#family camping stoves

[goshyesvintageads]

The Coleman Co, 1972

[quaranmine]

If you can't get a friend to go with you, why don't you just go by yourself? It will be fun and I'm certain nothing terrible will happen /j

No but please don't actually go by yourself lmao...

Surely I wouldn't face any problems at all on the sketchy washed out dirt forest service road that everyone in reviews says is closed half the time in an area with more than likely no cell service ??? 😁

[skbeaumont]

Scars – A Joel Miller/Reader Oneshot

“You have them too.” You say, tracing your fingertips along the pale scar that sits at the side of his head, disappearing into thick dark hair. “Yes,” He replies, his voice thick, accent dragging out the vowel. “Show me.”

Summary: When Joel stumbles into the kitchen at 2am, restless and tense, he doesn't expect to find you at the table, nursing a cold mug of tea. He certainly doesn't expect to end up tracing the scars on your skin, explaining how he got his, your hands mapping the contors of each other's old wounds until something new emerges.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, mutual pining, kind of angsty but also fluffy?, descriptions of old injuries, explicit sex, PIV, fingering, dirty talk, body worship, flirting, yearning, mentions of alcohol.

Word Count: 3.3k

It’s late, and the rest of Jackson is asleep.

A single street lamp lights the dark kitchen, casting a soft orange glow over the table and your half empty mug. The tea is long-since cold, but you keep your hands wrapped around it anyway, trying to soak up the last of its heat. There’s a microwave behind you, and a coffee machine, and enough hot water to fill several baths, but after twenty years of surviving by fire light and camping stoves, these modern conveniences still seem like the technology of your childhood, distant and unrealistic. And so the tea remains cold.

You’re not sure you’ll ever get used to the normality of Jackson: the routine and order and kindness that seeps into every interaction, every town meeting and evening out. It’s been four months since you arrived – limping and half-dead, frozen almost solid by the bitter Wyoming winter – at the town’s gates.

And now you’re inside on a mild spring night, sharing a house with a man and his not-daughter, healthy and almost whole again. The town council were apologetic about housing you with Joel and Ellie: it was the only house with a spare bedroom at the time, but in truth it had been a relief. There was something overwhelmingly comforting about being around other people again, sleeping only a thin wall away from another human being, sharing meals and chores.

Joel’s quiet and serious most of the time, but you see cracks appearing in his hard exterior when he’s with Ellie, or his brother Tommy. Something of the man that existed before the world ended. And more recently he’s started opening up to you, too; rolling his eyes at you behind Ellie’s back when she swears or insults houseguests, chuckling at your bad jokes, letting his guard down when he gets home from a hard day’s construction work, allowing you to make him hot drinks and massage his sore shoulders.

You’re careful not to push anything too far, but the slow roll into familiarity with Joel has bred something less familial, too. Something wanting and churning that settles deep in your belly when you’re around him. It makes you want to press yourself against him, settle yourself in the crook of his shoulder, lick the thick tendons of his neck. Whether he feels the same is a mystery. He’s older than you by a couple of decades, not that that matters to you – you’re both adults – but he maintains a distance. Lets you massage his shoulders but never makes a sound while you do it. Holds the door open for you but keeps a respectful distance when you walk side-by-side through town. Allows you to rest your feet in his lap in the evenings on the sofa, but doesn’t touch them, or acknowledge them. You’ve heard him moving around in the night, restless and fidgety, but he never comes to your room on those long dark nights seeking comfort or companionship.

He's been quiet since he went to bed several hours earlier on this particular night, which is why it’s a shock when the kitchen light flickers on, illuminating Joel’s broad silhouette in the doorway. You scramble out of the chair onto your feet, heart thumping. He holds a hand up, calmingly, doesn’t move as your eyes adjust to the light.

“Fucking hell, Joel. You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry,” He takes a step into the kitchen, feet bare on the terracotta tiles.

He’s still in his clothes from today, dark jeans under a thin grey tee, both slightly crumpled as though he’s slept in them. He always does. Undoubtedly it’s the same ritual that makes him keep a pistol on his bedside table, leave a packed go-bag by the front door; the same anxiety that casts dark shadows under his eyes, fuels his insomnia and maintains his habitual whiskey drinking. He’s ready for anything, always, because he’s been through shit and he thinks at any moment it’ll happen again. You understand. It’s why you’re in the kitchen at 2am, cold tea clutched between shaking hands.

“Couldn’t sleep?” You ask, as he opens a high cupboard and pulls out a tumbler.

You move around him, tip the dregs of your tea down the sink.

“Something like that,” He replies, voice croaky.

He pours the whiskey out into the glass, swirls it in thick fingers and then rests back against the kitchen counter opposite you, eyes finally finding yours. They hover for a moment on your face, dark and penetrating, then flick to one shoulder, the other, down your arm.

You keep them covered, normally. Wear long sleeves even in the heat of summer, never undress around anyone. You’ve avoided the swimming pond that opened three weeks ago, even though the water looked heavenly in the warm April weather, unwillingly to bear the scars that litter your body to the town, afraid they’ll show the community who you really are, reveal the terrible things you’ve done to survive. But unlike Joel you don’t have a habit of sleeping in your clothes, and the thin vest and shorts you’re wearing now reveals those long-hidden scars to him in the bright kitchen light.

The bullet wound is the worst one; a puckered, deep purple starburst across one shoulder, skin wrought into something alien and terrible. It’s this one that his gaze linger on, dark eyes making heat roll up your spine. His fist is gripping the whiskey glass so tightly that the tips of his fingers and knuckles are white with the strain of it.

“They’re awful, I know.” You say into the silence.

“What? No- God, no. They’re not.” A pause, his eyes flicking away from yours, over to the far wall, back across. “I’ve got ‘em, too. We all have.”

You scoff at this. Move your hand up, place it on your shoulder. His hand twitches where it rests on the countertop, but he doesn’t move.

“You cover them.” He says. It’s not a question, but you feel like you have to answer anyway.

“Yes.” A breath, shaky on the exhale. “They’re ugly.” “No.” His voice is firm, commanding in the quiet kitchen. Despite yourself, you feel heat pooling between your thighs and you fidget, pressing them together, crossing your feet. The movement makes his eye dart down to your bare legs. You watch the apple of his throat as he swallows thickly, eyes trailing up to the hem of your shorts. There’s a scar there, too, bisecting your upper thigh. Thin and white, a reminder of a long ago incident with barbed wire.

“They’re not…” His voice trails off, eyes searching your face. “Nothing on you is ugly. Not even the scars. Especially not the scars.”

“No?”

“No.” He shifts, puts the whiskey glass down on the counter behind him and lifts his hand to your shoulder. Fingertips trace the edge of the bullet scar, and you feel goosepimples rise in their wake despite the warmth of the kitchen. He runs his hand up past its end, to your throat, along your collar bone and to the other arm. The scars there are paler, older. Shrapnel and grazes from a fall. Each one his fingertips trace reverently, as though they’re a holy text written across your skin. When he reaches the last, the one that loops around your wrist, the indent of a handcuff, you’re sure your heart is thumping so loudly he must be able to hear it, too. Slick is pooling between your thighs, hot and wet against the thin shorts you’re wearing.

“There are more,” You say, so quietly that it’s almost a whisper.

“Show me.”

It’s like a dance. You pull off your vest and Joel’s hand follows the curve of your waist, thumb dipping to press the small coin-shaped scar just below your rib cage. You sigh and he lets his hand run over your ribs, fingertips finding the spaces between like piano keys. When he reaches the curve of your bare breast he pauses, the weight of your flesh resting in the valley between his index finger and thumb. You don’t say anything, just lean into him, holding his eye contact, the pleasure and warmth of his hand making you bold. He moves slowly, carefully, rolling the bud of your nipple between his finger and thumb, pinching just so, pleasure blossoming in your chest, down your spine and to your cunt.

“This okay?” He asks, eyes flicking up from his hand to your face, tracking the pull of your eyebrows as they pitch together, the move of your mouth as you answer him with a shaky exhale.

“What about this one?” He asks, hand leaving your breast to trace across the scar that laces up your thigh under the hem of your shorts. “Can I?”

You’re not sure what he’s asking but you know that you want him to, want him to do whatever it is he’s asking so you nod. His hand grip your waist to lift you, setting you down on the kitchen counter. You grasp at his shoulders, the solid breadth of him hard under your hands. The counter is cold against the back of your legs, but before you can complain his hot hand is wrapped back around your thigh, thumb tracing the scar there again, fingertips inching up to the apex of your legs. He moves to stand between your open legs, still keeping a few inches of distance between you, the extra height of the counter making your eyes level. His burn into your face as he slips his hand higher still, fingers seeking out the wet heat of you, dipping inside, gathering slick and gliding it up to your clit.

“Joel,” You say into the aching gap between your lips and his.

“You’re fucking perfect,” He says, the words hot on your mouth, his breath mingling with your needy sighs. “All of you, you understand?”

You can only nod into his shoulder, head dropping to rest against the broad heft of it, his fingers thrumming a steady rhythm against your clit that has pleasure ratcheting up inside you. You’re still in your tiny sleep shorts, Joel’s hand forcing the crotch aside to palm at your drenched cunt. He slips two thick fingers into you, presses his thumb to your clit, and that tips you over the edge, pleasure coursing through you like fire.

He talks you through it, keeps up the firm press of his fingers, praises falling from his lips like prayers.

Good girl, that’s it, such a good fucking girl for me, taking what you need, so fucking perfect.

It’s only then, as you come down from the high, that he finally kisses you, tilting your head up with a gentle hand and fitting his lips to yours. They’re soft and dry, plush against your own. He slides his tongue against the seam of your lips, into the wet heat of your mouth, pulls back, before driving forward again, breathless and frantic. You thread your hands into the hair at the base of his neck, tugging him against you, teeth clashing in your mutual desperation. His pulls his fingers from your wet heat, smears your slick up your sides as his palms your breasts, his earlier gentleness gone. But when you slip a hand between your bodies, seeking out the hard length of him in his jeans, he pulls back. His eyes are dark despite the bright kitchen light, pupils eating up the thin sliver of brown at the edges, but there’s a reticence there.

“You have them too.” You say, tracing your fingertips along the pale scar that sits at the side of his head, disappearing into thick dark hair.

“Yes,” He replies, his voice thick, accent dragging out the vowel.

“Show me.”

He steps back, out of the circle of your legs, pulls at the neck of his t-shirt and drags it up, over his head and off. His eyes are fixed on you, watching you as you take in the broad bulk of him, the sloping plains of his shoulders and chest down to a softer stomach. He’s all strength: hard where you’re soft, his scars stretched across thick muscle and tanned flesh. There’s one at his side that canters a jagged line across his stomach, and that’s where your hand goes, holding his waist to rest your thumb against its uneven edge. It looks fairly fresh, no more than a couple of years old, still red.

“What’s this from?” You ask.

“I was stabbed,” He replies, “while I was with Ellie.”

“It looks like it was bad.”

“Well, she stitched it up, so,” He smiles, a hint of mischief returning to his eyes, growing bolder as your hands map his chest and stomach.

“And this one?” An old one, hardly noticeable in the light, to the right of his belly button.

“Appendicitis, when I was twelve.”

“These?” A collection of four or five small white gash marks, peppered across his shoulders and along his collarbone.

“Makeshift grenade.” He says. “Went off in my hand.”

You lean forward, press your lips to the first of the scars and kiss it, drag your lips along to the second, and then the third. At the fourth you let your tongue dart out, tasting the skin at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, salty and warm. He stands stock still as you do so, hands resting at your hips, fingertips gripping the flesh there tight enough to leave bruises. He sighs at the feel of your tongue against his skin, the insistent press of your mouth to his collarbone, your teeth, scraping at the tendon that jolts in his neck.

This time, when you reach for the button of his jeans he helps you, pops the first button, drags the zipper down and pushes them off his hips, revealing thick thighs corded with muscle, dusted with dark hair. He kicks the jeans the rest of the way off, steps forward again into the circle of your hips, letting you knead the thick flesh of his ass, pull him against you so that his hot length is pressed to the crotch of your shorts, two pieces of thin cotton the only thing separating you.

