#it should never come in the form of a powder

[two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat]

Seriously? Kraft is nasty.

[meganegatari]

You should definitely write for Vi bc oml she’s so fine 😮‍💨

DO U EVEN KNOW THE WAY IM TWEAKIN OVER HER like omfg. my poor moots getting bombarded with fucking piles of edits upon edits of her and my thirsty comments...yeah...i gotchu, you don't needa ask me twice ♡ tbh feel like this is one of the better short smutty thingies i've written, lol. it was really fun.

nsfw drabble—dom!vi + spit kink. originally i was gonna make this three smaller blurbs, but decided to just smash em all into one longer drabble situation. cw: praise, bossy vi, finger sucking (r! receiving), oral (v! receiving), vi bush mention RAHHHH, yapping... yk how it is by now. + 1.1k wc.

you were gazing up at her with watery eyes, kneeling by vi's seated form, trying your hardest to ignore the deafening ache between your thighs.

vi is loving, and she knows how to treat you well. she always provides you with tons of care and happiness, however—she also possesses a dirty side to her.

a bandaged hand swipes at the bottom of your chin, her thumb prodding at your pursed lips. there was a smirk playing on her scarred lips, her powder-blue eyes twinkling with pure lust at the scenario playing out before her.

“open.” she says roughly, and who are you to deny her? you were willing to take anything she'd give you, so you obediently part your lips, allowing her to fully push her digit inside your hot mouth.

almost instinctively, your puffy lips wrap around her thumb and you begin to suck, your eyes rolling ever so slightly at the taste of her salted skin. she hums, “atta girl—keep going. just like that, until i say you can stop, alright?” you open your eyes and nod in approval, wishing to commit her expression to memory.

see, vi wasn't one of those mean, degrading doms with an icy exterior who get off on hurting you an excessive amount, and in moments like this where she's got you in a position of submission under her, her natural “switchiness” peeks through. you see it in the way her throat bobs as she swallows, her unsteady, shallow breathing coming out in rasps, and the distinct furrow in her flaming brows while she struggles to maintain eye contact. regardless, you both enjoy toying around with various dynamics, she makes it fun.

you get lost in a daydream while staring into her eyes, but are startled out of it when she strongly presses down on your wet tongue, and pushes her thumb further inward until you gag.

it surprises you, but you know she would never overdo things. tears well up in your eyes, their presence only widening her voracious grin.

then she soothes, her now-soft voice caressing your ears, “exactly, just like that. good job, baby. you're so perfect f'me—yeahhh.” she continues rolling her thumb around your wet muscle, every so often dragging the pad of her finger over the ridges of your teeth, then pushing experimentally up against the roof of your mouth.

saliva has been gathering all this time, and she hasn't given you a moment to swallow it, so it dribbles out of your mouth and down your chin, decorating your chest as it slides down your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps along its path.

her face gets impossibly redder as she observes the sight, still while playing with—rather, using—your mouth. her movements speed up a touch, and she triggers your gag reflex once more before abruptly stopping. she pulls her hand out of your mouth with a pop, and throws her head back as she tries to steady her breathing. “you're so fuckin’ hot, god—i can't.”

you smile up at her, reveling in her break of character and being pleased with yourself. she's panting, and examines her hand; it's shiny and dripping with your spit, she's mesmerized by the sparkle it emits in the low light. her periwinkle eyes gloss over and suddenly there's a flash of fabric flying by, and you realize she has undressed herself in one fluid motion, throwing everything on her bottom half across the room. she’s so desperate, you can’t help but sneer at her horny distress, even though technically you were the one being overpowered.

your eyes drop, meeting a wild tangle of vermillion and crimson, her muscular thighs separating east and west to make space for you.

she leans back and gently nudges your head towards her tender, drooling core, her chest heaving at the way you're just melting under her touch. turning to jelly, you let her guide you where she wants. needs.

vi groans quietly, her breath hitching, “c'mon angel, you know what to do.” and you very much did. with her assistance, you advance and bury your face in her center, tongue finding her scarlet pearl—twitching and ready for you to obliterate.

you flick, you suck, and you moan at the heavenly taste of her essence, revel in the noises she's producing above you. she pulls you further in, bucking her hips frantically to chase your skilled mouth. you push your tongue inside her quivering hole as far as it'll go, taking as much of her in your mouth as you can, and ignoring the lack of oxygen you're experiencing—you would be more than pleased if you were lucky enough to die this way.

she's watching you intently through half-lidded eyes, chewing on her rosy lips. when you meet her gaze from in between her legs, her face contorts and she releases a guttural whine, more slick leaking from her and filling your hard-at-work mouth.

her grip on your hair tightens and her abs tense, providing you with an image that's worthy of a climax just on its own. her head falls back, her lips parting to allow for pretty, high pitched and pathetic pleas to grace your ears. “ple—please baby, just like that. you're so fuckin' good, don't you dare stop—ah!”

without any warning she makes a vulgar mess of your face, the vice grip on your crown causing you to wince, but just as she requests, you don't dare move.

you tilt your head to get a better angle, practically making out with her swollen pussy. you drink up her cum, the near-sickly sweetness clouding your mind, coating your thoughts in a drunken haze.

the high is rippling through her at such an intensity her loud moans are replaced with pornographic whimpers, the sensations utterly ruining her. she squirms and arches, caging your head between her thighs until she gasps.

"hah—okay, okay, oh—fuck.” she stutters while she pushes you away, the tremor in her body evident. you sit back and examine your work, feeling proud of yourself, her fucked-out condition proving you did a good job.

she's sprawled on the bed like a starfish, still trying to slow her racing heart but manages to chuckle, basking in the aftershocks of a mind-melting session.

her words are slurred, yet satisfied. “did so good, that was so good…love your mouth s'much babe.”

you guffaw, and throw at her through chuckles, “i know, i am the best.” that sends her into a fit of giggles as well, and once she's calmed down she confirms.

“yeah, you really are.”

thanks for reading! comments, reblogs, and asks are appreciated more than you know ♡ if you'd like to be tagged in future works, fill out the form here! until next time ;)

@andersonfilms @ch6douin @aouiaa @sapphic-ovaries @astro-cat2 @paqerings @littlefallenangel111 @srooch @sinfulprayerss @lvlymicha @sunnsh1ne @pinkcwake @marsworlddd @caszzine @saturnsdrafts @mascdom @ashaynep @angelynn-nicole @wilddrown @aylabv02108 @lonelyfooryouonly @melsmunch @e11williamsgf @spncrrdlvr @flowrmoth

[tuiccim]

We're Gonna Burn (Part 3)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: 2.6K

Warnings: Smut, Sex Pollen, Non/DubCon (because sex pollen), enemies to lovers.

Summary: When an exposure to a strange powder makes you feel as if you're burning to death, your only relief is in the person you hate the most. Now, dealing with the aftermath makes you question everything.

We're Gonna Burn Masterlist

Knocking on his door a short time later, you felt the fear and panic rise from your stomach to take a stranglehold on your throat. Dipping into the tenacity that had made you into a badass, you straighten your spine and wait, staring ahead with purpose. You felt it wobble for just a second when the door opened but you breathed in deeply and met his gaze directly. Your insides quelled but your mask never fell.

“Hi,” Bucky says softly, almost timidly.

“May I come in?” Your voice sounds harsh to your own ears, but it was necessary to keep it from trembling.

“Yeah, of course,” He steps back to allow you entry and you notice that he is giving you a wide berth. Even once you had turned back to him as he closed the door, he moved to ensure you could get to it without issue. As if he wanted to ensure you didn’t feel trapped. “So, uh, I think I owe-”

“Thank you,” you blurt, cutting him off.

“Wha, uh, what?”

If your nerves weren’t shot you probably would have smiled at the confused expression on his face. “Thank you for how you wrote your report. I appreciate that you were… discreet.”

Bucky just nodded, looking at you askew.

“I was as well. Not that you needed to know that,” you cross your arms to help hold yourself together.

“I read yours,” he says.

You give a curt nod. “Who else have you told?” You feel almost mean asking the question when he looks back at you with such sad eyes but you had to know.

“The doctor, my therapist, and Alpine,” Bucky says.

“Who’s Alpine?” You narrow your eyes.

“My cat,” his lips quirked the tiniest bit.

For some reason, the humor of it puts you a little more at ease. “You have a cat?”

As if knowing she was the subject of conversation, a fluffy white cat with big blue eyes rounds the corner letting out a small meow. She rubs against Bucky’s leg and then decides to study you. You crouch down as she approaches but don’t reach for her. You let her come to you, keeping your hands in plain sight with your forearms resting on your thighs. She sniffs at you, rubs her furry head against your hand and then puts a paw on your thigh to stretch closer to your face. Your eyes flick up to Bucky to see his surprised expression but you return them to Alpine quickly. Giving her a slow blink to show you mean her no harm, she moves her head up to rub against your chin and, following her lead you bring your forehead down to give her a head boop. She meows happily, jumps on the couch and gives you an expectant look while making circles.

“She wants you to sit with her,” Bucky’s voice breaks you out of the trance this little interlude had put you in.

“Oh,” you move to sit beside the white cat and she immediately makes camp on your lap. You stroke her soft fur, a small smile curving your lips.

“Uh, can I?” Bucky gestures to the opposite end of the couch.

“It’s your couch,” you say nervously.

“Alpine doesn’t often take to people like that,” Bucky says as he sits.

“Really?”

“She’s usually pretty standoffish. Kind of like you,” Bucky shrugs.

Your brow furrows at the comment but you decide to let it go. The last thing you wanted right now was to turn the conversation contentious. You worked your lips trying to form your next question but he spoke quickly.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” he looks away.

“It’s fine.” You look down at the cat happily purring in your lap and then look up at him, “Are you… all healed up?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that but, yeah, I’m fine.”

“Good. And before you have to ask, yes, I’m healed. Physically,” you whisper the last word but can tell he heard it.

“I’m sorry for what happened. What I did, to you.”

“We did it to each other. It wasn’t your fault. Unless you knew it could happen. You didn’t know that was where they conducted those experiments, did you?” You felt wrong for asking but needed the reassurance.

“No! No, I would never have taken the mission if I did. I would have insisted they send a biohazard team. I may be a jerk but I wouldn’t wish that stuff on my worst enemy.”

“As your worst enemy, that’s good to know,” you try to lighten the moment.

“You aren’t my worst enemy. You’re my teammate,” Bucky says, incredulously.

“Coulda fooled me. You’ve hated me since I got here,” you scoff.

“Because I knew you were sent to observe me. I knew as soon as you got here that you were meant to watch over me. I’m still a threat as far as they’re concerned.”

“You arrogant son of a bitch!” You’re seething with the realization of the source of his disdain, “I was sent here to round out the team. My placement had nothing to do with keeping tabs on you. No wonder you question my every move. I can’t possibly be good at this job since the only reason I exist on this planet is to check up on Bucky fucking Barnes. Well, fuck that, Barnes, I’m damn good at my job and have skills that the team needs. Not that you ever cared to notice the value of my input!”

Bucky seemed taken aback by your reaction but still narrowed his eyes as he asked, “Why else would they send someone with a background in psychology?”

“I don’t know. What possible advantage could psychological insight have when dealing in espionage or motive?” You stare him down, your jaw steely and eyes filled with umbrage.

And he floundered as you did. His mouth worked several times as if trying to form some rebuttal but in the end his eyes met yours with clear defeat in them. “Exactly,” you sign his epitaph. “Look, you can believe whatever you want but that-”

“I believe you,” Bucky says.

You look him over, trying to determine his sincerity. It was then that your background in psychology kicks in somewhere in the back of your brain. He has a huge chip on his shoulder. A constant reminder that most people will always see him as a murderous ghost assassin rather than the tortured war hero that he is. He probably never trusts anyone’s motives until they’ve proven themselves. You were no different and knowing how the system works you can’t blame him for fearing that any new face was just meant to keep tabs on him. After all, even knowing he is free from the grasp of Hydra, the Dora Milaje still keeps tabs on him. When you can’t trust your own mind, how can you trust new faces that appear?

“Do you think that we can move past all of this?” You ask. The question seems to catch him off guard and so you elaborate to give him time, repeating what you had told Dr. Montesi. “Look, I want to be part of a team that has mutual respect for each other. If you can never give me that respect, if you can’t move past your prejudices or what happened in that cabin to see me as an asset, I don't want to work with you. I'm not asking to be friends, just co-workers, teammates, whatever you want to call it. Preferably ones who can talk without all the biting commentary.”

“Are you afraid of me?” Bucky asks quietly.

You’re taken aback by the question but answer quickly, “No.”

“Were you when we were in that cabin?” He asks, not quite meeting your eyes.

“No,” you search your brain as to why he would ask that question. “I wasn’t afraid of you. I was scared about what was happening, the lack of control, the fear of burning to death. I wasn’t scared of you physically. Mentally, I was terrified that you would tell everyone. That you would lord it over me that you had… gotten me in bed. That you would make me a laughingstock. It’s no small feat to make it to where I am as a woman but it can all be taken away just as quickly when people lose the respect you’ve earned. When they start seeing you as an object rather than a person.”

“You really thought I would do that?” Bucky asks.

“You hate me. You have since I got here and what better way to take me down a few pegs and prove that I don’t belong here? What a way to bring me to heel and force me out, right? Yes, I thought it was a possibility.” You admit everything and watch the hurt and emotions that cross his face.

“And now? Do you still think I would do that?”

“Honestly, no. For one thing, you haven’t done it. And when I read your report,it was as succinct as possible while also shining me in a good light, I realized you maybe weren’t that kind of person. Then, I-” you cut yourself off, not wanting to reveal too much.

“You?” Bucky pushes.

“I read your other reports for missions we had been on together. You keep it short but you also always mention others' contributions to the outcome, mine included. Reading them, I thought that, maybe, at some point you had started to see me as an asset. That somewhere in all of the times we worked together you had built some grudging respect for me. And if that was the case, somewhere under the asshat facade you wear, there’s a good man I haven't gotten to meet yet.”

“When you first got here, you were too friendly and I put up all my defenses. You… scared me,” Bucky admits quietly.

You nod, grasping exactly what he means. To him, you had seemed like someone with an agenda, trying to get under his skin. You decide to match his vulnerability, “I was interested in your story. I wanted to get to know the Howling Commando who was the first to fall and the last still fighting. You’re kind of a living legend.”

“So, you’re a fangirl?” He smirks.

“Uh, how very dare you. No,” you can’t help the little scoffing laugh that escapes. “More like a history buff.”

“Okay, I’ll go with that.”

You smile at each other, a feeling of comradery flowing between the two of you for the first time. But, still, you need reassurance and the question had to be asked, “So, does this mean you think that we can move past all of this and keep working together?”

“I’d like to. You?” He looks at you hopefully.

“Yeah,” you smile.

“Good. That’s good,” he nods.

“Yeah. Okay, I should get going,” you look down to the cat napping in your lap. “Sorry, Alpine. Time for me to get out of here.” The cat looks up at you as you gently place her on the floor. She stretches and then looks at Bucky, letting out a loud meow before walking away.

“She’s letting me know it’s time for food,” Bucky chuckles.

“I see who’s the boss around here,” you laugh.

“Oh, 100% her,” Bucky smiles as he stands.

You were almost to the door when Bucky said your name. You turn back to him in surprise and listen as he says, “Thanks for this. For talking.”

“Yeah, of course,” you turn away again but your mind is screaming because he had used your first name. Part of you wanted to let it go, to not ask about the one thing that bothered you most about what happened. To let sleeping dogs lie and keep the new peace that had been formed between you. But you know yourself, it will haunt you and working up the courage to bring it up later would likely never happen. It felt like once the door closed behind you when you left, you may never be able to get back to the one question that you needed answered. You whirl back around, “Wait. There’s one more thing. A question I have to ask.”

“Anything. What is it?” Bucky asks nervously.

If his stomach felt anything like yours, it’s in knots with fear that all the progress that had just been made would crumble to dust once the question was asked. You watch yourself twist your hands as the words tumbled out, “When we were…at the cabin, there was this one thing that, the, uh, you, at one point you, there was, you,” frustrated with yourself you blurt out the question, “Why did you make me say your name?”

You meet his eyes, yours filled with curiosity and just a touch of accusation and his tinged with fear and… sadness? You couldn’t quite read him.

