#Cabin Pressure Secret Santa

[c-e-d-dreamer]

'Tis the Damn Season - Part One

A/N: Surprise, bestie! Did you guess t'was I as your Secret Santa? @xxvalkyriesxx 😉 I hope you're ready for angst and pain this holiday season, just as you ordered up! There will be plenty of yearning and idiots in love to be found here, and we'll even keep to the Nessian Formula(tm). @acotargiftexchange

Read on AO3 // Next Part

One Year Ago

“I need to talk to you.”

He watched as she paused halfway to zipping up her boot, watched as a frown tug down her lips and a little crease formed between her eyebrows where they dipped close together. He hated when that look took over her face. He wished he could erase it with a drag of his thumb across her bottom lip. He wished he could draw back out that soft smile and maybe even a fond roll of her blue eyes.

But the pressure that began building between his ribs after he got the text that morning threatened to twist even tighter around his lungs.

“Can’t it wait?” Nesta sighed, standing back up and stepping into his space. “Tonight is going to be hard enough.”

“I know,” Cassian whispered, his hands settling easily at her waist. Where they always belong, if you asked him.

“I just… I need to know you’ll have my back. That it will be you and me tonight.”

Cassian tilted his head down enough that his forehead rested against her own, letting his eyes fall closed. He focused on the feel of Nesta’s body against his own, beneath his hands. He focused on the sweet, familiar scent of her perfume. And when he opened his eyes again, he focused on every shade of blue and gray that make up her own. Memorized it. Kept it all tucked close to his heart.

“You and me, Nes. Always.”

~ * * * ~

Today

Cassian takes a deep breath in, letting the air out again with a soft sigh that seems to rattle through his lungs. His fingers flex against the steering wheel, and he drops his head down to rest against his knuckles. He knows that he can’t hide out in his truck forever, knows that despite the desire prickling in the back of his mind, he can’t just turn around and drive back home.

His family would see through any sort of feigned sickness in an instant. He’s always been a terrible liar; not that the truth of that counted for much when it mattered most. And being the owner of his gym means that using work as an excuse holds even less weight. There is truly no escaping what awaits him inside the cabin, and it’s time for him to face the music.

Even if he has no idea what he’ll say.

He’s certainly mulled it over, even dared to rehearse how the conversation might go in his mind. Those thoughts often come to him late at night. In the dark and the safety of his bedroom, he’ll roll over in his bed, hand sliding against the cool sheets. With his eyes closed, he can imagine a too familiar scent still clinging to the fabric, warm smooth skin beneath his palm. He can imagine soft spoken words shared in the breaths between.

He can imagine whispered apologies.

Sighing again, Cassian finally pushes open the door and slides out of his truck. He grabs his duffel bag and swings it easily over his shoulder, following the large paving stones up to the cabin’s front door. It’s reminiscent of standing on another front porch, just a year ago, the memory still burning bright in the back of Cassian’s mind, the wound still prickling across his skin like a nasty scar time can’t heal. He can feel darkness twining between his ribs and sinking claws into his lungs, into his still bruised heart, and he has to close his eyes and swallow hard against the ache.

As soon as she pressed the bell, the sound echoing through the house around them, Cassian squeezed her hand tighter. Desperate to keep her right here, right by his side. The pressure was enough to draw her attention to him, the confusion clear in the tilt of her head, the slight dip of her brow.

“You and me. Right?”

Something must have shown on his face, her frown only growing. “Of course. You and me.”

“Promise?”

“Cassian!”

Cassian opens his eyes again and is greeted by a pair of bright blue ones. With a wide, easy smile, Feyre steps back from the now open door, allowing Cassian to step inside. He does his best to plaster on a grin of his own, stepping into the front entryway, noting the garland and ribbon already decorating the space.

“How was the drive?” Feyre asks, closing the door behind him.

“Not too bad. I beat the fresh snow that seems to be blowing in, at least.”

Laughter echoes from deeper within the cabin, drifting toward the entryway like a warm, summer breeze. In an instant, Cassian’s eyes drift over Feyre’s shoulder and toward that sound, his ears perking up. But it’s not quite right, not quite the soft melody that still haunts his dreams.

“She’s not here yet,” Feyre tells him quietly.

“Who?”

Feyre settles him with an unimpressed look, clearly seeing right through the drawling question. She crosses her arms and raises a brow, the twist of her lips so familiar and yet so different. It takes everything within Cassian not to flinch or fidget beneath her scrutiny, but Feyre merely shakes her head, something like fond annoyance coloring the gesture, as she turns her attention toward the large central staircase of the cabin.

“We have you in the room all the way at the end of the hall. Hope that’s alright.”

“Always.”

Cassian leans in, pressing a smacking kiss to Feyre’s cheek, before bounding up the stairs, desperate to steal at least a few moments of peace before facing the masses. The room at the end of the hall is simple, wood paneling along the walls and a double bed in the center of the space. He tosses his duffel bag atop the blankets, walking around the bed and to the windows. It offers him a view of the front of the cabin, the driveway, but there’s no sign of a red Chevy Malibu yet.

”Really? This is your car?” Cassian asked, tapping the hood of the car with his palm.

“What is that supposed to mean?” she huffed, shoving his hand off her car.

“Oh, come on. I’ve never seen anyone under the age of sixty driving a Malibu.”

“Yeah, well, we can’t all be rednecks driving beat up pickup trucks.”

Cassian laughed easily at the jab, his grin only growing when he noticed the spark that seemed to flare through the icy blues of her eyes. Gods, she was beautiful, especially like this.Cassian’s being an idiot, that’s what he’d name this look. Her lips pinched together, and he knew he had her, knew she was trying her best to hold back a smile of her own. And mother save him, he wanted to make her smile.

He wanted so many things. With her.

So he pressed a solemn, dramatic hand to his chest. “Redneck? Really? I think you owe me an apology now, sweetheart.”

“You cannot be serious.”

“How’s drinks sound? Tomorrow night?”

Cassian squeezes his eyes shut against the memory, against the memory of watching that same red Chevy Malibu drive away from him for the last time. Already, he can feel a lump threatening to form in his throat. He presses and rubs the heel of his hand against his sternum, against the ache sinking in with icy claws, against his bruised and battered heart.

He can hear footsteps and voices coming down the hall, and he dares to creep closer toward the bedroom door. There’s a low chuckle, a deep murmur of a voice that Cassian doesn’t quite recognize, but the sound that follows is all too familiar. It’s little more than a quiet snort of breath, but the grin it draws across Cassian’s face is practically second nature, the skip of his heart practically reflexive.

He still remembers the first time he heard that sound, still remembers the first time he was the cause of it. He’d chased it, desperate to hear it again and again, desperate to bottle it up and get drunk off its sweetness. He still remembers when that sound had morphed into something more, into a true laugh that was unabashed and unguarded, light and melodic and the most beautiful song Cassian had ever heard.

“I think it’s this room.”

Cassian jumps back just in time to avoid getting a full face of wood. The door to his guest bedroom for the weekend swings open with little warning, and a red haired man stands in the doorway looking just as surprised as Cassian feels, one eyebrow arching high above the man’s amber eyes. It takes a few blinks before recognition dawns on Cassian. Even with the paler skin, the resemblance is clear, the matching shade of red unmistakable despite the strands being shorter.