You kiss up the column of his throat, press your teeth to his ear lobe, and are rewarded with a soft groan that sends pleasure sparking up your spine again, cunt clenching down on nothing. His cock twitches against you when you lick a stripe along the underside of his jaw. You fit your lips back to his. This kiss is sloppy and uncoordinated, teeth clashing, his strong nose pressed to yours, one of his hands fisting in your hair, gripping tight at the ponytail at the base of your neck, holding you to him. You shuffle on the counter, pull your shorts off and down to join his jeans and shirt on the tiled floor.

“Take them off,” You say into his mouth, needy fingers sliding into the waistband of his briefs, seeking the length of him.

He does as you ask, bending to push them down, cock dipping and slapping up against his stomach as he frees it. He’s big, thick and beautiful, veins standing out against the shaft, precum beading at the tip. He hisses into your open mouth when you wrap your fist around him and stroke slowly up and down, thumb seeking out his slit, spreading his arousal and yours over it and down his length.

“Jesus, darlin’,” He sighs against the side of your neck, stubble rough against you, his hands seeking out the weight of your tits again, pressing open mouthed kisses against your skin.

You pull him back against you, press the blunt head of him to your slick entrance and watch him watch himself sink inside you, inch by inch, stretching you open. The burn of it is intoxicating, his thick length opening you up, pressing inside deliciously, white-hot pleasure blossoming up through your body.

“Feels so good, Joel,” You tell him as he shakes against you, bottoming out and dragging himself out only to press back inside.

“Pussy’s so goddamn perfect,” He says, his voice almost cracking with the effort of it.

“Please, Joel,” you hiss, “harder, please.”

The sound he makes then is animalistic, something between a grunt and a growl, teeth clenched, jaw pressed hard to your neck. He tightens his grip on your hips, anchors you to the counter and starts pounding into you. The strength of him is something to behold, his hips snapping into yours, muscles of his back shifting and clenching beneath your grasping hands.

“So fucking good,” he groans, “wanna stay inside you for the rest of my fucking life, darlin’.”

You don’t know how he’s so articulate; it’s all you can do to hold on to his shoulders and let him fuck you, whimpers and moans pouring from your open lips as he does, the slap of his hips against yours filthy in the otherwise silent house. When he slows his thrusts again he pulls back from you to watch where you’re joined, eyes dark, perspiration beading on his forehead. There’s a vein in his neck that’s pulsing visibly, a drop of sweat trickling down beside it, charting a course through patchy stubble. He reaches between your bodies, splays his hand over your mound and presses his thumb to your clit.

“Yes, Joel, please, God.”

“I can feel how close you are, darlin’” He says, “can feel you gripping me so tight.”

He strums his thumb over the swollen bundle of nerves, drawing small, tight circles that have you seeing stars within seconds, tension coiling inside you, ratcheting up until it breaks on a hard thrust of his hips, his cock hitting that spongy place inside you that sends pleasure right down to your toes. You come hard, fingernails digging into the hard flesh of his shoulders, Joel’s mouth clamped to your throat, teeth worrying the skin there, repeating the same phrase over and over as you come down.

There it is, there it is, good girl, I’ve got you.

He thrusts lazily into you as you slowly relax again, little aftershocks continuing for several long minutes, the blunt head of him hitting that same spot inside you again and again. You can tell he’s close now, his hands shaking where they’re gripping your hips again, face set in concentration, squeezing his eyes shut every few thrusts as though he’s desperately trying to hold himself back.

“Let go, Joel. Please,” You whisper, and he hisses through his teeth, pulls you bodily forward on the counter so that the angle changes and he can drive up into you, his pace quickening again.

“Jesus fucking Christ, darlin’” He rasps, thrusting into you once- twice- three more times.

He pulls out then, fist gripping the base of his cock as he paints your stomach and cunt with his cum, hot and thick. His face is a rapture, eyes pitch black, teeth bared with pleasure and need, the strong set of his jaw holding together what little restraint he has left.

He kisses you again after, drags kitchen roll from the holder to clean you up, presses sweet lips to your cheeks and temples, down your neck, across your chest, like he’s trying to taste the ecstasy that’s written across your heated skin.

Outside, dawn is quickly approaching. The weak rays of sunlight that filter into the kitchen illuminate the tan glow of Joel’s face and paint the scars on your bodies in pale yellow light. You don’t think anything’s ever looked more beautiful.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Princesse's Halloween

Hardersson x Daughter!Reader

Natalia Guijarro (OC) x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: The sixth of my Halloween-centric fics

"You're saying this is a family tradition?" Talia asks, one brow raised in confusion as you gather Kung up in your lap to feed him treats.

"Yes."

"And your mums did this all the time?"

"Yes," You laugh," Right up until I was born. Then they had to include me in it."

"And they just choose each other's costumes? Nothing fancy? And the other person has to wear it?"

"Yes."

Talia grins, looking you up and down and you get the funny feeling that you're missing something.

"Do you want to do?"

"I would love to do it." You girlfriend practically purrs out the words and now you definitely know you're missing something.

But Kung thumps his foot and Reina hisses on the balcony at the neighbours and Prins whines to go on his walk and you forget all about the look Talia had on her face when you told her about your family tradition.

It doesn't even come to mind again until you're welcoming your mothers in the day before Halloween.

"Oh," Talia says, throwing her bag down onto a spare chair as she comes in from her media commitments.

She's had a lot of those now that she's the Barcelona captain and you're secretly very thankful you don't have a captaincy. You don't know if you'd make a very good captain.

It's a dream, of course. Every wannabe footballer, pictures captaining their club and their country but you don't know if anyone would ever see you as a leader like that.

It's one thing to captain a youth team. It's something completely different to captain a senior team.

"I didn't realise you guys were coming today," Talia continues," I thought you were coming in a few days?"

"You'd be surprised by how many flights are packed after Halloween," Pernille throws over her shoulder, having completely taken over the stove in the short time she's been in your apartment.

Magda's over by one of the shelves, staring intently at Rocky like she's willing him to blow up with her eyes. "It's awful. There was a baby on our flight. It wouldn't stop crying. Who brings a baby into business class?"

You laugh. "You've gotten grumpy in your old age, Morsa," You say fondly.

"We didn't travel with you at all!"

"You did," You say," I used to go to camp with Momma."

Magda flicks her hand dismissively. "Yeah but you were a well behaved baby. You barely cried." She looks over at Talia, nose wrinkled. "I bet you cried a lot."

Talia grins, more of a smirk really as Reina clambers all over her. "And tantrums. They're the stuff of legend in my family. Completely blew Patri's tantrums out of the water."

"Yeah, well-"

"Must you two do this every time?" Pernille asks, plating up food and opening some drinks. "We get it. You're 'enemies'. Can we just skip this bit and get to the point where you're bonding over being remarkably similar?"

Talia and Magda exchange a look.

"You always ruin my fun," Magda complains good-naturedly, sitting down at the table," But fine. Only because I love you." She leans over to kiss Pernille square on the lips.

"Hey!" You say," If you banned PDA for us, no PDA for you! No kissing at my table!"

The meal is delicious as always.

Talia doesn't think for a moment that Magda was the better cook from your childhood no matter how many times you insist she was.

After cleaning up and a few movies, you finally remember that look a few weeks ago. The look that Talia gave you when she agreed to pick out your costume this year.

Magda and Pernille had gone first with Pernille choosing a cute tiger onesie for Magda and Magda choosing a massive, inflatable chicken costume for Pernille that nearly didn't fit through the doorway when she came in wearing it.

You'd chosen a fairly goofy looking vampire costume for your own girlfriend, complete with a set of fangs that glow in the dark.

It's only when you get changed into the costume that Talia chose for you, that you remember that god awful smirk she wore when you explained to her your family tradition.

"Er..." You look at yourself in the mirror, trying to pull down the skirt of your nurse's outfit. "Talia, are you sure this is everything? It's...Kind of short..."

You can hear Talia cough, movement outside the door and then her head is popping in.

"I...er...bought this before I found out your parents were coming. You look good though."

"So I take it this is the full costume."

"You look very good as a sexy nurse," Talia says, grinning back at you in the mirror.

You purse your lips in thought. "Yes, I do." You turn, passing her in the doorway. "I'm looking forward to hearing how you're going to explain this one to my mothers."

[ew-selfish-art]

Dp x dc AU - If the Internation Space Station orbits the Earth 16 times a day, then so does the Watchtower.

Danny’s on track to move out of his parent’s house and move to Gotham for college (He swears that Sam bribed the board to let him in- and she wasn’t even going to that university!) but the dorms don’t open for another three days and he cannot wait to escape. Seeing his parents try to perfect yet another weapon to use against him while he changed out the ecto filters on the portal was too much. He’s completely over the idea of staying when he already has everything packed and ready to go.

The solution? Take all his boxes into his haunt in the Ghost Zone, leave them there and then spend some time in camping in space. He’s already explored the Infinite Realms enough to be bored of it for a minute (not to mention he wants to avoid getting more ‘favors’ to do from Clockwork) and hell, he just wants to see some stars.

He grabs his tent, a sleeping bag and all the food and things he could need and brings it into the atmosphere with him. Keeping it all tethered to him, Danny stays in a fixed position above Gotham (Cause that’s where he’s going next, duh) and treats himself to some quality Me-time.

Only problem is that several times a day he has to make himself intangible while he lets satellites and things pass through. Easy enough and honestly pretty interesting to observe as a wannabe engineering student.

He doesn’t know when exactly it happened the first time- but it turns out the Heroes of Earth all congregated in a satelite office building? It was bigger than the ISS! What the heck!?

Going intangible but not invisible, the JL spot Danny and are incredibly confused how an ‘Alien’ teen just happens to appear in their meeting rooms disappearing at the rate (slowly but surely) of the Watchtower moving through space. Was that camping gear? How was he roasting a marshmallow? Did propane camping stoves even work in space??

16 times a day they get the opportunity to ask Danny a few questions. He mostly ignores them or gives them joke answers. Eventually Martian Manhunter phases through the Watchtower to join him.

They talk about how hard transition periods in life can be and having strained relationships with family. J’ohn returns to the watchtower on its next cycle and reports that the kid is just fine, being an adult is just a hard thing to do.

[achromatophoric]

Bianca: Did you hear? The furs who posted that nude edit of Addams are all in the infirmary.

Divina: Yeah! The tea is that they were all forced to eat their own uh— you know.

Yoko: Classic Wednesday. Gross and excessive. But those jerks definitely deserved it. It’ll take months for their junk to grow back.

The girls shudder at the thought. A moment later Enid skips up with a bag slung over one shoulder.

Enid: Hiya! What’s up?

Bianca: Just talking about your worse half. Speaking of, where is she?

Enid: Oh, she’s been gone all weekend. Some family thing.

Bianca/Divina/Yoko: *synchronized double-take*

Enid: Anyways! I’m just here to return the stuff I borrowed yesterday. *unzips bag*

Enid: Here’s your camping stove, B. Divina, your nice chef’s knife. And Yoko, your wok.

Bianca/Divina/Yoko: 😦😦😦

Enid: Thanks so much! Now I gotta go put together an edit for Willa. See ya! *skips away*

Bianca: You don’t think…?

Divina: *stares at her knife* No. No way that she…

Yoko: 😑

Yoko: Imma get a new wok.

[julietsf1]

Chef's Kiss... but Maybe Not the Cooking - Franco Colapinto x Reader

Summary: Franco might not be the best chef, but that doesn't ruin the night (1.2k words)

Warnings: None :) wholesome vibes

AN: reminder to check your smoke alarm batteries!! kisses <3

__________________

“Are you sure you don’t need help?” I called out, eyeing Franco with a mix of amusement and mild concern as he confidently moved around the small kitchen. His apron—bright red and definitely way too small—barely covered his front, leaving the rest of him looking like he’d outgrown it by several sizes.

Franco turned to me with a grin that oozed confidence, waving me off like he had it all under control. “Help? Please, I’ve got this. You’re in for the best dinner of your life, mi amor.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. His green eyes were sparkling with energy, despite the ridiculous apron that was comically snug around his waist. His fluffy brown hair, still slightly damp from his shower, bounced with every exaggerated movement he made as he whisked something in a bowl.

“I’m serious!” he continued, pointing the wooden spoon in my direction, like he was daring me to doubt him. “This pasta is going to blow your mind. My abuela used to make it for us, and I swear, the whole family would fight over it.”

I leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching him in full-on ‘Franco Chef Mode,’ which mostly consisted of him yapping enthusiastically and throwing ingredients into the pan with dramatic flair. “Sounds amazing,” I teased. “You sure your abuela didn’t mention anything about using a bigger apron?”

