#i❤️alaska

[rubyatarah]

F

FOOTPRINTS IN THE SNOW ARE SO CUTE

[bloomfish]

I enjoyed the fallout series. Then again I've always been somewhat of a casual fallout fan so if there was something fundamentally heretical about it I wouldn't be able to tell lol, I enjoyed it and I liked the various characters. Im just excited to see new vegas I miss her

[mummer]

i go back to the draft of juneauu you posted at the beginning of february and listen to it again like weekly. like it’s so good i love the lyrics and the emotions and the sound so so much

thank u :’’) i feel bad i kinda shelved that one because i have literally used that chord progression like 600 billion times and need to stop but the last verse in it is one of my faves i might rescue it and put it in another song……

[kneelingshadowsalome]

I have an odd request… perhaps a captain price fic where the reader is much younger and edgy- likeee covered in tats and stuff,, and price isn’t rly used to that but finds it hot as hell… idk maybe they work together ?? Smut ensues …

IDK I have tatts and wonder what he’d think of that 👹👹

Just an idea 💡❤️😫

Fire it Up (John Price x F!Reader)

Word count: 7.8 k

Tags/warnings: Smut 🔞 mutual pining, flirting, swearing, older man/younger woman dynamic, forbidden love, smoking & drinking, voice kink, a tiny brat taming kink squeezed itself in here too. Reader has tattoos and works as a coder at the base. Rough ~10yrs age gap described, reader is of age I hope to god it goes without saying (Price is canonically 37) Also: no use of 'daddy' in this fic

A/N: I'm so glad for this request anon and I hope you like what I made! Also people please be gentle, this is my first Price fic 🥹 God I wish I could attach the fat scent of cigar here to give you the full experience. 

You don't know what caught your attention first.

The cigar, perhaps. Or the beard? Might be his hips, the ass that tells you this man can fuck a woman for hours.

Or maybe it's the fact that he's too old for you.

No, not too old…

Just older than you. A decade, perhaps, if you were being gentle with him and lenient with yourself.

He certainly isn't old enough to be your father, but he wasn't the type of man your eyes usually drifted on either.

He looks like someone who's supposed to be fishing in Alaska, sucking that fat cigar while taking in the view of mountains while trying to catch wild fish in some wide, free stream. 

He's supposed to come home to a remote cabin: to his little wife who pours him a scotch after he has shown her what he caught today. Make sweet love to her while stars shoot and speckle the indigo night.

He looks like someone who makes love to women.

You, on the other hand, want to ride with him to the sunset on the back of a Harley, clutch his jacket as he drives you to some bizarre highway motel. You want to watch him drink that scotch from your navel. 

You'd do all kinds of crazy shit with him, keep his head between your legs with both hands, grind all over that mustache, and see how wet it gets. You want him to pound you with those narrow hips, take you from behind while you look back with parted, swollen lips and relish the sight of what must be a grown man's hardened body, covered with hair and scars and–

"The bug's still there."

You return to reality, look at the code on your screen, and then at your colleague, a 20-something bloke who looks at you with the lethargic stare that only belongs to techies. You've just been caught daydreaming your eyes off in the middle of a lazy afternoon. Coffee doesn't do shit after 2 PM…

"Yeah I know. I'm working on it," you say. But when the dude leaves, you decide it's time for a creative break. You tell yourself it's only because the code jumps on the screen, not because you hope to catch a certain someone smoking outside. 

The leather jacket is a little too much these days, but you throw it on out of pure habit. You realize the weight of your mistake when you go outside from the ventilated building and notice the sweltering heat. Spring has finally turned into summer.

Coffee doesn’t do shit, but it’s time for another kind of wakey-wakey. And butterflies are a funny term for something that mainly feels like it’s eating your insides out of pure excitement. 

Because he's here too.

Jonathan Price, although no one calls him Jonathan. Few call him John, either. 

Mostly, he goes by the title Captain.

He's stressed; you can tell. But his eyes soften immediately when they fall on you, a brief look to the side, just to know who else comes out to have a breath of fresh air or a smoke. He looks like he's been expecting you, but that might only be a silly girl's daydream. You two share a vice, and you've never been more grateful for your bad habit before this place and him.

And you wouldn't call it necessarily a bad habit. It's simply stress relief if you do it once or twice every few weeks. It's not like you smoke two packs a day. It's not like you even smoke one cig per day. 

Although ever since you started this odd little job in this odd little place, you've smoked one or two nearly every day… And it's not because of the stress.

It's because of Price. 

John. You’d like to see his reaction to you moaning that word in his ear…

"How long have you been here?"

His eyes are still on you, mouth covered by a hand as he makes love to his cigar. And that bedroom voice always gets you. It's better than the upcoming slow drag of nicotine. You're not here for tobacco at all.

"Two weeks." You reach for your excuse and try to prevent your hands from trembling as you light the cig. Usually, you're not this shy with people. Not with men, anyway. But with him, your wits and words disappear. 

You blow the smoke through the air with a quick, lively wisp where he lets it roll out his tongue in a heavy cloud. He's still watching you as if to weigh what kind of woman you are exactly.

"How about you?" You continue the small talk with nervous ease.

He chuckles; the little smile even shows a flash of teeth as he steals a look at the clouds, calculating years with those surprisingly lively eyebrows curled up toward the sky.

"Ages."

He's not that old. Perhaps well over his thirties, might be knocking his forties. The statement is merely an underline of his stress today. You can only wonder what kind of pressure the captain of Task Force 141 is under when you get sleepless nights from a stupid source code. There are a few wrinkles around his eyes, but they only tell you that this man smiles a lot. He might be the only one in this compound who smiles a lot.

"Have you ever tried a cigar?"

There's a glint in his eyes as he offers the thick roll of tobacco to you. It's suddenly difficult to breathe, difficult to even keep your thoughts together.

"No," you shake your head as if your answer wasn't enough to tell him he's the first person ever to offer you such a thing. Then you realize the word does not precisely deliver your eagerness to try that stout cigar.

"Would love to," you hurry to add with a soft smile. "Can I have a taste?"

He walks to you slowly, and your eyes drop to those hips, which sway like he's purposely trying to seduce you.

Fu–ck…

Then your eyes sink even lower, between his legs, to his fucking junk, and it's too fucking late–

Jesus–get your shit together…

You force your eyes back to his and see the little glimmer in them gain a surprised spark – you're totally caught red-handed on checking him out.

Fuck. How can you be so stu–

"Gently then, kid."

You swallow your heart and thoughts down and take the offered cigar; of course, your first thought is how thick and heavy it is. And somehow, you decide right then and there that you will no longer be the nervous, hot-cheeked woman on the corner.

It's time to make him flustered.

So you take a hollow-cheeked, slow suck on the fat cigar. A chaste, savory taste, more like, but there's nothing chaste in the way you raise your eyes to his, putting every ounce of soft seduction in that stare.

He draws breath slowly – his face is full of expression for an allegedly cold-hearted elite soldier. You don't know how often women flirt with this hunk of a man, but he sure looks taken aback by your sudden play. Probably thinks you're too young for him – and you curse the second time you put that jacket on. You want to see his reaction to your sleeves.

"Mm. It's thicker than I thought," you weigh the cigar between your fingertips and let the smoke roll out your mouth. The man switches his weight from one foot to another, speechless, and you suppress a big beam of a smile.

"The taste," you emphasize as if innocent, as if you didn't see that shocked little shift. "Round, and… god, it's almost sweet."

You smile as you give it back, and he chuffs an approving laugh through his nose – those eyes are bear-warm playful now, his mouth curves into an easy smile.

"Nice," you look him up and down as if you're talking about the man and not the cigar.

"Beats those little sticks." 

His voice drops down a few notes; it's almost a husky growl. You barely make out the words he's saying. The tension in the air could form little balls of lightning around you, the flirt is over the roof, and there's even no roof because you're outside – and you take your jacket off, slowly, to make it clear it's summer and not spring.

His eyes fall on the ink immediately, and he blinks a few times, draws some more breath – you tweet your thanks accompanied by another smile and go back inside.

You know he's checking your ass in those black jeans as you walk away.

….....

It doesn't end there.

You see him again and again and again, and at some point you realize he has to walk almost 100 meters from the other end of the base to get to the little corner where the two of you smoke. 

He's intrigued but decent. Holds a distance, never says anything that could be taken in the wrong way – or even in the right way. But he's fucking you with his eyes. 

No… making love to you.

And it drives you crazy.

You don't want that. You don't need that. To be that little wife in the cabin. Pouring him a drink, climbing in his lap, ghosting a finger down the stubble on his chin, see how wide and proud it makes him smile to hold you like you're his and his alone...

God. When did it come to this?

You suck on his fat cigar every now and then. Look him in the eyes while you do it. Once, it makes his tongue dart out, it wets his bottom lip, and then he does that thing with his mouth... the thing where he kind of purses his lips and it makes the mustache dip, and you realize, you learn it's a sign that he's restless, he's flustered.

You make the big, burly captain of Task Force 141 flustered.

And he doesn't smell like the people inside smell. Of stale coder sweat and Joy Division and soft drinks and mommy's home-cooked meals. He smells of rich forest and fine bourbon and half-burnt gasoline. Maybe Saxon on vinyl. Definitely beats those little sticks that are your nerdy co-workers at the hacker department, as you call it.