Lucien’s half-brother. The eldest Vanserra.

“Or… not…” Eris remarks awkwardly, turning his head to the left and making a face.

Cassian shifts his own attention in the same direction and comes face to face with a pair of icy blue eyes that he used to know like the back of his hand. They seem to flare as soon as Cassian’s gaze connects with them, just the sight of that flickering flame sparking an answering fire in his veins. But this isn’t one of their games, another round of their back and forth. There’s no fond amusement in her expression, not even a whisper of the softness he so loved to draw out. Instead, there’s nothing but tension hiding in those blue eyes, in the pinch of her lips.

Only a sadness that seems to cling to the corners.

It’s too reminiscent of the last time he saw her, too much of a punch straight to the gut all over again.

The ground was cold and hard beneath his feet, frozen grass crunching with every step as he chased after her. “Nesta, wait!”

His long legs, the long stride of his gait, made it easy to catch her right before she could reach her car parked along the road, but Cassian almost wished he hadn’t when Nesta whirled back around on him. The blues of her eyes blazed, but it wasn’t only rage crystallizing amongst the ice there, but pain.

Betrayal.

Her shoulders hitched up toward her ears, her spine pin straight as though she was preparing for battle. With her lips pinched into a scowl, the look reminded him too much of when he very first met her, and he hated it. Hated that it was directed at him. Hated that he was the reason all the softness and peace she had found, that he had spent so long drawing out, was gone again in the blink of an eye.

“Nesta,” Cassian pleaded softly, his heart lurching right from his chest and into her awaiting palms.

“I can’t believe you,” Nesta seethed, shaking her head. “You were Rhysand’s brother this whole time? This whole time you knew who I was?”

“I didn’t at first, I swear.”

“What, did they send you to check up on me? Did you report back with my every move? Everything I told you? Was it fodder for your little family dinner parties?”

“No! I would never do that,” Cassian promised. He took a step closer to her, hands reaching, but Nesta was quick to yank her own hands out of his reach, to step back further away from him. The reflex sent cracks cutting deeper still through Cassian’s chest.

“Gods, I knew you were too good to be true. How does it feel? Knowing you’ve been with Feyre’s awful big sister?” Nesta let out a cold, humorless laugh, crossing her arms across her body as though holding herself together with the gesture. When she spoke again, her voice was little more than a whisper. “I trusted you. I told you everything. I–”

Nesta didn’t finish the thought. She merely shook her head again and turned away from him completely, digging out the keys to her car and unlocking the door. He was losing her. She hadn’t even driven away yet, and already the distance between them was a yawning void, and Cassian was desperate to cross it, desperate to grasp onto those fraying ends and draw her back into him. To make her understand.

So he rushed forward, catching the car door before she could close it. “Nesta, please. Let’s just talk, okay? I know you. I know you’re thinking all the worst case scenarios, and I need you to know it was never like any of that. Everything we had, everything I feel, it was all real. We’re real.”

“Cassian–”

“I know I messed up. I know I’m an idiot. But let me fix this. We can fix this.”

“Cassian,” Nesta sighed, not quite meeting his gaze. “Let go of the door. I’m leaving.”

Cassian’s fingers flexed, a lump pressing in against his throat and threatening to suffocate him. “Just for now or… or is this it for us?” The silence that hung in the space between them felt like answer enough, that lump quickly turning into a stone that sunk deep into Cassian’s gut. “I love you, okay? I at least need you to know that. Because I do know you, and I know you think no one ever can or that you don’t deserve it. I know how your mind is going to spin this. But I do. So much. No matter what.”

Cassian held his breath as he waited. Waited for her to say something. Waited for her to at least look at him. But instead, Nesta tugged on the door again, Cassian’s grip going lax beneath the pressure.

“Goodbye, Cassian.”

“Cassian.”

Just his name falling past her lips again has a shiver skittering down Cassian’s spine. Although perhaps it feels more like a bucket of ice water. His heart skips a beat in his chest, lungs squeezing taught enough to steal his breath. She looks just as beautiful as Cassian remembers, even with the clipped, awkward tone and those closed off blue eyes.

Her hair is braided and twisted back in her usual updo, and Cassian’s fingers twitch with the urge to drag through those golden brown strands. He wonders if she still keeps her pins in the exact same places, if he could tug them all free until those strands fall softly and beautifully down her back and around her shoulders. He always loved when she wore her hair down. Always loved to see her so beautifully undone, that she trusted him enough to let down her armor.

“Nesta,” Cassian breathes, swallowing hard around the lump pressing against his throat. “It’s good to see you.”

Despite his words, her expression doesn’t change, and she doesn’t offer any sort of response. Clearly, she doesn’t share the sentiment. Cassian supposes that he deserves that, but it stings nonetheless. As the silence continues to stretch between them, the tension in the room only seems to rise, prickling across Cassian’s skin like nails.

“Well, sorry to have barged into your room,” Eris offers, clearing his throat and readjusting the strap of the bag on his shoulder. “Come on, babes.”

He turns on his heel, striding out of Cassian’s guest room and across the hall. Nesta is quick to follow behind him, and Cassian can do nothing but watch her walk away from him yet again, Eris’s words still echoing in his ears and clanging through his mind. Babe.

He never thought to ask Feyre if Nesta might be bringing someone to the cabin for the weekend. If she might be seeing someone new. He supposes he has no right to really be surprised. It has been a year after all. But the disappointment still claws Cassian’s already bruised heart to ribbons. Maybe he really is a fool, imagining what could happen, what he hoped might happen on the entire drive up the mountain.

What might happen when he finally saw Nesta again after all this time. What might happen if they finally got a chance to properly talk. How he finally might make things up to her the way she deserves. How she might finally forgive him.

But instead she’s here, with Eris, and the only thing Cassian is sure of is that it’s going to be a very very long weekend.

—

2025 tag list (let me know if you want to be added or removed; bolded names mean Tumblr won't let me tag you 🥲): @moodymelanist @sv0430 @bookstantrash @hiimheresworld @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @glowing-stick-generation @goddess-aelin @melphss @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @wolfnesta @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @that-little-red-head @kale-theteaqueen @superflurry @lady-winter-sunrise @freakingata @susanbanarchy @jsmelodies @unhealthyfanobsession @presskmewleroux @nativeswfl @livinforthetea @dying-of-wanderlust @berkskc @the-new-ribbon @underneath-the-sidras @deadandsane

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | December 11th-18th 2023

🎵 It's beginning to look a lot like Christmaaaaaaas 🎵

If you guys have any Christmas buddie fics to recommend, drop them in the comments!