He glanced down at his too-small apron and smirked. “I think it looks great,” he quipped with a wink, “Makes me look extra muscular.” With that, he turned back to the stove, tossing onions into the pan like a pro. Well, a very confident, slightly chaotic pro.

“So, where was I?” Franco rambled on, stirring the onions with a flourish. “Ah, sí. My abuela always had a secret ingredient for this dish—made it the best in all of Argentina.”

“Let me guess,” I said, already knowing what was coming. “Love?”

“Exactly!” He spun around, pointing the spoon at me again like he’d just revealed the greatest culinary secret of all time. “You’re catching on. It’s the love that makes it special.”

I chuckled, shaking my head as I watched him. He was talking a mile a minute, bouncing between stories about his family and random facts about the pasta, his enthusiasm filling every corner of the kitchen.

“Oh! And one time I tried making this while camping with my cousins,” he continued, stirring the pan with far too much confidence. “We had no pans, no stove, nothing! So we made this big firepit ourselves, and I swear, we nearly set the tent on fire. But the pasta? Still amazing. Not to brag, but it was probably the best meal ever made on a camping trip.”

I laughed, unable to help myself. “Really? Best camping meal ever, huh?”

“Absolutely,” he said with a nod, his voice filled with pride. “I think my cousins still talk about it to this day. Of course, they might have been a bit crazy from hunger after the hike and the whole nearly-burning-the-tent-down incident, but I’m pretty sure it was my cooking skills.”

“Uh-huh,” I teased, my eyes flicking to the stove, noticing the onions beginning to smoke. “Are you sure we’re not about to have a repeat of the tent fire here?”

Franco waved me off without even looking. “No way, mi amor. I’ve got this under control. Trust me, once I add the garlic and—wait, did I add the garlic yet? No, no, we’re good. Anyway, as I was saying, the key to any great dish is improvisation. You have to feel the ingredients, let them tell you what they need. You can’t follow a recipe too strictly, you know?”

“Uh-huh…” I tried to hide my smile, but the smell of something burning was unmistakable now.

“So, this one time in Argentina—”

“Franco!” I finally cut in, pointing toward the stove. “The onions!”

His eyes widened in shock. “Mierda!” He lunged for the stove, but it was too late. The onions were charred beyond recognition. With a dramatic sigh, he grabbed the pan, lifting it up to inspect the damage. “Okay, so maybe... I overestimated the heat a bit.”

I laughed, covering my mouth with my hand. “A bit?”

Franco turned to me with a sheepish grin, still holding the smoking pan. “Hey, it’s all part of the process, right? Even the greatest chefs burn something every now and then.” He set the pan down with a shrug. “You know, I think this is fate telling us we should be eating takeout instead.”

“Oh, is that what it’s telling us?” I teased, stepping closer to peer into the burnt remains of his ‘famous’ recipe. “Your abuela’s going to be so proud.”

Franco groaned dramatically, setting the pan down with a defeated sigh. “Okay, so maybe my abuela wouldn’t be proud of this particular attempt.” He looked at me with that same sheepish grin, charming as ever despite the burnt onions. “But next time, I’ll definitely get it right.”

I raised an eyebrow, giving the mess on the stove a pointed glance. “Next time? Are you sure you’re up for it?”

He chuckled, pulling me closer by the waist, his hands warm against my skin. “I’m always up for a challenge, mi amor. Besides, I make up for it in other ways.” He leaned in, brushing his lips against mine in a soft, teasing kiss that left me smiling.

“Is that so?” I teased, tugging playfully on the string of his too-small apron. “Because right now, all I see is a confident chef... with no dinner.”

Franco smirked, his green eyes twinkling with mischief. “Good thing I’m great at improvising, then. How about this: I’ll make it up to you with pizza—takeout, of course. No burnt onions, I promise.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You’re really going for the easy option, huh?”

“Hey,” he said, leaning back to look at me, his grin widening. “Sometimes the best plan is knowing when to call it quits.” He pulled out his phone, already scrolling through the takeout options. “So, what’ll it be? Pizza? Sushi? Anything you want, I’ve got you covered.”

I couldn’t help but smile as I rested my head against his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body against mine. “Pizza sounds perfect.”

He laughed, wrapping his arm around me and kissing the top of my head. “Deal. But I’ll still win you over with my cooking skills one day. You’ll see.”

“Mm, we’ll see about that,” I teased, grinning as I pulled him in for another kiss—this one deeper, slower. His hand slid up my back, pulling me closer until there was no space between us, the warmth of his touch sending a flutter through my chest.

When we finally pulled apart, I smiled up at him, pretending to be unimpressed. “Okay, so maybe you’re better at this than cooking.”

Franco smirked, his confidence back in full force. “See? I told you I’m quite talented at some things.”

We settled onto the couch, Franco’s arm wrapped around me as he ordered the food. I snuggled into him, enjoying the warmth of his body against mine.

“You know,” I said after a moment, glancing up at him, “I think I’m kind of glad you burned the onions.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Glad? Really?”

I grinned, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. “Yeah. Because honestly? I much prefer cuddling up with you here on the couch.”

Franco laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he kissed the top of my head. “Well, in that case, I might have to burn dinner more often.”

[elodieunderglass]

Different tools for different purposes. Induction electric stoves, for example, are the simple best choice for homes with safety needs. Gas stoves are the simple best choice when camping, off-grid, living in a vehicle. A skilled cook can handle either and produce the exact same material; therefore your consideration should be your other needs.

[shadowdaddies]

Wings of Desire

Azriel x Reader

based on this request

Summary: meeting your mate’s family for the first time doesn’t go as you hoped

This can be read on its own, or as a part three | Part 1 | Part 2

Your body hummed with content, a soft smile gracing your lips as you savored the moment. The cup of tea in your hands spread warmth through your body with each sip, its spices filling your nose with a pleasant aroma as the sound of Azriel frying eggs on the stove echoed through the quiet cabin. 

Biting your lip, you admired how your mate’s exposed muscles moved, his large dark wings relaxed half-open at his back as he swayed slightly over the pan. Nearly a week had passed since you had recognized the mating bond, and while you hadn’t known Azriel long, you were already certain there was no one else you would rather spend your life with. 

Memories of the past week flooded your thoughts. From finding ways to show his tender affection towards you in the cabin - cooking for you, picking out books he thought you would enjoy, affirming you with his words - to being your fierce protector whenever you were training at the Illyrian camps, Azriel was a constant source of both excitement and security that you were shocked you had ever managed to live without.

A shadow curled around the spymaster’s ear, Azriel turning over his shoulder with a knowing smirk, hazel eyes darkening as they raked over you. 

“See something you like?” Azriel teased, his gravelly morning voice causing you to clench your legs instinctively. Flushing under his gaze, you licked a drop of tea from your lip, moving to rest your chin on your hand as you gazed up at your mate.

“I like everything I see,” you replied, your own tone breathless as Azriel turned, his tattooed chest bared to you as he scraped the eggs onto each of your plates. As he held a plate out towards you, you popped up in your seat, leaning across the table as you grabbed it. With a kiss to his lips, you whispered a “thank you,” the both of you taking your seats across from each other to eat.

Humming quietly, you spread strawberry jam across a piece of golden toast, grinning at the tart smell of the fruit as you raised it to your lips. Just as you crunched down on the bread, Azriel cleared his throat, drawing your gaze back to his.

Hazel eyes honed in on you, a thick swallow working down the Illyrian’s throat before he reached a scarred thumb to the corner of your mouth. It was a challenge to focus your breathing as you watched Azriel draw his thumb away, his tongue flicking out against the jam he’d collected from your lips before wrapping his own around the digit and sucking.

Seemingly oblivious to what he was doing to you, Azriel cleared his throat once more before speaking. 

“I would like to take you to Velaris.” He spoke so casually, leaning against the counter as he used the side of his fork to cut through an egg, scooping it onto a piece of his toast.

He had told you of Velaris last night - his safe haven, treasured home where he lived with his family. It struck you then, what a monumental moment this was for him - for the both of you - as the spymaster of the Night Court offered to bring someone from another court to his home. 

But you both knew that you weren’t just ‘someone.’ And you both knew that what was happening between you two was not a fling. This was Life Altering, World Tipped on its Axis, Head over Heels, Love.

You must have been quiet for a moment too long, because Azriel’s relaxed demeanor vanished in favor of widened, anxious eyes and a stiff back. 

“I just mean that I would like for you to meet my family... And, if you are comfortable...” he trailed off, searching for words. “I would just like to show you my home.”

You couldn’t hold back the bright smile that took over your face, the joy that could not be held back as you imagined it. So far, your relationship with Azriel had been limited to your stay at the cabin and spy work. But this, this was real. This was confirmation that this incredible, beautiful male was not a dream, but your mate, and you could have a future with him. 

Leaping up from your seat, you ran to embrace Azriel, his warm chest relaxing in your hold as he returned it. Leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss to your hair, murmuring against you. “So, is that a yes?”

You giggled against him, noting the rapid thumping of his heart at the sound as you said, “Yes. Of course I would love to, Azriel.” 

An overwhelming sense of bliss flowed through the bond as you felt Azriel’s lips curve into a smile against your hair before tilting your head to look up at him. “We will go there for dinner tonight, then, if that is alright. Rhysand and Feyre are having dinner with the family at their home.”

