#to celebrate 100 followers!

[siffrin-enthusiast]

which mutual am i? ask game

[ncis-nerd]

Hungry

100 follower celebration

fandom: marvel

ship: blackhill x fem!reader

about: dinner where our two lovely boss ladies cannot take their hands off you. you're all dressed up and so perfect for them.

warnings: smut, exhibitionism, public sex, very brief reference to politics, pet names, praise, degradation, fingering (r receiving, nat giving), dom blackhill, sub r, r has a uterus, r is referred to as she.

"A-and did you see his reaction!" Bucky exclaimed, taking a sip of his drink. "I KNOW!! It was so funny!" Tony chuckled. Their voices drowned out, as you suddenly became aware of Maria's hand sitting on your thigh. It was firm. Your eyes met her hungry gaze. Nat was also eyeing you, you found her staring at your chest.

The team went out to dinner at an expensive restaurant so you had to dress up. You decided to wear a dress that was very revealing, obviously your girlfriends could not take their eyes off of you when you were getting ready.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

They tried to touch you, but you swatted their hands away because you were trying to do your makeup. Also you guys literally had no time to mess around because the reservation was for 8pm and you had to leave in 10 minutes.

Natasha groaned when she realized you were serious. "Please detka, a quickie? I can make it fast." Nat pleated. You shook your head no. As appealing as that sounded, you needed to finish your eyeshadow.

Maria smirked when when entered the room, overhearing Nat's pleads to touch you. "Don't be so desperate dear. Our little slut will practically be begging us to fuck her by the end of the night" Maria spoke calmly.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

And that brought you to this exact moment, you were starting to think that you should've taken Nat up on her offer. You were sandwiched between the two. Nat's fingers started to make it's way onto your thigh as well. Her hand patted your thigh to spread.

You looked at her, turning red. "Cmon detka, no one is paying attention. They're engrossed in the drunken conversation of politics." Nat whispered closely to your ear, her breath tickled you.

You obliged and Maria raised an eyebrow at you, not seeing the actions of the spy. Natasha looked at her with a smirk. Maria rolled her eyes.

Nat' hand snaked between your thighs, trailing up until she met your underwear. Oh, you were soaked. She smirked and traced painfully slow circles over your underwear.

You huffed and looked at Nat with puppy dog eyes. "Y/N! What do you think?" Maria smirked, inviting you to join the conversation. You jumped, obviously not expecting that. Your legs tried to close but Maria held them open. God you looked so flustered.

"Y/N, you're turning red. Are you feeling well?" Carol asked, an ounce of concern sounded in her voice. Valkyrie pinched Carol lightly, she realized what was happening and Valkyrie noticed Carol turning a little pink herself.

"M' fine" you mumbled. They went back to their own conversation, not nothing that you, Natasha and Maria have been fairly quiet. Your head started to feel a little fuzzy.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

You looked at Maria and whined softly. "What is it bunny? Use your words." Maria said firmly. "Please, please, please" you mumbled into her ear. Her demeanor soften, "Please what honey? Can you tell me and daddy what you need?" Maria cooed. "Touch' please" you mumbled, hardly able to form sentences. "Good job at using your words, baby." Maria praised you. She wouldn't be too hard on you, knowing you're in a fuzzy headspace.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Fuck you looked so perfect, your glassy eyes was her final straw. She caved in and began to fuck you harder. Her fingers curled in you, picking up speed. You had to bite your lip to hide your moans. "You close, bunny?" Natasha whispered into your ear.

You nodded desperately. "Then come for me, be a good girl for me, angel." Natahsa gave you permission. You felt your high approaching. Maria's fingers found your clit and rub fast circles around it. Fuck, this is it. Your legs began to shake as you came down from your high.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

"You okay bunny?" Maria whispered, as both their fingers left you. You whined softly, feeling empty. "Hey guys, Y/N's forehead feels hot so we're gonna go home. You guys enjoy the dinner." Natasha spoke, helping you to feet. You clung onto both of the women. They smiled softly at your clingness. "Hope you feel better y/n" a bunch of mumbles as you guys left.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

a/n: THANK YOU ALL FOR 100 FOLLOWERS!! HOPE YOU ENOYED :)

[jay-quinox]

Vox is absolutely delighted that Alastor came to him for help after his battle with Adam 😉🩵

[amathslutsguidetofandom]

Imagine Alpine waking up you and Bucky cause she’s hungry or she just wants attention from her mommy and daddy🥰🩵🩷

Just Like Her Dad

PAIRINGS: James "Bucky" Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

WARNINGS: Extreme fluffiness (pun intended)

WORD COUNT: 364

*not proof-read*

ENJOY!

The afternoon sun shines brightly through the open blinds, indicating the day is nearly half done. Bucky and you sleep in after staying up all night to watch the entire Hobbit series.

You feel Bucky wrapping an arm around your back pulling you close, and you nudge your nose against his chest inhaling his woodsy scent. You just lay in each other's arms, wanting to soak in the presence of the other.

