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tell me who i run to (if not you) | anthony beauvillier | Ep 3. Pal-entine's Day

This is a completed series! Read Full Fic | 🧸 Series Cover Page/Masterlist 🧁 | 🎵 Playlist 🎶 << Previous Episode || Ep 3 || Next Epissode>>

Episode synopsis:Tito returns her kindness by being a shoulder Evie can lean on when she is having a hard time after all-star break. She tells him it’s anxiety about work. He brings her a box of pastries and they cuddle on the couch all day; he doesn’t realize it’s Valentine’s Day. Later, a hook-up goes very wrong.

A/N: You can refer to cover page for the series summary, author's notes, tropes, general warnings and other fun tidbits. This series contains mature themes. Minors DNI. Warnings: This episode contains mentions of a past toxic relationship and sex that occurs off screen. Disclaimer: This series is set in Chicago but does not mention the name of the team.

Word count: 4.8k // 44.5k

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Pal-entine’s Day

Evie — February 10

It’s late when Evie finishes work for the day. She rubs her eyes and finishes her cup of tea, which is now less than lukewarm. She sighs. This was kind of her own doing. She didn’t work as much as she should’ve in January, especially in the week that Tito stayed over, which means she’s feeling more behind than she would like them to be. Not to mention, this latest work she was editing was full of so many glaring issues that the document has more comments than text at this point.

She puts her phone down and rests her head on the table.

She doesn’t regret it. Tito had been clearly so down in the dumps after his wrist injury. She had taken him to the different museums, touristy sights, and fun restaurants around town that she had been meaning to get to; she had thought that she would catch up on her work when he was in Florida with his brother’s family during Bye Week.

She doesn’t regret it because their adventures brightened his mood every time, his glowing smile seared on the inside of her eyelids. She thinks about the time she had taken him to the Skating Ribbon in Maggie Daley Park on a particularly bad day.

He had come back from the rink dejected after being told he couldn’t join no-contact practice yet. He had been cleared to skate, though. So, the joy on his face when he stepped onto the ice again, even if it was a park and not an NHL arena, made them both feel a hundred pounds lighter.

She doesn’t regret it. It’s just that— Unfortunately, her plan to catch up on work during Bye Week didn't happen. The day after Tito left for Florida, her apartment felt startlingly empty.

It reminded her of when she had first moved to Chicago. She had just a couple of boxes and suitcases. She left behind all the remnants of her life with Pierre. Those plates, pillows, and knickknacks didn’t feel like they belonged in her life anymore. That’s why she moved, right? To get a clean start at age 28.

It wasn’t just stuff she had left behind. It was her whole life, a life that had looked increasingly foreign in those final months anyway. All of their friends, all of their stuff, all of their memories. He could keep them. She just wanted out.

Those first months in Chicago had felt so lonely, living without anyone else for the first time ever. It was hard to make friends in a new city, so she spent a lot of time just in her apartment. The thought kept creeping into her head that she would probably be alone forever and regret leaving her seemingly perfect relationship behind in Toronto.

She downloaded and deleted Bumble probably ten times in the first few months.

Eventually, she met Kelsey, Leanne, and the others at a work-sponsored holiday party. They were unhappy that she hadn’t reached out sooner. So, with them dragging her out of her house a few times a week to whatever restaurant, bar, or event, she eventually settled into life in Chicago. Looking back, she’s not quite sure when her one-bedroom apartment started to feel like home.

That's why she’s so shocked to find herself once again feeling unsettled. Her sleep hasn’t been great either, making her sluggish and heavy. In the week or so since Tito left for Florida, she has only left her house twice. Both of them were to see him play when he returned to the lineup after the All-Star break.

When she looks around her apartment, she can see the small pile of his clothes that sits at the far end of the couch. She had washed them while he was away and folded them so they would be clean when he came back.

That was a week ago.

She’s happy that he’s back at training and back in the line-up. She appreciates the rigorous schedule that he's sticking to to get back to the top of his game.

She understands that means she takes a back seat. It’s just that she wishes a little part of her didn’t resent it or herself for missing his company that she didn’t know she had gotten so used to.

She doesn’t pester him, though, not when he was on vacation and not now that he’s been back training. He still texts her every day, and she tries not to get too excited when he does, being mindful to not be too suffocating and demanding of his time and attention.

She figures it’s probably not a bad idea to realign her priorities: to focus on her work and on the book that she wants to finally finish soon.

Tito — February 14

Tito watches as the sky begins to lighten and decides to just give up on going back to sleep. He reaches over and checks his phone.

5:48 am.

Great.

He unlocks his phone, which opens to the text thread with Evie he had been staring at after the game last night.

Monday, 4:46 pm evie 🧁: sorry, i don’t think i’ll be coming to the game tomorrow. i’m just totally under water with work right now. To evie 🧁: damn, that sucks. i’m sorry. do you want me to come over with some dinner tonight? To evie 🧁: or after the game tomorrow?

He didn’t receive a reply until past midnight that night.

Yesterday, 1:18 am evie 🧁: nah, it’s okay To evie 🧁: good morning to you too. how're you doing? work hasn’t killed you right? i can bring over some lunch. i bet you havent been eating much. Read

He quickly swipes out of his messages and locks his phone again.

He stares out the window. They have only known each other for less than two months, but not hearing from Evie for so long throws him off-kilter.

This is so unusual, given their typical rhythm, that even if work has been busy, he’s worried, and underneath the worry, he’s confused. It seemed unlike Evie to not be open with him about whatever was bothering her— at least, he thought she was.

A little while later, he finds himself sitting in front of her favorite bakery on his way to her apartment. He waits for the clock to hit 9 a.m. before he heads in and picks up breakfast for them both: a selection of pastries and two coffees. It’s busier than he expects, but there are still plenty of their favorites left.

He’s been to Evie’s building enough times now that the doorman recognizes him and buzzes him up the elevator straight away with a nod. It’s only when he's standing outside her door that he realizes he should've probably texted beforehand to make sure she was free.

Too late now. Tito rings her doorbell, his heart in his throat as he listens for any sound inside.

Somewhere between 30 seconds and 10 minutes later, he hears some shuffling, and the door opens slowly. Standing in the entryway is Evie rubbing her eyes with the sleeve of his Canucks hoodie, sleep shorts barely peaking out under the hem. He rips his eyes away from the soft skin of her legs.