You had met the High Lord and High Lady twice now, both in meeting with Tarquin and at the camps. Their kindness had surprised you, the Night Court’s leader nothing like his reputation. With an eager nod, you suddenly found yourself anxiously awaiting this evening, overcome with the excitement of meeting Azriel’s loved ones. 

~~~

Adjusting the straps of your gauzy periwinkle dress, you thanked the Cauldron for Emerie. Dressing for a nice dinner was not something you had planned when you left for Illyria, but neither was Azriel. Your wings twitched in excitement as you took in your appearance in the mirror. Gowns weren’t something you wore often, and you were astonished at how beautiful you felt.

Boots scuffed, rubber soles hitting the wood harshly as the sound of liquid sloshing and splattering perked your ears. Turning over your shoulder, a gasp escaped you at the sight of Azriel, one hand on the floor in front of him as the other held a nearly-empty glass. 

While you had not known Azriel long, you were certain that tripping was an uncommon occurrence for the spymaster. “Azriel, are you okay?” you breathed out, rushing forward to kneel next to him on the floor. 

His cheeks flushed a now familiar pinkish hue that made you melt. Az simply gaped at you, awestruck as his eyes shone with emotion. “You are the most beautiful sight. I am not worthy of your presence,” he admitted, almost more to himself as he stayed dazed in front of you.

The sound of your laughter, like morning bells that awoke his soul, brought Azriel back to reality. You shook your head, standing as you offered your hand to help him stand with you. 

“I will have Feyre paint that image one day. You, standing in the mirror - a female so ethereal that everything around her is abhorrently ordinary. You are incredible,” Azriel breathed the last words, a scarred thumb rubbing your cheek as he pulled you in for a kiss. Lightning shot through your bones, as though his kiss was an effervescent light that gave you life. 

Reluctantly, the both of you pulled away, catching your breath as Azriel wrapped his arms around you. With a nod from you, he wrapped you both in darkness, carrying you away to the City of Starlight. 

Darkness faded away, Azriel pulling back slightly as he took your hand in his and turned towards a large mansion. It was understatedly beautiful, clearly a modest home where the High Lord and High Lady often hosted family. Behind the home, you could see the mountains upon which you stood moments ago, now playing the part of a backdrop in a stunning painting. 

Azriel led you forward, hand sliding to the small of your back as he held you close in a protective, claiming manner that made you smile with pride. As though she sensed your presence, the High Lady swung open the front door, a smile on her full lips as she greeted you. 

“Hello! You look beautiful, please come in,” Feyre greeted, catching you off-guard with a warm hug before moving to greet Azriel the same. Rhys came up behind her, the lack of power emanating from him making the male seem almost normal. It was jarring to see them like this - so domestic and comfortable, a true family. 

The couple guided you and Azriel down a grand hallway, the home simple in decoration with the exception of grand, beautiful paintings that lined the walls. “Those are all painted by Feyre,” Azriel whispered in your ear.

“They’re beautiful,” you whispered back. Raising your voice slightly, you gushed to Feyre as you passed a picture of Rhysand on the balcony of the Summer Court palace. “Your art is so beautiful. I didn’t realize how talented you are.”

With a small laugh, Feyre waved off your compliments. “It’s a nice outlet. I like to commemorate moments with my family that way,” she explained, ushering you into a dining room where several people stood around a table. 

You weren’t usually nervous when meeting new people, but finding yourself face-to-face with your mate’s family, you suddenly became very conscious of everyone, intent on making a good impression. Cassian greeted you first, the war general much more jovial than he had been when you’d met prior in training. He introduced you to his wife, Nesta, who greeted you with a polite, knowing smile. “I’ve heard much about you from Azriel... and Emerie,” she added with a wink, her eyes moving to Azriel as the stunning Valkyrie pulled him in for a hug.

You laughed at her comment, gesturing to your dress. “Emerie lent me this dress for tonight, actually.” Nesta opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted.

“It is a beautiful dress,” a small voice sounded from Azriel’s other side. You stepped around your mate to see a petite female, similar to Nesta and Feyre but breathtakingly striking as her brown doe eyes assessed you. Her stiff form betrayed her kind words, tension building in the room as everyone turned towards her.

Fae instincts took over, your need to claim your mate guiding your hand to grip Azriel’s arm more firmly than necessary. “Thank you, very much...?” you replied, a polite but questioning look prompting the gorgeous fae for her name. 

“I’m Elain - Feyre and Nesta’s sister,” she explained with that same strained politeness that had your hackles rising. You didn’t miss the scathing look Rhys shot towards Azriel, everyone else seemingly oblivious as the High Lord bode everyone to take their seats.

Azriel pulled out your chair, placing a kiss to your hand before taking the seat next to you. The muscles in his hand stiffened slightly, alerting you to look around him where you saw Elain taking the seat on his other side.

While everyone else continued to eat their meals, enjoying the casual conversation, you could hardly breathe as Elain continued whispering to Azriel, giggling at everything he said. Rhys watched you with caution, sending an encouraging smile as Nesta attempted to make conversation with you about the books you had been reading. 

The world stopped turning when Elain put her hand on Azriel’s thigh, your vision red as an animalistic growl left your lips. Everyone in the table turned towards you in alarm, surprise on their faces as they took in the situation. 

The usual dark power that Rhysand emanated returned, bringing a chilly air to the room as he spoke in a deathly calm voice. “The three of you,” he nodded at you, Azriel, and Elain, “come with me.” Like ashamed children, you left your seat, yanking your hand from Azriel’s when he attempted to reach for it.

Fists clenched, you stormed from the room and followed the High Lord into his office, his eyes matching yours in their glowing fury. Azriel timidly clicked the wooden door shut behind him, just in time for you and Rhys to shout at him in unison.

“What the fuck, Azriel?” You screamed, both regret and pleasure snaking through you at how he and Elain flinched at your anger. 

Rhys put a placating hand on your arm, stepping forward as his power granted him a raw authority over the room. “Azriel, it appears as though you did not inform Elain,” violet eyes flicked towards you, “or your mate, of the situation.” 

Elain’s jaw fell slack, brown eyes lining with silver as her long curls whipped around her face. She glared at Azriel. “I thought that mates didn’t to you, Azriel. At least, that’s what you let me believe when you pursued me despite my having a mate.”

It was as though you had been shoved in ice water, floundering for breath in the shock as you began to comprehend the situation. Your voice cut through the air like a knife, Azriel flinching visibly as you spoke. “You are in a relationship?” 

It was Elain and Azriel’s turn to speak in unison. 

“Yes,” she spoke.

Just as firmly as he said, “no.”

The two of them stared at each other for a long moment, hatred shining in their eyes before Elain broke into tears. “Of course not,” she whispered. “I should have known. I’m a pretty face, but not worth fighting for. Isn’t that right?” Her voice broke on the last words before the beautiful female ran from the room, leaving heavy hearts behind.

Rhysand only paused for a moment before following Elain from the room, closing the door behind him in a silent request for you and Azriel to speak alone. A long moment passed as you stared at the door, half-ready to walk through it yourself when Azriel sounded next to you.

Daring to turn your head, your heart cleaved in two at the sight of tears running down your mate’s cheeks. His eyes never left yours, body angled fully towards you as he stayed determined to remain with you. He spoke slowly, carefully, in a measured tone. “I did not have a relationship with Elain. There was mutual interest, and she clearly thought it was more than I did. We never even kissed.”

Hating how your heart softened hearing that, you began to pace back and forth. Thoughts formed, and you stopped in front of Azriel with anger and sorrow in your voice. “She has a mate. So clearly you don’t care about what that - what this - means in the same way that I do if you were with her.”

“NO.” Azriel spoke louder than you had ever heard the quiet male. He sighed, walking towards you cautiously, reaching out a hand before dropping it cautiously. “I didn’t care about mates, because I didn’t think I would ever have one. I have been labeled as ‘different’ my entire existence - mocked, ridiculed, tortured for it. I settled for what was in front of me because I thought I would never find someone so perfect. Not just perfect for me, but the most incredible, kind, clever, ethereal female I have ever met. I still do not know how the Cauldron could bless me with you, but I will fight until my dying breath to keep you happy. I am sorry that I hurt you. I promise to spend the rest of my life loving you.”

A tear fell down your cheek at his words, sniffling through a small laugh as you replied. “And I promise to spend the rest of my life showing you how worthy you are of extraordinary love, Azriel.”

A burning sensation at the tips of your wings drew a gasp from you - your eyes searching Azriel as you saw dark swirls of ink appear on the tips of his wings. “That makes a bargain,” he whispered. You looked up, seeing swirls of black decorating the tips of your white wings, a beautiful contrast to their color. “I’ve never seen a bargain mark left on wings before,” he murmured, his finger lightly tracing the marks on your feathers.

You bit your lip, head growing dizzy with pleasure at the feeling when Azriel pulled away, smirking. Stepping closer to him where you were now chest to chest, you brought your fingers to trace the marks on his wings, reveling in his reaction to your touch. “Well, there’s never been anyone like us,” you whispered, pulling him in for a passionate kiss, breaking apart as you both smiled too broadly to continue.

“You need to speak with Elain, and apologize,” you stated. Azriel nodded in agreement, taking your hand in his as he opened the door to leave the study. You were shocked to find Azriel’s family all standing around, turning towards the two of you and your matching tattoos with intrigued looks. 

With a glance back at you, Azriel broke the silence. “I need to go speak with Elain.”

Amused smiles filled the room, knowing glances being exchanged. Feyre let out a small, almost choking laugh. “Maybe another time, Azriel. Lucien stopped by. He and Elain went for a walk.”

You didn’t miss Cassian’s especially broad grin at the mention, but dismissed everyone else when Azriel turned towards you. “I will talk to her another time, love. For now, let me show you Velaris,” he promised, and you gave his hand a loving squeeze as you nodded, following him outside towards the city and your future.

[samkerrworshipper]

nails | katie mccabe x reader

warnings: absolute smutty filth, cunnilingus, dildos, strap ons, fluffiness

Katie clunked her way through the hallway, so incredibly desperate just to set her eyes on you. She had just gotten back from Ireland camp, and you were always the best part of returning. You made her feel at home, no matter where she was. The warmth of your smile, the way you made any room light up, the way your body felt against hers, the way you did absolutely everything to make Katie feel like she was as exceptional as you thought she was. She slung her bag down next to the front door, slipping her shoes off and toeing them onto the rack that you had put beside the door to try and organise Katie’s slightly excessive shoe collection.

You heard the front door closing behind her, and felt an overwhelming happiness wash over you. You waited patiently by the stove top, stirring the pot of Carbonara, one of Katie’s favourites, your dish almost done and ready for the two of you to sit down and eat. You always loved to welcome Katie home with a meal that reminded her of home, reminded her of family and memories with you. The carbonara was an old recipe of her mothers, that had been given to you when Katie had sustained an ankle injury and had been specifically yearning for her family and her mothers food. You’d tried your hardest to make the house as homey as possible, lighting candles all over your lounge room and kitchen, folklore playing faintly in the background, most of the lights turned down so that the house was nice and calm. It was always smartest to stimulate Katie as little as possible after camp, she was so tired, so overworked, so sore from the tireless work of captaining her team fearlessly, when she came home you tried to let her be as vulnerable with you as she needed.

You shivered a little bit when Katie’s arms wrapped around your waist, around one of her hoodies that she’d left you with as a reminder of her. She pressed her head into your neck, taking a deep breath of you, your scent, your warmth, your body, you. She could get drunk off of just your scent, off of your energy, you were absolutely everything to her, everything to her in every single universe.

“Smells good.”

Katie’s voice was a rumble against your neck, an almost silent murmur quietened by the skin her lips were pressed against. She pressed a litter of pecks across the skin, finding solace in the feeling of your golden skin.

“It’s almost done.”

Katie slipped her hands under her hoodie that you were wearing, there was nothing she loved more than seeing you in her clothes, you went from a 10 to an 11 when you chose to adorn one of her old Ireland hoodies or jerseys when you came to watch her play. She raked her hands up and down your hips, positively enraptured by the feeling of having you back in her arms. All of a sudden though, you pivoted on your heels, turning with wide eyes to look at Katie, one of your own hands dropping to grasp hers and drag it out from under the material, revealing something absolutely treacherous.

“What the fuck are these?”

Katie’s lip rose up into a smirk, the tips of her lips curving upwards as she studied the complete shock and horror that had washed over your face, your eyes searching her hands furiously as you took in Katie’s new addition.

“Whatcha talking about darl?”

You glared at Katie, pulling her hand up to her own face so she was forced to look at the monstrosities that were now attached to your girlfriend.

“Are you cheating on me?”

Katie’s face dropped at your accusation.

“Darling of course not, why would you ask that?”

Katie Irish drawl was heavy as she rushed to defend herself, you just glared back at her.

“Girlfriend code, we don’t do long nails, what the actual fuck are these?”

