"Absolutely not, Potter," Draco said, trying to close his door in Harry's face.
Harry laughed, "Stop being ridiculous," he said, pushing at the door to Draco's room.
"I'm not," he said, "while I appreciate that it is our tradition to grade papers together on Friday night before we watch a movie, I cannot take that chance today."
"Draco-"
"No," he said again. "Matilda Bagweather has that horrible winter flu and you didn't have the good sense to send her out of your classroom. You've exposed yourself to it and I'm not interested in getting sick."
The door closed firmly in his face and Harry sighed, letting his forehead drop against the door. This couldn't be happening to him. Not today. Not when he'd planned to-
"Draco," he called, knocking on the door again.
"Go away, Potter!"
"I brought a Christmas movie," he cajoled. "You're really going to like this one." He was certain about White Christmas, Draco was a sucker for cheesy love stories.
The door opened a crack and Harry wiggled the DVD so he could see it. "Are you feeling any symptoms? Any scratchiness of throat, tickling in the ears, are your eyes watering?"
He rolled his eyes, "I feel fine. I feel great, actually. I just wanted to watch this movie with you."
Draco debated for a moment, Harry could see it playing out on his face, then after what felt like an eternity, the door fell open. "Fine. But you're sitting at the other end of the sofa."
-----
An hour into the movie and Draco's head was where it always ended up, in Harry's lap. And Harry certainly wasn't complaining. He combed his fingers through Draco's hair, scratching lightly at Draco's scalp with his nails, like he knew Draco enjoyed from a great deal of trial and error.
He'd slipped right into Harry's lap as he argued with the movie:
"Why is she upset?"
"Why wouldn't she just talk to him!"
"For Cirice's sake, getting engaged isn't going to help!"
"Do you see now what could have been avoided if you'd just talked to him, you silly woman?"
But none of the ranting stopped Draco from tearing up when the General stepped into the room and everyone started applauding.
He sat up and reached for a tissue on the table, sniffling and hair askew from Harry's fingers, and Harry loved him and loved him and loved him. Godric it wasn't healthy to love someone this much. To want nothing more than to look at them and make them happy.
"I don't know why they always have to be so emotional," Draco said, turning to look at Harry. "What?" he asked, "Why are you looking at me like that?"
"I'd just really like to kiss you," he said because he'd decided that tonight was the night. No more waiting, no more holding his feelings in. It wasn't quite how he'd planned it but it would do.
"What?"
Harry shrugged unrepentantly, "I would like to kiss you," he repeated.
"Well then why haven't you?" Draco asked, sounding affronted now.
He laughed, "Well I thought I'd get your approval first."
"You have it," Draco said, "so what are you waiting for? Do I have to do everything my-"
Harry leaned in and kissed him, soft and sweet, making the butterflies in his belly take flight all around his body.
"Oh," Draco breathed when Harry drew back. "I think you should do that again."
He grinned and cupped the back of Draco's head as he leaned in to kiss him once more. When he moved away he murmured, "You're missing the ending."
Draco blinked at him and Harry nodded to the screen as the barn doors opened and the snow appeared like a backdrop. Draco leaned back against Harry and Harry wrapped an arm around him, drawing him even closer.
When the movie finished, Harry squeezed him and pressed a kiss to his cheek before he shifted and stood up.
"Where do you think you're going?"
He grinned and leaned down to press a soft, short kiss to Draco's lips once more. "My own room."
Draco raised an imperious eyebrow but Harry spoke up first.
"I want to do this right," he said softly. "I want to woo you, I want you to feel pursued. I want this to be something that lasts."
Draco blinked up at him, that guarded part of him falling away, leaving him looking young and unbearably sweet.
"You're too important to me to rush this. So," he said with a fortifying nod, "I'm going to give you one more kiss, and then I'm going to leave." He nudged Draco's foot with his own, "but before I do, I wanted to ask, would you come with me to Hogsmeade tomorrow?"
"Like a date?"
"Yes, Professor Malfoy, exactly like a date."
He smiled and stood up, wrapping his arms around Harry's neck, "Yes," he murmured, leaning in to steal a quick kiss. "I'd love to."
----------
By the time the two of them did get the Winter Flu six weeks later, they were both all too happy to spend the time cocooned in a room, watching movies together while they recovered.
-Dante's movie taste has two sides: absolute chaotic bullshit or really cheesy romance movies that should only be viewed by boy-crazy teen girls.
-He will insist you watch his picks and only lets you watch yours if you beg or if he doesn't have a specific movie in mind.
-Makes a crap ton of popcorn and eats like a pig, getting salt all over the couch.
-Also brings beers for some reason. Movie nights aren't exactly a reason to drink, yet here he is.
-As the movie progresses, he gets more and more clingy; by the time the movie's finished and the credits are rolling, he's practically smothering you.
-When kissing scenes pop up he looks at you expectantly, as if he wants you to re-enact whatever the actors are doing on him.
■ Vergil ■
-Vergil has had enough action and horror for his life, so it's only natural that he likes fluffy stuff, like Hallmark holiday movies.
