#your sweet potatoes are bland

[bonivers]

some of these new shows want to have a “whatcha say” music moment like this soooo bad but it can’t be recreated i fear

some shows are edited in such an odd way

[rileykeouhg]

#GGAW23 | FAVORITE QUOTES

[kingjasnah]

it is really very unfortunate but the best way for me to reference kholin family dynamics is a four minute scene from a questionable show that came out fifteen years ago set to jason derulo's 'whatcha say'. but here we are. anyway this is word for word row era kholin family dinner

[texas-gothic]

Dracula Daily Prep: Gather Your Paprikash!

It's that time of year again. Even as we speak, Jonathan Harker has departed for Transylvania, and the unhallowed halls of Castle Dracula. And as he makes his way towards that foreboding country, he will encounter a singular, most enticing of dishes: Paprika Hendl, or as we might know it better, Chicken Paprikash!

This traditional Central European dish explodes in popularity each May as we all gather around our virtual mess hall to enjoy the spirit of this most influential of gothic novels. Perhaps you yourself are considering throwing together a pot this year? Well, if you are, let this be your guide.

So, first, let's discuss the most important of the ingredients here: authentic hungarian paprika. Now, the recipe I first used last year called only for Sweet Paprika, but I personally found that version to be a little bland. I'm remedying this by adding some Hot Paprika as well. However, this is just my personal experimentation. Hungarian Hot Paprika can in fact be very hot, so if you're not comfortable with anything too spicy, feel free to opt only for the Sweet Paprika.

(Both of these I had to order online.)

Next, is another very important addition. As youre gathering your basic cornerstones of cooking (namely yellow onion, roma tomato, and garlic for this recipe) you may find yourself passing up on something that could vastly improve your dish. I'm talking, of course, about Hungarian Wax Peppers. These peppers range in heat, from meak and mild to slightly hotter than you'd average jalapeño. As per instruction, you should only use one. But on my end, I found the single pepper to be a little underwhelming, and I had trouble picking out it's flavor. So, this year, I'll be using two of them.

I got these from Central Market, an upmarket gorcer on Westheimer. They're a cousin of HEB, and you can find one or two in every major city in Texas. If you're elsewhere, try an alternative like Whole Foods, or try to find a European or International food market in your area.

Next, let's talk chicken. You can't have Chicken Paprkiash without the chicken, after all.

You're going to want to go with dark meat cuts for this. Traditionally the dish would use a mix of legs and thighs. Personally, I suggest using only the thighs, which you'll want to get bone-in and skin-on. The thigh provides a flater surface for browning than the leg, as well as more meat.

(A note on food safety, raw chicken will usually only last 2-3 days in the fridge. So you'll want to grab that fairly close to the day you're actually cooking this. If not, you can do what I'll be doing, and sticking it in the freezer until about 24 hours before I start cooking.)

So, as you gather your meat, produce, and spice you're probably asking yourself, "what on Earth am I going to be eating this with?" And the answer to that is spaetzle! A popular dumpling present in lots of Central European cooking, this is exactly what you need to tie this all together.

Now, while you should be able to find some in the international isle of most major grocers, you might also have to visit an international food store, or perhaps something more upmarket. If none of these options work, then there are a variety of other side dishes that work just as well. Egg noodles are a very popular choice, and in my very American attempt last year, I found that mashed potatoes work especially well.

Now that you've got all these things together, you're very nearly done. All that's left is the thickener. Paprikash is thickened using a blend of flour, heavy whipping cream, and sour cream. We'll get onto preparing this mixture in my post on actually cooking the paprikash, but until then, acquiring them should be a cake walk at any place food items are sold.

Now that will conclude the actual grocery list for just the Paprikash itself, but I do have one more pointer on how to really liven up this meal. Now, if you're under 21 or if perhaps you take after our dear, depraved, beloathed Count

Then you can skip this next bit. As a wine professional myself, I find that a well paired glass can add a tremendous flare to nearly any already great dinner. In the case of something like Chicken Paprkiash, and keeping with the Central European theme, I could hardly think of a better match than a good German Pinot Noir, also known as a Spatburgunder. Pinot from Germany typically has a very light body and a refreshing acidity that plays very well with the rich and creamy sauce of Chicken Paprikash. The palate of earth and red fruit should always pair nicely with the smoke of the paprika, as well as being a general good partner for any chicken. I myself am going with this 2020 Rheingau from August Kesseler.

And with that, we are done! Hit those checkout isles and make sure to get home before dark. Terrible things have sway over the world once the sun has gone down. So if the crowd does keep you locked up until nightfall, make sure to graciously accept any crucifixes given to you by kindly, elderly grandmothers and inn keepers. But whatever you do, make sure to pop in on Friday, when I'll be sharing a step by step guide on taking these ingredients and turning them into a dinner that will make our good friend Jonathan go red as a fire truck!

Happy Dracula Week everybody!

[emeritusemeritus]

Hi love! If it's not too much to ask, could you maybe do a Fred fic with a bit of an insecure reader? As in, she hears some people say nasty things about her (mainly about appearance like weight) and her relationship with Fred, and she distances herself from him until one day she really can't handle staying away from him anymore? Sweet sweet fluff with a bit of making out by the end, maybe?

Hi Anon, I’m sorry this took so long! I tried to write it as if it was an insecure monologue, a little jumpy and janky like how the reader’s thought process would be. I hope you like it! 🖤

Warnings: Insecure reader, self-deprecating thoughts, bullying, verbal abuse, taunting, talks of breakups, appearance and other issues, negative mentions of weight. Kissing, implied sexual references. Happy ending I promise!

Word count: 2.7k

Fire and Ice

It wasn't easy being Fred Weasley's girlfriend.

Being with Fred, falling in love with him- that part was easy; but having such an extroverted, popular joker for a boyfriend was at times, not so easy.

You were quieter by nature, a little more introverted and a lot more insecure than Fred but you seemed to balance each other out well most of the time, ying and yang, fire and ice. Fred was always quick to silence your hateful internal monologue whenever it presented itself, reminding you that you were beautiful, important, loved- all the things he wanted you to feel, the way that he saw you. But sometimes the insecurities were too much, the voices in your head too loud that you began to believe them again.

Fred had been busy, the tri-wizard tournament had been announced and him and George were trying everything they could to work around the age restriction but upon the application. They’d been virtually locked in their dorm for days researching different ideas and brewing potions that would age them up, though you doubted it would work, they always surprised you in the end.

Their reclusion could not have come at a worse time for you, though of course you would never mention anything. You’d been stood in front of Fred when the students had gathered to watch the regal, horse-drawn carriage fly over the tips of the trees in the forbidden forest and across the Great Lake led by the majestic white winged horses that made it look effortless and well, magical. You’d stood with pure excitement as you watched the magnificent ship emerge from underneath the water and sail towards the bank until you’d all be called away for the feast.

Your excitement had dwindled almost immediately when the girls of Beauxbatons glided through the door in a whimsical and captivating display, grabbing everyone’s attention for their beauty and elegance- including Fred. You’d seen Ron look flabbergasted, a fresh pink hue on his cheeks as he looked upon the girls with mouth agape and a glazed look in his eye and couldn’t help but avert your eyes slightly to see Fred looking at them in a much tamer way, but seeing his eyes fixed upon them nontheless. It pulled at every single one of your heartstrings, that familiar sinking feeling in your gut instantly making you nauseated by the food in front of you.

Their uniforms were delicate and beautiful, tailored perfectly of the finest satin in such a rich colour that it was both feminine and powerful all in one. You couldn’t help but look away from Fred, from anything and began to pick at the edge of your frumpy school cardigan, suddenly disgusted by its mere existence.

When Dumbledore announced the entrance of Durmstrang, you didn’t even look up, already too consumed by your own self-deprecating thoughts. The uniform you’d once been so proud to wear now felt like a potato sack in comparison, shapeless and bland from head to toe. You suddenly wanted to get away, to do anything you could to get out of the shapeless mess and to prove to yourself and to others around you that you weren’t just a blob of blended wool and scruffy hair that had been haphazardly thrown into a high pony ahead of your long day of travelling back to school. But there was nothing you could do, forced to sit there in a mass of unflattering garments next to your boyfriend who had been looking at much more attractive females and pretend to be fine. Thankfully the arrival of professor Moody was enough to prompt serious discussion around you and you could blend into the background without notice, eating only tiny bits and slipping away before the end of the meal.

It continued for days, the stab in your side whenever you’d see the Beauxbatons girls in their pretty uniforms looking so sweet and dainty, often followed around by drooling boys that quivered with their every move. You were jealous, but you wouldn’t admit it, choosing instead to be disgusted by it all and very much wanting it all to be over and for them to be gone. You couldn’t forget the expression on Fred’s face when they made their grand entrance and the pain that it brought when you did remember. You’d never doubted his love for you, not really, though of course you doubted why he chose you in the first place- did he now regret that decision?

It had been days since you’d seen him and the messages he’d initially sent through Lee had dwindled to none, meaning that you were so out of communication that you felt that stinging dread all over again- was he preparing to break up? Had he found someone else? Someone undoubtedly prettier in a powder blue satin uniform?

So when you finally caught sight of that gorgeous red head in the hallway, you lit up, excited to finally get the chance to talk to him. You heard his laugh and smiled to yourself, feeling relieved already- until you noticed he was laughing with one of them. She was pretty, brown hair tucked perfectly into her blue hat and her satin cape bellowing perfectly around her.

Something inside you felt out of place all of a sudden, enraged by the injustice and the inevitable ending to your relationship. You were angry at everything, most notably Fred, the Beauxbatons, the whole stupid competition. It left a sour taste in your mouth and you realised that if Fred wanted out, he could have one of the stupid French girls.

You were sat in the great hall with Hermione quietly reading when you heard a group of people moving excitedly towards the cup which broke your concentration. You watched as Cedric Diggory placed his name in the cup and his friends cheered for him, smacking him on the back in a hearty well done when he suddenly stopped upon making eye contact with you and sent you a little smile of recognition. You smiled back with a little head nod and watched as his friends dragged him away, leaving the room in relative peace once again.

That was until Fred and George came barrelling into the room, their distinctive blend of voices crying out and echoing through the hall as they high five students across the benches, proudly clutching hold of something in their hands, professing that ‘they’d done it’.

You could barely look at them, for the first time not caring in the slightest about what they had created.

“It’s not going to work,” Hermione says from beside you and immediately you are met with their bodies either side of Hermione. You feel Fred’s hand on your shoulder, a little touch that should have given you hope but actually felt repulsive to you. You didn’t even look up from your page, nor acknowledge their arrival and if Fred noticed, he didn’t say anything- though you could feel his eyes in you. The second the Triwizard cup fought back against their tricks, propelling them into the air and forcing them back into the ground with a definitive thud, you were gone. You walked back towards the common room without so much as a glance, not caring to find out the predicted result of their attempt.

“I would just die if I had to wear their uniforms!” You heard from around the corner in a thick French accent that had you rolling your eyes. The stupid little French cackles reached your ears and it was all that you could do not to petrify them on the spot as you attempted to walk straight past them.

“Oh” one of them said, spotting you emerging from around the corner. Another small fit of laughter that was hardly concealed, upon seeing someone in the exact uniform they were mocking.

“Does it feel as frumpy as it looks?” Another one said, her accent almost indecipherable. You shot daggers at the group of four witches and tried to get past but they blocked you in.

“You’re with the tall redhead yes? I’ve seen you,” the blonde one says, making your stomach lurch at her mention of Fred. “He’s cute.”

You don’t retaliate, though you can think of many choice words you wish to say to her, presuming you didn’t reach for your wand first. Their words cut into you like a knife, though you try to block out the harsher things they say about your appearance, your weight, your ugly uniform. Only when they bright up Fred again do your barricades fall, their words tearing you apart.

“It’s funny actually, that he chose you. You look more of a girl he’d want to be friends with, definitely not one to be in love with.”

The final nail in the coffin for you was the round of laughter that echoed throughout the corridor, following you in your mind straight back to the common room until the second you passed out that night, still sobbing into your pillow.

The next morning, your eyes were virtually swollen shut from all the tears shed the night before. You felt retched, all of your fears coming true as the beautiful girls laughed at you, hitting every one of your insecurities. They may as well have called you fat, ugly, all the other things you knew about yourself but never said out loud.

You didn’t go to classes that day, never even attempting to step foot out of the dormitory or even your bed until you were certain everyone had left. You looked an ungodly mess with red puffy eyes and a mass of tangled hair that felt like a limp weight on top of your head. The tears started again within seconds of reaching the bathroom mirror, silently falling down your cheeks and landing in little droplets into the sink. You sobbed for your sorry appearance, for the loss of Fred and for the unfairness in life. Why couldn’t you just be pretty?