He may have a flask somewhere; perhaps he takes a sip or two every now and then, whether at work or not. And you don't blame him. Even with those laugh lines and that brown bear benevolence, you can tell he's seen things. 

You wonder what he's like out there in the field. Brutal? Or just efficient?

He never asks about your tattoos, but he eyes them often. There's a certain admiring esteem in his stare. He's checking you out, scratches his chin, and rips his eyes off when they start to drift down. He forces his eyes to stay above your neckline no matter the cost. You mourn that you got rid of the septum a few years ago: you're pretty sure he would've liked that, too. After all, it's a piercing that screams 'warrior' the most. Break after break, you return to your desk, aroused and giddy and surrounded by the rich, masculine aroma of his cigar.

One night, he drives by when you're walking home after what was supposed to be one or two pints.

The car is a big, black pick-up, and when it slows down and starts to inch by your side, your first reaction is a silent curse of why the fuck don't you carry some pepper spray in your pocket.

"Hey, you ok?"

Your head rises from the asphalt the second you recognize that smooth, pleasant voice of a man you had compared every guy to at the pub that evening. The whole man is brimming with burnt sienna, he's hard alcohol with no ice…

You stop and turn, a little wobbly from the pint turned to two or three. Or four.

"Yeah. Had a little girl's night out."

The car rumbles softly, not two meters away, and the sound reminds you of his voice. A soft purr that can turn into a growl, even a roar if he wants to. 

He looks like he's going fishing, even without the boonie hat. The dark hair is cut short, so you won't have anything to tug if he ever ends up between your legs. But you don't really mourn that fact, because he looks so damn good.

He looks you up and down, and you notice the briefest blob of his Adam's apple before he gives you another offer.

"Want me to give you a ride?"

Would love a ride.

Would fucking love to ride you.

"Sure. That's kind of you." 

Your eyes must be sparkling like the fucking stars.

"No problem at all," he leans his elbow on the open window and waits while you round the car and get in. You try to tone down your drunken state, but your moves are a little too brash for a calm and collected coder lady this man has usually caught leaning against the wall of the workplace you two share.

"Did you have fun?"

He sounds like a dad picking up his girl from a school disco, and you purse your lips in slight distaste and amusement.

"Yeah. You know how it is when someone asks you for a pint."

He gives a short laugh and starts to drive. "That never ends well."

You smile and turn to look at him.

"Mm… This one kinda did."

You enjoy the brief look out the window, the sight of someone so formidable and robust and experienced trying to find his way out by feigning something caught his attention in the black, empty distance of a quiet city.

"Glad I could be of service," he brushes off your flirt like it's nothing more than a speckle of dust on his coat.

The rest of the ride is silent, too silent. He turns the music off in case it "bothers you," and it turns into an awkward, overly polite fight about whether to keep it on or not. 

It's a minor shock to notice he was listening to some classical. Not 80's rock, not country, not even BBC. He was just soothing his nerves.

You can't put your finger on what makes you feel so sheepish around this man – usually, you put men on a leash with a few dry jokes and a hearty laugh or two. Now, your flirting is shy and does nothing: there's a wall built up, and from behind that wall, only a few stolen looks…

The pick-up is humming, the engine is running at idle next to your place far too soon, and it's time you get off the car – but you have vehemently decided you will knock down that fucking wall even if you have to drag him to your bed. 

"You wanna come up and have a nightcap?"

Another look out the window as he raises his hand over his mouth, fiddles with his mustache, and avoids the rising heat between you two.

"Thanks, kid. But you need to sleep."

Your heart is pumping, and you feel like a harasser as you place your hand on his thigh.

He doesn't move, but you can hear the audible swallow this time. He doesn't move a single finger even when you slide your palm down that leg, then drag it over to the inner thigh, and start to drift back up slowly, slowly, to give him the time and space to stop you before you reach….

….the visible bulge between those legs, the absolutely gorgeous, ample bump pulling at those pants, something so delicious that you must fight tooth and nail not to race your hand up there and give it a fond grope.

His hand falls over yours just before you reach it.

"Kid. Let's leave it here and call it a night."

His voice is strained and tight, and he's still looking out the window. You don't move your hand away because he doesn't move it away. His warmth stays there, keeping you against him, and you feel like shit for thinking it's not a no… That it's a yes when he seems to hold your hand as a prisoner, wanting to feel your dainty little palm against him.

Your fingers curl slightly, a hopeful gesture to imagine how it would feel to curl and claw at his hips and that ass while he's fucking you.

"Listen. You're a nice girl. A very nice–"

You give a heavy, demonstrative sigh and finally draw your hand away.

"Come on Cap… You're seriously going to give me the "you're a nice girl" talk?"

Finally, he turns. His nostrils quiver as he tries to keep his breaths calm. Your lips part like it's a whole caress he just gave you – and his gaze drops to your mouth instantly. You start to see where the problem is.

You're too young. 

You're forbidden.

"I offered you a nightcap," you tilt your head slightly. "You can come up or you can go home."

You wet your lips, give the bottom lip a tiny little bite, and offer him the last, inviting, soft smile. It must hold an equal amount of sorrow because you can't drown the bitter feeling of rejection, no matter how many drinks you've had that night. No matter how much he seems to want you, it doesn't change the fact that he's apparently decided to stay strong and keep his hands off the cookie jar.

You turn and get out of the car, lean on the door for the final fucking time...

"Didn't know I'd only get to suck your cigar... You're all smoke and no fire, Price."

The door flies closed with a louder slam than you originally meant. 

Now that was a little bit passive-aggressive, you have to admit. But you're drunk, and he's being a pain in the ass, calling you a kid, looking at you like that, having a fucking hard-on and giving you nothing.

…But it does the trick. 

You smile like an idiot when you walk to your place and hear the purr of the engine stop. Another car door opens, then closes, wide footsteps follow you…

A nightcap it is, then.

He looks even bigger when inside a place with walls and a roof. He stands inside your apartment tall and wide as if he's waiting to call attention. Those large hands are over his crotch, concealing the swell of erection you already saw in the car. 

You know the tank top you wear reveals even more skin covered in tats as you throw your jacket away and go get him that drink. The glasses glide on your table, slide nearly to the floor, and the bottle of Jim Beam meets the counter with a devastating clank. You look at the excuse to get him into your place and sigh. 

"You know what… Fuck this."

Offering cheap bourbon to someone like him seems a bit ridiculous. So you offer him something he might actually like. Something he actually came here for. 

You walk to him and throw your hands around him – he stiffens from the middle but looks down at you with a heated glimmer in those eyes. You could've sworn they were charred brown, the same color as his cigar, but up close you see they're actually molten iron. Mercurial.

"You sure about this?" He asks softly.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

He unclasps those hands from over his groin, and the warmest weight falls to rest on your waist, even steals a caress to your hip. You want to hurl yourself at him, press yourself against his crotch and grind until you bleed from just that tiny touch he finally gives you.

"You've had one too many, love."

Love…

Shit.

The warmth spreads from his eyes, from that hand, from the word that rolls out of his mouth like a beautiful puff of smoke. It unfurls inside your heart, swells inside your throat, plummets to your groin, and you switch the weight to your other leg to feel how that hand gains more weight as it gets pressed more firmly against you.

"Doesn't change the fact that I want you."

Your voice is nothing short of a purr. When have you ever purred like that to a man? You sound like a housecat, tame and adoring, waiting for a gourmet meal.

"You really want an old man?"

He still has that reserve in his eyes, decent and distant, but underneath, you sense a terrible heat, like the glow of a cigar lit in darkness, an adamant smolder that never dies out.

"You're not that old." 

Your purr turns into a deprived meow. You dangle from his neck, and the smoke, the fire that surrounds him, blends into the gentle scent of a man, the musk of a mature beast. You know he's hairy under those clothes; he fucking has to be. The vision of how his cock must look, surrounded by untame, coarse fur, has tormented you night after night.

And now he's finally here. In your apartment.

You skate your hands over his chest while slowly dropping into a squat, then languidly kneeling in front of his crotch.

He doesn't stop you, not even when you open his belt and the zipper and crawl your fingers down the waistband of his underwear. You have to stifle a delighted gasp upon seeing how his cock springs free and stands proud in front of you in all its glory. And fuck yes he's hairy – the hairiest man you've ever had. 

Cigars feel like tiny little sticks when you wrap one hand around him and lick the weeping slit like it's your favorite ice cream. The groan that follows is a husky eruption above you and gets stuck in his throat as you take him in your mouth.

"Fucking hell, kid…"

He's thick, broad, and the musk fills your nostrils, but what he just said makes you pull back and whisper on the bulbous tip–

"Don't call me a kid," you breathe on his cock, swirl your tongue around him, and his thighs bunch. "Old man."

You finally manage to push some buttons.

The back of his hand brushes your cheek, then slides over to your throat. He's gentle but firm as he forces a thumb under your chin, curls fingers around your neck as if you're a cat who's about to be force-fed some medicine that's only good for her.

"Is that how you wanna play it?"

His thumb brushes down the ridge of your throat. Tentative, promising.