-You'll find him sitting comfortably on the couch with a hot, steaming cup of tea and maybe a few cookies, enjoying the show and all it's cheesy-ness.
-Prefers to watch movies alone because it's quieter that way, but he won't object if you want to join him.
-He will watch whatever you decide to put on, but know that he will be silently judging every second of it.
-Can't be bothered to make the popcorn and just sits around playing with the remote while you do it. This isn't because he's lazy, it's because he doest know how and fears embarrassing himself if he tries and inevitably fails.
-The best part of movie night by far is the fact that you guys have so much fun just hanging around together. It doesn't matter whether you're paying attention the movie or not, what matters is that you're spending time together and loving every second of it.
□ Nero □
-Honestly, he would rather be kicking demon ass or messing around with his prosthetics.
-Still, he wants to spend time with you so he'll suffer through whatever you want him to watch for your sake.
-Nero likes really intense, violent stuff (as if he hasn't seen enough violence already) because he's an edgy boi. However, if you happen to be of the softer, fluffier type, he won't complain.
-He ends up getting really absorbed into whatever you choose anyway, so none of it matters in the end.
-Doesn't like to eat while watching TV. He feels that the sounds of his own chewing is always louder than the show itself.
-He does love drinking soda, though, and has a lot of it stashed in the back of the fridge, so prepare to feel bloated from all the carbonation.
Tags/Warnings: FLUFF, insinuation of ptsd/past abuse, ya'll are just having some nice soup :), petnames (sweetheart)
Not beta'd. I do not give permission for my work to be translated, copied or reposted or put through an AI machine.
Summary: When a strange man turns up in your home for some unknown reason, you decided to offer him some soup.
Word Count: 448
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Not many people know what to do when there's a strange man in their kitchen. The usual ports of call, according to life and TV, is to:
a. Scream
b. Call the cops
c. Hide
d. All of the above
But somehow you created your own special fifth option (hereby referred to as option e): Give him soup.
He pokes at the soup with his spoon and you watch him over your own bowl. You can't tell if he's about to burst into tears or dart off into the night. There's something about his eyes, something that tells you he's a lost, stray in need of food and probably a hot bath rather than a six foot lug of a man in tac gear.
After a particularly hot slurp of soup, doing the whole hoo-ha-ooh charade, he looks up at you.
"Sorry," You mumble with an apologetic look. "Hot."
He nods but doesn't say anything. So, he clearly understands English. You watch as he stirs his soup again before finally bringing it to his lips. The air is heavy. You don't know why you care about what he thinks of your soup, but you do.
You want to make a joke; asking him not to kill you if it's awful but you think better of it. You still don't know if he would kill you.
His hum catches you off guard and you jump, looking over at him. His eyes flutter, and you think he definitely will cry. He sniffs a few times and raises a shaky hand with a second spoonful again, before he's suddenly gorging the soup.
His spoon clatters against an empty bowl and he looks over at you worriedly and you just smile at him around your own spoon.
"Want seconds, sweetheart?" You ask gently, getting to your feet and angling yourself to the stove. You're face is blasted with the smells of basil, garlic and roasted tomato as you lift the lid from the pot. You hold out a hand for his bowl which he carefully hands to you.
Ladling the soup to the brim (thank God for Bulk Soup Sundays), you reach into the bread bin and butter two slices of bread, placing them next to his soup when you set the bowl down. Retaking your seat, attempting to finish your own bowl, you watch him curiously.
He mumbles a thank you as he tears into the bread with his teeth, and you offer a warm smile.
"No worries. Help yourself to as much as you need."
You had the strangest feeling like your life was going to change, thanks to the stranger before you. Although, you didn't know just how much.
ficmas req: reader who is dealing with seasonal depression, and can’t find the motivation to get out of bed so Kate cheers her up with some christmas decorations and a nice breakfast? ❤️🩹 [girlfriend goals]
[when it gets cold, i’ll be yours - k.b]
summary: when your mind doesn’t want to give you a rest in time for the holidays, your girlfriend Kate is there to make it easier for you
pairing: kate bishop x fem!reader
warnings: comfort with a side order of fluff; R in a depressive episode, one mention of R skipping meals, some crying, weird switch in perspectives halfway through, Kate being the attentive teddy bear partner we all need
word count: 1.4k
[a/n: this was very comforting to write. me personally, i’m trying hard not to let the black dog win right now, but it’s tough. so if any of you are also feeling the effects of the holiday season, please know that you’re not alone, and my heart goes out to you. and as always, thank you for the request and i hope you enjoy ❤️🩹]
—————————————————————————
Kate was used to putting the tree up early.
She knew how you liked to get it up as early as possible—usually right at the tail end of November, or December 1st at the latest. You liked to make a whole day out of it—putting on one of your favorite Christmas movies, indulging in some spiked cocoa, and getting to work decorating every last square inch of the loft.
And Kate loved getting swept up in the cheeriness of it all. She loved the whirlwind of holiday cheer you became. It always increased her own Christmas spirit by at least a dozen.
But this year has been different.