She startles when she sees him, her eyes wide. Her messy hair and fuzzy slippers only intensify the warm fondness buzzing in his chest.

“Um, hi,” she says, stepping aside to wave him in. “What’s all this?”

“Nice hoodie,” he beams at her, a crooked smile tugging on the corner of his lips.

“What?” She looks down and immediately covers her face with her hands. “Oh shit, this is yours. I was just grabbing the first hoodie I saw, and it was sitting on my— I’m sorry, do you want it back? I can go change.”

“Hey,” he says gently, setting the food down on the kitchen counter. “No, keep it on. I can’t really wear it out anymore, and it looks good on you.”

She cracks a smile for the first time this morning.

“Here, I brought you some breakfast and coffee— peppermint mocha, half sweet, with oat milk. I figured you might need something stronger with all the late nights you’ve been working.”

She stares at him silently for a long time before reaching for the coffee and whispering a quiet, “Thanks.”

He smiles at her and pulls her in for a quick hug, feeling some of the tightness in his chest melt away as he breathes in her scent. As he pulls back, he waves her to the couch.

“Go, sit.” He pushes her gently. “I’ll bring over the food.”

As if on cue, her stomach grumbles. “What did you get? Oh! Oooh! Good Ambler. My favorite,” she says excitedly, finally looking more like herself.

He smiles to himself as he puts the food down on the coffee table. “Yeah, I know! I got us the quiche and a bunch of their pastries.” He opens the box and watches as her eyes light up.

She laughs, “Wow, you really went all out.”

“I guess I did,” he shrugs.

They eat in a comfortable silence for a while, both deep in thought. It’s been a few days since Tito has set foot in her apartment. He feels more at home here than in his own place. There are touches of Evie everywhere.

She has shelves next to the TV console that are covered in books. There are at least five more books spread around the room. Her fuzzy blanket is draped across the back of the couch. There are candles on her coffee table, sitting next to colorful coasters with bad book puns on them. Unhung art and posters are leaning against the bottom of the walls. The space is so clearly lived in and loved.

Although, as he looks around, he can see the signs that things might be a bit off. There are dirty dishes piled up in the sink when there usually wouldn’t be any. There are stacks of papers spread across various surfaces. A box next to the bin for the overflowing trash. He counts at least seven mugs of mostly drunk tea around the space.

He frowns.

“So,” he starts cautiously, “how've you been?” He winces at how awkward that sounds.

“Oh, you know. Same old, same old. Busy? I guess mainly.” She stares at the muffin in her hands, pointedly avoiding his skeptical expression.

He sighs and reaches over, his broad hand lightly covering her wrist. “Hey, I feel like something has been off recently, and I want to know what’s going on. Is it just work that’s been crazy? Or is there something else?”

Evie looks up at him finally; their eyes meet, both assessing the other. He can see the dark circles that dull her tired eyes, her expression pained.

“Yeah, I’ve just been having trouble getting stuff done. But it’s not a big deal. It’s fine, though. I can handle it.” She frowns and picks at the remaining half of the muffin.

“Hey,” Tito says gently. He reaches out, takes the muffin, and puts it down before taking her hands in his. The movement makes them turn to each other. “It’s okay if you’re struggling. Just tell me how I can help. I won’t judge you, okay?”

She shakes her head, tugging her hands back and hugging them to her body. “Yeah, I know, but I’m okay. I don’t want to be a pain—”

“Evie,” he says gently, “Asking for help doesn’t make you a pain. Look, we’re friends, right? You were there for me last month when I was having a really bad time. And now I want to be here for you. You should let me help where I can. Or at least tell me what’s wrong. I can’t guarantee I’ll always say or do the right thing, but I’ll listen, and I’ll try to help where I can, okay?”

She looks at him, searching his face for a lie and not finding one in his open and caring expression. “Okay,” she whispers with a small smile.

“Okay.”

He hands her back her muffin, and they finish up their breakfast. He takes their trash to the kitchen, and despite her complaints, he does the dishes as he makes them both a cup of tea.

When he sits back down on the couch, he finally speaks again, “So, are you going to tell me what’s wrong? Or at least, if there’s anything I can do to help?”

She heaves a big sigh but does smile at him warmly before settling into the couch. “I guess I just had a kinda bad week last week? I'm kinda behind on stuff, and I got really in my head about it. Remember how I told you I moved here after a bad breakup? Well…” She shrugs.

“You don’t need to explain if you don’t want to. I know it sucks. I mean, I haven’t dated anyone seriously since before the pandemic. But we actually broke up like January 2020, so those first few months in lockdown were really rough. Just bad feelings and a whole lot of time.”

She looks up at him, “Oh. I had no idea.”

“It’s not a big deal. That was quite a few years ago at this point, anyway. I’m over it now, but— I’m just saying that I know it can be hard.”

“Yeah,” she nods, fiddling with her mug before finally saying, “Honestly, I’m not that bummed about the breakup. It wasn’t bad or anything. Or at least nothing bad happened. Things just sort of just… I don’t know. I was just feeling like shit all the time.

“By the time I left, I had already been mentally checked out for a while, so I wasn’t really sad at all anymore. It was mainly hard because our lives were so entwined.

“We had gone to grad school together, and we were working at the same company. We had all the same friends, and everyone loved him, you know? So, it was hard to leave that behind.”

He reaches out and squeezes her knee, encouraging her to keep talking.

“It’s just… I hate it, feeling like I’m falling behind.”

“Like on work?”

She nods weakly.

“Well, if it’s anything I’ve had to learn in my career, you’re more than your productivity. You don’t need to be perfectly productive all the time to be contributing something.”

“Yeah… it’s just that—” Evie sighs.

“What?”

She swallows heavily and looks out the window. “It’s just that… I hate feeling behind at work because it makes me feel like I’m behind on my career. And that’s really all I have right now. After— Like, I’m 28 years old, and what do I have to show for it.”

He studies her face and squeezes her knee again, drawing her gaze back to him. “Who told you that?”

“What?”

“Who told you that you’re behind on life?”

“Well… Pierre? I guess. My ex. He used to talk about success milestones—”

“Success what?” he interrupts.

She powers on. “Just, like, things I should accomplish by a certain age. And when I left, you know? I set back my life? Single again. Starting over. And when I left, Pierre kinda pointed that out. And all I have left is my career— a struggling career.”

