#prize in your cereal

[therobotmonster]

Let's talk about Toys in Cereal

This is a part of several posts of mine that have gotten big, but I figure it's best to address the phenomenon itself in a new post.

If you want to just browse a ton of cool old cereal toys once we're done, go to: www.cratercritters.com. It's a neat site.

Cereal toys are a long-standing American tradition. Some tag-questions asked if they went away because of greed or because of regulations, and that's complicated.

There are food regulations that complicate things. You may have heard that Kinder Eggs are not legal in the US.

This is usually framed as a "fear the stupid American Kids will eat the toy" kind of thing. This is not the case.

The actual regulation that blocks the Kinder Egg is about food safety from bacterial and undisclosed allergen contamination. Inserting a baggie with a toy into that exposes everything in the cereal bag to the outside of the toy package, and that's a no-no in the US market. The rare thing we're more strict about than the EU.

But that doesn't affect cereal toys, because they can get around it by having it in a separate package outside the food bag, between the inner back and the cardboard box. Much easier on the parents to find when you open the box, too.

Kinder has, themselves, addressed the US Kinder Egg problem the same way, with the Kinder Joy.

Splitting the package. into two sections that are individually sealed.

But a big blow to the practice was the end of the Australian R&L Toy Company.

R&L made tons of simple pack-in Premium toys from the 60s through the 80s. They were the primary supplier to Kelloggs, and made everything from simple one-piece figurines to little build-yourself-action-toys.

For instance, these "Wacky Walkers" worked by tying a string to the figure and the weight, then dropping the weight off a table. The figures would hobble forward on their feet, pulled by the weight. Neat-o!

Then there's stuff like these Toolybirds. I'd sell any one of you to the goblin king for a set of these, because I sure can't afford them at $25 apiece or more. I'll probably just make some dinosaur-knockoff version or somesuch to 3d print, eventually.

R&L went out of business in the 80s and its molds were sold to a toy manufacturing company in Mexico that produced their stuff as bag toys for awhile, before everything just faded away.

Meanwhile, the cereal market was forced to contract elsewhere without a devoted company doing essentially just that.

Liscenses came to the rescue. Fun fact, if you wanted toys from most of the Disney Afternoon, your only hope was Kellogg's.

As time went on, you started even getting software in cereal.

Chex gave out a free, PG-version of DOOM for free. Not a couple of demo levels, a whole game, run on the doom engine, with aliens you zap with a spoon.

But as time went on, companies got less and less into the idea of enticing with freebies, and parents started objecting to the marketing of sugar cereals with toy surprises, because given the opportunity, most parents will blame the company for making something the kid wants for their unwillingness to say "No."

The eternal conflict:

Cool thing the kid would enjoy that you might have to put your foot down over because enforcing moderation is a parent's job, verses unobjectionable conformist mush designed to increase your kids' "goodness levels."

I think the banning of cartoon mascots for snacks in certain countries is also ridiculous.

Thing is, any company could bring them back at any time.

The Monster cereals did figurines of their mascots in cosplay in 2021. Of course, they did it as a limited edition bullshit thing where the actual monster cereal mascots were chase figures, but they made them, they could do them at any time if they wanted to.

They could bring the magic back. Nothing is stopping them.

'cept there's no room for joy on the spreadsheet.

Gotta hit you with a little ennui. It's that ambergris stink that makes the perfume truly sweet.

[works-of-fanfiction]

Toothbrush || Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: It’s still early days for Lando and the reader, but he’s ready to start seeing more of her.

Song: Toothbrush by DNCE.

Warnings: None, just a wholesome read.

Word Count: 2.3k

a/n: every time I listen to this song, I imagine little fanfic scenarios in my head, so I finally wrote one! I’m a George girl at heart, but I think I’m in my Lando era rn. short but sweet - hope you like it!

With Lando’s arm strewn across your chest and his soft snores in your ear, you didn’t dare to move. Streams of sunlight bled into the room through the gap in the curtains, illuminating his tanned shoulders that poked out of the covers. Pins and needles prickled at your feet as you fought desperately not to leave the bed. He looked so comfortable and he deserved the extra rest after all the busy weekdays preparing for the new season.

You turned your head to catch a full glimpse of his face, his mouth hanging slightly open and eyelids twitching involuntarily. You often wondered what he dreamt about, as you did with anyone who fell asleep in your company. Dreams fascinated you; the weirder the better. Your workdays often started with your colleagues all sharing their wild and wonderful dreams from the night before, with the odd nightmare sprinkled in. If only you had a pound for every time your manager dreamt of losing his teeth…

Your bladder deceived you, the pressure growing the more you tried to ignore it. Sighing, you pushed the covers off your body, careful not to disturb the half that covered the sleeping driver beside you. You shuffled to the right, fingertips gently lowering Lando’s hand onto the pillow, hoping he didn’t stir. The fresh morning air whipped around your bare frame, and you resorted to hugging yourself as you tiptoed into the ensuite.

You moved with caution, tearing the toilet paper slowly and studying the squares as they ripped apart bit by bit. As much as you hated not flushing, you didn’t want to startle the poor guy, so you opted for closing the lid. That too was done carefully, not letting the wooden pieces make a single sound as they touched. You washed your hands quickly, scrubbing them dry on a towel, a comically bright orange towel with the McLaren logo plastered all over it. You’d laughed at it the first time you stayed over, Lando cursing himself for not hiding it before you arrived. You’d wondered where else random pieces of McLaren merchandise were going to pop up. Tea towels? Bed sheets? Branded cereal, perhaps?

On your way back to the bed, you scooped up Lando’s t-shirt from the night before, slipping it on and appreciating the fabric against your skin. It didn’t make a huge difference, but at least it covered the goosebumps scattered across your cold chest. Catching your reflection in the mirror, you combed your fingers through your hair, pushing loose strands out of your eyes. Hearing a rustling in the covers, you turned to see Lando stretching his arms above his head, his eyes still squeezed shut to avoid the morning light.

“Mm… Come back to bed.” He mumbled, propping his hands behind his head like he was laid on a sun lounger. You sat on the bed beside him, resting on your right hip and tucking your legs in to lift your feet off the ground. Feeling the mattress dip, a lazy smile spread across his face as he prized his eyes open halfway. “There you are.” You laid a hand on his chest, smiling down at him before his eyes fluttered closed once again. “Beautiful.”

You exhaled, amused by his compliment. “You can’t even see me.”

“I don’t need to.”

He could be cheesy sometimes, but part of you loved it. You’d always enjoyed making fun of your friends in their honeymoon phases, mimicking their partners and overusing their new nicknames. You’d waited a long time for it to be your turn, so you planned on soaking up every pet name, pick-up line, and spooning session until they grew tired of hearing about it. God knows you’d heard more than your fair share of romantic tales.

All you wanted to do was lie back down beside him and burrow your head beneath his arm, but the grease in your hair and mascara stuck in your tear ducts begged you to go home and shower.

Being in the early stages meant that overstaying your welcome was still a possibility. You had yet to lie in past 10am with Lando, and were always dressed and out of the door before he’d even shed the covers. You’d made a promise to yourself at the start that you wouldn’t let yourself get too attached or seem clingy. Whirlwind relationships always sounded good until they weren’t, and you’d experienced them one too many times to allow it to happen again. Besides, Lando never seemed to argue when you slipped out of bed and left before breakfast. To him, it seemed like you just enjoyed your own space. For the past eight Sundays, you’d detangled yourself from his grasp, thrown on your clothes from the night before and left him with a simple kiss on the cheek, all before he’d even managed to open his eyes properly. Most of those mornings he’d rolled over to your side of the bed, inhaling the traces of your perfume and replaying the events of the evening over and over in his head. One day he’d tell you to stay; he’d hide your keys if it meant he could spend a few more hours in bed with you... What did you like for breakfast? If he ordered pancakes, would you stay and split a plate with him? Was it brown or tomato sauce you had with your bacon?

Lando felt you fidgeting on the bed and rolled over to grab your arm. You looked down in surprise, turning your wrist to take his hand in yours. “What’s wrong?” You asked, his fingers soft and featherlike against your palm, following the lines from left to right.

“What time is it?”

“Um…” You leaned over, checking your phone on the bedside table. “It’s almost 9.30.”

He groaned, slumping forward to rest his head against your arm. You laughed, moving so his head fell into your lap and your hand settled in the top of his hair. Catching a curl around your finger, you studied the tones in his hair and how they each caught the sunlight. Sitting there quiet and content with him made you a little sad, as you didn’t want to leave. Part of you longed for Sundays spent together, movies on the sofa with last night’s leftovers heating up in the microwave. You knew it was a fool’s dream considering he ended up in a new country every weekend. You cursed yourself for following your silly little rule and not taking advantage of the time you did have. In less than a month, he’d be calling you from hotels in the middle of who knows where with bad reception and voices urging him to hurry up and get back to work.

Sighing, you tapped Lando’s shoulder, whispering for him to sit up. “I should get going.” You said hesitantly, forcing yourself to stand.

“Stay. Just a little longer.” He gazed at you with puppy dog eyes, his hair unruly on his forehead and cheeks lined with crease marks from his pillows.

“Look at me, Lando.” You scoffed, waving your hands in front of your face. “I am in serious need of a shower.”

“I have a shower.” He stated obviously, his eyes finally widening to their normal state as he propped himself up against the headboard. “Towels are in the cupboard on the third shelf.”

“I… Lando – “

“Y/N.” He tilted his head, looking at you with raised brows. “You’re allowed to stay and take a shower.”

His words were laced with so much more than what he was saying. He wanted you in his shower, stepping out to wrap yourself in one of his towels with your damp hair leaving droplets on the countertop. He wanted your footprints on the bathmat – hell, he’d even put up with your hair clogging the drains if it meant there were traces of you in his home. He wanted more than just the ghost of you at his kitchen counter or out on the patio.

He kept his eyes on you, watching as you stood up and approached the cupboard, choosing a fluffy blue towel from the shelf. He rolled out of the bed, following you to the bathroom and flicking the extractor fan on above your heads. “Alright. You’ve got the rainfall shower which you turn on by twisting this towards you.” He instructed, trying to hide the smile that was creeping its way onto his face. It was crazy how long he’d waited to show you something so simple.

He turned the rainfall shower on, letting the water heat up for you. “The detachable showerhead is the same, just turn it in the other direction towards the wall.”

He stepped to the side, letting you slip past him. You stood shyly, his shirt still hanging off your body. “Well, I’m not going to shower with you watching!” You laughed, folding your arms and waiting for him to leave.

“Why? It’s nothing I haven’t already seen.” He smirked, mirroring your stance. Your cheeks flushed red at his words, visions of last night swimming around your mind. You needed him to leave the bathroom before you dragged him under the water with you.