This year, you didn’t beg her to come with you to the Christmas tree farm the very first day it opened to pick out the biggest and best tree from the selections. You didn’t break out the dozen or so Christmas headbands you bought in bulk for Lucky so he could feel included in the festivities. You didn’t chat Kate’s ear off about all the spiked drink concoctions you planned to make at the upcoming holiday party where you would inevitably play bartender. And she hadn’t caught you trying to get the decorations down from the attic by yourself, despite the heaviness of the boxes, because you were just that eager.
The only thing she’d observed was you skipping dinner. And starting to go to bed earlier and earlier every night.
Now, it was a week and a half into December, and the loft you shared with Kate was still barren of any Christmas spirit—no tree, no ornaments, no stockings on the mantle.
Kate came home to a dark apartment—the only source of light coming from the moonlight peeking through the slits of the living room blinds. Kate casts a forlorn glance toward the stairs, knowing that she was sure to find you in bed, buried beneath the covers in the same Peanuts PJs; the TV either off or on mute. The very thought made her heart sink.
She sighs as she kicks off her boots and pairs them beside the front door. She continues toward the stairs in socked feet, turning over in her head what she was going to say when she saw you; with the knowledge that there’s a good chance you hadn’t moved since she left that morning. And knowing you might not have eaten either.
The sight of you is only slightly different than what she’d pictured in her head. You were in bed under the covers, but you were sitting with your back against the headboard rather than lying down. And you wore one of Kate’s hoodies over your PJs, which she assumes you’d donned soon after she left.
“Hi baby,” Kate says gently as she crosses the room to stand beside the bed. She reaches out to carefully remove the hood, watching your little stray strands sprout up all over your head. “You been here all day?” She asks, smoothing your hair down for you as she speaks.
You nod, your gaze focusing on the space between the TV and in the window wall. Kate tries to lock your gaze as she moves to sit on the edge of the bed beside you. “Can I get you anything, baby?” She asks, massaging your thigh over the material of the comforter. “Some water? Tea? Maybe some hot chocolate?”
You give your head a small shake. “I’m not that thirsty,”
“Well…why don’t I make you something? I’m sort of in the mood to have breakfast for dinner. What about you?” Kate tries again.
You shrug. “I’m not hungry,”
Kate’s shoulders deflate. She tries again to catch your gaze, but you’re still looking past her at the wall.
She looks down at the comforter, tracing miscellaneous patterns into the material as she tries to think of what she could say to you. Anything she could say to you to help you feel better.
About a minute and a half of silence goes by before you finally bring your gaze toward Kate. “I’m sorry,” you say.
“Hmm?” Kate looks up at you.
“I’m sorry,” you repeat. “I know this mood I’m in isn’t ideal,”
Kate’s brows furrow, but before she can weigh in, you continue to speak. “I know it’s Christmastime and I should be happy, and I should be covering every last inch of the loft in decor, and getting drunk on homemade holiday cocktails, and taking Lucky to see Christmas lights. Hell, our tree should’ve gone up over a week ago. I know. But I just can’t do it. I feel…I feel like I’m in water up to my neck, and I just don’t know what to do, or how to make it go away…” your voice catches and your eyes fill, and Kate tuts as she pulls you into her embrace.
“Hey, hey, stop that,” she coos and she holds you close, massaging your back. “I don’t give a damn about a tree or a couple of decorations right now. I care about you, and how you’re feeling. Don’t invalidate yourself like that, it’s perfectly normal to feel like this. It’s not fair, but it’s normal. And I don’t want you to beat yourself up, okay?”
You nod then sniffle, adjusting so you can tuck your head into Kate’s neck.
“Whatever you need, baby, I’m here,” Kate says, caressing your back in gentle circles and squeezing you tightly. “You just say the word,”
You cling to Kate tighter, mumbling a ‘thank you’ into her neck. You think for a moment and then add, “I think I just need to be held,”
Kate doesn’t miss a beat. “Then that’s exactly what I’ll do,”
She shifts so that her back is to the headboard, and she pulls you down to rest your head on her chest. And that’s how you stay for the next few hours—just Kate running her fingers through your hair, telling you how much she loves you, and you slowly being lulled to sleep with the combination of Kate’s gentle touch and an old Charlie Brown holiday special on the TV.
When you wake up, it’s morning; indicated by the soft light peeking through your bedroom curtains. The lack of a warm body beside you spells out Kate’s absence. You sit up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, and the first thing you register is a mini tabletop Christmas tree on the bedside table. It’s complete with tiny built-in ornaments and lights, a red base, and a star on top. Your heart warms as you look at it. And then you notice a sliver of paper on the table beside it.
You reach for it, recognizing Kate’s handwriting. ‘good morning, baby. will you meet me in the kitchen when you wake up? i love you. - Kate’
You smile and tuck the note into the pocket of your hoodie, sliding out of bed and dutifully padding down the hall to meet Kate in the kitchen.
The smell of waffles and coffee greets you, and you spot your girlfriend by the cabinets, carefully pulling down breakfast plates. You also see Lucky in his dog bed, one of the Christmas headbands you’d bought him last year perched on his head. His head pops up as he notices you standing there, his tail wagging happily, but he seems content to keep sitting right where he is. You wave at him before turning your attention back to your girlfriend.