Suddenly, a mass jumps on the bed. Then jumps on your side, and you let out an 'oof'.

Turning around, you see Bucky's white cat, Alpine. She chews on your covers and you start to chuckle.

"Aw, hello there baby," you pick her up and cuddle her close your chest. She purrs and rubs her head against your collarbone.

Bucky clears his throat, and opens his eyes to see the view in front of him. "Mornin' Alps," he rubs her chin, and Alpine moves away from Bucky and closer to you.

You both are in shock.

"Someone has a favourite," he grumbles and rubs his eyes, trying to wipe the sleep away. You laugh and coo and the little furball. "No she doesn't," you argue playfully, adjusting the little pink bow you tied on a small clump of her fur at the top of her head last night. Bucky looks at you with a look that just says 'are you kidding me?'.

"She doesn't!" You laugh harder and your grin windes, "Buck, I'm serious she doesn't like me more." Bucky turns and lies flat on the bed as he nods sarcastically, "sure."

Alpine purrs loudly and snuggles closer to your body, Bucky laughs and raises a brow at you, "see."

You shake your head and hug the cat closer, "Alpine, do you like me or you're Daddy more?" Alpine meows and licks at your jaw, pronoucing her choice.

You gasp while Bucky laughs, "I told you, she LOVES you more."

You shake your head as you laugh with Bucky, "well it just proves one thing." Bucky looks at you curiously, reaching over and starts to play with your hair lazily, "yeah?"

You hum and nod, "she's just like her dad." You wink at him.

💌💌💌

So fucking mad at Marvel, for not including Alpine in TFATWS.

Like besties, we were ROBBED.😩😩😩

LOVE THIS ASK, ALWAYS ON DECK FOR WRITING ALPINE.

Till' then,

Stay Coquette-y,

Anya 🫶🏽🕊️🎀

[shewroteaworld]

PCOS

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

100 Follower Celebration Request: "🤨 + 'You’re braver than you think and more beautiful than you know.' "

Premise: You've been keeping a secret from your boyfriend. At the most inopportune time, it thrusts itself into the light. He doesn't have the reaction you feared.

Warnings: mentions of Criminal Minds--typical violence, mentions of nausea, discussions of chronic illness, mentions of poor self-esteem

Word count: approx. 3,000

When the unsub impaled you with the knife, you gasped awake.

You blinked open your eyes to pitch black darkness, a pulse of 200 beats per minute, a stomach frothing with queasiness, and cold skin sticky with sweat. 

Something velvety constricted your body like cling wrap. The suffocation was akin to being buried six feet under. Fortunately, the feather pillow cushioning your head and the soft foam squashed beneath your fingertips broke through your sleep-addled mind. 

It was only a nightmare. You were still laying in bed next to Aaron Hotcher.

Your breath caught, and you went rigor mortis still. Once A’s soft snoring reached you, you relaxed.

 Tiredly, you smiled at a ceiling you couldn’t see. You didn’t wake him. The last thing A needed after a horrifying case was to not only be woken before dawn but also be woken by his girlfriend gasping in terror. 

Your boyfriend of six months, Aaron, was an FBI supervisory special agent. As a civilian, there was plenty of work information to which you were not privy, especially if a case went south. Often, Aaron didn’t tell you where he flew for work. All you knew was, he’d be away for days. However, sometimes you’d know where Aaron was flying back from once the case was handled. Either, he could tell you once the target was apprehended or you found out via news report.

Based on the news reports from New Mexico that featured the BAU's media liaison, Jennifer Jareau, a cult leader ended his sadistic campaign with an AR-15 shootout and a murder-suicide that caught the state police completely off guard. The FBI caught the scent of his plan, but by the time they sniffed it out, they were 5 steps too far behind. Thankfully, Aaron nor any of his unit members died. 

Aaron returned to his DC brownstone to ceramic pans full of your best dishes— all piping hot— on his kitchen counter.  You made sure to prepare enough food to last him a couple weeks; emotionally trying work events and tons of paperwork were the perfect recipe for Aaron to not eat enough, and you weren’t going to make it easy for him. The past work weeks had been a whirlwind for you as well; you’d billed 15 plus hours every day for the past week to resuscitate a major merger on its deathbed. You set the last dirtied spoon on A’s drying rack two seconds before he unlocked his front door.   

Aaron left the details of his past case vague. He kept the details of his emotional state even vaguer. But you could tell in the extra tight grip of his hello hug that he was in need of grounding. You anchored him with a constant, comforting grip, on his calloused hands. You fed him your best mac and cheese; you even cut back on your beloved pepperjack for his spice sensitive taste buds. Later that evening, you took a soothing shower together and collapsed into bed. You broke your typical bedtime routine: instead of discussing the latest novel you’ve read or life realizations, you watched a so-bad-it's-good corporate soap and ripped it a part for its inaccuracies.  That’s when Aaron laughed for the first time since he came home. 

You were relieved you didn’t wake him. Even though food comas were “scientifically disproven,” a factoid Aaron passed on to you from his team's young genius, Doctor Spencer Reid, you hoped the welcome home dinner you made him helped sustain his deep sleep.

