#i collapsed the reblogs she was getting a lil long x

[a-ikuoliver]

thank u mickey for the tag!!!!

called out for my sticky fingers LMAOOO

npt: @aquadenks @t-tomuras @cottoncalicoes @rottiens + anyone who sees this !! <3

Making a chain cause why not!? Hdisiwisjs

Put your name/nickname in the Character Headcanon Generator and see what you get!

Link!

Erm...so-

@starsinthenigth @mxnaceo @duckp0t + Anyone who wants to do it! (No pressure)

[foxtophat]

(still trying to figure out how i link these but whatever)

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!!!! i decided to just sit down and hammer out the last edits for this lil one-shot so i could get it out today!

i’m gonna be real with you: the only reason i wrote this fic is because i couldn’t get the idea out of my head.  you weren’t supposed to see mercyverse for another month, honestly!!! but it’s been cold as fuck here and it’s made me fantasize about classic bed-sharing tropes, and so here we are!

this is a bit of a slice of life, to sort of give an idea of how day-to-day these guys all interact, especially now that carmina doesn’t have to pretend john doesn’t exist.  plus, i’m starting to see how the caches might be involved in the overarching plot???? awesome!!!

as usual, the full text is below the cut for my friends who don’t wanna leave tumblr.  i hope you enjoy -- feel free to leave a comment, i loooove hearing from readers. likes and reblogs are also great! kudos are fantastic! adding to the hit counter is just fine by me!!! anything you do to show support for fanfic is a good thing imo.  i hope y’all have a happy wintereenmas or whatever and i will see you guys in 2021 with more mercyverse :)

The best thing Nick can say about the blizzard currently sweeping the county is that he could see that it was coming. They'd gotten almost a foot of snow the night before, which gets him worried about getting snowed in, and as the day progresses, the sky grows an ominous gray that Nick recognizes from a lifetime of living in the area. He knows that they probably only have a few hours left before they're going to want to get inside and avoid the worst a winter storm has to offer.

Nick and John spend the entire morning hauling wood into the house, while Kim does her best to clean out the broken chimney and ensure they won't die of smoke inhalation. They also pull in some pre-made stock that Kim had left in the freezer after it had gotten cold enough to use, as well as a few smaller pieces for miscellaneous projects. But with the storm rolling in overhead, they don't have long; they end up leaving a lot of things for later as the wind whips up around them and turns the snow sideways.

By two in the afternoon, they've closed the doors to officially bunker down for the rest of the blizzard. They have enough wood to last them three days, plus their military rations and plenty of coffee, so Nick isn't particularly concerned about their safety. The only thing he's really got to contend with is boredom, which is easier to stave off in the first few hours of captivity than it is later in the evening.

For the most part, Nick passes the time by sharpening their knives, cleaning their guns, and checking the radio every hour for any emergencies. The blizzard ensures that not many people are on, but at least he gets to check in with Jerome and make sure that Grace is safely in her bunker. It's unlikely they'll get in contact with the trailer park until after the worst passes, but that just means Nick's gonna worry about those jackasses all night.

Kim is probably the only one comfortable with the downtime, making the most of things as she chews on the radio's instructions. When the technical jargon gets to be too much, she switches to entertaining Carmina, who gets bored quick when her only job is to keep the fire going. The easiest distraction comes from card games; the deck they'd had in the bunker had shrunk to only 32 cards, but now that they've got a full deck to work with, Carmina is eager to relearn and master games like Go Fish and Old Maid. Nick doubts Jacob planned to be entertaining kids with his survival gear, but it's not like the guy's gonna complain.

Carmina isn't the only one that Jacob is keeping busy beyond the grave. Ever since they found that cache of his, John has been borderline obsessed with figuring out what the point of it could be. He'll go all day without mentioning the puzzle plaguing him, but any available downtime has him staring at the map and its coordinates. Nick and Kim have both been keeping an eye on it, just in case it turns into something worse than his usual tunnel-vision, but so far it hasn't gotten out of hand. If anything, John seems more aware and alert now that he has something to focus on, and now Nick can even pretend he's a normal guy for conversations at a time before being reminded otherwise.

Of course, the blizzard's making it impossible to find alternate distractions. John does spend part of the afternoon in his room, but eventually, he can't help but come downstairs to mull over the map. There's only one problem with that — they've hung the map up in the radio room, so there's about ten minutes every hour where Nick has no choice but to sit in John's presence. It probably wouldn't bother him so much if there was somewhere else either of them could be, but they're stuck for the foreseeable future. John's looming is just going to be part of Nick's life until the storm passes.

In the interest of keeping the peace, Nick reluctantly tries to have the same level of interest in the random dots that John shows. His attention, however, is distracted by the penciled-in changes that he, Kim and John have all been making to the landscape. The river's wider in some places now, and there are doodles of trees in spaces that were once open fields. A few X's mark places where bridges have collapsed, and Kim's circled anywhere they've made radio contact with. Their notations have scattered across the valley, and have even spread over to the river region thanks to Hurk and his raider gang, but they still don't know anything about the mountains, or even the spaces that are supposedly occupied by bow-wielding religious nutjobs. It's going to be a while before any of them get the nerve to go poking that particular hornet's nest.

John has his little notebook open, but he's not writing anything down. Nick's not sure what he would even put down, since they haven't gotten any more leads since early autumn, but he's always got the thing tucked in a pocket nowadays. Maybe Nick should be mad he outright stole that resource from the rest of them, but — well, come on. He can't yell at the man for taking up journaling, not without flying in the face of every therapist Nick had pretended not to listen to. It's just... well, what the hell is there for him to write down?

"Are you staring for any particular reason?" John asks, because of course he does.

"That's rich, coming from the guy lurking over my shoulder all day." Nick flips off the static-ridden radio frequency, leaning back in his chair so that he can get a better look at the map push-pinned to the wall. "I hear if you look at it just right, you can see a sailboat."

John's clearly not much of a Kevin Smith fan, because he only sighs heavily at Nick's flat joke. "If you have something better for me to be doing, I'm all ears," he says, revealing to Nick at last just how bored he really is. Weirdly enough, being in the same boat as John is somehow reassuring.

"Okay, fine. At least tell me what you're staring at, so I know what to fake interest in."

Even though it's mostly a joke, it lands softly enough that John doesn't take offense. Stuffing the notebook in his back pocket, he shakes his head, gesturing at the map. Getting John to explain himself is usually like pulling teeth, but right now he seems relieved to have someone to bounce his thoughts off of. It's a long way away from the guy Nick remembers saving, enough so that it almost catches his full interest.

"It's nothing in particular, really. I've already spent hours staring at this thing, but I'm... still looking for a pattern, I guess. Jacob was paranoid and secretive, but if there's a hidden code buried in these coordinates, it's beyond me to see it. And the snow was already keeping us from traveling too far — now with this blizzard, we're likely stuck with no new information until spring ..."

John sighs, rubbing his forehead as the pretense finally abandons him. "I just don't know what I'm supposed to do until then."

That's certainly a feeling that Nick can relate to. Nick is less of a workaholic than John might be, but that doesn't mean he won't go stir-crazy without his own set of chores. Hell, that's why he's been hanging around the radio in between games of cards with the girls and cleaning whatever he can get his hands on. It must suck extra for John; the guy's been spinning his tires in the dirt for years, probably, and being this close to having a purpose beyond doing whatever chores Nick sets him to must be irritating.

Nick props one leg up against the wall, tapping his boot against the wood as he ponders the dots scattered around the map. There are a few still in the valley, but there's no driving until they thaw out. The points in the mountains are probably inaccessible to anybody, and who knows when they'll get to investigate the old vet center or find the Wolf's Den. There are a couple points nearer the trailer park, though, and not for the first time Nick tries to measure the distance from Hurk to the various red dots. There's one near the lumber mill, and one near where that godawful statue was, and of course one right smack dab in the middle of the original Peggy compound.