“Ah, that. I, um, everything was so beyond our control. It felt like-, we were forced into this situation. And we didn’t have a choice in what we were doing but it was…”

“A small semblance of control?” You provide.

“Yeah, but more than that. I didn’t have any control over myself as the Winter Soldier. I was always the asset or Soldat. When we were in that cabin, Hydra had control of me again and the only way I could ground myself, to remind myself I wasn’t Soldat again was that,” Bucky looks into your eyes, “I was with you. I wasn’t alone and I wanted, I- I needed to hear my name. To be reminded that I was still Bucky even if Hydra did have control of my body, my mind was still my own. That Bucky meant something to me and it wasn’t lost again. So, I made you say it. I’m sorry. I know it was me taking away more control from you but I,” he stopped, looking away. His eyes were rimmed red and his demeanor screamed the feeling of shame overtaking him.

“It’s okay.” It took a few seconds for you to form the response you felt would give you both the closure you needed. You had rarely touched another person since the incident. Touch was overstimulating and occasionally triggering to you, but leaving that behind, you reach out and cup his cheek, “I understand. It wasn’t about me and that’s what I needed to know. It’s okay… Bucky.”

He covered your hand with his own, closing his eyes and leaning into your touch, “Can you forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive-”

He interrupted, seemingly unsatisfied with your denial, “I tried so hard not to take any more advantage of the situation than was necessary. I didn’t try to kiss you or force you to look at me. I just needed-”

“Bucky,” you waited until he looked at you, “I forgive you.” You nod and whisper again, “I forgive you.”

He stares at you in awe for a few moments. He reached to caress your cheek in the same way you held his. You mouth, “It’s okay” again to reassure him. You stay frozen like that for a few moments just staring into each other. You feel something shift inside of you and track when his glance slips to your lips and then back up again. Instinctively, you do the same but suddenly fear grips you. Panic begins to roll up from your stomach and your skin suddenly feels like it's being scorched by the heat of his hand on your face.

“MROW!” The loud yowl from Alpine pulls you both back to reality and you separate quickly. The cat was obviously impatient about her delayed dinner.

You let out a breathy laugh, “I’ll let you get to her dinner.”

“Uh, yeah. Dinner, right,” Bucky says. He watches your quick retreat but before you close the door he calls out, “Have a good night… doll.”

“You, too… Bucky.”

Part 4

Updates and taglist: Due to the unreliable nature of tags, I no longer keep a taglist. Updates for series will be made on Sundays Central Time Zone. Please follow my sideblog @tuiccimfanfiction and turn on notifications for updates. All series and new stories will be reblogged to it. You will only receive notifications when a new part or story is out! Nothing else will be blogged to the page. I can’t thank you enough for your support!

[thenationofzaun]

I always hated the idea of Vander coming back as Warwick, as I felt it would cheapen the impact of his death in S1E3. I'm not a fan of characters coming back from the dead in general. But when I saw Warwick's video game voice lines, I was intrigued. I could definitely see how the show could find a way to make his return impactful and play a very interesting role in Vi's arc. Though I was still skeptical, the game dialogue gave me hope that the show could explore Vander's past and Vi's character in a cool way. Only for Season 2 to throw all that potential away.

"I became the monster I always was. Zaun gave me claws long before you did."

The monster he always was. Because as much as Season 2 contradicts itself and the show writers behind the scenes paint Vander as always having been a pacifist, it wasn't what was established in Season 1. This is told to us by the visuals (Vander attacking Silco in his youth and then killing enforcers on the bridge), Marcus ("You weren't always the peace keeper, were you?"), and Vander himself ("I'm not that man anymore"). All confirmation that Vander had a dark past, one where he was such a violent aggressive man to earn the nickname Hound of the Underground. After his devastating defeat and losses on the Day of Ash, he stamped that violent rage down and made peace with topside. Because he thought it was the only way to protect innocents and keep kids from being orphaned by Piltover. The present Vander we meet in Season 1 has already undergone massive character growth. Then there are his lines to Vi and Jinx.

With Jinx there's faint recognition and despair. And his lines to Vi are so juicy. His disappointment in her! The fact that he made a pact with the enforcers to minimize their crackdowns on Zaun and prevent bloodshed, only for Vi to join those same enforcers and aid in their crackdowns! Causing collateral damage to innocents, orphaning kids, and even getting kids themselves killed. What would make it even more juicy is if Vi's decision to join them was motivated by desire to avenge Vander! And if she excused her class treason by comparing it to Vander's pact with Grayson. Imagine thinking you're honouring your father's memory, then his literal reanimated corpse shows up and says "no girl wtf are you doing". Not to mention his last words to her was "take care of Powder". And now she'd be all uniformed up to arrest her sister for topsiders.

Vi could have come face to face with her demons in the form of Warwick. She could have recognized that she was becoming the rage-filled violent monster Vander used to be, and what he was eventually turned into after his death. Something he never would have wanted for her. She could have realized how much she lost herself. Warwick should have been her kill. Setting Vander free and at the same time killing her own demons and rage. Instead they don't use any of this rich material from the game. Vi gets no major character arc and no introspection. She doesn't even get to piece together Vander and Silco's past, because Season 2 makes the retcon that she apparently always knew Silco. So much potential wasted, and now I feel vindicated in my original assessment that Vander should have stayed dead. If they weren't going to do anything interesting with Warwick, then that furry could have just been omitted the way Camille and a bunch of other Piltover/Zaun champions were.

[odileeclipse]

https://www.tumblr.com/odileeclipse/775702721549516800/httpswwwtumblrcomodileeclipse775661126176391?source=share

hii idk if you'll take this rq but what if there was another ending where we meet shadow milk cookie and we start falling for him and our feelings for pure vanilla vanished and shadow milk cookie genuinely likes us back so they basically got together and what do you think will pure vanilla's reaction lol

do you think pv will try fight for reader's love once again and if so I feel like reader just now sees him as a friend and nothing more since now they found someone who actually sees them as a person which is smc

this is a random rq but I hope you'll be able to do this ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

The One Who Sees You

You should have known better. From the very beginning, you had stood on the sidelines, watching Pure Vanilla Cookie with the same quiet hope that perhaps, if you waited long enough, he’d turn toward you. But he never did. He only ever had eyes for White Lily. Even when you pleaded with him, selfishly asking him not to skip class, he never truly heard you. His heart was already elsewhere, tied to someone who had never once waited in the shadows. And now, standing in the grand halls of the kingdom he built, you watched as that hope shattered completely. "White Lily Cookie, I selfishly ask you to be mine, for now and for as long as forever lasts." You knew it was coming. You had felt it coming for years. And yet, the words still hit like a blade. You smiled through the pain, congratulated them, and clapped along with the rest of the crowd. Even as your heart crumbled, you stood tall. Because that was who you were, patient, kind, always supporting. Always waiting. But not anymore. So, when no one was looking, you slipped away.

The night after the ceremony, you wandered through the moonlit streets alone. The kingdom was alive with celebration, but you had no place in it. That was when you saw him. A figure perched atop a ledge, watching the festivities below with a smirk on his lips. Powder blue dough, dual-colored eyes that gleamed like gemstones, and a harlequin’s shadow twisting around his form. "Now, now, what’s this? A lost little star wandering all alone?"

Shadow Milk Cookie. You had heard whispers of him. A trickster, a deceiver, a performer who turned reality into a spectacle. He was trouble, a being of chaos and lies. But at that moment, you didn’t care. "What do you want?" you asked tiredly. He tilted his head, leaping down gracefully to land beside you. "You tell me. You’re the one with sorrow dripping from your eyes. Poor thing," he cooed mockingly. "To be so devoted, only to be cast aside. How tragic." You bristled at his words. "I wasn’t cast aside. I was never there to begin with." He chuckled, a low and knowing sound. "And yet, you waited. Hoping. Ah, how familiar this tale is." He leaned closer, his unreadable eyes locking onto yours. "I wonder… if you were given the chance, would you still wait?" You hesitated. Because despite everything, a part of you still wanted to say yes.

Shadow Milk Cookie grinned, as if he had already known your answer. "Well, I do love a good tragedy… but even I have my limits." He tapped his staff against the ground, shadows curling at his feet. "How about a change of script, little star? Let’s play a different game." You stared at him. "What kind of game?" His smile widened, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. "One where you’re not just a spectator." At that moment, you didn’t realize what he meant. You didn’t know that this was the beginning of something new. That while he saw you as a momentary distraction, something to toy with, the game would soon become something much more. You didn’t realize that, for the first time, someone truly saw you. At first, Shadow Milk Cookie’s presence was nothing more than a curiosity. He would find you at odd hours, teasing you with his riddles and illusions, playing with your emotions like a puppeteer. "You’re far too patient for your own good, little star. Why not take what you want instead of waiting for it?" "Because I don’t believe love is something to be stolen." "How dull. But I suppose that’s what makes you you." For a while, you thought he only kept you around out of amusement. And you weren’t wrong. He enjoyed watching you waver, testing the limits of your devotion. But then, something changed. One night, when you spoke of your past of the kingdom you built, of the years you spent waiting his usual smirk faltered. "You built your walls high," he mused. "To protect myself," you admitted. "And yet, I slipped through the cracks." You laughed softly. "I suppose you did." It wasn’t immediate, but little by little, the way he looked at you shifted. The teasing softened. The smirks were accompanied by something else, something real. And before you knew it, he was no longer playing a game.

Pure Vanilla Cookie was the one to find you. It had been a long time since you last spoke, and when your paths finally crossed again, his eyes softened with something you couldn’t quite place. "(Y/N) Cookie..."  His voice was laced with something unreadable. Hesitation? Regret? He took a hesitant step forward, his expression unreadable.. Shadow Milk Cookie stood beside you, one arm lazily draped over your shoulders. Unlike before, when you had stood alone in the background, now you were seen. A presence, not a shadow. You smiled, but it was different now. There was no waiting in your eyes, no lingering hope. "I heard news that you were coming to my Kingdom, I hope you had safe travels getting here" you said politely. His gaze flickered to Shadow Milk Cookie, whose smirk only grew. "Missed your chance, Virtuous One," he drawled mockingly. "This one’s with me now."

Pure Vanilla frowned. "Are you truly happy?" Shadow Milk Cookie stiffened slightly, but you didn’t hesitate. "I am."  You realized how easy it was to say those words, maybe once months ago you would have faltered. Pure Vanilla’s expression almost gave you second thoughts, his usual serenity breaking ever so slightly. Perhaps, deep down, he had always assumed you would still be there, waiting. That your patience was endless. But time had passed. You had changed. And now, you were standing beside someone who saw you for who you truly were. Pure Vanilla opened his mouth, as if wanting to say more, but no words came out. He knew, just as you did, that it was too late. With a soft smile, you excused yourself, turning away, stepping forward with Shadow Milk Cookie at your side. This time it wasn't you, watching from the sidelines. You were finally walking forward. And you weren’t looking back.

A/N Hopefully this fulfills your request <3

[tallulah477]

Feral

Survive The Night Day 2: Predator/Prey

Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Human!Reader

Warnings: AgedUp!Neteyam, Dark!Neteyam, ***NON-CON***, Dub-Con, Oral (female receiving), P in V, Sex Pollen, Size Difference, Chasing, Primal Play (Predator/Prey Kink), Creampie, Hair Pulling, Knife Play, Restraining Holds (i.e pinning/holding reader down), Fear Kink (?), Alien Genitalia (not really the focus, but its there), Knotting, Belly Bulge

Word Count: 7.3K

A/N: Based off a dream I had where Neteyam chased me through my house and I was running for my fucking life. Why didn't I let him catch me, you ask? Cause dream Talie is stupid.

Summary: You never understood why the Na'vi don't use this particular plant in their healing practices. It's a miracle plant for the humans - cutting healing times nearly in half when used as a topical paste. You would think it would have some similar benefits to the Na'vi. You would be wrong.

**PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS - DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ**

Translations:

Tawtute - Human

Kehe rikx - Don't move

Rutxe ftang - Please stop

Kehe - No

Even considering he’s a nine foot tall blue alien, Neteyam Sully still looks extremely out of place standing on the clean, white tiled floor of the lab. 

His siblings don’t look so out of place when they visit - comfortable and familiar enough within the confines of the lab to make themselves at home among the multitude of beakers, whirling machines, and thick observation glass that make up your day-to-day workplace. Their large bodies twisting and contorting with ease when necessary to accommodate for the smaller space. 

Neteyam isn’t so lucky. He doesn’t like the human facilities, opting to follow in his mother’s footsteps and stay as far away from the skypeople as he can. He’s only here because he was ordered to be, sent by his father to fix his broken throat comm before they head out with the hunting party on a three day hunting trip.

He looks uncomfortable as he stands behind you, back stiff and arms crossed across his broad chest as he watches you tinker with the comm. Repairing tech has never been your strong suit, so it’s taking you a bit longer to figure out than it probably should have, but since you're currently the only person left in this half of the base, the responsibility has unintentionally fallen to you. 

You should be out there too. The thought forms bitterly in your head as you poke at the small opened compartment of the comm with your tweezers. Your favorite part of research is going out into the world and finding the specimens. The lab is great, a fine place for breaking ground and learning new things, gathering knowledge and data about a flora and fauna in a way that no other humans had ever had the opportunity to do before. Pandora is your home, where you grew up and lived your whole life - and yet, it’s still a mystery, and you learn something new and beautiful about it everyday. 

But the real fun is outside the lab. It’s when you're out there, in the thick of it, stepping over breaching roots and feeling the moss of the ground between your toes when you take off your shoes during a rest break. It’s feeling the gentle breeze of air along your skin and hearing the trees rustle in the canopy above you as a result, and pretending that - just for a minute - you can feel the breeze of alien air brush against your face instead of your mask.

Usually one of the older scientists, Alice, offers to stay behind at the lab to run tests and be on call for the Omatikaya should human tech ever be needed. But she’s the most knowledgeable when it comes to locating the elusive and seasonally grown plant that’s come to be known as the Rust Plant. 

So, that leaves you here, on your ass and pouting while everyone else gets to go off and have their fun. 

As far as you know, the plant doesn’t have any special properties or spiritual significance to the Na’vi. But when the red dust-like powder is collected from the center and manipulated into a liquid, the result is a miracle paste that significantly reduces healing time with human injuries. You asked about it once - why the Na’vi don’t try to make the paste for themselves to see if it will work on them - but the only answer you got back was that it had some ‘unintended consequences’ when used by the clan, so they stay away from the plant altogether. 

You don’t think about that when Neteyam walks in. 

The plant mixture, once rust red, is now a beautiful glowing purple inside the beaker - a reaction from the solution added to the powder to form the liquid base. It’s been on the hot plate for a while now, but it’s only just starting to heat up enough to provide small spirals of smoke inside the clear glass. 

You’re glancing at the clock when you hear Neteyam sniff slightly behind you. You don’t turn around, ignoring the little puffs of air that somehow sound like bullet shots in the silence, but a part of you is instantly insecure. What is he smelling? It can't be the mixture in the beaker. Despite the smoke, it doesn’t give off any kind of smell. Subtly, you press your chin to your chest, trying to see if you can smell yourself to find out if maybe it’s you giving off some kind of stench that his overly sensitive nose is picking up on, but you don’t smell anything off about you either. 

The purple liquid is still thin inside the container, needing several more minutes of constant heat in order to bubble and thicken slightly before it can be considered a usable product, but you pause your tinkering on the comm to note the time for the smoke in a small notebook. 

Neteyam lets out a loud sigh when you drop the tweezers to grab a pencil, the annoyed huff nearly ear piercing in the quiet of the lab. This time you can’t help but glance towards the harsh noise, a slight tilt of your head towards the large Na’vi and your eyes meet amber for just a second before they drop again to the paper as you scribble. 

A part of you wants to be snobby, ask a prissy ‘can I help you?’ just because you feel like he’s being so unnecessarily rude when you're just trying to help, but you keep your mouth shut. 

He doesn’t. 

“Are you nearly done?” He grunts, accented tone pitched with agitation as his feet shuffle on the tile. 

“Yes, just a few more minutes,” You say, picking the tweezers back up. “Be patient.”