You move to wrap your arms around her from behind, smiling as she jolts at the touch. “I saw the little tree,” you say as you push up on your toes to rest your head on her shoulder. “Thank you, baby,”
Kate smiles and turns in your arms to face you. Her arms wrap around your waist to pull you closer. “Glad it put that smile on your face,” she says. “I went out and got it while you slept. I know it’s not much, and I know it’s not a real tree or anything, but—“
“Hush,” you quiet her, leaning in to peck her on the lips. “It’s perfect,”
Kate melts when you kiss her, her forehead resting against yours. “I’m glad you think so. Because I think you’re perfect. And I’d do anything to make you happy. I know this time of year isn’t always good to you,”
“But you are,” you retort, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind Kate’s ear. “You always are. And I love you so, so much, Katie,”
With that, you kiss her again tenderly, and she kisses you back, giving your waist a gentle squeeze.
After a few more kisses and a few more soft declarations of love, the two of you finally separate to dig into the breakfast Kate’s prepared.
And you feel lighter than you have all month, because you have your person—you have Kate. And she’s all you really need.
Don’t be shy, request things! <3 Have a nice day/night
Bellamy Blake x Fem!Reader
Word count: 475
Warnings: Just warm comfy fluff!
Prompt(s): Warming Up
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(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)
Winter on Earth was nothing like winter on The Ark. Up in space, the seasons didn’t change. It was always the same cold, metal walls and the constant hum of recycled air. But down here, snow covered everything in a thick, glittering blanket, and the air bit at any exposed skin, leaving everyone in a constant state of shivering.
Bellamy and I were bundled up in layers, huddled in a small abandoned cabin, that was somehow still mostly intact. It was dark and cramped, but it had a fireplace and right now that was enough to make it feel like paradise.
“You know what you’re doing with that?” I tased as I watched him try to light a fire with some wood we managed to scavenge.
“Have some faith. I’m not gonna let us freeze out here.” He gave me a look, smirking.
The first finally caught, the small spark flickering to life, and warmth started to spread in a tiny circle around us. Bellamy tossed a few more small logs on the flames and sat back, smacking the soot from his hands. He looked rather pleased with himself. I scooted closer, desperate for any bit of warmth.
“Better?” He asked, scooting close enough that our knees were touching.
“A little.” I said, rubbing my hands together and inching even closer until our shoulders touched. Bellamy wrapped an arm around me, pulling me into his side. I rested my head against his shoulder, breathing in the scent of smoke and the faint earthy scent of the forest that clung to his jacket. The warmth of his body seeped through our layers and I felt a bit of tension slip away as the fire crackled softly.
“It’s almost hard to believe there’s any peace here.” He said quietly.
“Like, there’s a whole world out here that doesn’t know anything about what we’ve been through.” I nodded, resting my head against his shoulder.
“Sometimes, I wish we could just stay in moments like this. Where it’s just us, the quiet, and nothing else.” He shifted to look at me, his face softened by the glow of the firelight.
“Hey…” He took my hand and laced his fingers with mine.
“We’ll find a way to have more moments like this… not just surviving but living. Together.” There was something in his voice, a promise that was unspoken but understood. Despite everything we’ve been through, he still carried this hope that we could have something better. When he looked at me that way, with such certainty in his eyes, I couldn’t help but believe him. I leaned in and kissed him, feeling his warm soft lips against mine. The chill of the room melted away as his hands gently brushed my cheek and for a moment, it really felt like we were the only two people in the world.
Day 11 of Fluffcember 2024
Prompt: Slippery (Fluffcember)
Rating: T
Pairing: Jamil/Yuu (+ Jamil Tsum!)
On the surface, Jamil was the very picture of calm and courteous. He had already accepted the inevitability of the tsums return to NRC and planned accordingly. He had imagined his tsum to be mild-mannered. Perhaps it would even appreciate the small vacation separated from its version of Kalim.
Underneath, Jamil wanted to throw his tsum into the nearest pressure cooker and see how long it took its elastic body to explode.
The tsum hadn’t been an issue while he sat in the hood of Jamil’s shirt, seemingly in-sync with Jamil as he finished his chores around the dorm. It even had its own Kalim Senses and intersected Kalim before he could create more mess for them to clean up. He hadn’t understood why Leona was so against the tsums (the responsible ones anyway).
Then Yuu had stopped by the dorm.
Jamil’s tsum had immediately latched onto her. She hadn’t minded, her vulnerability to anything cute making her coo non-stop over the thing. Apparently, finding out about the tsums in Heartslabyul had sent her on a massive hunt across the campus to find the rest. Jamil had watched unamused while she snuggled her cheek against the tsum’s face.
Jamil had dismissed the behavior. It was like she was cuddling a stuffed animal. It was no reason to spark the creeping agitation that made his skin prickle.
Until the tsum attempted to murder him.
