#my drafts are so full of shit cuz i keep typing and going ‘no this is unnecessarily spiteful’ so it stays in the drafts away from where

[presdestigatto]

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[somany-fandoms-solittle-time]

“What’s so Special About the Moon?”

Jamil Viper x MC(insert character Mac)

(Ch. 1) – Ch. 2 – Ch. 3 – Ch. 4 – Next – Previous

This was originally supposed to be, like, a single chapter hurt/comfort before my OC (Mac) and Jamil as a song fic where they berate him and then sing a song referencing the moon… but then I had feelings and it’s becoming a more in depth character study between the two. Don’t worry! By the end of this mini series, there will be song lyrics and more sappiness… it’s just now that I’ve finished both Book 4 and Book 5, I need to reorganize the events and specific and whatnot. Some quick housekeeping as always: I tried to make Jamil to encompass both his dark & mysterious villain persona ALONG WITH him practically being a fucking child so that’s why I wrote him like *this* so yeah… I’m moving around the timeline so that Yuu/MC (aka Mac) has the weekend to GET THEIR SHIT TOGETHER LOL, Mac is about 19-20 (haven’t decided yet) and uses mixed pronouns as a heads up, Ch. 2 has a 1st draft written put still needs to be typed up and edited. If you see a typo NO YOU DIDN’T!!! This one of my first times trying a different writing doc that isn’t Google (cuz fuck Google) and it’s a little weird to get used to and edit stuff. It’s beta-d in the sense that licking the spatula while your mom bakes cookies and claiming that you helped… literally only a few paragraphs were checked over y’all.

Quick shout-out to @krenenbaker and @twst-beam for inspiring my writing thus far (and sorry for taking so long to post this lol!)

I’ll be releasing some type of overview of my OC eventually, but take these snippets as they go while I fall back in love with writing. You’ll meet Mac in full when xey are good and ready… anyway, please enjoy Chapter 1 of my new fanfiction, “What’s So Special About the Moon?”

“Here. You can use this one,” Jamil directed towards the plain (compared to the rest of the dorm) laundry… mat? There were several industrial sized washer and dryers, a couple moderate-sized one’s that would fit a regular apartment complex, and a long wall designated area for hand washed items. Jamil was keeping the door prompt open with his hips; his slight frown of concentration and the flick of his Magic Pen were the only signs of the current spell he had going. Turning around, MC was slightly surprised by the massive piles of fabric that was being corralled in via multiple a massive sheet tied to multiple brooms. They still couldn’t fully grasp the concept (and power) of magic and seeing it so casually performed on a day-to-day basis was kinda daunting.

“Thanks again for letting us use the space along with showing me how to properly clean all these fancy duds and whatnot.” the Ramshackle Perfect awkwardly trailed off. Their focus was split between stealing peaks at the Scarabia Vice Warden, not wanting to bother the already busy Sophomore, and surveying over the dusty, damaged antique pieces the two stripped from the halls of the previously abandoned dorm. Rugs, carpets, curtains, furniture covers (in varying state of disrepair) dulled of their once rich and vibrant color. The patterns were a mix of stuffy academia and the quiet comfort of a grandparents cottage living room. Both extravagant, yet understated. It’s a style lost to time, but not quite a revived ancient aesthetic.

At this point MC was fully lost in thought; they desperately needed to clean, fix, organize and decorate the dorm in preparation to host so many guests. Even with his limited memories, they had a feeling they’d never hear the end of it from his parents.

“Don’t worry about it much.” Jamil said, interrupting their musings. “Honestly, I’m doing this as much for myself as I am helping you.

With a flick of his wrist, Jamil organized the seemingly random crumbled piles of fabric by condition, color and use. His movements while cleaning were quick, smart, and efficient-- all while patiently showing Mac which order to start in along with the best way to clean them.