“Okay, honestly?” He says, fuming, “Fuck Pierre. Like, what the fuck is that?”

“No,” she shakes her head, chewing on her bottom lip, “No. I don’t— He’s right.”

“He isn't right.” He's sitting up now, fully facing her. “He's not— Firstly, your career isn't struggling. You have a job you enjoy, and from everything I’ve heard from Kelsey and Leanne, you’re fucking good at it. You’re making progress with finishing your book every week, which is awesome. I see you working your ass off all the time. And on top of all that, you're a great fucking friend. And a great fucking person.”

He shakes his head and sighs loudly. “Evie, you don’t have to complete some stupid made-up checklist to be successful. Only you get to decide what counts as success in your life. That's the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard. Honestly, Evie, I'm saying this as your friend, fuck Pierre for making you feel lesser and smaller with this bullshit.”

She looks at him, her face betraying her surprise at his outburst. His cheeks are warm and probably a little flushed, but he doesn’t care. He can feel the anger in his veins, opening and closing his fists to dispel some of the energy.

“I guess?” she says finally. “Pierre’s really not a bad guy. He’s a good person. We just— He just wasn’t a good fit for me.”

“Okay,” he concedes, silently disagreeing with her assessment.

“Thanks, though. For saying that. It means a lot.” She reaches out and squeezes his clenched fists. “Thank you. I'm okay, really. Overall, in the grand scheme of things, anyway. I’m sorry I didn’t come to your game yesterday.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to come to every game. It’s just an offer.” He smiles softly. “I mean, I’d love to have you there, obviously, but I’ll understand if you don't.”

“Okay,” she smiles back.

“So, do you think you can take today off? I think you might be a little burnt out.”

She sighs and looks at her phone, the emails trickling in. She knows she has the time; she always makes herself finish far earlier than whatever deadline her director gives her. She fires off a quick message to the group, telling them she’s taking a mental health day, before putting her phone face down on the coffee table.

“Yeah,” she smiles, “I can take today off.”

“Good,” he beams. He puts his arm around Evie’s waist and pulls her into his side. He reaches for the remote. “That’s good because I haven’t seen any Brooklyn Nine-Nine in like two weeks, and I know the next episode is a Halloween heist episode, and it’s been killing me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, dummy. That’s our show. I can’t watch it without you.”

She laughs, “Okay.”

He puts on the show, smiling as it plays the cold open. He turns to her and tugs her in closer.

“Hey, Evie?”

“Yeah?”

“Please just tell me what’s bothering you next time, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. I will. I promise.” She smiles up at him from his side, and he feels his chest tighten.

A few episodes later, they've slid down on the couch so that she’s almost lying on top of him. He looks down at her head on his chest to see her sound asleep. He pauses the show and pulls out his phone.

To jason dickinson: yo, do you have any more restaurant recs? evie’s been having a rough week, i’m thinking maybe taking her out for dinner today might cheer her up jason dickinson: eyyyyyyy get it!!!!!! To jason dickinson: ????? get what??? jason dickinson: uh? is this a trick question? To jason dickinson: no? jason dickinson: a date? laid? idk To jason dickinson: WHAT?!!!! jason dickinson: you’re asking for a date spot right? To jason dickinson: wtf jason, no. we’ve been through this. we’re just friends. jason dickinson: riiiiiiight. just friends who ask for a date spot on valentine’s day

Tito’s eyes widen as he glances at the calendar app on his phone.

February 14.

Valentine’s Day.

Fuck.

Next to him, Evie stirs, yawning.

“Hey,” she says, her voice muffled, “You paused the show?”

“Yeah, you fell asleep.”

She chuckles. “I guess I did.” She looks up at him and frowns. “What’s up, Tito? You got a weird look on your face.”

“Oh, um. I just realized what day it was.”

“What day is it?” she looks at her phone.

“Yeah, it’s Valentine’s Day.”

“Oh!” she laughs, shaking her head. She pulls away, sitting up, and runs her fingers through her hair. “Okay? Did you have plans? I’m good here if you want to go.”

“What? No? What plans would I have?”

“I don’t know, Anthony. Maybe you’re an international man of mystery,” she laughs, lightly shoving his knee.

“Sure I am,” he says, rolling his eyes, “That’s not what I meant, though.”

“What did you mean then?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you have plans.” She gives him an unimpressed look. “Okay, well, maybe you don’t have plans. But I didn’t get you anything.”

“Do friends get friends Valentine’s Day gifts?”

He sucks in a breath. “I mean, no? I don’t know.”

“You did get me a whole box of pastries. I feel like that’s pretty good. I mean it’s not like I’ve ever celebrated Valentine’s Day before.”

He freezes, brows furrowed.

“What? You never celebrated with Pierre?”

“Nope,” she shakes her head.

“Weren’t you together for like five years?”

“Yep!” she shrugs. “He just wasn’t into that sort of stuff. He thought it was stupid and a waste of money.”

“Come on, what the fuck?” he says, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, we never did anniversaries either. It’s not a big deal.”

“Please tell me he at least did birthdays.”

“I guess. I mean, he always got me birthday and Christmas presents, but usually nothing major. I always planned a dinner and stuff with our group of friends for my birthday.”

He studies her face, his brows furrowed.

She sits up. “What?”

“Seriously?”

She nods.

“I bet he always got you to plan his birthday parties too.” He rolls his eyes and sighs. “I don’t mean to be rude, but like. Fuck Pierre, man.”

She’s quiet for a second before saying softly, “It’s really not a big deal.”

He shakes his head. “I mean, sure, Valentine’s Day is kinda stupid and cheesy. But that’s the point. It doesn’t mean you shouldn’t use it as an excuse to show someone you love them.”

“Wow, Anthony. I didn’t know you were such a romantic,” she grins, bumping his shoulder.

“I’m not. He just sounds like he was being lazy and didn’t really care to try.”

“It’s really not that big of a deal, Tito. Guys're just like that.”

His eyes follow the sad smile she gives him, and he pauses. Her eyes are a little glassy, and her cheeks redder. He knows when to leave something be.

“Guys are absolutely not ‘just like that,’” he says, making air quotes. “But I’ll drop it.”

He lays back down, tugging on her arm. He mutters, “I just think that he should've cared enough to try, like, even a little bit.”