He turned to leave, mindlessly adjusting the hand towels on the rack. “I’ll leave some clothes on the bed for you. There’s a spare toothbrush in the cabinet too.”

“Are you saying I have smelly breath?” You gasped, watching as he turned back to face you with the same cheeky grin on his face.

“Oh yes. That is exactly what I’m saying.”

Pulling the shirt over your head, you screwed it into a ball and threw it at him, hitting him square in the face and blocking his view. You turned to face the shower, leaving him with a foggy view of your backside through the textured glass. “Not fair!” He shouted over the running water as you dunked your messy hair beneath the stream.

“Get out, you pervert!”

He left the bathroom laughing to himself, closing the door behind him. He rushed to tidy the room a little, making sure to leave the clothes he promised on the bed. He took the liberty of putting your clothes in the wash with his, hoping you’d be okay with it.

When you surfaced from the bathroom with the towel tucked around your body and a beaming smile on your face, he swore he could feel his heart thumping against his ribcage. “Better?” He asked, sliding the pile of clothes your way.

“Much. Thank you.” You took the clothes, Lando turning away to give you some privacy whilst you changed. “Where should I put the towel?” You asked, giving him the all-clear to look at you.

“Just throw it in the hamper. I’ll sort it later.”

“Oh, I didn’t know where to put the toothbrush so it’s just in the pot beside yours.”

He smiled, looking at you but not saying a word. “What?” You asked, glancing down at yourself then back to him. “What’s wrong?”

Patting the space next to him on the bed, you sat down, pulling your wet hair over one shoulder. “I was thinking…” He started, reaching to grab your hand. Running his fingers over your knuckles, he studied the curiosity on your face as he rehearsed the words in his head. “Why don’t you leave the toothbrush in the pot?”

You didn’t catch on at first, but his words soon made sense as he shuffled closer to you, his thigh pressed against yours. Your face ached from smiling, Lando’s expression perfectly reflecting yours. “It’s convenient, you know?” He played it cool, earning him a playful slap on the chest.

“Yeah, sure! Convenience.” You mocked, leaning into him as he wrapped an arm around you, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

“By the way…” He spoke into your ear, his lips brushing against the lobe, tickling you. “I put your clothes in the wash, so you won’t be leaving anytime soon.” He drew back to look at you, surprised to see you still smiling.

“Good job I wasn’t planning on it anyway.” Throwing a leg over his, you straddled his lap and rested your arms around his neck.  He leaned forward, catching your lips with his and kissing you gently. Wet droplets from your hair fell onto his bare shoulder, making him shiver and laugh into the kiss. Pulling away, you swiped the water away with your hand, sliding off his lap and linking your fingers with his. He stood, grabbing the nearest hoodie hanging on the bed post and throwing it over his shoulder as he led you out of the bedroom and towards the stairs.

“So… breakfast?” His voice was muffled as he squeezed the hoodie over his head, stepping cautiously so he didn’t tumble down the stairs.

“Sounds good. What are you in the mood for?”

“I’m easy. I’ll have anything.” He opened the fridge and grabbed a carton of orange juice, turning to find you resting your elbows on the kitchen island. Something about you in his house, in his clothes, made his stomach do somersaults. It quickly became his favourite sight.

Pouring two glasses of juice, he slid one over to you, taking a seat on one of the stools. “How did you sleep by the way?” He asked, sipping his drink and snuggling up to you to rest his chin on your shoulder.

“Pretty good. You?”

“The same… But I did have this really weird dream.”

Your ears perked up at his words and you turned to look at him eagerly. “Tell me all about it.”

[badjokesbyjeff]

An Australian Army Recruit sends home a letter...

Dear Ma & Pa,

I am well. Hope youse are too. Tell me big brothers Doug and Phil that the Army is better than workin’ on the farm - tell them to get in quick smart before the jobs are all gone! I wuz a bit slow in settling down at first, because ya don’t hafta get outta bed until 6 am. But I like sleeping in now, cuz all ya gotta do before brekky is make ya bed and shine ya boots and clean ya uniform. No cows to milk, no calves to feed, no feed to stack - nothin’!! Ya haz gotta shower though, but its not so bad, coz there’s lotsa hot water and even a light to see what ya doing!

At brekky ya get cereal, fruit and eggs but there’s no kangaroo steaks or possum stew like wot Mum makes. You don’t get fed again until noon and by that time all the city boys are dead because we’ve been on a ’route march’ - geez its only just like walking to the windmill in the back paddock!!

This one will kill me brothers Doug and Phil with laughter. I keep getting medals for shootin’ - dunno why. The bullseye is as big as a possum’s bum and it don’t move and it’s not firing back at ya like the Johnsons did when our big scrubber bull got into their prize cows before the Ekka last year! All ya gotta do is make yourself comfortable and hit the target! You don’t even load your own cartridges, they comes in lil' boxes, and ya don’t have to steady yourself against the rollbar of the roo shooting truck when you reload!

Sometimes ya gotta wrestle with the city boys and I gotta be real careful coz they break easy - it’s not like fighting with Doug and Phil and Jack and Boori and Steve and Muzza all at once like we do at home after the muster.

Turns out I’m not a bad boxer either and it looks like I’m the best the platoon’s got, and I’ve only been beaten by this one bloke from the Engineers - he’s 6 foot 5 and 15 stone and three pick handles across the shoulders and as ya know I’m only 5 foot 7 and eight stone wringin’ wet, but I fought him till the other blokes carried me off to the boozer.

I can’t complain about the Army - tell the boys to get in quick before word gets around how good it is.

Your loving daughter,

Patricia

[pupkashi]

gojo satoru masterlist !

* fluff ^ angst

— all for my angel boy <3

main masterlist

* boyfriend!gojo hcs

* rainy evenings

in which gojo gets himself caught in the rain

* christmas cuddles

gojo finds his place in the universe

* arcades

arcades are scams, he knows, but dammit gojo will win you that prize

* flowers

gojo is a self-certified flower enthusiast

* periods

gojo is an angel on earth when you get your period

* sugar rush ride

gojo loves sugar, and you’re too sweet to resist

* priorities

gojo has his priorities straight: you’ll always be the most important

* rough day

gojo will always cheer you up after a rough day

* mornings

satoru loves mornings with you

* egg hunting

gojo’s never been easter egg hunting, you decide it’s time for the famous bunny to pay him a visit

* sunday love

sundays with gojo are slow and sweet

* grocery shopping headcanons

*^ jealousy, jealousy

the worst part of dating gojo? how often he gets hit on

* movie night

satoru gojo has developed a new weakness: romcoms

* migraine

gojo helps ease the pain of your migraine

* picnics

in which mother nature decides picnics are no good without a little rain

* after like

you and satoru say the L word

* my you

gojo learns he loves stargazing

* titles

in which gojo realizes you truly see him

* going to an observatory

* costume parties

* a scenic drive with him

* time

gojo will always make sure you’re taken care of

*^ hugs

“can i hug you? you look like you could do with it”

* sweet nothing

gojo always finds himself running home to you

* clean linen

gojo’s second favorite smell is your laundry detergent

* untitled

the last person you expect to patch you up is gojo satoru, so why are you knocking on his door?

* azul

when you think of love, you think of the color blue

* oranges

gojo knows how to peel oranges

* pretty boy

gojo has to let you know how much you mean to him

* sick

gojo’s favorite hobby is being your personal nurse

* scrapbooks

satoru isn’t a sentimental person, until he is

*^ nightmares

satoru has nightmares, but also long as you’re by his side he knows he’ll be okay

* easy

loving is easy when it’s gojo satoru

*^ scars

gojo learns to love the scars on his body

*^ arguments

arguments are never nice, but at least they help you grow

* birthmarks

even in his past lives, satoru was always loved

* pizza time!

or the one time satoru tries to make pizza from scratch and is effectively banned from ever trying again

* mistletoe-go

satoru comes up with a new Christmas tradition

* new year, new superstition

whoever said wearing red on new years brought love was onto something

* kisses

satoru always makes sure your lips are well kissed

* f1 racer!satoru hc’s

* to love is to linger

* cereal, soup and other deep questions

* “what do you think you’d be doing if we never met?”

* “you’re bleeding!” “I was trying to cut the tomatoes!”

* “i have a meeting in an hour! get out of the bathroom!”

* “you’re my everything”

* "what do you mean you've never gone trick-or-treating?!"

* going to the fair hcs

* collegebf!satoru

* study buddy!satoru

* birthday special <3

* satoru loves yapping [to you]

* drabble #1

* drabble #2

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[hwangism143]

𓆩♡𓆪 nicknames. 𓆩♡𓆪

hyung line.

han jisung.

"good morning my pookie wookie snuffle bear."

you look at jisung in confusion, wondering what the hell just came out of jisung's mouth. he was hunched over his cereal when he said, "oh. i couldn't think of one nickname, so i decided to give you them all!"

soon, what seemed like an irritation, became another thing for you to look forward to during your day. you woke up every morning wondering what crazy nickname jisung was going to give you the next day.

the prize however, went to 'better than felix's brownies and any lemon meringue pie.' you really regretted introducing jisung to baking reality tv.

"you do-" jisung hesitated, "you do like these nicknames, right? like they don't annoy you?"

"no," you giggle, "they don't."

placing your forehead on jisung's, you ease his tensions by saying, "i like them. but not as much as i like you."

lee felix.

felix paced around in agitation. "okay, now i feel bad," you whined, "i didn't even put this much thought into a nickname for you. everyone called you sunshine, so i did too!"

"aw, don't feel bad," felix called out in his restless stupor.

you walk over to him and wrap your arms around his waist, resting your chin on his shoulder. initially, he is tense until he relaxes against you and lets out a sigh.

"hey," you say softly, "it's ok."

"no," replies felix, "it's not. it's like a relationship rite of passage."

you roll your eyes at him. "felix. you help me grow and bring out the best in me. that's proof enough of you love. you don't need a nickname to show it as well."

but felix is lost in thought. he mutters something under his breath and he turns to face you, visibly lighting up.

"that's it! i'm sunshine and i help you grow, so that means that you're my..."

you initiate a little drumroll with your feet.

"sunflower!" he finishes triumphantly.

kim seungmin.

"we need to talk."

your heart sunk into your stomach the moment he voiced those four words. nothing ever good came from a conversation succeeding that ill-fated sentence.

"what is it," you ask, hoping he doesn't notice the nervousness in your voice.

"we have to talk about the terms and conditions of our relationship."

"we had a contract?" you ask in confusion.

seungmin looks at you with a glint of mischief in his eyes, "an unspoken one, yes. as per what's prescribed, i need to have a nickname for you. i do not, however, have a nickname for you."

relief washes over you, soon replaced by a little bit of exasperation. who on earth would start a conversation so simple with a sentence so daunting? kim seungmin, that's who.

ah, you were in love.