You think you’ve almost got the comm fixed, just a minor replacement to the tiny inside panel, and you're thankful that’s all it is. It shouldn’t take too long. You’ve nearly got the replacement piece in place now, so all you should have to do is solder it in and it should be fine. Which is good because the sooner you can get this fixed, the sooner you can get the huffy, oversized, unfortunately very handsome despite being an incredible dick of a Na’vi out of the lab so you don’t have to feel him breathing down your neck anymore. 

It only takes another couple minutes for the smoke to consume the rest of the empty space in the beaker, thick white wisps swirling inside of the glass and spiraling out of the top. You drop the tweezers again, cutting the power off to the hot plate and grab the pencil again to log the time. 

Neteyam sniffs again, this time audibly louder and longer, before it sounds like his breath gets caught in his lungs. 

Immediately, your head spins around to stare at him wide eyed, surprise and concern flooding your chest when you notice he’s backed up a few steps. He’s staring at the bubbling beaker, yellow eyes set with suspicion and what almost looks like distress. 

“Are you o–”

“What is that?” He interrupts, voice gruff as his three fingered hand points to the beaker. 

“It’s… the mixture for our healing paste,” You reply, confused. 

“No! What is it?”

“The Rust Plant? The one that grows on the sides of river b–”

You’re cut off again by a sharp hiss, and you have just a second to register Neteyam’s dagger-like teeth as he stalks forward, spitting out a frustrated “You stupid–” before he’s jerking back, hand immediately covering his nose as if to stop himself from breathing.

He looks wild, eyes frantic as he stares at the beaker, and every muscle in his body looks tense, stung up tight like a bow ready to shoot. You’re a scientist, you’re meant to be observant, so you don’t know why you didn’t see it before. But it’s clear as anything now. The smoke doesn’t have any kind of smell to you, but to him - with the way he’s backing away and covering his nose to keep from breathing it in - it must be horrible. 

His tail is trashing behind him, so upset that you think you can almost hear a swish from it cutting through the air like a whip. 

“I need to leave,” He says suddenly. Instinctively, you back up into the desk at the sight of the large and angry Na’vi coming at you again, but he just grabs the still broken comm and turns around to storm out. 

He’s big though, too much for the small space of the lab, and his frantic tail is still thrashing as he turns. The thin appendage accidentally snaps against the side of the still smoking beaker, sending it flying off the desk and onto the ground. 

The glass shatters against the tile, glowing purple spreading across the white floor in a large puddle as the smoke spirals up into the air. Neteyam’s hand instinctively drops from his nose to grip onto his tail, holding the end of it close to him as if to keep it from swinging and smacking into anything else. But you watch, shocked and frozen in your spot as he takes one shuddering breath, and then another, tense back muscles shifting under his cobalt skin with each inhale and exhale of air. 

“Neteyam?” You ask, timidly. Dread shoots through your chest and you have the feeling that something very serious just happened, but you don’t even know what. 

He’s just standing there now, back towards you, but he’s not moving towards the door anymore. It’s like something is keeping him from moving, some unseen force that exploded out of the glass container when it burst and wrapped its tendrils around him before he could take another step. 

Whatever he was smelling from the beaker wasn’t good for him, and now it's in the air, invisible signatures swirling through the small space of the lab, and it's affecting him - the ‘unintended consequences’ of the Rust Plant on the Na’vi.

Your every instinct is telling you to stay away from him, that he’s dangerous. But he’s one of the Omatikaya, and regardless of how he views humans, you know he would never hurt you and disobey his father like that. 

“Hey,” You say, gently. You force yourself away from the desk, slowly moving around him to try to not startle him as you attempt to make your way to the airlock door. “Just relax, okay? Let’s try to air this pl–”

His deep growl has you frozen again, cold ice shoots through your veins at the predatory sound. It’s not a normal growl - not a low, quick sound made in anger or frustration. It sounds dark, a deep dangerous rumbling that came from his chest. A warning. 

You watch in horror as he slowly tilts his head towards you, the pointed tips of his sharp teeth visible under the snarled curl of his lips, glittering in the bright fluorescent lights of the lab. Your brain screams at you to run - danger, danger, danger, it shouts, but you can’t move. The realization hits hard: he’s not Neteyam anymore. The Na’vi in front of you is not the same human-indifferent, scoffing, fearless warrior son of Toruk Makto.

He’s an animal. A predator. 

Feral. 

His golden eyes are now just a thin band of dark honey encircling two endless black holes. And in their reflection you see yourself - tiny and weak. Scared.

Prey.

His body shifts slightly, just the most minuscule movements as he angles himself towards you that you probably wouldn’t have noticed had your survival instincts not been ringing alarm bells in your brain. Without thinking, you grab the hot plate, gripping it tightly at its base and holding it in front of you as your only form of weapon.

“Neteyam Sully!” You shout, and you can’t even believe how out of your mind you are to try to use his full name like an upset mother. “I don’t know what’s going on, but you stop it right now!”

There’s not even a second after the words leave your mouth, not a beat or breath or anything before he’s coming at you. 

Your body registers his sudden movement before your brain does, the roaring snarl bouncing off the walls of the lab as he lunges at you. The hot plate is out of your hands in an instant, the hard base of the plate smacking into his face with a loud cuh-thunk. His snarl is interrupted with a grunt from the hit, body jerking back a step from the impact, and you don’t wait around to see the way his eyes zero in on your retreating form again in rage. 

You can’t think - your body is moving without your brain telling it what to do. Pure panic mixed with raw survival instincts is what drives you through the door behind you, nearly smacking into the wall as you barrel down the main hallway. You hear Neteyam’s footsteps close behind, bare feet smacking against the tile. 

It’s a sound you never thought you would find terrifying. You think of little Mae, the daughter of the staff nurse and one of the science guys, and how the sound of her tiny footsteps stomping on these same tiles floors always brought a smile to your face. You could always hear her coming before you saw her, just a few seconds before she rounded the corner with unsteady steps ready to cause havoc as she tries to run from her exhausted and overstimulated mother. 

These ones are louder though. Heavier, but somehow more quiet as they rush at you from across the unobstructed hall. Your body doesn’t wait for your mind to catch up, and that’s probably a good thing considering you have no idea how the fuck you knew to take the split second turn to your right the exact moment Neteyam tried to pounce. 

You hear his snarl of anger as he rights himself, loud and echoing through the hallway. You’ve managed to best him for a second, but he’s still on your ass - gaining ground on you with his long Na’vi legs despite the cramped human-sized halls. 

Your heart is racing in your chest, pounding with fear, and the adrenaline coursing through your veins is the only thing keeping you going. You can’t breathe - shallow, panicked, quick puffs of air rip from you as you run, your high pitched gasps sounding against the hall walls as a foil to Neteyam’s predatory growls. 

“HELP!” You scream, voice cracking with how loud you're trying to scream. The desperation and pure terror are evident in your voice and you know if someone were around they would hear you for sure. Someone has to be around. They have to be. “SOMEONE HELP ME PLEASE!”

No one responds. No one steps in to intervene. No one even opens their door to try to take a little bit of a peek. No one to run to for help even though it feels like you're about to get mauled to death by a Thanator. 

You’re truly alone. And that thought makes you somehow even more desperate. 

Most people have a tendency to close the doors of their bedrooms, trying to keep as much privacy as they can in the small base. Norm has no such desires, often too excited or too focused on getting to his studies that he outright forgets to close his door. 

It’s a god send now that you’re sprinting through the residency part of the outpost. Your room is one of the last down the hall. You won’t make it. Not with the way you’re shaking right now, body feeling like it's somehow both freezing over with ice and lighting on fire as the fear and adrenaline fight for dominance for your immediate attention. Neteyam’s right behind you, long stride more than twice the size of yours cutting any distance you gained through your miracle of a move back down to barely anything at all. 

He’s going to catch you. 

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK.

Throwing yourself at a random door is dangerous. Just the extra second it takes to turn the knob and push the door open could almost certainly be the difference between life and death if you even still have a chance at life at all. And even then you run the risk of it being locked. Your eye catches on Norm’s door - open and shining like a beacon of hope amongst the fluorescently lit hallway. 

You don’t have another choice. 

You turn. 

As soon as you make it through the threshold, you slam the door behind you as fast as you can. 

You don’t know what you expected, naively hoping that the door would somehow succeed in protecting you and keeping Neteyam out. It’s not even locked. 

You scream as the door explodes under Neteyam’s weight, the wood splintering as it bursts apart, smaller bits of fragmented wood spraying towards you as the feral Na’vi shoulders his way in. The bathroom to your left is the only option, and you lunge for it just as Neteyam lunges for you. The tears pouring down your cheeks burn your eyes and blur your vision, your loud hyperventilating cries make your throat raw. Another door just barely slammed in his face and your back presses against the opposite door, your panicked hand trying to jiggle the knob but your brain not reminding you how to twist it. This other door hasn’t been used in years - the bathroom that once connected these two rooms together is just used by Norm now since Mary had her baby and her and her husband moved into a larger room to accommodate the crib. It’s locked, and your fingers are struggling to twist the mechanism up to unlock it when Neteyam breaks through. 

Even through your blurred vision, you see it clearly. His arm reaches through the hole his shoulder has made, and the bathroom is too small, too fucking small because that arm looks like its reaching across the entire length of it, fingers splayed out like if he can just get one of the tips to brush you, he’ll snatch you up. 

“HELP!” You scream again. Fuck fuck fuck. You’re going to fucking die. “HELP ME!”

You watch the door in horror as Neteyam pulls his arm back, head dropping to glare at you through the opening, and your veins fill with ice. 

He looks murderous - pupils blown so wide you can’t see the golden ring wrapped around them at all. You want to drop to the ground under that stare, beg for mercy even though the look in his eyes makes it clear there won’t be any. 

“N-Neteyam,” You stutter. Your heart is pounding so fast, blood sounding like it’s rushing in your ears so fast you don’t know how you haven’t had a heart attack yet. “P-please s-stop. P-please.”

His eyes stay locked on yours through the hole in the door, dark and glaring but for some reason he’s paused his attacks. A part of you wonders if your begging is making it through to the non-animalistic part of his brain. Whatever the smoke from the mixture of the Rust Plant did to him, it has to be only temporary. He’s still Neteyam. Neteyam is still in there somewhere. 

“Please,” You try again, voice barely above a whisper. “You’re scaring me.”

He leans forward, one hand curling around the broken wood from the open hole in the door. When he speaks, you don’t know if you’re relieved to hear that he can despite the overwhelming feral actions, or if you’re horrified at how his voice comes out. 

He doesn’t sound like himself at all. His words are clipped, short words made sentences that you don’t understand as both the gravely and growled way he says them as well as overall meaning. 

“Tawtute,” He growls. “Mine.”

“Wha— I-I don’t understand,”

You scream when he hisses at you, long canines and sharp teeth on display through the damaged opening and you have a front row seat to the show as your back presses harder against the door behind you. The hand wrapped around the edge of the hole pulls back suddenly, taking with it a huge chunk of the center and the loud crack and snap of wood snaps your body back into gear. You twist the small lock on the door behind you, unlocking it and wrenching it open when Neteyam throws his body against the opposite door again. You’re out the door and into the next room, slamming the door shut behind you just as you hear the telltale crash of the wild Na’vi breaking through the other barrier. Without thinking, you round the side of the bookshelf that stands on the side of the doorframe. You push with all your might, tipping the bookshelf on its side so that it falls diagonally across the door. A dresser sits just on the opposite side of the door, the bookshelf catching on the edge of the dresser so that it blocks a good portion of the bathroom door. 

Any other time you’d be heartbroken to see the books that fall off the bookshelf in your mishandling scatter along the floor and at your feet like they were nothing more than trash. Today, though, you can’t give a shit about that. 

Your hands grip your hair in frustration as you hear Neteyam’s body barrel into the door, hot tears racing down your face as you waste valuable seconds staring at the bending wood behind the tipped bookcase. It won’t keep him back for long. He could probably easily push it out of his way, but it's something. Your only hope now is that it keeps him long enough for you to get away and that his instinct driven brain doesn’t realize he can just go back the way he came to get around the obstacle. 

Turning on your heel, you sprint out the bedroom door, heading back down the hallway towards the lab. The sound of the loud crash echoing through the empty hall makes you run impossibly faster. Was it the door finally giving way under his weight? Or was it the bookshelf being tossed to the side like it was nothing and he’s about to barrel down the hallway to finish the job that you’ve somehow managed to postpone until now?

You make it back to the lab, foot smacking against the forgotten hotplate still laying on the ground in your haste to get to the airlock. Your hand smacks against the button on the side wall, fingers practically choking the heavy handle as you go to yank it open. The oxygen masks lay forgotten on the shelf next to the door. You don’t care about them, don’t care about breathing right now because what’s good about breathing when Neteyam could end your need for it in just seconds if he catches you. 

The airlock door hisses as the seal breaks and for a split second you think you’ve done it - have somehow managed to survive this deadly game of cat and mouse you’ve inadvertently been forced to play. You can grab a mask and slip inside the airlock. Keep Neteyam locked up here in the lab while you sit safely outside until the others get back or he comes to his senses enough to remember how to open the airlock door himself. 

But no sooner than the thought crosses your mind, an arm wraps tightly around your waist and pulls you from your death grip on the thick metal door. 

You scream as you’re tossed to the floor, body pressed against the cold tile as Neteyam straddles you. His hips pin your legs down, leaving them useless and unable to buck or kick under his massive weight. You beat at his chest with your fists as hard as you can, trying to ignore how they hurt from your balled up fists trying to hit against pure solid muscle. 

Panic manifests in your desperate cries and you aim for his face too, trying to hit or slap or scratch - anything to get him off of you. You feel like an injured animal caught in a trap. And you suppose you are. 

“Get off!” You cry. “Get off me, Neteyam!”

He snarls as one of your hits lands too close next to his eye and he grabs your hands tightly in one of his, pinning them above your head.

Your screams stop, catching in your throat when the bright fluorescent lights of the lab catch on the knife on his hip. The light caresses the blade as he pulls it from its sheath, the sharp tip sparkling as he brings it to press against the base of your throat.

His face is in front of yours in an instant, so close you feel like you can barely breathe in the wake of the knife resting at your throat and the way his huge eyes feel like twin black holes threatening to suck you into their depths if you move even a single centimeter. 

“Kehe rikx,” His words are hardly more than a whispered breath against your face, but their translation rings loudly in your ears. 

Don’t move. 

The point of the knife drags against your neck, scratching lightly as he draws it down your collarbone. It pulls at the fabric at the neck of your t-shirt as he moves it down your chest, stretching and bunching it down as he scrapes the tip through the valley of your breasts. Your heart pounds under the deadly tip of the weapon and your body wants to fight, keep fighting for your life that you know could be taken from you with just a quick movement of his hand, but your fear keeps you frozen. 

Something hard presses against your trapped thighs and your eyes automatically rip themselves from the knife down to the space between your bodies, and your breathing catches in your throat again for a whole other reason. 

Neteyam’s cock is hard in his loincloth, having escaped its sheath and filling out under the thin material enough to raise a sizable tent inside it. 

He doesn’t give you time to react as his head bends down and latches onto the swell of your breast through your shirt, sharp teeth digging into it just enough for marks to surely be left even through the layers of shirt and bra. You yelp, back arching instinctively against the pain, and your body unfreezes as his teeth scrape against your breast before digging into the material of your shirt and ripping.

The loud sound of tearing fabric rips through the room and Neteyam releases the torn fabric from his mouth just to grip it with his hands instead, pulling up and out and exposing your bra clad torso to his darkened crazed eyes. The knife is still in his hand, but the blade is pointed sideways now as he uses the fingers around it to rip your shirt apart. It’s not smart, not a smart idea at all to try your hand at smacking at him again, but you have to do something. 

You don’t know what he wants anymore. What did that mixture do to him? He was chasing you through these halls, growling and snarling like a predator on the hunt for its next meal, and now he’s on top of you - hard and tearing your clothes off like he wants to fuck you. 

You only get a couple smacks in before the knife is back at your chest and you’re forced still again. Neteyam’s eyes are locked onto your chest, following the tip of the knife as he slides it under the band of your bra directly between your breasts. It cuts easily under the pressure of the sharp knife and the covering falls on either side of your chest, leaving you bare to his hungry gaze. 

There’s a mark on your breast from where his teeth had dug into it and he pauses to stare at it greedily. 