Your adrenal glands calmed. You closed your eyes, but, not a second later, you were rudely interrupted by a sharp pain three inches below your belly button--- right where the unsub stabbed you.

It was just a dream. With a quiet huff, you rolled onto your side and curled against Aaron’s back. 

That’s when you felt it— a tacky liquid sticking your satin pj pants to your thighs. A swell of nausea overtook you, and you feared it was not a byproduct of anxiety alone. 

Gingerly, you slid out of bed. With the nausea sliding up your esophagus and the sensation of the room spinning, it wouldn’t take Holmes to confirm the cause, but you refused to panic without irrefutable evidence.

Gently, you folded the covers back.  Not daring to turn on your phone flashlight, you tapped your home screen and raised the brightness. 

When you hovered the light over the bed sheet, deep red splotches of smeared period blood screamed against Aaron’s stark white sheets. 

Something deep and cold coiled in the pit of your stomach. You clicked your phone off. Carefully, you took a few steps back from the bed. 

Your stomach whirled. A shiver crawled up your spine. You hurriedly tiptoed across the carpet to Aaron’s ensuite. Even in your haste, you quietly shut the door behind you. As soon as the door was in its oak frame, you turned the lock.

You pulled the roots of your hair with an iron grip. Shit. Shit.

You collapsed onto the edge of Aaron’s bathtub. There was blood all over your pj bottoms. You stood in a panic. You looked back and, of course, in a matter of three seconds, you stained the white acrylic.

You went to his faucet and patted ice cold water on your cheeks. Get a grip. Stress would only make the inevitable worse. Why it was possible for your body to malfunction this severely, you’ll never understand. 

If you’d only been blessed with a normal body, one that menstruated on a timely schedule and didn’t come with a laundry list of ugly, graphic symptoms, tonight would be nothing more than a minor embarrassment.

The guilt for waking Aaron on tonight of all nights would be strong, but all you would have to do is tap him awake, apologize, and attack your blood splotches with a hydrogen peroxide–soaked cotton ball and the night would revert back to a typical night with your boyfriend.

You wished you were well enough to clean his sheets. Unfortunately, for you, it wasn't possible. You’d get even more nauseated. Or too lightheaded. You already felt sick when you woke up, which meant you were menstruating for a few hours. 

How did you not catch this? Your body at least has the decency of shooting some warning flares, and the new medication your OB/GYN prescribed three months ago was far from 100 percent effective at calming your PMS symptoms.

You ran a hand over your face and through your hair. You were two weeks early after billing unbelievable hours for that merger dispute. This was stress induced.

You forced a deep breath. You needed to find a way out of this.

Suddenly, your vision swam. With no other option, you sat on the stained portion of Aaron’s bathtub. You gripped your stomach as the pain twisted deeper into your abdomen. You hunched over yourself.

Tonight could not become Aaron’s baptism by fire into your PCOS. He was exhausted physically and emotionally. He shouldn’t have to deal with all the baggage that comes when you experience the most natural thing in the world for a woman. 

The nausea crawled up your throat, and you forcefully swallowed it back with a groan.

You put your head in your hands. You didn’t bring enough pads. Or tampons. You didn’t have any anti-emetics. What if you got a migraine? What if you fainted and A woke to what appeared to be your corpse lying on his bathroom tile? 

Your spiral was interrupted by the man in question. “Honey?” Aaron called, voice strung. 

Before you could respond, he yelled. “Honey?!” 

You stood, and Aaron’s bathroom tilted on an axis. You barely managed to stumble to the doorway.

Fumbling, you unlocked the door just as Aaron reached the it. 

His brown eyes were wide blown and wild. You'd never seen that expression on him before. “Are you okay?” He held your forearms as if he were afraid you’d crumple with too harsh a touch.

“I saw the blood and I…” He swallowed. He scanned you from head to toe repeatedly. “I thought the worst.” He whispered. Your heart fell through the pit of your stomach to the soles of your feet. 

He cupped your cheeks. “Baby, you’re really off color. I need you to talk to me. Where are you hurt?” The blood stains on the back of your pants were out of his view.

“I’m not hurt, A.” You said.

His eyebrows furrowed. “Your side of the bed is blood stained.” He said, his voice taking a sterner edge. 

“I’m on my monthly.” 

“Oh.” He released your arms. His cheeks dusted pink. “Sorry, honey, I…” He ran his hands over his bedhead. “I should’ve…I jumped to conclusions.” He sounded shocked with himself.

“You’ve had a long day.” You whispered. “Give me a minute. I’ll clean.”

Suddenly, everything went blurry. Your muscles slacked, and your forehead dropped onto Aaron’s pectoral. 

A hand was back on your forearm, this time with a tighter grip. A calloused hand tapped your cheek. “Hey. Hey. Baby. Stay with me.”

Carefully, he walked you away from the door. “Sit.” Fully supporting your back, he sat you on the floor and leaned you against the bathtub. 

