rocket boots and cat gods.

Jinx never sits on the couch like a normal person. It’s either upside down, sideways, hanging off the edge, or sprawled across Y/N like a cat. If Y/N’s reading, Jinx is curled around her like she’s part of the furniture.

Y/N cooks. Jinx taste-tests (and steals bites). Jinx is always hovering behind her, arms around her waist, chin on her shoulder, whispering “Is it ready yet?” even when it’s not even in the oven.

Their fights are short-lived and soft (like yk chap 12 where they barely could be apart for a day). They’re both stubborn in their own ways, but neither can stay mad for long. Y/N needs space when she’s upset—Jinx needs closeness. They meet halfway: Jinx gives Y/N a few minutes, then shows up with a quiet apology and a silly drawing or a coffee. Y/N always forgives her with a kiss to the forehead.

Rainy days are their favorite. Y/N lights candles and reads by the window. Jinx pulls her into a big blanket cocoon on the couch, playing old movies or doodling in a sketchbook. They stay like that for hours, legs tangled, the world feeling so small and safe.

Their periods sync up, and it’s a disaster. They don't realize at first—just find themselves bickering over everything, craving junk food at the same time, and getting irrationally emotional. Y/N tries to push through the cramps; Jinx dramatically sprawls across her. "You’re impossible." "Yeah, you love it. Now scoot closer."

Jinx impulsively adopts Beans first—a scrappy, chaotic little orange tabby she finds at an adoption event. She names him Beans immediately because "he’s shaped like a bean, look at him, toots. He’s literally a bean." Y/N tries to argue for a more "normal" name but secretly finds it endearing.

A few weeks later, Y/N adopts Nova—a sleek black cat with huge eyes and a quiet, observant demeanor. Nova is calm, elegant, and a little spooky, which Y/N adores.

Beans is absolute chaos, climbing on every surface, knocking over Jinx’s paint supplies, getting his paws in Y/N’s textbooks. Nova is stoic and patient, often seen silently judging Beans’ antics from a safe distance. (reminiscent of a certain pair :3)

There’s an entire shared photo album on their phones labeled “The Beans & Nova Saga.” It’s filled with chaotic pictures—Beans with socks on his head, Nova staring judgmentally at an unfinished art project, and both cats curled up together when they think no one’s watching. (the babies omg)

They have lazy Sunday mornings filled with pancakes and kissing. Jinx of course burns the first few pancakes. Y/N pretends to be mad, but kisses her flour-dusted nose anyway.

They fall asleep holding hands every night. Even when they’re exhausted. Even if Jinx is passed out halfway across the bed, her hand somehow still finds Y/N’s under the blankets.

Jinx starts a tiny garden for Y/N. She has no idea what she’s doing and most of the plants are crooked as hell, but she plants a whole section of wildflowers "because they reminded me of you. Kinda messy. Kinda perfect."

Y/N keeps a scrapbook of all their milestones. Shit like ticket stubs. Old keys. Restaurant napkins with doodles. She hides it under their bed, but Jinx finds it one night and cries quietly into Y/N’s shoulder.

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authors note: hiii, so i've never actually written headcanons before so i have no idea if these are shit or not but they were so fun to do (and yes there will be a part two for the nfsw ones) :3

and tysm to the lovely @dreamyraincloud for helping me conjure some ideas <3

Cherry flavoured

Y/N was never supposed to crack.

Straight-A student, rule-follower, the kind of girl teachers trust and classmates forget.

But when the pressure to stay perfect starts to rot her from the inside out, she finds herself striking a certain type of deal.

Chloe Price, exiled from the prim and proper Blackwell Academy, swore she was done with that place—and the people in it. But then…

Cherry lip gloss. Lace top. Trouble.Their paths were never supposed to cross again. But they always do.

C.W: Substance use/addiction, implied suicidality, sexual content

Playlist

Chapter 1