You eventually crawled back into bed, not even bothering to sort out the disastrous mess upon your head and forced yourself to go back to sleep, pushing all thoughts of him and them out of your head.

Three days you’d been confined to your bedroom, feigning a migraine that had managed to convince even Mcgonagall and Hermione. Ginny had tried to relay multiple messages from Fred, both verbally and in writing but you’d feigned a worsening headache, nausea and other ailments and asked her politely but definitively to leave, rendering the message unheard. You’d heard all about Harry’s selection from Hermione and how he and Ron were fighting but you’d barely listened to any of it, too consumed by your own issues.

The fourth day, you made it out of bed only to remember that it was a Saturday. You considered slipping back into bed and ignoring the sun completely but your bladder disagreed with your plan vehemently. You wandered to the bathroom and for the first time in days, looked in the mirror.

You looked so sad, so broken that it made your heart constrict a little, seeing a sad little girl staring back at you. You look younger somehow, like a first year all over again. Memories flash beneath your eyes, memories of meeting Fred for the first time, of being young and falling in love, of being the girl that he fell in love with.

Ignoring the vague rumbling of your food deprived stomach, you rush into the showers and attempt to untangle your hair using every product you can find. You shave, condition, lotion up your entire body and make a start on magically fixing your puffy face. You’re on a mission to look your best, to show those petty and judgemental bitches that you were just as worthy as them and more importantly, that you were definitely someone that Fred would- and did- love.

You dried your hair and curled it using a spell you’d found in an old teen magazine that worked surprisingly well and stood back to look at the result, feeling pleased. You looked like yourself again but better, happier.

You dressed in a nicer than usual outfit that was still casual but actually highlighted your curves rather than hiding them, something you knew that Fred liked after years of compliments on your curves. You momentarily considered grabbing a cardigan incase your confidence weakened but thought against it, instead grabbing a jumper than you’d stolen from Fred a year ago. You felt feminine and pretty for the first time in ages and actually smiled when you look in the mirror one last time.

“Well don’t you look nice,” Ginny said as you stepped out of the bathroom, closing the door from where she had walked back into the dorm, realising that everyone else was now awake. “Feeling better?”

“Much,” you replied honestly, smiling and nodding a little.Want to get breakfast?”

“I was going to have a shower, Fred’s down there though, he’ll go with you I bet,” Ginny says, grabbing a towel and her bathing stuff. You pursed your lips, not letting the glow fade as you nodded at her, butterflies starting to flutter about in your belly.

Walking down to the common room, your nerves were already starting to build as you scanned the room with your eyes, searching for the one person you hoped to see. The guilt of hiding from him, of pushing away was eating you up and you wanted nothing more than to just make it right. You spot George and Lee in one of the corners, Harry and Hermione on one of the sofas and a few more people dotted around but no Fred.

“Blimey,” you heard to your left but instead of seeing the boy you’d hoped to find, instead you found Ron. His mouth was slightly parted and he was looking at you with an expression he’d never looked at you with before, focusing uncomfortably on a piece of your chest never wished to have his eyes.

You flinched as you watched Ron get smacked in the back of the head unexpectedly, making him wince and rub his head but you didn’t see anymore after his initial reaction, instead focusing your attention on his assailant. Fred.

“Look at my girl like that again and I’ll transfigure every piece of furniture in your room into a spider,” he says gruffly as he walks past Ron, keeping his eyes on you and moves to stand directly in front of you, reaching for your hand.

“Are you feeling better?” He says carefully, eyeing you with slight trepidation, making you frown.

“Much better,” you reply carefully, watching his reaction.

“Good, then I won’t feel guilty for this,” he says, pulling you forcibly by the hand until you bump into his chest, his lips finding yours almost immediately as he kisses you with a fiery passion.

“You look so hot,” he mumbles against your lips, hands finding your synched waist and bordering on inappropriately low as one hand tucks into your back pocket. You kiss back with just as much passion, happy that all the doubts and the insecurity had been wiped away, though you still felt guilty for pushing him away. “You’re never hiding from me again.”

He begins to tug at your side and you realise he’s pulling you away, towards the stairs to the dorms.

“But Freddie, breakfast,” you weakly protest.

“Can wait,” he mumbles, the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips as he barely parts from you, only enough to push you up the stairs towards his empty dorm, giving you a teasing smack on the ass as you ascend, for good luck. You never doubted his love for you again, especially not for the next hour.

[jenchan-writingmultis]

Hi, darling! Sorry for the bother, first and foremost. I've seen a similar post of yours before so I would like to see ur take on Cruella!Reader x Vil if it interests you enough. Their duo would really be smthng, especially w/ such distinct & contrasting personalities. I would love to see it platonic. Have fun & thanks!

Add a Little more Flair

‿︵‿︵‿୨ ୧‿︵‿︵‿

A/n: ackk you’re so sweet Anonnie, I didn’t expect being called a darling (๑>◡<๑) and the fic you might be talking about is Beauty in Chaos! Genre: Fluff Pairing: None (Platonic Vil & Gn Reader) Credits: The design was made by me in Canva and the art that was used is all from the Official Twisted Wonderland Cards. The line breakers are from Kaomoji dividers! Masterlist

‿︵‿︵‿୨ ୧‿︵‿︵‿

If there was a dormitory you were most suited for, it was Pomefiore, you just felt at home in the luxurious vibe of it, while in your world before, you were someone who got by and was financially stable enough to buy the latest fashion trends of outfits, in this world you had a tiny bit of problem with that.

With no income to take out from, the thaumarks you’re given could only be used for necessities that could sustain you and Grim, any extras would be used to renovate Ramshackle. You were fine with it of course; however, you knew your worth and hoped that the extra overtime you had to put in due to Crowley’s incompetence would soon be recognized and rewarded. He was fortunate you hadn't filed a complaint.

When you first met Vil, you didn’t expect him to look this divine at all, he was the epitome of beauty! However, you knew that he could use a bit of glitz in his taste in fashion, you would expect someone like him to choose colors that truly highlighted his features, rather than the bland shades that made him blend in with all the "Potatoes."

“You know,” You spoke, breaking the tension that was marinating in the living room of Pomefiore, the reason you were there was because Epel decided to invite you to play cards with him, Ace and Deuce, using some new game cards from his hometown that his grandmother gave him, but didn’t expect that Vil would be around and not doing any housewarden duties outside.

“What is it?” Vil glanced down, surprised by your sheer audacity to stop him from scolding Epel for inviting you and the others without his permission. “You’re gorgeous” you blurt out as you touch the helm of his sleeve “But would it hurt you to add a little more flair to your outfits?” you let his sleeves go. Vil’s eyes narrowed “What do you mean by that?” he questioned further, crossing his arms as his eyebrows furrowed, not expecting you to give constructive criticism on his outfit, especially since all he’s wearing is his dormitory’s robe, what’s wrong with it? , but he’ll bite, he’s curious about what you have to say.

“There’s no rule against adding a personal touch to your uniform,” you said, your hand gently clasping his wrist as you pulled him closer, your eyes fixated on the luxurious silk fabric. “You could incorporate some elegant jewelry,” you suggested, your voice trailing off as you imagined the possibilities. “And how about a stylish fur coat? Wouldn’t that be fun?”

“What exactly are you suggesting?” He was growing increasingly confused by your mixed-up words. Did you want him to add jewelry? Wouldn’t that overshadow his face if he wore fancy jewelry or a fur coat? Who are you? Crewel?

“If you’d let me, I’d be thrilled to sketch a design to make Pomefiore’s uniform more lavish!” you exclaim, your earlier composure giving way to enthusiastic fangirl excitement.

“Hey- dude- I don’t think” Epel was going to grab your shoulder, but you ducked down on your bag, opening it and pulling out a sketchbook. “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity Epel!” you said, eyes twinkling, “Pomefiore is one of the most eye-catching dormitories I’ve seen out of all the dormitories, it'll be nice if I could find a way to make all of your designs more outstanding”

Hearing that made Vil huff almost proudly, “Well, with a compliment like that” he drawls out, eyes closing as he presses his hand on his head, “If you could present to me a “lavishing” design of an outfit, then you’re free to do so,”

Epel stares at you out of shock, along with your two other friends, even Grim is surprised. “I didn’t expect you to have such a …” Epel tried to find the right word while looking shocked, But Rook popped out of nowhere and finished his sentence. “passionné for beauty?”

“Gah!” Epel squeaks out, while you are busy sketching a quick sketch of your inspiration. “Bonjour” he greets, eyes scanning everyone as he goes beside Vil, who is intently watching. “My, the sketch on the other side shows experience in their work” he compliments you, as his eyes tear off from your book to Vil, “If the outfit they sketch fancies you” he says, as he backs away, creating a bit of distance to fully admire Vil, who glanced at him “Would you consider changing the design of our fair uniforms? Roi du Poison?”

“That’ll depend” he sighs, while he was intrigued that you immediately went to work in front of him, he has an inkling of suspicion that you were related to Crewel in some way, one of the professors that helps him with the creations of designs.

“Here” You shoved the sketch into his hand, and he grabbed it, scanning the piece of work you created, he’s impressed, this looked rather beautiful he’ll give you that, but with how big you made the fur that was wrapped around the host’s shoulder, (which he thinks might be him due to the hairstyle)  you made him look like some kind of beast, which irked him, remembering how Leona is. Overall, the colors that were added were solely complimenting and making the individual dorm robes prettier.

“While I certainly think that the… furs are lovely” he says, looking at you while you look back at him with sparkling eyes, as if you’re waiting for his approval, for some reason, he couldn’t say what he’s about to say to your face, sighing in defeat, he hands you back your notebook. “How about you give me a physical design of this?”

“Really?” you nearly jump as you grab your notebook, closing it swiftly, but freezing up as you stare at him, a nervous smile etched to your face “I… don’t have the materials”

“I know,” Vil said, extending his hand expectantly. A student promptly placed Vil’s wallet into his palm. “That’s why I’ll be sponsoring you for the silk and equipment you’ll need,”

Rook watched the entire exchange with a gentle smile, pleasantly surprised that Vil hadn't rejected the idea outright. Vil was known for his discerning standards and rarely entertained notions he deemed absurd. As Rook tapped his chin thoughtfully and gazed intently at Vil, he wondered if Vil genuinely desired a fur scarf, or if it was a test of your sincerity in your admiration for the Pomefiore Dormitory. New designs were always welcome in Pomefiore, but the housewarden had high expectations for anything that adorned his dorm. As long as they met his exacting standards and were deemed beautiful in his eyes, they had a chance.

“Are you sure about this?” You felt guilty as Vil showed you a credit card, was he going to let you run around with it? It’s a black card too!

Seemingly reading your mind, Vil scoffed. “You’re mistaken if you think I’ll just hand this over to you,” he said, seeing your hand twitch toward the scarf only for it to be pulled away and slipped back into the dark purple wallet. “I’ll be accompanying you to the mall,” he declared. Epel, wide-eyed, gasped, “What?” and quickly went besides you instead of staying behind.

“I doubt you’d know what fabric our dormitory use,” he remarks before shushing you when you were about to speak, knowing that you were about to say the exact fabric that it uses “And even if you do, you don’t have any expenses to create one”

“But-“ he glares at you, effectively shutting you up, he knows you were planning to appeal to him that you can buy the fabric on your own, and while that was what you were planning to do, it wasn’t to max out the credit card, but it’s to avoid burdening Vil.

“I will come with you, no questions asked,” he finishes, turning away, “Also please find an appropriate attire for that, we’ll leave in Friday “As he leaves you stood there dumbfounded, you turned your head to Epel, who looked as shock as you.

“…. I don’t have an appropriate attire to wear for Friday”

“That’s what you’re worried about!?”

The day you were anticipating with Vil wracked your nerves either way, your wardrobe wasn’t exactly befitting you, especially with your will to look as impressive as you are currently, which isn’t as impressive as one thinks.

You only had a few shirts, and some pants that Crowley bought you during his time of vacation the blinding color of bright orange and light blue made your eyes sore, and that design…

You gulp, grabbing it, your uniform’s pants were already dirty, and you would either suck it up and go like this or smell bad, a “pick your poison” type of choice.

“What in the world are you wearing.” Is what Vil said the moment he knocked on your door, expecting a decent outfit instead of whatever monstrosity you decided to assault his eyes with.

“It’s not that bad” you jab, not wanting to look down at all as you tried your best to at least make the colors work but it became a rainbow of disaster instead.