As soon as your back was fully supported, his ensuite regained color. You could take a deep breath again.

Aaron knelt in front of you. “Honey,” Aaron said, his stare piercing through yours. He stroked your hair out of your face. “I need you to be honest with me. What’s wrong?”

“I told you.” More accurately, you began to tell him. 

You shivered. He pressed the back of his hand to your forehead and stroked down your cheekbone.

“I don’t have a fever.” You insisted. “It’s just my monthly.”

 He pecked your forehead. He didn’t believe you. “Is it always this bad?” He asked with a mix of concern and skepticism. 

“Yes.” You sighed. “I have polycystic ovarian syndrome.” 

“PCOS?” He asked. 

You were shocked. “You know what that is?” 

He nodded. “I’ve heard of it.” 

“It can make my time of the month super severe.” Stubborn tears leaked from your eyes. You wiped your cheeks with the cuff of your pajama shirt. 

You were supposed to be the woman who kicked ass in the boy’s club of corporate law by day and kicked ass as the perfect girlfriend by night.

He was not supposed to see you trembling before him, huddled in pain. He was not supposed to see you on the verge of throwing up from period cramps when he almost died in a hail of bullets less than twelve hours ago. He was never supposed to see how weak you truly were. 

He took over wiping your tears with his thumbs. “Scale of 1 to 10—how bad is the pain?”

“Maybe an 8?” You said. It was a 9. If you could’ve managed without your head aching, you would’ve rolled your eyes at yourself. The one thing about dating a profiler is they always know when you’re fibbing.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked. 

You sniffled. “About my condition or that I’m in pain?”

“I think those are a package deal.” He said gently.

You sighed. Your instinct was to lie, but you stopped yourself. Aaron could see right through you. He was one of the best behavioral analysts in the entire world. For the first leg of your relationship, you’d managed to avoid this confrontation which was a blessing in itself. 

“I didn’t want you to see how sick I get. How sick I am.” You toyed with the ends of your hair. “I didn’t want you to know how weak I am.” You whispered. 

His eyes softened. “Honey, you’re not weak because you have PCOS."

“There are months where I can’t even stand up.” You said, voice taught with tears.

“And that’s why I need to know." He smoothed your hair. "Have you been going through this every month by yourself?”

“Since I moved out of my mother’s place for undergrad, yeah.” You sniffled with a watery smirk. 

He wrapped an arm around your back, then hesitated. “Can I hug you?”

“Please.” You whispered

He pulled you into a hug. His hold was looser than normal, but his embrace still filled you with warmth from head to toe. 

“Darling, I love you so much.” Aaron said.  “I would never look down on you for this.”

“It’s just…I’m not used to….”

“Being this vulnerable.” Aaron finished sympathetically. 

You nod. “It’s just…I get so sick. It makes me so ugly.”

He shook his head. “Hey.” He made sure you were looking him in the eye. “You’re never ugly.”

You chuckled. “You’ll revisit that answer when you see me dry heaving at 3 in the morning.” You said, unpleasant nights resurfacing.

His lips don’t do so much as quirk upwards. Rather, he looked shattered. He squeezed your hands. “I won’t.”

“What can I do to help?” He pivoted.

“You can change the sheets.” You looked to the top corner of the ensuite door frame as more tears welled. “And go back to bed.”

“I won't ever leave you on the bathroom floor in pain, alone.”

“But you should.” You said. He cupped your cheeks with his homey hands. He gently pulled your chin back to level your gaze, but you resisted. 

“Why should I?” He asked.

“Because you’re tired. And I’m sick. And I’m broken. And there’s nothing you can do.” You make eye contact and immediately are wracked with full body sobs. 

Suddenly, every second of you’d spent building up your self-esteem went out the window as your deepest insecurities broke through. You were never supposed to be a burden to him. 

He pulled you into chest and wrapped you in his arms..“Helping you when you’re sick is never a burden. I love you so much.”

“What if you get tired of me?” What if this made him stop loving you?

“I won’t.” He promised. 

He pressed another kiss to your forehead. “We’ll return to this conversation when you’re feeling better.” He stroked your cheekbone with his thumb. “What helps? Do you have medication?”

“I have daily medication. I’m still working with my doctor to get a regimine that works.” You wiped your eyes. “Heat helps. I drink this peppermint tea to help my stomach when I’m at home.” You rambled.

“The one by that British brand?” He asked.

“Yeah.”

“When I saw their tea in your apartment, I bought some to keep here. I might have some peppermint. I’ll be back, honey.” He left you with a kiss on the cheek.

The tailoring he did to his world to accommodate you would never cease to flutter your heart.

The pleasant moment was quickly halted by your stomach bubbling. 

As A’s slippers padded down the stairs, you crawled across the tile floor over to the toilet. You forced your head between your knees.

About ten minutes later, you heard the clack of his slippers against the bathroom floor. “Nauseous?” He asked.

You nodded. 

He sat the mug close to you. “Your tea to your left within arm's reach. I’m going to grab some blankets and pillows. I’ll be right back. Shout if you need something.”