“Ya’ know…” MC broke the relative quietness between the two workers, “Even with everything thing that happened over break, I understand why Kalim still trusts you; I almost can believe that you’re not that bad of a guy.” Jamil gave xem a startled (and exasperated) look, but they continued before he could respond: “I fail to see how helping the person who ruined your ‘world domination’ plans—”

“They were hardly World Domination level!” He quickly snapped. His embarrassment led to him tugging his hood further down his face, teeth slightly clenched, and dilated eyes as MC continued listing all the ways he’s “helped” them out.

The magic-less Perfect laughed to themselves the more conflicting emotions flew across Jamil’s face. Eventually those same emotions were compressed behind a cold, smooth mask. Limestone slabs and stiff mud brick walls were swiftly constructed between the two working-class students. Something about it didn’t sit right with Mac.

“Hey I’m not saying what you pulled wasn’t a dick move! But you’re also not the first overly-traumatized teen boy I’ve had to deal with… and between what you’ve said about yourself, plus thing’s I’ve heard and seen, I’m starting to think you’re not nearly as complicated as you think you are.” The longer they argued *to* him, the more Jamil’s mask began to crack; there were a few holes in his walls he didn’t account for. Xe’s a tad more observant than I remember, but weirdly just as persistent, Jamil internally rolled his eyes.

“I could still change my mind and send you back to deal with the Pomefiore Wrath(tm),” He mumbled while gracefully lugging the newly cleaned (and damp) furniture coverings into an empty drier. Despite his harsh threat, MC still remembered him assuring the other this laundry room was only ever used by him after Kalim’s parties.

The large machines and larger working space was specifically added for the servant to clean and repair any decor or Asim Family Treasures when Kalim’s recklessness caused a larger mess than usual. This meant that Mac and Grim (who was originally supposed to be helping… where the hell was he anyway?) could do as many loads needed without worry. On top of the borrowed space, the Housewarden himself had cheerily has assured them, his Oasis Maker would replace all the water used ten times over!

Mac’s thoughts were interrupted once again as Jamil relented, “I told you, I’m doing this to help me.” After receiving an unconvinced eyebrow raise, Jamil began to explain, “Kalim might’ve announced us as equals but I still have a job to do. If he got sick while spending Allah knows how long in a dusty, dirty, shabby condemned building like Ramshackle I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“It’s not nearly that bad anymore!” the sole-human resident of said dorm argued, but was quickly shut up with a tired gesture towards the untouched loads of laundry left to be done.

“On top of that,” Jamil smirked “Even a common peasant like myself wouldn’t sleep in a rundown garbage heap if I can help it.” His smirk slowly slide off his face from his face as the insulted Perfect almost ripped the handful of soapy doilies, that they were previously scrubbing by hand, as xey prepared a retaliation.

“OK, first of all! This whole Inferior-Superior shtick isn’t going to prove your point. If I’m being totally honest, I’m pretty used to the bratty, arrogant attitude of teenagers by now (even if I wasn’t Leona is a thousand times worse).” They turned their full body to face the 2nd year boy before continuing the assault. “Secondly, even just doing the bare minimum would’ve been fine, considering I’ve slowly been deep cleaning them place room by room. This is just last minute cleaning considering I wasn’t expected to host six extra people in two days.”

The shock of Mac’s care and attention to detail couldn’t win over Jamil’s newfound freedom to be right… and sassy while doing it. “Keep in mind you wouldn’t be the only one having to deal with Vil. His expectations are much higher than my personal standards—”

“Getting there!” MC interrupted again. “It’s not like Vil and whoever else couldn’t magic things better or get things done over at Pomefiore.” However, their fire started to die down with their obvious lack of understanding of magic. Not that Xeir level of intellect ever stopped them from talking out of their ass during debates… even if this wasn’t exactly shaping up to be anything like Debate Club back home.