"well," you ask promptly, "what's my nickname?"

"i have thought a lot and," seungmin smirked, "you don't deserve one."

"hey," you laugh, "that's not fair!"

"but you love me either way, sweetheart."

yang jeongin.

"i have made an extremely important decision," jeongin announced promptly. he walked over to you and sat down, a wide smile adorning his face.

"innie, you said that yesterday when you finally decided between glazed or barbecued chicken after pondering over it for twenty minutes," you reply endearingly. jeongin had a bit of a... indecisiveness problem.

"but, honey, really," a smirk started to play on his lips.

"honey? that's new," you ask in confusion. the way he said it with a low tone made warmth (and ungodly thoughts) seep into your body.

"exactly, yeobo," he said, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest.

"so. what was the decision," you're beginning to get slightly impatient, your curiosity getting the best of you.

"from now onwards," he haughtily proclaims, "you are no longer to be referred to as y/n. you are now christened as honey or yeobo, depending on my mood."

you laugh into his chest, mocking his extremely poor british accent and blushing at his newfound names for you.

[wilwheaton]

Who is the most punchable cereal mascot, in your opinion?

Well, after spending more time than I ever thought I would considering cereal mascots and their relative punchability, I have to honestly tell you I don't think I dislike any of them.

Like, all they wanted us kids to do was eat a regular (excuse me, "balanced") breakfast with an added bowl of cereal, and have fun while we were doing it. Some of them wanted to give us prizes, even!

And that poor Trix rabbit! He's obviously got a real addition problem, is constantly crying out for help, and every kid he encounters is like "Lol get the fuck outta here while I eat the thing you're addicted to as part of this balanced breakfast, you silly rabbit."

Now I wonder what the support group looks like for Cap'n Crunch, the Qwisp alien, Count Chocula, the bee from Honey Nut Cheerios, and Toucan Sam. Does anyone else really understand them and their lives? They're all alone, even when they are together. And it never ends.

How could you want to punch any of them? You monster!

[braxlrose]

silly and weird tom hcs

a/n: the last ones got deleted for some reason so I'm making a new one!

• this mf steals your food all the time. hes always munchin on something so if you have something that looks good, he's taking it. especially if it's watermelon. he loves watermelon 🍉

• he doesn't tell anybody, but he gets his nails done. he gets pedicures and manicures and loves it so much. you found out one day when he kept going off and not telling anybody where he was going. so you followed him and saw his finger and feet soaking in water 💀

• when you walked in you were trying so hard to hold in a laugh and he was so fucking embarrassed when he saw you. you thought it was extremely ironic because he always called mani-pedis "girly"

• now you two go all the time, and you're way better at making excuses than he was.

• he got high on edibles and thought his feet weren't attached to his body anymore so he started screaming 💀

• over indulges on gushers when he's high

• you guys know those Chinese finger traps? Idk if that's what they're called but you put two fingers in them and they're like really hard to get out of. he LOVES them for some reason, he thinks they're so much fun

• he loves the snow so much, and especially loves snowball fights. it's so much fun, and he also gets to wear extra layers of clothing because of the cold

• during the winter, he gets a bunch of different kinds of hot chocolates and when anybody asks what he's drinking he swears by it that it's black coffee 💀

• he loves watching futurama and says that he strives to be bender 💀 (have yall seen the new episode? I actually really liked it, ik a lot of people said they didn't but I did.)

• gets on his knees while begging (not sexually 🤨) and will even fake cry. he's a master manipulator 💀

• when you guys go to the beach he's always asking you to come play in the water with him

• for any reason if you guys happen to be at a hospital, he goes and looks at all the little newborn babies. they're so cute and he gets all smiley just looking at them.

• he loves romance movies. mf will deny it till the day he dies when anybody asks but you've seen his collection of vhs tapes and dvds. plus bill even admitted tom cried during The Notebook.

• he tries to balance random objects on his head while walking to see it he can do it. he'll add on a object every time he does it.

• he's weirdly amazing at solving Rubix cubes?

• he loves making balloons animals and he always makes the sword ones. he will literallt sword fight with anybody.

• he eats bowls and bowls of cereal so he can get to the prize at the bottom of the box. (I full-heartedly believe he's a little kid at heart)

• he tries to make home-made pizza but ends up burning it 90% of the time.

• he's extremely ticklish on his armpits, stomach and feet and will literally die laughing if you tickle him

• he also loves kids cartoon movies like fox and the hound, Anastasia, Mulan, James and the Giant Peach, etc.

• he loves slap bracelets and has an entire collection of them.

• it wouldn't be the first time you've caught him dancing and singing to Britney spears.

• tom loves everything bathes. on camera he says he prefers showers but in reality he likes bathes better. With candles, dimmed lights, bath salts, face masks, etc.

• do you guys know that episode of Friends where Monica convinces Chandler to take a bath and he ends up loving it and shit? he's just like that. if you don't know what I'm talking about here's some clips.

clip 1

clip 2

• he tried on one of your thongs one time because you dared him to wear it the whole day.

• you also dared him to get his legs waxed and he ended up doing it and he was crying the whole time

• he loves those little stories where you add in words to them. I can't remember what they're called but it asked you for like an adjective, plural noun, verb ending in ing, etc. etc. (I hope yall know what I'm talking about, I think it starts like a m or something someone tell me please 😭)

taglist: @hearts4kaulitz @burntb4bydoll @spelaelamela @bored0writer @fishinaband @billsleftnutt @tokiiohot @bluepoptartwithsprinkles @saumspam @5hyslv7 @killed-kiss @memog1rl @80s-tingz @billybabeskaulitz @victryzvv9 @banshailey

[everlastlady]

Boyfriend Vox HCS

✥- Author's Note: I can't wait for Hazbin Hotel to come out, now Vox isn't my favorite character but he isn't a character that I hate. He's a character that I find interesting, and when the show comes out maybe my interest will spike and I'll enjoy him more. I'm already enjoying his voice, design, and especially his singing voice, tell me what you guys think about Vox's voice and design, what do you hope to see in the show when it comes to Vox besides his rivalry with the radio demon Alastor. Remember to eat a meal or a snack, drink some water, get some fresh air, take your medicine, and remember that you are loved. If you loved this story remember to comment, click or tap that heart button, reblog with tags, and blaze if you can. Always remember to support your local writers. ♡♡♡

✤- Story Contains: CEO female reader, romance, Vox being a bit of an ass, strong language, reader is a falling angel, and overall just a fun silly fan fiction.

✤- Vox has always been asshole towards (Name) but (Name) was always an ass back to Vox too. The two trading insults and even shoving each other. This was this love language because the two were dating. The powerful Overlord was dating the falling angel ceo of Hell. Vox was fascinated that (Name) was a falling angel, and built a company on helping falling angel especially since they made a lot of money. But Vox didn't love them for the money, he loved them for their passion, fiery attitude, and being able to stand for themselves. Vox was glad that (Name) was his girlfriend.

✥- The two helped each other out. Vox made sure that (Name) had all the power and influence she needed for her company. And made sure that Vox any of his associates were protected from the angels. She also uses Vox's products at her company and having models use them in photoshoot. " Think you can have one of your models eat my cereal in the video babe? " Vox asked. " Yeah, sure. " (Name) smiled giving a nod. " In a sexy way please. " Vox walked away. It took (Name) a while to progress what her wide screen boyfriend just said. " .... In a sexy way? "

✥- Whenever (Name) and Vox argue in public or call each other names. Even shoving each other and fighting. People don't know that it's over the most stupidest things. Vox could say a cloud looks like a turtle but (Name) would say it looks more like a mouse then they'll fight even in meetings. If you were there Velvet would just say. " Don't worry this is how they express their love. "

✥- Vox loves to spoil (Name), he loves getting her a ton of gifts and outfits. Only the best for his woman, he especially will rent out her favorite restaurant so that they can have it all to themselves and order whatever they want off the menu. Vox once rented out Loo Loo World for their anniversary and they had a lot of fun. But (Name) laughed her ass off because Vox was screaming like a little girl because of a roller coaster ride and he could hit the targets at one of the games after bragging about how he'll win her a prize but in the end, it was (Name) that one him a large plush toy of a wolf bear that he keeps in his bedroom.

✥- (Name) also spoils Vox. She treats him to fancy dinners, gets him the most cleanest and comfortable suits. Sends him a shit ton of birthdays money. (Name) also spoils him in affection with kisses and pet names. Sometimes in public which Vox doesn't mind. He wants people to know that (Name) is his girlfriend anyone who even tries to flirt with her has to deal with Vox.

✥- Vox will brew up a hot boiling pot of rant when he talking about Alastor which (Name) finds annoying because she didn't care about Alastor and wasn't afraid of him. So whenever Vox got worked up to the point his ranting was annoying (Name) she would say. " He's starting to sound more like a crush that you want to kiss instead of a rival, maybe he should be your boyfriend. " (Name) said smirking. Vox would buffer a bit before making a face of disgust. " I don't love that mediocre show host, don't ever think or suggesting that. " Vox said. He would walk off, finally (Name) could read in peace.

[b-erwr]

♡⃞ ✢ ∿ 🌙 cereal : the event

↷ ⋎ ✧ introduction

・HII EVERYBODY! this is my very first event in honor of 50+ followers!!! this event will be all about cereal if its not obvious enough for my hyeinners !!!! i luv u all thank you so much for this milestone btw :3

↷ ⋎ ✧ how to enter

・reblog this post & tag 2 of ur fav blogs or moots. proceed with commenting "joining." then, dm me a number from 1-5 for the cereal brand you’ll make a moodboard of. also dm me a number from 1-9 for your idol, before u do that state if ur an only bg/gg blog!

↷ ⋎ ✧ plus points

・you can get extra points IF your moodboard contains icon/s made by you, locs made by you, gif/s made by you, etc etc. put in the tags if you made something by yourself. e.g: #gif by me

↷ ⋎ ✧ prizes

・1st: 90 reblogs on poc, follow from me, blog s/o, 8 custom mbs

・2nd: 60 reblogs on poc, follow from me, blog s/o, 5 custom mbs

・3rd: 30 reblogs on poc, follow from me, 3 custom mbs

↷ ⋎ ✧ fav blogs (ignore)

・ @egorls @e-unchaes @yeritos @lovveons @iluvrei @y-ujin @y-urios @y2qi @y-vna @kangrins @mazeui @raeceah @seulio @umiena @shiolu @eliatopia @fuckici @gun-wook @trivijoy @baesol @p-oisn @i-kyujin @ahinsite @jenfaery @kiiorraa @nwtzy @sulvy @snflwwr + WAYYYY too much more

[jintaka-hane]

RAISINS (Beckman x f!Reader)

Img src

Masterlist

Notes: This is a stupid idea - gift to my lovely @fanaticsnail, to give her some comfort and encouragement regarding the last glimpse into her life. Beckman isn't very good in the kitchen, but he does is best 💕 🚬 Pairing: Benn Beckman x brat f!reader Word count: 800 Summary: When you're hungry, you're a grump. And it's even worse when they bring you things you don't like. Taglist: @i-am-vita @gingernut1314

Ever since Lucky Roux had dislocated his shoulder, nobody cooked aboard the Red Force, and the red-haired pirates made do with whatever they could scrounge up from the galley to survive.