“God, you're such a sap. Imagine your teammates hearing about this.”

“I wouldn't be embarrassed, Evie. Like, at all,” he looks at her flatly.

She rolls her eyes and lays back down against him.

A few minutes later, she speaks up again. “So, you want to hit up some clubs tonight? Things always get hot and heavy on Valentine’s Day. Good night to pick-up.”

“It’s Wednesday, and I’ve got a game tomorrow,” he says, his voice hollow as he forces his eyes to stay on the screen.

“Lame,” she says, a relieved smile on her lips that he doesn't see.

Evie — March 2

When Evie comes to, she’s lying on her bed with her arm covering her eyes, panting. Her body still feels tingly, in the way it does after good, wild sex. It always leaves her a little dizzy and disoriented. She can hear the sound of heavy breathing next to her. She hums, pleased.

Her other outstretched hand is buried in soft hair. She tugs on a curl and smiles. She loves his curly hair. Evie has always had thick, straight hair, a blessing and a curse; it has never felt as soft as curly hair does. Her fingers twirl around the curl, playing with the springy coil.

She thinks maybe Tito will let his hair grow even longer. He looks so good with longer hair that forms actual curls. The way it falls in front of his eyes a bit makes him look so soft. She thinks about how he lays on the couch lazily, his hair splayed out on the cushion, and how his shirt rides up to show the sliver of skin above his low-slung sweats when he gets comfortable.

The urge to ask him if he’s going to cut his hair soon overtakes her exhaustion, and she moves her arm to look over.

“So—” Evie starts before she furrows her brows.

At that moment, she notices that instead of Tito’s baby blues, she's met with a pair of wide-eyed browns. Her entire body freezes as the night slams back into her consciousness.

The dancing, the flirting, the meaningful looks, the cab ride home, the sex. God, the sex was fucking good. Her limbs hum in agreement as her chest tightens.

Well, these eyes gaze at her lazily, warm and soft. Evie’s hand is still in her curly mess of hair. The first thing she thinks is that it's actually longer than Tito’s hair is now before she immediately banishes his name from her mind completely.

Evie can’t seem to relax her body enough to free her voice, which is caught in her throat.

Shit, what is her name?

Natalie? Natalia? Natasha? Nat for sure—

“Don’t worry,” Nat states, smirking, “I’m not staying. Just trying to catch my breath before leaving.”

Evie can’t help but feel unsettled and disoriented, but she forces her mind to quieten. Nat is really hot, and they did have a really good night. Slowly, Evie puts a coy smile back on her face and blinks slowly at her.

“You don’t have to leave? If you don’t want to. I didn’t mean to kick you out.”

Evie has absolutely no idea why she just said that. She has never asked a hook-up if they want to stay. It must show on her face because Nat laughs. She shakes her head and presses another heated kiss to Evie’s lips, reminding her why she feels like she’s still floating outside of her body.

“I’ll get going.” Nat shakes her head and stands up, looking for her clothes in the mess on the floor. Evie probably should've cleaned up a little before going out.

She leans up on her elbows and lets her eyes trail down Nat’s body. Her mind finally focuses, and she whistles. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay?”

Nat laughs.

“Yes, baby girl. I’ve got to go to work tomorrow. This was very good, though,” Nat says while putting on her clothes. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to ask for your number or when we’ll see each other again. So you don’t need to give me the spiel. I knew— know what this was.”

Evie laughs at the exaggerated wink Nat gives her. She feels a little lighter with relief at that.

“Can I use your bathroom, though? Before I go.”

“Yeah, it’s right through there.”

“Thanks.” Nat sends her a warm smile before slipping into the bathroom.

Evie lays back down and rubs her eyes. That was fucking weird, what the—

Her bathroom door flies open.

“What the fuck?” Natalie says, holding up Tito’s bread trimmer.

“What?”

“Do you have a boyfriend or something? Did you just fucking use me to cheat on someone?”

“No?” Evie sits up, confused.

“Don’t fucking lie to me. I was willing to overlook the men’s shoes and coat in your entryway; maybe they’re a friend’s. I was willing to overlook the sweatshirts and sweatpants strewn around your room. I figured maybe you just like being comfortable.”

“What?” she squeaks through the lump in her throat.

Nat powers through her interruption. “But there’s a fucking beard trimmer in there. Two toothbrushes. Two towels. A curly-defining gel that you definitely don’t use. And the—”

“No, you’re—”

“Are you honestly going to tell me you live here alone? What stupid fucking excuse are you going to give me, huh? This is a one-bedroom apartment, dude. Whoever’s shit this is, he's definitely not your roommate.”

Evie stares at her, stunned, mouth opening and closing.

“God, you know what. Save it. I don’t want to fucking know,” she says before storming out of the bedroom.

Evie hugs her knees in stunned silence, watching from her bed as Nat grabs her coat and shoes. She pleads with her brain for something to say and comes up empty.

Nat throws her one last dirty look, her face twisting in a scowl at her continued silence. “Seriously, fuck you, Gigi.”

The sound of the front door slamming makes Evie jump. She just sits there, staring into empty space for so long that she feels her butt go numb.

She flops back onto her bed, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes.

“What the fuck just happened?” she says to her empty room.

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godlizzza · 4 months

Note

Holiday prompt: teenage danbert where herbert gets to spend christmas eve/morning with dan's family?

Herbert woke on Christmas morning with Dan's hair in his mouth. Wrinkling his nose, he eased back and spat the brown strands out, squinting at the pale light filtering in between the crack in the curtains and slicing across his face. He tried to sit up back Dan squeezed him tighter, arms locked around Herbert's waist and keeping him firmly pressed against the mattress. Herbert glanced down at him and saw Dan's mouth quirk up at the corners.

He finally opened his brown eyes to look up at Herbert and say, "Merry Christmas."

It was the same thing he'd said last night at the stroke of twelve. He'd pestered him into staying up until midnight purely to wish him a happy Christmas the second he could. Herbert had found him as trying then as he did now, but he couldn't fight the swell of fondness that rose in his chest. It was all such a Dan thing to do.

"Merry Christmas to you too," he mumbled back, poking Dan's nose and smirking at his subsequent scowl. "Sleep well? Or were you too excited thinking of Santa to get any shut eye?"