Nick can't imagine his truck making it all the way there and back, not without more information about the roads. Hurk might not have the same trouble. "I could send the trailer park a couple coordinates," he points out. "They might get to search before us, and it could cut the work in half."

Despite John's scowl, he only sounds tired as he replies, "I've considered it, but I don't trust them. Then again, I hardly trust myself, so who knows."

"I guess you're shit outta luck, then," Nick says. John takes obvious offense at Nick brushing him off, but hey, what else is Nick supposed to do? "God's giving you a freebie with this blizzard. Maybe you should try catching up on your sleep, or something."

"And ruin the precarious schedule I'm keeping?"

"Jesus, then go read a book! Just — you know, quit hovering over me all day. Don't you know how to entertain yourself?"

John seems unphased by Nick's half-hearted outburst. "This is how I entertain myself. Maps, resources, legal documents — that's probably the only decent outlet I've ever had." He stares at Nick's boot, unwilling to meet his eyes. "At least, it's the only one healthy enough to keep."

That is probably a safe bet, Nick realizes, quickly trying to backpedal away from the open scab that is John's history. "Uh, well, what about before the cult?"

John surprises them both with a brief laugh. "If I could source some coke, then yes, I would be entertained."

"Jesus, John."

"I'm not known for my healthy self-care habits," John points out, a little too smug to be truly self-deprecating. At least he seems to understand what Nick had been getting at originally, deferring with a vague hand-wave. "Is my loitering in the kitchen going to be too smothering for you, too, or is that okay?"

Nick rolls his eyes, flipping the radio back on to scan the channels once again. "It's fine, whatever. Just as long as you've got something better to entertain yourself than snaking the whiskey Jacob left."

"I'm more of a gin guy," John admits.

"Of course you are."

It's still a relief, though, knowing they aren't keeping an alcoholic too near his fix. On top of that, John's relaxed disregard for his past vices settles nerves Nick hadn't even realized were rattled. Sure, there's probably a whole other box of American Psycho- esque worms waiting to be opened up from John's time before Eden's Gate, but at least he seems to have comfortably packed that part of his life away for now. Unlike talking about the cult, John has no trouble dropping the conversation, just as casually as he'd brought it up. He retreats into the kitchen to mull over whatever he's written down already, leaving behind no traumatic story or sad-eyed stare — just the casual admission that he would really like to do some drugs.

Weirdly enough, that is probably the most respectable thing about John to date.

Nick spends another fifteen minutes checking the radio, scanning the channels he knows people use most. He winds up with nothing to show for it — either the storm is making radio communication impossible, or everybody else has given up on their radios. It's only after he's cleared the range twice that he flips the radio off and escapes back to Kim and Carmina, leaving John in the kitchen with a broad, somehow-sarcastic gesture towards the now unoccupied radio nook.

Carmina ropes Nick into a game of Go Fish, which Kim seems keen on losing. Nick isn't surprised — Carmina is a wily player, which is to say that she tries to bluff her way through hands with all the grace of a sledgehammer. Kim's not as willing to put up with cheating as Nick is, but neither of them are capable of even pretending to believe Carmina's poker face. It's going to be a problem one day, but Nick isn't exactly ready to teach his daughter how to lie to his face.

Well, that is until she and Nick are on their third round of Go Fish, and Nick has had to pretend not to see through all of Carmina's gambits.

He asks her if she has any threes, and she scrunches her nose up as she glances meaningfully at her cards. "Go fish," she says, making Nick regret not having Kim sit right behind their daughter as a referee.

"Fine," he grumbles, "If you say so."

Kim blinks skeptically at the pants she's fixing, but she doesn't offer Nick any out. If it weren't for his clumsy hands, maybe he could use darning socks and patching shirts as an excuse to quit playing, but as it stands, the only thing he has other than getting trounced is staring at the map with John. And since he already tried that and found it to be mildly aggravating at best...

"You know, this would be more fun with more people," Nick says, desperately glancing at Kim.

Kim, of course, gives him no quarter. "Why don't you ask John," she suggests rhetorically.

"John," Carmina calls out, "Do you wanna play Go Fish?"

Nick opens his mouth to chastise Carmina, but he realizes there's nothing to discipline her for. Especially not when John flippantly replies, "I think your father's looking to play with fewer cheaters, not more."

"I'm not cheating!" Carmina exclaims, not-so-surreptitiously pressing her cards into her lap to ensure nobody's looking at them. Between that and her guiltily furrowed brow, there's no hiding it. Her poker face needs a lot of work.

"Go Fish isn't even worth cheating at," Nick sighs, gesturing for her cards. "If that's the way you wanna play, at least do it the right way. Here, gimme your cards — John, come over here so I can teach my daughter how to lie to your face."

As if playing a game of cards with John wasn't enough to excite Carmina, she's doubly over the moon when he tells her the rules. After all, a ten-year-old girl is the prime demographic for the game Bullshit, especially when she's given carte blanche to shout cuss words at her dad. On top of that, it seems like bluffing really is half of the fun for his daughter — which is a little intimidating, sure, but at least he knows she's smart enough to understand the utility of lying.

John is... unenthusiastic, to say the least, but that only makes the prospect of humiliating him that much better. A few weeks ago, Nick would've thought John was too fragile to be messed with, but now there's a bounce in his step that will make taking him down easier. He's got to do something to remind himself that this nearly-tolerable man is usually a miserable sonofabitch.

Unfortunately, John has a fantastic poker face. Nick figured that from the get-go, but it's still daunting to play against a bored, uninterested party. That's probably why Carmina avoids John in favor of hounding Nick, calling out "bullshit!" with delightful glee whenever she thinks Nick has dropped the wrong face card or played a nine instead of a King. On the one hand, Nick appreciates that he can read her as well as she can, but on the other hand, he'd really like a chance to beat John. So far, he's the only one who's called John out, and all he has to show for it is the extra six cards in his hand.

Although Kim is on standby for this round, she keeps flashing Nick amused grins whenever Carmina calls bullshit. Nick almost hopes John can hold it together to be mundane for two entire rounds of cards because he wouldn't stand a chance against Kim.

Case in point, John lays down two cards that are meant to be threes, and Kim clicks her tongue disapprovingly. Carmina frowns up at her mom, who only shrugs and suggests, "I would call him out, if I were you."

John's neutral frown doesn't change. "Last I checked, you weren't playing," he says.

Kim only shrugs in response. Nick furrows his brow at Kim while Carmina squints suspiciously from the discard pile to John and then back again. Of course, encouraging a ten-year-old to swear is always going to win out, and so Carmina wrinkles her nose and calls John out with a slightly uncertain, "Okay, bullshit."

Without so much as a grimace of defeat, John lets Carmina flip his played cards — one three, and one dirty, rotten, lying, bullshit seven .

"That's what I thought," Kim says, flippantly triumphant. "Guess you're not as hard to read as you thought."

Nick sure can't tell what John's thinking as he lifts one shoulder noncommittally. "I stand corrected."

"Wait," Nick asks, "What gave it away?"

"I'm not helping you too , Nick," Kim laughs. "That wouldn't be fair."

"It's not exactly fair to help Carmina," John points out. Nick bets he's just as interested in what tell Kim noticed, although he manages to be less obvious about it. At least he can't crack Kim's smug smile any better than Nick, which is some small compensation.

Nick manages to win this hand, if only because his play strategy involves lying as little as possible. That seems to work against Carmina no problem, but Nick suspects John threw the game out of personal disinterest. If it weren't for the howling winds whistling through the roof and second story, John would probably excuse himself from another hand by retreating upstairs, but as it is he manages to sit through one more round of cards, this time with Kim joining in.

Carmina's poker-face doesn't improve by leaps and bounds, exactly, but she manages to fool Nick into picking up a fat stack of cards, so that's something. Too bad he'd been trying to teach her to lie to John , not her parents. Well — at least she's a nice enough kid to only do it for fun. He hopes, anyway.