You found yourself in there, hungry and grumpy, scouring for a snack. Provisions were running low, and a group led by the ship's second-in-command had just returned from resupplying ashore. As you rummaged through the pantry for something to munch on, the chatter of returning voices outside announced their arrival back on board.

Benn Beckman strode into the galley, a cigarette clamped between his lips as usual. Upon seeing you, he greeted you with a familiar warm smile just as he always did.

"Feelin’ a bit hungry, are we?" His muscular scarred arms flexed as he lifted the weighty shopping bags onto the table. Each one seemed to weigh a ton, but it didn't appear to trouble him.

"Yeah, and there's nothing here…"

“Don't worry, darlin', I've bought yer favorite cereal for breakfast."

Eagerly, you pounced on the shopping bags, seeking the prized cereal box. Your hands landed on a square cardboard container, which you swiftly pulled out. As you gazed at it, disappointment clouded your face... Cereal with raisins, the product name read.

You loathed raisins with every fiber of your being.

With a frustrated expression, you glanced at Beckman, unable to hide your annoyance.

"Seriously?! With raisins?!”

He snatched the box from your grasp and examined it closely.

"Guess I mistook these brown things for chocolate,” he said shrugging his shoulders and handing you the box again.

“I hate raisins, Beck!!" you shouted, throwing the cereal container onto the table.

“Come on, doll, I’m sure it doesn’t taste that bad," he was calm, his cigarette still in his lips and a wisp of smoke curling from it.

You huffed in response, aware that your reaction wasn't the greatest. But frankly, you detested raisins and the idea of having to eat that crap for the rest of the week infuriated you beyond measure. You couldn't hide it.

As he observed your spoiled reaction, his own irritation and frustration threatened to mirror yours.

“Easy now, don’t be like that,” he tried to stay composed, “next time I’ll buy others”.

You didn't want to listen. Taking long strides, you stormed out of the kitchen, slamming the door shut without even saying goodbye.

"Spoiled girl…", he muttered angrily, shaking his head, “ungrateful brat…”.

You spent the rest of the day on deck, attending to some of your duties. Beckman was nowhere to be found, and you still felt yourself quite angry enough to seek him out and talk to him. Your reaction was somewhat irrational, but you couldn't avoid it.

Nonetheless, you felt a hint of sadness and guilt within you. After all, the first mate was your favorite person on the ship, and you never used to argue.

“Hey, do you know where Beck is?" asked one man.

"No clue," another replied.

"Last time I saw him, he was busy in the galley," you heard someone else say.

You remained occupied, tending to your tasks throughout the day. As your hunger intensified while working, you contemplated pilfering something from the pantry.

You made your way to the galley, a familiar scent of tobacco wafting through the crack of the partially closed door. You reached for the knob to push it, but halted abruptly upon hearing the voice of the vice captain muttering grumpily from inside.

“... don't know why the fuckin’ hell I bother ...”.

Your hand released the doorknob, and you decided not to enter; you weren't going to confront an angry superior. You turned on your heel and made your way back to your duties, resigned.

Three hours later, your stomach growled like a sea monster from the Grand Line.

"Screw it, I'm going to eat that crappy cereal".

You headed to the galley again, finding nobody there. You opened the pantry, grabbed the cereal, a spoon, and a bowl, and sat at the table with a sigh. Pouring the cereal into the bowl, you took a closer look at it and to your surprise, there were no raisins. They had been removed and replaced by meticulously sliced chocolate bits.

You rose immediately and made your way onto the deck in search of the first mate, the spoon still in your hand.

“Beckman!!!”

You saw him standing at the prow, his expression grave as he concentrated on securing a line with a sailor's knot.

“I’m right’ere”, he answered crankily.

Glancing at his hands, you noticed that his fingers were speckled with tiny flecks of chocolate.

"Did you remove all the raisins from the cereal?!"

“... aye,” he mumbled without looking at you.

"By hand?"

“... aye,” his focus was still on the rope.

"And chopped bits of chocolate for me?"

“That I did,” he replied, still avoiding your gaze.

You rushed towards him, leaping into his arms, causing him to drop the rope, which fell to the ground as he caught you. Enveloping him with your arms, you started giving him little kisses all over his face.

“Forgive me, I am sorry, I shouldn't have shouted at you”.

“... it's a’right,” he responded, slightly embarrassed and trying to conceal a smile.

“... And… thank…” you said, unable to stop pecking his cheeks, “… you”.

“... anytime, darlin',” he hugged you tightly against him.

From the bowcastle, a group of men were watching you.

“Beck!! She got you wrapped around her finger, huh?” one of them shouted, laughing.

Without letting go of your embrace, Beckman shifted his gaze towards them.

“GET BACK TO FUCKIN' WORK!!”

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

He Fell First (She Fell Harder)

A You Play Stupid Games, You Win Stupid Prizes (I'm Not a Game You Want to Lose) Oneshot

Past!Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader, Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Description: The Five times Bitsie couldn't keep her eyes (and thoughts) off Jake and the One time Jake couldn't keep his eyes off Bitsie.

Disclaimer: Female!Reader

Warnings: This fic encompasses the entire timeline of the events happening in You Play Stupid Games, You Win Stupid Prizes. As such, there are mentions of cheating, some cursing, sex, sexual themes, as well as a look into Bitsie's mental state during the rough non-consensual sex mentioned in Love Has No Limits, Part Two of the main story.

The content presented in this story is for audiences age 18 and over only. MINORS DNI. I will not be accepting taglist requests from Blank or Ageless Blogs for this story. I do my best to portray adult relationships in this fic. Please do not interact with this story if you feel you are not ready to read about these themes.

Word Count: 7202 

A/N: Hi All! So remember when I mentioned I wasn't ready to let Jake and Bitsie go when I ended the main series? Here we are! I'm so happy to share this new installment in their story with you all! It's also my first time writing a 5 plus 1 style fic, so I hope you all love it.

A lot of this story will not make sense if you've not read the main part of the series linked below.

Thanks to @horseshoegirl and @desert-fern for reading over this oneshot as I was trying to figure out how to write a 5 plus 1 style fic!

AO3: Cross-posted here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted here!

My Masterlist

Series Masterlist

1. Before Bradley Bradshaw

You're not sure why the blond on the other side of the aisle at the Commissary is staring at you. He's beautiful. You know that for a fact because you have eyes, and you're a little weak at the knees at the sight of how he fills out his khaki uniform. He’s probably only staring because you're a mess, with your hair in a messy bun, standing in the commissary wearing a ratty, holey T-shirt and ripped-stained jeans. Moving sucks. It feels like your spine is just stretching out again after hours in the car. Honestly, you’re not sure why you decided to have all your things shipped to Lemoore instead of directly to North Island. Three trips in your car later, and you’ve got everything you need with you, but you now have an avalanche of boxes waiting in your living room to unpack.

Your entire life in boxes is another reason you’d retreated to the commissary. It’s already 6 in the evening, and you want nothing more than to eat something and flop onto the sofa for the night. You’re hoping, at the very least, to pick up a few important groceries, such as milk, bread, eggs, and cheese, to tide you over until you can run to Whole Foods or Wegmans off base. It’s as you’re debating what type of cereal you should buy that the blond first catches your attention. It’s a Wednesday, and there are a surprisingly large number of khaki-clad navy personnel walking up and down the aisles collecting items they need. You’re probably one of the few in casual clothing, but that doesn’t warrant his staring.

It takes far too much effort to turn your attention back to the two cereal boxes in your hands. You can still feel the prickle of his gaze against the back of your neck.

“Y’know, if you’re deciding between Honey Bunches of Oats and Frosted Mini Wheats, I have to tell you that you’re probably thinking too hard.”

You startle, fumbling with the boxes, and stumble back into a broad, firm chest. His laughter is warm and musical as he steadies you with big, warm hands. 

“I’m sorry.” You’re flushed and hoping that you’re not as sweaty and disgusting as you feel with this Adonis of a man so close to you.

“I startled you, huh?” His grin is crooked and wicked, making you grin sheepishly.

“Yeah, you kind of did.” You turn and gesture at the cereal boxes. “So, what makes you think you know the best cereal?”

“Well, I've been eating it my whole life, you know?” His eyes seem to twinkle as he responds.

“So have I. I happen to like Honey Bunches of Oats, you know?”

“All that tells me, gorgeous, is that you haven't put something truly delicious in that pretty little mouth before today.”

You squeak a little because you're not sure you've ever been so close to a man before.

“So, I would suggest Cinnamon Toast Crunch. It's sweet and spicy, just like you are.”

You can feel yourself flush, even as he reaches past you, pulls the correct cereal box from the shelf, and places it in your cart.

“See you around, beautiful. I hope you enjoy your time on North Island.”

You’re a flustered mess as you checkout at the counter several moments later. You think about this flirty stranger as you unpack your house and put everything away for the rest of the week and most of the weekend. A part of you isn’t sure how to handle such casual flirting. Could that stranger have been serious? Did he actually want to see you around North Island? Or was that just something he was saying to be kind?

2. Befriending the Daggers

As silly as it seems, you feel like you can taste cinnamon sugar on your tongue when you and your team are introduced to the Dagger Squad in one of the hangars at North Island.

The reason why is simple. The blond who had been haunting your thoughts all weekend is standing at attention in the front row. His cocky smirk makes your knees weak, and you’re sure that his eyes on you make you stutter as you introduce yourself. Throughout that first briefing, you can feel his gaze track across your form as you take notes in your spiky hand. You think you see him smirk when your hand cramps, and you need to shake your fingers out. Still, it catches your attention in a fleeting moment, not keeping it for longer than a few seconds before the briefing grabs you again.

What follows is a day full of briefings, the problem with the laser targeting system setting your mind ticking into overdrive. Looking at the faces of the others on your team, you can see hints of the same curiosity and the same drive to solve this problem. Of course, it would be asking a bit much to be able to view the plane telemetry data and hardware logs and hear the comms recordings so soon after your introduction to the team. Something tells you you’ll have to wait for that. 

“So, you’re joining us for drinks, right?” It’s one of the female lieutenants, Trace, you think her name is, who invites you out. “We go to this little place on the beach called The Hard Deck. Penny’s amazing!”

“You should join us, Bitsie!” His voice sounds just as good in the hangar as at the commissary, if a bit less worn and tired. The nickname is new, but coupled with the grin he’s leveling in your direction, you’re willing to accept it. You smile sweetly at the blond as he walks up behind Lieutenant Trace. 