"I slept amazing," Dan replied haughtily. "But only because I had my human body pillow to keep me company."

He ducked his head down and burrowed into Herbert's chest, nuzzling his sternum hard. Herbert squirmed and shoved at his head, but Dan held firm, hands raking down Herbert's back and slipping dangerously close to his sides. Herbert instantly went stiff and grabbed Dan's wrists, halting his hands before his treacherous fingers could slip beneath the fabric of his shirt.

"Don't you tickle me," he gasped desperately. "If you do, I can't be held responsible for my reflexes."

Dan rolled his eyes but his smile was still soft and syrupy, sweetened with remnants of sleep still sticking to him. "You and your sensitive nerves..."

He gently leaned in and pressed his lips to Herbert's collarbone, where the neck of his shirt dipped low enough to expose the skin of his chest. Herbert shivered at the contact and felt Dan smile against his skin.

"Sooo sensitive," Dan went on in a whisper, trailing his lips higher and kissing Herbert's neck.

Herbert hummed somewhere in the back of his throat, his hands coming to rest on Dan's shoulders. The trouble with sharing a bed with Dan was that they always inevitably wound up here: with Dan's hands and lips and on him, pressing him into the mattress. Herbert didn't dislike it, but he did think Dan could perhaps work on not being so predictable. He was warm though. Positively toasty, in fact. The heat of his body wafted up between them, caged in by the plush comforter and forming a cocoon around them. Herbert's eyes slipped shut as Dan pressed a kiss beneath his jaw and he basked in that warmth.

They didn't have long to indulge, however, before a light rapping came at the door. Herbert opened his eyes to watch Dan blink over his shoulder towards the knocking.

"Danny, Herbert," came the chipper voice of Dan's mother, Leanne, "Are you two up yet?"

"Yeah, Mom," Dan grumbled, releasing his octopus-like grip on Herbert and sitting up. He yawned and stretched, his joints popping with the motion. He sleepily scratched at the light trail of hair dusting his stomach and smacked his lips a couple of times. "We're up."

"Oh, good!" she chirped. "I'm making eggs. Herbert, dear? How would you like yours?"

"Scrambled, please," Herbert replied, reaching for his glasses on the bedside table."

"You got it. See you two in a minute."

Leanne's voice disappeared as her footsteps grew distant, heading towards the stairs. There had been a time when she may have swung the door open with less prompting. After one particularly close call when she had nearly walked in on the two of them making out on top of the sheets, Dan had apparently concocted some story that Herbert was exceedingly private and paranoid about people walking into his room unannounced. Ever since, Leanne had gone out her way to deliberately knock and not enter until Dan gave her the go-ahead. Herbert liked her that much more for it. He couldn't imagine his own mother ever being so considerate.

He followed Dan out of the cosy bed with some regret. He'd never been much of one for Christmas, so a day spent laying beneath a pile of warm blankets sounded just as good a way to spend Christmas day than anything else he could think of. But the Christmas aspect had been what Dan was so excited to have Herbert over for, so he supposed their itinerary was to be more than simply lazing about.

"You're sure this is okay?" Herbert asked, tugging at his pajama shirt as he and Dan padded down the stairs.

Dan glanced over his shoulder, eyes flicking down to catch Herbert fiddling with his buttons, and a grin spread across his face. "Of course, it's okay. You don't need formal dress for this. It's Christmas morning, not dinner at the royal palace."

Herbert frowned but didn't fight him on it. If walking around in his plaid pajamas and socks was okay by the Cain household, he supposed that was fine. It still felt unnatural and odd though. Discomfort prickled up his spine, the irrational fear that his grandfather would spring out from behind a potted plant and accuse him of being a slob itched at the base of his skull. He ignored it though as he and Dan descended the stairs and were welcomed by the smell of frying eggs.

Leanne turned from the stove and gave them a warm smile as they entered the living room. She wore a pink Santa hat and an apron embroidered with a smiling snowman over her nightdress. She waved her spatula at them as Dan tugged Herbert over towards the glimmering Christmas tree.

His father, Scott, was down on his knees, lighting the fireplace. The chopped logs and kindling lit, the fire crackling to life in the hearth. He sat back and clapped his hands together, sending a shower of soot raining down from his palms, onto the carpet. He was also wearing his pajama bottoms, but had on a truly gaudy Christmas sweater, decorated little flashing bulbs. He smiled as Dan excitedly sat down by the stack of presents beneath the pine's green branches.

"Morning, boys," Scott greeted in his usual booming voice. "Merry Christmas."

"Thank you," Herbert replied, slowly sinking down to sit beside Dan on the plush rug. "Merry Christmas to you as well."

Dan paused in his ogling of the wrapped presents to shoot a little smile at Herbert. Herbert just glared right back, daring him to say something. He always gave him grief for being what he called 'overly polite' to his parents, but Herbert had no idea how he was supposed to talk to them otherwise. He certainly couldn't pal around with them in the casual way Dan did. That would be...obscene.

"Ready for breakfast?" Scott asked.

"Dad," Dan whined. "Can't we do the presents first?"

"Daniel Jonathan Cain," Leanne chided as she shuffled into the living room, patting down her apron. "You haven't changed since you were a baby." She shot a sparkling smile at Herbert and said, "I used to have to hide his presents in the attic. If I left them under the tree, he'd sneak them away to his room and open them early."

Dan pouted, a blush colouring his cheeks. "I did that one time."

"One time too many," Leanne corrected, then settled down on the arm of the sofa. "But I think we can put Dan out of his misery and do the presents first."

Dan pumped his fist and scrambled to grab the nearest parcel; a small box wrapped in green paper, tied off with a silver ribbon. He shredded the paper apart, flinging the scraps over his shoulders and tearing the box open to reveal a baseball. Herbert frowned slightly at this. Sure, Dan liked baseball, but didn't he have balls already? What did he need with one more? His thoughts were interrupted by Dan's loud gasp. He clutched the box tightly in his hands and brought it an inch from his nose, his eyes wide as he examined it.

"Is that-?" Dan stammered. "Dennis Eckersley?" He lowered the box and stared in wonderment at his dad, who just smiled knowingly back. "You got me a ball signed by Dennis Eckersley? How?"

"Got your Uncle Marv to go to charity auction event for me. Told him to get whatever was best. Soon as he told me he got that ball, I knew you'd love it," Scott replied with a chuckle.