You learned by “some blankets and pillows” Aaron meant an entire blanket set. 

As you leaned your head back against the wall, Aaron began prepping your makeshift bed. In your peripheral vision, you laid pillows as floor cushioning.

“I won’t judge you if you go to sleep in bed. This gets ugly.”

“Baby, I’m an FBI agent for the BAU. Even if you threw up on me, it wouldn’t make the list of the top fifty gross things I’ve experienced by miles.” 

You scooched onto a pillow. Aaron slipped the blankets around you.

Your head found the soft crook of his neck. He pressed his head onto yours, and the pressure instantly relaxed you. Unfortunately, your your uterine muscles corkscrewed. You squirmed in pain.

Aaron shushed you. “You need to breathe. This will pass, just breathe.”

You clasped his hand like a lifeline. What feels like hours later, when the pain begins to ebb away, you pant, “It’s alright if you need to go to sleep.” Aaron already relayed his plans to go into the office on Saturday morning to attack some dense paperwork. 

He placed his free hand overtop of yours. “You will always be a priority for me. I hope I’ve shown you by now that I will always take care of you.”

You smiled into his shoulder. 

“Also, the heating pad is charging in the bedroom, and, before you ask about the sheets, they’re already in the wash.”

You sighed in happiness. “I could kiss you right now.” 

“What’s stopping you?” Gently, he pressed his lips to the top of your forehead.

You smiled again. You could count on your hand the number of times you’d smiled when you’re like this: on the bathroom floor, nauseous and dizzy.

You squeezed his knee with your free hand. “You promise you’ll stay with me?”

“Of course I’ll stay with you. I love you. And, just for the record…this may be tough, but you're not ugly and you're not weak. You're braver than you think and more beautiful than you know. I'm grateful to be the one holding you through this."

In the coming days, you’re certain you’ll have a laundry list of next steps from your boyfriend: call your doctor, check in with a dietitian, monitor stress, anything he could think of to lessen these symptoms. He’ll probably want to talk more about why you didn’t tell him sooner.

But, for now, you're both satisfied with sitting on the bathroom floor and riding this out. And in a moment where the pain could split you in pieces, you somehow felt whole. 

Author's Note: I'm happy to say the 100 follower celebration fics are finally going live!

I hope you're having a good day or night! Thanks for taking the time to read my work! And, to anyone struggling with a condition similar to the reader's: you, too, are braver than you think and more beautiful than you know!

xoxo,

shewroteaworld

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

Need me a Thomas Shelby with “you fell asleep in my arms. it was kind of adorable.” thank you and cg for 100 followers!!

Thank you so much for this request my love! I'm so sorry it's so long coming. Again, I'm studying for the bar and it is crazy with the holidays! Also, I hope you like this! Tommy is not my typical bread and butter but I wanted to give people the option! Sending all my love to you angel! - Mo

100 Follower Celebration: No Man Works Alone

Thomas Shelby x Fem!Reader, fluff

When you got connected to the middle Shelby boy, you were warned that life would never be the same. You assumed as much, knowing that their business went much farther than horse racing. You were up to the task. You had been in the Shelby orbit for years, you saw what it all took, and when Tommy made his intentions known to you, you were willing to step up and do your part in expanding the empire.

Polly joked that you were made for this life with the way that you so seamlessly came in. While the Shelby company were encroaching into higher society and government facades, they needed a pretty face to butter up old money hands. When the boys were running liquor and snow and violence, you ran sweet words and high teas with women whose husbands had deep and ancient pockets. Even before Thomas met with potential partners, they were already inclined to agree since you were just so kind and elegant looking. Surely a woman like you would never be with someone not reputable right?

But it wasn’t just the business you managed to soothe and nurture. You also added a salve to the Shelby familial wounds. Some wounds required more care than others. Some would never heal completely, but petty arguments could be solved and begin the groundwork for a more harmonious union. You had stepped in more than once to facilitate peace agreements between the Shelby siblings more than once, “Do it for the children yeah? They deserve to be able to see their cousins and aunts and uncles freely. Shelby’s need each other. And it’s Christmas for God’s sake!”

And no good deed goes unpunished it seems. Due to your expert people skills and kind face, you were put in charge of a Christmas gala for all the biggest names in the city. A dual purpose to flaunt the power of the Shelby family, and to raise funds for a women’s shelter to be built. In the same week you were planning to host Christmas dinner and Christmas morning in the home for the entire Shelby family. Everyone was coming and it was to be a beautiful affair. It’s would be wonderful save for the sheer amount of people to take care of. You had spent the day running around, only to continue into the evening, taking care of your and Tommy’s children; putting them to bed and giving them each some attention in the absence of their father.

By the time you had finished your tasks for the day, it was late, and Tommy still wasn’t finished with the ledgers and accounts. He looked exhausted, the puffiness of his eyes evident in from under his glasses. Sleeves rolled up and shirt open the quiet desire for sleep was coming off him in waves. You wrap your soft satin robe tighter around you as you gently sit next to Tommy. Without looking up from his work he says to you in a gravely voice, "You should be in bed, it's late love."