“Not the point!” Mac built back their steam after thoughtlessly shaking off any internal distractions. “Third of all,” Jamil groaned not-so-quietly, “third of all, you didn’t have to show me how to do it. Nor did you have to continue helping me. There’s only so much I could pay you back in favors and it’s not like you’ll make back the time and energy spent. You’re obviously a bit of a piece of shit but I don’t totally blame…”

Jamil suddenly gave Mac his full attention. He smoothed any emotional tells from his face and readied himself to actively dissect what ever left xeir mouth and any messages in between the lines. The silence prompted Mac to drip extra sincerity as they begin to ramble without thinking.

“… I get why you did what you did. You’re not totally forgiven, but it’s not like I’ll hold a grudge over you forever. Whenever I joke about Winter Break I thought you knew it was just that: a joke.”

The two stared at one another for a few beats. Jamil betrayed nothing that he was thinking, but Mac could practically feel the exasperation flooding off of him in great waves. The disbelief pushing and pulling off of him, despite remaining stone cold to zeir admission. So, of course, they continued with slight for fever:

“Yeah, okay, you held us all prisoner, enslaved via hypnosis your entire dorm, and nearly killed multiple students. Twice.” Mac cringed at their own blunt statement, “… But why would you go as far as you did, if you didn’t care! What your parents, and more specifically your culture, put you through wasn’t fair—but you obviously still love and cherish them!”

At this, he seemed to get even more guarded. It felt patronizing to be hold how he supposedly felt or why he should feel a specific way. They hadn’t been there. They hadn’t grown up as a Viper in the Desert, constantly reminded by Kalim’s Mirage of wealth what he could never have. They didn’t know the FIRST thing about the Scalding Sands—!

“… How do you know anything about my parents? Did Kalim--?!” He choked out infuriated at the mere implication.

“Relax Viper! It’s all in the Secret of The Ooze™”

“What?”

“Never mind…”

The usual absurdity of MC’s references (much to xeir chagrin that no one seemed to understand them) Jamil allowed himself a shadow of a smirk. Right about now they’d drop what they were saying and instead empathize with him over terrible bosses. They’d both fall back into a familiar pattern of quiet understanding while making playful small talk; maybe Xe’d make a remark over how “hellish” the desert temperature is and moan about being “a poor Northern forced into the sun” before dragging them both off to grab an abominably sweet drink that Kalim would still put sugar in. Xe had always been could at mediating with the other students at NCR.

However, they didn’t drop it. They continued to push him… especially when they realized that he expected the conversation to have ended and started to relax. Xey pushed and pushed and pushed. Finally, they had circled back to him rebelling from his status.

“What? You think I’d be Happier staying a lowly servant?! I’d rather cut my own tongue out than remain bending to Kalim’s will for the rest of my days.” He huffed, still not stopping his assault on the pile of laundry in front of him.

A frustrated sigh left Mac as Xey tried to get their point across, “THAT’S NOT WHAT I’M SAYING!… Obviously, you don’t love being forced into child labor or having to pretend to be something you’re not, but that doesn’t mean you’re totally being honest with yourself either. Rebelling adolescents often do a complete 180 of who they once presented as in an extreme action to feel validated.”

Jamil scoffed in indignation at the impromptu therapy session he’d been forced into.

“Just because you were forced to lie sometimes as ‘Servant Jamil’ doesn’t mean those memories or feelings weren’t authentic!”

“My Childhood, my Pride, my ENTIRE LIFE was stolen from me before I could even open my eyes, Mac! Who could cherish that sort of future?”

“I’m not disputing that! I’m not trying, in any way, to imply that what you went through didn’t fucking suck. But just because you’ve started saying the quiet part out loud doesn’t mean you’re being totally honest either. Switching one mask for another just means nothing has changed but your ability to bitch about-it to the kid you literally Grew Up With, Jamil.” A tired resignation was growing in their eyes as they headed to the end of xeir rant.