"Perhaps," your lips quiver with anticipation as you smile; your voice is a pitched vibrato before it drops, just to give him a reason to put you in your place... "Old gum–"

The hand pulls up, the grip tightens just enough to guide you back to your feet and up to meet his face.

"Didn't know you asked me here to tame a brat."

Fuck…

You almost moan. 

The hand doesn't choke you; it makes love to you. Claims you as his. 

"Really…?" You sigh. Flash him a filthy, guiltless smile.

The fire surges forth and nearly buckles your knees. His eyes flash in rhythm with your grin, like a sudden flicker of a campfire in the middle of a dark, parched forest.

"This what you want? Hmm?"

The rumble reminds you of the engine of a Harley roaring to life. His throat is burned from the fire of his cigars, the hand on your throat is used to squeezing dead metal and pulling pins from frigid grenades. But even they can't stand a chance against his woodland fire and sycamore smoke. He could bring a cold, inanimate rock back to life with all that fire.

"Yes. I want it. John."

His name on your tongue is a cat's meow. It has the exact effect you hoped for.

"Let's get the brat tamed, then."

"Hah," you finally moan. "Promises, prom–"

The fingers around your throat pull you to his mouth with a python strength. His lips spread yours with soft devouring as he coats you in fire. The coarse beard smells of sweet tobacco – nothing like a pungent cigarette. It's like an old memory: safe and sturdy and strong. Male.

You moan in his mouth – god, what will it be like when he's inside you? – and he capes both arms around you and crushes you against him. Broad shoulders envelop you like a shroud of thick smoke, the cock gets trapped between you like a hot spear, and you mewl like a slut.

Your pussy clenches, just from his warm mouth, the rich velvet of his lips. He takes everything with that kiss, and you're weak in his arms as he bends and molds you against him just the way he wants, opens your mouth with his own and breathes you, samples you like those puffs of smoke he sucks from his cigar.

Your brain short-circuits, you barely notice how your top slides up as his hands go under it. It's dragged up, up, over your breasts and then over your head as he detaches just enough to rip that piece of clothing away. 

You look at him like he's Christmas, then reach for your bra while he opens his pants more to get them down. Your jeans are accursedly tight, and he's breathless, too: the whole room is dark and filled with heavy breathing and rustle of clothes as you claw your socks off, slide your strings down and away, watch him get out of his shirt and throw it on the floor too, all propriety gone.

And then…

Jesusfuck–

He picks you up, lifts you from the ground like you're nothing but a leaf, and strides with you in his lap until your back meets a wall.

The barrel-like chest presses the air out of your lungs while your back travels up – you don't know if his arms or chest do the lifting, but you're being positioned for his cock to enter. Your hands try to grasp something solid before it's too late – his back and neck – your legs wrap around him, feet hooking over his ass as the thick of his tip pokes your soaked folds, and after a few seconds of probing, slides in. 

"F–uck…" you gasp, sounding so needy that it could be a voiceline from a bad porno movie. His lips find the place between your ear and neck immediately.

"Be good for me now," he gruffs, dark and round like the sweetest bourbon, although you know he's the finest single malt in the world. "Be good…"

"Ah–John…"

I'll be good… 

Just for you, I'll be so, so good.

He pants heavy on your neck, grunts as he starts to fuck you against that wall. You knew he might be intense, but apparently, you had no idea. The man is needy as fuck, and has concealed it up until this point. 

You could cry, scream from joy from the thickness that spreads you, fills you with every fat glide of a thrust. The sex borders on rough but is so incredibly tender too, so needy it makes your heart collapse, compress into a taut knot in your chest. It's the softest rocking, the gentlest fucking as he retreats, then ruts into you again and again with sharp, rusty moans. You're in a slow but steady rodeo with this man, your breasts pressed against a solid chest covered with hair, and it tickles, even if his pecs threaten to crush your ribcage.

"You're one hell of a girl," he gruffs in your ear, beard grazing up and down your neck. "Taking me so– Fucking hell, look at you…"

His eyes are embers as they sweep over you: your abundant ink, the helpless, adoring look in your eyes, the little mouth that opens with a gasp, the trickle of sweat that forms between your breasts and meets the hair on his chest. 

He doesn't have to look down to see how greedy your cunt is for him. He can feel it.

"This is what you wanted the whole time? Huh?"

He's all smoke. All fire.

"Yes…"

"Wanted me to take you against a fucking wall? Eh?"

"Yes…just, just take me," you moan and purr some more, giving him everything he wants. "Fuh–fuck me good…"

"Ahh shit..."

You know you're a drug to certain decent men. But to him, you're a forbidden fruit in all its aspects. 

A calm, collected captain who enjoys wide respect, eyeing an edgy, younger woman from the tech department? That's not how this was supposed to go. Thirsting for someone who did what they wanted, looked just the way they wanted, walked this earth like a dark fairy – that's not his usual go, surely. He was supposed to settle down with a proper lady. If he were to settle down at all.

"I've dreamed of this," you whisper in his ear, lips moving just enough to deliver your secret to him.

"Yeah..? Me too," he gives your throat more love with a velvet growl. "Know I shouldn't, but–"

"Shh. Don't–don't…" You grip him tighter, taste the spruce and salt as you breathe his neck. "It's good. It's all good."

He rumbles in approval. Your skin is raw from his beard; even the coarse hair dusting his thighs feels too rough on your skin. And your skin is used to being needled, shot full of ink right inside the dermis. But this… This is branding.

You're silk in his rough embrace, and plundered with no remorse. You sigh and moan, hug him... And then he dares to stop, panting and throbbing inside you.

"Darlin'. Where's the bed?"

The soft question makes you panic. If you go to bed and let him push inside you while you're lying on your back, if you brave a look into those eyes while he takes you, you'll develop more than just a horrid lust for this man. If he collapses on top of you, spent and spoiled while you're at your most vulnerable, you'll tie a string from your heart to his, and you can't, you just can't allow that to happen.

Because he's untamed too. He's not a man who settles down, he's not up for domestication; he's a wandering fire.

"No–no bed," you pant on his muscles, the shoulder that keeps you safely pinned on the wall. "John…? Please."

He's breathing wild too, disguises his surprise well.

"Alright."

He sounds disappointed, and it's not because he doesn't have the strength to maul you against that wall. The rejection stings him too. It makes you want to offer a truce, a little something. When he rocks you again, you graze your fingers up the back of his neck, knowing he will feel ripples across his scalp from your caress.

"We can smoke a cigar after," you propose, not knowing why your voice still comes out as an airy whisper. "Together. I'll pour you that drink…"

His chest swells with a deep breath, he huffs fire on the hollow trench between your collarbones.

"Fuck, woman…" 

It's dense syrup that surrounds you much like those shoulders and arms, that coarse hair, that bold male want.

"And after that I want you to…" You catch your breath and sound like a mouse with your next shy question. "Would you go down on me, John?"

It's like you're under a bear attack, but he stills; his head tilts a little to the side and meets your temple. 

"You wouldn't tease a man like this," he says. A soft warning, brimstone coated in velour, but the core of it is despair. So much need, so much forbidden, distant want… 

"Right? No more teasing."

He's still thinking that you're teasing him… That it's some kind of a joke that you want him.

"I'm serious... I want your mouth on me. I need your–"

"I'll put my mouth on you as soon as we're done here, love."

You have to bite your lips, suck them between your teeth to prevent another deprived moan from escaping.

"Want you to fuck me all night," you continue to whisper on his neck. You should shut the fuck up because it doesn't take a bed to tie that string from your heart to his. After all, they're right there, beating against each other through bone and skin and chest.

"Yeah? That's what you want?"

"Want you to… F-fuck me slow and good from behind and–"

You sniff. Whimper.

You should be ashamed: mewling for more when he's already buried inside you. What kind of a brat are you, wrapping your thighs around that narrow waist like you never want him to pull out?

And you're not crying. 

It's just that the cock inside you is throbbing against your walls as if he's making a home there, his hands dig into your ass cheeks like you're his already, the breath upon your sweat and skin feels far too affectionate. When exactly did a raw wall-fuck turn into such an affectionate, gentle taste of love?

And it's not enough. You want to climb on top of him every morning, ride him slowly and watch him unravel as the sun climbs the sky and coats that fur in gold.

"Could you do that? Please… John, please," you whimper and whine, beg like you're tame already. 

"I'll fuck you all night if that's what you want. Fill this pretty, tight cunt up every way you like."

It's coarse smoke. It caresses you until your legs start to shake. He adjusts his grip, drags the pull-outs like he drags those pulls from his tobacco. Keeps you nicely in place for him to drive back in–

"I'll fuck you 'till you cry, love. Yeah?"

He punctuates that promise with another good, fat thrust. You moan all tame now – a rippling stream, laughing and crying in his molten hold.

His cock fills you while your thighs quiver and tremble in his hands. Your pussy throbs; it sucks him already, the orgasm is seconds away, and your fingertips search for support but only slip over sweaty, hard muscle.

John. John.

"Fuh-…"

He spreads you a little. Those arms are pure iron as they mold you for him to plow. You know he can feel the waves, the way your cunt grips him with longer, deeper pulls as you start to sound downright pathetic.