“N-Netayam,” You say, slowly. He seems a little calmer now that he has you trapped under him. You need to talk him to his senses. He’s still in there somewhere. He has to be. He’s not all animal. He can be reasoned with. “You don’t wanna do this. Plea–”

Your plea is cut off as he rises off of you, crouching back just enough to give himself room to flip you roughly over on your stomach. You grunt as your bare chest hits the cold tile, arms splayed uselessly on either side of you as you try to get your bearings from the quick movement before he’s using his knife to cut through the denim of your shorts. 

“Neteyam! Rutxe ftang! Kehe!” 

You don’t know why you think pleading in Na’vi will be any different than English, but desperation punches the frantic words out of you before you can even think about deciding to say them. Your hands finally find purchase on the ground beneath you and you try to push yourself up in hopes of crawling away, but Neteyam’s dropping the knife and taking hold of your hips before you can. 

High pitched squeaking sounds hit your ears as he drags your body across the tile. Your hands scramble frantically against the floor as you’re pulled backwards, but there’s nothing to hold onto. They just slide uselessly, voicing their protest in the way the tile screams under your grasping fingertips as you’re hoisted up with your lower half in the air. 

Your back arches against Neteyam’s hold, legs kicking in the air but doing no harm despite their efforts. The hole he’s created in your shorts is enough to have your pussy on display for him, and you can feel his breath on it - hot puffs are the only warning you get before his mouth is on you. Your voice is raw from all the screaming you’ve done, the sound crackling and almost pained as you shout again - shout for him to stop and to let you go as you kick and squirm and beg. 

You want to cry more, any drying tears of fear you have still tracked on your cheeks are replaced with tears of humiliation. Your clit pulses under his relentless tongue, pussy subconsciously clenching around nothing as he licks and sucks over the puffy folds. 

You’re wet. 

You’re so wet already, body confusing the adrenaline caused by fear and desperation and flooding it with the adrenaline that comes with arousal instead. His textured tongue slips across your sticky cunt, licking up your wetness, and a reluctant moan escapes your lips at the rough feel on your sensitive parts. 

A gleam to your right catches your attention and a flicker of hope rushes through you at the sight. Neteyam’s knife is laying on the ground next to you, scattered just far enough when he dropped it that it's a stretch for you to grab it, but not impossible. He’s distracted by your cunt, chest rumbling in what you can only describe as a more aggressive type of purr and your face contorts in unwanted pleasure as the vibrations pulse against your clit. 

You reach for the knife, using one hand pressed against the tile to gain any kind of leverage you can while your other arm stretches out towards the forgotten blade. You're not even sure what you’re going to do with it when it’s in your hand. Would you just threaten him with it? Tell him to back off and that you’ll use it if he doesn’t? Would you cut him a little to show that you’re serious? 

Would you stab him if it came to it?

Your fingers graze along the hilt of the knife, fingertips brushing along the part that it can touch and curling in, trying to coax the knife just a bit closer so you can grab it. Neteyam growls into your cunt, and you let out a gasping curse when his foot lands on your wrist, pinning it to the tile before you can work your hand around the knife. 

“You son of a bitch!” You yell, anger burning through your desperation, but all Neteyam does is push his face deeper into your pussy. His large hands rip at the back of your shorts more, fingers digging into the exposed curves of your ass to spread you apart. 

The pressure in your belly intensifies as he sucks on your clit, laving his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves before wrapping his lips around it in what feels like an almost pleasured punishment. 

You’re going to cum. Fuck fuck you’re going to cum on the tongue of the practically feral Na’vi who just chased you through the halls of your own home and made you think he was going to rip you to shreds and leave you to die on the floor for your coworkers to find. It feels so good, so so good and you wail as your pussy spasms against his relentless tongue, contracting against the wet muscle as the coil in your belly bursts in an explosion of uncontrolled pleasure. 

Neteyam groans against your core, lapping up everything you have to offer as you whine and shake. Your legs, still suspended in the air, are becoming numb - the tingling sensation of your limbs losing their life combining with the dramatic pulsing over your oversensitive cunt. 

You grunt as he drops you to the ground, his foot lifting off your wrist as he crouches back up, and you pull it to your chest, cradling it there and quickly checking for any injury as your body automatically tries to curl up in a protective ball. 

His hands are back on your hips in an instant, pulling you back again across the floor until your ass is pressed up against his front. Your blood runs cold when your bare ass meets bare skin. The bulge that was once blocked by the thin layer of his loincloth is now free - large, dominant, and demanding of attention as it presses tightly against you. 

Demanding of your attention. 

The hand on the back of your neck is uncaring as it pushes you down, forcing your face against the white tiled floor as he lines himself up with your entrance. 

“Neteyam, no! Please!” You beg, even as your back is forced to arch from the exposed position he has you in.

And maybe if this was a different situation, a different circumstance, he would have used this opportunity to tease you. Tell you to stop fussing and stay still. To be a good girl for him while he fucks your tight cunt and maybe if you’re good enough, he would let you cum again. You would let him. Neteyam is beautiful, more handsome than any other Na’vi you’ve ever seen. If he would have been kind to you and shown interest in you like that, you would have agreed to fuck him in a heartbeat. 

But he’s not himself. Doesn’t even have his mind enough to acknowledge your pleas with anything more than agitated snarls and frustrated growls. 

His cock feels monstrous as he rubs it between your soaked folds. Thick and hard as the wetness of his own slick mixes with the sticky mess you have already between your thighs. The head of his cock rubs against your tender clit and you can feel how the sheer size of it forces your pussy lips apart.

You can’t take it inside you. Fuck. You can’t. You can’t. 

You whimper when the tip makes its way back to your entrance, nudging against it before the blunt tip presses forward. Your hands press into the tile on either side of your head, mouth falling open in a silent scream even as he presses your cheek further into the floor as he pushes his cock further into you. You feel every thick inch of it as it spears you open, and you expect it to hurt. It should hurt, especially with the way you’re clamping down around him, body automatically trying to keep it out even as it bullies its way deeper inside you.

There’s pressure, so much pressure. He’s too big, large alien cock way too much for your tiny human body to take, but somehow it is. Your brain is trying to tell you to panic, that the pressure is pain and you should scream and cry and try to wiggle away from it. But it's not. He’s stretching you so much, filling you up - but it doesn’t. hurt.

And that realization hurts you more than the cock currently rearranging your guts ever could.

You know it’s the slick. Despite never being with a Na’vi yourself, you know that the wetness that coats a male’s cock to aid it with slipping out of its protective sheath has something in it that eases the pain of penetration. It’s a good thing. Inherently helpful for any relationship, especially for those between a human and a Na’vi to curb the extra struggle of the size difference. 

You always thought it was sweet. A way for Eywa to reward the loyalty of the good sky people who are lucky enough to find everlasting bonds with her own children. 

Now, the idea of it leaves a bad taste in your mouth as the cock inside you pulls out only to thrust in harder. The texture on his cock scrapes against your slick walls as he starts to fuck you, the bumps and barbs rubbing and pressing against the sensitive spots inside you that you didn’t even know you had. 

A waterfall of moans and whines rip from your throat as he moves faster, your higher pitched pathetic sounds a stark contrast to his deep guttural grunts. His hand is off the back of your neck now, instead finding a place at the side of your face as he keeps you pinned to the floor. It’s so big compared to your head that it spans the entirety of it, thumb hooking just under the edge of your jaw while his fingers curl around the top of your head as he holds you down. 

Your thighs shake underneath you as he pounds into you, thick cock so far inside you that you know there has to be a bulge in your belly. There is, you can feel it. The way the head of his cock pushes against your lower abdomen roughly with each thrust and you know that if you could move your hands from the death grip press they have on the tile, you could feel it disappear and reappear under your palm. 

He adjusts behind you, both feet planted on the ground as he crouches behind you to try to push in deeper. Pleasure soaks into your brain as you subconsciously push back against him, pussy clenching and squeezing around him trying to suck him in. 

“N-Neteyam,” And you have more to say, you do. But you can’t form thoughts anymore. Nothing else will come out other than little punched out breathless gasps. 

It takes you a long time to realize that he’s speaking, and even longer for your fucked up and fucked out raddled brain to register what he’s saying. It’s not normal sentences, it’s not even English. His words are still animalistic, growled through gritted teeth as he spits out broken Na’vi between his groans of pleasure. You grew up with the language, but you’re so distracted, so overwhelmed by him and the cock inside you that your brain can’t seem to latch on to what he’s saying. 

You think you hear the word for ‘whore’, maybe ‘take it’, something ‘baby’ but you can’t be sure. 

And then he’s leaning forward, body curving overtop yours as he covers you completely. It’s only then you feel what you’ve been too distracted to notice. The thick knot at the base of his cock, fully engorged now as it prods at your entrance. 

Your hands finally leave their place pressed against the floor as you throw them behind you in newfound panic. One hand pushes against his abdomen as best as it can, trying to slow his thrusts while the other grabs at his wrist in an effort to pull his hand away from your face. The hand on his abdomen doesn’t do anything to slow his relentless pace, but the hand on the side of your head moves to tangle in your hair, gripping it in his fist close to your scalp just hard enough to burn a little as he yanks your head back. 

You gasp at the sharp sting and your gasp quickly turns into a whimper as his knot presses tighter against your soaking hole. He’s unforgiving as he digs it against you, holding your hair tight and forcing your back to arch as you stretch even further around it. You’re too wet, pussy too wet and almost greedy and it takes him in, determined despite the obscene size of the engorged ball of tissue.

“Please!” You squeal. Please stop. Please more. “Neteyam, fuck!”

Your eyes roll back into your head when the knot slips inside you, sheathing itself within your heat with another solid push of Neteyam’s hips against your ass. His cock hits that spot inside you that makes you see stars, your vision whiting out and there feels like there’s cotton in your ears as you cum around him, squeezing him tightly as you soak his length in your juices. Your breath catches in your lungs when you feel his cock pulse inside you, twitching and feeling like it’s expanding even bigger as his own orgasm hits him. 

He holds you close, keeping you pinned and still underneath him with the savage hand in your hair and the firm grip he has on your hip - fierce and unmoving as if to keep you from running away.

As if you even could with the knot locked inside you. 

His growl of pleasure reverberates off the walls as he paints yours. Long, thick ropes of release coating your insides and it's so much, so so much that you feel like you can’t fit anymore. Like if he cums anymore, you’ll burst. The knot is still lodged inside you, locked in and refusing to let you free, but there’s no space left inside you, no space, and you feel the excess cum seep out of your hole from around his knot to trail down the insides of your thighs. 

You don’t remember blacking out, and you’re not sure when Neteyam was able to pull free from you or when he passed out next to you either. But when you wake up next, it’s to voices.

“Oh my gosh!”

“Y/N!”

“What the fuck happened?”

The bright florescent lights of the lab are blinding when you try to open your eyes. Exhaustion seeps from every pore of your body and fuck, you feel so sore. 

Norm’s shocked face is looking down at you when your eyes finally adjust to the light, Max and a few of the other scientists are behind him, faces an equal mixture of shock and horror as they stare at you with wide eyes. 

It takes you a moment to remember what happened - why you’re here, waking up on the cold floor of the lab. Naked. You scramble up, hands clutching at your chest as you desperately try to cover yourself. A deep groan to your right steals your attention from your group of onlookers, and your eyes fall on Neteyam, just waking up from his own sleep.

His eyes are back to their normal gold as they open, groggy at first and then alert in a heartbeat as it registers where he is. He’s up in a crouch in an instant, looking ready to fight but not really sure what he’s supposed to be fighting. Those golden eyes catch on the group, confusion twisting on his face and you can practically see the gears in his brain turning as he tries to figure out what’s going on. 

Then his eyes meet yours, taking in your torn clothes and near nakedness, and you sit in horror as it clicks for him what must have happened. 

And you watch as the horror in your eyes becomes mirrored in his. 

**Special thanks to @quicktosimp and @itchaboi-itchyboy for the prompt!

Taglist: @eywaite @loaksulluyswife @erenjaegerwifee @f-cklife @beautiful-brown-skin-05 @minnory @localjasmine @skywonder @neteyamswillow @luvv4j4ybe11 @vampirefilmlover @aria-tempest @pocky444 @bambithewriter @xylianasblog @anemonelovesfiction @criticallybella

**Comment here to be added to/removed from my taglist!

[folkwhoreberry]

Random Request thought 🤔

So . . .Mattheo with a ravenclaw!reader, who keeps him in line (as best as possible, 🙏 pray for her she's got a hand full). Reader calls Mattheo "birdie." and overall reader is more on the serious side, but she doesn't care to hide the fact she loves her birdie, even though she has a little reputation of being distant toward people.

I have no set stone ideas for this, just fluff, sweet cute, and cozy. But I did give more about reader, I like bubbly readers but it is a little weird to me after a while since I'm not bubbly. Overall do as you want as long as it's fluffy. ❤️ (Stay safe and hydrated)

The Birdie And The Raven

mattheo riddle x reader

or... the one where the snake is a birdie

word count : 791

warning : none, english is not my first language!!!

on the radio : so american by olivia rodrigo

🚬🖤

the great hall was bustling with noise as usual, but you were seated comfortably at the slytherin table, your spot next to mattheo well established. it didn’t matter that you were a ravenclaw - no one was brave enough to challenge mattheo’s decision to have you at his side. even the professors didn’t bother to argue anymore. they had long since learned that mattheo riddle’s requests, especially when harmless, were better left unquestioned.

you sat close to him, flipping through your notes for the day’s classes, while mattheo - true to form - was more interested in trying to get your attention.

“baby, you’re too serious in the mornings,” mattheo murmured, his lips quirking up into a grin as he nudged your shoulder.

without looking up, you swatted his arm lightly. “someone has to be serious when you’re around, birdie.”

the nickname slipped from your lips so easily now, and you couldn’t help but smile just a little as you said it. mattheo might have had a reputation for being a troublemaker, but to you, he was your birdie - a term of endearment that no one else was allowed to use. it was reserved for the rare moments when you needed to keep him in line, reminding him that, despite your usually distant and composed demeanor, he meant the world to you.

“don’t start with that,” mattheo muttered, though you could see the corners of his mouth twitching into a grin. “you know I love when you call me that, but you’ll get me all soft in front of the others.”

you glanced at him then, raising an eyebrow. “maybe you should behave, then.”

theodore, sitting across from you, snickered at the exchange. “she’s got you under control, mate.”

mattheo shot him a look, but there was no real bite to it. with you, he was always a little more relaxed, a little more focused - something no one else could pull out of him. you had a way of keeping him grounded, and while he’d never admit it to the others, he loved that about you.

——————

after breakfast, the two of you made your way to potions class. as usual, mattheo claimed the seat at the back of the classroom, pulling you down next to him with a grin. “come on, baby, sit with me. it’s going to be a long one today.”

you rolled your eyes, but you settled beside him, already knowing how this was going to go. mattheo and theodore never took potions seriously, and it was always up to you to make sure they didn’t do something stupid enough to earn detention. the professor began the lesson, droning on about ingredients and techniques, but mattheo had already lost interest. you could see him out of the corner of your eye, whispering something to theodore, and you knew he was about to push his luck.

sure enough, his hand started inching toward a vial of powdered asphodel.

“mattheo,” you said quietly, not bothering to look up from your notes. “don’t.”

“what? I wasn’t going to do anything,” he replied, though his hand froze where it was.

“birdie,” you warned, your tone firm. “don’t make me stop you in front of everyone.”

theodore snickered again, and mattheo gave him an annoyed glance. but he quickly withdrew his hand, leaning back in his chair with a dramatic sigh. “you’re no fun, baby.”

you finally looked at him, your expression calm but unyielding. “someone has to keep you in line. and I’m not letting you get detention again.”

mattheo huffed, but you could see the amusement dancing in his eyes. he might have acted annoyed, but deep down, you knew he loved it when you called him birdie. it was your way of reminding him that, no matter how distant you might seem to others, you cared about him more than anything. and despite all his antics, he respected that.

as the class went on, mattheo behaved, at least by his standards. every now and then, he’d nudge you or whisper something teasing in your ear, but he didn’t cause any trouble. you knew how to keep him in check, and he, in turn, knew just how much he could get away with before you’d step in.

after class, as you gathered your things, mattheo leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to your temple, his voice low and teasing. “you’re lucky I love you, darling. otherwise, I’d be causing all kinds of trouble.”

you smiled faintly, giving him a sidelong glance. “and you’re lucky I love you. otherwise, you’d be in detention every day.”

he grinned, wrapping an arm around your waist as the two of you left the classroom together. “yeah, yeah. whatever you say, baby.”