It was clear MC was starting to speak in circles and xey weren’t going to be able to get through to them. A heavy weight sunk deep in their chest, slowly sliding to xeir stomach the more he misunderstood the magic-less student. I saw him drown in the depths of his own helplessness and self-pity, but even after he’s been pulled out it’s like he can’t help but dive back in for a swim. It was a suffocating thought while Mac watched as Jamil once again went stone-faced… Like what he was about to say would be his final shield before walking away. It’s a shame that the Ramshackle Resident had become too used to throwing bombs over walls and blowing verbal shields to smithereens after months of being stuck in Twisted Wonderland.

“I’m not sugarcoating or bowing down to anyone anymore. I won’t bite my tongue. I won’t put on a Happy Face to Kalim’s idiotic, half-thought out ideas again. I’m slowly gaining my freedom, something you clearly don’t understand. Just because you’re as blind as he is doesn’t mean anything! What more could you want from me?!” He hissed his final insult before finally stepping away from his station. Not leaving the room, he aggressively got himself a cup of water from one of the sink and gulped the unfiltered water down.

“Just because you’re not hiding your bitter, knee-jerk reaction from an unfair world doesn’t mean you aren’t still hiding away and lying about your more vulnerable emotions.” Mac whispered in an emotionless tone. “Cutting a part of your past off and pretending it was never there is doing yourself a disservice and lying to those that still care about you… And there sure-as-shit isn’t much that I hate more than a Fucking Liar.”

. . . . . .

The lacy doilies sat in a sudsy basin, left forgotten as the two students stood a mere paces from each other—both maintaining an uncomfortably intense eye contact. The sloshing thump of the washers and stirring hum of driers harmonizing were the only song to accompany the two’s stare down. A short hiccup as Mac took a drawn out breath was the only reaction between the two of them. The combined heat of Scarabia’s sun (barely past 10am) and the humidity of continued use of machinery didn’t help the suffocating air in the wide laundry room. Not to mention the loud, stifling silence to boot.

MC usually held back such honest commentary (not that they weren’t blunt) unless Xe deemed it necessary: think high stakes and a sense of urgent drama. But something about Jamil and Kalim’s situation reminded them of himself. The two’s intertwined dance of class, history, loyalty and betrayal, friendship and loss, and such overwhelming guilt reminded the dimension hoping stranger of home. Whatever that meant.

But this was no time to get lost in their own problems and Trauma’s. They’d went too far (again) and that means xey should be the bigger person (again) and deescalate the situation before he hated them (AGAIN). Which means, MC would be the one to break the silence and run away again.

“Ya’ know what? Grim’s probably burned the school down already. Don’t worry about,” Ze gestured blindly to the numerous stations they’d started, “this mess. I’ll rope my little Rat Gremlin and the Freshies into finishing this up. Hell, I could probably convince Rugs to pitch in for lunch or something. Bully the Music Club with helping in exchange of random sheet music I still remember from home.”

Their rambles became more spastic as they noticed Mr. Sugar, Spice and Not-So-Nice break out of his own trance and try to reply. “Seriously! Just enjoy the break… Not that it’s my place or responsibility to be butting in anyway. I will be back in, like, 10 minutes and from here-on-out minding my own damn business. Sorry. Whatever. See you sometime after Sunday, I guess?” Their entire monoluge Mac was slowly backing out of the room before turning around in xeir spot and just short of sprinting their way out of the dorm. A few passerby Scarabia students stopped to eavesdrop on xeir muttering… watch them leave.

Without getting a word in Jamil stood unmoving, watching the Ramshackle Perfect leave swifter than the desert wind shifting the dunes. Almost on auto-pilot, he simply left to go back to his room and do as he was told; enjoy his break. His day off. The day he could do what he liked and didn’t necessarily have to prioritize work. A day he spent working to help and assist the pitiful, magic-less loser that was dropped-kicked into another reality and forced to play nice with a University filled with overpowered and hormonal teenagers while having no way home… And in return was insulted, psychoanalyzed, and thrown aside before he could get a word in edgewise.

“Son of a STREET RAT!!!!!” It was clear he’d need a few hours to calm down before he could even think of trying to enjoy the rest of his Saturday off.