Jamil watched the tsum with growing distrust. The tsum glared back at him from Yuu’s shoulder. Yuu remained oblivious to their silent conflict while she carefully cut the vegetables for their stew. “Does it matter how big the pieces are? We’re just throwing them all in the same pot.”
Jamil edged closer to look over her unoccupied shoulder. The tsum jumped to the same shoulder like it was putting itself between them. Jamil glared at it. “The potatoes should at least be small enough to fit in your mouth. The size you have now would choke a person.”
“They could cut it smaller themself,” Yuu grumbled. She carefully chopped the mound of potatoes they had peeled into smaller chunks. “How many vegetables go into a stew anyway? I don’t remember there being celery in the last one you made.”
That’s because there wasn’t any celery in his stew, but she had interrupted his attempts to stab the tsum with a celery stick when it had come at him with a carrot in the pantry. They had both had to cover their assassination attempts when Yuu popped her head into the door. The tsum’s choice of vegetable had just been more convenient. “It’s easier to make picky eaters eat their vegetables when they’re hidden in a tastier dish.”
Yuu hummed and grabbed the nearest onion to start chopping. Jamil’s eyes stung even at a distance, but he refused to take his eyes off the tsum. That was how the tsum had taken the advantage earlier and nearly clocked Jamil with one of the pots hanging over the kitchen island. He subtly reached for the same pot. If he could trap the tsum inside with enough water to boil...
“You know,” Yuu said, turning to Jamil and prompting him to casually throw the chopped vegetables into the pot. The tsum eyed him like it knew exactly what he had been thinking. “When the plush beans appeared on campus again, I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to make it to our cooking lesson. It looks like most of them are pretty well-behaved though! We only had to pull Ace’s tsum out of a pipe in the rose maze when he thought he was going to be slick and outsmart Riddle.”
To Jamil’s chagrin, she patted the top the tsum’s head with a smile. Though it didn’t have much for a face, the sheer smugness in the tsum’s eyes had Jamil’s fingers twitching in the direction of nearby meat mallet. “Your tsum is one of the most well-behaved ones I’ve seen! Even Trey had a hard time with his after it got hold of a toothbrush. The threat of cavities was too much for his plush bean self to handle.”
Yuu went back to chopping vegetables, happily humming off-key. Jamil glowered at the smug tsum. The meat mallet was tempting...
Yuu’s phone rang from the pocket of her apron. She wiped her hands down the front of the apron before grabbing it. “Shoot! I spoke too soon. Idia’s plush bean found Ignihyde’s stash of energy drinks and is on a caffeinated rampage through the dorm. I’ll be right back.”
Yuu plucked the tsum from her shoulder and hurried out of the kitchen without taking off her apron. The tension in the kitchen thickened the moment the door swung shut. Jamil glared at the tsum and crossed his arms. “You think you’re really slick, huh? I’ve never seen someone so desperate for attention.”
The tsum squeaked and jumped in place on the counter. Jamil hummed. “I suppose I should have seen this coming. The previous tsums showed similar personalities to the people they looked like. Why wouldn’t mine keep its abilities a close secret? That was a mistake on my part. Now, get in the pot.”
The tsum predictably rebelled and took off down the counter. Jamil didn’t chase it. He didn’t need to. The slippery surface where he had oiled the counter while the tsum was distracted by Yuu’s cuddling sent it spiraling uncontrollably over the edge. Jamil chuckled when he heard it land in the pot he had left to catch it. “Unfortunately, you’re not quite as smart as you think you are. With Yuu gone now, I can—.”
Jamil yelped when his foot slid out from under him. He attempted to catch himself on the counter, but his oily trap worked against him. He landed on the ground in a heap, sputtering when the air was knocked out of him. Before he had a chance to recover, he felt the weight of the tsum on his chest. It was bigger now—more the size of his head instead of his fist—and its dark pupilless eyes glared down at him from beneath its hood. One of its stubby little nubs held up a bottle of rice vinegar.
Jamil’s eyes widened. “Don’t you dar—!”
The tsum poured the entire bottle into Jamil’s hair. Jamil shoved a handful of diced onion into its face. By the time, Yuu returned with her apron torn and her hair askew, Jamil and the tsum had managed to shove as much offensive smelling ingredients into each other's face and hair that Jamil couldn’t even smell himself.
From the way Yuu’s entire face wrinkled, she could smell everything. “What the...what are you two doing?”
From where he leaned against the counter attempting to catch his breath, Jamil pointed at the tsum. “He started it!”
The tsum bounced in protest. It looked at Yuu as pitifully as it possibly could while simultaneously hiding the jar of pickled garlic it had been flinging at Jamil. Yuu’s deadpan expression said she regretted her praises from earlier. “And here I thought I’d come back to a pot of nice stew after having stopped Idia’s caffeinated plush bean from terrorizing the entire campus. I knew you two were up to something. I just thought you’d be mature enough to keep from stabbing each other with celery.”
Jamil bit his tongue before he could childishly accuse the tsum of purposefully sabotaging their cooking lesson. His eyes widened when Yuu stepped up to the counter. “Yuu, wait!”