Also, I see your reblogs, your tags and your comments, and I really appreciate them! 😊

Complete

We might end up real close by thewolvesof1998 / @thewolvesof1998 (S2E1: Under Pressure, PWP | 2K | Explicit): “Said you wanted us to bond. We might end up real close.” When Buck said those words to Bobby just merely few hours ago, it had been a joke about how if the bomb went off they would be reduced to blood, shards of bone and flesh, mixed so together that you wouldn’t be able to tell them apart without DNA testing. He hadn’t meant it in the way that it was now true with Eddie balls deep in him as he fucks Buck against the tile wall of the firehouse showers, both of them still fully dressed, uniform pants undone and pulled only down to mid-thigh in their haste.

in the moonlight you look just like an angel in disguise by smilingbuckley/ @smilingbuckley (Post-S6, Cabin fic | 35K | Mature): While Christopher is at camp, Buck and Eddie go on a vacation of their own to a small cabin in the woods... It goes as well as you'd expect.

got nothing but love for you (fall more in love every day) by smilingbuckley/ @smilingbuckley (S6, Secret Relationship | 6K | Mature): 5 times Buck and Eddie are almost caught + 1 time they are

this is a place where I feel at home by smilingbuckley/ @smilingbuckley (Buck&Bobby | 1K | General): After watching parents mourn the loss of their children, the 118 go to check up on their children. And Bobby... he's staring at Buck, and Buck is confused.

something 'bout the time of the year by smilingbuckley/ @smilingbuckley (Christmas, Getting Together | 20K | Teen): “We need to talk,” Eddie looks up from his phone to see Christopher standing in the kitchen doorway with his arms crossed, his crutches leaning against the wall beside him. “That doesn’t sound good,” Eddie teases and locks his phone, “What about.” “Buck,” Christopher answers and walks over to the table, sitting down in front of Eddie. “He always tries to make Christmas happy for others. Aunt Maddie said they didn’t celebrate it when they were kids. We need to give him the best Christmas this year.” “You have a plan?” (Part 1 of The Diaz Christmas Experience)

want your love in every flavor by smilingbuckley/ @smilingbuckley (PWP | 2K | Explicit): After getting together and Buck promising he'll stay the rest of the month at the Diaz house, they go back to his loft to pack. But the excitement of finally being together gets them distracted. (Part 2 of The Diaz Christmas Experience)

Santa Baby by smilingbuckley/ @smilingbuckley (PWP | 2K | Explicit): Buck has to be aware of what the Santa suit did to him. And to the single mothers visiting, his mind supplies, and his fingers tighten their hold on the steering wheel. He hates when he gets jealous. Maybe it’s not jealousy, because he knows Buck would never flirt back or something. But he feels something when he sees those moms bat their eyes at him, probably imagining taking the sexy Santa home. But, he thinks, I am taking this sexy Santa home. (Part 3 of The Diaz Christmas Experience)

happy new year by smilingbuckley/ @smilingbuckley (Established Buddie, NYE | 2K | Teen): It's quite magical to actually have fireworks around them as they kiss. Buck had always felt them, imagined them in a very cartoony way. Now it’s real. The ground shakes slightly underneath his feet with the loud rumbles. The lights flicker against his closed eyelids. And Eddie’s mouth is warm and loving against his. (Part 4 of The Diaz Christmas Experience)

merle said mama tried, but the prison still won by oklahoma/ @malewifediaz (Christmas, Getting Together | 3K | Teen): Eddie goes to (mall) jail.

Of Love, Hospital Jitters And Christmas Lights by callmenewbie/ @callmenewbie (Established Buddie, Hurt Chris | 6K | Teen): Eddie and Buck end up in the hospital waiting room a few days before Christmas

to wake up by your side is all I wanna do by smilingbuckley/ @smilingbuckley (Living Together, FWB | 14K | Mature): After a fire destroys his loft, Buck moves in with the Diazes indefinitely. Except neither he, Christopher, nor Eddie wants him to move out. Buck gets used to being fully included in the Diaz family and the changes it brings to be with them full-time. It's a dream come true, especially when things between him and Eddie start developing in a certain way.

when your world is on fire by smilingbuckley/ @smilingbuckley (Established Buddie, Hurt Eddie | 6K | Teen): The 118 responds to what should be a normal house fire only to find out that one of their own is stuck inside and believed to be dead.

it's so dark tonight (but you'll survive certainly) by lemonzestywrites/ @lemonzestywrites (S5E6 Speculation | 5K | Teen): Eddie struggles with the aftermath of being held hostage and Buck is there to help keep him from crashing.

when it rains in california by lemonzestywrites/ @lemonzestywrites (Getting Together | 4K | General): The minutes pass, and the rain falls with a scattered tapping on the ground. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had seen it rain like this in LA, quiet and calming, leaving a nice undisturbed haze across the city skies. He wants to bask in it, even for a moment. Well...maybe not in the rain. Buck’s more than okay watching it afar from the awning in Eddie’s backyard.

temptation comes from wants we cannot yet claim by lemonzestywrites/ @lemonzestywrites (Coma Eddie | 8K | Teen): He thinks back to waking up with Buck in bed beside him, of family breakfast and lazy morning ins. All of that sounds…it sounds wonderful. Perfect even. And of course, he’d want it here. Here where he can experience these things. And even for a fraction of a second let his mind wander and believe it’s real. Even when it’s not. He knows he shouldn’t- can’t. But God, Eddie wants. He wants, and he wants- “You could stay here.”

can't make it stop, give me all you got by 42hrb/ @exhuastedpigeon (PWP | 4K | Explicit): Eddie and Buck fuck in a club at Pride

men made of stone and forged in fire (even you deserved to be so softly loved) by lemonzestywrites/ @lemonzestywrites (First Kiss | 5K | Teen): A quiet night in and a hand running through his hair, those two simple things usually don't do much to phase the average person. But Eddie is a different story.

share this hour of make-believe by fleetinghearts/ @shitouttabuck (Quarantine, Pre-S4 | 1K | General): or, quarantine finds eddie sharing a bed with a pillow-thief and sleep-talker. he minds less than he thinks.

all i want for christmas by lemonzestywrites/ @lemonzestywrites (Christmas, Proposal | 3K | Teen): Eddie decides to finally pop the question to Buck, but his proposal doesn’t go quite as he planned.

jadeite hearts could never cost this much by lemonzestywrites/ @lemonzestywrites (Getting Together | Teen): Eddie and Buck spend their first night together after their first kiss. Adorable fluff ensues.

exactly what you were looking for by lemonzestywrites/ @lemonzestywrites (Established Buddie, Proposal | 3K | Teen): While washing the dishes, Eddie comes to a gentle revelation.

a two inch difference by lemonzestywrites/ @lemonzestywrites (Getting Together | 3K | Teen): The height difference between Buck and Eddie is only two inches, which isn't a significant one by any means- until it is.

🔥 the last shred of truth in the lost myth of true love by lemonzestywrites/ @lemonzestywrites (Friends With Benefits, Post-S6E13 | 25K | Explicit): “If…If you’re really curious about if you’re still good at sex, you can practice,” he says slowly, partly from nerves and also because Eddie is still unsure if he should even say it at all. But once again, self-preservation is only a few steps too slow, and Eddie rips the bandaid off before he can rethink it all. “With me.”

Hold Me Close and Hold Me Fast by giselleslash (Post-Lightning strike | 5K | General): Buck dies and Eddie knows he needs to finally let go of the fear that’s been keeping him from telling Buck everything, because that fear is nothing compared to seeing Buck suspended in the sky far from his reach and lost to him. He’s going to bring Buck home.

Be My Baby by elless (Established Buddie | 1,6K | Explicit): Buck and Eddie enjoy some time alone. And maybe take an important step forward in their relationship.