"Just like that, just like… hah…"

"M-hm. Yeah," he bends the vowels, daubs them with smoke. "That's it. You're doing good. Doing so well my love."

He huffs between the thrusts that have turned into slow, intense love-making. He's making love to you – god, why does he have to be like this…

"Cum for me. Nice and pretty, yeah? Come on."

He encourages you with words, but you can't hear them anymore.

Heat coils in the pit of your core just before you burst with a heady scream.

The spasm is so sudden you almost hit your head on the wall. He's at your throat the minute it's exposed, and your scream turns into a weak wail when his tongue grazes your skin. It's blazing, and dips into the hollow between your collarbones like it's a shot glass full of scotch. Next thing you feel is fire, even some teeth on your neck.

And you thought Price might, just might be intense…

Your head drops as the blunt of the orgasm leaves you. Your feet unclasp, and next up would be some soft waves, but the man continues to fuck your shattered cunt and marshmallow soul with a good, intense pace. The words that pour out of your mouth are those of a brainless person.

"Ah–hah, God–"

"Where's that cheek now, mm..? Pretty little thing."

"John–h…"

The thrusts rub you against that wall like he wants to staple you there.

"So nice and good for me now, ain't ya? Cummin' on command…" An amused chuff right on your poor, chafed skin… "Begging for my mouth and cock."

You travel up and down in a limp heap, trying to hold on to him with weak limbs as he drives into you with a tight series of half-thrusts. Your legs hang loosely on the side, but he has no trouble carrying the full weight of you.

"Slow–slowly, Cap…" 

"Ahh fuck–"

He swears on your ink, right on the trotting pulse on your neck. Through the vapor of man sweat and rich smoke and a whiff of cedar trees bending in the wind, you feel him tense and thicken.

"The fucking things you do to me…" he pants with a low growl, hushed but intense. Your pussy answers with a good, demanding pull. 

"Fuck… fuck–!"

You're a limp doll between him and the wall when he comes. Pressed between a rock and a hard place, literally. His chest being the rock, an entire boulder that whips the oxygen from your lungs as he drives deep, his balls giving a few taut pulls against your ass as he empties himself into you with a satisfied, dry moan. A dark, ripe blossom, shooting straight to your core while you're sealed tight around him.

The world goes still after that; the only thing that moves is your breath and his, a refreshing hot breeze coursing through the stale air. The darkness of the room isn't half as snug as the safety of his arms.

Your fingers find his neck, the short-cut hair and the skin pounding with a rush of blood. He lets you go reluctantly, bends a little to set your feet back to the solid ground. He doesn't pull out, keeps huffing all over you even when you're returned back to the earth. 

And you never want to come back. Your cunt still throbs around him and cries a tiny, thick stream down your thigh. His upper body still pins you against that wall, his breaths still mist your skin, caress the red burns of his beard.

He feels so good. Too good…

When he pulls out, he does so with intense care. He gives you some space to catch your breath, and you finally notice he has fucked your legs into splinters.

"I'm…" You break the hush of heavy breathing with a soft laugh. More viscous load pushes out of you with it. "I don't think I can stand."

"Yeah? Tried to take you to bed," he muses softly, sounding annoyingly content with his achievements.

"Gotta admit it was a good idea."

"As was the nightcap," he rasps, voice drenched in soft smoke.

"We'll get there eventually."

"I have no doubt about that."

You give him a soft, warm chuckle as you cast your eyes between the crest of his pecs. Rough, tight muscle meets your soft breasts with heaving breaths, and teases your nipples to taut little points. The wet hair on his chest looks good paired with your inked, smooth skin… You two look so goddamn fine together.

"I hope I didn't make you deaf with that scream."

He stands at his full height, but tilts his head down and slightly to the side as if you were a new, interesting species he's just found on his travels.

"Wouldn't complain, love," he says. More wet syrup, just for you. He weighs you with his stare, curious and appeased, and you feel shy. For fuck's sake, you still feel shy even though this man was inside you just a moment ago. 

"The bed. Now be a good girl and tell me where it is."

"Down the…hallway." 

A delicate little whisper, again.

It's laughable, how the veteran of Task Force 141 turns you into something so dainty and meek. Captain John Price takes you against a wall like you're nothing but a doll, makes you purr and beg, reassembles you into a weak-willed woman who gets carried to bed. 

This is not how it was supposed to go...

He lifts you back in his lap while you continue to hold onto him like he's your prince Charming. A laugh spills on your lips when he tries to lay you gently on the bed and you manage to pull him down with you. You end up tumbling there in a sweaty, messy heap. 

"Knew you were trouble," he's smiling too as he settles beside you. You curl and wrap yourself around him, your bodies mold and curve together like they're made for each other.

He's so solid, so warm, the kind of man you'd love to fall asleep on every night. No more cold sides of the pillow, no more tossing and turning and trying to get the code out of your head. Just… this chest, those ember eyes burning in the night. Some soft breathing, a roaring engine standing still, waiting for you, just for you…

"I hope this wasn't a one time only occasion," you test the waters.

"No." He shifts a little, disentangles from you slightly. "Unless you–"

"No."

You bend in his arms like a young willow, cut his doubts off with a kiss. It's passionate, and so sloppy it threatens to make the same sounds as your cunt and his cock a while ago.

The hand on your hip tows you closer, then steals its way down your leg. You hike your thigh up, perfectly willing. You're a sticky mess, but so is he: his rock-hard thigh meets your still soaked pussy like these two have always belonged together. And this man's full fire has escaped you until now. There are so many hidden, wild things in him too. 

He would look so good on a Harley… He would look good on a motel bed after riding for days and days with you attached to him like an eloped dark bride. The nights would be smeared with hot sex and cinder and smoke, a dash of scotch on top, he could drink it from your lips. You would serve it to him from your mouth, round the taste a bit so that it wouldn't burn so much…

"Have you ever been to Alaska?" 

The liquor is leaving you, but you don't feel any more sober. The lava in your veins has only been replaced by another kind of fire.

"No."

"Would you like to go?"

"What'ya mean," he murmurs on your tongue, and you know he's hard again just from the thick lust coating his voice. "What kind of question is that?"

"I was just thinking."

"What were you thinkin', kid..?"

"Don't… call me that," you laugh. In truth, you're growing quite fond of it. It reminds you of old movies. "Here's looking at you, kid" and all that.

His laugh is a charred roll in his chest. To him, you're a brat – an unruly kitten – no matter what you say. 

"Kid. Why Alaska?"

He's curious. Borderline hooked. You steal a peek into those vulcan eyes. 

"You'd look good in Alaska. Old man."

"Really," he rumbles a soft purr against your heart. 

Another soft kiss follows. Affectionate… He plays time, but he's also a probing, scanning. You bloom in his embrace, unfurl on his lips like he just wrenched you wide. He could haul you to the cabin right now and you would only cook him dinner.

It's too late, even if you try to shift after such a kiss. Escape to press your cheek against that place between his pecs, the spot where the hair is darkest and thickest. You want to lick that valley where his heart meets his musk. That scent must be born from a good, stout heart.

"Would you take me with you…? If you ever decide to go."

It's a fragile question. A baring of the heart. It holds so much more than an inquiry about whether he would whisk you away on a secret leave. It's strings, pulling from your heart to his, taking root.

"Sure. But you're quite a handful, love."

"Is that so…?" 

You crawl over him as gracefully as you can. He allows you to straddle him, and of course he does. You're no threat; you're only a one woman show. The only thing he's probably missing right now is a glass of scotch and a thick roll of tobacco. 

He takes in the view with hunger: not satiated by that pent-up fuck, just like you're not... 

But then his hands come to rest on your thighs to check if they're still shaking. The touch bleeds possessiveness: it's a thoroughly absent-minded, instinctual attempt to reach for you. It tells you you're exactly where you belong. 

"You seem like the kind of woman who's not for the faint of heart," he says like you didn't just mewl in his arms like the tamest fucking housecat.

And perhaps that's what intrigues him. Contrasts. And even more than that, the odd place where black fuses into white, the gray area where everything is possible. The split-second moment when the skin accepts the ink and traps it in. 

Everyone always says you get buried with your tattoos. That you should think twice before staining your skin with such permanent hookups.

But the thing is, you get addicted to it. It's like standing on the edge of a cliff before a bungee jump. You know you'll never be the same person after you jump, and you know you can't leave that cliff without jumping. It's a stalemate until you clear your mind of doubt and just plunge.

And you don't want to leave this earth without getting stained and sweaty, without dipping your soul into the full experience. You're supposed to get a little dirty. This is Earth, after all.

Your fingers disappear somewhere in his slick fur. Sunrise is hours away, but his eyes spark aflame. They're always, always smoldering like the butt of his cigar. He's a man who causes wildfires at the end of the world – he's a reckoning, a flicker in the dark forest, roaring into a bonfire as soon as the wind passes through the trees.

And you've always loved fire. Wild, and free. The only thing that competes with such freedom is a wide, wild stream. 

"But you can handle me. Right?" Your fingers curl softly around the hair surrounding his navel. "Tame me and everything?" 

It's an offering that causes even fire to tilt its head in curiosity. In the end, you're not sure who tamed who.