You glared at Katie’s bright green, glittery talons. They were quite pretty, you could admit that, but they were fucking long, and terrifyingly sharp looking, the square cut gel reflecting and staring back up at you like a wild animal about to attack.

“We all got them after the Albania game baby, to celebrate, what was I supposed to do?”

Your eyes widened in absolute shock and annoyance at your girl's puppy dog eyes.

“Say no, say that your girlfriend is going to make you sleep on the couch until you go and get them removed.”

Katie’s pout only grew bigger, her eyes positively shining as she bit her lip and frowned at you.

“Baby, are you scared that I can’t pleasure you without my hands?”

Your breath hitched in your throat as your eyes almost burst open with the implication from Katie’s words.

“If you think that I’m letting you anywhere near my pussy with those things as extremities than your fucking wrong McCabe, I’m serious about you sleeping on the couch until their removed from your body.”

Katie just rolled her eyes, wrapping her arms around your waist only for you to shake them off and turn back to the stove, returning to stirring the pasta and sauce mix in the pot.

“Baby, you are seriously doubting my abilities if you think that I rely on my fingers to make you happy.”

The sex when Katie got back from camp was incomparable, absolutely exquisite. The two of your bodies just connected, and when you’d been away from each other for extended periods of time re learning the feeling of each other's body was always unbeatable, there was a relaxed rhythm to it, something so incredibly beautiful and real about it. It was raw, sometimes there were tears, or sweet nothings whispered under the light of the stars and confessions of love. It was everything that the poets wrote about, everything that you heard about when your grandparents told you about falling in love with someone. That was why you felt so royally betrayed in this moment, you could never be mad at Katie for very long, even on the days she decided to be a complete dickhead, but right now you were pissed off and if Katie was smart she would have left you alone, but she decided to push it.

She entwined her hands around your waist, hanging them loosely below your hips and before you could protest, pressing her lips to your neck and beginning to suck on the skin. You froze at the complete shock from the sensation, there was nothing you wanted more than to give in, but the stubbornness in your veins wouldn’t allow you too. You shook Katie off of your body.

“The table is set, I’m about to plate up, go and sit down.”

Your verse was stern, almost mom-like, something that sent shivers down Katie’s spine and had her heading directly towards your dining table, in an uncharacteristically shy manner. She hated when she pissed you off, hated it even more when it was for particularly stupid reasons.

She wasn’t left by her lonesome for long, you followed her to the table fairly quickly, two bowls of pasta and garlic bread in your hands. You carried them like a waitress, a talent that Katie had never been sure how’d you’d acquired but she was grateful all the same. You placed her bowl down in front of her before taking your own seat, directly across from Katie.

“So, how was the flight?”

As much as you were ticked off with Katie, dinner was always a truce. It was the half an hour every night that the two of you had to yourselves, where you could talk about your day or the game or anything else that was going on. It was what you and Katie had agreed on when you’d gotten married, that no matter how hard either of your days had been, you would always sit down for dinner together.

“We had some turbulence, but it was fine.”

Katie was quick to tuck into her meal, she always was, you swore she was always hungry.

“How are you feeling, body, arm, head? I could have picked you up from the airport if you needed me too.”

You were constantly worried about Katie. As the Arsenal physio, and as her wife. You hated always being the worried wife on the sidelines, especially watching games like the Albania one were the conditions were anything but playable.

“I didn’t want to bother you, the tricep is sore and I have to go get scans tomorrow just to check that it hasn’t worsened any more.”

You nodded, you already knew that, you were Katie’s physio, you were consulted on all of her medical things but it comforted you somehow hearing anything come out of Katie’s mouth, you could spend hours just listening to her voice filling a room.

“You’d never bother me, better than you catching an uber or whatever.”

Communication with Katie was an ongoing work in progress, even years into your relationship she still struggled to voice her needs sometimes. She was just the kind of girl who always worried about everyone but herself, she was always obsessed with putting your needs above her own, and it drove you insane sometimes.

“It was fine, Lucy dropped me home. How have the pups been?”

You and Katie fell into comfortable conversation whilst you ate, talking about your work with the acl crew and Katie’s work with the Irish team, it was a comfortable lull, just pure interest between the two of you.

“I’ve set up a movie and snacks on the couch.”

The topic arose when the both of you had finished with dinner, Katie had tried to pick up the dishes but you refused, it was her night to relax and you were happy to deal with the dishes for one night.

Katie padded off to the lounge room and you rushed into the kitchen, rising off the dishes and sliding them into the dishwasher as quickly as humanly possible before jogging through to the living room to join Katie on the couch.

She welcomed you with open arms, draping the blankets over your body before clicking play on Happy Gilmore. You let Katie take the lead on wrapping her arms around you, her long strong arms enveloping you and making you seem like a dwarf in her arms.

You didn’t even make it through the starting credits before Katie’s hands started to roam, her nails travelling down from your hips, to your sweatpant covered thighs, then back up to your covered hips and ribs, slowly raking up and down. It was so slow that it was almost unnoticeable, especially underneath the fluffy blanket that the two of you were enjoying, but you felt it. You tried to ignore it, didn’t allow your body to react to Katie’s clear want, but when her hands made it to the inside of your thighs you couldn’t help but pivot from off of your ass, up onto your knees and straddling Katie’s hips.

“I told you no until those talons aren’t a part of you.”

You tried to keep your face as stern as possible, the voice you used with the girls on the team when you were working them through their pt plans in the gym.

“Baby, you can’t be serious, do you really think that I can’t please you without using my hands?”

You kept your face stern, even with the slightly taboo topic that Katie was broaching, that would normally have you breaking out into a fit of giggles or smiles.

“Katie, those things are fucking terrifying, what are they, one, two inches?”

You pulled her hands up again, measuring the lengths of her nails besides your own fingers, the extra extensions on her fingers almost being as long as the distance between your first knuckle and second one. It was terrifying, the kind of nails that drag queens wore. Katie and you had never had this issue, the both of you worked in professions that meant you couldn’t have long nails. Yours was personal preference, considering the amount of massages you gave every day it was just easier to keep your nails short, and normally Katie’s nails were short for football, so this problem had never arose, but now it was and it was horrific.

“Baby, there are things in our drawer that are far bigger, I never would have seen you as being scared of a little size, especially considering our dildo collection.”

You flushed at Katie’s cocky words, it was true, you weren’t exactly a stranger to bigger sized… toys, but her nails were hardly toys, they were fucking weapons.

“Katie I am not joking.”

She smirked from her position below you, a big broad grin that you so desperately wanted to kiss off of her face, but you kept your self restraint.

“But baby, I got you a new one whilst I was away, Ireland green like my nails.”

You shivered directly from your core, straight up to your spine, the trembles crossing across every bone and nerve in your body.

“Katie, go to your room.”

She rolled her eyes at your attempt at chastising her, she knew that you were on your last thread, so close to being tipped over the edge, she was so good at doing that, compromising you when you least wanted to.

“But baby, don’t you want to show me how good you can ride my dick?”

As soon as the words left her mouth you were a goner, and she knew it, she was so fucking cocky like that.

“Katie.”

Your words came out as a whine, something that Katie was slightly satisfied with but also took as her cue.

“What do you call me, baby? Don’t whine at me, you want me to show you how good I am without my hands? Then let me baby, let me treat your pussy so well and prove to you that I definitely don’t need my hands to please my wifey.”

Katie’s thick Irish accent was laid on so deep, just the way that made you drip from your core and everywhere.

“Daddy.”

This time you were rewarded by being silenced with her lips, her hips reaching upwards to meet your own, so she had the leverage to kiss you. It was a dominating kiss, one that Katie very quickly took control of, her tongue slipping into your mouth and brushing against the back of your mouth as she roughened the kiss and started to find rhythm in the movements against your lips. It was then, when you were at your very weakest that Katie’s hand reached up under your shirt, swiftly un-clipping your bra and her hands going directly to your nipples, toying with the metal bar almost immediately. It had been Katie’s idea for you to get them, and you happily agreed once you realised just how much it would please her. The process had been painful, and the recovery had been hell, but once they had healed they had easily become Katie’s favourite part of you. She loved every part of you, but absolutely no part of your body would compare to your boobs. One tug at the cold metal had you moaning openly into her mouth, it was almost embarrassing, the amount of control Katie had over you even from below you, but right now you weren’t really bothered, just completely obsessed with the feeling of having Katie’s undivided attention on you.

“Get up baby, let me get on my knees for you and show you exactly what this mouth can do.”

Katie removed her lips from your mouth pushing you up off of her hips so you were flung down onto the couch, Katie slipping off of the pillows and down onto the floor, directly onto her knees and not minding very much about the fact that her body seemed to ache a little bit more from her position. She didn’t waste any time thinking about her achy muscles though, instead getting straight to work and pulling your legs apart so she could sit in between your legs.

She reached for the hem of your sweatpants, finding absolutely zero pushback from you as you lifted up our hips to allow her to slip the pants and your thong out from under you. She was remwarded with the positively dripping sight of your pussy, your desire glistening all over your lips and the trimmed bush that covered your mound.

“So wet baby, and I haven’t even touched you, going to show you just how much I can do without these fingers.”

Katie’s hand snaked its way back up your stomach, finding it’s way back up to your boob and fondling it gently with her fingers and blunt nails. The sensation was amazing, something that you would never even dream of feeling.

“Katie please- just fucking do something.”

Katie’s eyes darted up to you, her head cocking at you.

“Baby, I know that you haven’t seen me in a few weeks, but that’s no way to ask me to help you out, you can either do it the nice way, and beg like a good girl, or you’ll get nothing at all.”

Katie’s spare hand fell to your thigh, kneading the skin gently with her thumb, looking up at you with patient eyes and a cocked eyebrow.

“Please daddy, please, please use your tongue on me and show me how good you can make me feel, please.”

Normally, when Katie was feeling like being a little bit tougher, when she was being calculated and cunning about riling you up she’d asked for more, but neither of you had the energy or patience for that, tonight just wasn’t one of the nights where you would do laps of teasing, tonight was about you having your brains fucked out by a very horny Katie.

“Such a good girl when you use your words, hmm?”

The feeling of Katie’s breath on your dripping warmth was incredible, but it was nothing compared to the feeling of her tongue connecting with your lips. Just because she didn’t feel like riling you up verbally didn’t mean that she wasn’t up to riling you up with her tongue, and she did just that. She started with the outside of your lips, her tongue flattening out to cover as much skin as possible, which should have been amazing, but it was nowhere near enough stimulation for you, and you told her as much with your hand securing on the roots of her ponytail and trying to direct her to the part of you that yearned for her the most.

Katie didn’t budge though, she was stubborn and didn’t let anyone boss her around in the bedroom, especially you. She pulsated her tongue against your skin, leaving you desperatw for more, and just when she began to feel your thighs clenching, seeking more, she finally met your pool of wetness.

You cried out in ecstasy, the sound of your moans filling your living room as your hands found whatever part of Katie, clutching onto her and holding on for dear life, enjoying the ride that was your pleasure high.

Katie’s tongue moved back and forth from your hole and sensitive bud, her intensity and approach changing between the two spots as she towed you closer to the edge, your moans and clenching hole a clear sign of the ecstasy cloud that you were approaching. Just as your moans started to get breathier, and your legs started to tighten around Katie’s head, did she remove her mouth. It was absolute agony for you, and you let her know with the annoyed cry that left your lips as soon as she lost contact with you.

“Fuck, Katie, fuck, not fair, was so close, fuck me.”

Katie smirked up at you, she knew that you wouldn’t love her for leaving you on the edge, but she also knew the two of you were far too tired to go for multiple rounds, and she wanted to rock your world in multiple ways before the both of you collapsed for the night, and if that meant depriving you of your orgasm once, then she wasn’t completely opposed.

“Go to the bedroom, strip on the bed, I think it’s about time I introduce you to our new friend.”

Even though you felt slightly legless on your fucked out body, you rushed off towards the master bedroom, terrified that if you took too long you would be robbed of whatever it was that Katie had planned for you. You flung her hoodie off and onto the floor of your bedroom, not really bothered whatsoever about the uncleanliness of your actions and more concerned with the wetness that was now dripping down your legs, a mixture of Katie’s slobber and your own arousal.

Just as you had climbed onto the bed, Katie sauntered in, and you swore that your eyes almost popped out of your head at the sight that you were gifted with, it was truly a picture worthy of being hung in the Louvre.