————————————————————————————

© all rights reserved to folkwhoreberry. no stealing or copying will be tolerated.

a/n : reader didn’t turn out as bubbly as I wanted her to be💔💔 but hope you like it either way!!!

[elverrie]

a couple unimportant things i divert my attention to think about cause i have only one btvs ep left and it makes me sad:

can vampires drive cars safely, if they have tinted windows? not with black paint, but normal ones.

how in the reboot the slayers will be able to pick out vampires from the crowd by their outfits with 80-90s and y2k styles being everywhere right now?

fucking hate everyone (except spike, obviously) ganging up on buffy for "the bad fast food" smell on her. my bestie worked at a fast food chain and i never felt some kinda awful stench on her, and i`m sensetive to smell. even if buffy had a food scent on her, IT WASN`T DISGUSTING, YOU PRICKS. i bet xander reeked with his oudor, but nobody seemed to complain about it.

vengeance demons base their work on wishes, and sometimes these wishes are not with a malicious intent - like with dawn. it was bad, but not ripping hearts out bad. so, if dawn had wished joyce to come back to life, would they have been able to do it and not in zombie-like way?

buffy summers olympic skater au. she performes incredibly difficult elements like easing from a backflip to a tripple axel and then gets banned for such crazy stunts.

buffy could`ve been a great stuntwoman and that would`ve brought a steady income.

how does dru do her make up if she can`t see herself in the mirror? and how does spike bleach his hair? or maybe he just heavily relies on purple shampoos. or did they help each other? or! if demons` eyes can see things that human`s cannot, then can vampires see themselves in the mirror?

oz and spike guy`s night: dying each others hair and painting nails. xander was never invited.

between s5 and s6 dawn definitely messed up with spike`s hair and for a week it had a light pink hue to it. but spike loves his niblet too much to be truly angry with her - he`d rather let her screw his hair then impulsively wreck her own and then be devastated also about it, when she is already so down.

buffy summers is a freak and a biter. she should have used s7 opportunity with the chains on spike for her own advantage- WHAT who said that??

spuffy much ado about nothing au YEP YEP

anya and willow should`ve gotten together. yes, it got sexy between them, stop denying.

spike is the best person to ask "would he still love you, if you were a worm". this man would built a tiny worm house for you, steal the best worm food and browse books how to get you back in a human form.

but buffy doesn`t ask that question, he is the one to ask her.

i still don`t get how oz was able to control his transfornation during the full moon.

how is sunnydale still such a relatively highly populated place, if a lot more people die there daily then in any other regular places. how are there still so many people left?

i bet spike sprinkles a tiny bit of garlic powder on his blooming onion, cause he likes the tingling sensation in his mouth. HE IS A FREAK.

faith listens to chappell roan and thinks about buffy. you should have kissed her on the mouth, dummy!

[clarkeyscvntymullet]

SNOW AND SLOPES - ARTHUR TV

content warning: alcohol consumption, falling, injury, use of drugs (painkillers for medical use)

word count: 1100 words

A/N : combining my favourite holiday and my favourite youtuber(s)

masterlist here !!

The ski trip had been perfect. You, your boyfriend Arthur, and your friends George, Chris, and Harry had spent the morning carving through fresh powder, racing down the slopes, and occasionally wiping out in ways that left you all breathless with laughter. The air was crisp, the sun glittered off the snow like scattered diamonds, and the whole day felt pulled from a postcard.

Of course, nothing ever lasts forever.

It began during a long lunch at the cosy ski lodge, where a few drinks mysteriously appeared on the table. You weren’t entirely sure whose spectacular idea it was, but soon enough, Arthur had polished off two beers, and the rest of you weren’t far behind.

"You know, we should really take it easy after drinking," you had said, sipping your much more sensible mulled wine. Arthur just laughed, slinging an arm around your shoulder. "Babe, please. I could do these slopes blindfolded."

"That sounds like a terrible idea," Harry had muttered.

"What’s life without a little risk?" Arthur grinned, finishing his drink.

"Okay, but let’s try not to make that risk a broken bone," Chris had added, taking over the role as the voice of reason.

But reason didn’t stand a chance against Arthur’s bravado. You should’ve known something was coming when he insisted on taking one of the steeper runs first. You protested, but he just gave you a cocky wink before strapping on his snowboard.

George, Chris, and Harry were already partway down the hill when it happened. Arthur launched confidently - until his board came over a patch of uneven ice.

His body twisted, as he yelled some kind of rushed warning to the skiiers infront of him.

Then, you heard a crash. A sickening, heart-sinking crunch as he slammed into the snow, snowboard clipping off, before coming to a halt.

"Oh, shit," George said, already moving toward him. But you were faster, skiing quickly down to Arthur's side. You unclipped your skis and immediately dropped to your knees beside him, brushing snow from his eyes. "Arthur, talk to me, babe, are you okay?"

He groaned, blinking up at you. "Mmm, I don't know, my shoulder-."

Your stomach dropped, cutting him off. "Where does it hurt?"

Arthur shifted, then gasped sharply, face twisted with pain. "Shoulder, fuck, ouch."

"Okay, okay - don’t move." You swept back his snowy fringe from his face, your hands shaking as you tried to stay calm - but all of this made you feel ill, with broken bones always never failing to make you queasy, but Arthur was more important right now.

Chris, George, and Harry skied to a stop nearby, their earlier excitement replaced by sudden alarm, as three furrowed brows met your eyeline.

"Fuck me, that looked brutal," Harry said, crouching down. "Can you move your arm?"

Arthur let out a pained half-laugh. "I’d really rather not."

George grimaced, too feeling a bit ill. "Mate, I hate to say it, but that was one of the nastiest crashes I’ve seen in my time."

"And you've been skiing a lot, so that's saying something." Chris added.

"Was it really that bad, do you think?" Arthur groaned.

Ski patrol arrived shortly after, flagged by someone further up the slope. They strapped Arthur onto a stretcher while you held his hand, whispering quietly as he clenched his jaw, in hopes to cancel the pain.

"I should’ve listened to you," he mumbled. "About the drinks, I'm such a dick."

You sighed, squeezing his hand. "Yeah, you kind of are, but let’s get you fixed first, okay?"

The hospital was a blur of forms, X-rays, and waiting rooms, you were thanking God that nothing had happened and that you had medical insurance. You stayed by Arthur’s side, gently running your fingers through his hair as the doctor confirmed it: a fractured collarbone. Not catastrophic, but enough to make the rest of the trip a large struggle.

Back at your lodge, the morphine had completely kicked in, leaving Arthur extremely dopey and out of it.

"You’re so pretty," he slurred as you struggled to help him out of his jacket.

"Thanks, babe," you said, stifling a giggle and tugging the end of his navy jumper. "Now lift your arm a little so I can get your jumper off."

"But I like this jumper," he complained, collapsing onto the bed. "It’s so soft."

"You’ll like it even more when you’re not sleeping in it, it's cashmere, Arth - you'll overheat," you teased, finally getting him changed and tucked into something comfortable.

A knock sounded at the door. "That’ll be the others," you said, opening it to find George, Chris, and Harry outside, looking far too entertained.

"We brought gifts," Chris said, holding up a bag of snacks.

"And our deepest sympathies," George added. "How’s the patient?"

You gestured to Arthur, now fully cocooned in blankets. "Drowsy, dopey and a little bit dramatic. He's definitely milking it for a bit of extra attention."

"I am injured," Arthur protested weakly.

"Oh, we know," George said with a grin. "That's why we came over, to make you feel better about yourself - you fucking tosspot."

"And to watch you try to eat with one arm," Chris added.

"I hate you," Arthur groaned.

Harry sat down on the bed’s edge, his tone softer. "Seriously though, you alright - this is why we shouldn't let you drink, you're a liability, Television."

You kissed Arthur's forehead, and addressed Harry. "Good thing he's got a very devoted girlfriend to take care of him."

Arthur smiled, leaning into your touch. "Every cloud."

Chris mad mock gagging noises. "Get the fuck up man, you two are grim."

"Just wait until you have to watch as she’s spoon-feeding me dinner," Arthur said, eyes gleaming.

"Oh God," George groaned. "We’re never letting you live this down."

Arthur laughed - just a light chuckle, and you felt some of the tension in your shoulders ease. He was okay, bruised and bandaged, but certainly okay.

"For the record," he murmured in your ear, voice low and affectionate, "I’d let you take care of me anytime."

You smiled, kissing his hair. "How fortunate, because you don’t have a choice."

[whatdidtheydotomygirljinx]

Why Episode 7 is the worst episode in all of Season 2.

This fuckass Timebomb ship is the worst thing to ever happen to Jinx's character.

Ok so finally we're gonna talk about Boy Savior Complex and AU Girl Next Door Powder

This is gonna be long. Also, we're not only talking about Episode 7 and Timebomb, we're also discussing Jinx's suicide attempt and how her character's resolution is actually really sad.

First of all, Jinx never liked Ekko back. Season 1 makes it pretty clear that they're friends, and that Ekko has an unrequited crush on her. His feelings are clear, but she never shows any reciprocation. And, no, the art book that came out after season 2 concluded doesn't count. You can't just put "the boy with the unrequited crush" trope in your story and then retract it.

And now to get to the serious part... who the fuck is AU Powder?

Ekko gets transported into this alternate timeline where we the audience soon realize everyone is happy and none of the conflicts that plague the original story exist and everything is perfect and "as it should be". So this is the ideal world and the one where all these characters reach their highest form of happiness. Even Silco is back with Vander.

And in this ideal world Powder is... a waitress at The Last Drop? I rewatched this episode and I genuinely tried to pay attention to see what does she actually DO. Like what occupies her time in this universe. And between Vander's line about how she's "too smart to be spending her life in a bar" and the fact that she is at one point behind the counter (while Ekko is studying his books... imma get back to that) and the fact that we never see her in any other places besides the bar and her hideout and that one time Ekko takes her out... this seems to be it.

So in the perfect timeline, Powder has decided to stay back with her family once she's grown up, to remain with Vander and help him run his bar, and implicitly has no big ambitions of her own, and definitely no ideas that she would sacrifice her family life for.

Now... Powder/Jinx as a family person is not actually wrong characterization. This is pretty congruent with her character in season 1. Her entire story and literally everything revolves around her family and not much else. When she's Powder she's attached at the hip to Vi and when she's Jinx she doesn't seem too interested in the world outside of her hideout and Silco's office. So considering all we know, yes, Jinx does place family first.

And this is pretty assumed by the show. Now, I also characterized her like this in season 1! She is a family girl. And Jinx happens to have all these people with big revolutionary ideas around her, be it Vander or Vi or Silco or Sevika, but she herself never actually seems much interested in that. She has a small moment in arc 1 of season 1, which i think it's significant to mention comes right after Vi plants the idea in her head. It would've been one thing if these ideas stayed with her, but post time-skip she doesn't bring anything like that up again. She mostly acts like a bored teenager whenever Silco drags her to the river to tell her all about his tragic past that radicalized him. Overall, any time she exhibits any revolutionary spirit, it seems to actually be more of a personal vendetta for her.

So, okay, Jinx is a family girl and she's never really actually been about all these big ideas, I can agree with the writers that this represents her character.

It's just that... this much?

Man, COME ON. There were people making "Everything's Perfect" AUs since season 1, and they almost all had Powder be a student at the Academy. This girl was clearly passionate about her little inventions, her bombs didn't work but she kept and kept trying. You're telling me she would be completely uninterested in learning more about engineering, in getting a formal education in that, in doing anything with it? Since in this world, there's peace between Piltover and Zaun, we can't talk about any barriers to her becoming a student. And, for that matter, in League lore there's an academy in Zaun, too, that she could have attended.

Even Ekko points it out, man. Now, to the writers' credit, the story acknowledges quite clearly that Powder choosing to stay with Vander and help him run the bar is weird. It just... never explains it. Like why is she like this, though? Let's throw out some possibilies:

(1) in some scenes, there seems to be a little "jinxiness" in this Powder, too. maybe she's aware of that side of her, and doesn't like it, and fears that if she went off and did what she wanted, and was truly herself, it would ruin what she has, "things are good now" (in this case, this Powder is actually a tragic character. nowhere near ideal timeline stuff.)

(2) in act 1 of season 1, the reason Vi makes Powder stay back is because she fears losing her, after Vander tells her that she might lose Powder in a confrontation with Piltover. since Vi dies in this universe, on a job, maybe in that moment Powder internalizes that rocking the boat in any way is bad. Vi was spirited and had big ideas and wanted to be someone and it led to her death. so maybe this Powder gave up on all of that then. Vander seems like the type to give her a "look what happens" speech, too.

But these are just my theories. This doesn't ever get properly explained in the show. So then maybe Powder is actually content like this and likes this and maybe these people constantly pestering her that she could do and be more are just annoying nuisances to her, same as Sevika is an annoying nuisance to Jinx in the original timeline (although there it makes significantly more sense).

(Also, why is Vi even dead in this universe? They could've easily found another way for Piltover and Zaun to make peace. Guess Jinx doesn't even get to be happy in the Perfect Timeline, goddamn, girl really is cursed after all.)

If you're gonna spend an entire episode on fix-it fanfiction that is supposed to pander to fans and give them, on screen, what they always wanted to see, why didn't we get grown up Powder in a cute academy uniform, being a top student and working on school projects and being loved by her professors cause girl was a prodigy.

Instead... this is Ekko in this universe, actually.

Ekko is the "big idea guy" and he's working on an entry to the innovations fair and he gets to be Heimerdinger's pupil. To her credit, this Powder still seems to be very smart, Ekko comes to her for help cause he can't actually build his invention alone. But she only uses her intellect to help Ekko. I always thought it would be Powder who would be Heimerdinger's pupil. Instead, here, she's hanging off Ekko's arm, and being all cute, as he discusses Important Stuff with Heimerdinger, stuff that she doesn't get to be privy to, but that she is expected to help them with anyway.

So AU Powder is this very smart girl who is helping her boyfriend build his entry for a contest because he can't actually do it himself but it's okay she'll help him of course and no he can take all the credit she doesn't want to be recognized or anything or to go to like University that would be crazy she's doing it cause she loves him and she's sweet like that and she likes to help others and she doesn't have any character traits that make her difficult she's just a cute funny and relatable down-to-earth girl and she pokes fun at Ekko but like in a loving way and she likes being a waitress and she'd rather be recognized for her dancing skills and................ I'm sorry.....................

So you're telling me Ekko gets transported into an alternate timeline in which his childhood crush who never liked him back is stripped of all her personality, has no goals or ambitions of her own and has no interests besides being his supportive girlfriend, is devoid of all the traits that might have made a relationship with her difficult, and despite the fact that she never showed interest in him in the original world, here she is head over heels for him, always acting all lovey-dovey with him and being nothing but a cute and affectionate puppy.

This is every little boy's with an unrequited crush dream right here. Man, Ekko won more than any other character in this show. And she's mentally ill, too! He's hit the jackpot. Y'all what the fuck am I watching.

I'm sorry but literally ALL I COULD FUCKING SEE WHEN I WAS WATCHING THIS STUPID DANCE SCENE was that in this universe Powder is a good christian girl who stays home with her dad and loves her boyfriend and is always happy to help WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS GOOD GIRL PROPAGANDA get this bullshit OFF my fucking screen I cannot fucking believe what I'm watching here

Moving on.

Ekko has hurt Jinx more than any other character in the show.

Physically speaking.

Ekko is the one who does this.

Which leads to this.

Which ultimately leads to this.

It has always confused me and it continues to confuse me why no one in this fandom treats Jinx being injected with shimmer as a big deal, when this is the worst thing that happens to her post episode 3. And it's a point of no return for her character, she can't undo this. And yeah I know everyone thought Shimmer Jinx was cool in season 2, but her being turned into a half-dead monster is not a good progression for her character. She also goes through agonizing pain in the process.

Singed agrees.