"Someone has to," he grabs your hips with rich promise. 

You'll pour him that drink. Light him a cigar after his mouth is full of your taste, see how well it pairs with fire and smoke. You'll toast to the Harley, the crazy motel… 

And Alaska. 

[afeelgoodblog]

The Best News of Last Week - September 11, 2023

Sorry for not sending last week's issue as I got covid again :/ I passed it, so here's the best things that happened last week :)

1. The IRS plans to crack down on 1,600 millionaires to collect millions of dollars in back taxes

The IRS announced on Friday it is launching an effort to aggressively pursue 1,600 millionaires and 75 large business partnerships that owe hundreds of millions of dollars in past due taxes. The newly announced tax collection effort will begin as soon as October. “We have more hiring to do,” Werfel said. “It’s going to be a very busy fall for us.”

2. The NGO African Parks announced it would purchase the world’s largest population of privately owned white rhinos

Africa’s beleaguered rhinos have been thrown a significant lifeline with the announcement that nearly 2,000 semi-wild rhinos owned by South African rhino breeder John Hume will be “rewilded” into reserves across South Africa and other parts of the continent over the next 10 years.

3. Mexico supreme court decriminalizes abortion across country

Mexico’s supreme court has unanimously ruled that state laws prohibiting abortion are unconstitutional and violate women’s rights, in the latest in a series of victories for reproductive rights activists across Latin America.

Wednesday’s ruling came two years after the court ordered the northern state of Coahuila to remove sanctions for abortion from its criminal code, a decision which prompted a tortuous state-by-state process of legal battles. So far 12 of Mexico’s 31 states have decriminalized the procedure.

4. The first human organ created inside an animal opens the door to manufacturing ‘spare parts’ for people

It is a historic image. A team of researchers in China has successfully generated a blueprint of a human organ in another animal for the first time. The experiment, conducted with humanized kidneys in pig embryos, represents a step toward the still-distant dream of using other mammals as source of organs for transplants.

5. Study Shows a Single Dose of Psilocybin's Astonishing Impact on Depression and Could Change Medical Treatments of Mental Health Forever

Psychedelics are making a comeback, and this time, they're dressed in the respectable garb of clinical research. Recent studies have reignited interest in these substances, particularly psilocybin, the active compound in magic mushrooms, as a potent treatment for major depressive disorder (MDD).

6. Missing cat reunited with owner after it disappeared during Alaska flooding

Twenty-six days after he went missing, an adorable black and white cat named Leo has been reunited with his family. Brave Leo went missing after historic glacial flooding swept away his home and all his owner's belongings.

7. Dogs perform Mozart with orchestra in Denmark

A classical music festival in Copenhagen, Denmark, has opened with some canine additions to the orchestra.

---

That's it for this week :)

This newsletter will always be free. If you liked this post you can support me with a small kofi donation here:

Buy me a coffee ❤️

Also don’t forget to reblog this post with your friends.

[babydollmarauders]

2 YEARS — MEDIA MANAGEMENT: SUMMER EDITION

notes: i originally planned this to be longer, but i have a headache the size of alaska and i wanted this to be out before midnight

y/ndevils00

liked by jackhughes, trevorzegras, and 22,648 others

y/ndevils00 happy 2 years to my best friend in the world (sorry trevor)

to the boy who made me wait so that he could change his hat before our date, the one who suffers through my camera shoved in his face (both in the rink and out), the one who let me drive a total of three times before telling me i should never legally be allowed behind a wheel and has never let me drive him again, the one who let me teach him taylor swift songs “so if the media ever asks again”, the one who once drunkenly told me that i have the greatest boobs he’s ever seen… and also that he’s seen a lot of them (thank you so much for that)

happy anniversary. you have exceeded any expectations i had of what love is. thank you for choosing to love me 2 years ago, i love you to pluto <3

p.s. sorry i didn’t get you a proper present yet, but i hope i’ve made it up by making you look like a loving boyfriend on the internet

tagged jackhughes

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jackhughes i love you so much, my sweet girl. happy 2 years, dove. thank you for making my life better ❤️

jackhughes i AM a loving boyfriend

y/ndevils00 yeah, and now i made you LOOK like one. you’re welcome 🤍

trevorzegras i’ll let it slide because you guys are too adorable. happy anniversary to my favorite couple!

y/ndevils00 i thought your favorite couple was ryan reynolds and blake lively?

trevorzegras they’re my favorite MARRIED couple, god y/n, keep up

user95 happy anniversary to y/n and jack!!

dawson1417 best friend has been with her bf for 2 years 🤯 haps annivers!

y/ndevils00 thank you best friend!! 🤍

john.marino97 was that last part even english?

y/ndevils00 @/john.marino97 leave baby alone, he’s trying!

dawson1417 yeah John, leave baby alone!

john.marino97 happy anniversary guys! favorite couple! definitely better than dawson and ryleigh

y/ndevils00 i feel like you’re jealous… do you need to go sit in the calm down corner?

john.marino97 yeah, i’m lonely

y/ndevils00 i know you are, honey. it’s okay 🤍

njdevils happy anniversary to our favorite devils couple!!

y/ndevils00 thank you summer media intern!! please don’t steal my job.

njdevils i wouldn’t dream of it -summer media intern

nicohischier he’s always wearing a hat

y/ndevils00 well actually i had to make him wear the one on the boat, i didn’t want the sun to burn his pretty face

nicohischier thank you for keeping his face safe, that’s obviously the most important aspect

user12 FAVE COUPLE IS 2 YEARS OLD TODAY

dougieham happy anniversary to y/n and her boyfriend that i met once! i don’t remember his name though 🤔

y/ndevils00 thanks ham sammich! see you next month, ginger snap!

[shelbgrey]

Hi! alright? could you do a fanfic where the reader (or y/n) is Emmett and Rosalie's adopted daughter and they just LOVE the fact that she's a redhead? they love her freckles all over her cheeks and fiery red hair, not only them, but the entire Cullen family, they love it!! And maybe one imagines where someone at school admires her for her fiery hair and vampires don't like it! Idk ❤️.

Forever now(Emmett Cullen and Rosalie Hale)

Paring: Daughter!Reader X Emmett Cullen x Rosalie Hale.

Summary: normally when a child in need crosses the path of the Cullens carlisle is always willing to find a spot in his family for them but when a small red-head crosses their path its Rosalie's turn to start the family she's always wanted.

A/n: I love this request so much. I love purness in it and I'm excited to write my first Twilight request.

A/n #2: request are currently closed so I can work on my Emmett Cullen series.

MasterList

The little girl with firey hair story starts a little while back. The little girl was no less than two when she we welcomed into the Cullen family. The little girl's mother had died while giving birth to her and her father was unfit to take care of her.

The soul residents of small town in Alaska became concerned for the red-head child which led her in the hands of the chief of police. This was Beyond the cop's knowledge, so of course he called Carlisle Cullen who was head of the hospital he worked at the time. He had brought the small red-head girl to the hospital and Carlisle was in aw as the small girl stared at him with big doe eyes, almost too shy for her own good.

Carlisle knelt down to her hight and offered his hand. He smiled softly as the little girl approached him carefully. She was clueless to the situation but she knew she could trust the blonde doctor with gold eyes.

Alice had a vision of the red-head girl with freckles but the version she saw, Carlisle and Esme adopted her. Alice's visions had never been so wrong...

Not even the 300 year old vampire could explain what happened that day. As the little girl wondered around the bright house she curiously walked up to Emmett. He was setting in the living room playing video games when the small girl poked his knee a mumbled a small word...

“giant”

It was the first time they heard her talk and they were not disappointed. Emmett chuckled at the smell girl as she hugged on his giant leg. She didn't shy away from him. She did the same with Rosalie.

The family have never seen her this happy. She had gotten home from late from a shopping trip that same night and she was in love as soon as she saw the little girl's fuzzy red hair and beautiful freckles setting on Emmett's lap.

“who's this?” she smiled. The little girl waved at Rosalie and had a big cheesey smile. Rose loved every part of the little girl. In her eyes she's was perfect, from her red hair to her freckles.

The little girl stayed for about a week before the family made the decision of what would the future would be. As that week passed Rosalie grew more and More attached. She would always make sure she ate well and would do her hair everyday. Just like a mother would.

As for Emmett he was slightly afraid to be around the small human. With his bone crushing strength and everything else that came with being a vampire he would never forgive himself if he hurt her.

Of course that didn't stop the little girl. She would giggle and follow him around where ever he went. If he was working on his jeep she would laugh and crawl under it with him. If he was playing video games she would crawl into his lap begging him to read her a story.

All that two year old understood was, this was her home and the people around her was family. She was so young her brain told her Emmett and Rosalie was Mommy and Daddy. Which led Rosalie to life aultering decision after that one single word that fell out of Little red's mouth.

'mama'

Edward nor Jasper could even put into words how happy she was. When she heard that she was glowing with happiness as she held the little girl.

“mama loves you darling” she mumbled. After that the family knew she had a home there and they also knew Rosalie would fight tooth and nail for that little girl.

That night Rosalie layed on the couch as the little girl slept soundly in her arms. Emmett quietly joined her with a huge grien. “okay” he simply replied.