Kim makes John's loss look more organic, at least, and she doesn't rub it in too badly when she wins. It's extra kind of her considering Nick is the one who called her last play bullshit, leaving him to rot in miserable third place after both his girls. Well, fine . At least Carmina seemed to have fun, even if Nick is now sitting with nearly half a deck in his hands. If the blizzard keeps up for too long, they might have to graduate to poker.

Before they can play any more card games, though, they take time out for dinner. It's almost normal, sitting around the fireplace with their military rations and some hot broth — if they were eating Marie Calendar pot-pies and watching Christmas movies, Nick would even be able to ignore John's presence sticking out like a sore thumb.

The next best thing to watching movies is talking about them, which has become something of a tradition between the Ryes. It all started in the bunker, where Kim and Nick ran out of normal Christmas stories and began taking turns narrating whatever holiday movies they could remember. They've run through all the memorable Rankin & Bass flicks, as well as a couple more contemporary ones, so they're starting to reach for their personal favorites or the very bottom of the barrel plots.

Nick intends to be paying Jingle All the Way a tribute tonight, but as soon as he mentions that the Arnold Schwarzenegger vehicle is one of his favorites, he's interrupted by John snorting derisively.

"Let me guess," Nick snaps, "You're one of those jackasses who pretends Die Hard is a legitimate Christmas movie just so he doesn't have to watch good, family-friendly content."

"It is a legitimate Christmas movie," John responds, just petulantly enough to tell Nick he hit the nail on the head.

"Look, Kim and I have already had this discussion — just because it takes place during Christmas doesn't make it a Christmas movie . Set dressing alone isn't enough!"

John raises his eyes towards the ceiling, which is as subtle as his eyerolls can get. "Whatever you say, Nick."

"What's Die Hard about?" Carmina asks, excitedly guessing, "Does Santa get to shoot people in it?"

"That would be a good Christmas movie," Nick replies. "No, it's just about some guy who has to fight bad guys in a building."

"During Christmas," Kim points out.

"Okay, fine during Christmas. But nobody's dressed up like Santa, nobody sings any carols, and there sure as hell isn't any Christmas magic that saves the day, so it doesn't count!"

"So what does happen?" Carmina asks.

Damn it — Nick should have known that talking about an action flick would immediately disinterest her towards any sloppy story about consumerism. She doesn't even know what a mall is — but she knows how to shoot a handgun, and now that Nick's thinking about it, she might need to use the duct-tape shoulder holster trick one day. It would be pretty bad-ass if she knew how, anyway.

"Okay, fine, I'll do it real quick. I don't remember all the parts, so Kim, you gotta help."

Real quick turns out to take almost as much time as the movie itself had. Kim interjects whenever Nick forgets a plot point, but at least he remembers the core conflict. Sort of, anyway — by the time he's done recounting John McClane's tale, John looks visibly dissatisfied, and Kim has a "well, sort of" expression on her face that implies he didn't quite nail the execution. Well, who cares what they think? All that matters is that Carmina is entertained, and of course she is. After all, narrated or not, it's still Die Hard . Just so long as she doesn't ask about the sequels, they should be okay.

The wind is still whipping overhead, and Nick can see nothing beyond the windows. There's no telling how late it's gotten. Although his internal clock insists it can't have been that long since sundown, Carmina has been yawning for a while now, and the fire's gone down again. It looks like sleeping through the storm is the only pastime left for Nick to try.

Carmina takes over stoking the fire for the final time before bed, while Kim makes her way upstairs to gather as much of their bedding as she can carry. John follows reluctantly behind, clearly unhappy with the prospect of facing his own cold room, but Nick figures he can deal for five damn minutes. For his part, Nick busies himself checking the radio one last time, just in case there's an emergency. He doesn't know what they'd be able to do if there was one, but that doesn't stop him from checking anyway.

With the radio situated just under the stairs, it's easy to listen in to Kim stomping around in the room above, desperate to keep her temperature up. Nick had put off too many attic repairs before this winter — he's going to have to make up for that in spring, when he and John can worm their way into the rafters and ensure that their next winter won't turn the bedrooms into a cold wasteland. Of course, even if they did patch up the gaps in the floorboards and do their best to insulate the attic, not much can beat a genuine fire in the middle of a snowstorm.

Nick isn't even paying attention to the radio, so he flips it off and trusts that everyone can keep themselves safe for another night. He hears the whump of fabric as Kim tosses their two biggest, least moldy blankets down for Carmina to start with, and the creak of footsteps on the landing overhead. Kim's voice isn't raised, but it carries down to Nick clear as a bell.

"John, you'll freeze if you stay up here," she says. "Get your stuff and come downstairs."

"It's not that cold," John says, attempting to deflect from one weak excuse with another. "I doubt Nick approved that suggestion."

Well, not technically, no, but Nick had sort of assumed they were already all on the same page. What does John think Nick's gonna do, force him to freeze upstairs so he can hog the fireplace all to himself?

Kim doesn't give the excuses a chance to breathe, replying with parental exasperation. "He and I both agree it's too cold to sleep upstairs." Nick can hear the teasing plain as day when she adds, "Just don't be weird about it."

Sure enough, suggesting John might be making things awkward is enough to get him to shut up and follow orders. Nick briefly longs for the days when John would mutely nod and do as told without any additional goading, but only for a second. Even that is long enough retrospection to remind Nick of how creepy and genuinely alarming it had been. Sure, John might get argumentative or exasperated now, but at least there's an actual person to communicate with. Nick might want to kick his ass more now than before, but he absolutely hated dealing with the hollow-eyed monster John had been.

Besides, it's way more satisfying being a dick to him now that he actually gets offended.

Despite John's furrowed-brow glares, Nick doesn't comment whatsoever on him trailing downstairs after Kim, clutching two actual blankets and a tarp that's weather-worn enough to pass muster. He stands and waits for someone to point him in the right direction as Kim and Carmina do their best to bundle together a soft place on the floor, but Nick studiously ignores him until he makes a decision himself. John takes a spot close to the fireplace, off to the right of where the girls are setting up. It's still plenty removed enough, so that nobody will get the wrong idea and think John is supposed to be welcome down here. Nick wonders who he's trying to convince, but there are so many damn demons in the man's head, it's anybody's guess.

With the fire roaring for the last time that night, all the blankets arranged and everybody looking exhausted despite not doing anything all day, Nick finally gets to crawl into bed and put this whole goddamn blizzard behind him. Hopefully, the weather has the common sense to clear up tomorrow — for now, it's time to shut out the cold entirely.

He must be tired. Nick barely stays conscious as Kim and Carmina climb under the blankets, the cool air rapidly warming as they begin to shift around and get comfortable. He rouses a few times at first as Carmina kicks his leg and Kim bumps into him, but eventually, he finds himself dozing in the silence of a quiet house. Far above them, the wind is whipping through the attic, but from down here, it sounds like a generic white-noise machine; coupled with the crackling fire, Nick is lulled to sleep by the sounds of peaceful normalcy.

Who knows how long it is before Nick finds himself conscious again. Even then, he only wakes enough to hear the dying fire popping by his feet. Maybe he should stoke it. But that would mean moving, and Nick is weighted down on either side beneath warm blankets, so that's a hard no. He tries first to roll towards Kim and Carmina, ready to curl into a ball and conserve even more heat, but his right arm is stuck. It takes a few bleary-eyed blinks to realize what's pinned him down, but he's barely coherent enough to make sense of it.

Sometime in the night, John must've migrated from the no-man's-land he'd made for himself towards the Rye's pile of blankets. Unsurprising, really — but more than a little awkward, given how he's pressed into Nick's side, pinning Nick's arm in place. Worse yet, half of his blankets have been absorbed into the mess that Nick's been using to keep warm, which is going to make extracting himself tricky if not impossible.