“I’m Jake, Jake Seresin. How’d you like the Cinnamon Toast Crunch?”

Before you can respond, though, Trace muscles her way back into the conversation. “Stop making her feel awkward, Bagman.”

You smile gently over her shoulder at Jake as Natasha walks you away, talking a mile a minute. The Hard Deck is a surprisingly homey place. It’s warm and brightly lit, smelling of lemon polish and faintly of yeasty beer. It bothers you a little bit how Natasha doesn’t seem to want to let you go. Jake’s been waiting, sweetly, this whole time. You want to thank him for his cereal recommendations. But she’s introducing you to the others, and you're actually having fun.

Before long, you find yourself in a circle of women, and you’re surprised by how nice it feels. Mara, you've known and worked with for years, but you've never been close. Callie and Natasha are like two sides of the same coin. Both of them are whip-smart and take no shit. They’re the perfect counterparts to you and Mara.

 Looking back, you've never really had many female friends. Most of your colleagues are males, males who don't want anything to do with you outside of seeing you every day and inevitably getting shown up by you. So it’s nice standing at one of the bar’s high-top tables while getting to know your new colleagues and hopefully your new friends.

You’re laughing and smiling, vacantly swaying to the song's beat pouring out of the jukebox when the song cuts out. You startle, then hum as you hear the plunking of keys from the piano on the other side of the bar. When you’d walked in, talking to Natasha, you’d thought the piano was just an ornament, something defunct and unplayable. The tune leaves the wooden instrument echoing with age.

Natasha crows with glee at the sound; all the Daggers roused into a festive mood in moments. “C’mon, you two! You’re in for a real treat tonight!”

The raspy voice that starts singing melds beautifully with the old instrument, lustily belting the words of an old song into the air. It seems to be a normal occurrence. As Natasha dances and pulls you into the fray surrounding the piano, you feel relaxed enough to dance along awkwardly in her wake. The other Daggers are arrayed in a half-moon around the back of the piano, facing a man with auburn curls wearing a cheerful printed shirt. You recognize him as one of the Daggers you haven’t been introduced to yet. He’s feeling the jazzy beat of the song as his fingers dance across the yellowed ivory keys. 

When he peers over the rims of his RayBans, his eyes meet yours. In that instance, the world stops because his smile takes your breath away. You’ve never felt this seen, this beautiful. His eyes sparkle, the color of the whiskey in the glass atop the glossy wood of the piano. You’ve never heard this song before, but damn, if you don’t want to learn the lyrics via osmosis just to see him smile at you for singing along. You’re not sure when the song ends, or even that it does, notes echoing in the suddenly quiet expanse of your mind. You swallow when he stands up from the bench and downs the watered-down whiskey, tracking a droplet of the amber liquid as it drips down his neck. You have to remind yourself to be cool, to avoid glancing at his mouth as he swaggers up to you.

“Hi,” His voice is like woodsmoke, dark and gorgeous as it drips into your ears. “I’m Bradley Bradshaw, but you can call me Rooster. I’m one of the Daggers, but if I’d met you before now, I’m not sure I would forget.”

“Bradley…. Bradshaw?” You’re not sure when Natasha, Callie, and Mara moved away, but when you look, you’re all alone in the corner of the bar with just Bradley Bradshaw for company. 

“It’s a family name.” He drags one of his big hands through glistening curls, his bicep bunching alluringly in the frankly silly shirt he’s wearing. “My dad wanted the alliteration. My mom loved him too much to say no. So here I am.”

“It sounds like you love them a lot.” 

His smile falters at your earnest words, a frown dipping his lips down for a few seconds before the smirk rises back into place. “Yeah, I did.”

Your mind churns, because you feel like you’ve pressed unwittingly onto a still un-healed old wound. You feel like you should apologize, like you have to apologize, but he doesn’t let you. The play of emotions on his face is lightning-fast. Before you can think, he’s already leading you to the next conversation topic: you.

“But that’s enough about me. Tell me about you.” 

You flush and let your life story, a highly edited version, drip off your tongue. You’ve never felt like this before. You feel seen and inexplicably gorgeous, faced with a six-foot-tall man whose eyes seem to see right through you. He makes you feel giddy. 

“What’re you doing tucked away in this corner with Bradshaw, Bitsie?” Jake’s voice makes you smile in a completely different way than when Bradley was making you giggle earlier.

“We were just chatting, Jake.”

“Yeah, Bagman.” It surprises you to see the nearly cruel look on Bradley’s kind-looking face. “We were just chatting. Piss off.”

Jake lifts his hands as he backs away, though you don’t miss how he mouths, “Later, pretty girl” to you over Bradley’s shoulder. You don’t miss the frown creasing on his handsome face, either.

“Does he call you Bitsie often?” Bradley sounds surprisingly concerned as he curls one of his big hands around your waist.

“He just started today.” 

Bradley’s face makes you bite your lips. “I’m pretty sure he’s just teasing me, Bradley. It’s okay.”

“No, no, it’s not.” You can hear the rumble of his voice in your chest as he leans closer. “Sweetheart, he’s making fun of you. He doesn’t take you or your job seriously. He took your cute, little introductory speech and turned it into a mockery!”

“He isn’t making fun of me, Bradley.”

“Yeah, he is, sweetheart.” He tucks a strand of hair behind your ears. “Bagman makes fun of everyone and everything. He doesn’t know how to give a compliment seriously if he tries.”

“He’s just going to hurt you, gorgeous.” 

“No, he’s not.” You scoff.

“Turn around, sweetheart.”

You turn as bidden, expecting to see Jake looking at you with that same sweet look on his face. Instead, what you see is Jake smirking down at a gorgeous willowy blonde with big boobs and sweet, dainty features. 

You, in your frumpy little business casual pants set, look terrible in comparison. When his eyes rise to meet yours, the smile falls a little, but it grows into something smarmy and ingenuine as his eyes meet the man standing behind your shoulder.

“See, sweetheart? The man flirts just to flirt. That’s all he means when he calls you Bitsie. He’ll flirt and then go home with someone else. You’re not his type. But luckily, you’re mine.”

His words make you smile, and you devote the brunt of your attention to Bradley Bradshaw again. You can feel the itch of eyes on you all night long. But when you sneak furtive glances over your shoulders at where Jake is standing with that blonde bimbo draped all over him, his attention always seems to be on her. But you can still feel the itch of his gaze in between your shoulders. 

3. Dating Bradley Bradshaw

After that first night, you keep a close eye on the Daggers, especially how they interact with each other. Jake Seresin always seems to be on the outskirts of the group. Only Coyote goes out of his way to include Jake. Even when he is a central part of the conversation, Hangman seems to prefer biting commands and witty repartee, which doesn’t endear him to his squadron. You hear them all, though, noting the jokes that are so sly and cerebral that they pass the others by. You notice his concern, the tightly wound worry in every muscle as he tries his best to ensure everyone comes back home safe and sound, even in the midst of training.

Something about his attitude still bothers you, though. Or maybe it’s how he always insists on calling you Bitsie instead of your name. He can’t seem to bring himself to give you any respect, either, and it’s starting to piss you off. If you didn’t know differently, you’d assume Jake Seresin didn’t believe you belonged here, working on this team and completing vital work for the Pentagon and the US Navy. So, you dread walking into the pilot’s ready room on base for coffee. You’ve been dragging all day, and you have it on good authority that the pilot’s ready room has the best coffee on base. 

Well, your thermos from home is empty, and you could use the pick-me-up, so you head over there, hoping you can avoid Jake Seresin. All you want is a decent cup of coffee before you’re back to staring at flight diagnostics until your eyes bleed.

The ready room is quiet, barring the ever-present roaring hum of jet engines in flight, and to your satisfaction, there is a pot of coffee waiting for you. You sniff at its contents, a little disappointed because there’s only enough for half a mug once you’ve assured yourself of its relative freshness. You make your mug happily, doctoring it to your satisfaction and taking the time to look around. Bradley and Nat have told you about the days they've spent here between hops while training for the Uranium Mission. The walls are covered in pictures, and you take the time to examine them as you sip your coffee.

When the radio flickers on with an echoey buzz as it connects to the comms of the jets in flight, you startle and whirl around.

“If you’re looking for the Chicken, he’s up in the air.” You have to fight to keep your dismay from showing on your face. You must be at least a little unsuccessful since there is an imperceptible smirk growing on Hangman’s face as he looks at you from one of the sofas. “At least you’ve found the coffee.”

“It’s the best coffee on base, after all.” 

You refill your mug and try your best to ignore Hangman. But when you go to take another sip, you’re met with only the dregs at the bottom of your mug. There’s silence between you as you scramble into the cupboards, looking for the fresh coffee. When you measure the beans into the grinder and fire the grinder up, you deliberately avoid looking for the aviator lying supine on the sofa. You find a modicum of your composure as you measure the grinds into a new filter and fill the carafe of the coffee maker with fresh water. You hit the buttons decisively and hum appreciatively as the scent of fresh bitter coffee wafts from the pot. From the radio set, you can hear Phoenix and Bob on the comms, mostly Bob, as he clues his pilot onto unseen perils in the sky. On occasion, you can hear Phoenix’s measured tone and Bradley’s rough rasp, too.

“So, Bitsie, how do you take your coffee?”

 You startle, sending crystals of sugar skittering across the countertop as Hangman’s voice gets even closer to you than it was before. You’re always impatiently waiting for the coffee to brew, so you always add the creamer and sugar to the bottom of your mug before pouring in the coffee. Hangman chuckles when he sees the sugar dripping lazily out of the torn open packet in a glittering stream. 

“Sugar, huh?” He pushes you away and begins to wipe the sticky substance away but stops once he sees the bottom of your mug. “Fuck, Bitsie, do you pour any coffee into your mug at all?”

“Oh, trust me,” you snap, on the defensive at the sound of his voice so close to you, “I desperately need the caffeine to put up with you, after all.”

Something about the joking look on his face fades away at your tone, though the smile doesn’t. 

“I drink my coffee black, you know?” He chuckles, leaning against the counter as he holds your mug hostage on the other side of him. “I like my coffee hot and full-bodied, a little bitter, but oh, so smooth on my tongue.”

He takes two measured steps into your space. With how close he is, you’re inundated with the scent of his cologne and the bitter tang of jet fuel. “Coincidentally, I like my women like that too.”

“And how do they like you?” One of his eyebrows rises at your statement. “Your women, Bagman. How do they like you?”

“Oh, honey.” He grins as he fills the mug up and turns around. “I promise they don’t have any complaints.”