She slipped in a puddle of oil with a startled cry. Jamil held onto the edge of the counter as he slid his way to her. He slipped too when he reached her, but he was able to play it off as him kneeling to help her. “Did you hurt anything?”
“I think I bruised my tailbone,” Yuu said. She leaned away from him when he offered his hand. “You smell like a tossed salad left in the sun for too long.”
“What an appealing visual. Are you going to accept my help or not?”
“I’m thinking about it.” Yuu grabbed his hand as she spoke. They slowly stood with Yuu only slipping once before regaining her footing. A hopping tsum greeted them when they were face-level with the counter again. “This could have all been avoided if you two would just say how you feel instead of trying to assassinate each other.”
Jamil rolled his eyes. “Assassinating is a bit of a strong word.”
“You two were literally setting up knife traps when you thought I wasn’t looking!”
Jamil started. “You saw that?”
“Why do you think I volunteered to chop all the vegetables instead of letting you do it? Neither of you could be trusted in the moment.” Yuu tentatively loosened her grip on the counter and attempted to take a step. She quickly grabbed the counter and glared at both Jamil and the tsum when they jumped to grab her elbow. “Now we have to waste more time cleaning up before we can make our stew.”
Jamil refused to be shamed like a child scolded by his mother. He shot the tsum a glance, and their eyes met. They nodded in unison. Jamil pulled his magic pen from his pocket. “I’ll clean up the kitchen, and we’ll make a spicy curry instead. That will take less time.”
The mention of curry made Yuu’s face brighten, but she continued to scold them for “not playing well together” while Jamil cleaned. The tsum joined him on the counter after he gathered all the necessary ingredients. Together they quickly whipped up a small batch of curry to win back Yuu’s favor.
While she took happy bites of her dish, Jamil stealthily shoved the tsum into a waste basket and weighed down the lid with a heavy box of coconut milk. When Yuu asked about the tsum, Jamil casually said it had left to clean itself in the communal washroom. She shot the waste basket a pointed stare, but Jamil maintained his innocence until the tsum made itself grow big enough to burst out of the basket.
Chapter Summary: Snowed into the ski lodge, Joel and you use the time to figure out the push and pull between you.
Word Count: ~2.6k
Warnings: flirting, romantic tension, a tiny bit of swearing, mentions of Joel and reader's pasts, not much because this is mostly good old-fashioned fluff (they are so cute in this onee), slowburn
A/N: This chapter was written for day 17 of @fluff-cember (fandom: The Last of Us). I am so excited to share this because the prompts are what inspired me to write in the first place! So I wanna thank the creator of the challenge so much for that and I hope I did well! Enjoy the fluff (with a bit of angst in the middle because I can't help myself)! :)
Taglist: @mushgloomz (love her and feel free to ask to be on the taglist!)
fluffcember masterlist | masterlist
song recs: is this love - whitesnake and begin again - taylor swift ("For the first time, what's past is past")
(dividers by @cafekitsune)
Joel returns your glance and your eyes lock. The silence is full of unspoken musings. What could transpire out of this? Is your truce from the past patrols solid enough to last you for these few hours? Longer?
First to break it, you stand up and kneel in front of the red brick fireplace of the lodge, looking for leftover firewood. The lodge is getting colder as harsh gusts of the blizzard hit it. Besides, you feel like the fireplace will offer some welcome comfort. There’s not much wood, but there’s some that could work. You take a box of matches out of your jean pocket to try and light it.
Joel comes over and kneels close to you. “Let me give you a hand.”
You hand him the box of matches. He rummages through the fireplace, looking for suitable wood. He hums as he finds it, taking out a log and scraping the match against the matchbox a few times until a small flame comes to life. He lights and carefully puts the log back into the fireplace until most of the wood catches the flame, starting a small fire.
You smile as you see the fire come to life and plop down on the floor, crossing your legs in front of the fireplace. You extend your arms, warming your hands. He smiles slightly, endeared by you and follows suit.
As you sit on the floor, you scoot closer and he glances at you from the corner of his eye, wondering what you’re up to. You’re not sure if it’s Joel or you’re starved for affection, but you scoot all the way next to him, feeling warmth pooling in your stomach at the proximity. You lay your head on his broad shoulder carefully, smiling. He tenses up slightly, surprised at the contact, but before you can register it he shifts his shoulder to accommodate you.
“Comfy, are we?” He’s ribbing you, but his wide smile betrays his emotions. He’s relishing in the warmth of your touch.
You smirk. “Shut up. Your shoulder was, like, right there.”
He chuckles heartily. “Yeah? An’ you claimed it as free real estate.”
You laugh, the sound vibrating on his shoulder. Yet again, he doesn’t seem to have any intention of moving any time soon. It makes you feel giddy. You’re so close you can smell his scent. It’s... Wood, gun powder... Lavender? And his unique scent that’s become familiar to you. In the moment, you feel the urge to lean in and kiss his neck, get lost in it. No, no, too close. You refrain.
The fire is crackling against the brick as you sit in front of it in silence for a moment, watching it. It casts an orange glow at the walls close by and heaps of warmth over your cold bodies.
He seems to relax further the longer you lay there. He inhales your scent too, his breathing evening out.