It's Ekko who forces Jinx between death and being turned into a half-dead corpse. It's actually insane to me that no one in the fandom considers this and that this is never brought up in the show. If they wanted Jinx and Ekko to be a thing, you'd think this would be a big deal in their relationship. Ekko has changed her irreparably, for the worse.

Idk, is the guy who beat you up and left you for dead really boyfriend material?

This is the first moment Jinx shows any interest in Ekko. Interesting timing.

I'm pretty sure she doesn't even mention his name post act 3 of season 1. She doesn't wonder about whether he's alright after the bridge fight (for that matter, neither does he). The first time when Jinx looks at him with any hint of affection is when she's standing on a ledge, ready to throw herself off.

Jinx has no one anymore at this point. Her old family is long gone. Silco is dead. Isha is dead. Vi has decided having a good time with Caitlyn is more important than her. This is Jinx at her lowest moment. Does she like him back or is he just the only one who showed up?

Ekko is a winner once again. His crush has been abandoned by everyone, and he is the only one left to comfort her. Luck like this is hard to come by. And of course, she's gonna be super impressed and touched by any sliver of affection now. Probably gonna look at him with big, grateful eyes, and see him as her savior. I'm disgusted.

By the way, this should have never been Ekko. If Vi was too busy with fucking Caitlyn, this should have been Sevika. Sevika is the only character who has known Jinx since she was a child, and who has been with her through every iteration. And she's the only character who has never cared whether she's Jinx or Powder or any other persona she decides to take up, to her she'll always just be an annoying kid. And to Jinx this might actually be comforting. Sevika is the only one who has a realistic perspective on Jinx, and recognizes her flaws, so her talking her down might have actually been very touching, and there are things she could tell her that neither Vi nor Silco could.

(The fuck could Ekko tell her, honestly? That he went off to an alternate universe where she was his perfect girlfriend, so she shouldn't kill herself actually? What the fuck.)

I also wanna talk a bit about Jinx's resolution as a character. Not her fake-out death, but her in the last episode. I think it's interesting that everyone who had a connection to Jinx is gone, namely Silco and Isha. Silco and Isha are both people she chooses, actively, and she is herself around. Instead, now, she's back to Vi and Ekko, the same people that were with her in her childhood. This is a full circle moment for her.

This is Powder right here, guys. Powder was a little girl who made a mistake and then she went off on this journey where she met new people and she was someone else and it was fun for a while but ultimately she realized what she was doing was bad and she came back to her family and is ready to be that little, sweet girl again. The problem with the Powder-Jinx dichotomy is that Jinx, as much as she represents all this bad stuff that the show has made clear, also represents Freedom and Power, two things that Powder definitively lacked. Her coming full circle, coming back to Powder, is not actually a good resolution for her. She's right back where she started, with Vi and Ekko. Her venturing off on her own and making her own decisions was ultimately a mistake that only lead to her suffering. We can take this all the way back to when she decides to venture off on her own with that bomb, despite Vi's disagreement, and the consequences plague her for the rest of the story.

I know everyone thought it looked super cool when she lifted off that hood, but I could only think it was tragic.

[bwat5-blog]

It Was Never Jinx's War

**Spoilers For Arcane**

I have written quite a bit about Jinx, and touched on this topic briefly, but I felt that it deserved more than my sarcastic blurbs. Today I wanted to talk a little bit about Jinx, and her being forced into the role of a revolutionary by her people and fans alike. So what do I actually mean?

I mean to address statements like these from fans:

Jinx should have lead Zaun in a civil war!

Jinx should have ripped Caitlyn apart!

The writers are coward for making Jinx apologize to Caitlyn!

What did they do to Revolutionary Jinx?! She was meant to lead the uprising!

I'm not going to spend time going through her whole story again. I have done so many times in various forms as have many others. And I have to assume if you are on Tumblr reading some grouchy nerd's rambling about Jinx, you already know her story. So first let's discuss one question.

Does Jinx hate Piltover/The Enforcers?

OBVIOUSLY. And she has every reason to. Growing up as a Zaunite means she grew up suffering under Piltovan oppression. And the Enforcers took her parent's lives. Take Silco and his teachings totally out of the picture and Jinx still has every reason to feel how she feels. I don't deny that at all. But feeling that way is not the same as being a violent revolutionary for her own reasons and choices. So let's discuss the moments from season 1 that created this false idea that the Jinx we know was fighting for her people's freedom with what she did.

SEASON 1

As A Kid:

It probably seems silly to most of you, it certainly did to me. But I have legitimately seen the example used that Powder was making bombs and had filled one with nails for the Enforcers to justify this idea. Listen folks, she was 11. I'm not saying she didn't want to help her family or wasn't willing. But equating that with wanting to be part of a violent revolution is foolish. In fact we see that childish (not said negatively just honestly) enthusiasm without consideration of consequence play out when she tries to help save Vander.

2. The Theft:

Okay. So this is her first real act as Jinx that I have seen attributed to her being a revolutionary for Zaun fighting the system. Most of the justification for this comes down to the simple fact that she stole from Piltover and hurt Enforcers. Jinx lights a building on fire, drawing Enforcers in using a fake child's voice, then blows it up killing six Enforcers and stealing the hex-tech gemstone. What does that mean?

Stole a source of power from Piltover that gives Silco and opportunity to study hex-tech

Killed Enforcers

Okay. I can see the revolutionary point for sure. Except for one problem. Jinx didn't do any of this for Zaun. Let's roll the tape!

Our reintroduction to Powder who has now become Jinx is the fight between Silco's people and The Firelights on Progress Day. During that incident Jinx sees a firelight that resembles Vi and loses control. This leads to conflict with Sevika.

Later, Sevika and Silco are discussing what happened. Sevika is angry:

Sevika: "She's a problem and we all know it" Silco shuts her down. It is then revealed Jinx has been listening the entire time and she talks with Silco: Jinx: "one of those firelight wackos was a girl with pink hair" Silco: "todays screwup will set us back weeks" Jinx: "I'm sorry" Silco: "I need to know I can rely on you..... Sevika will clean up todays mess" Jinx: "Sevika? That ogre couldn't clean a dust bunny with a blow torch" Silco: "Take some time" Jinx: "I don't need time" Silco: "Take it anyhow"

Jinx is quite visibly upset and leaves

We rejoin Jinx later in her hideout. She is upset, convincing herself it wasn't Vi, talking to the specter of Mylo, justifying the incident that it was just her getting confused. then she says some key dialogue here:

"Now, he thinks I'm weak...I'm not weak... and I'm gonna show him. Oh, I'm gonna show him. You'll see".

And the explosion and theft are how she does so. How she proves to her adoptive father that she isn't weak. And it works! It gives her the validation she is desperate for. When he first comes in he is the most outwardly angry with her we ever see him on screen.

Until she shows him the stone:

Silco values strength above all. We see him espouse this over and over. Jinx has certainly heard it plenty although unless I'm mistaken we don't see him preaching it directly to her until later. She is worried he sees her as lacking the most important quality to him, so she goes out and proves it and now she feels accepted and safe again. Not to mention the fact that her early childhood trauma left a very real mental scar in her regarding feelings of being weak/not ready/a Jinx. I mean come on, it isn't exactly subtle that the specter we see tormenting her more prominently than any is this fucker (calling the delusion that not the dead child. Don't yell at me lol)-

She didn't do any of this for Zaun. She did it because part of her is still a little girl that's terrified if she isn't strong enough she is going to be all alone.

3. The Bridge:

Alright moving on. The next big one that gets mentioned frequently is Jinx attacking the bridge. Again, I can see the argument to a point. Killing the leader of The Enforcers and reclaiming the stone. Definite points for the "Zaunite Revolution". Except for a few things.

She is watching the bridge when Vi says goodbye to Caitlyn & Ekko. Mostly just arguing with "Mylo" about Vi.

2. She doesn't look angry until she sees the stone. The stone that symbolizes Silco's acceptance and recognition of her strength, and therefore his love.

3. She doesn't attack when she sees the stone. she doesn't attack when Marcus shoots Ekko. She is overwhelmed by her mental illness and attacks when Vi "leaves her" again, running back toward the bridge after the gunshot.

4. The symbol of Silco's love is in jeopardy, and she feels like Vi is leaving all over again. Once more she is a little girl facing the terrifying prospect of being all alone again and it's quite simply too much. Look how big Mylo is over her.

I mean this just isn't subtle. This was not the act of a freedom fighter assassinating an enemy. This was the act of a mentally ill young woman losing control and unleashing violence in an attempt to hold on to what she is terrified to lose.

4. Abducting Caitlyn:

Not much to say here but it is worth mentioning as it frequently gets filed under the "Jinx = Oppressed, Caitlyn = Oppressor, so Jinx abduct and possibly torture Caitlyn = Okeydokey Artichokey!" crowd. This didn't have a damn thing to do with Zaun. Because of Silco and Sevika's manipulations, Jinx's history with Enforcers, and Jinx's mental illness she viewed Caitlyn as the one keeping Vi from her and she acted out jealousy, fear and rage.

5. Attack On the Council:

Ok. This is in the big one that is probably the most hotly debated. By now we all know the context here. Jinx has abducted Silco, Vi and Caitlyn to host her dinner party. Silco is now dead, and in a moment of "accepting" who she is Jinx strikes at the Council of Piltover, unknowingly during the very moment they are ratifying Zaunite independence.

Silco's words echo over the strike while the hauntingly beautiful "what could have been" plays. It is truly a moving moment and all sarcasm or nastiness aside let me say that I do understand how people are interpreting this scene the way they are.

Jinx sits in the chair seemingly accepting herself as the daughter of Silco and inheritor of his legacy

Vi blames herself for creating jinx. The camera cuts to Vi multiple times during the song.

Jinx gives the whole "I thought you could love me like you used to" speech. Onece again just piling onto Vi and implying Jinx knows who she is now.

Jinx is clearly remorseful for shooting Silco and striking at his enemies would be a logically fitting way to respond

However, it is not that simple. Jinx is not making the first strike for her people in the wake of her adopted fathers death. She is a grieving, enraged, and yes mentally ill young woman in the middle of a breakdown lashing out at a symbol of pain and loss in her world.

I recently wrote a short sarcastic little blurb about this and that was my bad. This topic deserves more. But someone responded that I was implying Jinx was not capable making plans or decisions in that moment because of her mental illness. That is not what I mean. What I mean is that Jinx's heart and mind are an open ragged wound in this moment, and she lashes out at something that has always symbolized loss and pain and anger. Smashing it down into a first strike for freedom is not only illogical based on narrative evidence, but robs the moment of what Jinx is really going through.

"What Could Have Been":

This song narratively takes us into Jinx's pov as this moment plays out. It is beautiful, and haunting. The key however, as we are hearing Jinx's perspective play out, is to remember that her mind is not well.

We have been watching her unravel more and more since the beginning of S1 A2. Think back to when she and Vi first reunite. She is clearly ashamed of what she has done with Silco. Put that up against her shooting at Vi even one episode later on the bridge.

2. She is still extremely fresh from the Shimmer procedure that even though it saved her life was horrific and painful to the point it could have killed her.

3. She abducts Caitlyn nude from her bathroom and tells Vi she be Powder again if Vi will just murder Caitlyn.

4. She kills Silco in the middle of a breakdown

5. Quite frankly. The whole "dinner party" itself. There is not a damn thing in the world about her behavior or mental state at this time that suggests she is level or even. Her sudden calm after killing Silco isn't a patricide induced clarity. It is a breaking.

She is angry, she is grieving, she is ill and she is afraid. She feels that Vi cannot love her anymore because of who she is and she killed the only other person she had. So she lashes out. And in so-doing actually obliterates her peoples chance of independence.

Intent:

Now I have seen the argument made that it doesn't matter what her reasons or intent were. Because ultimately her actions served Zaun. Did they though?

Blowing up the building and killing six enforcers caused the bridge blockade Her attack on the bridge almost killed Caitlyn, which all personal character bias aside, if she had successfully caused the death of a council woman's daughter Piltover would have gone nuclear. She also almost killed Ekko successfully who was actually a champion for Zaunites. Her attack on the council opens the door for Ambessa and kicks off the events leading to Caitlyn's strike team and the occupation. The most obvious and one that should be taken with a grain of salt given the extenuating circumstances. But Jinx was a part of Silco's operations. Piltover's neglect and oppression may have allowed bad men to rise up and take control, but Silco was their chief. He flooded the lanes with Shimmer regardless of the harm and Jinx played a part in that.

SEASON 2

Alright, moving into season 2. This is where people were angry and feeling that the show was throwing away Jinx's revolutionary arc. But as I've stated it is my belief that is never where her story was going to begin with. So let's dig into some points I feel lend themselves to this point.

Aftermath of Jinx's attack:

What is she doing in the wake of her first strike? Leading battle planning sessions? Nope. Wandering the streets while Chem-Barons rip Zaun apart. Why? Because she wasn't firing the first strike. She was breaking down. And now she is all alone. Her adopted father gone, his organization failing, her sister lost to her.

Ventilation Chamber Battle:

Alright so I see this battle mentioned as well because Jinx and Sevika let The Grey loose in Piltover in retaliation. I wasn't sure if I should discuss this or not, since some people like to pretend Jinx never did this and I don't want to confuse them. But better to be thorough.

As I'm sure you know this is the battle when Vi & Caitlyn finally confront Jinx & Sevika down in the pipeworks of Zaun. They all engage in a massive and brutal brawl to some truly outstanding music, and in the end Sevika detonates a series of charges that send the Grey up into Piltover all over the city.

I have spoken AT LENGTH about the hyperbole and nonsense the fandom has engaged in when it comes to The Grey and Caitlyn. I can assure you I'm not going to magically assign it some ultra-lethal quality just because Jinx is now doing it.

"Jinx was acting in retaliation against their oppressors for Caitlyn's strike team poisoning Zaun's air!"-- You get the idea

The issue of course is that this was not some strategic retaliation in Jinx's rebellion. This was intended to be her suicide and end Vi as well. Jinx wants to die here.

Hard to lead a rebellion when you intend to die at your sisters hands. However I will give Jinx partial credit if that makes anyone feel better. She was at least retaliating against Piltover as well.

Becoming A Symbol:

Alright. This is where we get into Zaun trying to force her into this box as well. Let's do a very quick rundown of events leading up to the occupation of Zaun under Martial Law:

1. Caitlyn leaves Vi after the battle and becomes the commander 2. Caitlyn and Ambessa's forces hunt Jinx throughout Zaun, cannot locate her. Place Zaun under Martial Law until she is caught and try to get Zaunites to turn on her 3. Zaunites make Jinx their symbol of resistance. Their flag to rally behind. Even the spy Maddie says "we made them desperate for something to believe in".

And what has Jinx been doing the entire time?

Which by the way. AS. SHE. SHOULD. She finally found some fucking peace and happiness. But she was not in any fashion out throwing Molotovs and getting arrested. She did not become the symbol of the rebellion because she earned it. She became the symbol because she's the one they had when they need something to believe in. Even when she frees all those people from prison she only does so because she is trying to rescue Isha. And by the way the show is not subtle about what this means for her:

She and Isha are living happily-

When Sevika comes in angry and slamming things and demanding Jinx consider what Silco sacrificed (aside from Jinx's second family of course) Jinx starts glitching and yells.

2. Jinx tearfully admits to Silco's chair she doesn't want to mess up what she has with Isha

3. When Isha is taken and Jinx has no choice but to rejoin the fight, the show is quite clear about the tone it sets for Jinx.

Pop Quiz class, does it seem like they are implying its a good thing?

Side Note:

Jinx has too many barbs, comments, taunts and so on to name regarding her feelings for Piltover. I didn't include them because… duh? She hates Piltover and she hates Enforcers. Again. That is not the same as being a revolutionary. Not to mention at the least in the context of her talking shit to Vi for putting on the badge, it should be noted that all you usually have to do is go a few words in either direction or consider the actual context and her clever jabs at her sister lose some of their luster.

"I busted half of Zaun out of prison while you were passed out in the bottom of a mug" INITIATING TRANSLATION FROM JINX-SPEAK TO REALITY….. "While you were in a self-destructive spiral that was probably going to kill you and caused among other things by my actions as well, I was chilling with Isha during the entire occupation until she went full feral gremlin and got arrested. I freed the others while I was there to get her also"

And that isn't hating on Jinx by the way. But people like to use all her clever little comments to really sell this whole image of her character and justify screaming about her not leading the massacre of Piltover or something at the end so it seemed worth mentioning.