“You’re not going to go out with me in that outfit” he pushes you back in,  as a flurry of protest came out, Grim was currently out with Ace and Deuce, talking about going on a hangout without you as revenge for going to the mall with Vil only. The moment Vil reached your bedroom, you sat down on your bed with a huff, “Surely you’re just creating a mockery of me with how horrendous that outfit is” he said, glaring at the wardrobe as he opened it, only to reveal… nothing. His eyes widen at the sad aura the inside was letting out, it almost looks depressing. “You weren’t just making it up” he droops a bit as you stand up, “my uniform is in the laundry I haven’t cleaned it up” You sigh, feeling embarrassed by the lack of finesse. Vil sighs exasperatedly, offering his hand as he pinches the bridge of his nose “I have spare clothing that would look better on you” he extends his hand for you to take easier, which you do, not wanting Vil to come dragging you out.

Strolling back to Pomefiore with his hand on yours, he immediately goes to his bedroom, opening his own wardrobe, which has its own room.

Vil checked on the plastered tags on each outfit, these were what he had worn long ago, surely there was one that would fit your vibe and whole aesthetic, as you watched from behind him, Vil’s attention diverted to a black outfit that would fit your figure, he promptly takes it out, giving it to you. “Here”

Your eyes fixated on the black outfit that Vil pulled out, feeling a magnetic pull on it as you grabbed the outfit, “I’ll try it on” you declared before Vil could even say anything, a faint smile was now plastered on his face as he chuckles “Very well” he liked people who didn’t question his taste, and much more if they understood that what he picked was simple phenomenal, it fits you.  He couldn’t stop his heart from fluttering since this time you didn’t question or debate him with his taste.

Which made him wonder if he wanted your approval?

The moment he walks out of the wardrobe room, you start to dress up, pushing the fabric down, to smoothening the wrinkles off your outfit. To others the outfit might be extreme considering you’re not going to a fancy party, just going to the mall to go on a shopping spree. However, to you and Vil, looking your best no matter what situation it was crucial.

You stared at the huge mirror in front of you, humming while you thought it looked great however something was missing, more specifically… you look around hand touching each fabric as you feel something soft, eyes widening out of mirth as you grab it out of the hanger, your expression beams as you wrap it around yourself.

“A scarf! Perfect!” You squealed out as you looked at yourself, now you look fantastic!

Vil on the other hand was sitting down, fixing his face with light makeup, the fabric had a subtle sheen, catching the light with every movement, and the jacket's sharp lines accentuated his impeccable taste. Complementing the suit was a silk tie in a deeper shade of violet, perfectly knotted and adding a touch of luxury to his ensemble. It fits him, hopefully your unique taste made your body and face stand out as well as his does.

Although, in his mind, when it comes to elegance, both the body, face, and the attire they’d be wearing speak volumes of what kind of person one truly is.

“I’m done” his thoughts were cut briefly as his eyes darted to where you were, he blinked in surprise at how you looked. The outfit you were wearing was perfect, it made you look elegant, as well as the fur scarf that was draped on your shoulders, he didn’t even think that he had one hiding in his wardrobe, and is that…

“Are those some of my jewels?” he chuckles, standing up and walking over to you. As he pushes your hair back, admiring the intricate design of the earrings you picked out. You’ve outdone even his expectations.

You earned his respect, unaware of his admiration for your taste you sheepishly grin, “You don’t mind right?” you asked, fiddling with your fingers as Vil shook his head. “Nope, I trusted my judgment to let you pick your own clothing after giving you that outfit”

He pats your head before stopping himself, not wanting to ruin the hairstyle you picked out for yourself, “I didn’t expect us to both be wearing something extravagant just to go on a shopping spree” You laughed, nudging his arm “Please, the employees might think we’re millionaires” you joked, making Vil laugh with you. “I am a worldwide known model, they’ll know that, for you though,” he hums, thinking about the possible scandal, which he prepared thoroughly for, as he walks over to his phone, grabbing it. “I decided to go to the mall my father frequents,” he adds, tapping his phone as he texts his driver. “My reputation won’t be scandalized with that mall, since it is often frequented by businessmen and ambassadors”

You nod in acknowledgment, excited to go to a mall with such high profiled people around. “Alright, I’m fine with that” You tap the heels of your feet, trying to fit the shoes that you picked out better, you’re pleasantly surprised that Vil almost had all the sizes, man or woman, which is great.

The moment you went out of Night Raven, Epel went to meet up to you, he looked a bit flustered seeing you in such an outfit that it looked almost natural. He was going to check If Vil was going to drag you but didn’t realize that you wanted to do this in the first place, the bracelet you were wearing, the lipstick and light make up you placed on your face fluctuated your prettiness, making Epel look pale in comparison to you. Rook on the other hand, spouted compliment after compliment to you and Vil, how you two looked like partners in crime, Vil’s nose crinkled as he sighs.

“Enough with the pointless compliments Rook, I appreciate it” he stops Rook, who obediently went silent, a small smile on his lips plastered on his face.  “We’re running late, take care of the dormitory in the meantime”

“Oh, Roi du Poison, I apologize for keeping you,” he says as he walks closer, touching Vil’s hand and placing a kiss on it. “Have fun on your trip, I’ll make sure to keep Pomefiore in flawless shape once you’re back”

Vil nods as he opens the door to the back seat, letting you go in first before he does. The driver greets both of you with a good morning before Vil instructs him to drive.

You had a mirror with you as you reapplied a bit of your chipped makeup because Epel hugged you tightly to the point some of your makeup stained his uniform, hopefully, the foundation you used was easy to take off, worried for your friend’s outfit.

During the whole ride to the mall, you and Vil were silent, both busy with your own thing, the driver who thought you might be Vil’s lover started to feel uneasy that he might have gotten it wrong, happy that he didn’t decide to pry into Vil’s life.

After the ride, you and Vil managed to arrive at the mall safely, your eyes once again sparkling as your heels tap on the pristine floor, the whole vibe of the mall screams luxury, with well-known brands from all over the world spreading out. Louis Vuitton, Chanel, and Prada are on the first floor already. “Wow” you gasp out while Vil smiles, no matter how many times he has gone here already, the architectural designs of the building never fail to impress him either way, the mix of nature and intricate designs, it made him feel at home sometimes.

Too bad you’re only around here to buy fabrics for the creation of the uniform you desire. “Where should we go from here?” you asked, eyes tearing away from admiring and back to Vil’s face.

Vil hums as he walks forward, not looking behind since he knows you’ll follow, like a chick to a mother hen. “Since we’re already here” he trails, “might as well buy something for you”

“What?” your eyes widen, buying, here? Sure, you could do that in your world before, but currently, you don’t have a cent to your name as Vil only gave you a dismissive wave. “Think of it as repayment for helping me snap out of my Overblot” he says, hoping that this adventure of yours wouldn’t look like he’s always going to give out charity.

“Also” he adds, staring down at you realizing the stark contrast of your horrendous outfit to the one he recommended you in, “I rather see you in decent outfits than that monstrous combination you had due to your limited wardrobe” “Fair” you said, nodding at that outfit you had to force yourself to wear.

Half of the day was spent with you and Vil idly picking dresses, outfits that would fit you, ranging from what you can wear for outside, inside, formal and others. Vil seemed to have said less about your unique taste, realizing how much you love synthetic fur, similar to Crewel.

“Are you related to Crewel?” he asked since you two recently just finished a shopping spree, with him carrying your bags since he could never let you carry Them, you carried a few bags, but most of it was carried by him, you, who was munching on the parfait you ordered. “No” you flat out said, if you were related to him, he would have given you plenty of outfits instead of leaving you with one uniform and a few other uniforms such as PE pants and shirt.

“Your taste in outfit reminded me of his” Vil hums out, taking a bite of the banana cue desert. “Oh please, if he was truly related to me,” you add, pointing the spoon at Vil, “You think I would have to wear that blinding orange, blue pants with matching maroon colored shirt?”

Vil laughed pushing the spoon down with his spoon “Seriously” he chuckled, hiding his lap using his hand. “You’re hopeless with that outfit, I’m glad I dragged you here”

You smile softly, liking the way that he relaxed around you. You and Vil were like two peas in a pod. After taking a quick break, you grabbed the sketchbook you had out, looking at the fabric you needed and how much you needed. Vil stared at the sketchbook before guiding you up to the last floor, where they sell fabric. “Is this where the fabric for Pomefiore was bought?” you asked, curious if that’s how expensive it would be if that was true, imagining the expenses already made you dizzy.

“Of course, not” he flat out said, making you droop “Then what’s our trip for here?” you complained, unsure if you want to use any other type of fabric if you’re truly set out in changing the form of their attires.

“Fret not” he says rather confidently, “The fabric here is more top-notch than ours,” he says “If you manage to create a fascinating example of your sketch, then I’ll try contributing extra money to have the headmaster let us handle the major changes,” he says, causing you to think about it more deeply. If you could do a good job in this, then your desired outfit will come true!

Nodding to Vil, you went ahead and went inside the store to get the necessary things you need. It only took you about an hour to pick as the employee is ecstatic to see the Vil Schoenheit buy from them. After finishing, Vil was already having trouble carrying the plethora of bags, so you two decided to sit down for a second, as he calls for the driver.

The driver immediately went to aid both of you, sweat dropping when he saw how many bags you and Vil had, is that even going to fit the trunk?

Miraculously the driver managed to get it all in, with minimal struggling, he should get a raise for his hard work as he smiles proudly at Vil, who gives him a tip for his work. “Good job, my father compensates you fairly, yes?” he asked as he went in, the driver pocketing the money as he nodded. “Yes sir, thank you for trusting me in your endeavor,” he said, as he started the car, quite happy that Vil was like his father, nice and sweet.

The moment they reached the Night Raven College’s parking lot, Vil already had a few students called out, specifically Rook and Epel, who was surprised by the number of bags. “Some of them shall be distributed to the Pomefiore students” he states, Epel is surprised remaining as he received an article of clothing, this is… a clothing from Prada?!

You who went out looking pretty as ever went to hug Epel who hugged back, but he just showed you the contents of the bag. “What is this?!” he asked, hoping that it wasn’t your money or you who coerced Vil to buy such expensive clothing.

“I didn’t! that’s all your housewarden’s doing” you teased, ruffling Epel’s hair. While Vil went to speak with the other students, handing them distinctive clothing that he put a lot of thought into buying, the driver went to give you the fabric and designs you had bought.  Carrying it, you walk to Vil. “Vil” you called out, catching Vil’s attention almost immediately, you seemed to struggle carrying the heavy bag so he advised Rook to carry it, which he did without complaining. “Thank you” You were starting to take off the gold jewelry you were wearing since you are planning to go back to your Ramshackle, thinking about how you left it locked all day, plus you wanted to start working on designing.

Vil stops you as he sighs “Just keep it, wear it whenever we go out” he adds before touching your cheek and giving it a pinch “It suits you, get some rest, I’ll be taking my rest as well” he advises, making you smile. “Sure, Good night Vil,” you said as you took off your heels, feeling the sole of your feet throb from all that walking. “Rook, you don’t mind escorting them back right?” Vil said, as Rook nodded, “Of course Roi du Poison” he looked down at you “You don’t mind me right Trickster?” he said softly, you laughed slightly“Of course not,” you said, as you were going to rest for awhile at first, but Epel seemed to have noticed that your legs were starting to hurt, he goes to take his shoes off, giving it to you. “Here, your feet looked bad” he mutters, as you watch him kneel down, grabbing your leg. “Oh!” you jolt at the sudden gentlemanly behavior of your friend, who seemed flustered having to do this. “Thank you, Epel,” you said, after he finished you ruffled his hair making him whine “Hey!” As you bid farewell to the Pomefiore students and the housewarden, Rook was silent throughout the way back to Ramshackle, he stood there, as you checked to see if the door was still unlocked, and to your surprise, It was unlocked, upon opening it you see Grim who was playing cards with Ace and Deuce. “Took you long enough!” Ace glared at you, clearly disdained at the idea that you had to be gone the whole day. “Grim was crying the whole time you were gone” Deuce teased as he placed the +4 uno card down, making both your friends whine and throw the Uno cards down. “I quit!” Ace huffs, clearly annoyed that Deuce was kind of good with this. You chuckle as Rook goes inside, “Bonjour” he greets them once again with a smile, seeing the heavy bag, the trio went to clean the table in order to make way for the bag.