Your wife, standing butt ass naked in front of you, besides the deep Ireland green glittery dildo that was hanging from between her legs. You almost came just from the sight, a big lump developing in your throat as Katie strutted towards you. There was a lot to take in, the fact that she’d seemingly coordinated her nails with the dildo, or vice versa. The fact that it looked about two inches longer than anything you’d ever taken, and at least an inch wider, and the image that was Katie walking like a model on a runway directly to you. She had the cheshire grin plastered to her face, it only grew the closer she got to your bedside.

“Move, I want you to ride me, you can use the head board as support.”

You just nodded at her, like a complete goldfish as you shifted away from the pillows to allow her to take a seat against the head board, the dildo jutting up shamelessly from the spot between her legs.

“C’mon cowgirl, don’t make me wait.”

You jumped into action, climbing into Katie’s lap and hovering on top of the dildo, securing one of your hands on the edge of the headboard and one on Katie’s shoulder. It was then that she began to push you down onto the silicone dick, slowly impaling you on the bright green toy.

“Ngnh, fuck Daddy, so good, fill me up please.”

Katie could never say no to you, especially when you asked so politely, so she continued to ease you down onto the dick, allowing you to feel every single ridge and bump across the shaft and feel the stretch that your pussy was very quick to adjust to and accommodate.

It didn’t take much force from Katie to get you to take the whole dick, the centre of gravity doing most of the work to get you down and sat directly onto Katie. Once your pussy did suck in the whole thing, Katie allowed you to adjust for as long as you needed, her lips meeting your own in a bruising kiss that left both of your lips kiss swollen when you broke a part to begin moving.

Katie’s favourite position was having you ride her, there was something so personal about it, and she loved the reaction that it got from you.

Your knuckles turned ghost white as you began to slide up and down the length of Katie’s dildo, moans that were more sinful then the devil flowing freely from your mouth as you started to ride her and grind down against her hips. Katie just watched in awe and complete appreciation, the sight of you, an absolute sexual goddess of her dreams sliding up and down a glittery green dildo was something that she never would have even thought up in her wildest dreams. Your head thrown back in ecstasy, your long blonde locks flying in every which way as you began to ride out the high that you’d been so desperate for.

“Fuck-fuck, daddy can I cum? Please fuck, please can I cum all over your dick?”

Katie figured that she’d edged you once, and whilst she knew you could withstand far more than that, it wasn’t what either of you needed tonight, you needed tender kisses, sweet nothings, soft gestures that the two of you always shared after a little bit too long apart.

“Cum baby, I’ve got you.”

If your knuckles hadn’t already been white against the headboard then they whitened even further, complete overwhelming white that seemed to cloud your vision and put stars across your eyes as you shuddered in Katie’s arms, the overwhelming feeling of your orgasm washing over you and leaving you completely limp in her arms. Once you’d come down and the aftershocks had rid themself of your body Katie very gently lifted you up off of the toy and placed your boneless body down on the comforter beside her, slipping the harness of her hips quickly and then wrapping her arms directly around you, allowing you to waken from your haze in the warmth of her muscles and body.

“What did I say, I’m a woman of great talents even when my hands aren’t in use.”

Katie’s joke fell on almost deaf ears, your body to blissed out to even truly begin to acknowledge what she was saying to you.

“Shove it McCabe, unless you don’t want round two in the morning before you go to the nail salon then I’d move to cuddling your wife and telling her just how much you missed her and just what was going through your mind when you were buying that dildo.”

Katie’s face lit up, her arms lifting the cuvet over your bodies as she began to whisper all of rhe deep fantasies that had been playing through her mind in the time that you’d spent apart, fantasies that you were sure would be reenacted in the morning or tomorrow night after some much needed tlc.

[thatacotargirl]

Shadows and Surprises (5)

Part 5 of Azriel x Reader fanfic! I decided to change it up and add a new POV in to the mix, I hope you like it!

Summary: Azriel meets y/n at Rita's and spends a single night of passion with you before heading your separate ways. Only, the Mother had different ideas.

Warnings: pregnancy, previous injury, family trauma.

Tag list - @nickishadow139 @dee-writes-smut @minnieoo @st4r-girl-official @courtofjurdan @mirandasidefics @lilah-asteria @nyxbranwenn @impossibelle @mybestfriendmademe @hauntedstudentobservationus

Y/N POV

Your first night at the House of Wind had been a success. Azriel's family were nothing but welcoming to you, maybe with the exception of Amren, and you had never slept better. Your new bed felt like sleeping on clouds, a comfort you had never know - not to mention the handsome Illyrian sat at the end of it.

When you woke, Azriel was gone. You hadn't expected that he would stay, but a small part of you had hoped he maybe would. You felt the sadness creep up your throat and your eyes stung, threatening to spill, but you willed it away. Pregnancy hormones were making you much more emotional these days, and you had no real reason to be upset that Azriel chose not to stay in your bed last night.

Hauling yourself up, you change into a dark purple tank top, which you noticed was now rising slightly above your small, swollen stomach, and a pair of comfortable black trousers. Pulling your hair into a bun on the top of your head, you made your way down to the kitchen - the smell of waffles pulling your body in the right direction. You stepped in, and found Cassian standing at the stove.

"Good morning, Princess!", he called, pulling out the closest chair to him and gesturing for you to sit.

"Good morning, Cassian", you replied with a chuckle, your mouth watering. If you weren't careful, you knew you'd start drooling over the smell. Cassian saw your eyes, wide as saucers, staring at the pan he was using, and grinned.

"Your breakfast is coming up, don't worry. Gotta keep you and the baby well fed!". He was such a Mother Hen.

Cassian dished up a generous portion of waffles with a homemade blueberry compote and placed it on the table in front of you. He turned back to make another 2 plates.

"How did you sleep?", he asked.

"Like a baby!", you replied with a mouth full of waffle. Cassian only laughed as the door opened, and Azriel walked in. Your gave him a smile, a piece of waffle still hanging out of your mouth. Azriel grinned, walking over to you and tugging on the bit of waffle before putting it into his own mouth. All three of you froze, not entirely sure how to respond, until Cassian coughed and broke the tension.

"So, y/n, how would you fancy coming up to the roof to train with me?".

Azriel, having now grabbed his own plate of waffles, whipped his head around.

"She's pregnant, Cassian".

"Well no shit, Az", Cassian replied, giving you a look that made you giggle. "I've trained plenty of pregnant women in the camps, she's pregnant, not ill".

The idea, actually, did appeal to you. You grew up in the Illyrian camps, but your father never let you leave the family compound, so you had never been able to participate in training.

"Honestly, I'd like to".

"Then finish up! I mentioned the idea to Mor and she left you some of her exercise clothes in case you decided to join, I'll leave them in front of your door for you to change into".

You nodded, turning your attention back to your plate of waffles. If Cassian wasn't already handsome in his own right, the sheer fact that his cooking tasted like this elevated him to a whole different league. You let out a moan, shovelling more waffle into your mouth than you had space for, and watched Cassian and Azriel attempting to eat their own breakfasts without laughing.

-

You changed into a pair of Mor's dark red workout leggings and matching sports bra and headed up to the roof of the House of Wind, where you found Cassian waiting for you.

"Alright, we'll start on some basics. Focus on getting your balance in check and some light strength exercises. If you feel unwell at any time, stop and tell me, ok?".

And so the morning was spent. You fell over more times that you cared to admit, got a cramp in your left calf, and almost upchucked your waffles trying to hold some of Cassian's ridiculous balance poses. But, it was fun. You were enjoying your time with Cassian, who was nothing but a kind, funny, gentleman.

"When do I get to do something fun? Like try to punch you?", you asked, heaving your breaths as you balanced your hands on your knees. Cassian only laughed.

"Go grab a drink", he said, pointing to a water fountain built into the wall behind him. As you walked towards it, you heard a sharp intake of breath, and spun around to see Cassian staring at you.

"All ok?", you ask.

Cassian walked towards you slowly and reached out his hand, gently turning you around to face away from him.

"Who did this?".

-

Cassian's POV

Y/n slowly turned back to face him, her face drained of all colour.

"It's nothing, Cassian", she whispered. He could see the tears forming in her eyes and his heart broke for the pain she was clearly carrying with her. He pulled her into his arms and held her.

"It's not nothing, y/n. I get if you don't want to tell me, that's entirely your right, it's your story, but don't diminish your pain and call it nothing - you matter".

He felt her shoulders shake as she sobbed into his leathers. Cassian wished that he had daemati gifts and could call for Azriel right now, who he knew had travelled to Windhaven that morning.

When y/n had calmed a bit, he felt her pull away slightly and look up into his eyes.

"I'm half-Illyrian - that's why I'm able to carry a baby with wings. My father is Illyrian, my mother was Fae. She died when I was just a baby so I don't remember her at all. I was taken to live in the camps with my three older brothers so my father could carry on his work - but he really didn't have much of an interest in us. I don't think he ever wanted children".

Tears were pouring down her face and Cassian felt awful.

"You don't need to tell me if you don't want to, y/n".

She gave Cassian a small smile and looked down at her hands, playing with her fingers and leaning into his chest.

"I was kept under house arrest while my brothers went to train. I cleaned, I cooked, I think really I just became the substitute wife and mother that they needed to take care of them while they went ahead making a name for themselves as warriors".

"Then, one day, I noticed my brothers looking at me strangely at breakfast. I wasn't sure why, until I noticed the scent, and realised I had gotten my cycle".

"They grabbed me and dragged me to my uncle's tent where he and my father were drawing up training plans and threw me at their feet. They picked up on it too - and my father ran to grab his hunting knife".

He felt her body shake, scented her fear permeating the air as she recounted the trauma.

"He only meant to make a cut, I think. That's what happened to the other girls. Just a cut. I tried to run. I really tried. But the knife caught too close to the base of my wing".

Cassian screwed up his face in anger and horror, his wings flaring slightly as they felt the phantom pains that y/n was describing.

"The healer couldn't save the right one - so my father ordered that they both be removed".

Cassian felt y/n slump against him, the weight of telling her story clearly taking a toll on her body. He gently guided them both over to the steps and sat her down, keeping her as close to him as possible.

"Y/n, I am so sorry. I had no idea - I wouldn't have suggested this if I'd have known".

She gave him a pointed look.

"Cassian. I wanted to train. I missed out on training my whole life and I finally feel that freedom here. I get it, I understand now, the blood rushing through your body and the adrenaline pumping. I want to train".

Cassian nodded, pulling her in for a hug.

"Thank you for telling me your story - and I promise, I will train you".

-

Azriel's POV

Azriel had returned from Windhaven a sweaty, dishevelled mess at around 4pm. He hopped into his shower to wash off the day before his stomach let out a loud grumble, and he realised he hadn't had anything to eat since his waffles at breakfast. The memory of him eating the waffle from y/n's mouth ran through his head and he grimaced. He wasn't sure what had compelled him to do it - it just felt natural, like he had been doing that all his life. He shook his head, trying to shake away the embarrassment, when his stomach grumbled again and he decided to wander down to the kitchen in search of sustenance .

Cassian was seated at the table, a coffee in hand and a book on war strategy in front of him. He looked up and offer Azriel a smile.

"Hey brother".

"Hey, how was training today? Did y/n get on ok?".

"Yeah she did well - but thanks for the bloody heads up".

Azriel looked at Cassian in confusion.

"Heads up for what?"

"Heads up that she grew up in the Illyrian war camps and lost her wings, Az, that's the kind of information I should have known before training her. Training her pregnant is fine, but training her pregnant and with pre-existing injuries? I needed to know that to make sure I adjusted the training plan, and what about if...."

Azriel stopped listening. You had been there, in the camps? You had had wings? How did he not know this? Cassian stopped, clearly seeing that Azriel's mind was racing.

"You didn't know?", he asked, astonished. Azriel just shook his head.

"How did you not know, Az? The scars down her back are pretty damn obvious - and considering the pair of you managed to make a baby, I'm guessing you saw her back plenty".

Azriel had seen y/n's back. At least, he thought he had? He had been in such a bad place during that time, drinking and sleeping his way through Velaris, that he didn't remember much of that night. Had he really become that type of person? The kind to pay so little attention to the woman he was sleeping with that he missed scars down her back from her wings? Azriel battled his own trauma about his scarred hands daily, he knew what it was like to share your scars, your trauma, with another person - and he gave it so little consideration?

Cassian saw Azriel's spiral and stepped up to put his hand on his brother's shoulder, grounding him.

"What happened to her?"

"Az, you should talk to her. Ask her to share her story with you. It's not mine to tell". Azriel knew Cassian was right, but he couldn't bring himself to raise it just yet - to admit that he had paid so little attention to her, and her body, that he didn't already know.

"Who did it to her?".

"She didn't say, and she was upset so I didn't want to pry".