[thediamondgirl17]

Childe/Tartaglia x F! Pregnant Reader (Hc/Fic)

You know how many WIPs I have in my draft section? A lot, I also have a few requests I'm working on.

...But what am I doing instead?

Writing shit like this because I have had Tartaglia on the brain.

As always if you like this and want to request more of them feel free to do so!

Not proof read

SFW - Pg. 13 (but if your actually 13 then like what are you doing on my page?? Please save your innocence) May include mentions of miscarriages, cursing, suggestive language, blood, gore, etc. It's Childe, what did you expect? Also mentions of his real name just cuz it's easier to type than Tartaglia.

Tartaglia and yourself weren't necessarily trying to have a baby

But it wasn't like the two of you had been taking precautions on it either

He had expressed his desire for a big family, and you agreed

This happened during a very inappropriate time but that's a story for another day

Working with him in the Fatui even prior to your relationship just made things easy for you two to be near each other a lot

When you found out it was a bit surprising since you two had been quite active for literal months but you hadn't gotten pregnant before

For a few days you had felt utterly miserable after waking up. However, due to the fact that Ajax was a Harbinger, he was always either up and out of the house before you, or away on a trip to a different country. He had been gone for about a week in Liyue for some work. So of course he wouldn't have been there to notice the early signs of pregnancy in you.

After rolling yourself out of bed and feeling the cold Shneznyan floor under your feet, you adorned your usual Fatui wear, minus the face mask, and trudged your way to the Fatui headquarters, deciding to get checked out by one of the medics in case you were sick. The whole way there you had felt utterly miserable, abnormally cold, nauseous, hungry, tired, and sore. It was like every issue you ever had was just building up on you all at once.

"Good morning," You mumbled after practically stumbling into the building. You were met with unexcited 'Mornings' back, and went all the way up to the medic area in the building.

After explaining everything to the doctor, she had left with a clipboard full of information from your check up. She came back in with a smile and some papers she had just written out.

"Well, you aren't sick I can tell you that. However you are experiencing morning sickness." She said putting the papers down beside you.

"Are you telling me that I'm...?"

"Pregnant? Yes. It's still really early in your pregnancy, but everything checks out." She nodded a bit.

Now actually telling Ajax was a different thing all together

He came home about a week after you had found out about your little bun in the oven

You had decided to tell him at a time that was random and would catch him off guard

Even better, you had found a time when he was with some of his collogue Harbingers

"And what do we need to be doing now (Y/n)?" Signora asked looking down at her nails. Scaramouche was standing in the doorway with his arms crossed, Dottee was writing in a journal, and some of the other harbingers were just hanging about. Ajax was currently sparring with one of the other harbingers for fun.

"The Tsaritsa has ordered a meeting for all of you in about two hours, between now and then you need to submit copies of paperwork into the Recourse department to look over them." You flipped the page. Reading through a few of the Harbinger's schedules for the day so they would know what the outline looked like for the day. However a stupid smirk spread across your lips as you got to Ajax's schedule. "Okay, so this morning like everyone else you need to submit your papers, file a few documents, make sure to clean your desk area or appoint another member to do it, find time in your schedule to celebrate our pregnancy, then go to the meeting with the other harbingers-," You were about to keep reading the list as if nothing abnormal was on it, but glanced up just after you announced it.

Apparently his vision went off without him knowing, because a very tiny version of his whale jumped up from a puddle on the floor and splashed down soaking both you, him, and his sparring partner.

"What did you just say?" He asked tilting his head.

"You need to clean your-,"

"Not that," He spoke as if he was talking to one of his enemies. You just got a smug smile.

"Oh? Celebrating the pregnancy?"

"Are you...is this a joke?" He asked tossing his arm to the side, allowing his bow to dissipate.

"No...I have the documentations in my hand actually, I'd like you to review them-!" You yelped as you felt his arms wrap around you and his head fall into the crook of your neck. Of course the ginger haired man was embarrassed to be seen as this venerable in front of the harbingers, but how could he not? All of his dreams were coming true.