“Merci” Rook says softly, as he lets the bag go. Grim already went to look inside, expecting tuna but all he saw was fabric. “What is this?” he whined as you sigh, sitting down on the couch, and planting your head on the soft pillow. “You were there when I asked Vil to let me design the robes right?” “Yeah” Ace nods, scratching the back of his neck, “I thought you were joking?” he admitted, making you laugh. “That’s ridiculous,” you said, as Rook smiled. “I admire your resilience Trickster” he turns around “I hope to see the fruits of your labor soon” he adds as he waves goodbye, to you and your friends, not wanting to intrude further. You sigh, realizing that you showed your project to Vil way too early, not thinking about the amount of hard labor you’ll have to do, while you’re happy with the outfits he bought you aren’t exactly sure if the payment matches the labor you’ll be doing.

Realizing your little problem as if he’s a mind reader, Ace sighs “We can help you if you want” he offers, making you glance at him, Deuce didn’t seem to be bothered by the idea. “I agree,” he adds “It’ll be payment for helping us on the overblot last time”

Grim who huffed, crossing his arms while he flops his ears “I guess it’s fine by me too”

“You guys…” you smile, jumping on them as you hug them tightly, “Thank you so much” you said, happy that they were friends you could rely on.

So, in a few weeks, you had help, making the workload much easier, the design had to be tweaked and you went to Pomefiore just to measure Vil’s width, height, and length, taking an extra robe for reference too.

You truly made your friends go ragged, Ace looked like he’s on death’s door with how he’s been cutting fabric, and measuring it, while Deuce helped you with knitting, and Grim, whose tiny paws were starting to get tired of holding your sketchbook.

After a whole month of nonstop grinding, you were happy that schoolwork was lenient as well, with the professors busy preparing for other events, and guiding each individual club.

The moment your past sleepless nights finally paid off as the design you created came to life, your eyes sparkled, falling down on the floor, making Ace catch you. “Hey! Careful!” he scolds you, but you just laugh. ‘It’s done” you said, feeling exhaustion creeping into your system, “Hey… Call Vil I’m going to…” before you can even finish the sentence, your vision goes black.

The only things you felt were being carried, placed on something soft, as you drift into sleep.

After a few hours, you heard talking, making you stir up from your sleep. “… the fabric is nice..” you heard as you regained your senses, with Vil already tracing his fingers on your finest creation. You jolt awake, and the sudden sit up made your head ache. “Don’t move” Vil said, noticing you’re finally awake as he walks towards you, giving you water. “You…” he glares at you, eyebrows knitting in frustration. “I never set a deadline” he said apprehensively, “So why in the sevens did you have to push yourself that hard?”

You scratch your cheek sheepishly “Sorry, I thought that if I don’t finish it within a month you would forget” you admit, knowing that Vil’s expectations were high you truly didn’t want to disappoint him.

Vil sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose once again when he felt a migraine coming. “You did a great job,” he says, making you jolt cause that compliment was out of nowhere “But if you created the outfit with moderation” he adds, standing up from kneeling to go to your eye level, “I wouldn’t feel guilty for having high expectations for you.

“Wait, do you mean?” you frown, your hard work would go to waste if he disregarded it. “The outfit is fascinating, however, I cannot just implement such a complicated design”

You were close to crying, all that work just for nothing. “However” Vil added with haste “I could wear this in occasion” he said, “Like foundation day, I’ll keep this” It was rare for Vil to stumble over his words, placing a hand on your head, “So, don’t cry, you did great, splendid even” Feeling relief wash over you, you lean to the pat, “Thank you”

[chamomiletealeaf]

Birthday Gifts

Simon Riley x afab!fem! reader

a/n: In honor of Simon's birthday on the 18th, I give you this 🤭 I also wrote this to Birthday by JP Cooper.

Warnings: sub! Simon, a real sloppy blowjob, riding Simon, pet names, reader is super touchy and sweet with Simon

taglist: @thatonepupkai

You turned the stove down as the steak in the pan sizzled. You had some music playing while you waited for Simon to come home and couldn't wait to surprise him with a nice steak dinner and some kisses. Not to mention the cute little baby blue satin slip dress lingerie you had on under his hoodie you wore.

It was Simon's birthday, and he had been on base all day since he refused to take the day off even when Price assured him it would be alright. What a stubborn man he was. The good thing is it gave you time to fix up this little surprise you had for your boyfriend and you knew the task force would take good care of your man on his special day.

Simon had a rough life, so you understood why he didn't enjoy reflecting back on it, like celebrating a birthday. You're surprised he even told you when it was. But you were determined to help change his outlook on his birthday, because without it, you wouldn't have him, and he wouldn't have you.

You set the table and lit a few candles with a smile humming along to the music, really wanting to set the mood for the special day.

You headed back to the stove to check the mashed potatoes and that's when you heard the key jiggle in the lock on the back door making you nearly jump with joy.

Simon trudges in with a sigh and you run up to him and throw yourself in his arms before he can even say hi to you.

You run up to him and throw your arms around his neck, placing little kisses all over his face while he regains his balance.

"Hi honey! Happy birthday baby!" You say between kisses.

Simon tries to hide his smile by biting the inside of his cheek but lets a light laugh out while he drops his hands to your hips.

You then grab his hand and lead him into the kitchen with you to show him what you've been cooking.

"C'mon I made you some dinner baby." You say, giddily skipping into the kitchen dragging Simon with you.

Simon looks at the stove and sees your pot of homemade mashed potatoes, pan seared steak, and seasoned green beans waiting to be eaten.

"Oh lovey, you did all this for me?" Simon says, taking note of the beautifully decorated dining table set for you and a little vase of flowers in the middle.

"Of course I did, it's your birthday." You say with a smile. while you dip a spoon into the potatoes and raise it to his lips with a hand underneath it so none of it goes to waste.

"Here try this baby, tell me if it's good." You say, and Simon leans forward to take the spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth and he makes an approving grunting noise.

"Mmm, damn love that's really good." He says, licking his lips.

You beam up at him wide eyed at his praise, glad that your surprise is at a good start so far.

"Really? It's not too salty? I don't need anything else?" You ask, ready to fix whatever it is he wants.

"No they're absolutely delicious. They're perfect. Just like you." Simon says, giving a little pinch to your cheek making you giggle.

"Go on and sit down honey, I'll get this all ready for you. I made everything just the way you like it." You say, and Simon doesn't know how to respond. He's never received affection like this before you, and he's not sure how to process it.

He stands there in the kitchen for a second looking at you getting ready to plate the food, deciding on what he should do next, but you smile at him and shoo him out the kitchen.

"Go on! Go sit, I'll be right there." You giggle, excited to spoil him.

Dinner was delicious. It's been so long since Simon or you have had a real home cooked meal like this. You were always too busy to cook from scratch like this and Simon was sick of the cold and bland mess hall food.

You two had spent dinner feeding each other bites off each other's forks, giggling, and bumping your feet against his legs while looking up at him through your eyelashes. You just looked so pretty.

When dinner was over, you had a little treat for him for dessert that you hid in the fridge.

"I have something else for you. Wait right here." You whispered to him before getting up to go to the kitchen.

You giggled as you took the red velvet cupcake out from the fridge and placed a candle in it, trying to mute the sound of the lighter as much as you could to not give away your surprise.

A few seconds later, you walked back into the dining room with the tiny cake on a saucer for him, which made him laugh.

"Happy birthday honey." You say again as you place it in front of him before kissing his cheek and taking your seat next to him.

"Go on, make a wish." You smile at him, and he smiles back.

"I've already got my wish right in front of me." He says and you push his chest with a laugh.

"No c'mon, seriously, make a wish. And you can't tell me what it is or it won't come true." You say, and he rolls his eyes, finally closing them and making a wish before blowing out the candle.

"Yay!" You clap your hands together and lean in to give him a kiss on his cheek, then his lips before you take the candle out of the cupcake and bring it to his lips.

"C'mon try it. It looked so good when I saw it in the store today." You said.

"Oh so you made dinner homemade but not this?" He jokes with a smirk and you act offended.

"Ok now you don't get it at all." You tease as you tug the cake away, and he grabs your wrist.

"No ok I'm sorry baby I'll try it." He says, but as he leans in to bite the cupcake from your hands you shove it into his nose making him grunt.

You erupt into laughter while he sputters with frosting all on his nose and mouth.

"Oh you little fuckin- tease." He says with a laugh, and you lean in to lick the frosting off the tip of his nose.

You're a giggling mess looking at Simon with frosting all on his mouth trying to wipe it off.

"Here, I have a better idea to clean you up." You say quietly, laughter dying down as you kiss him.

You kiss him through the sweet frosting on his lips and he moans. You climb into his lap straddling it while you lick your tongue into his mouth, really getting a taste of the cake you just shoved in his face.

"Mm.. How's the frosting lovey." Simon teases and you giggle.

"Tastes almost as good as you." You respond, deepening the kiss.

When all the frosting is off his lips, you continue making out with Simon as you grind your hips down into his lap making him moan.

He grips your hips and bucks up into you with a whine and you move to nibble on his ear.

You bite and lick at Simon's ear making his breathing get heavier as you whisper into it.

"I have one more surprise for you baby." You whisper, Simon's grip on your hips getting stronger as you continue to grind on him in the dining room chair.

You lean back and grip the hem of his hoodie you're wearing to pull it over your head, revealing your satin baby blue slip lingerie you had bought for tonight.

The lingerie was tiny and allowed your ass to peek out from under it as well as the matching cute little excuse for panties to go with it. The satin clung perfectly to your tits, your hardened nipples poking through it showing Simon how ready you were for him and the satin panties clung to your now dripping pussy.

"Fuck dovey. You look fuckin' stunning." Simon says breathlessly, pushing you back so he can get a look.

"Lemme see these little panties yeah?" He asks, and you life up the slip just enough for him to see the wet patch forming on them.

"Fuckin' 'ell." Simon moans through gritted teeth as he goes to massage your tits next, moving his gaze from your panties to your nipples. He palms at your tits through the satin and goes to suck on your nipples through the fabric.

You both moan and you grab his hair, pushing him deeper into your chest.

"Yeah, just like that baby, it's all for you." You coo at him and continue to grind into him as he sucks your tits through the satin lingerie.

After a few moments, you gently push Simon away and he looks at you with the sweetest, honey colored puppy eyes you've ever seen.

"Aw don't worry honey, We're not done. C'mon, follow me." You climb off Simon's lap and guide him by the hand to the couch and he follows like a lost pup.

"Go on baby sit down, want you to be nice and comfortable yeah?" You say, and Simon obeys, eyes never leaving yours.

He sits down and watches as you maneuver between his legs onto your knees while you run your hands up and down his thighs.

"Wanna make my birthday boy feel good. He deserves it doesn't he?" You ask him and he just gulps in response.

"Aw c'mon sweetie, tell me you deserve it." You demand softly and he relents.

"I- I deserve it." He mumbles out, staring at you with his big, tired, honey colored doe eyes.

"Deserve what?"

"To feel good."

"Good boy." You coo, and he swallows thickly again, your praise sending shocks down his spine straight to his cock.

You unbuckle his belt and pull his throbbing cock out before giving it a few pumps.

Simon hisses and throws his head back while you jerk him off lightly.

"Oh fuck." He murmurs, and you smile.

You lean down to lick from the base of his cock all the way up to his already leaking tip.

Simon was fucking thick and about 8 inches long. He was fucking big and it always made you drool at the mere thought of his pretty cock, let alone having it stuffed in your mouth or pussy.

You finally spit on his cock and take him into your mouth. You slowly push him down as far as you could take him, gagging a little more than halfway down, the contraction making Simon buck his hips.

You then start to speed up, lewd and wet noises coming from your mouth as you suck him off like your life depended on it.

"God, fuck. Such a perfect little mouth." Simon whines as his eyes roll to the back of his head as he bites his fist.

You giggle and start to bob your head up and down, twisting and pumping your fist around the rest of him you couldn't take into your mouth.

"Yeah just like that. Fuck." Simon moans again, watching you take his cock happily down your throat as saliva starts to spill out of your mouth and down your chin, some getting onto your chest and his thighs.

You pop him out of your mouth and lean forward to rest your tits on his thighs while you jerk him off, string of saliva connecting you to his cock.

Thick, wet squelching sounds fill the room as you jerk him off.

"Yeah? you like when I blow you like this? All nice and messy hm?" You coo at him and he nods, head going dumb to where all he can do is nod and babble.

He looked so pretty with his eyebrows furrowed and mouth wide open panting for air. His cheeks were the prettiest shade of pink and you couldn't help but smile at how cute he looked like this.

You take him back in your mouth as you jerk and suck him again, your saliva continuing to drip all over the two of you and spilling over your hand wrapped around his cock. This was probably the sloppiest blowjob you've ever given him and he was in absolute heaven.