🔥 dream sweet of me by spaceprincessem/ @spaceprincessem (Dimension Travel | 16K | Teen): buck is in an accident and wakes up in a universe where the 118 don't know who he is

you were the wilderness I crossed into by rowan_wood/ @transboybuckley (Post-Coma, Getting Together | 9K | Teen): or: the 118 has a 24 hour shift, and zero calls. The firefam spends it playing games, and everyone takes the opportunity to tell Buck just how much they love him. (Part 1 of bottle episode)

blind hope's my home by rowan_wood/ @transboybuckley (Fluff & Smut | 5K | Explicit): or: the first day of Buck and Eddie's new life. They fuck, they dance, they fall even more in love. (Part 2 of bottle episode)

WIP

🔥 Precious & Fragile Things by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Small Miracles AU, Angel Buck | 10K | 4/? | Teen): Buck is the Fallen Angel of Petty Temptation, who has been tasked with tempting human Eddie Diaz to sin and enjoy life, but just a little. He thinks the job will be easy - get in, get out, go back to Peru to continue messing around with eternity. But when Buck arrives in Los Angeles, he finds Eddie is harder to tempt than expected, and more compelling than Buck had hoped.

🔥 Right Where You Left Me by hyacinthusbloom/ @thebloomingheather (Canon Divergent, Post-S4, Angst | 20K | 19/? | Explicit | Warning: Rape/Non-con): "Therapy?" Eddie suggests. Buck almost laughs, but instead says, "I'll go if you go." Because he had fully expected him to be chicken shit, to disagree, and instead Eddie, the bastard, replies, "Deal." Or Buck never tells anyone that he slept with his therapist and deals with the butterfly effect years later.

Kiss Me Once Cause You Know I Had A Long Night by I_still_dont_understand_13 / @sherlockcrossing (Prompt collection | 15/? | 10K | Teen): 100 kiss prompts.

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 118

Part 1 Part 117

Winter break passes better than summer had for Will. Mom’s loosened his leash enough that he can go to the arcade unsupervised, or hang out at Dustin’s house, or sequester himself in Mike’s stuffy basement and run a campaign like the good old days.

El closed the gate, and everyone’s convinced the Upside-Down is gone. Only Steve, Eddie, and Will can feel their connection stretch the miles between their abodes and know the truth: it’s not over.

Things will never be the same again.

Will doesn’t mention it. This little slice of normalcy is far too precious to jeopardize with the truth.

The holiday’s in the Byers house have always been low-key, but it’s been worse since last year. They don’t even put up lights anymore. No one’s told him why, and he hasn’t asked.

Still, when he asks his Mom, she gladly agrees to host their extended family. They’d done it at the Munson’s last year, hemmed into a space far too small for that many bodies.

It’s Eddie who suggests a secret santa exchange. Everyone huddles in Will’s living room, pulling names from one of Wayne’s baseball caps, groaning when Carol draws the last slip and it’s her own name. They crumple the pieces and try again.

Will stares down at El’s name and sneaks furtive looks up at her. She wasn’t around last Chrismtas, still holed up in Chief Hopper’s cabin pretending not to exist. But, her leash has been loosened as well, so here she is, beaming down at her own drawn name and bouncing on her toes with excitement.

Has she ever celebrated a holiday before? Has she ever even gotten a present?

It’s a lot of pressure. He feels it pushing down on him, but then Steve throws his arm around Will’s shoulders and initiates their usual tug, tug, tug ritual, and it all eases off. Like, Steve, even unknowingly, will always take the weight off Will’s shoulders and carry it himself.

He stares down at the piece of paper and starts to plan.

It takes the entire allotted two weeks to finish. He stares down at the finished project. Will she like it? Is he skipping over some boundary he doesn’t even know is there?

It doesn’t matter: he’s out of time, so he rolls the paper up and pushes it carefully into one of Jonathan’s old poster tubes, and rushes into the living room to wrap it.

Everyone gathers, sitting on couches and chairs and the carpet. Dustin crouches in the corner where they’d all piled their presents, squinting at small handwriting and passing around a variety of parcels.

They go in a circle, gift after gift. Will opens his own, beaming down at a trio of hand-painted figures from Lucas.

When Jonathan opens his, he stares down at it, mouth opening and closing, no sounds coming out. Will leans over to peer around the half-unwrapped gift to see what’s robbed him of speech.

It’s a cassette player, still in the original box, and it must be nice based on the way Jonathan’s staring at it like it’s the holy grail.

“I put a tape in it for you to listen to,” Steve says. His cheeks are pink, and he’s twiddling the ring on his pinkie. “You said I owed you one.”

Jonathan reaches out to pry the box open, staring in like he’ll find the answers to the meaning of life rather than a cassette player. “I was kidding,” Jonathan replies, but he’s smiling down at it now as he pulls it out of the box and pops the deck to look at what’s inside.

“You don’t even want to know what Stevie here had to do to get Johnny boy's name from the draw,” Eddie says, smiling from where he’s sitting on the rug. Steve elbows him in the ribs, but he just keeps talking. “And then he had to do it all over again when Perky Perkins screwed all his hard work and drew her own name.”

Carol gasps, rounding on Steve and kicking out at him ruthlessly close to his crotch. “You told him?” she shrieks.

Will has no idea what they’re on about but he laughs along with everyone else, watching all three of them descend into an all-out wrestling match like the children they’re not.

It doesn’t stop until they get dangerously close to knocking over the TV, and Mom claps to get their attention. They all settle back in to finish opening presents.

Because Will’s life has always been an unlucky one, El goes last. His anxiety ratchets up with every minute that passes, reaching an all-time-high as she finally starts peeling the paper away.

Unlike the rest of them, she picks the tape off the foil, peeling it away, careful not to rip the paper at all. She folds it all nicely, and hands it to Chief Hopper for safe-keeping.

She then stares down at the cardboard tube, brow furrowed until Mike tells her she has to open the other end. El flips the tube on its head, pulls off the top, and pulls out the rolled up paper inside.

With that same characteristic care, she unrolls it, only to gasp at what she finds. Will watches her face, digging his fingernails into his thighs.

“What is it?” Chief Hopper asks, leaning over her shoulder to ger a peek. He looks down at it with an expressionless face before smiling and patting her shoulder.

El nods, not looking away from the page in front of her.

Will has limited supplies, but he’d used all the best colored pencils he owns, and had Jonathan buy him a big piece of paper from Melvald’s.

On one edge of the page stands El. She looks fierce the way she has every time he’s seen her use her powers, hand raised and a huge beam of white light cutting across the darkness.

Within that beam, he’s painted all the people in this room. First, Chief Hopper in his police uniform, standing beside Mom, gun raised and pointed toward the darkness. Then, Mike, Lucas, and Dusin, dressed as their D&D characters holding a variety of weapons. Will, Steve, and Eddie stand farther along the page, back to back to back as they cover each other’s weak bits. Then Jonathan and Nancy, Nancy with a gun, and Jonathan slightly behind her, all ready to face whatever comes out of the darkness. And at the farthest corner, Barb stands with a baseball bat covered in nails, Carol standing slightly behind her, pointing into the darkness like she’s clueing Barb in on a monster’s location.

The whole thing ended up a little messy. Nancy’s hands look wonky, and there’s something wrong with Steve’s nose, but El’s beaming down at it like it’s the Mona Lisa.

“Be careful with it until we can get a frame for it,” Chief Hopper says, hand still clasping onto her shoulder.

She looks up at him, smiling even wider as she asks, “I can put it in my room?”