"Great, the human is carrying another human. Can we get on with this please?" Scaramouche grumbled.

Of course there was an argument over if you should still be coming into work or not

That was a whole thing that ended up very ugly

"And if someone walks into that building wanting to get revenge on the Fatui and I'm not there! Then what happens?! I loose both of you!" Ajax was getting frustrated.

"I told you I can take care of myself! I've kicked your ass in our spars before!" You yelled back, the pregnancy hormones making you more defensive than before. "I have a vision for a reason!"

"But not while you were pregnant! You are not coming to work again, end of story!" He said with his arms crossed over his chest.

"I'm going to work!" You shouted.

"I make plenty of money for the both of us!" He said with his voice slowly raising after each sentence.

"It's about fulfilling my duty as a member of the Fatui!"

"Oh is it? Fine, I'll have you demoted then! Oh you know what, why don't I just fire you then? I do have the power to do that." He laughed mockingly. And you paused, feeling your eyes well up.

"You wouldn't...," You hissed.

"It's just a job."

"I want to be with you...and d-do my part...," You tensed up and stormed out of the room.

It took a few hours before Ajax went into your shared bedroom and climbed into bed beside you. He rolled over so he was the big spoon and put his warm hand over your lower stomach.

"How about you just handle the paperwork?" He whispered. You nodded silently, tired and puffy from crying.

If you thought Ajax was protective of you BEFORE you are SEVERELY mistaken

He always makes sure there's at least one mirror maid and one skirmisher within earshot of you

He always personally escorts you everywhere, and if he can't do it he always appoints a different harbinger to

The day Scaramouche was appointed to you was...interesting

You were about four months pregnant now, with a slight bump. Heartburn had been your worst enemy this month, however Ajax would constantly reassure you:

"It just means the baby is going to have a lot of hair! Hopefully like mine!" He would always say it in heartburn fits you were having.

Ajax was off to Mondstat for the day to collect some papers and some information from a couple of poor unsuspecting people. So in return for Childe doing his dirty work for him, Scaramouche had agreed to watch over you for the day. The Balladeer was a very intimidating person, but after having worked closely with him for a while you didn't feel uncomfortable around him. However you did notice that his thin suspicious eyes would glance down at your stomach every now and then.

"Something wrong?"

"No." He states simply and paused a moment before speaking again. "How is that human surviving in your stomach acid?"

"Excuse me?"

"How is it alive?"

"...You aren't...serious are you?" You asked with furrowed eyebrows.

"Are you mocking me?"

"No it's just...you've never seen pregnancy before?"

"Of course I have human, do you know how old I am? Besides I spend my time researching battle plans and getting stronger. Why would I want to waste my precious time learning about the way a human grows another human." He stated before looking back down at the book he was reading.

It then hit you that he probably was never spoken to about this matter. Due to his history, at what point would someone have taught him this stuff? And suddenly you felt sympathy towards the purple haired harbinger.

"Here...," You sighed and dug around in your satchel through the many books on pregnancy, and pulled out the one that explained how the pregnancy worked. You handed it to him. Reluctantly he took it back from you and hmphed.

"When it comes out, will it be working here?" The Balladeer said with his arms crossed. "I don't want another Childe running amok."

"Do you really know nothing about babies and children?"

"Of course I do...,"

"So you know that they need to be watched until they are able to walk and talk?"

"You have to teach them how to walk and talk?" He asked with a disgusted look. You offered a small sigh and began guiding him through the process of raising children.

The day you first felt the baby kick was also quite fun

It was just a few days after your meeting with Scaramouche

It had also taken you by surprise

This was a very important meeting between some of the harbingers and some of the higher ranking Fatui soldiers. You were taking down notes from what was going on at the meeting. Signora and Dotte were debating over a stupid topic on Mondstat when you felt a sharp pain in your abdomen and fell forward onto the table a bit, catching yourself with your hands on the table.