"Fuck love I- I'm gonna cum-" Simon babbles out between whimpers.

But no matter how pretty he looked like this, this wasn't how you wanted him to cum.

You stop your movements right before he cums making him whine.

"Wh- why'd you stop?" He looks down at you with the sweetest and saddest eyes like a kicked puppy, and you can't help but sympathize with him.

"Oh I know baby, I know." You coo, rubbing your hands up and down his thighs.

"But I want you to cum inside me. My birthday boy deserves to cum in a nice, tight, wet little pussy hm?" You ask and he nods his head, eyebrows still furrowed.

"That's a good boy." You say with a smile, and stand up, seductively taking off your panties before you straddle him.

Normally you would have teased him a bit, rubbing his cock against your covered pussy, but today was about him and only him. You were gonna make your man feel the best he's ever felt on his special day.

You slowly sink down onto Simon's cock making him throw his head back and let out a choked moan as his hands fly to your hips.

You slowly rock back and forth, getting used to his size before you start properly riding him.

Once you've become accustomed to his size, you lean forward into his ear, resting your hands on his chest as you ride him.

"Yeah you like that? Like when I make you go dumb hm? Must be so tired being a big strong soldier all the time huh, just need to go dumb for a bit and not think don't you baby." You say into his ear and he whimpers in response.

"Yeah that's it, my baby deserves to be well fucked and fed. Especially on his special day hm?" You coo at him as you bounce your ass on his cock, the sounds of skin slapping and your squelching pussy fill the room as you fuck Simon on the couch.

Simon is a dumb fucking mess under you, not able to form a coherent sentence other than whimpers, babbles, and an occasional "fuck" that falls from his lips.

He grips your hips so hard that it hurts, but you love it. He drags his hands up to your waist, bringing the fabric of your slip dress up with his hands so he can watch you ride him. You lean back and place your hands on his knees to really give him a show as you start to bounce on him faster, making sure he sees your pretty body and face as you make him feel good.

"Fuck dovey I- mm fuck you're- hnnn- gonna cum- gonna fucking cum." Simon grunts out and you moan at his words, his cock hitting that perfect spot inside you.

"Go on honey, cum for me, cum inside my little pussy, it's all yours baby." You moan.

Simon tightens his death grip on your hips and subconsciously tries to fuck up into you, but you quickly lean into him again and place your hands on his hips to keep him down and to use as leverage as you ride him so hard you're sure your thighs are gonna be sore for the next week.

You press your tits into Simon's chest and suck on his neck as you feel him twitch inside you. You grab his face and press your forehead to his as you look into his eyes, wanting to watch him as he cums.

"C'mon baby, that's it, take your birthday present honey." You coo in his ear, and that's all it takes.

Simon's eyes roll into the back of his head and his cheeks flush pink as he cums inside you with a choked whine, he bucks his hips up and you feel him throb inside of you, filling you up more than he ever has.

Feeling him throb inside you as he cums triggers your own orgasm and you pulse around his cock, milking him dry.

You moan as you slow your pace, riding him through his orgasm and you through yours.

"Fuck- I love you so much love." Simon says as he kisses you, and you kiss back.

"I love you too honey." You smile against him, hugging and kissing him all over.

"Thank you. I loved my gifts. This one was my favorite though." He says with a smirk, and you giggle.

"You're welcome baby. Glad they were a hit." You say back with a huge smile plastered across your face.

"Of course they were. Couldn't have asked for anything better." He says, big dumb smile also plastered across his flushed face.

"Now, can we finish that cupcake?" He asks, and you laugh.

"Whatever you want, it's your birthday." You say, and Simon leans in for another kiss before picking you up and bringing you back to the table to finish sharing the red velvet cupcake you had given him.

Simon never knew a love like this was possible, and every day it's proven to him through you, not just on his birthday, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

[lightgaswaterelectricityrent]

your sweet potatoes are bland.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: On Food

A compilation of notes on how to describe food in writing.

How to Describe Food: Flavour & Texture

1. Write about the flavour.

Rich -> full, heavier foods. Often used to describe foods containing cream (e.g., potatoes & garlic, soup, and chocolate cake).

Bland -> has little or no flavour.

Bitter -> a tart, sharp, and sometimes harsh flavour (e.g., coffee).

Citrusy -> a bright flavour (e.g., lemons, limes, oranges, and other citrus fruits).

Fresh -> a light and crisp taste. Often used to describe produce or herbs. (e.g., apples, lettuce, cucumbers, carrots, etc. Or bakery items like breads, muffins, etc.)

Fruity -> any taste reminiscent of sweet fruit flavours (e.g., grapes, blueberries, peaches, etc.).

Smoky -> a taste reminiscent of the smell of smoke (e.g., BBQ).

Sour -> a biting, tangy, tart flavour (e.g., lemons, Sour Patch Kids, and other sour candies).

Sweet -> a sugary flavour (e.g., candies, ice creams, desserts, etc.).

Zesty -> a fresh, vivid, or invigorating flavour (e.g., tacos, Italian pasta salad, etc.).

2. Write about the texture:

Mushy -> soft, but in an unpleasant way (e.g., if you cook vegetables too long, they’ll get mushy).

Tough and chewy -> are similar. Both describe foods which are difficult to eat because you have to chew them for a long time (e.g., meat can be tough or chewy, especially if it’s cooked too long and it gets dry).

Tender -> similar to ‘soft’, but it’s mostly used to describe meat which is cooked well, so it’s soft and juicy.

Crunchy -> food that makes a lot of noise when you’re eating them (e.g., dry food – like potato chips, or hard cookies – can be crunchy).

Words to Describe Different Flavours

For rich, spicy, or savoury flavours. The following words represent complex, spicy, or flavourful seasonings and dishes: buttery, caramelized, peppery, piquant, salty, sapid, saporous, savoury, smoky, spicy.

For sweet or fresh flavours. These descriptors characterize fresh or sugary dishes: ambrosial, bittersweet, bright, fruity, honeyed, minty, nectarous, saccharine, sharp-tasting, sweet, syrupy, treacly, zesty.

For subtle flavours. Some dishes are on the milder side. You can use one of these words to describe the taste: bland, mellow, tasteless.

For sour flavours. A sour or complex taste can be challenging to articulate. Here are some descriptive words to help: astringent, briny, citrusy, fermented, sour, tart, vinegary.

For hard or crunchy textures. Use these words to describe a crispy or chewy texture: broiled, caramelized, crusty, flaky, leathery, sizzling, thick, thin, toasted, toothsome.

For soft or fluid textures. These words can help you describe drinks, desserts, or other soft items: crumbly, doughy, fizzy, gooey, juicy, luscious, mashed, mushy, rubbery, runny, simmered, smothered, spongy, sticky, tender, velvety, waxy.

For the smell of food. Here are common food adjectives you can use to describe smells: acrid, astringent, bright, citrusy, fermented, heady, honeyed, minty, nutty, peppery, pungent, rancid, rotten, smoky, sour, vinegary.

Tips for Describing Food in Writing

Be specific. There are a lot of food words that are vague or general, like “delicious,” “yummy,” “succulent,” “delectable,” “mouth-watering,” or “finger-licking.” Avoid these overused phrases. Focus on the food's particular flavour, texture, or smell to make your writing more evocative and precise. Rather than describing a soup as “tasty” or “scrumptious,” try more specific words like “buttery,” “chunky,” or “minty.”

Consider your purpose. Decide if your goal is to explain a culinary experience or make the food sound appetizing. A clear understanding of your intention and target audience can help you shape your writing to be the most compelling.

Evoke all the senses. While you lean heavily on taste to describe food, remember to explore the texture, smell, sight, and sound of a dining experience as well. Including sensory language that incorporates the other senses creates a more robust experience for readers.

Sometimes less is more. Food writing is most effective when it’s focused, allowing readers to zero in on the essential details of the dish. If you include too many descriptors or attach multiple adjectives to each noun, you can overwhelm or confuse readers.

Sources: 1 2 3 ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References ⚜ 100 Sensory Words

If these writing notes helped with your poem/story, please tag me. Or leave a link in the replies. I'd love to read them!

[rotten7rat]

Batfamily + Cooking

Alfred:

He's the main cook, and has been since taking the job as the Wayne's butler. Classically trained in the culinary arts, and thankfully stillvery much enjoys it, though not as much as he used to. He likes baking more than cooking, and has gotten more of a sweet tooth as he's gotten older. Leans more on your classic British dishes, but is always happy to try a requested recipe. Prefers to cook either alone or with competent help.

Bruce:

No. Cannot even be trusted to make a grilled cheese, he always burns them.

Barbara:

Pretty good. Very much a 'throw something together at 7:30, eat at 8' kind of person, but everyone is always happy to have what she cooks. If it takes hours to make then its not worth it. A teacher suggested once that being raised by a single father, she must do most of the cooking and cleaning, and after that she refused to learn how to cook out of sheer stubbornness.

Dick:

An excellent cook. I think it comes naturally to him, he didn't spend much time cooking growing up but once he taught himself the basics he can pretty much throw anything together. Its by no means a passion of his, but he does enjoy it. However, he doesn't cook often due to being too busy and/or tired, so he gets a lot of takeout or just has something quick or microwavable very often. But if he's cooking you best be there. Anything can be a social occasion and he happily accepts help in the kitchen. Not great at baking though, he always manages to over-cook or over-mix.

Cassandra:

I'm sorry but she will throw rice, water, and and an unseasoned chicken breast in the rice cooker and call it a night. Either that or she'll have a protein shake and seven eggs.

Jason:

Quite good. Unlike Dick, it doesn't come naturally to him, but he is a fast learner and picked it up mostly from Catherine, Alfred, and YouTube. That being said, would he prefer tortellini en brodo or four boxes of Kraft mac and cheese? Tamales or something quick and greasy from Bat Burger? Its always the second option. I think he often cooks as a distraction or just something to do, and just gives it to the single mother across the hall or throws it in the freezer to eat a week later.

Stephanie:

Decent. She'll see a recipe on TikTok and will try it instantly, and she's always excited to try something new. Works best with a recipe but decides just to wing it mostly. Cooking with her mother has become somewhat of a bonding activity. Really good at baking, especially things like brownies and cookies. However, she will also throw pickles, peanut butter and ice cream in a blender and swear it tastes fantastic. Is learning to cook more because everytime she sees Cass eating a boiled chicken breast she takes psychic damage. Trying to sneak meat alternatives into Cass without her noticing. It worked once.

Tim:

Not great. Will follow the recipe to the letter and will somehow still fuck it up. He mostly sticks to simple recipes that are hard to mess up, and also just doesn't have the desire to spend heaps of time in the kitchen. He does make a mean sandwich though, every time someone tries to replicate one its just never as good.

Duke:

Doesn't particularly enjoy cooking but he's fine at it. Not as bad as Cassandra, he will season his food, but prefers it to be quick and not complicated. Loves heavier foods like pastas and other carbs but doesn't have the patience or desire to make them from scratch so he uses jar sauces, frozen potatoes etc. Will put taco seasoning on everything.

Damian:

Good eventually. Doesn't cook a lot now, but when he was younger he had a kind of 'well obviously its not difficult, its just cooking' mindset. He was humbled. By Dick. I think when he's older he is much better. Will still follow a recipe so it is perfect every time. It isn't a hobby, just a task that must be completed, but he'll be damned if he's eating bland food, he will spend an hour preparing vegetable tagine. Nobody can help of even be in the kitchen with him while he is cooking, because they are breathing all the kitchen air and taking up all the room. Get out.

[renegadeguild]

Edible Book Day 2024

the appetizers

A Commonplace Snack by Daemonluna

A collection of tropes and other ephemera, rendered in nori and rice paper. Sewn with a glass sweet potato noodle, ornamented with cilantro and lime.

This is how we roll (bamboo slips) by anonymous

This is the first book I have made since joining Renegade. I didn't think I'd get to make books and eat them too.

The (Not Actually) Matzah Plague Board Book by Noodle and Noodle's Auntie

10 Plagues by Noodle and Noodle's Auntie. Illustration by Noodle and Noodle's Auntie. Writing and Binding by Noodle. Materials: Gluten Free Matzo Substitute, fruit roll ups, fruit by the foot, sour belts, licorice, fruit rolls, sour sticks, cumin, water.

a fluffy breaduation by Sandy Kitty Bindery

i do not regret anything... except maybe the dentist bills ;)

Pancake Scroll by Zhalfirin

This was a lot easier than I had anticipated. A bit bland because I wasn't sure what I'd do the painting with and therefore didn't season the batter. It goes really well with a side of salmon and soy sauce though.

the mains

the iron chef secret ingredient was lasers by Lark

lasers are friends not food.