While he tries to figure out how to avoid making this mortifying situation worse, Nick watches John for any signs of consciousness. The guy usually sleeps light, but Nick watches his breathing for a solid minute and doesn't catch anything. Either his poker-face is just that good, or John is actually asleep. Deeply, peacefully asleep. Nick had assumed that was impossible.

If Nick were a better person, he'd probably be thankful to see it. Glad to know that John's insomnia might finally be coming to an end. But Nick is mostly just an exhausted, anxious mess, and now he's just wondering how to get out of the situation he's found himself in.

John shifts, and like a guilty ten-year-old, Nick immediately closes his eyes and pretends to be asleep. If he's lucky, John will roll away of his own volition, or at least move enough to let Nick roll over himself. If only he'd decided to sleep on Kim's side — she wouldn't have the same trouble Nick has. She'd just kick him away and be done with it.

Slowly, John moves away from Nick. The relief is short-lived as John pulls back the covers enough to send a cold chill down Nick's side; it's a split-second decision that John immediately regrets, hissing under his breath and letting the blankets fall back into place as he recoils from the freezing temperatures.

Nick can't help his quiet huff of amusement — which is enough to break the illusion that he'd been asleep in the first place. He could probably still fake it, but if he does, John will definitely try to move his blankets, and that is going to be a much bigger problem than tolerating John in his personal space.

"Quit squirming so much," Nick mutters. "Gonna let in the cold."

John is silent and tense beside him, but he does stop squirming. It's like lying near a tense bar of iron. After a brief struggle to figure out what to say, John's embarrassment catches in his voice as he apologizes. "I'm sorry," he rasps. "I — must have been tired."

Nick sighs. "Just don't crush my arm again."

Even though John moves as though Nick threatened him, he stops short of retreating from the blankets entirely. Nick can only imagine how cold it must be — every breath of his that makes it above the blanket-line comes with a faint puff of visible air. No matter how humiliating it might be to cuddle up to Nick, it doesn't seem like John had much of a choice in the matter.

Before John can decide to try escaping again, Nick repeats, "Whatever you do, don't let in the cold."

In for a penny, Nick decides, worming deeper into the makeshift bed so that John can have more room. Rolling over is the easiest way to avoid the mortifying process of finding a comfortable sleeping arrangement. Eventually, they wind up back-to-back; Nick normally wouldn't be able to stand John touching him, but the additional body-heat does a lot to soothe Nick's reservations. Who knew all he needed to tolerate John's physical presence would be cold weather and exhaustion?

The Deputy, probably, which only makes Nick grin in tired relief. At least they would be glad to know that Nick's grown as a person. They'd probably be glad to learn he's finally gotten on-board with not murdering the Seeds in cold blood — even if it took an apocalypse to get there. If they could see the shit he's gotten himself into now, they'd probably...

He sighs. It must be a heavier sound than he imagined, because John whispers, "What?"

"Nothing," Nick says immediately, as default an answer as John's yeses are. But that's not fair, he doesn't think, because they never let John get away with his obvious deflections. As late as it is, it's easy to blame his guilt on his exhaustion. "Just thinking about Rook," he admits.

"Oh."

John is clearly uncomfortable with the topic, but he doesn't react when Nick continues sleepily, "They'd get a kick outta this, is all."

John hums. It's a quiet noise, but Nick can feel it vibrate through John's shirt. If there are two people Nick hates bringing Rook up around, it's Sharky and John. Sure, Sharky's crush was the one that was reciprocated, but Dep had always treated John's flat-footed overtures like creepy compliments instead of outright threats. They'd probably figured John's crush was superficial, whereas Sharky's had been more real than probably anything else Nick had seen the poor sap go through. John's infatuation had been about power, control, and Joseph goddamn Seed. Still, Nick can't help but wonder just how much of it might've been real to John at the time.

"They had a bad sense of humor," John finally responds, quietly enough that Nick almost misses the hurt.

"Terrible," Nick agrees.

When John sighs, Nick recognizes it as a sign of defeat. Whatever he's debating with himself, he's clearly lost. Although he doesn't speak up again, Nick isn't sure he's gone back to sleep. He sure hopes he didn't just instill another restless night in the guy, but that's John's burden to bear. Maybe he can use it to finally find some common ground with Sharky.

Nick isn't even sure that he can fall back asleep, but that doesn't seem to matter. Before he knows it, he's being woken up once more — this time by a glance of sunlight coming in through the upper part of the windows. It's just enough light to wake him, but he spends an exhausted minute staring at the wall over Kim's shoulder as he debates whether or not he's really committing this time. He's going to need to use the bathroom sooner or later — and just thinking that is enough to tell Nick that he's not getting back to sleep again.

John's back is still facing Nick, and Kim rolls away as soon as Nick starts to squirm, which leaves his path to escape much more open than it was a few hours ago. He manages to pull himself free without waking anyone else, but as soon as he does, John worms into the warm spot left behind. Nick should probably be upset, but mostly he just needs to pee. He can kick John out of his spot after he takes care of himself.

Nick leaves the rest of them to sleep as he tiptoes across the living room to the front door. Unfortunately, the door only wedges open an inch before it hits a wall of snow. Unwilling to wake anyone else up with catastrophic noise, Nick heads upstairs, going for the broken window in John's room. It's freezing up here, cold enough to keep meat until spring, and Nick pulls his flannel closer as he crosses the room, trying not to take too much stock of his surroundings. He doesn't care about the tallies John used to carve in the wall by his bed, and he definitely doesn't care to snoop through the pile of clothes that John's been growing in the corner. What he does care about is how easy it is to crawl out onto the roof from the window — after all, this isn't the first time Nick's been snowed in, and he's made escaping his childhood home an art-form.

There's a good three and a half feet of snow on the ground below, blocking any exit from the first floor. At least the gray sky above is calm, and the weather seems to have calmed down some. They'll have to prepare for another couple of inches before the week's out, but Nick bets the worst of it is over. Now he can think about breakfast — more specifically, coffee — and debate the best way to clear the doorways. They need a path out to the hangar, although they can wait another day or two before they'll need to press the matter. Nick's still convinced there's a set of tire chains hiding away in there, but it's not like the roads will be in any condition to drive on for a while yet...

Nick spends so much time thinking about what he's got to do, he forgets to consider how willing the rest of the house will be to pitch in. The top-of-the-snow sunlight isn't enough heat to make up for the lack of a fire, and getting Kim out from under the blankets is gonna be like pulling teeth until he does something about it. Worse yet, John's rolled into the spot Nick had occupied — not exactly sprawled out, or anything, but the guy is irritatingly close to Kim's sleeping back. If he decided to roll one more time, he'd probably end up smacking his face into her shoulder.

Nick considers throwing a fit on principle, but honestly, that's too much work. It's much easier to sulk, glowering at the bed he's definitely not getting back into before getting some logs to stack in the fire. He drops them noisily by John's feet, although he makes every effort not to accidentally pull a Misery on the guy.

The sound of hollow wood clattering on the ground is enough to stir John, who wakes with a sharp inhale, and cause Carmina to groan and turn away from the noise. Kim has probably been awake for a while now, but it won't make a lick of difference until the fire's on.

He turns away to toss the logs semi-haphazardly into the fireplace, then remembers the kindling and turns to get it. John has propped himself on his elbows, but his half-waking confusion causes him to overlook Nick entirely as he stares around the room. Seeing Kim and Carmina asleep next to him is initially met with confusion. He barely seems to recognize the shapes bundled in the blankets, but when he does he recoils in shock. All the nasty comments Nick had thought up take an abrupt backseat as he stops to marvel at the physical repulsion John shows. He's not sure if he should be offended or not. Probably not, but this apocalypse has got Nick wired all wrong.

"She's not gonna bite," Nick says. John whips his attention back to Nick the moment he raises his voice, only for Nick to realize that looming over the guy with a thick block of wood in hand might send the wrong message.

Sure enough, John catches sight of him, jerking back with a startled hiss. " Jesus !"