Conclusion

So. When it is all said and done, why even touch on this? Because I think people so stuck on wanting her to be a revolutionary for Zaun are missing the point. Sure her feelings were there, but the actions she took were never for Zaun's freedom. That isn't her story, just like it isn't Vi's. People watched this show expecting everyone to follow traditional heroic journeys. But not every character is meant to become the leader on the throne. Sometimes, they are the long suffering victim of a system that doesn't really care about them, and although they can fight for and defend their people, their greatest victory is getting to live for themselves and their loved ones in peace.

Think about "Silco's" final speech to Jinx: Break free from these labels and restrictions. These "prisons". Walk away from the cycle because otherwise it will. not. stop. Like most of you I'm sure, I wanted to see Jinx and Vi together as sisters at the end of the show. And I have seen SO. MANY. comments saying it's bullshit that Jinx had to go off on her own so Vi could have a happy ending but these people are seriously missing the point.

Jinx not only gave Vi a chance at a happy ending, but she set off to find her own. She was never going to find peace in Piltover where no matter the circumstances, there were very real people living with the aftermath of her crimes. And she was never going to escape the shadow of Silco returning to Zaun, either being held to account for her part in his crimes or expected to lead their people. And that is to say nothing of the memories of everything she'd lost haunting every corner of Zaun.

I understand if her story wasn't what you wanted. We all had our own preferences and ideas and theories for how things were going to go. But by trying to force Jinx's narrative into a certain box and being angry at the parts that don't fit, you miss out on the story we were given.

A tortured but loving young woman who reclaims her soul, and sets off into the unknown to find her peace. Fulfilling the dream of a bright and inquisitive little girl who dreamed of better days.

*** Yall Tumblr had a seizure right at the finish line and the formatting got all messed up and I wasn't really able to fix it completely. Sorry if this looks weird***

[speed-world]

Well...uh ok story request then I'll do new hc request lol!

Ok story idea...this time baker is the correct thing lol!

Story idea: y/n is just living their life...baking cookies to release into the world since they don't agree with the witches eating living, sentient cookies! One day, cookies invade their hut and it scares y/n, thinking the cookies had mistaken them as one of the witches who Baked them to eat and have come back...FOR REVENGE! (bonus if y/n had talked to witches prior, confronting them about how they should only eat cookies that aren't alive and don't have life powder and aren't Sentient, and had a talk with them that ended like 'if the cookies one day decide to rise up against you and take revenge for what you did to all of them, don't say I didn't warn you!')

Shenanigans ensue until y/n is successfully knocked out and y/n is terrified as they pass out...

Only to wake up in the cookie world...as a cookie....and turns out cookies did this because they loved y/n and wanted to be able to spoil and love them and give em a happy life...just be the cookie's teddybear and keep y/n all for themselves. (Sorry if that last part sounds weird...just ngl would cuddle the cookies if given the chance. You can just say they did it so y/n could live happily with them and wanted to keep y/n for themselves...knowing they could make y/n happier than those witches.)

Revenge or salvation? (Baker! Y/N One-shot)

TW: little angst, gets resolved

It was that time for another Witch’s Meeting, an event that you…weren’t too much a fan of. Although you did enjoy baking new cookies, and there were some witches that you could tolerate and genuinely be friends with, most of them ticked you off. They aggravated you since after they created their cookies—no—created new life, they ate them, as if their lives were pointless.

Why, you wondered. Why would these witches go as far to create life itself, just to take it away?!

“They’re only cookies, Y/N. We bake them to eat them, simple as that!”

But then what was the purpose for the life powder? What was the reason for making such uniquely living beings, just to destroy-to murder them?!

“So sensitive and sentimental. The life powder only makes them tastier, you can’t get sweets like these anywhere else!”

Then just eat the plain cookies without life powder!! Cookies that are just…treats, not fully sentient and knowledgeable life forms!! This is monstrous, don’t you hear their cries and feel their fear when they freak out before you violently end their lives!?!?

“And you listen to them, as if they matter? They see you to, you know. Tasty little things must be as afraid of you as they are us, no? Fine, keep caring for them as if they have feelings, especially for you, a baker like us. Keep giving them space in your home to live, and once they rebel and attack you for being a witch like us, don’t come crying back to us!!”

You hated their cruel and inhumane words. It was pointless to reason with the unreasonable, so you just ignored them before you could cry. The select few good witches understood and shared your pain, and they’d comfort you the best they could.

You and said witches always made sure to hide your creations from the witches eating their cookies, shielding their eyes and immediately leaving the meeting right when you were done baking. Despite your efforts to hide the truth from your cookies, they saw it all. Your clothes would get soiled from their tears on your way to your own abode, but you were fine with it.

You promised your creations they would never be eaten or see those terrible witches again. You were done with those meetings, you can continue to bake at your own home. You told them that you’ll see them tomorrow in a much better mood, and put your cookies to bed in their own little rooms.

And you most certainly will meet them again, in a very different mood

You awoke to the sounds of small yet loud chants and stomping little feet. You looked from your bed and noticed…your cookies charging at you!

But that wasn’t all, some of the cookies charging at you weren’t even cookies you baked! They were cookies you saw created from the other witches, did they escape their horrible fate?! Other cookies you noticed were completely new, cookies you never saw before!!

Oh no, this was what the witch was talking about!! They really were gonna harm you!!

What were they all do—WHACK!

……how…how long were you out? Your head was slightly hurting, but not as much as you thought it would. You focused your vision as you came to and—

Where…WHERE ARE YOU!?!?

You shot up, but only to wince and tumble down. You rolled over and looked at yourself. …Why is your body flat?! You checked your arms and hands, which were also flat and smelled like…a cookie.

You smelled like a freshly baked cookie with a strong flavor that you remembered as your favorite flavor.

You were on the verge of freaking out until an…oddly energetic bunch of cookies showed up.

“Hey there, glad to see you’re finally awake! I’m Gingerbrave, and welcome to the Cookie Kingdom!”

The…what?!

“The Cookie Kin—“

No, no. You heard him, but you meant as in, a Cookie Kingdom?!? Are you dreaming or hallucinating right now!?

“Uh, no, you aren’t hallucinating…do you not remember anything that happened…?”

You remember being bonked in the head really hard, if that’s anything. …Actually, now you remember a bunch of cookies charging towards you, some of which you baked. And well, then you were hit in the head. Were they trying to kill you for revenge?!

“Oh no, of course not! In fact, the reason we turned you into a cookie is because the last thing we’d ever want is you hurt!”

Oh, okay then. …WAIT THEY TURNED YOU INTO A COOKIE TO SAVE YOU?!? ….that’s actually…kinda neat. Weird, but neat!

“Oh yeah! A few cookies told us everything! About how you’re there baker and wanted nothing to do with those nasty witches! Which I totally get!!”

Those sound like the cookies you baked. They always were caring for you, probably more than you were for them! This new life of yours will need some adjusting to, but seeing as how just about every cookie you spot wants to help you with anything and everything, it seems that this will be fine!

You realized you were saved from dealing with those awful witches, and now you can pay it forward with helping these cookies live a happy life, just as you always wanted them too!

[alwritey-aphrodite]

new year's kiss with remus lupin? 🤍

2024 Holiday Blurbs

this is actually not a blurb at all so… oops

Based on appearances alone, most people assume Remus isn’t quite like his friends, that he’s unwillingly strung along to all these loud parties and big gatherings where you have to yell just to be heard. The truth is, though, he loves it. Sure, he’s not a big fan of waking up with his head splitting in two and his voice gone, but he never feels more alive, more full, more included than he does at these parties.

So, even as he leans against the kitchen doorway with his red plastic cup clutched in his hands, just watching and listening to the comforting chaos that always seems to accompany his friends, there’s a smile on his face because truly, there’s nowhere he’d rather be.

Plus, he has a rather great view of you where you sit at the kitchen table.

“I’m not lying, Sirius!” His attention, which has been wandering, snaps back to you, your voice rising out above the regular din. You don’t sound mad, really, just trying to get the other boy to take you seriously.

“I just don’t believe it!” Sirius counters, towering over you as he stands behind your chair.

“I’ve barely been kissed at all, let alone kissed at midnight on New Year’s,” your voice is full of melancholy, the sort that only seems to appear after someone’s been drinking, and you tip your head back until the top of it rests on Sirius’s stomach, the two of you face to face in the strangest way.

The two of you remain that way, just staring at each other, until Sirius steps back, letting your head fall and grabbing at your hands instead.

“C’mon, c’mon,” he tugs you from your chair and you follow, pliant if not willing. A twisting knot of jealousy forms as Remus watches his best friend lead you from the kitchen and he hates it, hates the gross way it makes him feel, but it only burns brighter and hotter when he hears a door slam.

He abandons his post by the doorway, turning instead into the kitchen proper and pouring himself another drink. The seconds until midnight tick by, and Remus hopes you’ll reappear soon because even if he can’t be the one to kiss you, he couldn’t live with himself if Sirius did. Selfishly, Remus wants you all to himself.

It’s not long after that you reappear, and instead of looking debauched you look refreshed. The shine that had begun to appear on your face, heat from the press of bodies and all the drinks you’ve had, is gone, and your lipstick that has disappeared and smudged against the rim of your cup is once again perfect, just like it was when you arrived. Your hair appears to be restyled, just slightly, and the knot in Remus’s stomach starts to disappear.

“God, I’m hungry,” you say, even as the rings on your fingers clink against the bottle you’re tugging towards you, unscrewing the cap and pouring some into your cup.

“James and Lily should have something, if you want to look,” he replies, and he realizes belatedly that he sounds rather hollow, still trying to shake the gross, sticky jealousy that he has no right to be feeling. He’s had plenty of chances to make a move to ask you to coffee or dinner or the movies, but he hasn’t.

He’s more like his friends than he appears, but he also worries that he’s different from them in some fundamental way. James can be awkward, sure, but it also comes across as rather endearing, and even when Sirius’s swagger starts to slip, he has no problem gaining anyone’s attention. Remus, though, is awkward and clumsy in all the wrong ways, and has to work himself up to be charming and witty, constantly terrified of slipping up and letting everyone down.

“I’ve already ransacked Lily’s makeup, I can’t ransack her cupboards too,” your voice takes on a conspiratorial whisper, and when Remus glances over at you, you’re smiling at him. “I just took some powder and hairpins, the lipstick’s my own,” you add, wanting to cover your tracks even though Lily wouldn’t mind if you’ve gone and rifled through her whole makeup collection.

“I promise not to tell,” Remus responds in the same tone as you, finding it easy to be charming once you’ve set up the game.

“Even if we shouted about it, I don’t think Lily would notice,” you gesture with your head while your hands are busy pouring yourself another drink, and Remus follows your indication and finds Lily and James have gotten a jump on their New Year’s kiss.

“The house could burn down and James wouldn’t notice,” Remus adds, and the two of you share a conspiratorial little giggle.

“They’re disgusting, but god I wish someone would love me like that,” the forlorn expression that had disappeared from your face after your return is back in full force, admitting things you’d never otherwise say out loud without the alcohol coursing through you.

It’s not so much your words as it is your tone, the pure heartbreak and defeat in your eyes, that makes Remus want to make everything better for you. It doesn’t help that he’s painfully in love with you, but seeing you so upset and clearly uncomfortable with this admission would make anyone’s heart ache. He’s been silent for too long, trying to solve this for you, that it’s gotten awkward and you’re shifting your weight from foot to foot and suddenly you’re very interested in the bottom of your cup.

“Do you wanna step outside for a minute? Take a break from everyone?” He’s gotten you to set down your cup and you seem to be contemplating his offer. When you nod in agreement, you seem more tired than sad, a small win but something Remus still finds rather troubling.

To him, you are the sun and the moon and the stars combined, the center of his universe and the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. You’re a supernova, stunning and full of life, and seeing you so drained, even momentarily, seems unnatural. Remus would do anything to get your spark back, would fall supplicant at your feet if that’s what you wanted, but you’d never ask that of him or of anyone. You’re strong, like way centuries old oak trees are, but Remus worries about what might happen when you do, inevitably, break and no one’s there to catch you and help you back together.

The night air is brisk and biting, a shocking difference to the stuffy, overheated atmosphere of the party. It’s stunningly quiet, leaving your ears ringing just a tad, and it takes you a second to adjust, even as the sounds of the party play out as if through a muffled speaker.

“Do you think there’s something wrong with me?” You ask after a few moments of silence that stretched like hours, and Remus is so shocked he might have just swallowed his tongue. “Like, what do I have to fix about myself? I really don’t think all too highly of myself but I think I’m nice enough, and I can be funny, and I’m not the worst looking person on Earth but I should probably smile more, and I just don’t know what to do anymore.” It all comes out in one long, painful, unbroken breath, spilling from you like a faulty tap. Remus is unsure of what to do, what to say, how to make it all better because that’s really all he wants, is for you to feel better. “I just wish I was different, better somehow.”

“Don’t.” Remus is a bit shocked by his own voice, by the firmness he speaks with, but he just can’t help himself. There’s no flowery, fluttery prose he can think of in the moment when all he’s focused on is trying to somehow make you see that there’s no reason for you to change, that he and practically everyone you’ve ever met thinks you’re wonderful in ways he can’t even wrap his mind around.

“Don’t what?” You sound close to tears and Remus instantly wishes he didn’t sound so harsh, so rude, “I’m so tired of it. Being alone.”

“You’re not alone.”

“I am in the ways that matter.”

“That’s not true. I think you’re pretty great.”

“Thanks, Remus,” you laugh a little in the back of your throat, a disbelieving sound. You think he’s just trying to console you, make you feel better, which he is, but he’s also telling the truth as completely as he can without playing all his cards, without scaring you away.

“You’re the greatest,” he starts, and even in the weak light of the streetlamps he sees you beginning to roll your eyes, to protest, so he barrels ahead, “you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, and you’re smart and witty and almost upsettingly kind and cheerful and pleasant to be around. And when I thought Sirius was going to kiss you earlier tonight I wanted to shave his head.”

Your mouth is hanging open, just slightly, perfectly framed by the redness of your lipstick. That stomach-turning sadness in your eyes has all but evaporated and been replaced with something that looks a lot like hope. Remus wants to say more, wants to push out all the words that have been swirling in his brain for months on end, but your attention is stolen away by the sounds of people counting down from ten inside the house. Remus sees his chance, and he takes it.

“I’ve never kissed anyone at midnight before,” he confesses, and your head turns back to him, a shocked giggle making its way up your throat. You're still laughing, grinning, as you place your hands on the side of his face, your rings cool against the heat that had built while he talked, and your lips connect the second the clock strikes twelve.

[primofate]

Scara who has been taken cared of by Nahida, meets girl who he falls in love with. You know the whole "I don't need anyone" turning into "Yeah maybe I deserve this" but slowly.

"It'll be fun!" is what Nahida always told Hat Guy, whenever Holi came around.

It's that festival where people threw coloured powder at each other, if you were unfortunate enough, you might get coloured water thrown on you instead.

Scaramouche hated it.

Every year, he disappeared on the colourful day.

"Oh, there you are, I thought I might find you here," Scaramouche holds back a sigh at your voice coming from behind him. Somehow you had the knack of knowing where he was hiding.

The Aranara hovering around him scattered.

In some ways Scaramouche had found a sort of peace in Sumeru.

Something that he once didn't have.

In the few years that he had stayed here, under Nahida's care, his thoughts about "eternity"--thoughts that things should remain the same, should remain constant, that people should remain as they are--had shifted and turned into an understanding that change...is most definitely inevitable. Especially when knowledge was so abundant everywhere.

"What is it now?" He drawled, head lazily lolling sideways to look at you, all smiles and looking as if you had found a secret hiding amongst the trees and vines.

"Just thought you might need some company," but you don't approach him, and only peer at his face with the same smile.

He doesn't make any move to wave you away or wave you over and just huffs, prying his eyes away from your form. "I had some until you scared the little critters away,"

You guessed he was pertaining to the Aranara. "My apologies then," you humored him and finally sat next to him, the bark of the tree a little rough on your back. "You really hate Holi, huh?"

"I hate the colours,"

"So you don't particularly hate the tradition?"