6/10, at least I chose turkey this year.

The Count of Monte Cristo by Thunder (Dragon's Thunder Press)

This was my first book bind ever. The case is French toast. The 2 signatures are each made of 3 omelet folios, and they're sewn with mozzarella string cheese strands. The end pages are each a slice of prosciutto, and they're pasted in with raspberry fruit syrup. Finally, the titling was done with black icing.

Sandwiches (And Books) Are Beautiful by Velvetwastaken

The ‘book’ ultimately failed to be readable as such due to a betrayal by the onion binding. But it tasted amazing, and thus I think still encapsulated the spirit of edible book day: good books are meant to be devoured.

and of course… … the desserts!

Mistakes were Marbled by anonymous

I baked a strawberry cake with buttercream icing. The buttercream set a bit too quickly for the marbled effect to work, and attempts to fix it caused structural damage, resulting in ... this. I would like half-points for retaining good flavor, despite appearances.

Brandy Snaps by Lottie

Brandy snaps for the pages, strawberry laces for thread. Complete with two weaver’s knots to tie the strawberry laces together

Book Cookies by six

Sadly not fully functional books - the cases are rigid sugar cookies baked into various open forms. The pages are edible wafer paper marked up here and there w/ an edible ink pen and the frosting quite tasty! Experimented with two different sizes and various page configurations. Fed some of them to various Renegade members. There were no fatalities.

Titles are overrated by Zhalfirin

I'm still baffled this turned out the way it did.

It's a delicious little baumkuchen chonker (app. A6 in size and about 6cm thick) cased in chocolate powdered marzipan.

Don't forget to vote for your favorite! And check out last year's winners here.

[the-owl-house-takes]

I hate how the crew wasted so much time developing unneeded and rushed shit and completely ignored things that needed to be touched. They had no shame in ignoring characters like, Emira, Amity, Gus, etc.

They wasted chunks of episodes trying to redeem Alador just so the fandom can be happy, (Y'all just like him cause you get to baby him over your ADHD or Autistic headcanons about him and cause you can ship him with Darius). Yet ignore things like Amity as a character outside of Lumity, or Emira. Emira is great and would have been a good example of a child losing their childhood cause they had to raise their siblings. Credit to the anon who brought this to my attention.

Wasted episodes trying to shove Huntlow in our faces, it was unnecessary and bland. They worked well as friends, it made no sense that they tried to add another Canon ship.

If those didn't happen, we would have gotten so much. I hate how Amity's dream of joining the Emperors Coven was shifted to something Odalia forced on her. She was shown being SO HAPPY over the thought of joining the coven and got rightfully mad over being humiliated in front of said coven. But noooo, she's Luz's girlfriend now she can't have a goal that doesn't involve her sweet potato!!!!

Advice to anyone wanting to make a piece of media, don't clog up the story with unnecessary bullshit to the point you neglect characters with potential to be great. ESPECIALLY if you know well that you won't have time for development of said thing(s).

-

[tgmsunmontue]

You need to learn how to fall 7/10

Hangster (and IceMav) - Bradley is too tall to be a naval aviator and instead becomes a sky diver, specialising in spin recovery. He is a civilian contractor to the military to teach pilots how to survive parachute spins from ejections. A more in-depth version of this post.

PROLOGUE 2003-2006 2007-2010 2011-2015 2016+ ~2019

>>Bradley

>>Jake

                The messages start off sporadic, and he’s unsure how to respond, which tone he should use, because there’s the casual work-related and simply friendly messages, then there’s the flirty ones, and then, then, there’s downright pornographic messages going into detail what Jake would like to do to him. With him. He’s never backed off a challenge though and he can go toe-to-toe so he sends back an equal mix of messages, some bland and mundane, others his innermost fantasies. They’re soon messaging multiple times a day, sleepy early-morning selfies, photos of lunches, short videos.

…             …             …

>>You don’t walk like a man in the Navy, your hips have this roll to them and it drives me fucking wild watching it.

…             …             …

>>Had a jump today, someone passed out while falling. Scariest fucking thing I’ve dealt with in a while.

…             …             …

                A package arrives after about three months, and Bradley hadn’t mentioned sending him anything, but he knows it’s not from his mom. Bradley had mentioned helping bake some shortbread, lemon and rosemary; Jake had said he’d love to try it sometime and now… if he’s not mistaken, there are some sitting in a little container on his kitchen bench and he gets to try some. There’s a return address and he quickly adds it to the information under Bradley’s contact in his phone. The shortbread is delicious and he sends a quick selfie to Bradley of him taking a bite with the words thank you underneath.

…             …             …

>>Teaching has given me a new appreciation for how dumb some people are. I feel like I need to go and apologize to my high school teachers.

…             …             …

>>Your tongue drives me to distraction. When you’re flicking a toothpick I can’t help but wonder what you’d do with my cock.

…             …             …

>>Have I told you recently how much I don’t like sweet potato?

…             …             …

                Jake hasn’t had this much fun flirting with someone in a long time, just this continuous banter back and forth. It hasn’t reverted to dick-pics or sexting or anything more than some pretty explicit messages sent and received out of the blue. Younger him would have been impatient, but he’s now enjoying the journey. Looks forward to the little peeks into Bradley’s day just as much as he looks forward to reading how he might turn Bradley on. It’s all sorts of sweet and different and he can’t wait to see Bradley again.

…             …             …

>>Can I take you out to dinner next time you’re in town?

>>Think I’d be pretty disappointed if you didn’t.

…             …             …

                Ice calls him, tells him Mav is missing and his entire world freezes. They know nothing for certain, but he was flying, and then… something classified which Ice can’t divulge, but then he’s saying Mav might be alive, but simply lost, but they have no idea where and Bradley cannot fucking deal with this right now. He’s the one with PLBs sewn into his fucking jump-suits, he cannot believe the US Navy hasn’t done something similar for one of their pilots, let alone an entire fucking plane. How do they lose a pilot and a plane? Then Ice sends him a link to an unexplained explosion and he’s glad he’s already sitting down. Fuck. He thinks he might throw up.

                Then Ice is standing in the doorway, phone pressed to his ear, expression serious as he nods and says something Bradley cannot hear through the thick air he feels surrounded by.

                “He’s alive.”

                His heart beats.

                Slowly the air returns to something less solid and he can breathe again.

                “Thank fuck. God, I could kill him.”

                “Get in line… think I just aged another decade.”

                “You look good for a man nearing his second century, what with all the extra decades Mav must have added…”

                “I definitely feel that old some days.”

…             …             …

                Bradley’s time to return to Corpus Christi is quickly approaching and he’s feeling excited to see him again. He’s not expecting the papers that he’s handed, he’s mid-assignment, not expecting sudden redeployment and he opens them slowly.

                A special detachment.

                Advice to visit any family with two days of special leave.

                What the fuck.

                He’d otherwise be excited and rearing to go, but Bradley is meant to be flying into Corpus Christi in forty-eight hours. They’re meant to be getting dinner. The irony that he’s got to report to North Island in four days isn’t lost on him. Fuck. Can they not catch a break? Whatever this special detachment is, is going to be risky, otherwise the strong suggestion of visiting family wouldn’t be there coupled with the leave in which to make it happen.

                He has a choice.

                He could skip over seeing his family just to see Bradley. Or he could wait another couple of weeks because Bradley will be in North Island after his two weeks in Corpus Christi finishes. He might not be in North Island in two weeks, but he might never see his family again and as much as he wants to see Bradley, he needs to see his family.

                Fuck this mature adult bullshit.

                He picks up his phone and presses call, something they’ve never done before and it might break his resolve but he doesn’t want to put this through text on a screen.

                “Hi… This is new.”

                “Hi,” Jake says, and Bradley sounds good, relaxed and happy. So good.

                “What are you up to?”

                “Nothing. You?”

                “I’m about to get in a plane and jump out of it with a person strapped to me.”

                “You know, I think I might want to try it some time,” he says, and he means it, thinks he’d enjoy the rush, and the idea of being strapped to Bradley also holds a certain appeal.

                “Yeah? You let me know the time and place and I’ll take you up.”

                “Really?”

                “Of course. And I don’t want to rush you, but was there a special reason for a call? I’m kind of on a time crunch.”

                “Yeah. I just got new orders.”

                “Oh?”

                “I’ve been called in for a special detachment, and you would not believe where I’m going. At least to start with…”

                “North Island…”

                “Yeah.”

                “Talk about crap timing.”

                “Yeah. I’ve been given special leave to visit family,” Jake says, and he has no idea if Bradley knows what that might mean. He knows his dad was a pilot, but he’s been dead since Bradley was a toddler and he’s only had Bradley refer to his uncles raising him.

                “Fuck.”

                Okay. He knows.

                “I mean, I could stay here –”

                “No. Jake. You have to go and see your family. If they’ve granted you that leave it’s for a damned good reason. Fuck. Okay. So. I might see you in North Island after all. If you’re here in a couple of weeks that is…”

                “Yeah. Wild horses couldn’t drag me away.”

                “Only the US Navy.”

…             …             …

                His family are happy to see him, his mom organizing a quick family gathering and he’s grateful for the opportunity to see as many of his extended family as possible, although he hates the niggling in the back of his mind that resolves into telling his mom to take lots of photos. She looks close to tears, but she does as he asks, and his father grips his shoulder every time he brushes past. They all know what special leave means.

…             …             …

                He savors the messages more now, studies each of the photos that Jake sends him, asks questions about the other people in the photos. Even has a video call when Jake’s parents apparently insist on meeting whoever it is that Jake keeps messaging. Every moment he’s not intent on teaching and training he’s messaging Jake, hoping that he stays in North Island long enough for him to get back there and scared he won’t be.

…             …             …

                Jake’s been in North Island for ten days, and it’s been intense. Terrifying with what is expected of them, but still so exhilarating. This is why he became a naval aviator, why he worked so hard. There are just other things he’s realized he’d also like in his life. He looks at the house and it’s far bigger than he imagined Bradley having. Or needing. Maybe he shares with some others. The lights are on, he can see someone moving around inside and his stomach won’t stop swooping in anticipation. He knows Bradley gets in this evening, although he’s not sure of the exact time; not wanting to ask specifics for fear of showing his hand, wants to surprise him and also doesn’t want to wait longer before seeing him again.

                Jakes wipes his hands on his jeans, nervous. He’s gone from wanting something quick and dirty with Bradley to wanting… well, he still wants quick and dirty, he’s not a eunuch, however he also wants to take him to dinner and listen to him talk passionately about military free fall physics. Wants to bring him coffee the mornings after the quick and dirty. And its mornings plural, because he’s realized over the last few months (and maybe years?) that once is likely not going to be enough. Feel the fear and do it anyway, that’s how the saying goes right?

                He knocks on the door and waits, imagines what Bradley might be wearing, the look on his face as Jake surprises him with his appearance on his doorstep rather than at dinner tomorrow.

                He does not imagine Captain Maverick Mitchell. Although he definitely looks surprised.

                “Lieutenant. What are you doing here?”

                “Uh. Captain Mitchell.”

                “Yes. How did you get this address?”

                “Uh. I’m looking for Doctor Bradshaw.”

                “Bradley? Why?”

                Jake purses his lips, shrugs and nods because at least it’s Bradley he’s looking for. It’s a good sign that Maverick at least knows who he’s talking about, but that he called him by his first name is a bit unnerving. Maverick still looks just as confused to see him and Jake’s trying to formulate the best way to say he’s just here to see Bradley…

                “I just wanted to see him, sir.”

                Maverick stares at him for an age that just seems to drag before his eyes widen with potential realization and Jake hopes he doesn’t blush.

                “Oh. I didn’t realize you knew Bradley…”

                “Pete, who is it?”

                Holy shit.

                Admiral Kazansky.

                Jake swallows. Whose house is this? Maybe Bradshaw is currently staying with them as a guest? Maybe he’s been given the wrong address as a prank? That would be pretty humiliating. And cruel given that it’s in front of his CO and the COMPACFLT. But he can’t be a guest if he calls San Diego home. He didn’t think Bradley was cruel, had felt that their back-and-forth texting and phone calls were building toward something. But he only threw Maverick out of the Hard Deck ten nights ago and Bradley unintentionally gave him this address nearly two months ago. Maybe he’s moved? His brain can't make sense of anything.

                “Lieutenant.”

                He’s not in uniform, and Admiral Kazansky knows his face enough to know who he is and his rank. He has no idea how to feel about that.

                “Admiral Kazansky sir.”

                “He’s after Bradley,” Maverick provides, and he’s stepping away from the front door, like he’s inviting Jake in, but Jake can’t move.