"Shit, sorry." Nick turns and drops the log, wincing at the noise that he'd moments ago been deliberately making. "Well, judging from that reaction, looks like this isn't the first time a man's caught you in bed with his wife."

John's withering glare is enough to lift Nick's mood right up. He turns his attention back to starting the fire, listening as John slowly shifts his way free of the blankets. Part of him wants to make a few more jokes at John's expense, but that can wait until John's coherent enough to be snide in return.

Nick gets the fire going and turns to follow John, who's made his way into the kitchen to peer out the window. "Completely snowed in," Nick tells him as he gets the instant coffee and the beat-up kettle. "But it looks like the worst of it's over."

"Seems to be," John agrees, adding, "We forgot the shovels in the truck. It's going to be difficult digging them out now."

"Not a lot of other options, unless you wanna stay inside until the big thaw. Don't worry, I'm sure Carmina will be excited to help us dig."

John hums in assent, although his mind seems to be somewhere else. Nick can't help but notice that John's pensive states seem damned near reasonable nowadays. He has plenty to think about, and he seems to be keeping one foot in the here-and-now. He's aware enough of his surroundings that he stops Nick before he can leave John to it.

He tries to stare Nick down, but he can't quite manage it. "Thank you for not..."

John gestures vaguely as the rest of the sentence fails to generate. Nick could probably wait it out, but he's just as embarrassed as John apparently is, and he would rather move past the whole thing.

"Don't worry about it," Nick says. "Just don't get too comfortable cuddling up to me."

Rolling his eyes doesn't hide John's faint smile, but he turns away before Nick can see if it lasts. "That won't be a problem, trust me."

Nick is surprised that he does, even for something as small and inconsequential as a joke. "Grab the mugs when you're done looking for Santa," he says, turning back for the warmth of the fire. A few months ago, Nick might've resented how eroded the line has become between John and his own family, but it's honestly too much work to keep up. At a certain point, they're just going to have to include John in their daily routines — Nick just hadn't expected that point to be made by sharing blankets during a blizzard.

Well, there's one good thing about that, Nick supposes — it means that somewhere up there, the Deputy is watching over them. After all, there's no way in hell random chance has the same shitty sense of humor as Rook had.

[nerdy-bookworm-1998]

Baby Blues

Pairing: Stucky x Reader Words: 637 Warnings: Fluff Summary: Anon request: “ May we have so domestic fluff with stuckyxreader being newborn parents? Maybe the boys come back from a mission to find the reader feeling like she's a bad parent because the baby keeps crying no matter what she does? “ A/N: If you want to be tagged in future works feel free to send me an ask. Please leave feedback/reblogs. Feel free to check out my Ko-Fi and Patreon, I’m running a promo on Patreon for the first 20 subscribers!

There are a lot of hazards that come with being an Avenger, one of them being that missions can come up at the most unexpected of times. Like when Steve and Bucky had to leave a week ago right after putting their newborn baby girl, Isabelle, to bed.

Despite wanting nothing more than to go home and collapse in bed with their girls they had taken the time to quickly shower and change at the compound before making their way home. However, when they stepped through the door all thoughts of sleep fled their minds as they heard the distressed cries of their daughter.

They briefly shared a panicked look before racing up the stairs to the nursery. The door burst open to reveal y/n, their wife of three years, gently rocking and using a bundle of blankets with dark curls sticking out. "Shh, it's okay sweetheart, momma's here, please stop crying," the way her voice wavers giving away how close she is to tears herself.

Acting on instinct the boys quietly walk over and Steve lifts the crying baby into his arms while Bucky rests his flesh hand on her back. Almost immediately Isabelle's cries die down until it's only the occasional hiccough. Once she has settled down enough to fall asleep she is gently placed in her crib with her favorite bear and covered with her blanket.

Steve and Bucky turn back to y/n only to find that their wife was no longer in the room but they could hear faint sniffles meaning that she wasn't far away. Following the quiet sound as it grows louder the closer they get they find y/n in the living room and their hearts break at the sight before them. Their beautiful, strong, brave wife sitting on the couch in front of the fireplace with tears streaming down her cheeks uncontrollably. The boys sit down on each side of her.

"What's wrong, babydoll?" Bucky asks gently as he runs his fingers through her hair soothingly while Steve holds the hand closest to him in both of his.

"I'm a terrible mother, our daughter hates me," she whispers sadly, clenching her eyes shut tight at the new onslaught of tears threatening to make their appearance.

"Sweetheart, you're an amazing mom! Where would you get an idea like that?" Steve tries to console their wife while feeling helplessly confused.

"I've been trying to get her to settle down for the past hour, I tried everything from feeding her, burping her, changing her diaper, I even played that playlist we made for her, nothing worked. Then you two walk in and within 10 minutes she's sound asleep..." y/n lets out a quiet sob into her free hand.

"Oh doll, that doesn't make you a bad parent. Sometimes babies just want a specific person to hold them. It doesn't mean that she hates you, she loves you. We all love you, angel," Bucky reassures her before placing a tender kiss on her temple.

"Yeah, sweetheart. We all love you to the ends of the galaxy and back, you're the glue that keeps our family together, without you we'd be a mess," Steve adds, bringing y/n's hand up to kiss her knuckles.

"What would I do without you two?" y/n asks rhetorically with a fond smile. After talking quietly for a few more minutes they decide that it's time to get some sleep. On the way they picked up Isabelle and carried her to the crib in their room, filled with blankets fresh from the dryer.

As they lay snuggled up together y/n reflected that they might have a long, sometimes bumpy road ahead, but one thing that she knew for certain was that she loved her family with all her heart and would do whatever it took to keep them safe and happy.

Tags:

@mcdesij @spiderrrling @arrow-guy @interestedbystanderwrites @caplansteverogers @gwendelerynan @here2have-fun @bvckys-doll @bookscoffeeandracoons @bambamwolf87 @loricameback @rockrchick51 @love-nakamura @baebeepeach @timelordy-fangirl2 @jewelofwinter @caramell0w @jewels2876 @ladysergeantbarnes @notawritergettingtherethough @patzammit @fanfictionjunkie1112 @lumar014 @kirsty-evans-writes @robertdowneyhiddleston @lil-lex1 @dragonrosegardens @bookgirlunicorn @farfromshawn

[prettieparker86]

There’s A Woman || Part 2

Part 1 part 5

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warning: Drunken shenanigans 

Gif Credit:@peakypeaky  @peakyblindersdaily  @themiseducationofb

Note: I don’t know how often I will update this or if I will ever update it again. But the support I got for part 1 was unbelievable. Thank you for that!!! A lot of you asked for a part 2, so here it is.

As always, Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are the cheese to my macaroni writing soul and make my fuckin day!

“You got a wild one ‘ere, Arthur. Best keep an eye on her.” John’s joking voice storms through the door, filling the home on Watery Lane as Polly unlocks it and everyone funnels inside after a long night at the Garrison. John spins you out on his arm into the entry way, having practically danced the whole way home.

“I can’t be tamed, Trouble.” You tell him with a playful wink as you call him by your favorite pet name, planting a quick kiss of thanks on his cheek for the good time before he heads home to his herd of kids.

You shoot a pointed glance at Tommy as you pass to make sure he heard your words too. He’s been hovering around you all night, sighing and trying to get you to have a seat and calm down. You’ll have none of it though, instead you take off for Ada standing near the fireplace, hooking your arm through hers as you both giggle and begin to spin around the room in dizzying circles. 

The whiskey rich in your veins, leaving you both hollering and carrying on as you folic clumsily around the small sitting room, until one of you trips and you both tumble to the floor in a heap of laughter against the old rug.

“Christ sakes,” Polly sighs “A’right, off to bed with the both of you before you break everything in the house.” She orders, like a good mother looking after her flock as she pulls the pin from her hat and places it down on the coffee table.

“A’right, you got the word.” Arthur tells you, coming up to you with a slow labored step of his own, reaching for your hand to help you back on your feet.