He sips insolently out of your mug, tongue lapping at the traces of coffee left on the spoon he used to stir the steaming beverage before handing the mug filled with hot liquid back to you. Your mind stutters as Jake Seresin stares you down like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen. “Your coffee isn’t half bad either, Bitsie.” You can feel the warmth of his touch where his fingers brush against yours. “A little sweet, but it figures when the drinker is as sweet as you are.”

When you sip from the mug with your face on fire, it tastes even better than when you make it for yourself. You slip out of the room when a crackle of feedback attracts Jake’s attention. It doesn’t occur to you until you’re sitting in your chair and staring at the after-action reports of the Uranium Mission that you’re placing your mouth exactly where his was in an indirect kiss. 

For the rest of the afternoon, you find your mind tracking to green eyes and a sweet smile bared genuinely in your direction. Your brain feels like a stuck record, trapped futilely in the crosshairs of his gaze from when he’d been teasing you about your coffee preferences.

Worse than the bonfire lighting up in your stomach, there’s the guilt swarming in your belly after what happened. What happened with Jake in the ready room could classify as cheating, right? You’re not exactly sure because you’re not the most experienced. You also don’t want to tell Bradley because what if you have been unfaithful to him? You can’t confide in Natasha either, because she’s Bradley’s best friend. 

Suddenly, your coffee goes from tasting like god’s ichor to tasting like ash on your tongue. Fucking Jake Seresin. Why did he have to go out of his way to make your life miserable?

4. A North Island Night Out

The more time you spent around Bradley Bradshaw, the more it felt like you could fall in love. Bradley’s sweet and kind, and he never once makes you feel bad about your career choice. Sometimes, in those long afternoons stuffed inside a hangar with ceiling fans barely pushing at stagnant air, you wish you could say the same about Jake Seresin. The worst part is how he has reasons to be as cocky and arrogant as he is. He flies his jet like a man possessed, or maybe like a man with nothing to lose. Some of you can’t help but wonder what you would have faced if you'd been going out with Jake instead of Bradley. You're not sure you would have been enough to change his ways.

Bradley, on the other hand? He's like your knight in shining armor. He never minds your rambling or how you babble when you get sucked into a conversation. In fact, you'd argue that Bradley Bradshaw is the first person who has ever taken you seriously. He makes you feel superhuman, like there is never any problem you can't solve. His smile still has butterflies taking flight in thick, cloying swarms in your stomach. He makes you laugh, and god when he kisses you? You feel radiant, like one word will have you taking off faster than an F-18.

A part of you can’t believe him, even now. He hadn't laughed when you'd told him how inexperienced you were, in truth, what you wanted him to give you for your first time.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” He'd groaned into your ear, “Just let me make you feel good, on your terms, as fast or slow as you want me to be.”

You know what he's offering. As fast or slow as you want me to be is his way of telling you to take your time. But you're sure you will explode if you have to make out with Bradley Bradshaw again while rubbing a wet patch into the thigh of his jeans, while his fingers massage over your nipples and his tongue tangles languidly with yours. 

You’ve had sex with him before, the sweet, gentle missionary kind. In fact, you’d argue that it was the perfect way to lose your virginity. But you can’t help but wonder if there isn’t more to sex with a man you love than a few slow moments in bed. You’re not even sure you orgasmed that night, or at least, it never felt like how you’ve made yourself climax. But ever since then, he’s kept you at arm's length. Sex was supposed to be the last step before all of the walls came down between the two of you. Maybe you can finally get Bradley to give you what you want, then? If only this date weren’t starting at The Hard Deck, though if you think back, most of yours do. It’s not like the Hard Deck isn’t a nice bar - it is. But The Hard Deck isn’t the most romantic of venues. 

When you drive up to the Hard Deck in your little car at promptly six in the evening, you’re dressed to the nines, wearing a cute little sundress with a flared skirt and fitted bodice. It pushes your tits up and is nearly completely backless. You’re not wearing much under the dress, just a little lace-edged thong and strappy heels elevating you a few inches. Stepping through the door, it seems like the entire bar falls silent. For several long moments, all you can hear is the tapping of your heels against the floor. People seem to float out of your way as you greet Penny, grabbing your drink from her, a soda in a glass bottle dripping condensation, and walk towards the pool tables in the back of the bar.

Heads turn as you walk past, and you can feel a smug smile curl your lips. On any other night, the arrangement of the Daggers around the pool table would have been normal. You’d be joining them by now, taking your place next to Bradley to hang besottedly on his every word. You’d be the only one not in uniform.

 Tonight, there isn’t a uniform in sight. Tonight, you’re dressed to impress. But you’re not dressed to impress the other Daggers, only Bradley. You hope your sexy little dress will be enough to have the romantic moment you’ve been longing for, finally. All your boyfriend needs to do is turn around and see you. 

Nat and Bob confer in hushed tones as Bradley racks up against the pool table with the cue in his hand. He’s wearing those jeans that you adore, the pair that fits like a glove and with fabric so worn that it’s soft against your hands. Hangman and Coyote are on the other side of the pool table, identical frowns on their faces as they strategize over the configuration of the balls on the worn felt emblazoned with jets.

But it’s Hangman who sees you first with a clattering of his cue as it impacts the floor. His eyes bug out, mouth parting as his eyes rake over you from head to toe. His reaction causes silence to ripple outwards with him at its epicenter. Dagger after Dagger pauses to stare at you. It’s a gratifying feeling. Nat and Callie wink at you, and Nat carefully prods a pink-cheeked Bob into resuming their conversation. The only person arrayed around the pool tables who doesn’t seem to know you’re there is the man you dressed up for. Jake is nearly mute as you clack forward, sipping on your drink greedily because something about his gaze has you feeling hot and flushed. The only time he backs off is when Bradley seems to realize you’re right there.

“Fuck, baby.” Your boyfriend groans in your ears. His voice makes your skin flare hot, and a desperate ache starts between your legs. “Look at you all pretty and gorgeous for me. Let me finish this last round, and then I’m all yours.”

One round turns to two, and then three, and before long, you’re left all alone in a corner of the bar while the Daggers, including Bradley, party like you don’t exist. All of that effort to make it a romantic night, and you’re sitting here like you don’t exist. If you have to watch another badge bunny drape herself all over your boyfriend, you are going to scream or do something drastic. Maybe making out with Jake will get his attention.

“It’s a shame, you know?” You nearly topple off of your stool at the words emanating from next to you. “You look so pretty, Bitsie, and Bradshaw can’t even open his eyes to see his girl waiting for him.”

Hangman sounds so sure of you, so sure that you’re better than Bradley Bradshaw deserves.

“He just wanted to grab another drink.”

“That was three hours ago, Bits.” When Jake chuckles, you can feel your hackles raise. “Didn’t you have dinner reservations or something like that?”

Before you can respond, because yeah, you did, Bradley’s standing there.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Bagman?” Bradley is slurring his words, listing from side to side as he stares the other man down.

“She’s mine, Bagman. Don’t you forget it!”

“If she’s yours, why are you ignoring her and walking around with badge bunnies draped all over ya?”

You can tell by how red Bradley’s face gets that he is one more word from launching himself at Jake. You’re unsure what prompts you to step in, but you do, sliding your hand up to the sweaty curls at the base of your boyfriend’s neck and whispering into his ear. You breathe your need, your want for him, into his ears. You have to ignore the scent of alcohol and sweat wafting sour from his skin, but you succeed in grabbing his attention. 

But a part of you wishes your seductive ploy hadn’t.

You got your wish; your need to have sex with your boyfriend granted. But it’s not anything like you expected it to be. Bradley left bruises on your skin and bruises on your heart. He’d been rough with his touch and his words. But more than that, you can’t help but wonder if this would have happened with Jake. If he’d make you feel better than Bradley ever could. Isn’t sex supposed to feel good? 

Faced with Bradley’s fumbling, you’d been anything but wet between your legs. You’d only started to get there when you thought, selfishly, of Jake. There was no foreplay, no making sure you’re alright. No kissing, no touching. There were no hallmarks of any of the care and gentleness Bradley usually treats you with. The whole experience has you feeling worse than you did in the car as he called you a slut for talking to a colleague and friend. Slut. It’s a word he’d used often with you in bed that night, too. A word that makes you feel guilty, dirty, and disgusting all at once. 

What does it say about you that you had to think of a colleague and friend to get wet instead of your boyfriend?

Whether you realize it or not, that’s the first crack in the shaky, perhaps already crumbling, foundations of your relationship with Bradley Bradshaw.

5. After Bradley Bradshaw

You have work to do; you know you do. But it’s been under a day since you told Jake Seresin how your relationship with Bradley Bradshaw imploded easier than if it had been bombed. Realizing Nat had known, known what he did and condoned the betrayal, his cheating, is another stab to the back that you weren’t expecting. You can't believe how Bradley could harbor less remorse and guilt over having sex with Britney than you did over some harmless, practically meaningless flirting.

What happened to ‘sisters before misters’ and all sentiments to that effect? You’re thankful, truly thankful, that Jake didn’t know and that Mickey and Mara were unaware as well. Being so far away from North Island has given you a sense of clarity you never thought you were missing. 

You’d be lying if you said Jake Seresin doesn’t have something to do with your newfound clarity, too. 

One night, a bushel-load of tears and an unburdening of your heart, and he’s already raised himself in your esteems. It’s in how he’d listened to you, which has your thoughts spinning. Back when your relationship with Bradley was still rock solid, you'd thought Bradley was the only man who could make you feel like the most important person in the world. But you didn't realize how often Bradley’s eyes would glaze over when you got excited. You’re not sure you’ve ever been able actually to talk to your ex. 

Jake let you cry, cry like you’d lost your reason for living. He’d held you while your suppressed grief had unleashed. He’d heard you spill your heart out to him and release all of your pain into the squalling storm winds. Then there was the rage in his face, in his voice, the rage he’d held tightly coiled in the corded muscles of his arm, in the jut of his proud jaw, when he found out Bradley had broken you, dominated your spirit, for a bet. 

You’re not sure why he’s been so nice. He has nothing to gain by being kind to you. He didn’t when he wanted to get you off deck in the middle of the storm last night. Though uncharitably, you’re sure he’d likely wanted you off deck so he could get off deck himself. He didn’t have to make you a cup of coffee or raid his own special stash of granola bars, either. But more than anything, you’d love to know why he let you cry snot and tears all over his uniform when it was well past lights out. You keep thinking back to how it felt to be in his arms, how good it felt.

Unbidden, you pull out the paper Jake had handed you while you were eating lunch in the commissary with Mara and Mickey. It’s nothing special, just a note written in ballpoint pen on run-of-the-mill lined notebook paper. The paper is silky smooth against the pads of your fingers, the edges ragged like he’d ripped the page out of a notebook he had lying around. You can feel the indentations the pen had left on the other side of the page. You can see how the letters slur across the page as he’d written, the ink smudging imperceptibly as he wrote hastily. They’re just lyrics transcribed on the page, and they shouldn’t be thought-provoking. 