                “He’s not home yet. His plane is probably still in the air.”

                They know Bradley. They know his schedule, they’re saying he isn’t home. So, this isn’t the wrong address. It explains nothing though.

                “Come in Lieutenant,” Admiral Kazansky states, at the same time Maverick says;

                “Well, you better come in.”

                He was just about to suggest he come back later, however he’s just been invited and sort-of ordered to come in and he nods jerkily, his body stepping forward of it’s own volition.

                “Thank you sir.”

                “You can call me Tom, or Iceman if the first name is a step too far. Just at home. It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard a bit about you.”

                Fuck. What has he heard exactly?

                He nods again, takes a deep breath to settle the shakiness in his limbs, takes off his shoes, doesn’t think about what the Admiral said, implying that he’d be here, in this home, more than right now. Follows after Maverick to the lounge area and he looks around the room and sees photos, lots of photos and he feels his hairline suddenly prickle with sweat. There’s younger Bradley with Maverick, Bradley and Maverick and Admiral Kazansky on what looks like his promotion ceremony to COMPACFLT and he’s starting to see the picture the photos are painting and it’s making him nervous but it’s also answering so many questions.

NEXT PART (no time jump)

[stararch4ngelqueen]

A Helping Hand (18+)

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick x F!reader

Warning: Smut. Fluff and smut. Shower sex, unprotected sex. Light foot injury. Use of pet name Bunny. Word count 2.8K

Summary: Kyle was the first friend you made, and still remained your closest friend to this day. You believed nothing could ever change that, no matter how many times you both found yourselves crossing barriers friends shouldn't cross. Maybe their was always something more hidden underneath the flirty jokes, especially after a single ‘incident' a week prior.

Thanks so much to @mutuallimbenclosure for helping me recover this!! As well as @glitterypirateduck 💕