"I do love it," Dan said, hugging the ball tight to his chest. "Thanks, Dad."

Scott clapped Dan on the shoulder and squeezed. Herbert watched the interaction, his eyes glued to where Scott's fingers dug into the fabric of Dan's sweatshirt. When was the last time his father had touched him? Shown him affection? Spoken to him at all? He couldn't remember. Probably not for a long time. After all, conversing with his son would hardly fit in with the busy schedule Grandfather had made for him.

Herbert watched the Cains open several more presents after that: Leanne got Scott a new lawnmower, Dan gave his parents a framed photo of the three of them on some vacation they'd all taken together, Scott got Leanne concert tickets to a band Herbert had never heard of before, and Dan opened several more presents from his parents and extended family. Herbert observed it all from his comfy spot on the floor. It seemed like a scene out of a holiday movie, full of smiles, looks of fondness, and family cheer. With the warmth of the fireplace and the scraps of torn wrapping paper at his feet, Herbert felt cosy in a way he never had on Christmas before. His Christmases were usually spent doing his summer homework from his room, watching the snow fall outside and wondering if his mother would force him to accompany her to a charity dinner.

"This one's for you, Herbert dear."

Herbert's reverie popped like a soap bubble as he came back to himself and blinked at the silver polka-dotted parcel Leanne was holding out to him. He took it without thinking, then frowned down at it in confusion.

"For me?"

"Yes, of course!" Leanne said, her hands knitted together on her lap. "I knew I had to get you something as soon as I knew you'd be spending Christmas with us. It's such a shame you can't be with your own family this year, but I hope you feel at home with us, all the same."

His parents were actually spending Christmas together for once, though it was in France, without Herbert. His father was there for business reasons, and his mother had insisted she come along, though that invitation had not been extended to their son. It suited Herbert just fine- no stuffy dinners to attend with his mother, spent being paraded and ordered to play little ditties on the piano- but Dan had been appalled when he'd told him.

"You can't spend Christmas alone," Dan had insisted.

"I won't be alone," Herbert had replied. "Colette will be there."

Dan had rolled his eyes at this. "Your maid doesn't count. No. No way. You're coming over to my house, no questions asked."

In the present, Herbert blinked at the three faces pointed his way. That uncomfortable itch was back, scraping at the nape of his neck. He had to look away, tugging at a thread on his elbow.

"Thank you, but, um. I didn't get you anything," he admitted, to which Leanne waved him off.

"Don't you worry about that. I just saw this and knew you had to have it."

"Yeah," Scott agreed, one arm around his wife's shoulders. "Go ahead, Champ. Open it up."

Herbert's eyes sought Dan, who gave him an encouraging nod. Herbert swallowed down against the dryness in his throat and did just that, peeling back the paper until a bright sweater revealed itself. He picked it up and held it out before him, the knitted wool rolling down to reveal the image woven into the fabric.

"Oh, Mom, that's great," Dan said.

"I know!" Leanne squealed, slapping Scott's leg. "Isn't it just perfect for him?"

In the middle of the green sweater was a picture of Albert Einstein wearing a Santa hat. A chain of what looked like gingerbread men holding hands was knitted into the hem of the sweater, making a ring around the waist. The cuffs were white with little atom symbols embroidered around the circumference.

"It might be a little big on you, Hon, but that's okay," Leanne said.

Dan knocked his knee against Herbert's and nodded at the garment. "Put it on," he urged.

Herbert, not knowing what else to do, wordlessly obeyed. He pulled the sweater over his head, taking care to not let the woolen strands get caught on his glasses. He threaded his arms through the sleeves then stared down at Einstein peering out from his chest. Leanne beamed, watching for his reaction.

"Do you like it?" she asked.

Herbert nodded, trailing his fingers along the soft wool. "Yes, thank you."

Leanne clapped her hands together excitedly. In that moment, she greatly resembled Dan getting ready to tear into some presents.

"I'm so glad," she sighed, pressing a hand over her breast. Then, with a click of her tongue, she rose to her feet, Scott's arm slipping from her shoulders. "Now, come along, you boys. Your eggs are getting cold."

"Yes, Maam," Scott grunted as he pushed himself from the sofa and followed after her.

He ruffled Dan's hair, earning him a cry of protest from his son, and patted Herbert's shoulder. Herbert stared at that hand on his shoulder, Scott's hand big and rough from a career spent toiling in gardens. His touch was there only for a moment, gone in a second, as though he hadn't even thought about the action at all. He paced after his wife, leaving Herbert and Dan alone by the tree.

Dan waited until his parents' voices grew faint as they entered the kitchen before turning to Herbert and speaking softly. "Well? How're you liking your first real Christmas morning?"

"Good," Herbert replied, fiddling with the hem of his sweater. "There are slightly less singing snowmen and elves than I'd anticipated, but this is still very nice."

Dan's eyebrows bumped up towards his hairline. "What kind of movies have you been watching? Without me?" When Herbert made a big show of shrugging innocently, Dan's expression broke into a grin and he ducked his chin down. Leaning forward, he murmured into Herbert's ear, "For what it's worth, I'm really happy your here. Everything's way better when you're around."

Herbert had to press his lips into a straight, hard line to keep them from doing something stupid, like tilting into a lopsided, lovesick smile. That's what being in love with Dan was like though: sickening.

"I'm glad too," was all he replied with, but Dan's smile didn't dim.

"After breakfast, we can go sledding," he said, then nodded at the window. "Look. It's snowing."

Herbert turned and saw that Dan was right. Some time since they'd woken up, snow had begun to gently fall from the sky, adding to the piles of chilly white clumps blanketing the ground. The outside world looked like a giant hand had coated everything with glittering frosting. Children were already racing out of their homes, padded in layers of coats and scarves, to build snowmen and throw snowballs at each other. Just watching them made draw his knees up to his chest and bask in the bubble of warmth that was the Cain living room.

Dan pressed a hand to Herbert's back as they both watched the neighbourhood children play. He could feel that Dan wanted to do more- hug or embrace him- but with his parents only in the next room, it was impossible. Herbert cherished that hand though, leaned back against Dan's touch, simply luxuriating in him being so near.

"That sounds like fun," Herbert said, and Dan laughed.

Maybe he could learn to love Christmas if he could spend them all like this.