Azriel nodded, but he wasn't prepared to accept that answer. Quietly, he ordered his shadows to Windhaven to find out who y/n's family was, what they had done to her. It dawned on Azriel, as he watched the shadows leave, that he knew nothing about the mother of his child. How she had come to be in Velaris, why she grew up in the camps, what had happened to her family, if she still had family, her dreams, hopes, aspirations. He knew nothing. Azriel felt a heavy weight on his shoulders and he sagged into a chair opposite Cassian, no longer hungry.

-

The shadows returned around midnight, whilst Azriel and Cassian were lounging on sofas in the House of Wind library, a glass of whiskey in hand. Cassian almost lost his glass to them as they flew through the air in an almost panicked manner and swirled around Azriel's head.

Azriel listened in as his shadows all but shouted in his ears. He felt his face pale and looked over to Cassian, who was equally as alarmed.

"What's the matter?".

"Cass, she's Devlon's niece".

[najia-cooks]

[ID: One puffy circle of bread, and three which have been halved to show an internal pocket, on a striped blue and white kitchen towel. End ID]

خبز الكماج / Khubiz al-kmaj (Palestinian flatbread)

Khubiz al-kmaj is a thin flatbread with an internal pocket. It is commonly eaten with breakfast to scoop up dips such as hummus, used to eat stews, served alongside main dishes, and used to make sandwiches and to wrap falafel. "خُبْز," pronounced "khubz" or (in Levantine varieties of Arabic) "khubiz," comes from the root خ ب ز (kh-b-z), which also produces the word "خَبَزَ" "khabaza" (Levantine: "خَبَز" "khabaz"), "to bake."‎

This bread is eaten across the Levant and in Greece, with slight differences in terminology and style. It is variously called "خُبْز العَرَبِيّ" (khubz al-'arabiyy; Arabian bread), "خُبْز "البَلَدِيّ (khubz al-baladiyy; bread from my country), or (occasionally) "خُبْز البيتة" or "البيتا" (khubz al-bita), a borrowing from "pita." ("Pita" itself is perhaps from Greek "πίτα" "pita," or the modern Hebrew "פיתה.") The bread is referred to as "khubiz al-kmaj" in Palestine, from the Turkic "kömeç" / كُمَجْ‎ ("bread baked in ashes"). The collective term for the bread in general is كماج (kmāj); each individual piece of bread is referred to with the singulative "كماجة‎" (kmāja).

Today, kmaj is frequently made with white flour; some people add olive oil or milk powder to ensure a very soft dough. Leila el-Haddad writes that a more traditional method omits milk and uses whole white spring wheat, a whiteish wheat grain harvested in late spring and ground without removing the bran.

Since the late 20th century, many Palestinian households have used an electric cooker (طنجرة الكهرباء; ṭanjara al-kahrabā') to cook kmaj, placing one kmaja inside of the chamber and one on top and allowing both to bake at the same time. These aluminum and tin cookers, which were invented in Gaza and became popular there during the first intifada in the late 1980s, are designed to route electricity through a metal pipe or spiral wire on the underside of their lids, heating both the top and the inside of the cooker simultaneously.

The cookers' popularity can be attributed in part to a curfew that Israel imposed on Gazan refugee camps during the intifada, supposedly in an attempt to restrict the movements of resistance fighters. Refugees in the Jabalia camp in the north, for example, unable to afford home stoves, and without the necessary outdoor space to make familial clay ovens, would have to wait in line for hours every day to get bread from shared ovens, risking curfew violations; household electric cookers were far more convenient. The success of local industry and innovation in the form of Gazan-manufactured technology was also symbolically and strategically important during the first intifada, in which Palestinians employed strikes and boycotts (largely organized by women) of Israeli companies and goods as a strategy of resistance to occupation.

An electric cooker is still today considered a very important tool, as it spares families the need to purchase kmaj (the price of which was soaring compared to the cost of flour in the 2010s, and which was often of inferior quality compared to what could be made at home). They are frequently given as wedding or housewarming presents. Lack of access to electricity, though, imposes a limiting condition on the usage of these cookers, as Israel has for over a decade strangled the flow of power to Gaza: Abier Almasri wrote in 2017 that tasks such as cooking and laundry had to be rushed during the four or so hours a day when electricity was available. In this environment, electric cookers are useful in that they can prepare a lot of bread in a short period of time. Fathia Radwan said in 2022 that she would wake up early, after the nightly power outage, to prepare more than 100 loaves of bread at a time for her family of nine.

Today, the taxes that Israel levies on imports of raw materials into Gaza makes the cost of new electric cookers, which sometimes exceeds 120 shekels (37 USD), too expensive for some families to afford. The difficulty and expense of importing materials, and the impossibility of exporting goods to foreign markets with the advent of the 2007 siege, also limit the number of factories in Gaza that are able to manufacture these cooking pots. The aluminum industry, introduced to Gaza in the 1960s and once the basis of a manufacturing and economic renaissance in the region, deteriorated as a result of the siege, as factories were no longer able to export goods to the West Bank and were newly reliant on imports of raw materials from Egypt. Even parts to repair electric cookers are expensive, due to a tax levied on items judged by Israel to have a "dual," i.e. a possible civilian and military, use.

Still, repairman Iyad Faraj estimates that over half the homes in Gaza have and use an electric cooker, as maintaining, repairing, and operating one is cheaper than having a gas pipe installed (at 68 shekels, 20 USD) and purchasing gas. Electric pots thus stand in many homes as both a utilitarian item, and a symbol of Palestinian ingenuity and resistance to Israel's attempts at impoverishment and starvation.

Support Palestinian resistance by contributing to Palestine Action’s bail fund or to Palestine Legal’s defence fund, by attending court or making a sign to support the Elbit Eight, or by buying an e-sim for distribution in Gaza.

Ingredients:

500g (4 cups + 3 Tbsp) white whole wheat (spring) flour

1/2 Tbsp (5g) active dry yeast

1/2 Tbsp (6.25g) vegetarian granulated sugar

1/2 Tbsp (7.25g) kosher salt

About 2 1/4 cups (530mL) room-temperature water, divided

Olive oil

White whole wheat flour is flour that has a white color once ground, despite the fact that it includes both the bran and the germ of the wheatberry. It is milled from white spring wheat (so named because it is harvested in late spring).

You may instead mix white all-purpose flour and brown whole wheat flour in your desired proportion. Keep in mind that whole wheat flour will need more water and more kneading than white flour. If you’re using all white flour, you will need about 1 1/4 cup (300mL) water.

Instructions:

1. Mix flour, yeast, sugar, and salt in a large mixing bowl. Add water gradually until dry ingredients come together into a sticky dough.

2. Knead the dough on the countertop or in a wide, shallow bowl until smooth, about 5 minutes. (If using whole wheat or white whole wheat flour) continue incorporating water into the dough as you knead to maintain a tacky texture.

3. Fold the dough into a ball and return to the bowl, seam-side down. Pat the top of the dough with some olive oil, cover the bowl, and let rise for an hour.

4. Pinch the dough into about 8 balls of equal size (about 110g each). Cover and let rest for 10 minutes.

5. On a lightly floured surface, roll out each ball of dough into a circle about 1/4" (1/2cm) in thickness. Set dough circles on a surface prepared with parchment paper and cover closely with a kitchen towel or plastic wrap. Let rest and ferment for at least 1 and up to 10 hours.

An overnight rest is traditional in Palestine and will create a more complex flavor in the bread (see note below).

6. Remove each circle of dough from its resting place with a metal spatula and roll it out to a 1/4” thickness again. Preheat a baking stone or sheet in the top third of an oven at 500 °F (260 °C), and then cook breads in the oven for three minutes, until large bubbles have begun to form.

7. Flip bread over and cook for another 3 minutes on the other side, until golden brown and puffed up completely.

8. Wrap breads in a kitchen towel or tea towel and allow to steam for a few minutes while the others cook.

Notes

The climate where I live is dry enough that I have discovered a risk of my breads becoming crackers if I leave them out overnight. The dried-out flatbread does puff up in the oven, but the resulting product is not as nice and fluffy as it should be.

Through experimentation, I have found the best method of both preventing drying out and guaranteeing that the flatbreads will puff up during cooking the next day is:

1. Roll out the dough and place dough circles on a lightly oiled surface. Cover them closely with lightly oiled plastic wrap.

2. The next day, fold dough circles back into balls. Place seam-side down and roll out again on a lightly floured surface.

3. Bake as described above.

If you live in a humid environment, the first instructions given in the recipe above should work for you.

[didherodown]

Okay so I dont think I've ever done this before, so here it goes

*ehem*

didherodown's Phandom fanfic recs

(if the author has a tumblr I tagged them :) )

*quick note, most of these are ao3, however some of them are ff net*

Ghosts in the Closet by @myaibou

an excellent post cannon fic, that deals with grown-up Danny and his family and everything slowly falling apart

Cold Hands by @tourettesdog

a DP x DC of Danny/Tim, reveal fic. short and sweet (with a lil trama and angst dashed in there)

Face to Face by @dp-marvel94

Danny gets separated by the ghost catcher and has to deal with the side effects of being literally split in two

Treading Water by @breynekai-tfc

a mer!danny fic, you don't understand guys this is soooooooooo amazingly done

Heroes About by @healthysharkshealthyocean

a DP x Marvel crossover that features Spiderman, Deadpool and of course, Danny, based on the comics by @the-stove-is-on-fire

Vacation Crashers by @impyssadobsessions

a DP x DC in which the Fentons are camping when Batman literally crashes onto the scene

Shift by @captain-ozone

AU where the Fentons are Chicago-based, and everything up to the Pariah Dark incident happens there, but after the battle (and an unwilling identity reveal) the "thin" spot in the ghost zone shifts to Amity Park, and the Fentons move there to deal with the ghosts, and Danny meets Sam and Tucker for the first time

Phantom of Truth by @haikujitsu

a classic Danny is captured by the GIW, and who do they get to study this high-level specimen? The leading Doctor in her field Madeline Fenton (mind the tags, it's a dark one!)

Shadow of a Doubt by Haiju

a direct sequel to Phantom of Truth

Trust Your Instincts by @peachdoxie

in which someone is placing ectoplasmic bombs around the city, and Maddie turns to an unlikely ally to figure out what exactly is happening

the all too literal ghosts of your past by @glowstick-blood

in which adult Danny gets shunted back in time to exactly one week before the portal accident (dun dun dunnnnnnn)

Maybe We'll Find Each Other by DP_Marvel94

a one-shot of full ghost Danny getting turned half-human by the portal opening

Robin's Egg by @arzuera

a DP x DC in which Damiean while on patrol finds an injured Danny about to retreat into his core, and agrees to keep his core safe

Exposed by ADraconicScribe

in which someone anonymously submits a story to the local news that the ghost boy is in fact only half ghost, and is hiding among the students at casper high

Danny Phantom and Astro Boy Crossover By: Jaylina

as the title suggests, its a DP x Astro Boy crossover. There have been odd tears appearing in the ghost zone, and Danny gets sucked into one and trapped in another dimension where the ghosts have been taking over robots and wrecking havoc (I know this one is a lil niche, but I love it so much I had to include it)

Roughing It By: Haiju

Danny and Maddie go camping, but after a ghost attack (and some Vlad shenanigans) Danny is stuck in ghost form, Maddie is injured and they find themselves in a tenuis alliance

[enchantedflameandflower]

Gavin (Karl Urban) x reader!

Some hot making out in a magical tree house that is for sure going to lead to more…

co-written with CheshireCatSmile

@kus-babygirl @shirley-girly @jynx15 @everchar-of-the-shire @vavafaure1994

@deathlesun @butchers-girl @hippo2211

@bohemianblasphemy @karlurbanism @imherefordeanandbones @torntaltos @babyfri3dric3

karl urban masterlist

direct link to part 1

part 7

8.

Gavin chuckles, his dark eyes crinkling pleasantly at the corners then pulls you toward the make shift doorway and starts down the carved steps toward the space with the counter. When he's at the bottom he grabs you around the waist to lift you down the rest of the way. He's so strong he makes it seem effortless.

“I don’t know how you do that,” you say. “You might hurt yourself tossing me around like that.” You can’t help yourself, running your palm over his arm, feeling the muscles.

He eyes you up and down with a glint in his eyes. “I can handle you just fine…I'd say you’re about perfect in my book.”  He caresses your cheek then turns to start opening some of the other cabinets until he pulls down a cook top that looks to work much as a camp stove would. He checks the fuel canisters then rummages through his pack for the food packets. "Savory beef stew and savory chicken stew...which would you like tonight?  Or...there's...chow mein or white cheddar mac 'n cheese."

“Mmmmm mac ‘n cheese,” you grin. Something feels so good about sharing this with just him, comfortable and right. “It’s so nice to be away from everything. Thank you for bringing me.”

"It's my pleasure sweetheart. I'm kinda glad it worked out this way. Not that I want Jack to worry any more about his family or the baby...but it's nice sharing this with you. I would have been hesitant to go look for this treehouse if he was with me. I mean, he would have been totally focused on the business and wouldn't have wanted to take the time." He clears his throat. "I mean...he's just more on the serious side."

“He is. But I think it’s important to keep some magic and adventure in your life. At least it is to me. Honestly, I could stay out here for ages and never worry… It’s so beautiful.” 

Gavin finishes heating the food and brings it over to the table, sitting next to you. He smiles softly as he hands you the mac 'n cheese. "I had you pegged as a mac 'n cheese type of girl right from the start. Jack said you'd lived in Seattle and were used to fancier big city stuff. But I just had a feeling." He plucks off a piece of the leftover corn bread to dip in his stew. His thigh is warm against yours.

You laugh and take a big bite then hum gratefully. It’s actually very good. “I’m not used to fancy anything, believe me. But even if I was I’d much rather have a homey mac and cheese.” His thigh shifts against yours under the table and a little flutter of warmth goes through you so you press even closer.