“Dance with me, Arthur.” You giggle as he helps you stand, wrapping your arms around his neck as a snort gets caught up in your fit, the sound only making you laugh harder. In one swift move, Arthur pulls your arms from his neck and bends down to swing you over his shoulder as you squeal in surprise and excitement.

“It’s off to bed for you, lil’ lady.” Arthur says, moving for the stairs, his uneven drunken steps jostling you about on his shoulder, making you laugh harder as you hang down like a rag doll.

“Fuck sake Arthur, put her down.” You hear Tommy’s frustrated voice fill your ears, watching his black leather shoes come into view from where you hang down near the floor, drunken giggles spilling free with the bounce from every labored step Arthur takes.

You bump up on his shoulder as he takes the first few steps upstairs, snorting loudly as you imagine this is what it must be like to ride a wild beast upside down, but you don’t get far before you feel Tommy take ahold of your arm and Arthur’s too, bringing his brother to a halt.

“You’re drunk brother. If you fall, you’ll break both your necks. Put her down, ey?” Tommy insists, his voice low and unintimidating, but absolutely unquestionable.

“A’right,” Arthurs finally concedes reluctantly with a nod, letting you down slowly on the step in front of him, Tommy’s hands bracing you for good measure.

You steady yourself on the banister as Arthur rises again and meets your gaze.

“I wasn’ gonna drop ya.” He tells you earnestly, before his gaze drifts to Tommy standing beside you both on the stairs.

“I know, Arthur. You’d never let anything happen to me.” You reassure him with a gentle smile, his eyes as glazed and glassy as yours must surely look. 

But it’s the doubt you see in Arthur’s gaze, that look that makes him seem so vulnerable when he thinks his family doesn’t believe in him. You want him to know you don’t feel that way, you believe in him, you trust him. After everything he’d done for you, he’s more than earned that.

The insecurity slowly dissipates from in his eyes as he smiles softly at you, running his thumb tenderly across your cheek for good measure.

“That’s right, sweet girl. Come on, let’s get to bed.” He instructs, his hand falling from your face to give your shoulder a quick pat as he grips the banister and slips past you, pulling himself up the stairs.

You meet Tommy’s gaze with a mischievous glint as he comes to meet you on the stairs.

“No,” He tells you firmly in warning with a slow shake of his head, practically reading your mind.

“I want to dance.” You smile at him cheekily, before making your move.

You try to dart past him and back down the stairs, but Tommy snakes an arm around your waist before you can get by, pulling you against the front of him as he starts climbing the stairs, dragging you with him. You giggle and squirm against him, trying to struggle free, but you’re no match for the determination of Thomas Shelby, least of all when your drunk.

You both reach the landing at the top of the stairs, Tommy huffing in frustration as you carry on as if this is all just a game. His hair falls in his eyes as you twist in his arms to face him, undeterred by his unrelenting stubbornness.

“Dance with me.” You tell him eagerly. It’s not a question and the wide mischievous grin on your face says you aren’t done playing tonight.

“Not tonight, you’re going to bed, Vera.” Tommy orders, denying your request as the arms around your waist continue to lead you into the bedroom you share with Arthur.

Moving past the open door, Tommy lets you go as Arthur shrugs off his jacket. Still humming with the buzz of whiskey, you begin to twirl about the room, arms slowly rising above your head as you go, watching your skirt flare out and spin around you. 

You only stop when you hear a loud “oofff” and a creak fill your ears. You halt mid twirl at the end of the bed, skirt still swaying around you as you turn to see Arthur lying face down across the bed as if he simply collapsed upon it.

Your hands fly up your mouth as a spill of laughter escapes you with the sight of him. This is one of the many things you adore about Arthur, he’s always fun and amusing, even when he doesn’t intend to be.

“A’right you, time for bed.” Tommy order again as he moves across the room toward you.

“Arthur, tell Tommy to dance with me.” You giggle, your eyes on fire as they hold Tommy’s stubborn pair, cheekily antagonizing him as he reaches for you and you slip your arms around his neck, pulling him into position whether he likes it or not.

“Tommaye…” Arthur mumbles in a low half-sleep slur from the pillow his face is buried against.

“There’s no fuckin music. Get into bed, ey?” Tommy grumbles in frustration as if you’re being impossible. Rapidly losing his patience with you, he tries to back you up toward the bed, but you only counter his efforts by trying to sway softly in his arms, trying to force him to move with you.

Shamelessly amused by the irritation mounting on the sharp features of his face, the storm clouds forming in the blues skies of his eyes.

“Now ya just bein’ mean.” You pout, feigning insult as his face finally cracks a smile that makes his eyes crinkle, seeing right through your attempts to appear hurt as you swat at his shoulder playfully.

Tommy doesn’t let down his guard often these days, but you’re starting to think you might be one of the few people that can still disarm him on occasion, as the arm around your back draws you closer and his other hand extends out to take your own.

“Just one.” Tommy concedes, quickly taking your hand in his own and pulling you tight against him before he sends you spinning out toward the bed without warning. You’re barely able to catch your breath as a burst of laughter spills from your lips in surprised delight, before he pulls you back against the cage of his arms. 

And for the briefest of moments, he’s the Tommy you remember from your childhood, the young man who was always laughing and full of mischief. Drawing you against him, your hands lock around the back of his neck as Tommy’s hands settle around the small of your back, as he slowly begins to sway with you. The room settles into a quiet kind of stillness, interrupted only by the occasional creak in the floorboards as you step.

With your arms around the back of his neck, your hands play absently with the shaven hair at the back of his head. The prickly hairs amusing to your numb fingertips as you sway gently together by the faint glow of candlelight. 

You lean into the warmth of him, resting your head against his as you watch a smile slowly curl on Tommy’s face, a real one, the kind he rarely makes since the war. It’s absolutely breathtaking to watch as it makes your heart thump a little faster and summons up a grin of your own.

Your eyes find his as you slowly sway together. Those dangerous blue eyes of his, holding you in one of those moments where they pull you to him like an invisible force, more mighty than any you’ve ever felt. It coils and tugs at your belly, drawing you to him, but feels lite on your breath.

 You find yourself giving into this new feeling like surrendering to a force greater than yourself as you slowly lean in against his lips. Your touch is soft and lite as it brushes against Tommy’s mouth. You feel his grip tighten around your back on contact, before his lips press back against you. A shot like a spark jolts through you as Tommy kisses you back. Your lips part, a shaky breath slipping past the seam against his waiting pair. 

Nerves tighten in your belly as your heart thumps faster, you haven’t been kissed proper since before you were married. And it never felt like this. You feel Tommy’s hand leave your back to cup your cheek, tilting your face slightly as he kisses your more deeply, drawing your top lip into the warmth of his mouth.

You explore the feel of his lips, soft and full against your own. Your touch cautious as you learn the feel of his kiss. Caught up in the moment, you lose all train of thought as you feel Tommy’s tongue faintly glide along the curve of your top lip. It feels warm and wet in a way that makes your belly coil tighter, your breath quicken. 

Curious to know what he tastes like too, you mirror his movement, letting your tongue swipe briefly against his bottom lip pressed in the fold of your mouth. You hear a low groan of approval rise up from somewhere deep within Tommy as you do. It’s a sound you haven’t heard in a long time, that suddenly stirs up a memory from years before, during your time at the children’s home, under a very different set of circumstances. 

But the affect is still the same, the sound has you feeling on edge as you pull away from Tommy. Suddenly unsure of your actions as your hand presses against his chest as you step away from him.

“Stop.” You whisper, your eyes pleading with him before you quickly look away embarrassed. 

Your gaze skims about the room before inevitably drifting to Arthur passed out on the bed and instantly your heart feels guilty for reasons that are hard for you to put into words. There’s nothing romantic between you and Arthur, but your still married to him.  And Arthur saved you, gave up the chance of something real with another to keep your safe. Even now, he still stands by you, keeping his promise to take care of you.