#well. this got a little longer than i intended lol #hope you like it though!#teen danbert #danbert #glad i could get this out on christmas eve hehe #dan cain #herbert west #re-animator #reanimator #my fics #asks #writing prompt

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invincible-selfxmade-punk · 6 months

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Happy Dia de los Muertos!

I have been celebrating for about 15 years & have had altars in my room in one form or another.

The house that we are in right now has very deep window sills and there is one window in my room so that is where my altar is.

It's looking pretty ragged and I am trying to revamp it but did not have the money to completely do everything I wanted by the time this year's holiday rolled around. Because of how hard the wind blows here unless it is in a heavy frame pictures do not fare well. So I have started Gathering knick knacks to represent the people that I am remembering. Again this is a little costly and I did not get a chance to get everything up that I wanted to in time.

Every year no matter what, my dad gets a can or a bottle of Coor's beer. So I will be picking that up after school.

The altar is also the perfect perch for my cat who really does not appreciate all the extra stuff that she has to skirt around in order to get a view out the window.

Remembering Mom and dad, Mimi and grandpa, Terri and Jim, LeAnn and Austin, Jeannie, Margo and her unborn son, Kim, Ben, Tommy & Lil Mike, The Rev. Tholomew Plague, Aaron's uncle, Tina, Anahi

#day of the dead #dia de los muertos

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ginger-grimm · 5 months

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🦙 + sweet Sabine? 🩷

THANK YOU @daughter-of-melpomene! Also tagging @luucypevensie and @dancingsunflowers-ocs!

Their go-to song to cry to: Stay by Shakespears Sister

Their love language: Quality time

Their favorite holiday movie: Christmas Vacation

Their pettiest moment: Oh, a lot with Sabby, but I think one of the pettiest moments I can think of right now is openly reveling when Santana is demoted to the bottom of the pyramid in season 2 because she still hasn't forgiven her for the relentless bullying just yet

Their favorite 60s song: Stand By Me by Ben E. King

Their nicknames: Sab, Sabby, Bee

Their go-to karaoke song: Can't Fight The Moonlight by LeAnn Rimes (she always ends up dancing on a bar/table by the end of the song)

A color you associate with them: Purple

An event from their Prom night: During the afterparty, Sabine gets so downright wasted that she ends up having Wyatt (who is acting as the sober sister) drive her a couple of towns over so she can steal the mascot of a Frat she had gotten into a fight with. She wakes up the next morning on the 50-yard line with a goat nomming on the grass field next to her.

Their favorite wild animal: Wolves

#answered #oc: sabine mitchell

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desertdollranch · 1 year

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Good thing you checked your mailbox today, because you’ve just received a Christmas card from Grannie and her family! It’s becoming a holiday tradition for them.

She’s pictured here with her daughter Kendra, and with her grandchildren: J.J. (11 years old), Sierra (10), Leanne (9), Willa (6), Evelyn (2), Seth (baby), and Boulder (dog)! I made all the kids’ sweaters.

#doll family #grannie #christmas card

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sarahlancashire · 7 months

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nine people you would like to know better (tagged by @sophiedevreaux, thank you so much 💖)

3 ships: i'm obsessed with so many but shira and hannah (harlan coben's shelter) have consumed my soul in recent weeks; and despite everything that's happened my brain is permanently rotting over ros and leanne (shortland street) and bernie and serena (holby city)

first ever ship: i'm not sure, but i think it was luke and lorelai (gilmore girls)

last song: i?? don't know?? i haven't really chosen any of the music i've heard for a week or so bc we were just listening to audiobooks in the car while we were away; but we went to a café that was playing loco in acapulco by the four tops (why. why would you do that) so that's been in my head ever since then (kindly think about the consequences of ur actions the twisted currant café in porthleven)

last movie: well, i rewatched zootopia; the last one that i hadn't seen before was bolt (i was staying in an air b.&b. where children lived from wednesday until yesterday. many disney films were consumed)

currently reading: i read the new catherine alliott (the pink house) book i bought to take on holiday with me in three days (catherine alliott is a genius and one of my most favourite authors of all time; her books are SO fun and set in lovely idyllic places but also gripping and full of dark secrets and twists and i've been obsessed with them since i first borrowed my mum's copy of rosie meadows regrets ... when i was about fourteen) so now i'm rereading why mummy swears (the first sequel to why mummy drinks) by gill sims, partly bc i want to read worthy and improving tomes but just end up reading the same comfort books all the time; and partly to refresh my memory of it before i read the subsequent sequels. also i got a new liane moriarty (apples never fall) in a charity shop (it cost fifty pence. i love u cornwall) while i was away, so i'm planning to start that soon (i may not have got round to watching big little lies yet but part of the reason for that is that i'm in so love with the book and i'm scared to spoil it)

currently watching: i've just watched harlan coben's shelter (along with good omens and the third series of ted lasso) and i only got home from holiday yesterday (also it was a very long journey and a hellish day, for various reasons) so i'm not in the right frame of mind to start anything else yet, i've been playing stardew valley and watching judge judy in the meantime

currently consuming: a can of coca-cola (snap alfonsina!!)

currently craving: i'm really too tired to crave anything other than coca-cola rn, and i've got one of those, so that's nice

tagging @juliewlters, @alisonscotlock, @moxyphinx, @notprincehamlet, @lesleymanville, @loveindiravarma, @pea-green, @horriblycheerful, @swanqueens (feel free to ignore!!)

#i actually tagged nine people!!!!!!! are you proud of me #i feel that deserves an “i've been brave” sticker tbh #PERHAPS i already know some of the people i tagged extremely well #(i'm just imagining eve; lizzie; and shawna seeing this and being like?? what more is there to know??? lmao)#but that doesn't mean i don't want to know them even better does it #i answered in a lot more detail than i intended to oops. sorry about that.#but i did reveal quite a lot about myself which i suppose was the point of this exercise so on that basis you're welcome #just shut up @ me #about me #meme

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buckets-and-trees · 1 year

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Christmas Eve Eve [Bucky x Reader]

Fandom: MCU

Characters/Pairings: Bucky x gn!Reader, background Sam + family

Word Count: 1.1k

Summary: Just a Christmas Eve Eve. Nothing special or dramatic, and yet that’s the beauty of it.