“okay?” she chuckled not really catching on.

“she's ours Rose” his smile only got bigger as he watched his mate hold the little girl with nothing but pure happiness.

“your mommy and daddy love you so much little y/n” Rosalie said kissing her sleeping head.

And that's how the little girl with red hair and freckles became y/n Hale-Cullen. The little girl brought so much joy into the family and each family member ment so much too her.

Emmett and Rosalie of course were #1 in her eyes but as she made herself comfortable in the family she also made meaningful relationships.

She was a listener and an observer so she quickly caught on that carlisle and Esme were her parents 'parents'. She would often call carlisle, Car or pops. When she was little she couldn't properly say his name which lead to Car and pops. Carlisle became close with the small child as well, he loved her personality and loved it when she'd ask about being a doctor. Then Esme. Y/n grew close with Esme immediately, if she wasn't with rose then she was with Esme.

Her Aunts and Uncles were the same. She'd never say it out loud but Jasper was her favorite uncle. Jasper would say y/n was the only thing pure in his life, but that was true for all of them.

Then there's the who vampire thing. Y/n wasn't stupid and of course she wanted to know why mom and dad never ate gold fish crackers like she did and she wanted to know why when ever she had a bad dreams mom and dad weren't in bed asleep when she ran in for comfort.

She was about six years old when she found out. She knew she had to keep it a secret and she was very good at it. This also led to Rosalie's fear of her becoming a vampire. Of course she wanted her daughter to be around Forever, but her heart broke eveytime she thought about the opportunities that would be tooken away from her. Which is why she's now 16 and looked the same age as her uncle Edward.

Y/n would never say it out loud but she was sick of it. She wanted to be like her family and it was hard for her grow up while everyone else in her family remained the same ages. She wanted her mom's gold eyes and her father's strength... She just wanted to feel normal in what she felt was a normal family but here she was, now 16 going to High school with her parents and her Aunts and Uncles.

Just livin' the dream...

--------( ....... )--------

So far Forks was y/n favorite palce to live. She's been just about everywhere, that came with being a Cullen. But something about this town was special to her. But the down fall was all the curious eyes. She didn't like the attention her family received. She hated how people would watch them... She hated how people watched her and that made her have second thoughts about the thing everyone loved about her.

She's was going through a 'phase' at least Emmett and Rosalie hoped it was. Her phase was she didn't like how her hair looked, no matter how many times Rosalie or Esme would tell her how beautiful she was. But no matter what she did with it everyone still seemed to be in aw about it.

Especially the boys at Forks High...

As I said before she hated how people watched her. Her beautiful hair is the reason why people watched her. She started to resent it no matter how many different ways Rosalie or Alice styled it or how many times Carlisle would say how beautiful it was. She just hated the attention. She hated the attention the high school boys gave her.

“Hey, y/n” Mike Newton said one day as she was leaving her English class.

Y/n wasn't a socializing type, hell she was shy. She would just mumbled a small hello with a smile. Mike continued to walk with her and eye her up and down.

“your hair is pretty today” Mike smiled. It was a nice thing to say, yes but as he said it y/n passed her uncle Jasper.

“Hey I was wondering if-”

Jasper slammed his locker shut in anger as he felt impure feelings the teen felt for his niece. In Mike's defense he truly liked her but he would never be her type. Jasper took on the role of the big brother he played at school and walked up to the two.

“hi y/n” he said glaring at Mike. Y/n rolled her eyes as milk gulped.

Jasper continued to walk down the hallway with the two as he intimidated Mike. Y/n sighed and looked down in embarrassment but at the same time thankfull it wasn't her father. Emmett would have made it ten times worse.

“Hey Mike, weren't you gonna say something?” y/n asked softly as they walked to their next class with Jasper.

He shrugged. “I honestly don't remember” he said staying silent in fear of what Jasper would do. They then walked passed Alice and Rosalie in the hallway he recoiled even further as he felt Rosalie's percing eyes. Rose didn't say anything though, she knew her daughter was safe with Jasper. She also knew Emmett would have a cow if he found out.

Despite the angry eyes of the Cullen family, Mike couldn't stop looking at her beautiful red hair. He loved the way the curls perfectly framed her face and bounced as she moved gracefully. But you just don't look at y/n Cullen like that. No matter if you have good intentions or not.

So Mike failed and so did a handful of others at school. Jasper of course kept it a secret like y/n asked but his mind would wonder and if it wondered to that one faithful day Edward would find out. And Edward refused to lie to Emmett or Rosalie when it came y/n.

This would lead to Emmett putting the fear of God in Mike dispite his daughter's pleas. Yes she found him annoying but the kindness Esme and Carlisle had tougher made her fear for Mike.

Tyler was the only one who was close to even getting a date with her. She actually liked him at one point but then he moved away. But after that y/n stopped showing interest in the boys of her school. She stopped even if they still loved her and her red hair.

Those human boys never mattered to her. There was no possible future due to her life style and family. They especially stopped mattering after she found her mate Benjamin...

The first thing Benjamin noticed about her was her freckled covered cheeks as she smile. He couldn't help but smile with her. He was in love with her firey red hair and couldn't stop staring at how it perfectly layed on her shoulders or how it reminded him of the sunsets at his home.

All the things she grew tired of because of the boys at Forks High, she grew to love because of Benjamin's genuine compliments and love he had for the things that made her stand out.

[dailymothanon]

Oak my beautiful wonderful woman 🦬 Javier/Texas really fumbled this one… (mainly cuz Oak discovered she likes women but Yknow) I don’t think I really need say which one Oak is, feels pretty easy to figure out, but ermmm, she’s a little feisty! Not much but enough to chase Javier off with a broom. And she’s sensible unlike him 🙄 she was fun to draw! And I like to think about her ❤️ yay

Bonus thing is that physical animal traits and such are inconsistent between the folks in this, like Yuka/Alaska only has hoofed legs, meanwhile Oak has hoofed arms and legs. Some may look much more animalistic/inhuman meanwhile others less so

[kayleerowena]

hey y’all, i’ve been having a very bad time money-wise and mental health-wise — paying taxes cleared out my entire savings, and my remaining money is pretty much all going to paying rent this month, so i'm a little stressed.

i have a big trip next month to seattle/alaska for comics camp that i would love to not be completely entirely broke for. i also found out yesterday that i was accepted to thoughtbubble comics fest, and i would love to attend, but i don't have the money for airfare/hotels right now.

so! if you like the things i create and want to help me be able to keep making things, here are some links where you can do that. anything helps! i hate asking for money on the internet, but things are rough right now, so i'd really appreciate anything y'all can toss my way.

(reblogs are also appreciated!)

[atlaculture]

Do you know of any specific resources on the musical instruments that might be present in the Avatar world? Especially from the water tribe(s)?

I'll probably elaborate on Air Nomad, Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation instruments in later posts, but I can go over some possible Water Tribe instruments right now.

Char's Analysis of Possible Water Tribe Instruments is fantastic!

Some notable instruments from Inuit, Inupiat, and Yupik peoples:

Kelutviaq / Qelutviaq - Yupik single-string lute

Tautirut - Canadian Inuit Fiddle

Qilaut / Qilaat / Cauyaq - A handheld frame drum used by Inuit, Inupiat, and Yupik peoples across that Arctic. It is played with a stick called a qatuk. It's made of caribou skin and wood.

Drawing on the Siberian influences in the Northern Water Tribe, we have...

Mouth Harp / Jaw Harp - A small instrument that's held in the mouth and played through tapping and plucking. Its origins are from Northern Siberia, but it's also played by some Inuit peoples.

Chukchi Flute - A three-piped flute of the Chukchi people.

There's also Mongolian, Central Asian, First Nation, and Alaska Native instruments, if you're willing to expand beyond Arctic music:

Mongolian Instruments

Central Asian Instruments

Khakas Instruments

Indigenous music of North America - Wikipedia

Like what I’m doing? Tips always appreciated, never expected. ^_^

[daenystheedreamer]

OH for the ship grid: i had time on my day off and wanted to see what the most popular gay ships on asoiaf ao3 are (so what is popular when you exclude m/f tags and ships) so the following ten for the meme: aemond/lucerys, alicent/rhaenyra, theon/robb, sansa/margaery, theon/ramsay, renly/loras, jon/robb, aegon ii/jacaerys, tormund/jon, sansa/daenerys can’t wait to see where u place these, peace&love 🫶

HERE MY FRIEND again the makes sense axis is a combo of 'does it make sense in canon' and 'do i understand why people ship it' so if it looks a bit weird thats why 🫶 ship discussions udner the cut mwah

aemond lucerys.... look i get it. i do get it. 1) urge for yaoi 2) there are crumbs you can bake 3) cute actors. i understand. im deep in the yaoi trenches i understand seme uke i get it i get it. but also the idea its like Canon or an accurate reading of either character is soo...... lucerys is not a femme fatale or an ingenue. he is a plot device. and aemond.... aemond's 'obsession' with lucerys is more one bred from insecurity as opposed to yaoi lust. but i do get it. one love to the lucemond people. wish u guys would be normal about the UNDERAGE luke actor. he's an adult now but can we not do countdown shit. weird as hell...