“Of course, kid.”

El stares down at the page for a few seconds more before rolling it back up with slow movements, making it small enough that it slides perfectly into its roll. She puts it on Chief Hopper’s lap, staring down at it for a second like she can’t bear to look away.

She then barrels across the room, colliding with Will so hard that they both end up on the carpet. “Thank you, Will,” El says, clutching onto him hard.

He pats her back awkwardly, looking around the room for help and finding none. “You’re welcome.”

“It is the best present I have ever gotten.”

That makes Will a little sad, but all he says is, “Merry Christmas.” He waits uncomfortably for her to get off him so he can sit back up.

It’s not long until everyone starts trickling out, Carol and Barbara herding Max and Lucas along with them to drop off, and Nancy snagging Mike and Dustin after sharing a kiss with Jonathan that Eddie makes barfing noises at.

Chief Hopper shepherds El into his truck, and Wayne follows them out, off to work the night shift.

Only Eddie and Steve stay. They all pile into Will’s room. His bed’s not big enough for the three of them, so they curl around each other on the floor, blankets haphazardly piled atop them.

It doesn’t take Will long to fall asleep, comfortable with Steve and Eddie at his back, the comforting sounds of his Mom cleaning up in the other room.

Part 119

[ditaliaa]

I’ll Keep You Warm

Jack Russell x Elsa Bloodstone

A present for @wellyourenotwrong for the Werewolf by Night Secret Santa!! I was so excited to be your Secret Santa and I hope you enjoy this!! I loved writing it for you!! This can also be found on my AO3.

Summary: With Jack wounded and on the run, Elsa leads them to a safe house for the night.

Tags: fluff and angst, domestic fluff, hurt/comfort, taking care of wounds, dancing, kind of an ‘only one bed’ fic, kissing, denial of feelings, tenderness, angst with a happy ending

Word Count: 4.2K

Perhaps Ted had been right when he said Jack had a nose for trouble, but there was little good it would do him now.

Gravel kissed his face in a biting caress as his cheek was shoved into the ground. The boot of the hunter above him crushed his back, digging into his spine as his blade rested against the tender flesh of Jack’s throat. He tried to move, but an agonizing burn tore through him as he was reminded of the wound on his side. A low whine escaped his throat as he shut his eyes.

“Stay down, dog.” The man growled.

“Jack!” His eyes flickered open at the familiar voice, gaze colliding with the cold yet worried stare of Elsa Bloodstone. Her eyes lifted to meet the hunter above him as she leveled her bow.

“Elsa,” he ground out, “it’s ok.”

Her gaze slid to his once more, quick and reluctant, but he noticed the way her bow drooped slightly in her hand.

“Oh, the great Bloodstone heir has a soft spot for the dog, does she?” The hunter crooned and Jack laid deathly still as he watched Elsa. “I think it’s time we put him down, don’t you?”

Before the blade could even move, the man was dead, falling with a dull thud beside him. Jack’s chest constricted, breaths coming tight and uneven as he scrambled away. In a moment, Elsa had made her way toward him.

“Can you walk?” She asked, eyes glancing over him quickly and he nodded.

“Yes.” He breathed. “Are you ok? Once we got split up back there I-“

“I’m fine.” She cut him off quickly.

“There’s a cabin I’ve used as a safe house not far from here.” Elsa spoke, “We need to go. There’ll be more on their way.”

Jack tailed behind her, not entirely aware of what he had managed to find himself caught up in, and trusted Elsa enough to follow. It was snowing by the time they got there, though he had barely noticed, so caught up in adrenaline he could only focus on Elsa, and keeping continued pressure on his side.

The cabin was sparse, to say the least and he was almost certain it didn’t belong to her either, if watching her try to kick the door in proved anything.

“I thought you said you’d used this as a safe house?” Jack asked, “You don’t have a key?”

“It’s been a while.” Elsa ground out, but there was no malice in it, only frustration as she shivered in the cold and cast her eyes about the door’s frame.

“Let me see.” He gently set his hand on her shoulder and she looked at him with a curious glint in her eyes. Stepping aside, she allowed him to take over. He knelt, staring at the door’s knob before his gaze flickered back to her’s.

“Do you have a hair pin, or something long and thin?” Elsa’s brows scrunched in thought for a second before pulling a thin strip of metal from her boot.

“Will this work?”

“It’s perfect.” He smiled, grabbing the proffered pin, “Thank you.”

He placed it into the keyhole and began to gently slide each lock into place, each one snapping happily until the final one. He avoided Elsa’s surprised gaze as the door gave a loud click and opened under his touch.

Elsa quirked a thin brow at him as she walked past. “Do I want to know?”

“Probably not.” He murmured softly.

Jack shuffled inside the dark room, clutching his stomach to minimize movement.

“We should be safe here.” Elsa said, closing the door behind him. “At least for the night.”

“Ok.” He nodded, taking a moment to breathe and watching as she made her way about the cabin, checking the windows and closing curtains before turning on the light.

As she turned to face him, her gaze finally swept over him. Her eyes widened as she looked at him fully, lips parted as a breath of shock escaped her lungs.

“Shit.” The word puffed past her lips, “You’re bleeding.

“Oh this?” He moved his jacket a bit to reveal the wound, “It’s nothing.”

When his gaze lifted to meet her’s once more, he could see her unimpressed stare even in the dim lighting. He watched as she continued to the kitchen, flipping on a light that barely refused to turn on. It flickered and sputtered to life as he hovered in the doorway.

“Sit.” She called and he followed her orders.

Jack looked around the small kitchen, opting to sit on the table as there were no chairs present. The wood creaked beneath his weight and he froze as she turned to him.

“Let me see.”

Wordlessly, he lifted his shirt to reveal the cut that ran along the length of his side. It wasn’t deep, but it had bled enough to look concerning to any untrained eye.

“Shit.” She ran her hands through her hair. “Don’t move.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.” He cracked a soft smile despite the pain and she glared at him for a moment, eyes rolling as she walked away.

Jack watched as she began raiding the cabinets in a violent search. After a few minutes of listening to the sound, he spoke.

“What are you looking for?”

“I need to find a medical kit,” Elsa mumbled from beneath the sink, “or something to at least staunch the bleeding.”

She opened another door to reveal a full bottle of vodka. Her hands wrapped around the neck of the bottle and she looked at him, lips quirked up in a smile that would have been joking had it not been for the concern so present in her brow that belied the expression.

“Fancy a drink?” She shook the bottle and the contents sloshed slightly.

“I lose all control of myself once a month.” He offered her a kind smile, wincing in slight pain. “I can’t say I like to replicate the feeling.”

“Right.” She blinked, “Of course.”

“But you’re welcome to, if you want.”

Elsa shook her head, setting the drink down and continuing her search. She emerged with a tin kit. The box was scratched and banged up and were it not for the knowledge that this was the first aid she had been searching for, he would not have known what she had pulled out from the cabinet.

She set the kit down beside him, opening the tin and looking through it’s contents. He watched her hands as she picked up a suturing needle.

“Are you ok?”

Elsa scoffed, the sound tight and uncomfortable. “You’re the one bleeding out on my table and you’re asking me if I’m ok?”

“I’m not the one shaking.” The words weren’t accusatory, rather concern held in it’s weight.