Content Warnings: fluff, and be careful not to knock over the blanket fort!, fluff for the sake of fluff

Additional Notes: Woke up, wanted to give Bucky some soft fluffy holiday time this morning, thought about it while I was getting ready to go visit fam for the holidays, wrote it. Thus bloomed this fifth installment of the 2022 Holiday Extravaganza.

A/N 2: Also, just … decided I wanted Sam to have an adorable little family sitch going on because SAM WILSON DESERVES THE WORLD! And of course he’s the best dad and dotes on his kids with any moments he can have with them, and of course loves hard on his queen of a wife. OKAY THAT’S ALL.

A/N 3: I know there are quite a few new faces since posting my Namor fic... and this is NOT that, hahaha. I wanted some soft holiday fluff for Bucky, but I also needed to just take a gentle jaunt after putting my whole ovarios into that fic last night hahaha.

A high-pitched squeal broke into tiny giggles and then a mini human with fluffy hair came running madly past Bucky in the hallway, her father chasing after her, warning how he’s going to capture the toddling little girl and take her away for bath time.

Bucky stopped as he rounded the corner to the living room and leaned against the entryway, taking in the scene before him. Sam had trapped little Leanne on the couch and was smothering her with tickles and kisses while she squirmed in delight, clearly not wanting to escape her daddy’s attention. Closer to the Christmas tree, a modest but impressive blanket fort had been erected. You were hunkered within its cozy walls reading a book with five-year-old Terrence pressed up against your side and a small mountain of books still waiting next to him.

“Samuel!” Janelle blustered in from behind him. “I know you’re doing your daddy thing, but we’ve got to keep things moving tonight!”

“I am but here to do your bidding, my queen,” he said, immediately scooping Leanne up.

“How you manage to save the world when you can’t manage to get this girl to her bath time and bed is beyond me.”

“Maybe I’ll have to try again with my other girl later tonight,” Sam quipped back, planting a quick kiss on his wife’s cheek as he walked past.

Janelle laughed and swatted him away. “If we ever get to bed tonight! You know what we’ve got to tackle later.”

“It’s why I brought in reinforcements, babe,” he called over his shoulder, already on his way to the bathroom.

“You don’t have to take a bath tonight, but you’re going to be next, young man,” she said, pinning Terrence with her motherly stare.

“But it’s Christmas Eve Eve! Can’t I stay up?”

“You know Santa’s still watching to make sure you’re a good boy, he hasn’t packed up all the presents in his sleigh yet.”

“Just five more books!”

“Five?” she exclaimed.

Bucky tried to keep a straight face as your eyes met and he saw you were trying not to shake too much with your own silent laughter.

“Because I’m five!”

“How many books have you two already read tonight?”

“Um… just some. She does the best voices!”

“Aw, thank you,” you said, squeezing his little shoulder as your arm was wrapped around him.

He grinned up at you, then turned his face back to his mom. “Please.”

“One more.”

“Four more?”

Janelle pressed her lips together, but had a soft twinkle in her eye. “Tell you what, you were such a good helper with your sister earlier today, if you go run and put on your pajamas and brush your teeth, you can come back and read three more books if–“

“If?” he eagerly hangs on the condition.

“If it’s okay with y/n.”

Terrence looked up at you again.

Bucky loved seeing that easy and eager smile on your face. “You go brush those teeth like nobody’s business, and I’ll be waiting right here! Maybe Bucky will even read with us when you get back.”

“I’ll be so fast!” Terrence said, jumping up and darting out of the room.

“Thank you,” Janelle sighed, sinking down on the couch for a moment. “Both of you.”

“Like Sam said,” Bucky chimed in, “we’re reinforcements tonight. Happy to help with anything you need.”

“Mostly it’s just that marathon of present wrapping as soon as both the kids are asleep, but if you’re good to read to Terrence until Sam gets Leanne down and can come put Terrence to bed, I actually need to call my mom to confirm their travel plans coming in tomorrow?”

“Of course!” you answered. “Even though I do the best voices, Bucky and I are both excellent readers. Take care of whatever you need to.”

“You really are helping more than you know,” Janelle said, smiling warmly at both of you as she went into the other room.

Bucky moved closer, and you held your hand out to pull him down and into the fort with you. He had to be careful as he settled in among the pillows and blankets, his big frame only just fitting in the cozy structure. As he leaned back into the mountain of fluff piled up against the wall, you cuddle up next to him, and he hummed happily as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

“Hey!” Terrence ran back into the room at full speed, pulling up full stop only a foot away from the entrance to the fort. “You took my spot!”

“We’ll make room for my favorite godson,” Bucky said. “Don’t you ever worry about that.”

With a little jostling around, the three of you fit snugly together and got to reading, Terrence sandwiched between you. A whole seven books later – to Terrence’s delight – the young Wilson was ultimately taken away for his own bedtime with Sam. Then the table in the kitchen got converted to Santa’s wrapping headquarters, Bucky and you assisting to bring in presents from the strategic hiding places, pulling out the paper, tape, ribbons, tags, and bows. The marathon truly did last for hours, the last gift finally wrapped just a little after midnight, but the laughter and conversation between all of you as friends made the time and the task go by easily.

You held Bucky’s hand on the drive back to your apartment, the two of you singing along to the radio on and off as some of the melodies drew you in.

You collapsed into bed, and Bucky followed, though you dropped off to sleep almost immediately, and Bucky was up a little longer, his mind buzzing over the day – Christmas Eve Eve with the Wilsons.

Bucky’s had a fair few holiday seasons that have been filled with this kind of warmth and joy. The first had felt unreal and undeserved, but with each holiday – with each everything over the years – he’s becoming more and more natural at just living life. He’s pracitally reveling in the beauty of the normal and the special, forgotten dreams from his 40’s self, the things he never thought about as the Winter Soldier, didn’t think he deserved after escaping that life, but realizing he can have now that he’s really and truly him again. It was the first time doing the holidays this way, and only his second Christmas with you. He wants more of this – the normal and the special firsts, seconds, thirds and more of everything. When he turns on his side, studying the familiar silhouette of you next to him, he knows who he wants more nights of laughter, kisses, conversation, and living life with, too.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

#aspen wrote something #aspen's holiday extravaganza #ahe 2022 #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #fluffy bucky #holiday fluff #bucky barnes x gn!reader

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