rhaenicent #1 its literally canon. its subtext its textual its openly a part of the narrative. the complex web of sexuality, womanhood and patriarchy that seeps rhaenicent is so compelling. alicent as a lesbian and rhaenyra as a butch/lesbian/bisexual/trans/dragongender are genuinely compelling analyses of the characters. #1 foreva

im normal about throbb now<3 i think in canon the theon bisexual analysis is interesting but not super vital to his character. his sexuality and manhood certainly, but i like throbb more cos i like theon rather than on its own merits.

sansaery ❤️ i enjoy sansaery as a way to explore sansa's character and specifically her as a lesbian. both characters are fun and interesting but its high up cos it has a special place in my heart<3

im not really into thramsay i have no thoughts on it. one love to the thramsays though u guys are warriors. i think it has wayyy more sub/textual basis in canon than throbb

renloras is just canon so i dont have much thoughts on it. its sweet! make me sad. rip babes loras you would have loved gymbro culture.

jonrobb is meh to me idk 🤷‍♀️ theyre fine as brothers and there's not much analysis to be had of their relationship beyond that. one love to the brocons ig. cousincons

aegon x jace is beyond nothing to me sorry 😭 but thats mostly cos im not super into the dance or hotd beyond rhaenicent. i get why it exists but there's little to no basis in canon to bake nor does it have much analysis. one love to the jacegons of course

JONMUND... okay book jonmund is meh whatever but show jonmund is real to me. jon post canon is operating a cozy bed and breakfast with tormund in alaska beyond the wall. one of my fave crackships. he's kissed by fire!

daensa🍋❤️ i love u daensa. very important to my bi!dany and lezzo!sansa thoughts. song of ice and fire 🫶

[christinesficrecs]

do you have any stiles who is pregnant with derek’s pup or pups? no surrogacy pls. :)

Oh my goodness! I promised you fics! And then life happened! So glad you didn't give up on me. ❤️

let’s see where this thing goes by EvanesDust | 5.4K | Explicit

When Derek moved to Beacon Hills on a whim, he never expected to see Stiles again. He certainly never expected to find out that he was a father, and after a rocky start, he never thought that they’d be a family. But six months later, Stiles and Derek have moved in together and are raising their son, Jake.

They’ve planned for the future, but after Stiles reminisces about his pregnancy, Derek realizes he doesn’t know if Stiles wants more kids.

The answer is yes.

…or the one where Stiles and Derek are parents and discuss having more kids. Featuring fluff and smut, with a side of breeding kink.

Desperate Measures by SylvieW | 25.1K | Mature

Alone and away from his pack on an international business trip, Derek finds company in a local omega. He didn't realize that Stiles' desperation--and the outdated laws of his country--would turn their one night stand into so much more.

You'll Be Mine and I'll Be Yours by tearsandholdme | 87.3K | Mature

“Oh my god!” Stiles hissed, his back colliding with the door. “Oh my god! I slept with my boss, oh my god. I'm a walking cliché!”

It was supposed to be a one night stand. No complications, no feelings, no baggage. But then a missed doctor's appointment in his childhood comes back to haunt him and Stiles is left with a lot more than one very good night.

if it's meant to be, it'll be by DeancebraArt, EvanesDust | 27.5K | Explicit

Following a chance encounter with an irresistible and alluring omega, Derek wakes up in bed alone, with no way to contact the man he met the night before. Over the course of the next year, Derek finds himself wondering: how can he miss someone he doesn’t even know? And, more importantly, how can he find him again?

After a one-night stand with a mysterious alpha werewolf leaves Stiles pregnant, he resigns himself to raising his child as a single parent. It’s not until the man he’s been pining over for the last year shows up at his doorstep, does he realize there might actually be something more complicated than raising a child on his own: love.

You Plus One by Unloyal_Olio | 8.8K | Explicit

Stiles didn’t beat around the bush. “Can werewolves get man-pregnant?”

Deaton dropped the cat he was holding.

You'll Grow Into Your Skin by crossroadswrite | 11.8K

“So funny story,” Stiles winces, “Remember when I joked you couldn’t get me pregnant?”

Derek nods his head. He remembers pretty much everything from that day.

“Right,” Stiles bobs his head, stops himself and does a little ta-da gesture towards Jacy, “Surprise?”

(Once in a) Blue Moon by clarkoholic, skywardsmiles | 60K | Explicit

Stiles and Derek are getting along, but they’re not a family, and they’re sure as hell not mates. Christ, they’re basically just two stupid guys who happened to get pregnant because of a full moon and sheer dumb luck.

The Lighthouse Keeper by tugela54 | 75K | Explicit

On a rural island just off Alaska’s northern Inside Passage, stands a centuries old lighthouse - the perfect sanctuary for its keeper to hide when the moon is full, to burn and rage through its cycle with the townsfolk being none the wiser.

But then a new resident comes to Beacon Harbour – a bright-eyed young student chasing an elusive whale species – and all of a sudden those thick stone walls seem paper thin…

Like the Sun Holds the Moon by IAmAVeronica | 118.1K | Explicit

Stiles is an omega, and he's supposed to be obedient. He's supposed to mate with the stranger chosen for him and quietly disappear. He's not supposed to talk to alphas, or have sex, or fall in love. Then he meets Derek Hale. Obedience was always overrated, anyway.

My Life is not a Horror Movie, Derek by DiscontentedWinter | 38.9K | Explicit

Stiles keeps dreaming of people in robes with knives. With chanting. In Latin. And he mentioned the knives, right? That can't be good.

monday i can fall apart but by friday i'm in love by tryslora | 5.6K | Mature

It's just past five in the morning and Stiles is barely awake, wearing only sleep pants that hang low below his pregnant belly, and he can't get the damned brand new jar of decaf coffee open. But he has a neighbor, and he's too tired to think that waking someone else up at this hour might not be the best (or politest) of ideas.

[emberfrostlovesloki]

Aaron and CM Meet-Cute Master List

Photo credits: Left (@themoontaxi) Center (@lesbianladysif) Right (@hotch-girl)

Good afternoon my loves! I hope you’re having a great Saturday/weekend so far. Mine is flying by, but not unpleasantly. The lovely @imagining-in-the-margins has asked me to make a small master list of all the Meet-Cute-Fics I’ve written during October and November, and I’m more than happy to do that. I’m pretty proud of all the writing I’ve accomplished over the last few months. I’ve written 117,496 words of Criminal Minds fanfiction which is roughly 188 pages worth of work. How it happened... well I just love these characters so much, and I can’t stop thinking of ideas for them! I hope to continue loving them for a long time still. I’m also, incredibly grateful for the mutuals that hype me up every day - @sadgirlzluvdilfs @criminalskies @hotchs-big-hands @softhairedhotch @citrusiove. Even if you’re just a silent reader of my work I really appreciate you. I hope you all have a good day and if you ever want to talk, my messages are always open. ❤️ 

You can read the master list below the cut. You can find my full master list, with a lot of my older Spencer content and my academic work, at this link (or it’s just the pinned post on my page.)

Fic Guide: 

✨ = most popular 

❤️  = personal favorite(s)

* = smut 18+ Minors DNI

∆ = must read A/N before the fic 

** = drug use

Aaron Meet-Cute One-Shots 

A for Effort: A meet-cute of how Aaron met the non-BAU reader at Penelope’s theater improv group show. And how Aaron accompanies the reader to host her Halloween extra-credit horror movie watch and discussion for her students. (link) 

Talent *: An inebriated Aaron finds out that the readers has a hidden talent and they offer to show him it later. When they get back to his apartment later, more sober, Aaron apologizes, feeling awkward for getting them into this situation. They (the reader) honestly asks Hotch if he would let them do it anyway. (link)

Eclipsed: A one-shot about how the non-BAU reader saved Aaron from a date gone wrong and when Aaron, Jack, and the reader go to see the solar eclipse together. (link) 

Demons ❤️ : The team is forced into very close quarters during a case on an offshore oil rig in Alaska. It’s bitterly cold and there’s nowhere to go and three men have been beaten and stabbed to death. The team must solve the mystery before it’s too late. A mix-up in rooms also has Aaron and the reader closer than ever. It allows him to learn something new about her. (link)

Pierced: The non-BAU reader gets a new piercing and sends Aaron a picture of it while he’s on a case. To say he’s flustered is a bit of an understatement. (link) 

Melancholia ❤️ : Characters both duck for cover under the same tiny storefront when it starts pouring, aka, how the reader met Aaron. Also, the reader is feeling down due to the seasonal changes and Aaron is there to give her some love and support. (link) 

Everything Stays *: The characters fight over the perfect pumpkin at the patch and explain why each of them needs it; aka, Hotch and the reader watch as Jack and the reader’s niece talk about pumpkins. (link) 

Unwanted Attention ✨: Having to travel to the middle of nowhere Ohio For a serial killer was bad enough, add to the fact that the local LEOs are looking a little too hard at JJ, Emily, and _y/n_, was testing Aaron’s resolve. Lots of protective Hotch here! This is another @imagining-in-the-marginsinspired fic for her Meet Cute Writing Challenge. I’m using the dialog prompt: “Watch where you’re going!” “… You ran into me?!” (link) 

This Space of Ours * ∆: Aaron is subjected to the whims of a sadist in search of revenge because his younger brother was put away by Agent Hotchner and the BAU team. (link) 

Life can be Terrible, but at Least You’re In It * ∆: This is a mix of two of @imagining-in-the-margins Meet-Cute writing challenge dialog prompts. I’ve mixed the two prompts: “Do you believe in Fate” and “This was way too cliched” to write this fic. (link) 

Stalked: The non-BAU reader gets locked out of her apartment and their neighbor picks the lock for you; aka you get locked out of your apartment and Hotch steps in to give you a hand. (link) 

Love is a Maze: The non-BAU reader gets lost in a corn maze… meant for children. She begrudgingly asks a total stranger for help; aka the reader gets stuck in a corn maze and has to ask a total stranger (Aaron) to help her get out. (link) 

Derailed: The non-BAU reader and Aaron are sat together on a long train ride. A one shot in which the reader unexpectedly spends an hour on a train with Agent Aaron Hotchener. (link) 

Haunted Houses and Haunted Hearts: The non-BAU reader gets scared in a haunted tour and jumps in the arms of someone that they think is their friend -- but it’s not. A short one-shot in which you have a spend a few hours with  Aaron Hotchner at a Halloween horror haunt. (link)

Emily One-Shots 

This is becoming a bit of an unintentional series, but you could read these as stand-alones too. 