You watch Tommy’s gaze dart from you to his brother and back. He doesn’t say a word, but he doesn’t make a move toward you either. His face expressionless and hard to read.

“This isn’t right, Tommy.” You tell him, unsure of yourself or what you’re doing.

Tommy nods subtly at you in agreement without missing a beat. Regardless of what he actually thinks or feels you can see he’s not putting up a fight. Those haunting eyes of his are impossible to read as they stare into you for a moment longer, before he turns without a word and leaves through the open door, closing it behind him.

You wipe a loose tear you find trailing your cheek as your wobble about the room, stripping off your layers with whiskey numb hands. Tugging your stockings free of your garter belt, unbuttoning your blouse, shimmying your skirt down your hips. Stripping it all away, piece by piece until your naked in the faint candlelight, except for your knickers. 

You’d never do this if Arthur were awake, never do this if the whiskey wasn’t dancing with the blood in your veins, but both stand true tonight as you move on unsteady feet across the room, retrieving one of Arthur’s long undershirts. It feels warm and safe as your pull it over your head, similar to the way Arthur makes you feel. The sleeves swallowing your hands, the ends hanging down to almost your knees.

You move to the bed, pulling Arthurs shoes off his feet one by one, careful – trying not to wake him, before you reach for the blanket folded at the end of the bed and the pull it over him. Leaning over Arthur, you think he doesn’t look so burdened when he sleeps. 

You wish he could always feel that way as you brush the sweat matted hair off his forehead tenderly with care. Arthur grumbles affectionately as you fuss on him. Reaching for your hand, he squeezes it lightly, eyes still held closed, half sleep as he draws it near.

“You’re a good girl,” He mumbles genuinely before giving your hand a simple kiss of gratitude and letting you go, drifting back off to sleep.

After what happened you know you shouldn’t, but you do. As quietly as you can with the buzzing in your brain, you sneak out of the bedroom and close the door gently behind you. Moving one room over you knock lightly on the old faded wood.

“Yeah?” Calls from the other side before you turn the knob as quietly as you can. 

You stand in the doorway, the door cracked as the subtle light from the candle fills your face. You spot Tommy lying on his bed on top of the blanket. Stripped of his buttons down, lying in only his undershirt, trousers and socks as his face turns to see who’s darkened his door, smoke steadily in his hand. He doesn’t even bother looking surprised to see you.

You don’t say a word, just meet his eyes, staring into the endless seas of blue, leaning against the doorframe awaiting his verdict. He doesn’t give you one though, everything is unspoken as he slowly pulls back the blanket on the small strip of bed beside him. Moving as quietly as you can on the balls of your feet, you close the door behind you and creep to the bed. 

You purposefully climb over him this time, watching his face, catching his eyes as you brace your hands on his chest and move slowly across his body. After what happened in the bedroom you need know where you stand, need to know he’s still the man you trust. You’re drunk, the liquor spurs on your bold desire to test his limits as Tommy’s hand steadily pulls on a cigarette, the other resting on his chest as your settle lightly across his waist.

You snatch the cigarette from his hand and draw it to your lips as you lean back on him, taking a slow steady pull from it. You search the loaded barrels of his penetrating blue eyes as you linger there, smoking his cigarette, straddling his waist, daring him to do something about either. Needing to see what you find, needing to know if you can still trust what you believe to be true about Tommy Shelby. 

It’s there you see touches of something flicker in his pupil against the candlelight, but he doesn’t move to touch you. Staring into his eyes you find the unwavering grip of his gaze. You find the Tommy you’ve grown accustom to since the war. The one who’s so indifferent with everyone these days, he drives the rest of the family up the wall.

“Find what your lookin for Vera?” Tommy asks with an air of impatience, as if he sees right through your test. 

Understands there’s nothing behind your provocative actions, but your inquisitive nature and cigarette smoke. Finding what you needed to see, you hand him back his cigarette as you climb off him. Only then does his hand move, once your nearly free of him. You feel his touch trail lightly against the skin under your thigh, but he doesn’t squeeze at your flesh or try to hold you against him as your leg lifts over his body without a fight. 

Tommy looks at you and for a moment he’s just a man staring at a woman, all dark and stormy with thunder and lightning barely contained in his pupil, but he doesn’t act on it. And it’s gone from his gaze as quickly as it came. That’s why you trust him. You claim your special little spot on the mattress and burrow into it. Drawing the blanket tightly around you, snuggled warm, you glance up at Tommy and his heavy gaze waiting to trap you.

You stare into his eyes boldly as you did before, knowing he won’t like what you’re about to say, but you press on anyway.

“I know you’re fixing races and I know about the guns.” You tell him boldly. 

You learned from the best. Watching Polly, seeing how she moves. You’ve learned if you talk less and listen more, everything reveals itself in this house. You watch as Tommy’s sharp jaw clenches in anger, watch as it flexes as his gaze heats up upon you. Not the darkness of a man looking at a woman. No, this is the look Tommy gets when his thin patience is tested and he’s moments away from dismissing you entirely.

“I’ll always look after Arthur, but I don’t want to be a good little wife who stays at home, Tommy. I don’t want to have babies. I want you to teach me about business. I want to work with you.” You tell him fearlessly, staring into his eyes, not backing down as you watch as his head slowly begins to shake in dismissal.

“Vera, it’s dirty business and you’re a woman…” Tommy sighs, turning away from you, his gaze shooting up to the ceiling as he takes another long pull of his cigarette. His anger mostly dispersed, diffused by your ambition and the knowledge your dreams are just that, dreams.

His answer frustrates you even though you know you should expect it. Women handled all the business while men were away at war, but now that they’re home it’s like it never even happened at all. Pushed aside, back into homemaking and raising children, back in their place, but that’s not what you’re after. 

“All business is dirty, Tommy. The powerful prey on the weak. An’ once you know that, you know there are no rules.” You glare at his profile in frustration for a long moment, catching as his eyes flit your way, before turning your back on him, burrowing into your spot on the mattress and trying to drift to sleep.

It’s only hours later that he wakes you, breathing hard and shooting up in bed. It’s the commotion that stirs you as your eyes open to the sight of Tommy’s back rising rapidly in the bed beside you.

You reach for his shoulder, placing your hand upon it in concern, but you realize almost instantly that was a mistake as Tommy turns on you. Twisting against the mattress in a flash, the unrelenting grip of his hands taking hold of you as his face smothers the space you breathe. Pinning you down to the mattress, his eyes barreling fury down upon you.

“Tommy, it’s me, it’s Vera. It’s ok. It’s ok.” You try to reassure him on a rattled breath. You never stay in his bed all night, you’ve never seen him life this before, but you recognize it for what it is, a nightmare.

“Vera?” Tommy’s desperate breath heaves out against your face, his arms pinning you to the bed. Sensing if you move quick or struggle it’ll only make matters worse, you hold still in his unrelenting grasp.

“It’s me, Tommy.” You whisper softly, your hand slowly, cautiously reaching up to wipe away the trail of sweat running down his jaw to his neck.

Tommy’s forehead lowers to yours, pressing against you and pushing you further into the bed. His face strains from ghosts you can’t see as he lets out a long huff that flutters against your mouth. Your heart hammers in your chest, but you remind yourself you trust him.

Without warning Tommy lifts off you, quickly releasing you before he turns away, his legs moving off the side of the bed as he sits on the edge of it. You watch the prolife of his face contort and strain before he scrubs his hands furiously over it.

You scoot over in the bed until your beside him, resting your head gently upon his shoulder.

“It’s ok, Tommy. I have nightmares too sometimes.” You admit to him honestly. Trying to explain you understand. And not the goulish horrors your mind can conjure up on a whim. These are the kind of horrors that pull deep from the recesses of your mind to the places you try not to remember, but can never forget.

“What about?” He asks you vaguely, his voice unusually deep as if his throat is tight, as his hands fall away from his face and he shoots you a sideways glance.