You shake your head, though you feel as though invisible fingers are dragging your eyelids down, "Mm not tired."

Tommy chuckles as he hears you attempt to stifle a yawn. He takes off his glasses to look at your faltering face. "You're not eh? You sure?"

You lean back on the comfortably expensive sofa Tommy had set up shop on, stretching out the ache in your back, "Perhaps a little. But I don't like not sleeping next to you. If you're up, I'm up. We're a team yeah?"

Tommy smiles, enamored by your insistence. It was one of the things that drew him to you the first time he saw you. Your quiet defiance. You intent to keep people together and not leave anyone behind. It was only a small fractal of how sweet and tender your heart was. Tommy leaned over to gently kiss your temple, "Alright then. If you insist Commander. I'll be done soon enough I promise."

With another poorly hidden yawn you say, "Take your time darling. I brought reading."

Just as Tommy predicted, within 15 minutes you were out like a light. Back when you all were children, it was a running joke that you would be running and playing as hard as you could one minute, and fall dead asleep on any surface the next minute. It never changed. As Tommy chuckled and picked the book off your face where it fell, he was reminded of you as a young girl. Though there were a few more marks and lines on your face now, you had the whispers of your youth still on your face. Your daughter with Tommy slept the same exact way. Mouth open slightly. Arms raised above your head. Utterly at peace. Tommy was tempted to wake you to tease you, but knew you would punish yourself for 'falling asleep on the job'. He opted to finish his paperwork instead, working diligently and quietly so as not to disturb you. Soon enough he was done and put everything away in his desk to pick up tomorrow. Pressing gentle kisses to your face, he whispers against you, "Darling, wake up. Let's go to bed eh? Get you more comfortable."

You jolted awake, nearly knocking Tommy over, "Oh God... what time is it? Are the kids ok?"

Tommy chuckled deeply, pulling you up by the arms, "No no darling. Kids are alright. You fell asleep next to me. It was a bit adorable really. You look exactly like Matilde in her crib. "

You throw yourself back down, "Oh God I fell asleep while you were working! That is not what I wanted to do! I wanted to keep you company!"

Tommy laid himself over you, pushing your arms away from your embarrassed face, "You did keep me company. Perfect company. You needed to sleep. You've been running around. Being the best mother and wife. Being the best coordinator. Being the best aunt and sister in law. Hard work my love. C'mon. Let's get to bed yeah?"

You let him kiss you and take you to bed. Sleep took you both sweetly and quickly. And in the morning you would start it all over again. Waking to your children jumping on top of you with joy, and another list of things to attend to. But as long as Tommy was next to you. It would all be worth it.

[opia-png]

oc-tober, day thirty-one: the end

[spikes-got-anger-issues]

Reached 100 textposts 🥳

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] 🎊 12 🎊 [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19]

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Fishing Interlude

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[hamlet-not-hamnet]

role reversal

[arcane-vagabond]

Ok so I just saw a TikTok about a woman who found out she was pregnant with their first child a few weeks after her husband left for deployment and she’s like 8 months pregnant now and he’s coming home from deployment finally. I was wondering about Jake in that situation. Like how would he react? I know he’s be devastated to miss most of the pregnancy and not being able to give you a hug when you guys found out. He would have been so attentive and doting during the pregnancy normally, but now he would be SUPER doting to try to make up for lost time. What do you think?

(Feel free to ignore this💕)

Pffffft as if I'd ignore this gold mine.

But like, imagine though.

You waited anxiously in the parking lot, leaning up against your car in a futile effort to ease some of the comfort. It wasn't easy being eight months pregnant. And it wasn't easy having to go through it alone while your husband had been shipped off to god only knows where just before you had found out. And it certainly wasn't easy keeping it a secret from him for that entire time.

You still weren't sure you had done the right thing by not telling him. On one hand, you hadn't wanted him to worry while he was an ocean away, and you definitely didn't want him to worry about you when he was operating a multi-ton machine thousands of feet up in the air. No, the very thought made you sick with worry of your own.

On the other hand...

You opened up the passenger side door, carefully dipping down to grab your water bottle that you had flung in the seat and some Tums for your heartburn. You had just found the bottle of Tums when a pair of strong legs stopped in your peripheral.

"Well, hi there gorgeous."

You jumped, turning to face the man beside you.

"Jake!" you cried, smiling reflexively at the sight of your husband. He beamed down at you as you straightened, tummy still hidden by the car door. Jake leaned in to plant a long, slow kiss to your lips. One turned into two. Two turned into three. Finally, you pulled away from him with a hum, and a pout settled on his lips. "Missed you, baby."

Your heart stuttered. "I missed you too," you replied, cursing at the nerves that made their way into your tone. Jake's brow furrowed.

"You okay, darlin'?" he asked. You shifted your weight as you tried to figure out the best way to tell him. Before you could, Jake rounded the door, stopping when he finally took in your full form. His eyes widened, and his jaw nearly fell to the ground. "What?" he trailed off.