“Y’know, you should feel lucky you’re getting this for free. My shoulder’s a sought out commodity.” He smirks. Back to teasing.
You smile. You think you know what he’s trying to do. “Didn’t know that.”
“Yeah, there’s a line around the block of people waitin’ for this.” He smiles cockily and murmurs as a flicker of annoyance runs past his eyes. “Mostly women.”
There it is. You smirk at his attempt at flirting. “Oh really now?”
He nods, amused at his own joke. “Ya have no idea. So don’t get too attached.”
You chuckle. “I shouldn’t get attached to laying on your shoulder? Think I can handle that.”
“Good to know. No commitment suits me just fine.” He tries not to crack a laugh. “I like to keep my options open.”
You laugh but can’t help but wonder if there’s truth to his joke.
Joel’s a very closed off man. You can sense he doesn’t want to open up fully, and commitment is a form of opening up. Not to everyone, though. You’ve been committed to guys you felt nothing for.
It felt more like a practical choice than anything else; sleeping with someone else while relying on a man for shelter would be the stupidest decision possible. It stemmed from your possessive tendencies too. You wanted those men to be only yours, so you made yourself only theirs. A clear boundary. A drawn line past which no one is allowed besides you and them.
Joel... Isn’t just a means to an end, which scares you even more. If he’s trying to tell you he’s not the commitment type, he’s not your type either.
“You sound like such a dick.” You chuckle as you joke about his claim.
He shrugs. “’M just honest.” He keeps quiet for a second, memories of losing people he used to care about passing through his mind. His voice falters a bit. “Attachment ain’t for everyone.”
You sense the melancholic tone, knowing this stems from his past. You feel slight disappointment in your gut, knowing... Joel couldn’t give you what you need. Not that you’re looking for it right now, but that tiny glimmer of hope about a “maybe” or a “someday” in the back of your mind went out.
It hasn’t been a long time knowing him. You’ll survive.
You chuckle and raise your head from his shoulder and get up, trying to play it off. “Gotta get up then. Can’t risk it.”
He turns around quickly at the loss of warmth on his shoulder, but doesn’t say anything else.
You settle on an old couch in front of the fireplace. “Ah... Comfier than the floor.”
“You’re right about that one.” He gets up too and seats himself on the couch, a pillow between you. Both of you are comfortable with the reestablished distance.
Checking out the window for the blizzard somehow stopping after around half an hour, you’re both disappointed. You turn to him. “You told me Tommy and you spend hours at the lodge on patrols.” You chuckle. “What exactly do you do?”
He smiles. “We josh around, play guitar-“
You interrupt him. Have you heard that right? Prickly, no-nonsense Joel? “No way! You play the guitar?”
He chuckles heartily. “Why’s that so surprising?”
You chuckle back. “I just... Didn’t figure you for the type to be... You know... Artistic.” You grin widely.
He smirks to himself. “I’ll have you know, back in the day, I used to play all the time. Would play for hours, annoyin’ everyone in the house.” He pauses as a wave of nostalgia hits him. “Hell, even dreamed of bein’ a singer.” He shakes his head, smiling as he remembers his teenage musings.
You smile as you listen to him intently. You know what it’s like. “I dreamed of being a singer too. Grew up in LA surrounded by it.”
He shrugs, surprised to share something like this with you. “Guess we have somethin’ in common.”
You nod and smile teasingly, turning your head to him fully. “Who would’ve thought?”
Next thing you know, you get lost in talking about your favorite artists. His favorite singer is Johnny Cash and his favorite band Pearl Jam, classics from the nineties he grew up in. He’s very surprised by your extensive music taste and yet a particular fondness for Taylor Swift. You already know he’ll use it as ammunition to tease you.
The pillow between you was moved by Joel somewhere along the conversation, and you’re both leaning your elbows on the old couch, practically jumping into each other’s sentences. Time doesn’t seem to move so slowly anymore and you feel like you could spend all the hours stuck here just... Talking to him. Looking into his hazel eyes.
He leans on the couch, his eyes glinting in the light of the fireplace, all of the shades of mossy green and light brown in full show. You get lost in them.
You realize it’s not just about the conversation. It’s about Joel’s grounding presence. You feel like nothing could shake you as long as he’s around. Usually, you’d try to bury this feeling down in the depths of you where it’s deemed unreachable, but for the moment... You let yourself feel it in full.
You get a sudden idea. “Joel?”
He turns his gaze back from the fireplace to you. “Yeah?”
You smile bashfully. “Do you have a guitar laying around here?”
He smiles slightly and shakes his head. “No... I know what you’re tryin’ to do.”
“What?” You ask playfully, acting clueless.
“I ain’t gonna play for you.” He shakes his head and raises his hands. Playing for someone seems more personal to him than you thought.
“Why not?” You chuckle and give him your best puppy eyes and a feigned pout. You don’t want to breach his boundaries, you just hope to hear a bit of his skill. “One song... Please?”
“Damn, pullin’ out the big guns.” He smirks. “Puppy dog eyes and the magic word. You’re good.”