Moschino and Muddy Water: The non-BAU reader offers unsolicited fashion advice to a total stranger in the dressing room; aka when you meet Emily Prentiss in the Moschino dressing room and give her some confidence… and maybe something more. (link) 

Mean It ✨: Emily accidentally dumps her coffee on the non-BAU reader in a very dramatic fashion; aka when Emily and the reader have their first date and it does not go to plan. (link) 

Halloween Honey *: Emily introduces the non-BAU reader to the team at Derek’s on Halloween night. After they get back to Emily’s apartment they take their relationship to the next level. (link) 

Spencer One-Shots 

Coffee Shop ** ∆ ✨: Characters get the same coffee order. They both reach for it at the same time, aka, when the reader and Specer order the same, oddly specific coffee order and the reader can see that Spencer is struggling and tries her best to be someone he can lean on. This story is more about Aaron and Spencer’s relationship than anything else and it deals with Spencer’s drug abuse problem [the reader is just kind of there.] (link) 

More to come for Aaron, Emily, and Spence soon!

[rynnthefangirl]

My Top 10 Favorite Breaking Bad Universe Characters

1. Howard Hamlin - this one is kinda silly bc he is much less developed than other characters, but I can’t help it. His tragedy hits so hard, it took a character whom I didn’t really care about and made him my absolute #1 fave. Rest in peace Howard you deserved better🥺💔

2. Jimmy McGill/Saul Goodman - Gilligould really took a look at their whacky comic relief lawyer in Breaking Bad, and said “hmm, what if we made him the absolute most complex and fascinating character in our entire fictional universe”. And then they did.🙌

3. Jesse Pinkman - God his story hurts. He had one of the best hearts in the whole show, yet he suffered more than ANY other character. His character goes from loveably silly to absolutely heart shattering. I hope he found some peace in Alaska.❤️

4. Walter White - I just can’t help but love this horrible horrible man. He’s goofy and ridiculous, but also insane and egotistical in the most entertaining way. What a great protagonist, he’s compelling when I am rooting for him and compelling when I am praying for his downfall.

5. Chuck McGill - IMO, the best antagonist in the whole BrBa universe. The Jimmy vs Chuck storyline was TOP TIER, Chicanery was a masterpiece of an episode, Lantern and Winner are just dripping with tragedy and sorrow and what-if's. And it's all because of Chuck. Rip Chuck, you may have been a prick but damn if you didn’t make this show the brilliant piece of television that it was.

6. Kim Wexler - no character gives me more mixed feelings than Kim. I always liked her in the early seasons, then I despised her in s6a, then my heart broke for her in s6b, and now I retroactively have so much more love and sorrow for her earlier self because there was so much good there and she could have been so much better and GOD Kim is such a tragic, amazing, well written character.

7. Skyler White - oh my god, my poor wife. You deserved so much better than what the audience gave you all those years. You were a queen, and so right about everything, and I am so sorry I didn’t see it before but now I will defend you until my dying day❤️❤️❤️

8. Lalo Salamanca - he’s just so insane and silly and entertaining. He steals every scene he’s in, and in my opinion added some desperately needed charm and charisma to the cartel side of the show. Legit was rooting for him against Gus, even though he killed my boy Howie and I knew he was doomed to fail.

8. Nacho Varga - Like Jesse, he went through so much despite having one of the most decent hearts on the show, and it all culminated in such a tragic yet powerful death scene. And I love love love the idea of the curse of Nacho Varga dooming Gus, the Salamancas, and the Cartel for their sins. His ghost looms over Breaking Bad, and makes both shows much richer as a result.

9. Cheryl Hamlin - she fascinates me, we see very little of her and yet I loved her scenes and want to know more. I'll also not tolerate Cheryl slander, we don't know what was going on in her and Howard’s marriage, and in the end she stood up for him when nobody else did.

10. Mike Ehrmantraut - to be honest, I'm not the biggest Mike fan. Not because there is anything wrong with his character per se, but I find it a bit annoying how the fandom idolizes him as a loveable grandpa/moral criminal when he actually is kind of horrible and not all that different from Walter. That being said, I do love what they were going for in BCS, showing his slow corruption as he keeps going back into the world of crime to avoid dealing with his grief for his son's death, culminating in that amazing scene where the show calls him on his hypocrisy and Manual Varga tells him 'you gangsters and your justice, you are all the same'. I just wish it was explored more explicitly in the narrative and fandom the way that Walt and Jimmy's moral corruptions are.

[afeelgoodblog]

1. Girl with incurable cancer recovers after pioneering treatment

A girl’s incurable cancer has been cleared from her body after what scientists have described as the most sophisticated cell engineering to date. Alyssa, whose family do not wish to give their surname, was diagnosed with T-cell acute lymphoblastic leukaemia in May 2021.

Scientists at Great Ormond Street Hospital for Children in London gave her pre-manufactured cells edited using new technology to allow them to hunt down and destroy cancerous T-cells without attacking each other. Less than a month after being given the treatment, she was in remission, and was able to have a second bone marrow transplant.

Can I get a fuck cancer?

2. The UK has made gigabit internet a legal requirement for new homes

Updated regulations require new properties to be built with gigabit broadband connections and make it easier to install into existing blocks of flats across the UK. Connection costs will be capped at £2,000 per home, and developers must still install gigabit-ready infrastructure (including ducts, chambers, and termination points) and the fastest-available connection if they’re unable to secure a gigabit connection within the cost cap

3. US cancer death rate falls 33% since 1991

The rate of people dying from cancer in the United States has continuously declined over the past three decades, according to a new report from the American Cancer Society.

The US cancer death rate has fallen 33% since 1991, which corresponds to an estimated 3.8 million deaths averted, according to the report, published Thursday in CA: A Cancer Journal for Clinicians. Partly due to advances in treatment, early detection and less smoking, report says

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4. Lab-grown retinal eye cells make successful connections, open door for clinical trials to treat blindness

Retinal cells grown from stem cells can reach out and connect with neighbors, according to a new study, completing a “handshake” that may show the cells are ready for trials in humans with degenerative eye disorders.

Over a decade ago, researchers from the University of Wisconsin–Madison developed a way to grow organized clusters of cells, called organoids, that resemble the retina, the light-sensitive tissue at the back of the eye. They coaxed human skin cells reprogrammed to act as stem cells to develop into layers of several types of retinal cells that sense light and ultimately transmit what we see to the brain.

5. The ozone layer is on track to recover in the next 40 years, the United Nations says

The Earth's ozone layer is on its way to recovering, thanks to decades of work to get rid of ozone-damaging chemicals, a panel of international experts backed by the United Nations has found.

The ozone layer serves an important function for living things on Earth. This shield in the stratosphere protects humans and the environment from harmful levels of the sun's ultraviolet radiation. In the latest report on the progress of the Montreal Protocol, the U.N.-backed panel confirmed that nearly 99% of banned ozone-depleting substances have been phased out.

6. Uganda declares an end to Ebola outbreak

The Ugandan government has declared an end to its Ebola outbreak, less than four months after cases were first reported. Since 20 September, 56 people have died from the virus, which is spread through body fluids, and there have been 142 confirmed infections.

The country has reported no new infections in more than 42 days – twice the maximum incubation period of the virus, a World Health Organization benchmark for a country to be declared Ebola-free.

7. Doggy ‘daycare’ bus in Alaska goes viral on TikTok

Check them out here:

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[mademoisellejuilette]

I see the northern lights quite a bit because of where my family is from in Alaska. I went through the trending tag for them and my heart is so full! I’m so glad everyone else is seeing them!!

One of our beliefs is you see the northern lights when you need comfort or a visit from a relative. That’s why the lights seem to skim over the top of houses. Some people also say when they move like a river they’re actually inviting you to dance and feel the joy. People go outside and tell stories to the northern lights or catch them up on what they’ve been doing too.

I hope you guys feel comforted and sleep well ❤️