"I wanted to tell you," you rushed out, feeling tears prickle at your eyes. Damn hormones. "I just didn't know how, and it didn't seem like the kind of thing you say over the phone, and I didn't want to worry you, and it's not like you could just up and leave, and-"

Jake didn't seem to be paying attention to your rambling as he stared down your stomach, his gaze full of quiet awe. Slowly, he reached a hand out to place it on your stomach.

"We're having a baby?" he asked quietly. You felt the tears roll down your cheeks before you could stop them.

"Yes," you sobbed. "Oh, Jake. I'm so sorry."

That caught his attention. His eyes snapped up to meet yours. A confused frown tugging at his lips. "What on earth do you have to be sorry for, sweetheart?"

"I should have told you before now," you cried. Jake shook his head, reaching up to cradle your head to his chest as much as your stomach would allow.

"None of that, mama," he cooed, rocking you gently from side to side. "It's me who should be sorry for leaving you here to do this all by yourself."

"It's not like you had a choice," you muttered, nuzzling into his chest. Jake ran a soothing hand over your hair.

"Doesn't matter now," he hummed, pulling away just far enough to see you. "I'm here, and I plan on making up for lost time. Now, let's get home so I can pamper and spoil my beautiful wife that's carrying my baby."

Jake helped you into the passenger seat, making sure you were buckled in securely before jogging over to the other side.

"Is it a boy or a girl?" he asked excitedly as he drove the speed limit home, something completely out of character for your husband.

"A boy," you smiled, rubbing your stomach affectionately.

Jake grinned. "A boy," he breathed with a shake of his head. You were sure his cheeks were sore from how hard he was smiling. "Have you decided on a name?"

You shook your head. "Wanted to wait until you came home so we could decide together."

"What about Jake Junior?"

"Absolutely not," you snort. Jake's smile never faltered as he let out a chuckle.

"That's okay, mama. I've still got a whole month to get you to come around."

[sunniiiiii]

100 followers already?!?? Ty for the attention! Im very grateful!!! I hope you enjoy the upcoming art in the future and that I have a fun time engaging with other artists and everyone else!!!!

Little chibi dude for u guys🫶

[denalilily]

Hey! Congrats on 100 followers! 🩵 How about a meme with Garrett to celebrate?

[iknkeli]

EEP!!! TY GUYS!?!??

A promise is a promise after all.

Killer belongs to Rahafwabas

[rib-rabbitmask]

100 followers....

💥💖💥100 FOLLOWERSSS 💥💖💥

KANAJHSKEAKSJSKSJKA THANK YOU! THANK SO, SO, SO MUCH! 😭💖 IDK WHAT TO SAY OR DO- IDK HOW TO EXPRESS MYSELF RN BUT THANK YOU, THANK YOU A BILLION OF TIMES!

I would be nothing without y'all, YOU who is always here seeing my art or my vents or struggles, about Undertale things or personal things. YOU who always helping me rebloging, commenting/interacting and liking my posts... ALL OF YOU.

THANK YOU, I LOVE ALL OF YOU! 🥺💖

And as a thing to celebrate... Here's a spoiler of a little thing i working on to post in my YT Channel... Enjoy! 👀 :

.

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

Mooooo ! I love you so much bby 💕 my I request one with Alfie with the touch starved prompts “you never have to earn my affection-not now, not ever” and “I’m never more at peace than when I’m in yours arms”? Thank you lovely❤️❤️

My baby girl!!!!!!! Ugh thank you so much for sending this in. Did my heart ache writing this? Yes. Did my stomach hurt? Also yes. Am I sorry for it? NO. WE DO NOT APOLOGIZE FOR EMO HOURS IN THIS HOUSE. Hehehe Anyway I love ya so much I hope you enjoyyyyyy.

100 Follower Celebration: Your Love is Enough

Alfie Solomons x Fem!Reader

There were many perks that came with being Alfie's woman. While there was certainly a good deal of danger lurking around, there was an undeniable air of safety you had due to all the eyes watching. You got access to all the hot goings on around the city. You lived comfortably. And above all, you got to love Alfie Solomons fully and purely and unabashed. There was only one downside really... the talk.

It was no secret that you were significantly younger than Alfie. It was something you and Alfie never shied away from and didn't feel a need to. Regardless of any age difference, you and Alfie understood each other on a cosmic level, a way no one else could. You loved him with your whole heart and soul and Alfie would burn down the world if you asked him to. You were one. And anyone who truly knew you and Alfie knew that this was true love. That this was the type of love and devotion that epics were written about and empires crumbled over. But there were always going to be people who didn't know. Always going to be people who didn't understand.

You were perusing fabric patterns in the shop down the street one early afternoon, looking for the final pattern to add to a quilt you were making for Ollie's soon to be born first child. You delicately touched the cotton blends along an aisle, imagining how it would look along the squares you had already picked, taking mental note as to what was available.

"I just cannot imagine what he sees in her. I mean... she is a child isn't she?"