It’s from a song you’ve heard a thousand times before, played ad nauseam on the radio with a catchy tune getting stuck in your head. More than the song lyrics, it’s the thought behind those lyrics. Honestly, you’re not sure how he got them for you. He called his sister in the middle of the night when he likely had to get special permission to do so just so he could get some stupid lyrics for you.

You can still see the twinkle in his eyes as he blushed crimson. He’d seemed proud, proud he was the reason for your laughter, proud that he’d pulled the wool from your eyes and showed you how ill Bradley had actually treated you. That look on his face made you feel like levitating. 

You can’t deny it anymore. Bradley Bradshaw may have made butterflies swarm in your stomach, but Jake Seresin made you feel like lightning arcing through the air. He makes you feel wild and free.

+1. The Day Easton is Born

A part of you feels like you should be angry that it took only four years before you stopped being the sole item of your husband’s attention. But you’d be lying if you didn’t feel the same way that Jake did, especially because the cute little thing that’s caught his attention has caught yours, too. 

He’s about four hours old with squishy cheeks, a red face, and a voice that would make his daddy proud. You’re sure that his voice is just like his dad’s, but you can’t say you’ve ever heard Jake’s voice ever hit the octaves this adorable sweetheart hits. It hurts a little bit that you’ve been ordered not to move, too, because everything in you is itching to pick your baby up and hold him in your arms. But Jake’s on baby duty at the moment. If it’s a poopy diaper, you’re more than ready to let him take that burden on.

You tilt the bed up until you’re reclining and tip your head gently to the side until you see the heart rate monitor reassuringly blinking your vital signs at you. When you turn your head to the other side, Jake's standing over the small changing table in your room, leaning down and looking into it. His face looks gentler than you've ever seen it, soft, like a man stripped bare to his basest parts. He has no walls up, no fears, just wonder as he stares down at the little bed. Well, maybe he’s looking a little less awestruck and a little more disgusted because your newborn son does, indeed, have a soiled diaper.

He’s not wearing a shirt. This fact doesn't surprise you because Jake wanders around your house half-naked all the time. At the same time, you’re both in a hospital, and it’s at least 10 degrees colder than it should be. You’re wrapped up in a soft pajama set and wearing a thick cardigan, but you’re still cold. When Jake hefts the small wriggling body of your son into his arms and settles him against his chest, now clean, your heart swells. The baby coos, a little snuffling exhale of breath that squeaks a little as he settles into Jake’s arms. Jake doesn’t seem to realize that you’re awake, either.

“Awww, hey, Buddy.” His voice is a tender rumble, big hands cradling precious cargo with the same surety he flies his jet. “Let’s not wake up Mama, huh? She’s so tired.”

“You took us by surprise, our sweet boy. We weren’t expecting you to show up in the middle of a Longhorns game, for sure. I will say that your arrival was a little more exciting than a game-winning touchdown. I wonder if your Uncle Javy will let Daddy watch the game on his DVR when you’re home? In any case, I do not look forward to replacing my Longhorns rug. You had to pick that rug to make your appearance on, didn’t you? Say, East, what’s the likelihood that your Mama would let me keep it if I wash it off?”

You have to stifle your snickers because the baby chirps and half burps in response. You can vaguely see the dark blue of the baby’s eyes as he blinks in Jake’s firm hold. East’s lips purse and part, and you know it’s only a matter of time before you’ll be in need again. But you’re so in love, and hearing Jake talk to your son might be your newest favorite thing.

“Yeah, I had that feeling. You’ll learn sooner or later that your Mama’s words are law. She’s going to be the disciplinarian between the two of us, for sure. You’re already wrapped around my fingers. I’m not sure I could tell you no for anything.”

He sighs, sounding choked up as he trails a finger down the baby’s soft cheek. “I’ve got so much I want to teach you. How to smile and utilize those perfect Seresin dimples. How to talk your way out of any problem you face. How to make your Mama smile (and maybe cry) every Mother’s Day as we show her how amazing she is.”

He presses a soft kiss to the top of the baby’s head and rocks slightly back and forth on his heels, an action that doesn’t soothe your son even a little. East is squalling already, and you have a feeling he will ratchet up a bit higher in volume if he doesn’t get what he wants.

“Hey, Cowboy.” Your voice is soft as you get Jake’s attention.

“Morning, Bitsie-baby.” His smile is wide as he stares down at you.

“There’s no way it’s morning, Jake.” He shrugs and rocks back and forth a little more as the baby objects a little louder with each sway. “And gimme my son.”

Jake smirked as he transferred the baby, eyes softening as you situated East against your chest, snickering as the baby latched hungrily onto your breast for his midnight snack. 

“So he’s your son when you want him, but he’s mine when he’s got a nasty diaper?”

“Sounds about right, Seresin.”

“Well, he’s a Seresin, alright.” Jake snickers when you swat at his abs. “Made right for your tits, and aren’t they a pretty sight.”

“Not in front of the baby, Jacob.”

“Well, I dunno when I’m going to see them again one on one!”

“Try me when East’s two years old. Because I’m going to need that long to recover from having your big-headed child.” Your voice is as dry as the Sahara Desert as you laugh at your husband.

“Fair enough.” He tucks a wild strand of hair behind your ear and settles on the edge of the hospital bed. You snuggle into his side as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Have I told you how beautiful you look today?”

“I’ll take beautiful over the complete mess I probably am.”

“You look gorgeous, Bitsie!”

You snort. “Jake, I haven’t showered in 48 hours, I was in labor for most of it, and I just had a baby. So what about me looks beautiful to you at this moment?”

“Everything.” He presses a gentle kiss to your temple. “You’ve given me the best things in my life. You gave me your heart and a second chance with you. You gave me a family in you and our little Easton. You’ve changed my life.”

“If I didn’t find you gorgeous because of all of our relationship, then I’d definitely argue it is the memory of the lingerie you were wearing under your dress at last year's Navy Gala.”

“I think that lingerie was pretty life-changing for both of us, Cowboy.” You cradle Easton close and gesture for one of the many burp cloths arrayed on the table on Jake’s other side. “I’m about 90% sure that was the night we made East.” You pat the baby’s bottom gently, grimacing when he lets loose a surprisingly loud belch before cooing angelically. “Well, you certainly burp like your dad, don’t you?”

“Hey!” Jake tugs the baby out of your arms, swaying side to side as the baby’s eyes droop closed. He snuggles East close before laying him into the crib. You watch approvingly as he pulls the crib closer, the same worries about your newborn son in his mind as yours. “I’ll have you know, kiddo, that your mama loves my burps.”

“Don’t lie to our son. He’s not even a day old, Seresin, and you’re already lying to him!”

“Am I lying if I’m telling him the truth? His mama does love me.” You wrap your arms around his waist as he settles back into the hospital bed next to you.

“Yeah, she does.” You kiss his torso, nuzzling in close as he holds you close.

“I love you so much, Jake. I fell in love with you a long time ago, and I’m not likely to stop now. Having this,” you gesture to the hospital room at large, “is better than my best dreams. Though, I would prefer it if you could convince your mom and sister to let us have some time with East alone before they descend on us.”

“You got it, beautiful.” He runs his hands gently up and down your back. God, you're not sure you can give him up, not anymore. Right now, you're pretty sure that if Jake gets out of the hospital bed, you'll freeze solid.

“You were always my dream, Bitsie baby. Forever and always.” You barely hear the words, sleep pulling you under riptide-fast. But a part of you knows Jake doesn't mind. It's always been a not-so-secret fantasy of his, having his family at arm's reach. 

Honestly, you could get used to it too. Your Jake Seresin pillow is the best of the best, after all.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN ON AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR ON TUMBLR BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR TUMBLR, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

Taglist:

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[bellyprincess]

"No, stop, that's for the babies", you whine as you don't even try to stop me. I take one massive, aching, milk filled tit into my mouth. A gentle suck releases a blast of milk, causing you to gasp. I drink a little and then repeat with the other. You bite your lip to stiffle the moan, too lost in pleasure to realize I stopped already. Now they're primed and leaking steadily. But the babies that are meant to suckle are still in your belly for a month or two more. You try to milk yourself, only to find your tits are too big and you can't reach your thick nipples. I stand with a smug look and watch your milk trail down from your nipples and drip onto the floor.

"S-Stopppp~," I whined out again, but it sounded more like a pathetic moan as the pressure in my tits was being released. My eyes rolled back into my head as my thighs pressed together. My belly was so swollen it was heavy as it rested on the top of my legs, almost reaching my knees. The weight felt so good though as it pressed down, putting pressure on my clit. And my huge belly was a perfect place for my almost ridiculously large breasts to rest.

I couldn't even reach around them to milk myself, instead having to rely on you or the suckers that we hooked up above the bed in the bedroom, the latter option quite literally milking me like a cow. You snickered at my comment and rolled your eyes, "For the babies? I think we'll be fine. We have two chest freezers full of frozen breastmilk. But you're right, we should save more. I want cereal for breakfast." I moaned at the comment, picturing you eating your cereal after dispensing your milk for it straight from my tits.

"Anyways, these nipples are so fat. Do you really think our babies will be able to fit their mouths around them? They nearly fill up all of my mouth, princess." You teased gently but I knew you were right and it only my cunt throb more. Your hands were rubbing my belly and calming the babies within while you forced both nipples into your mouth at once, though you couldn't do that for long because it dispensed more milk than you could drink.

When you took a step back, I nearly whined, my tits still steadying dripping and silently begging you to keep sucking them. "You still have two more months of growing, maybe more if you're lucky. I'm sure we can save more milk for all these rascals in the meantime." You pat my belly like it was your prize animal in the county fair show, and in some ways it was. Every time we went out in public, people looked at me like I was a prize animal. Your prized breeding cow. Belly so full it showed them how fertile I am, tits so leaky and swollen it showed them how good I am of a mommy, and pussy so wet it showed them how much of a slut I am.

I whimpered and rocked back and forth, using the weight of my belly on my clit to feel some relief. Reaching out to you I pleaded with my eyes, trying to get you back onto my tits or rubbing my belly again. "Pleaseee, touch me again, daddy!" You chuckled and caved to my request, stepping forward again and rubbing my belly while you locked up the dropping milk. Just feeling your occasional kitten licks on my fat nipples and your hands on my tummy was enough to send me over the edge. I came with a slutty moan, my juices spreading over the seat that was hidden beneath me. You laughed at the sight of my tits spraying like hoses when I came, only to help me lay down on my side. "In the meantime, I'm going to practice putting more babies in you for when these come out."

[moles-hideout]

Norton Campbell x Male! S/o college au!