And also @baufraus just cause 😅

~~~~~~~

"How're you feeling?" Kyle asks once he enters the rec room, seeing you lounging on the old, dark brown corduroy couch, a bland navy colored book in hand.

"Bored, bored and bored." You replied, closing the book after failing to register reading a sentence of the page you've been stuck on. Nothing else was really new for the past week.

Being stuck on base for your "minor" leg injury was the most ridiculous thing you've ever had to deal with during your time in the military.

It wasn't like you couldn't walk, but you were prevented from attending missions for a reasonably fair while.

"Brought you something to cheer you up, love." He extends his hand, offering you small wrapped bundles of pineapple candy.

"What kind is it?'

"Same flavor of sweet I offered you the first week you arrived here. Remember?"

Of course you remembered the first day you arrived, especially recalling the kindness Kyle Garrick offered you to feel comfortable in your new setting. That very day you learned that pineapple was his favorite flavor of candy, to which you made it a priority on a good behalf to always share that flavor with him when you had access.

"Aww, thanks." You smiled, moving aside to give him some space to sit. Taking a candy for yourself, you tossed your book to the table ahead of you, lounging back onto the couch, being mindful of your wounded leg as he stepped by.

You've been tackling that novel for three hours now, not that big of a story." He sat back on the couch, resting his arm back over the top of the cushions behind your shoulders. "Must be very interesting, yeah?"

"It's dreadful," you sigh, popping the candy into your mouth. Despite the captain's orders, as much as it warmed your heart that Price cared, you downright found it annoying just how much he did, preventing you from going out and doing what you actually signed up for.

"Oh believe me, must be tough going from a bloody fine sniper to simple couch bunny." Kyle commented, gazing on ahead after using his teeth to yank the candy from the wrapper into his mouth, chewing down after a few seconds.

Smiling at his comment, you get a little more comfortable, sinking further back against the cushions, aware of his sleeved forearm slowly settling along the back of your neck.

"Couch bunny? What happened to potato, huh?"

"Eh," he shrugged, "You don't look worthy of being called a spud. Too simple."

"Too simple??" You huffed in utter amusement. "You could do a million things with a potato."

"Yeah," Kyle smirked. "But they aren't as cute as you are Just trving to be honest here."

What a flirt he was.

"Calling me a bunny is just ironic, telling how I'm supposedly too injured to run out into the field." You rolled your eyes, chastising again at the fact that a sprained ankle was considered more than enough to hold you back from doing your job.

"Whatever you say, bunny." Gaz snarkly mutters, growing amused at your annoyance.

Instead of irritated by any means, you could only get yourself to smile bigger at his relentless teasing.

Is he in love with me?

You can't help but question this silly, innocent little thought you had. A quiet one, one he didn't need to know of just yet.

Despite the countless times the both of you shared throughout your friendship, via amused, not-so-subtle glances and snarky jokes tilting on the border of friendly and flirtatious, ranging from silly at first towards downright mischievous.

The stares drew a little longer, the accidental touches roamed a second further, the brush of his hand along the back of your shoulder now left your skin tingling.

His new pet name for you did much more than make you blush, but thinking things such as these...

Not to mention what had happened in the armory between you both merely a week ago.

You would've brushed it off as merely all in your imagination, purely out of boredom, but it even occurred when you weren't injured, long before that even, when it was just the both of you in the privacy of your friendship. The word alone being the most polite one you could think of to describe whatever occurred between you both.

Not only that, Kyle played along so willingly, no risky comment bothering him in the slightest, yet always remaining so respectful on your behalf making you wonder if it truly was all in your head.

"Why're you being sweet on me lately, Kyle?" You curiously question, watching a small smile stretch across his face as he peered at you.

"Because you're my fellow comrade, fellow Sargeant, an' my friend. There's no harm in helping you out when you're hurt."

You giggled again, finding your cheeks tingle with a comforting warmth.

"Keep talking like that, my heart's gonna melt."

"As long as it's in my hands, believe you'll be alright."

You meet his gaze, utter surprise stretched across your features. As quickly as so, your brows softened the longer you looked into his eyes, adoring the beauty of their rich, natural brown color, marveling in the lost message he shared to you without saying a word of it.

He is in love with me.

You proceed to sit up, making Kyle's brows raise in surprise, concerned that his comment may have taken things a little too far. "You alright?"

"Yeah," you nod, wincing slightly as you move your leg. "Yeah, just need to get out of this room already."

"Need to be carried somewhere, bunny?" He questioned with a hint of a tease, watching you immediately look back to him, an unsuspecting glimmer in your eyes.

All the plethora of not so innocent teasing, the brush of his hands along your hips as he helped you to your room, your hands lingering too long along his broad chest and biceps, led up to you gently being supported against your bathroom door the second it shut behind you, looking Kyle in the eye as he supported you in his arms, becoming the wall of security you needed.

He admired your body as he helped you wash it, His eyes following the curve of your natural physique; your arms, your plump hips, the curves of your ass. He truly believed he could spend hours in this tiny shower just taking you all in, if it weren't for the battle of arousal the two of you were quickly losing.

You found Kyle still, somehow, managing to be a gentleman, helping you wash along your chest, sudsy calloused fingers halting before the valley of your breasts. He would keep mindful while roaming along your waist, though his eyes weren't so hidden in their longing glare, convincing his hands to settle along your hips, encouraging you to press yourself against the Sergeant.

He hesitated for a moment before hooking his arms under your knees, lifting you effortlessly into his arms.

He carefully balanced you, leaning you back slightly against the tiled wall for leverage.

You let your hand explore his chest, stroking the muscles that decorated his chest. Broad, toned and well sculpted like a greek god, glistening with warm water and residual steam.

You feel his abs brush against your stomach, your hands taking in every curve of muscle along his back, feeling yourself tingle in delight from running your fingertips along his exposed, hot skin.

Your mouths were merely inches away from each other by now, a loving warmth flushing your cheeks, sprinkling heat against his face in utter excitement and nerve wracking love budding like a rose between you both.

"You could have just told me if you wanted to take a shower with me, Kyle. You teased softly, watching him smile and keep his gaze on you alone.

"Trust me, this doesn't even scratch the list of things I wished to do with you, love." Your lips hovered just slightly over his as you spoke. You waited to hear him suck in a sharp breath as you finally kissed him, reveling in adoration from the familiarity of his lips from last time.

His cock, throbbing impatiently against your thigh, was difficult to wrap your hand around, you noted as your fingers dipped lower passed the V-Line of his pelvis.

Brushing against the flushed, weeping tip with your thumb, your fingers curling against the almost velvet-like skin, reveling in the obvious fact that he was hard.

Really hard.

"Christ's sake." He murmured, kissing down the side of your cheek softly as his arms resecured their hold on you. The underside of his cock stroked deliciously through your folds, rubbing directly against your clit once he guided you properly against him, creating an uneven, eager dance between you both, fueling the urge you so desperately wanted to satisfy.

You kept your arms secured tight around him whilst moaning your sighs of delight in his ear, the man refusing to even allow the soles of your quivering feet to touch the tile ground.

"Fuck, You like that, yeah?" His lips stuck to your neck, sucking marbled bruises into your skin. What do you want from me? Want me to take what's mine, love?"

Saying this, he bucked himself hard against your core, restraining a grunt against your skin as you whined.

You cling to the back of his head, tangling your fingers through his coarse, wet hair.

"All you gotta do is ask." He states before waiting for your answer, providing gentle reassurance, proving he wouldn't once judge you for saying otherwise.

"Please, You exhale breathlessly in between hushed breaths of air.

His hands slipped lower, squeezing handfuls of your ass in his palms.

"Please What?" He carefully asks.

"Please Kyle," you look at him with the sweetest of pleading eyes, speaking his name like the richest of honeys dripping from your tongue. "I need you."

You sounded absolutely gorgeous, his heart aching his chest with every beat, still in awe that this was happening.

"Are you sure?" He asked with caution in breaking this daydream as his forehead pressed to yours, water dripping off his chin down to your chest as you cradled his face in your palms.

"Kyle, please. I need you.”

You needed him. He couldn't count how many times he imagined you saying such simple words in his head, genuine with their grand meaning.

At this point, you weren't sure if Kyle was playing dumb on purpose just to get a rise out of you, or if he was relying on that genuine reassurance as the final push.

He gave a soft grin, stealing your lips in yet another sweet, passionate kiss while guiding the tip of his cock against your slit, having you both wince at the contact.

Your walls were soft, hot and slick from pure arousal and utter need, encouraging him to slip inside with such ease.

Severe chills shot down your spine, despite the temperature of the shower remaining the usual lukewarm. Your mouth remained open as you tilt your head back, forcing yourself to relax as he willfully slips inside.

He resecured his hold on you while his cock stretched you open, encouraging your walls to invite him in until he slowly, but almost bottomed out inside, remaining as still as he could, battling against his own patience to fuck you agsinst the tile walls until each piece shattered.

You rolled your hips the best you could in this position with a needy little whine. You drew his earlobe into your mouth, suckiling softly there before whispering for him to not hold back, to fuck you like he always wanted.

To take those fantasies of him claiming you in the unlikeliest of places, to pretend it was the two of you alone in the privacy of a hushed corner in the armory, to imagine that the simple, innocent kiss you both shared there continued further than that, revealing to him how you wished he fucked your sanity out against the very table you had leaned against, recalling how he cradled your chin with such a featherlight, caring touch before squeezing your throat as your nails scratched down his back, raw lust threatening to cloud your heads both then and there.

"Please." Came your soft, guttural plea. The cherry on top of the filthy, sugary sundae.

There was something about your tone of voice, or maybe it was just feeling your warmth throb around him that made him buck his hips into you with a low groan before proceeding at a frantic pace, the fat beads of water clinging to your skin bursting upon impact as skin hit harsh against skin, nails digging through muscle as your cries drew even louder.

You squealed in response, digging your nails into his back as your head settled back against the wall. It didn't take long for both of you to fall into a steamy, eager rhythm, the air between you quickly being filled with soft little pants and moans, greatly mixed with sharp, nasally grunts and muffled moans against your neck. You pressed your face against his shoulder in a vain attempt to quiet yourself, wrapping your legs around his waist to hold him as close as possible, feeling your own release approach quicker than you would've wanted.

You raked your nails down his back as his thrusts began to slow, making up for the pace via bucking into you harder, hearing the hitch in your whines as his cock hit against your 9-spot, quickly adjusting his grip on your hips so you wouldn't slip.

"That feel good, love?" He purrs against your neck, feeling you frantically nod.

"Yeah-fuck. Please, don't stop." You reply through quick speech slurred in between multiple whines, scratching down his back as he thrusted repeatedly inside you.

"God, you feel-" his deep tone cuts off with a sharp, throaty groan, "-So fucking good."

He grunts against your neck, his nails digging into your hips as he bucks deeper into you, encouraging you to break through your self inflicted chains of restraint to moan louder.

"Christ, once you're better, you're gonna be bouncing in my lap like a true little bunny, y hear me?" He grunts low in your ear while guiding your hips along, feeling you clench with his words. "You're gonna take my cock real nice and deep, like a good girl, an' you're not stoppin' till you're well fucked an' full."

Never in your life would you have expected such unique speech from a soft speaking, well-mannered man, but you absolutely adored it. Everyone had a different, hidden side to them, one that he gladly revealed now, one you'd revel in and sink your claws into for as long as possible.

Your fingers find hold of his dog tag chain, drops of water rippling off the steel as you give a light tug. This alluded him into kissing you once more, tasting the remnants of sweet pineapple on his tongue.

"You gonna do that for me?" His hand reaches up to hold your face, guiding you to look him in the eye via caressing your cheek, leaving you to admire his handsome face contorted in pleasure, dripping with residual water.

"You gonna become my little fuck bunny, love? My little doe-eyed sweetheart? Fuck- you gonna take my cum like a good girl, yeah?"

Frantically, you nod to every single word, your end teaching you faster with the mix of his words and change of pace.

To guide you further, his hand went lower once abandoning your cheek, giving your breast a delightful squeeze.

To guide you further, his hand went lower once abandoning your cheek, giving your breast a delightful squeeze before pressing his thumb against your clit, rubbing light circles to feel your hips buck against his.

It didn't matter if this went too fast, you both had each other now. The time for longer sessions would come later, but for now, Kyle had to see you come. He had to see how your brow furrowed as your orgasm rattled your body, to feel your back arch against his palm, to experience the impossible squeeze of your cunt gripping him for dear life, providing him a sensation he'd work tirelessly to feel again and again.

Seeing you now, your furrowed brow releasing as your lips parted to exhale the most beautiful cries he's ever witnessed, made him feel like the luckiest man in the world.

"Oh-Goddamnnit. Shit." Kyle grunted lowly, his voice cracking towards the end of his tone from the feeling of your walls squeezing his throbbing cock, groaning the moment rich spurts of his hot, white cum splattered across the insides of your soft, gushy pussy.

His head settled against yours, groaning richly through his nose as his orgasm washed over his shoulders, clutching you close as you rode through yours, clinging to him for that security you craved.

Not once did he drop you, or show any signs of loosening his grip. Even in the love sick, honey sweet haze that fogged both your minds, he was sane enough to not set you down, not wishing to risk harm to your injury any further.

[hetaologist]

World Meeting (pt. 1)

England: *Enters the meeting room* Right, I want to address a particular Tweet as today’s meeting topic…

*All Nations stop what they’re doing to look at England*

England: Just last week, I read a Tweet from a *specific* individual, talking shit about my food.

*All Nations groan, America snickers to himself*

England: *Narrows eyes at America*, I’ll have you know, my ‘Pie and Mash’ is a good, hardy meal and a British classic!

America: *Stands from his desk with a cheeky grin* Come on dude, don’t tell me you actually look forward to eating dry ass meat pies covered in nuclear green gravy and a side of wall paste~. *He laughs mischievously*

England: WHY YOU CHEEKY BAST-

France: *Clears his throat* Mon amie~, I’m forced to agree with America…unfortunately.”

England: *Snaps his head towards France* WHAT!? Says you, you snail sucker! Your food is overrated and overly complicated to make.

France: *Clutches pearls* Sacré bleu, you heathen! At least my food is desired for and doesn't make people fat, no~?!

*America and England both glare at France*

America: Excuse me bro...?

*Germany stands up and places hands on table*

Germany: Now's not the time to talk about frivolous topics as such. The three of you, sit down und shut up!

America: Hmph, says you. You think it's perfectly okay to eat boiled sausages with boiled potatoes and noodles with no seasonings.

*Germany gasps and gets taken a back*

Germany: DON'T TALK SCHEISSE ABOUT MY FOOD, YOU LARD COVERED ARSCHLOCH!

France: And no, covering everything in mustard or paprika doesn't count~.

*Germany is fuming like a hot baked potato*

England: Hehe~. Now you know how I feel in this situation, you bland Kraut!

America: HAHA! And your beer tastes terrible~.

*Everyone deadass looks at America*

America: What?

Russia: That's some bold words coming from you, Америка~. Germany's beer is pretty good, your beer tastes like man pissed into bottle before closing it.

America: HEY! At least my food is well seasoned and diverse...

China: Yeah right, your shit is just our stuff but with too much sugar and salt.

*All Nations nod their head in agreement*

America: No it isn't! I just like lots of flavor....

*England looks over at America's Stanley cup on his desk*

England: I bet that coffee cup is filled to the BRIM with pure sugar and syrups, you fat ass.

America: Nah dude, it's filled with my *:･ﾟ✧special sauce*:･ﾟ✧.

*America opens up his giant cup filled with sauce*

America: It's a combination of ranch, hot sauce, chicken tender sauce, tangy BBQ sauce, ketchup, mustard, mayo, bacon bits, chipotle, sour cream, sweet n' sour and chili sauce~.

*Everyone looks in horror at America's concoction*

England: What in the ACTUAL FUCK AMERICA ?! Why do you have a huge ass cup of JUST SAUCE?!

America: To quench my thirst, of course!

*Everyone's jaw drops in disgust, some start to gag*

Russia: I should have bombed you when I had chance...

America: Nah, I'm just playing! It's for my chicken tenders.

*America pulls out a box of fast food chicken tenders out of coat pocket*

Germany: WHY DO YOU HAVE THAT WITH YOU?!

America: It's my snackies :3c , this is the sauce I use for everything! Like tacos, burgers, pizza...

*North Italy faint after hearing 'pizza'. South Italy gasps and tends to his brother.*

South Italy: You sick fuck, you always fuck up our beloved pizza and pasta!

America: Wha- no I don't!

South Italy: You are the bastard that put pineapple on pizza and fucked it all-a up!

America: Actually, that's Canada's invention...

South Italy: WHAT?!

*Everyone looks at Canada*

Canada: ...damn it. It's really not that bad, honestly.

South Italy: You're just as bad as your brother!

Canada: Fair...

*America gets on the desk and stands on it*

America: How about we once and for all decide who has the best food in the world and that person can talk all the shit they want about other countries food!

*All Nations agrees to the motion, except for Germany*

Germany: Gott in Himmel... *facepalms*

(to be continued...)

[slocumjoe]

companions and their comfort foods

Cait; didnt care about food until Sole dragged her out of the Combat Zone. Sturges makes a tarberry cobbler that is to die for. It's lightly crisp, it's sweet, it's juicy; it's incredible. Once they get a reliable source of milk, and then cream, that cobbler is an orgasm in a skillet. It ends up being rather good for her mental health, too, as she starts going berry picking for it and makes friends with the farmers. It's also just a naturally soothing activity. It's hard to think about all your trauma when you're waist-deep in water, plucking berries off a bush.

Curie; Does tea count as food? A delicate Carrot Flower tea keeps her going wherever she is. She takes it with sap or, if lucky enough to forage or buy it, Stingwing honey. The tea itself has a slightly tart finish, almost citrusy. Curie takes it hot or iced, depending on the weather. It was one of the first things she tried after getting her synth body. For a meal, she really enjoys Preston's campfire cooking. Wants to find a working grill for him, Nick, and Danse to bond over. The act of cooking is a time-honored group activity, and goodness knows Preston and Danse neglect their emotional connections.

Danse; The standard Brotherhood rations wouldn't quite apply as 'comfort food', especially not after exile. Danse is utilitarian. he doesn't have a personal relationship with any specific food. But...Nick, despite not being able to drink it himself, makes the best coffee. Even with garbage grounds. A hot, strong cup of coffee in the morning is sometimes the only thing convincing Danse that it's worth waking up. Danse is usually the one cooking; he's gotten good at it over the years. Accidentally betters his relationship with everyone just because he makes decent food. Even Hancock is on his best behavior come breakfast.

Deacon; Cornbread and honey. Cornbread is one of the more common foods, at least in places where they can grind cornmeal. It's messy, it's drier than a desert, and it's pretty bland, but it's just...nice. There was a bar back in University Point that made it, and sitting by the ocean, watching the waves, and munching on some hot, buttery, honeyed cornbread is just such a simple pleasure, how could anyone not savor it? Preston makes the best cornbread now. Has intrusive thoughts of the sexual variety over it. No, Deacon, you don't have to do that to get cornbread. Preston isn't into that anyway, it wouldn't even work. Those pre-war 'films' lied to you, buddy.

Gage; He's a basic bitch. It's steak. Steak and mashed potatoes and a salty gravy. But he's picky. If you want a good steak, you'll want a fresh cut from a Brahmin. But good fucking luck finding Brahman steak. You can't kill the damn things just for the meat, because the milk you get is more valuable. One happy Brahmin can get you a lot of milk, which means a lot of cheese, butter, yogurt. It's a long wait until a cow gets old enough to butcher. Then, the owner might keep the meat to themselves. Gage is a raider, yeah, but he's busy. He can't keep tabs on every cow in the area to see what farm to raid for a fucking steak.

Hancock; Break. Fast. Sand. Wich. Mirelurk egg, grilled cram, cheese, tato...goddamn. God. Damn. One time he put mac and cheese on it instead of Brahmin cheese and it almost turned him religious. Hancock doesn't do sweet breakfast, thinks it's not 'mayoral-y'. He takes his sandwiches to, like, a rooftop, to just eat in silence and savor it. Gets really aggravated if interrupted. Also, guess who makes the best breakfast sandwiches? Danse. Fucking Danse. Life's just not fair, man. Also wants to get the guy a grill; maybe it would, like...help him chill. Give him a different personality.

MacCready; Sugar bombs! Sugar bombs! Sugar bombs! It's basically dog kibble for a twenty-year-old. He'll eat them dry, but he'll pay top cap for some milk. For some concerning reason, despite being 210+ years old, they're never stale. He doesn't care. A bowl of cereal and a comic book, or if Sole lends it, a Pipboy and video game, is an awesome way to start the day. It's a little Saturday ritual he tries to have with Duncan. Afterward, they go dig holes looking for X6's treasure. Gets excited whenever he sees X6 with mud on his boots; knows there's a patch of fresh, disturbed dirt out there somewhere.

Nick; Before, OG Nick loved himself a good lasagna. Currently, Nick gets his fix by helping Preston and Danse cook. Makes coffee the way Danse likes it, with a lot of sugar/honey. The others complain it's too strong and sweet, but the next best thing for Danse's mood would be to sneak chems in it. Obviously, Nick isn't going to do that. And he can't sneak it in Danse's own cup after brewing, because he'll notice, and criticize the waste of resources. A happy Danse is a tolerable Danse. Making Danse happy risks making Danse persnickety because Danse thinks joy and pleasure are selfish. Nick would pull his hair out if he had any.

Preston; Grew up in a Creole family that would sooner nuke the world a second time than give up their family recipes. The current Minutemen make a lot of dishes they've learned from Preston. He's pretty smug about it. His dad's cooking is near and dear to his heart, but his comfort food would be fruit salad. Mutfruit, melon, tarberry, and some canned fruit Sturges nabbed at a store before the raiders cornered them in Concord. It was the first meal he'd had in a while, and it meant they were finally safe. Now it triggers that relief whenever he has it. Makes it when he's anxious. If you notice cans piling up in Preston's trash, please check on him.

Piper; Would have said Takahashi's noodles, but after some time away from them, eating a wider variety of food, she likes them less. They're still good, but they used to be "I am a tired 20 year old who can't cook" good. Now they're just "I remember eating this a lot" good. Her actual comfort food would be s'mores. Piper's mom died when Nat was really little. Afterward, her dad paid for marshmallows, chocolate, and graham crackers whenever he could, and they'd sit around a campfire and enjoy while her dad told stories. Piper hasn't continued the tradition; it hurts too much, and Nat doesn't remember their parents anyway.

X6-88; didn't understand the concept of comfort food until traveling with these idiots. Still thought himself above it. But then...Piper handed him an innocuous, tiny package. "Gumdrops," she called them. Sour, faintly sweet. Coursers were fed a flavorless nutrient block. She noticed his interest. Snuck him similar things. "If you put this in cola, it explodes!" He tested it. It very much exploded, but the hard candy was still good. Then Deacon got in on the contraband, gave him a box of Dandy-Boy apples. Pre-war snack food was prohibited for its concerning nutritional value. The illegality made it all the more alluring. One thing lead to another, and now X6 has locked safes filled with candy, buried in the woods behind Sanctuary. The local children seek his treasure.