Elsa reluctantly met his gaze. Sitting this close to her now, he could see the ring of fear around her eyes. He tried a different tactic.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” He asked not unkindly, though he knew the answer already.

She snorted, the sound self-deprecating. “Is it that obvious?”

“Given our first introduction?” He quirked a brow which earned a laugh from her, the sound real and full.

Jack smiled now at the memory of their time in the crypt and Elsa’s shoulders relaxed just a bit. She looked at him again, eyes now shining and warm and he fought the urge to hold her hand.

“Fine.” The smile slipped from her face as she confessed. “I don’t know what I’m doing here, Jack.”

“That’s alright, I’ll show you.” His gaze slipped down as he spoke. “First, you’ll need to wash your hands.”

Elsa looked down as if just now noticing the dirt and slight blood that clung to her nails. “Right.”

As she went to the sink, Jack busied himself by taking his jacket off; the shirt, he would need more help with. His side tugged and burned with the small movements and he seethed at the pain. At his sound, Elsa turned, taking in his half state of undress. She blinked, quickly looking away to dry off her hands and clear her throat. When she returned to his side, her hands were steadier now.

“Stay still.” She admonished and he froze beneath her touch.

Jack watched as she brandished a knife, grasping a fistful of his shirt and tore through the fabric. After she had finished one side, Elsa moved to the next, doing the same thing until what was left of his shirt fell away. She set the knife down and stared at him. Her eyes dragged across his lithe frame, snagging on the wound on his abdomen before trailing up to meet his gaze.

“That was my favorite shirt.” He accused.

“Well, I-“ she began to defend before meeting his mirthful gaze. Her lips twisted in a wry smile. “You arse.”

“It’s ok,” Jack smirked, throwing up his hands in a peaceful gesture, as he looked at her. “I’ll forgive you this time.”

“Oh, you will? That’s a relief.” Elsa rolled her eyes, her shoulders losing some of their stiffness.

Jack’s hands returned to the table as he watched her smile return.

“Next you’ll want to clean it, before wrapping it.” He instructed, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat. “Take some warm water and clean the blood around the wound first. It’s stopped bleeding, so it should be quick.”

Elsa nodded as she grabbed a bowl from the counter and went to work. Her nails drug across his skin in the ghost of a caress as she scrubbed the blood from his side and as she worked, she spoke.

“You’re wrong.”

His brows knit together in confusion and he looked at her. Elsa’s gaze was firmly trained on cleaning his wound and so he pressed.

“Though I’m not going to disagree,” he quirked a smile and crooked his head sideways, “I must ask about what?”

Her gaze met his for a second before returning downward and she spoke once more. “It’s not ok.”

It took him a moment to process what she meant before remembering. Jack closed his eyes allowing a slow breath to push past his lips. The memory of the hunter’s knife resting against his neck still vivid in his mind and the derision in his voice as he had called him what he was: a dog.

“No, I suppose you’re right.” He answered.

There was nothing more to say, what else could he? Nothing would change the fact that he was a monster and no other hunter, beside Elsa, would see him as such. But it was enough just to speak it - to remind him that he was just as much human as anyone else and perhaps even more so when compared to people like Ulysses.

Silence filled the air as Elsa continued to work and she seemed content to let the moment pass. As she finished, Elsa dried off her hands and moved to wrap the wound. Jack stopped her, placing a hand on her own and pausing her in her movements.

“What?” She asked, looking at him once more.

“Where did you put the vodka?” Jack watched as she grabbed it from the counter, turning to look at him once more.

“I thought you didn’t want any.” Her eyes flickered back and forth as she gazed into his own and he watched as realization dawned on her.

“We need to disinfect the wound before it’s wrapped. There’s no saline solution in here, so the best way to do that is with alcohol.” He persisted at her wariness, hoping to assuage her. “I’ll be fine, I’ve been through worse.”

Jack noticed the clench in her jaw at his words. She had no doubt he had been through worse, but there was a difference between witnessing such agony and being the one to inflict it. Her father had no qualms with either, but Elsa could not say the same.

Though her hands were steady as she unscrewed the bottle, Jack noticed the sudden change of her heart rate, only hidden by the forced regularity of her breathing. Elsa avoided eye contact with him as she readied herself to disinfect the wound, but a sudden warmth around her arm stopped her. His fingers pressed into her, drawing her eyes towards him and Jack held her gaze as he gently took the bottle from her hands.

“It’s ok, Elsa.” He whispered, as though trying not to scare her. “You don’t have to.”

“Jack-“

“Wash your hands.” He tipped his head, in the direction of the sink. “I’ll handle it.”

As the warmth of the water rushed over her knuckles, Elsa tried to ignore the agonized groans and shuddering breaths of the man behind her. When she turned back around, his eyes were closed, head leaned back as he breathed deeply. The stench of alcohol pierced her nose, strong and sharp in it’s scent. Elsa’s gaze swept over him, noticing how his stomach glistened, the muscles pulled tight from pain. In this light, despite the obvious suffering he was in, Elsa could almost admit he was-

“Elsa?”

Her gaze snapped up to meet his once more and found his sharp green eyes on her.

“Are you ok?”

She could feel her mask slide back into place. The vulnerability she had allowed herself to show this night was becoming more frequent around him and she steeled herself to return to his side. With a curt nod, she responded.

“So,” She cleared her throat, “I just wrap you up and that’s it?”

Jack stilled, his clever eyes pausing on her for a moment longer before answering.

“Yes.” He spoke, his throat a bit dry. “That’s it.”

Elsa nodded, quickly grabbing the gauze and working to fashion it tightly around his midsection. She ignored the way his breath felt against her neck as she reached behind him, the way the warmth of his body leeched into her skin with every brush of her fingers. She cleared her throat.

“There might be a change of clothes in the room, down the hall.” Elsa spoke as she tied off the bandage. “Take some Advil.”

Once she had finished, she excused herself to take a shower.

And she definitely didn’t think about the way his eyes never left her face as she wrapped his wound.

***

Elsa heard the music before the shower had even turned off, the sound of it growing louder as she dressed and wrung her hair out. The crackling melody of an older song she couldn’t quite name played through the hall, the sound muffled by distance.

“Jack?” Elsa called out as she walked closer towards the noise.

Her heart pitched in her chest when there was no response. She froze, letting out a slow exhale in a controlled breath before she prepared to round the corner.

She raised her arms pivoting toward the doorway… and dropped them at the sight in front of her.

There, standing in the living room was Jack, still shirtless and swaying gently to the rhythm of the music. His back was to her and she watched him, brows pinching together in confusion.

“Jack?” She couldn’t help the frustrated relief in her voice and he spun around to face her.

“Elsa!” He rushed to lower the volume on the record player. “I’m sorry, was it too loud?”

She shook her head, her anxiety on his behalf dissipating as she looked at him. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, well, I found this record player and I figured that after the night we’ve had, we deserve to relax a bit.”

She watched as he turned the volume up a bit more and began to sway his hips, the quick guitar strings creating a happy melody. Elsa would be lying if she said she wasn’t mesmerized by his movements. He shifted fluidly despite the wound in his side though, if she looked closely, he did move more gingerly than normal. A certain uneasiness began to creep up her spine.

“Come on.” He smiled, seemingly in better spirits as he waved her over.

“Jack, we’re supposed to be laying low.” She shook her head and he stopped, walking over to her.