"I like you just the way you are."

When you finish eating, you make sure to clean up while Gavin goes through his pack. It’s starting to get dark and the rain is picking up again.

"Thanks for cleaning up. I'll take the sleeping bags upstairs. I'd hate to have anything happen to that beautiful old quilt." Then he chuckles. "Upstairs higher up in the tree that is." He gathers both the bags up and traverses the carved stairs. Then he looks over his shoulder. "Ready for dessert?"

You laugh a little but a wild flutter goes off in your chest and warmth suffuses you. How could you have gotten this lucky out of nowhere? You try to tamp your excitement in case it doesn’t work but you can’t help it. You’ve never had anyone be this kind, not even at the beginning. “Oh, yes I am,” you smile. You dig a flashlight out of your pack and follow him up.

He unrolls one sleeping bag on the double bed and smooths it out over the mattress then spreads out the second one face down and zips one side and the bottom together making it easy to slide in from the other side. The rain starts coming down a little harder and you're both grateful at how much of the room is actually securely covered. Someone must have done a lot of work getting things in shape before they left. "I'll just grab our packs and bring them up in case we need anything."  He's back in a moment and you notice his hair got a little damp.

You had shimmied out of your jeans while he grabbed the packs like he had done the night before then slipped into the sleeping bags and scooted all the way over so he can slide in too. It was dark now so you left the flashlight on and grinned when he came back in the room. “You’re wet again,” you teased but you loved the way his hair looked a little disheveled.

"Yeah, I grabbed the quilt and folded it back up to put away then I took a look over the edge and out toward the ridge. But I got out too far from the roof," he chuckles. "Didn't get too wet luckily." He reaches in his pack and pulls out a chocolate bar to share. Then he undresses down to his boxers and a tank. You watch his muscles ripple and bunch and can't help admire his strong body.

He has a couple funny tan lines from working so much in the sun but they don’t deter at all from the way he looks. He smiles when he sees you watching him and you’re sure he can see all the less than innocent thoughts in your head. You sit up and pull off your sweater but leave your t-shirt on as he climbs in. “It’s strange how it doesn’t seem to be too cold in here isn’t it? It’s lovely.”

"It is," he agrees. Then he smiles. "Just cool enough for comfortable cuddling...but first..."  He splits the chocolate bar in two and hands you half as he slips into the sleeping bag.

“You definitely know the way to get me in a good mood,” you grin. “Mac ‘n cheese and chocolate in bed?” You curl up close to him and take a bite of the candy, humming with pleasure at the sweet, rich taste.

"You are so different from what Jack has in his head," he says, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you close. "You're beautiful and kind and down to earth. Pretty perfect in my book." 

“I think people in town think I’m a snob because I’m quiet. I’m just…I don’t know,” you shrug and take anther bite of chocolate. “Do you talk about me a lot?” you grin, wriggling closer.

"Well...I have to be honest...I noticed you that first day you came in to interview. Just something about you caught my attention. Thank God your references were so great. Jack had to agree with me you were the best person we could hire. He was impressed too and that's not always easy. But I think he has this idea since you were at that big firm in Seattle that you're a city girl at heart. He told me to be caref....well he told me you'd probably get tired of life down here and move back to the city." He clears his throat.  "Anyway, I'm glad you answered our ad."

“I’m glad I did too. I couldn’t stay in the city anymore. Not with…” you trail off and stop yourself, not wanting to talk about your ex at all. “I noticed you the first day too. But you’re always so busy and I so desperately wanted to do a good job.” You finish the chocolate and snuggle a little closer to him, licking your fingers clean.

You notice a little spot of chocolate on his lower lip as he shifts closer to you and settles. "What?" he inquires as he watches your eyes flick to his lips more than once.

“Um,” you bite your lip, letting your gaze flick to his eyes and lips again. “You missed some,” you smile, then lean forward and slowly swipe your tongue over his full lower lip.

His hazel eyes darken a shade. "Mmmm," he hums and captures you in a slow sensuous kiss, his tongue gliding in to swirl around yours in a possessive dance sending warmth all the way to your toes.

You moan softly into his kiss as he takes over completely and fills you with so much heat you wish you were wearing nothing at all. Your arms slide around his broad shoulders unconsciously as you try to pull him closer.

One strong arm tightens around you as his other hand slides into your hair. A low rumble rolls through his chest sounding like the purr of a large jungle cat. His fingers drag through your hair and it’s so good, you feel like you’re going to melt away. His tongue swirls around yours again, making your heart race. You shift against him, rubbing your foot along his calf.

That masculine rumble rolls through his chest again, vibrating against you. He pulls back so slowly from the kiss and presses a row of kisses along your jawline.

His mouth is hot and insistent and you have to gasp for air when he breaks the kiss as if you had forgotten you need to breathe. “Gavin,” you moan his name. “Something feels different here…almost as if there’s magic in the air…doesn’t it?”

He lets out a shaky breath and you know he’s affected by you too. His dark eyes glitter in the dim light as he looks at you. "Mmm...yes...it does sweetheart.” The rain makes a tinkling sound high overhead...almost like hitting soft chimes and it's sound is like music drifting down from the highest branches.

You think it must’ve been years since you’ve felt as relaxed as this. That voice in your head is still telling you to hide away but you can barely hear it. You let your fingers trace the muscles of his shoulders, perfectly built and lithe and so strong, you can’t get enough.

He nuzzles at your neck softly then whispers, "I think it must be magic that brought you here and brought us to this place and time. It's almost like I remember you from a dream."

“You feel like magic…” you breathe. He’s warm and solid, almost on top of you and his stubble lightly tickles your sensitive skin as he’s careful not to rub. It makes you feel like your entire body is coming alive for the first time.

"You feel so right in my arms," he says, husk in his voice. "Like you were always meant to be there. That probably sounds like a line...but I promise you it's not." He kisses his way down your throat to your pulse point and stops to lightly touch there, his lips warm and soft.

You tilt your head back in pure bliss and shivers of pleasure go through you making you cling to him tighter. “It doesn’t sound like a line. I feel it too.”

He nips gently at your pulse and smiles against your skin as he feels your heartbeat increase. "Either this place is magic or you are," he murmurs in a slightly gruff timbre.

It’s hard to believe it could be you but you can hardly even think with the way he feels. You thread your fingers through his tousled hair and guide his mouth back to yours, wanting to taste him again.

He immediately responds to your coaxing and his lips are on yours, tongue sliding in to possess yours. He presses you closer and deepens the kiss like a man parched, finding an oasis in the desert and leaving you whimpering helplessly beneath him.

His body somehow grows even hotter and feels even better than before. The sleeping bag has fallen away and he’s holding you against him. You tangle your legs with his as he tangles his tongue around yours and it makes you moan softly.

He takes his fill then finally lets you breathe as he kisses his way along your jaw again to that sensitive hollow just behind your ear. He flicks his tongue out to taste just there sending more warm shivers through you and making your center throb. You shift your hips pressing to his firm thigh and you can feel his cock swelling against your stomach. He gives a low rumble and flicks his tongue over that little spot once more.

“Gavin…” you whimper. Pleasure and heat flare inside of you. “If you do that again I’m going to go crazy,” you tease, laughing softly.

He pulls back to smile at you and rubs his hand comfortingly along your side. “Why don’t you catch your breath, sweetheart,” his voice is husky but his words are sure and you know he must have seen that tiny last fleck of lingering anxiousness in your eyes. “I don't mind taking my time with you. Let me just hold you close for awhile and we can listen to the rain. Feel the magic of this place." He adjusts his position and lays back, wrapping his arms around you and snuggling you close to his body.

You curl your arm around him, letting your fingers drift over his chest and tilt your head just a little to look into his dark eyes. “You really don’t mind?”

You can see the emotions swirling there, but mostly you see the warmth and growing affection with that carefully banked simmering heat. You also see the promise of more and the conviction of his words.

“No, I don’t mind. We can wait until you’re 100% sure. I’ll be here no matter what.”

You settle in against his chest again, resting your head on his warm shoulder. You’re almost there, you know, and you have a feeling you’re not going to make it out of this bed without giving in to your desires. But for now, this just feels perfect. “I love the sound of the rain. I couldn’t be happier.”

"Your happiness makes my heart feel warm and full," he murmurs.  He settles you closer against him and his warm breath gently ruffles your hair.

All of him feels so so good.

"I could fall asleep with you pressed against me every single night and die a happy man. Rest for a bit, sweetheart. I’ll be here."

~*~*~

Next up: SMUT! (I promise to get the next part out quicker!)

really hope you like, reblogs, comments and like mean everything <3

[houseofwolves-v1]

Hi friends, I finally have consistent reliable cell service again for the first time since Friday. I’m so incredibly thankful that my family and friends are all safe and experiencing only minimal disruption to our homes and living situations in the wake of Hurricane Helene, especially since the same cannot be said for the majority of our area.

I’m going to be compiling a list of local nonprofits and mutual aid funds in Western North Carolina that are helping with disaster relief that are in need of donations and support (I’ll continue editing this post to add more as I find them)

My family and I are doing what we can to help out since we have the ability to do so, but resources are scarce here right now and outside help is greatly appreciated. That being said, please please please DO NOT physically come and try to offer volunteer aid! There are coordinated groups that are making supply runs back and forth, and we need to make sure roads are kept as clear as possible so that emergency and utility workers are able to do their jobs. The majority of the area is still without power and/or water and there are enough of us in stable situations who can volunteer where it’s needed without bringing in people who will be unnecessarily using precious resources.

*EDIT: most places have received such an influx in donations they’re requesting a halt on physical items so that they have time to distribute everything, so monetary donations to purchase bigger ticket items (generators and other such things) are now the priority!* Items needed are non perishable food, bottled water, trash bags, blankets, first aid supplies, pads and tampons, diapers, formula, hand sanitizer, wet wipes, toilet paper, paper towels, bleach, shovels, gloves, coolers, propane, camp stoves, flashlights, and batteries. There are plenty of groups outside the area that are coordinating with groups here to bring those supplies up, so locating someone who is doing that to donate those supplies to is key if you’re wanting to offer a physical donation rather than monetary.

Buncombe County:

•Blue Ridge Public Radio has been an incredible source of information and provides regular updates, both on air at 88.1 if you’re local, and on their instagram page @/blueridgepublicradio (this one is a resource suggestion rather than a donation suggestion)

•BeLoved Asheville- local nonprofit working to distribute supplies and coordinate clean up efforts, Venmo: @/BeLoved-Asheville, PayPal: @/belovedasheville

•Babies Need Bottoms- local nonprofit distributing wipes and diapers, based in Asheville but serves all of Western NC normally, so hopefully they’ll be able to start expanding where they’re offering supplies to soon, Link to Donate: https://babiesneedbottoms.org/donate/

•Pansy Collective- mutual aid collective, also Asheville based but serving the Western NC area, using donations for both general supplies and the specific needs of individuals, Venmo and CashApp: @/pansycollective

•Asheville Survival Program- mutual aid collective, using donations for both general supplies and the specific needs of individuals, Venmo: @/AppMedSolid, CashApp: $streetsidehelene

•Manna Food Bank- private nonprofit distributing food, they serve all of Western NC but just had their headquarters severely damaged by flooding (although they have still been out regularly distributing food the past few days), Link to Donate: https://donate.mannafoodbank.org

•Brother Wolf Animal Rescue- local animal shelter that is urgently seeking foster homes for pets if you’re in the area, and also seeking monetary donations as their facility was severely damaged by flooding, Link to Donate: https://secure.qgiv.com/for/rebuildbw

Madison County:

•Community Housing Coalition- local nonprofit providing home repairs to low income residents, Link to Donate: https://chcmadisoncountync.org/donate/

•Rural Organizing and Resilience (also known as ROAR WNC)- mutual aid effort working to get supplies out to people who can’t access shelters and food distribution sites, Link to Donate: https://ruralorganizing.wordpress.com/donate/?fbclid=PAZXh0bgNhZW0CMTEAAaYcowwFWXMZ2KX9E5soM2mg1dXfHbe3s8j1_S2D5HAuPuyYv3JtPXzeEDc_aem_rI_E3daUQlumDDLbIEn22g

•Holler Harm Reduction- mutual aid collective, working with ROAR to help distribute supplies, Link to Donate: https://www.hollerharmreduction.org/get-involved

Watauga County:

•@/sweetleaf161 on instagram- regularly sharing mutual aid links for Boone and surrounding areas

•Watauga Humane Society- working to provide pet food to locals, and offering available facility space for those needing a safe space for their pet to temporarily stay during this time, Link to Donate: https://wataugahumane.org/donate/doogies_hope

•F.A.R.M. Cafe- local nonprofit providing free or pay what you can meals, Link to Donate: https://farmcafe.org/donate

•Hunger and Health Coalition- local nonprofit distributing food and medications, based in Boone but serving the whole High Country area, Link to Donate: https://secure.qgiv.com/for/thehungerandhealthcoalition