You let out a long sigh, nuzzling your cheek against his shoulder as you think it over carefully. 

“I don’t pray anymore.” You shrug lightly, trying not to reveal too much. “I lost my faith.”

Without further explanation, you reach for him, your hand slipping along his jaw, up to the sharp mountain peak of his cheek, feeling the stubble bristle along your hand as you go. Pulling gently, you draw Tommy’s face to yours, he resists a little, but ultimately you feel him give in.

You’re eyes hold steady, staring into his guarded fortress of tripwires and hand grenades, unafraid and undeterred as you reach for him, begging him to listen.

“We’re the same, Tommy. You and me. An’ if you open your eyes, you’ll see it too…  Let me help you. Teach me.” You tell him with utter conviction. You know it with absolute certainty, you saw it the other night in his eyes and you still see it in his eyes tonight.

Part 3

[peterparkyourassonme]

moving abroad; peter parker

pairing: peter parker x reader word count: 1,265 warning: none summary: You want to move abroad, it has always been your dream. You want to live your life and get out there, but when you tell Peter the exciting news, he isn’t too excited about it.  note: I made the country where the reader wants to go to The Netherlands, because I am from there and also tom... holland. such a pun, clap clap clap.  Also note for the anon who requested: You did not address if the reader and Peter were in a relationship. I thought about it and decided for them to be.  Peter and the reader are not in school anymore. You have a place yourself, Peter basically lives there. But he still lives with aunt May, because he loves her so much. You should not focus on the age and the avenger team so much, it’s not all worked out.  request by anon! I hope you like it. my other work

You had finally done it. You had the right amount of money, confidence and excitement. You had found a beautiful apartment in the middle of Amsterdam. Your parents loved the idea of you living in Europe. You had never really liked living in Queens and all they wanted was for you to be happy. And they wouldn’t mind going to Amsterdam to visit you. 

The only thing left to do was telling your boyfriend, Peter. You had two offers for him. He could either come with you or he could come visit. Your plan was to move back to New York after one or two years. You loved Peter so much, you would never mind to have a long distance relationship with him. 

You were meeting Peter at a cafe for lunch. You spotted him somewhere in the back and went to sit with him. ‘Hi (Y/n)’ He greeted you with a loving smile. He stood up before you could sit down to give you a kiss on your cheek. ‘I already ordered your favorite’. You both sat down as you thanked him. 

Your food arrived and now it was time to tell him. ‘Hey, I need to tell you something’. ‘Go ahead, love’ He looked up at you. ‘I want to move, well I am moving’. The thought of moving to Europe brightened up your face. ‘Great! Where are you moving in Queens?’ He seemed excited, you both hated your current apartment. ‘Oh- no-’ you nervously laughed. ‘I- I am moving out of Queens’. His smiling face was replaced by him just making an ‘o’ with his mouth. ‘Well, uh where are you moving then? I mean as long as it’s not all the way across the country it would be fine right, We’ll be fine’ He reached out for your hand. ‘I’m moving to Europe, to Amsterdam’ You bit your lip. If he minded the other side of the country this was not going to be good. 

He almost choked on his food. ‘I’m sorry?’ He took a sip of his drink to prevent him form actually choking. ‘I really want to do this. And if you want we could even do this together, Peter’ You squeezed his hand. ‘I-, (Y/n) I can’t...’ He sighed and rubbed his eyes. ‘possibly move to Europe’. He shook his head with wide eyes and opened mouth. ‘Why not? Are you scared? Imagine how great this can be for us?’ Your eyes were still full of adoration and love. ‘Because’ He raised his voice and quickly toned it down. ‘Because, everything I have lies in New York. My friends, my job, Aunt May. You! Your here in New York with me, in Queens. I beg you don’t’ Now he squeezed your hands. ‘This has been my dream for so long, I love new things and I’m planning on moving back in one or two years anyway. We could do long distance, I believe we can do that! I just thought you would want to come with me’ The disappointment in your voice was clear. 

‘Believe me, I wish I could. But. I. Can’t’ His voice was stern. Even tho tears were stinging his eyes. 

‘Why not?’ You wanted a better reason. 

He smashed some money down on the table and aggressively took your hand. You stood upas he dragged you after him. 

Peter slammed the door of you apartment. ‘Well? Why can’t you come with me?’ You folded your arms. ‘I’m Spider-Man’.

‘Oh so that’s what this is all about, You’re gonna bring out the old “I’m Spider-Man” quote. Because that rules your life’ You loved that Peter could do what he loved, but he was so dramatic about it.

‘I can’t leave New York. What if Tony Stark needs me? What if anyone needs me. I am still your ol’ friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. I am here to keep the streets of New York as safe as they can be. Not the streets of Amsterdam’ He sighed. He wasn’t gonna give up everything he had become. He wasn’t gonna give you up. 

‘Superhero’s take breaks. You have been doing this for a pretty long time now, Peter. It wouldn’t hurt if you’d take a break, live your own life. You can always return. I know Tony will always keep open a place for you’ You walked to him and stroked his cheek. His arms snaked around your waist. 

‘I just don’t think you can handle this right now’

You pulled away from him. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ The blood rushed to your face. 

‘You have a good job and it’s been stressing you out lately, but it’s an amazing job. I think you’ll regret it if you leave. And I don’t think you could handle long distance with that. I know I won’t be able to do the whole long distance thing’ He was trying to convince you to stay in a sneaky way. Of course he thought you could take on anything, god you could take on the world if you had to. He couldn’t be away from you that long and wanted you to stay so bad. 

‘Thanks Peter, Thanks a lot’ Tears rolled down your cheeks. ‘No, (Y/n) I didn’t mean it like that’. You walked away from him, but he twisted you around when he grabbed your arm. You flinched at his touch and released yourself from his grip. ‘Well, it sure sounded like you did’. With that you ran from him and locked yourself in your bedroom. You collapsed in your bed and cried yourself to sleep. 

Peter had called Ned, Michelle and May, but they did not pick up. He decided to stay and sleep on your couch where he, just like you, sobbed himself to sleep. 

You woke up to the smell of breakfast. You walked out of your room to see Peter in the kitchen cooking you your favorite breakfast. ‘Good morning, beautiful’ He said when he was aware that you were there. 

You sat down at the table. He came over to you with the food. ‘Breakfast is served’ he proudly said. ‘Oh, so you think I can’t even make my own breakfast? I see’ You said with your nose in the air. 

He kissed your cheek and sat down. He took your hand, in a strong grip so you couldn’t escape. 

‘I think you should go to Europe’. His loving tone caught your attention. ‘You do?’ you turned to him. He kissed your hand. ‘Yes. I thought about it and please forget everything I said. I was trying to manipulate you into staying, but I would have felt so guilty if you had stayed because of that. I am so sorry I can’t come with you. I’ll visit you as much as you want. I am pretty sure I can’t go a week without you. So we’ll have to figure it out, like we always do. I want you to be happy and hey, it’s only for two years’ He stood up from his chair and took you with him. His hand travelled around your waist and yours around his neck. ‘I love you so much. You’re such a powerful woman and you’re gonna do great out there. I believe in you, I believe in us’ He leaned down to kiss you. He was gonna get as much affection out of you as he could before you left. 

‘I love you, thank you’ you smiled up at him. ‘For you, always’.

A/N: I had soooo much fun writing this and I am very happy with the result! Thanks to the anon who requested it! I hope you like it!

Also we got 65 followers now what? Welcome to all the new people! You are very welcome here.

I am meeting my internet friend from Portugal next Sunday and I am so excited to see her. She is my best friend and she has been for almost a year. I am meeting her in one of the most beautiful cities in the world, Amsterdam. I am spending two days with her and than I’ll have my first day of school, my senior year. While she is still off having vacation. So grateful for this to actually be a thing tho.

I hope you guys liked it! If you did give it a lil like or reblog. Requests are welcome! Adored by him part 4 will be up this weekend!

And I will see you in the next one!