Tw: Hints of NSFW, fighting (not really but still)

Tags: College au, Established Roommates, Established relationship, Fluff, Crack

A/N: This just very self indulgent tee hee :3

You and Norton have been best friends since Junior high. You two had been together through thick and thin, no matter what life threw at you. You two were inseparable, having each other's back at any time. (Even bailing Norton out of jail once but shhh)

To be clear, Norton is not someone who can be easily approached due to his infamous extreme mood swings but no one would have ever imagined that Norton would have a lover up until now. It felt almost natural for the both of you though. No matter what challenges you two face, you both always find a way support and uplift each other. You've celebrate many achievements together and provide a shoulder to lean on during tough times. The loyalty and care you two have for each other can never be replicated so easily.

Currently, you both graduated with a bang, got into your dream college and are now living in the dorms as roommates. Both of you having shared countless adventures and secrets through out your lives and ever since living together, it made the two of you even closer, to see each other's quirks and flaws. The other students really question if you two are just roommates or an old married couple.

Inside the dorm room, it's covered in a colorful mess of post-it notes with sweet messages, silly doodles, and inside jokes. It's their way of communicating and brightening each other's days. And in random occasions, you two leave love notes that are hidden in the most unexpected and odd places, like inside shoes or inside the cereal, keeping the romance alive in your everyday lives.

One of your favorite things about living together is the silly and weird traditions you two created. From weekend movie marathons to impromptu Mario kart competitions in the living room. Not to mention the endless prank war you two have, from putting plastic bugs in the shower to scaring each other during a scary movie, these traditions and antics have led to countless fond moments of laughter and bonding.

You two created a ridiculous number of nicknames for each other, some of which make no sense to anyone else but for you two, it's filled with love and whacky inside jokes.

Although, there are some downsides with living together. Mornings are a whirlwind of chaos as you two rush around trying to get ready for work or to class, often accidentally grabbing each other's clothes or toothbrushes in the rush.

One time, you accidentally took Norton's jacket to class and your professor (definitely not Luchino) teased you about it teehee.

We all know that Norton is frugal and thrifty, from extreme couponing to bargaining for half a prize. He wants to take you out for a dinner date in a very expensive restaurant? It now costs a fraction of what it was originally priced. Planning to go to that one very expensive amusement park? You bet your sweet ass he'll be surfing on the internet to find online discounts. "NonNon doesn't this [insert item here] cost $150?" "Oh yeah, I got a discount. I got it for $59." "I beg your pardon?-" "Then beg."

One time Norton got a call from one of your friends at the party you were attending, they've called to tell him to go pick your drunk ass up. Once he arrives, he sees you biting someone's ankle like an animal. (He had to tie you up to stop your reign of chaos.)

But your favorite part of the day, is where nighttime comes. Where the stress of the day leaves you both as a sense of peace and comfort replaces it.

There are times when words aren't necessary – just being around each other brings a sense of calm and happiness, you two find solace in each other's presence even in silence. You two can spend hours together simply reading working on their hobbies or just cuddling on the couch without needing to fill the silence with words. Sometimes, you both share vulnerable moments confess secrets and offer each other support. There's no need for words in such, for you both already know what the other is feeling after all. And it's already enough.

Hihihiiii thanks for reading my first hcs, I'm still trying to juggle school work and making hcs so please be a bit patient with me darlings! (⁠づ⁠｡⁠◕⁠‿⁠‿⁠◕⁠｡⁠)⁠づ

[vintagelacerosette]

Tag game Tuesday/picrew catch up!

Oh how I've missed doing these! Thank you so much to these sweetpeas who tagged me to do these tag games/picrew. Lyle @milkovetti Michelle @michellemisfit Bri @y0itsbri Evie @energievie Julia @juliakayyy Georgia @iansw0rld Kat @mybrainismelted Nosho @creepkinginc Cross @crossmydna Willow @ian-galagher Lyds @ardent-fox Vey @look-i-love-u Molly @deathclassic Jay @surviving-maybe 💕

💟Name: Myn/Shermyn

#️⃣Age: 27

🗺️Location: Sydney

🧥Do you own a robe? Describe it. Yeah a pink silky with lace trim one my older sister gifted me as my maid of honour gift 🥰

☕️Do you have a favorite mug? Describe it. Why yes! It's one of my prized possessions! My Gallacrafts mug I made art with the darling & talented Ling @lingy910y

🧣Do you have a favorite blanket? Describe it. You know I don't think I do & that's tragic 😔

🍵Coffee or Tea? Tea

↳🔥🧊Hot or Cold? Cold it's been so damn humid & dry in Sydney rn 😓

🧦Fuzzy socks or Wool socks? Wool

🧤Gloves or Mittens? Gloves but the fingerless kind so I can scroll/read fics on my phone lol

🔥Fireplace or Campfire? Fireplace

🌞🌜Sun or Moon? Both baby! They work in tandem to give us life ☀️🌙

🍬Chocolate candy or Sugar candy? Sugar 🍭

🥐Sweet Pastry or Savory Pastry? Sweet

���Peppermint or Pumpkin Spice? Peppermint. I haven't had pumpkin spice before

🛏️Go to bed early or Wake up early? Wake up early but i don't sleep early to make the happen 🥲

🥣Cold cereal in milk or Hot oatmeal? Cold cereal in milk I especially love the sweet ones. American cereal certainly hit the spot with their cinnamon toast crunch or lucky charms 🤤

🍞Potatoes or Bread? 🥔

And Finally…

🚬 Gallagher or Milkovich? It'll have to be MIlkovich even tho objectively the are more terrible ones than good. But to be fair the great stole my fucking heart 💖

Picrew

Which character from any media would you like to have as a father? 

I think Johnny Rose from Schitt's Creek would be a funny dad plus loaded 🤣

If money, laws, time, and effort were no object, what animal would you want to have?

I'd love an otter omfg they're so damn cute 😭

What is your Chinese takeout order? 

Sweet & sour pork & spinch noodle with wild mushrooms.

What's your favorite emoji?

🥹 I'm particularly fond of this one bc it's the marvelling of beauty for me

Would you rather have a library, greenhouse, or home theater in your house?

I think greenhouse. I think would be so soothing & I feel like I need more plants in my life hahaha

What childhood tv show do you think of the most fondly?

Cardcaptor Sakura 🌸

What was your tumblr like when you first joined?

I joined 2012 it was so aesthetic & I wished be one of those vintage aesthetic blogs hence my tumblr name lmao. I kinda got confused & scared how to use it so i stopped for 2 years. So i missed out all the fun drama i guess lol. Then I started using it as like a scrapbook of things I liked hahah

What clothing style do you love but don't feel compelled to replicate yourself?

50s but I feel that would be such an effort to pull off

If you were plopped into a fictional world, which one would you know the layout of the best?

Pokemon but like in the switch games. I've been playing too much instead of sleeping lmao

What is your favourite piece of art? 

Idk if I have a favourite but one that impacted me in high school was a piece called 'Atomic: full of love, full of wonder' by Nike Savvas. Funny thing is that I got to see it in person may 2 or 3 years after seeing it in a high school text book & having to do essays on it. It was by complete accident & I had no idea see was displaying her work in our national art gallery. It was magic to see a piece irl after studying it 🥰

Do you have a water bottle? what does it look like?

My bestie jusr got me this steel pink hello kitty tumblr that was a collab with a bubble tea shop! I love it I take it to work 💖

What fanfic trope is a quiet fave?

I think time travel with younger selves meeting their older selve & seeing how they fot their happy ending 🥰

Do you carry a daily bag? what does it look like? what's the weirdest thing in it?

Yeah a carry bag for work. It's this tote bag another bestie got me for my last birthday. It's really cute. It's pink & mint green with a cluster of cute things like teddy bear.

If you had to ship Mickey with another Gallagher, who would it be?

Respectfully no ❤️

What is a fanfic trope you didn't expect to like and then very much did?

I'd say mafia au especially bc of the amazing fic by Kay/Shamelessquestions, The Increasingly Poor Decisions of Ian Gallagher.

Do you think s11 Mickey can still carry s11 Ian?

He sure could! He's our swol lil man

Look at them guns!!

Who got custody of the killing bat when they sold the house?

I kind have this tie between Fiona getting it or it being passed to Liam & Franny to keep the legacy going

Not tagging any bc I'm late but if you see this & you want to go ahead starlight 🩷

[chaosandgunpowder]

Will you be coming back to your fans?

I look occasionally hoping you’ll complete Plausible Deniability. But if you don’t. It’s a great reread and at least we know that they are on their way to a great place. Thank you!

Hello you! (I say specifically hello to you, as I know I've had a few in my inbox from you, and while I'll probably not go back and reply to them all, I want you to know I appreciate your check-ins!) but also hello to anyone else checking in on me.

Yes, I will be coming back. I'm aware it's been a hot minute, and trust me, I hate that as much as anyone else. Life is just...hectic as life can be. But I'm here, I'm still plugging away and I will be coming back. Last night I wrapped up in like 4 layers because I can't afford gas prices to heat my house and wrote like another 1k of chapter 11 and then I nearly cried because it's not done yet.

I don't know if that's positive news or not, but at least it means I'm not going anywhere until it's bloody done.

In that spirit, here's an exerpt under the cut. Thank you for sticking with me. It really is appreciated <3

Thomas nods and hmms and considers until Adams throws out an offhanded better to be spending time on this than on your poor, sinking French ship anyway and Thomas hates his own instinctive reaction to the obvious bait, but he just can’t help it.  “Sinking?” he asks, too-sharp and too-defensive even to his own ears. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but that ship is sailing perfectly well, and damn near watertight, actually. Hamilton’s even on board.” Adams laughs, except it’s neither genial nor kind; it’s pitying and patronizing and it sets Thomas’s teeth on edge, and the way he leans forward eagerly, something flashing suddenly in his eyes feels like this is the crux of the matter; like like he’s started this entire damn conversation with the sole purpose of delivering this information like a prize in a cereal box full of bullshit that Thomas has had to sift through to get to. “Thomas, my boy,” he snorts, smugness dripping from every word. “I’ve heard directly from a reliable source that Hamilton’s already put the rusty nail in that coffin. He’s told George directly that it’s not viable. You’ve already been sold down the river.” Thomas is shaking his head before John is even finished, denial on his tongue, because he’s fucking sick of being spoken to like he doesn’t have a clue and that’s not how it is. “No. I don’t know where you heard that, but your source is incorrect. I’ve spoken to Hamilton.” Adams blinks at him for a second before his eyes narrow slightly, and he scoffs. “You can’t be serious, Thomas. You know fine well that you can’t trust him-”

(Plausible Deniability ch11. Note, may change very slightly in final editing!)

[incorrectstarwarslegendsquotes]

Hobbie Klivian: Sometimes profound! Sometimes absurd! It’s Wes Janson! Say some words!

Wes Janson: If you accidentally eat the prize that comes inside your cereal, does that make you a specially marked box?