“You say we’re safe here, yes?” His eyes glittered feverishly as she met his gaze.

“Yes.” The word barely left her throat.

“Then dance with me.”

Jack smiled as he took her hand and led her into the dimly lit room. She looked down, noticing he had kicked off his shoes and was now barefoot. Her eyes traveled back up to meet his.

This is ridiculous. She thought.

“I don’t know how to dance.” She said.

Jack’s lips quirked into a gentle smile, “It’s alright, I’ll show you.”

His hand grabbed her wrist, lifting it to set her hand upon his shoulder as he grasped the other one.

“You’ll want to step closer.” He murmured and she shuffled forward. A laugh bubbled in his chest. “Closer.”

Elsa stepped forward until she was flush against his body, her face nestled into the crook of his neck.

“Are you sure I won’t hurt you?”

“I’ll be fine.” He spoke, the warmth of his breath ghosting across the shell of her ear. “I’ll lead, you follow.”

She didn’t say a word as he began, his hand sliding across her waist to hold her back as they moved.

“You’re still on edge.” He noted, an amused tint to his voice.

“Because this is what gets you into trouble all the time.” she growled. Elsa could feel how stiff her limbs were, muscles coiled and ready should anything happen.

The sound of his laugh vibrated through his chest, she could feel it before she even heard it.

“What?” She could hear the smile in his voice. “By dancing?”

“Relaxing.” She pulled away to look at him and he let her, his hand slipping away for a moment. Elsa held his gaze a moment longer before returning to her previous position, the back of her mind buzzing at how close they were to each other.

“You let your guard down too easily.” She admitted softly and Jack stuttered in his movements.

She could feel the shift in his body, so close as he was to her and he stilled. The tip of his nose brushed the shell of her ear and he inhaled, a slow, deep breath that held a certain kind of weight to it. Elsa stared ahead, waiting for his response.

“Thirteen yards above us is a nest full of birds. Twenty-eight yards to the right of us is a fox, though it could be a badger, the snow makes it a bit hard to tell. Ten yards from the tree with the birds are a few squirrels. Our greatest threat is the deer a little more than fifty yards away from the cabin.”

Finally Jack moved to look her in the eyes.

“You’re right, Elsa. I do let my guard down easily,“ He conceded. ”but you don’t do it enough.”

Elsa felt as though she couldn’t move, shock and perhaps a hint of anger coursing through her. Then embarrassment flooded her chest, creeping up her throat until it tightened. She swallowed, and without saying a word, extricated herself from his arms. She walked to the record he had put on and lifted the needle, flipping the switch to stop it’s spinning and flipped the vinyl to the other side. Elsa flipped the switch once more and set the needle gently atop the record player.

The soft theme of a guitar played as she turned to face him and as she met his gaze, Elsa allowed herself to relax. As she walked back over to him, her shoulders dropped beneath his touch. Her feet stood between his own, intertwining their legs as his hands wrapped around her waist. She allowed her body to meld into his touch, and somehow, just standing her felt more intimate than anything she had ever done. It was terrifying.

Silently, he began to move, swaying gently to the tune as the man began to sing. Jack hummed along, the melody a low-pitched noise rumbling through his chest as they danced. Elsa couldn’t help the way her head dropped slightly, the heat of his neck brushing her cheek as he tilted his head. She was surprised when he began to sing along, the sound low and hesitant.

“You know Portuguese?” She asked, shifting her head to address him.

“Yes.” Jack nodded. “It’s close to Spanish, so it wasn’t too hard.”

“Do you know any other languages?”

“A few.” He admitted, “What about you?”

Elsa smiled, “A few.” She repeated.

Jack laughed as he stepped to the side and she followed, allowing him to lead.

“My dad insisted I learn.” She spoke, her voice suddenly growing sober. “It’s one of the few things I actually enjoyed.”

Jack stilled, their movements slowing until he stopped, the tip of his nose brushing her neck. His hot breath rustled her hair and suddenly she was all too aware of how close they were.

“Elsa,” Jack whispered her name and she closed her eyes. “I-“

Her lips parted as she breathed, listening to his words. She could feel him pull away slightly and she opened her eyes. His gaze fell to her lips and she froze. The heat of his shoulder leeched into her fingers, warm and soft. His bare chest pressed against hers and she could feel the rise and fall of it with every breath. The last time he had been so close to her was when they were in the cage. Jack paused once more before clearing his throat.

“I think I should clean up for the night.”

Elsa stood silent, letting his words pierce through the heady fog that had surrounded her to sink into her mind. As she stood, he moved, arms falling away from her to step backward. She blinked, recovering and looking away from him.

“Of course.” She turned away, forcing her voice to remain neutral. “The shower is just down the hall through the bedroom.”

Her gaze found the record player, watching the vinyl spin as the needle moved slowly up and down. It wavered as it reached the end of the available songs, a dust filled emptiness now crackling through the speakers. She waited until she could hear his footsteps recede before moving toward it, lifting the needle and flipping the switch off. Elsa ran her hands through her hair, fighting off the sting of tears.

“Bloody stupid.” She whispered.

***

“You should rest.”

The sleep-drugged voice was gravel lined with tiredness and it was a moment before he realized who’s it was.

“I’m not human.” He spoke, “I don’t need sleep.”

“Of course you do.”

“Not like you.”

As he exited the bathroom, his eyes adjusted to the dark of the bedroom, the dim light above the sink barely puncturing the darkness. Jack’s gaze landed on her, laying on one half of the bed, the other untouched. He watched as she sat up, red hair glinting in the soft light.

“Elsa-“

“Just go to sleep, Jack.” She cut him off, shifting in the bed to face away from the other side.

He hesitated in the doorway before moving toward the bed. It was clear she had left the side for him, but even though they had sleep next to each other before, sleeping in the same bed felt strangely intimate. Jack sat on the empty side, the mattress dipping beneath his weight, but she remained silent. He slid beneath the covers, laying next to her and shifted his head.

“I didn’t get a chance to say thank you.” He said into the darkness. “And I’m sorry.”

There was no response for a moment, then she spoke. “‘Why?”

The question was raw, and he could hear the pain laced in the single word.

“For the same reason you can’t dance.”

He closed his eyes, letting her scent wash over him. The crispness of pine needles with the citrus smell of oranges seeping through. The air was heavy with snow and earth and he breathed it in the quiet. If this was as close as he could get to her, he would take it.

“Is the deer still around?”

The question was a surprise and he couldn’t help the smile that tugged on his lips.

“No.” He murmured, “She’s gone.”

Jack lay still as she shifted in the darkness.

“And the fox?” Elsa asked.

A beat longer.

“Gone too.” His throat grew dry as she moved some more.

“The birds?”

She was facing him now. He listened and beneath the pillow of snow he could hear the flutter of wings and their fast heartbeats if he tried.

“Still there.” Jack said, “You’ll hear them in the morning.”

They lay there in the quiet and as he stretched his hands, they met her skin.

“You’re cold.” He spoke, the words leaving his lips in a hushed breath.

Her legs moved in small, incremental movements to intertwine with his and he moved to allow it, his breath hitching at the intimacy. His eyes adjusted, looking down to find her wide eyes upon him, and his gaze flickered down to glance at her lips. Elsa’s hand brushed the bandage, dancing across his side to wrap gingerly around him. The heat of his skin seeped into the sheets. Her lips found his, ghosting across his in a breath.