"I don't have any reason to hate the tradition," Scaramouche is suddenly conscious of your shoulder bumping into his. His eyes briefly darts towards where they meet, and almost immediately darts away to look at the tree leaves swaying in the breeze.

Wordlessly, you lean over to reach the patch of grass in front of the two of you. There are some stray leaves and sticks right around the place that you gather in the middle. Your fingers snap, and quite quickly the flames of pyro lick the small pile alive.

Scaramouche raises an eyebrow in bafflement at what you were doing, but realizes what the purpose was when you sprinkle some sort of magical powder onto the tiny bonfire.

There's a quick burst of strong flame, then it simmers down. The orange turns into a medley of blue, red, pink, green, and many other colours that take turns appearing in the fire. For a second he was mesmerized at the sudden vibrancy of it, but he scoffs and closes his eyes, leaning backwards on the tree when the novelty of it wore off.

"Holi celebrates the triumph of good over evil," you explain, even though you were certain he knew of this already. Your eyes reflect the different coloured flames, dancing around beautifully.

He's silent.

Good and evil.

What really are they? Was he more evil than good? Or was it the other way around? Did it matter?

Scaramouche never pretended to be a saint. Never pretended that he was without sin. He never claimed that he was a good person. Never, and he never thought that he would be a "good" person. None of that was him. None of the word "good" was an inch of him.

"You're most likely celebrating it with the wrong person then," he peeks an eye open to watch you, but also fully opens his eyes to finally watch the flames with you. It's nothing remarkable really. Just a fire that wasn't orange.

"Because you're evil more than good?" You ask and voice his own thoughts aloud, but you follow with a laugh. "Get over yourself, Scaramouche. It's not just about you," The flames start to dwindle in size, the pile of leaves and sticks were scant to begin with. "It's about celebrating the good things in life,"

The good things in life?

He started to think.

Life itself was already so complicated to him.

Adding "good things" was almost something he didn't want to bother with.

What exactly were the "good things" in life?

He was surprised--even shocked--to come to the conclusion that he was able to think about a few things.

Being of use to someone. Being in a place where peace of mind was available. Having quiet nights as opposed to restless nightmares. Having someone go out of their way to look for him and--

The flames disappeared. He blinked back to reality and turned his head to look at you, who was clapping in small delight at the end of the little fire show you made.

"...I suppose I could celebrate that," he mumbled, almost too hard for you to hear.

"Of course you can!" You piped up, now standing and dusting your clothes in preparation to leave. You weren't actually going to bother him for the whole day, just this small celebration was enough for you. "Surely there must be at least one good thing to happen to you here in Sumeru," you shrug and point at the way you came. "I'll be off then. Careful on your way back, red is really hard to wash off,"

He watches as you casually turn to start heading back. "I'll come," he moves up, purposely not meeting your eyes, picking imaginary fluff off of his shoulder. He then crosses his arms over his chest, melding his expression into a grin. "I need a shield anyway,"

You roll your eyes, and walk ahead of him.

He watches your back, for a moment.

Watches, as he starts to accept that you are one of those good things, despite how annoying and persistent you are in trying to get him to celebrate those dumb traditions.

Excuse any mistakes, written in quite a hurry.

[girlkisser13]

"slut!"

"if i’m gonna be drunk" "might as well be drunk in love"

pairings: benedict bridgerton x wife fem!reader

warnings/tags: smut (18+), oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex (practice safe sex guys), porn with plot, multiple orgasms, high and giggly benedict.

summary: you take your husband’s mind off of his upcoming news from the royal academy.

the evening was splendid, the bridgertons and the sharmas were enjoying a delightful dinner in the grand dining room of aubrey hall. laughter and lively conversation filled the room, but you could not help but notice your husband, benedict, was not his usual jovial self. his eyes were unfocused, and his responses to the lively banter around him were uncharacteristically sluggish.

concern creased your brow as you watched him from your seat beside him. "benedict, my dear, are you quite well?" you inquired softly, your hand lightly touching his.

benedict blinked and offered you a faint smile. "indeed, my love. i am merely fatigued from the day’s exertions."

you were not convinced. you knew your husband better than anyone, and something was clearly amiss. as the dinner wore on, you observed him closely, noting the subtle signs of discomfort and distraction.

when the final course was served and the guests began to disperse to the drawing room, you gently took benedict's arm. "i believe it would be wise if we retired early this evening."

benedict nodded gratefully, and the two of you made your excuses to the guests. once the both of you were alone in the sanctuary of your bedchamber, you turned to him, your concern evident. "benedict, pray tell, what troubles you so?"

he sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. "i apologize, y/n. i did not wish to worry you. it is the matter of my acceptance to the royal school. the uncertainty gnaws at me."

your heart ached for him. you knew how much this meant to him, how deeply he yearned for validation of his artistic talent. "oh, benedict. i had no idea it weighed upon you so heavily."

"i took a powdered drug in my tea earlier, hoping it might ease my nerves," he confessed, looking away in shame. "it appears it has had quite the opposite effect."

your eyes widened in alarm. "you took a drug? benedict, you should have confided in me."

"i did not wish to burden you with my anxieties," he admitted, his voice strained. "i thought i could manage on my own."

with gentle hands, you cupped his face, compelling him to meet your gaze. "you need never bear your burdens alone, my dear husband. we are partners in all things, are we not? you shall gain admission to that school, of that i am certain."

he looked at you, his eyes filled with doubt. "how can you be so sure?"

"because i have seen your talent, benedict. it is undeniable, and the royal school would be remiss not to recognize it. but should the worst come to pass, it does not diminish your worth or your gift. you are an extraordinary artist, and no institution can change that."

your words seemed to soothe his troubled spirit, the tension easing from his form. he drew you into a tender embrace, holding you as if you were his lifeline. "thank you, y/n. i cannot fathom what i would do without you."

you returned his embrace, your heart swelling with love."you shall never need to find out, for i shall always be by your side."

benedict smiled, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "thank you, y/n," yet the doubt still lingered in his eyes.

sensing his lingering unease, you gently traced a finger along his jawline. "perhaps i might offer a distraction to take your mind off your worries?"

his eyes flickered with curiosity and a hint of amusement. "and what, pray tell, might that be?"

with a mischievous smile, you leaned in to whisper in his ear, your breath warm against his skin. "let me show you."

you go to sit on the side of the bed, your gown dipping low against your chest, allowing benedict a glimpse at your cleavage. the fabric was light, thin, and smooth over your skin.

“won’t you join me?” he walks over to you, letting you press your palms to his chest, his skin warm through his shirt. your fingers deftly work on her husband’s cravat, untying the knot, unwrapping the length of it until it drapes from his neck, open. you wrap the ends of it about her index and middle fingers, grasping at them, pulling at the length of fabric, drawing him closer to you.

a chuckle rumbles in his chest, as his face draws nearer to you, a satisfied smirk on your face.

you stops when your lips are shy of brushing his and whispered, “ruin me.”

benedict pushes you onto the plush mattress. your legs wrapping around his thighs, his lips crashing into yours, his tongue fiercely caressing yours.

you slipped your arms out of your dress, pushing the fabric down around your hips.

benedict felt himself harden at the sight of your upper body in your corset. he blinked furiously, as if trying to regain control of his sense.

"may i?" he took hold of the fabric around your waist, pulling it out from under you as you lifted yourself slightly, signaling a loud yes.

sitting in your undergarments, benedict wrapped his arms around your body, expertly fiddling with the laces as you nodded fervently into his delectable kisses.

you grinned into his mouth, feeling the corset loosen quickly. your fingers fumbled along the seam of his pants, unfurling the tucked fabric of his dress shirt, fiddling with the buttons of his overcoat.

benedict stopped, throwing his coat across the room and removing his dress shirt as frantically as possible.

it took only seconds for his eyes to widen at your naked body, "my god" he exhaled, lunging forward, thrusting his hand into your hair, pulling you into a devilish kiss.

his hands curved under your behind, lifting you forward to the very edge of the bed before falling to his knees before you as if you were divine, and he, a devout worshipper at the altar.

he littered kisses down your inner thigh, his nose nestling into the soft nest of hair at your mound, he breathed heavily, groaning with pleasure.

benedict's tongue slipped between your folds, circling the most sensitive spot on your body, your hands sliding into his hair, pulling gently as his pace quickened and steadied in a repetitive manner.

never had you felt so safe and yet so powerful, holding benedict's head in place between your thighs. letting out soft, melodic moans, tangling your fingers amongst his hair, finding your hips having a mind of their own as they grounded against him.

the sheer coarseness of benedict's dawning facial hair and the soft, warmth of his darting tongue were plenty enough to push your mind to the edge of the human experience. your head turned dreamy, light, whilst your body convulsed and squeezed benedict's head between your thighs.

panting softly, benedict remained, placing delicate kisses where on your cunt. as your body relaxed into him again, benedict kissed you again, your own sweetness on your tongue now.

he stood before you, bare torso, undoing his dress pants. freeing himself before you, your enlarging eyes took in his length as he held himself in his hand.

"allow me?" benedict looked down at you, sordid passion aflame in his eyes. you gave a clear, concise nod. benedict moved closer between your thighs, adjusting your legs, and placing himself at your entrance.

with both hands sprawled over the space between your belly and your hips, benedict slowly pushed forward, eliciting guttural moans from your lips.

but he never looked away from you, he never closed his eyes for more than a half-second. his desire burned out of him, his eyes searing down on you and in helplessness, you exuded wanton need in return.

you wished this act were eternal, completely unending. every thrust an indiscreet attempt at conveying his affections for you. his hand found its way to caressing your cheek, his teeth nipping at your neck as you moaned his name.

"benedict" you sighed without inhibition. the sound of your voice sent him into a frenzy, his thrusts harder now and full-fledged. his sinful grunts, echoing across the room, came to a hot, explicit apex as he buried himself as deeply as possible inside of you.

he looked down at you dreamily, his eyes heavy with pleasure, running his thumb over your bottom lip. you pulled him down towards you, capturing his lips with yours. he chuckled against your mouth, causing you to pull away from him.

you playfully glared at him, “do you find something humorous, mr. bridgerton?”

he smiles down at you, biting his bottom lip before speaking. “i believe the remedies that i previously consumed still linger in my system.”

the two of you shared a laugh. "you are wonderful. i could never capture such an essence in any art form. you are transcendent," benedict said slowly, the pretense of his silly exterior falling away.

"i must confess, i find your present, inebriated state to be vastly more agreeable," you said with a smug smile, watching as he rolled his eyes at you.

"as do i," he retorted, chortling alongside you.

[reinersbigmilkers]

☕️ How the aot cast takes their caffeine ☕️

Includes: Eren, Mikasa, Armin, Jean, Connie, Sasha, Reiner, Annie, Bertolt, Marco, Historia, Ymir, Levi, Hange, Erwin, Pieck, Porco, Zeke

Eren: Pre-time skip, he does not fuck with the bitterness of coffee. Some tea is fine, so long as there's ample milk and sugar. He does discover that he's a fan of frappes when Armin decides to get one on a whim. And he'd definitely be weird about ordering a 'girly' drink, begging Mikasa to get it for him while trying not to make a scene. It's major "he asked for no pickles" energy between the two of them. (She'd still give him a hard time about it, regardless.) Post-time skip though, he doesn't gaf about ordering a frappe. He also doesn't really care where he gets his caffeine from. A 7/11 machine that probably hasn't been cleaned in three years? That's fine. Better yet, give him a Red Bull or a Monster since he's built such an insane tolerance. (He also has a preference for cold drinks)

Mikasa: Partial to tea, but she orders according to the weather: a London fog for a wintry day and a Vietnamese iced coffee during the summer. Oh, everyone wants to grab boba instead? A red bean matcha at 50% sweetness, no dairy, please. Mikasa also orders an affogato on occasion.

Armin: King of herbal teas, he sticks to decaffeinated drinks since he's caffeine sensitive. (He has soo many sleepy time tea boxes in his cabinet to help his insomnia.) He gets the jitters easily and doesn't care for how it can make his heart race. When he does crave caffeine, though, I could see him using a French press in order to steep it to his liking. Probably sweetens it with honey and adds a flew splashes of milk.

Jean: He's the snob of the group, but admittedly has good taste when it comes to espresso. Wdym you're getting a latte from that drive-thru barista stand?? Can't you tell that it's burnt and pulled all wrong? He'll walk out of a café if he hears the steam wand screaming: he's that particular. A cappuccino is his go-to from his favorite café and he uses a Moka pot at home.

Connie: I'm pretty sure with the last name 'Springer' he's ethnically Irish. But still, he looks soo much like a silver-toothed kid I can't view him as anything else lolol. So naturally he'd have an ice-cold Coke on deck, maybe some Jarritos in the fridge too. Connie doesn't drink coffee, and prefers sodas as a pick-me-up, especially Red Bull Italian sodas flavored with watermelon syrup.

Sasha: She's also not a coffee drinker and would rather sip on fruit teas. If they're lightly caffeinated with green or white tea leaves, she's fine with that, but doesn't like how black tea makes her lightheaded.

Reiner: He and Jean constantly butt heads on how coffee should be ordered, respectively lying on either end of the spectrum from the other. For Reiner, it's simple: add a few spoonfuls of grounds to the filter and brew. If he's feeling fancy, a plain latte will suffice. He doesn't understand how Jean can claim one shop's espresso is worse than any other's when it all tastes the same. Jean just loves to over-complicate everything, according to Reiner.

Bertolt: Finally, a based tea and coffee fan. He never gets weird about one form of caffeine being better than the other, and happily alternates between loose-leaf Earl Gray and his favorite medium roast. He just enjoys all the subtle aromas in coffee and tea, sipping his beverage as he watches Reiner and Jean debate about their drinks for the millionth time. He'll also order from the seasonal menu.

Annie: No frills no fuss, just black with a splash of half-and-half. She might whisk in some collagen powder if she's in a rush that day, just to help get some extra protein in.

Marco: Another frappe enjoyer, he's a Starbucks person lmfao. (he would NOT survive the sbx boycott) He's got the app on his phone and regularly orders a caramel frappuccino.

Historia: She's a big fan of matcha, like Mikasa, and also enjoys anything lavender flavored.

Ymir: Okay she's not quite the nonbinary barista in the black apron. But, she is the tatted-up and pierced lesbian behind the counter. Do not put her ass on the register because she will get into a yelling match with a customer over how impossible (and stupid) their drink is to make. During her fifteen she's out back, smoking and sipping on her iced oat milk latte, scrolling through twitter. (We know what you are, Ymir)

Levi: Surprisingly doesn't drink caffeine. He says he feels more 'even' without it, and has other vices like the occasional drink after a long day. He did have a phase with cold brew though.

Hange: Their go-to order is a simple chai latte, with the addition of a shot of espresso if they have a long night ahead of them. Hange's developed quite the discerning palate when it comes to their beloved chai and can tell when a joint is using pre-made syrup versus mulling the spices in-house. They're also lactose-intolerant and sticks with oat or coconut milk.

Erwin: Good god someone get this man a new coffee-maker. That thing is like old enough to vote, all the buttons are illegible, and it hasn't been descaled once in its miserable life. The poor thing's on 24/7, duct-taped to life support, and brewing up some of the strongest coffee known to man; the cracked carafe pouring its black sludge into Erwin's seasoned coffee mug. Yeah, he's that kind of person. He's been gifted plenty of new mugs, but always finds himself reaching for his unwashed tumbler that used to say "World's #1 Boss" fifty years ago.

Pieck: She prefers hot beverages year-round and loves rose flavored drinks. Pieck also enjoys a good loose-leaf English breakfast or orange-spiced black tea. She has a collection of fun animal-shaped tea infusers and prizes her Animal Crossing to-go mug.

Porco: Another no frills no fuss kind of guy, Porco keeps instant coffee stocked in his pantry and microwaves the water/milk he stirs it in.

Zeke: He's worse than a snob. He's picky. When Zeke pops into his local café, it's like the air shifts and everything suddenly goes quiet. Yeah, he'll have that shaken, not stirred, pulled as a double ristretto, blonde roast, frothed, never steamed, with room and double-sleeved. He recites his order so fucking fast too, the poor teenager at the counter helplessly stands there like they just got flashbanged. Oh, there's a rush going on? He hadn't noticed. But if he's on the go, he'll just grab a kombucha from his fridge.