Your ears perked up to the tone. It was Mrs. Vorsed from down the corner, the one you waved to every morning without even a smile in return. Another voice responded, "You know how men are. They just want a little toy to play house with until they find a wife."

Who on earth could they be talking about?

"Mr. Solomons needs a real woman in his home. My Portia knows what it means to be a lady of the house, and knows her place. I mean that girl he is shacked up with... I can hear her shouts and laughter from down the street! What does she know about keeping a home, much less keeping a man?"

A snicker erupts, "Well I'm sure she won't last long. He'll tire of her eventually when he realizes what he truly needs. Then Portia can swoop right in!"

The cackles fade away with the sharp chops of heavy footed steps. Despite your efforts, the knot in your throat never went down. You lungs refused to take in breath as the words spun in your mind. How could they say those things so confidently? They didn't even know you. They never even stepped foot into the house, how could they know how you keep it? Alfie never said more than a good morning to Mrs. Vorsed. How could they know anything about you or Alfie? Yet their words kept spinning and spooling around in your mind. What if... what if they were right?? What if people saw something that you couldn't see? What if you had deluded yourself into thinking that Alfie was truly happy and in love with you? What if he was unhappy but didn't want to tell you out of duty. It all became too much in your chest, and you left the store without your fabric, but the weight of the world on your chest.

That evening Alfie could not wait to get home to you. Every evening Alfie nearly buzzed at the prospect of coming home to see your face again, and wrap himself around you, getting as close as possible. You made his day better. You made his life brighter and joyful and meaningful. It made all the business and badness worth it. Stepping through the threshold with a press to the mezuzah, Alfie calls out, "Sweet girl! I'm home! You in the kitchen darling?"

He hears you call back and smiles wide, stomach growling hungry for supper and you. Taking off his coat and hat he ambles into the kitchen, watching you stir something magical in the massive soup pot. "My dove ,my angel, my joy, what are you doing? Making food for the Royal Navy are we?"

You turn to him, and he can clearly see that something is wrong. Your lips are quivering and poorly attempting to portray a smile, and your eyes are glassy and red rimmed. He feels a stab in his chest, "Now wait a minute treacle... what's got you crying?"

You wiped your cheek and turned away, "I'm not crying."

With a scoff he grabs your chin gently, turning you to face him, "I thought we didn't lie to each other my sweet. Especially since you're the worst liar since the Garden of Eden. Why are you crying? Come on now confess."

You shrugged as Alfie's hands moved up and down your arms, "It's nothing. Stupid really I shouldn't be crying."

"Nah nah. It ain't stupid if it's got my sweet girl crying like that. Out with it."

The tears kept falling, though you tried to keep an even tone, "I just... I heard some women talking. Mrs. Vorsed and another lady."

Alfie rolled his eyes, "Always a bad sign. C'mon what else."

You sniffled, "And... well... they said that... I wasn't good enough for you. That I didn't know how to be a good woman to you. And that you would be better off with someone else. That you would soon grow tired of me. That I'm not deserving of you, and Portia Vorsed would be a better match for you."

The tears started coming harder, and you couldn't help the shaking of your body. Alfie's stomach dropped, and rage replaced it. Alfie shook your shoulders a bit in his passion, "What the fuck is wrong with them? Treacle, Mrs. Vorsed is the worst gossip in Camden, and doesn't know anything about anything. She hasn't got anything better to do but talk absolute shit. Portia, right? She is the silliest woman in town, she can't even do basic arithmetic because she's too busy being an idiot. I mean fuck me treacle I can barely say good morning to Mrs. Vorsed without getting proper fucking agitated!"

Alfie kissed your forehead and brought you to his chest, "YOU are the one for me. I don't give a shit what Mrs. Vorsed or what any other decrepit woman or idiot man thinks. You are my life. You are my stars and my moon and my sun alright? You don't have to be 'good enough' for me. Fuck you just are. You never have to earn my love. You've always had it. Even before I knew you my old and brittle heart was yours. You got that?"

You nodded, the tears pooling in his shirt. Alfie pulled you away from him to look into your eyes. "And treacle I don't even think Mrs. Vorsed can see more than a meter in front of her so she probably has no clue who she is talking about."

You laughed despite the tears and Alfie grinned. All he wanted to do every day was to make you smile. He was convinced that was what he was put on this earth to do. You put your hand to his face, feeling him lean into the warmth of your palm. "I just want to love you and care for you like you do me. I just worry that I don't do enough sometimes."

He grabbed your hand, kissing your fingertips, "Ah my sweet. I'm never more at peace than when I'm in your arms. I'm never more at home than when you're next to me. The whole business could go to shit and I'd still be the richest man in the world because I have the greatest treasure in you. And I mean that my love. You believe your old man right?"

You nod. The lump in your throat finally dissapated and the weight melted away. There was truly no love like Alfie's and yours. People could talk all they want. People could make any assumptions they wanted. That didn't change what was true. And what was true was that you and Alfie belonged to each other and would for all of eternity.