“Then keep me warm.”

[exlibrislaurac]

Happy Secret Santa to lunanimal.tumblr.com ! 

It’s a 2020 OJS Christmas - on Skype - in response to the lovely prompt: ‘Just in general MJN/OJS being a family and supporting each other’. Douglas was worried he might not be able to see his daughter in the lockdown, but it all worked out.

@lunanimal @hellyeahjohnfinnemore

[apocalypse-friend]

hello! I've been assigned your cabin pressure secret santa~ I'm very excited about what I'm writing for you!!

❤❤❤!!!! I'm very excited to read it :D

[mjn-air]

Fandot Secret Santa @hellyeahjohnfinnemore

Merry Christmas, dear Mars!

Alone on Christmas? Not anymore!

I made you an edit about how the found family of MJN Air happily celebrates together instead of, you know, following through with their original plans of going back to the hotel and getting a bit of sleep (Douglas) or sitting by the pool alone (Martin) - and I hope you will like it and I hope you are having a few calm, peaceful and brilliant days.

[theresa-of-liechtenstein]

fandot secret santa!! | for @lauracraggs , who suggested a knapp-shappey-shipwright christmas and arthur as a jack-of-all trades

arthur’s taken up a new pastime this year, and the fruits of his labors have taken the form of christmas presents for carolyn and herc! for herc, he’s knitted a green scarf and used some of the leftover yarn as a brim for a hat that looks a lot like a lemon, to remind herc of all the games of the traveling lemon they’ve played on flights. using some of the yellow yarn, arthur’s made carolyn some socks for when they’re flying over the arctic. he’s also made a hat in colors that he thought would go well with one of her scarves.

judging from the fashion show herc is putting on and the fact that carolyn hasn’t removed her hat or socks since opening her present, arthur’s gifts seem to be a huge hit!

have a safe and merry christmas! ❤️

(tagging @hellyeahjohnfinnemore !!)

[hellyeahjohnfinnemore]

Being it is that time of the year again....

Is there any interest in having a Fandot Secret Santa again this year?

Ideally, it would start the first week of Dec and then conclude on Christmas. Ideally, I'd like at least ten people to participate.

[thekenobee]

Martin: DOuglas Richardson more like DO-NOT-glas Richardson.

Douglas:...

[chriscalledmesweetie]

Two Truths and a Lie

Douglas shares his confidence, Martin shares his fears, Arthur shares his enthusiasm, and Carolyn — however begrudgingly — shares her aeroplane.

A Cabin Pressure fic for @marsetta in the Fandot Secret Santa Exchange

[iwanttotieyourshoe]

A little gift for @olympain for Fandot Secret Santa I hope you enjoy this little thing. Happy holidays and a Shappey New Year! Best wishes from 

iwantotieyourshoe Tagging @hellyeahjohnfinnemore so you find this too

[rachelvanbora]

Merry Christmas, @sircarolyn

2019 Fandot Secret Santa

@hellyeahjohnfinnemore

[clairedrawsairdraws]

fandot secret santa for @hapartshapchap~  (prompt was trans!martin getting some love from his partner)

@hellyeahjohnfinnemore

[exlibrislaurac]

A Legacy of Lemons

(Cabin Pressure Secret Santa for oohkingslaying, based on the prompt: ‘growing lemon trees out of lemons’. I hope you enjoy it.) 

Let me tell you about my Uncle Arthur.

I had loads of aunts and uncles, of course. My Dad had a brother and a sister, and my mum was the eldest of eight. Arthur was not a real uncle, technically - but being my Dad’s closest friend, and pretty much the kindest man in the world, arguably he was the unclest uncle we ever had. 

When we were young, he’d come to our house every summer for a week or two and we looked forward to that more than Christmas or the end of school. He’d always bring an extra suitcase full of books and nothing else - having his own airline meant he wasn’t bound by the same weight restrictions as the average traveler.  His pilots would drop him off at the airstrip and we’d drive out to pick him up. Then every evening he’d read us stories and do all the voices. Paddington and Pooh were his favourites and became ours too, so much that we can’t think of Arthur without thinking of bears. My sister even had a teddy she called Arthur… he’s still around somewhere. I think her granddaughter has him now.

And the games! He knew such marvelous games. Apparently, he and Dad and Douglas - you’ve heard me mention Douglas? He was the other pilot at the airline when it was just starting out; he visited us often, sometimes at the same time as Arthur - and so, apparently, they played these extraordinary games when they were flying. You know, to beat the boredom on long trips; word games and trivia games and guessing games... 

Our favourite was the Travelling Lemon. Arthur always had a lemon on him, somewhere. He said he kept it in his special ‘citrus pocket’, which was an in-joke with Dad. (He’d bring tangerines if he came at Christmas.) So how the game works is that, on the plane, Arthur or one of the pilots would go out and hide a lemon somewhere in plain sight - it had to be in plain sight - then one of the others would go out and have to find it and re-hide it.  When we played it at home: as you can imagine, in the castle, sometimes the hunts would last for days. Once we found it lined up with a set of Russian dolls, and once in a huge bunch of yellow roses Dad bought Mama for her birthday. Arthur had stuck it on a rose stem and everything.

At the end of his visit every summer, the lemon would be squeezed into gin-and-tonics for Mama, Dad, and Arthur, and the husk given to us to whack about with a cricket bat until it fell to pieces. But one year, we still hadn’t found it by the time Arthur left for England, and he wouldn’t tell us where it was. We searched for the rest of the holidays, but still nothing. Finally, after we’d been back at school for over a month, Mama found it behind the washing machine - it had fallen out of a decorative basket up above - and it was completely black and mouldy and almost too squishy to pick up in one piece. 

We called Uncle Arthur to ask, “What should we do with it now?” 

“Put it in the ground and see if the seeds will grow,” he said, so we did. We weren’t very hopeful, of course.  I mean, a lemon tree in Lichtenstein! But lo and behold, it actually came up! And it kept growing and growing and in a few years it even had a lemon on it in time for Arthur’s visit.  

All through our childhoods, our teens, our early adulthoods, we drew on the thought of our steadfast little lemon tree whenever things were uncertain or difficult. “Lemons grow in Lichtenstein,” we’d tell each other, so anything was possible. It was Uncle Arthur’s philosophy entirely, and although I’ve inherited more than a few of my Dad’s neuroses, I think I’ve lived my life by it: be playful, be kind, enjoy the little things, and have faith through the big ones.  

And every time I have a lemon from that tree, I remember Uncle Arthur and his visits, and his stories and games and his endless, infallible kindness. Because it’s still there. It must be, what? Fifty or sixty years since we planted it. It’s still there and it still grows lemons. And it makes me think of that silly old saying, too. What is it?

Ah, that’s it. When life gives you lemons... plant them.

[apocalypse-friend]

Fandot Secret Santa

My gift to @clairedrawsairdraws for the Cabin Pressure Fandot (January) Secret Santa

Douglas and Martin's wedding dance.

I hope you enjoy it ❤. Click on drawing for better resolution.

I may do a digital version of it, at the very least color it.

Fic about the antics of their wedding coming soon!

@fandotsecretsanta

@johnfinnemoressouvenirprogramme