You keep up the puppy eyed expression, hoping the long silence will make him relent.
You’re about to give up when he breaks out into a chuckle. “Fine, fine. I’ll play somethin’ for you.”
He gets up and takes the guitar out of the bedroom of the lodge, coming back to the living room. It’s a classic brown acoustic guitar, a white moth design on the fingerboard sticking out. You can tell by the way he carries it with care and the proud way he shows it off to you this one is his favorite. “Here’s my guitar. Pretty nice, huh?” He smiles at you.
You smile back. “I love it. Looks well-loved by you too.”
He nods. “Damn right. Been playing this one ever since I got back to Jackson.” He sits down on the couch with the guitar and starts tuning it, turning the pegs and strumming the individual strings, humming the tones to himself. It’s quiet, but you notice he has a husky and deep singing voice. A faint thought passes your mind; you could listen to him sing all day.
Satisfied with how the guitar is tuned, he looks up at you. “Have any requests?”
You look to the side as you think. “I don’t know... What’s your favorite one to play lately?”
He doesn’t have to think long before he settles on a song. “Ya know ‘Is This Love’ by Whitesnake?”
You shrug. A love song? Full of surprises. “Of course I do. It’s a classic.” A thought pops in and you smile. “Wait... Can you play the guitar solo?”
He smiles proudly and nods. “Damn right I can.” He prepares to play, looking down at the guitar, before he speaks. “Bear in mind, I’m a little rusty.”
You’ve never seen Joel so hesitant about anything before. You can’t help a comforting smile. “No, no, it’s alright. I can tell you’re good.”
He smiles bashfully as he starts strumming the chords of the song, humming the lyrics. The sound is rich and full, evidence of years of practice, his deep voice perfectly in tune. The melody echoes from the walls of the lodge and you find yourself mesmerized by it.
You’ve heard a lot of guitar performances, but something about this one felt special... Even as the blizzard raged on outside, you felt like only him, you and the guitar in this room existed.
“Is this love that I'm feeling?
Is this the love that I've been searching for?
Is this love, or am I dreaming?
This must be love 'cause it's really got a hold on me
A hold on me”
He plays his version of the solo and you look at his fingers moving on the guitar with awe. This was obviously practiced for hours, the classic hook sounding more soulful on an acoustic guitar. His brows are furrowed and his movement careful. You can’t help but notice... Aware of it or not, he’s trying to impress you. Warmed by the fact, you’re smiling widely.
He ends the solo and looks up at you slowly, almost as if he’s scared of your reaction.
You clap. “That was so good! Rusty, my ass!” You exclaim fervently, your impressed reaction written all over your face. You try to hold your horses and say in a softer tone. “I loved it.”
He smiles softly and shakes his head. “Ain’t that good, but thanks. Been workin’ on this for a while.”
You smile and nod. “Yeah, I can see that... You know I don’t just give out compliments.” You chuckle. “Especially not to you.”
He smirks. “And here I thought you liked me.”
You feel something sink in you as you get scared you got figured out. But he seems to be just joking. You mask your mental blunder well and grin. “Poor you.”
“Poor me indeed.” He smiles as he looks at you fondly for a moment. He clears his throat faintly and gets up from the couch to put his guitar away.
Leaning on the couch, you look at him exiting the room. You’re lying on the couch pillows on your own for a short while, the warmth of the fireplace and the winter sun going down lulling you.
You close your eyes, getting in a comfortable position for a nap. As you do, Joel comes back into the room. “Hey.” He says your name quietly.
Opening your eyes, you turn to where he’s standing with his arms crossed. “Yeah?”
You hear care in his tone. “Gettin’ sleepy now?” He grins. “You don’t gotta sleep on the couch. There’s a bedroom down the hall.”
The walk to the bedroom feels tedious, but you figure it’s probably more comfortable. You rise from the couch groggily and smile. “Thanks. I’ll be back in a bit.”
He nods as you pass him to go to the bedroom down the narrow hallway, the floorboards creaking under your step. He looks at you walking to the bedroom with a frown, but decides to keep quiet and let you.
It’s small, a big bed in it, made with white sheets and a duvet folded on the side of it. The brown plaid covered wall above it is surrounded by light wood paneling.
The sheets look very dusty, yet clean, as if this bed – surprisingly so – hasn’t been used since the outbreak. You pat some dust from the sheets before you unfold the duvet and lay down, covering yourself with it. You tuck yourself in until you feel completely wrapped up and you close your eyes.
Joel stays in the living room and you figure it’s because he doesn’t want to interrupt your nap. You like how considerate and unimposing that is. He’s giving you space, but you know he’ll be there if anything goes wrong. Not that you mind his presence, but you like knowing that, beside the closeness, you can share distance too.
You think as you turn to lay on the colder side of the pillow; no arguments this patrol without trying for it. You’re finally settling into a comfortable rhythm. You’re growing fonder of him by the day and still don’t know what to make of it. You feel powerless to stop it, not for a lack of trying.
The last thing on your mind before you drift in peaceful slumber is – for once in your life, you might just let this happen. Damn the consequences.