Your eyes were wide and you were panting, all eyes landed on you, and Ajax was beside you as fast as lightning (you assumed he used his delusion) and put his hand on your back.

"What happened?" He asked.

"Fucker kicked me in the ribs." You panted and sat up straight again, leaning back in your chair. There was silence and then came a hardy laugh from around the table in multiple directions.

"A menace to society like it's father." Signora laughed, then went a bit quiet. "Still kicking?" She asked. You shut your eyes for a moment and jumped a bit at the next kick.

Immediately Ajax's hand was on your stomach as he felt the little kicks. His smile was small and soft as the baby mercilessly kicked at your stomach. He laughed a bit and shook his head.

"Looking for a fight...," Ajax pointed out, and you laughed a bit.

"May I feel?" Signora asked a bit out of the blue, however didn't look at you.

"Hurt her and I'll kill you." Childe said with a smile. The blonde just rolled her eyes and got up from her seat, running her cold hand over your stomach, earning another little kick from within you.

"Very feisty...," She chuckled a bit. You looked up at the Balladeer.

"Want to feel?"

"Why would I?" He shot back.

We all know that later on he asked to feel...

I think I'll make the "meeting the family," "making the baby," and "after having the baby," Things separately if you guys are interested

[2dmenenthusiast]

Warmth - a Bakugou x Reader Christmas special

its finally done hhhhhh I love how I was just like “Oh yeah I’ll do a short little fic for Christmas” and then I ended up typing this long ass fic. I mean, its not that long but it took me days to write cuz I lack motivation always so it feels long lmao. Anyways, haven’t wrote for my explodey boy bakugou yet so here it is! Let me know if I gave the reader any specific pronouns or features by accident and I’ll fix it right away! I hope you all enjoy! Please feel free to reblog if you wanna give my fic more exposure, I'd really appreciate it 😚

Summary: You get caught in the middle of a snowstorm, and when you get home, you’re desperately craving the warmth of your exploding, ragey boyfriend. 

Word count: 3.3K

Warnings/other info: swearing, itty bitty reference to sexy times, spoiler for Bakugou’s hero name, just a lot of fluff (you guys are so mean to each other tho lmao)

You hated winter. Actually, scratch that. Let’s rephrase. You hate snow. No, you had nothing against the actual season. Winter brought you cute Christmas movies and catchy songs, as well as the gift-giving holiday itself. However, snow was a demon, and it could fuck right off. Especially when it was blowing directly into your face like it was now, your snow-covered boots trudging through the thick snow as you held grocery bags in each of your gloved hands. Even though you were wearing a thick winter coat and hat, and had your scarf covering half of your face, you felt like you were about to shiver out of your own skin and god you could barely fucking see with all of this snow going directly into your eyes.

“‘It’s right down the street, y/n, just walk there.’ What am I, fucking stupid?” you muttered.

You had figured it would be better to just walk to the store rather than using up gas or spending money on transportation, and fuck were you dumb for making that decision. Bakugou had warned you too, taking one look outside and telling you it would be better to just go get groceries tomorrow. But noooo, you just had to get it done today. And honestly, it looked like the roads were gonna be shitty for the next few days, so better now than later. Speaking of the roads, there were barely any cars driving on them, which was expected. The plow didn’t look like it had come through yet. However, a vehicle slowly came towards you, going under the speed limit to avoid sliding on the road, and you could hear The Christmas Song playing loudly from inside as it passed. Chestnuts roasting on an open fire? Yeah, the only thing going to be roasting on an open fire was your ass the second you walked through the door. And by an open fire, you meant the heater, which Bakugou better have on full fucking blast, or else you swore you were going to wring his neck.

As your apartment building became closer in view, you doubled your efforts and tried to speed up your pace, but the snow made it almost impossible when it was almost past your shins. Still, you grit your teeth and pushed through, letting out a relieved groan when you walked through the front door of your building and felt heat blast you in the face. Releasing a sigh, your grip tightening on the grocery bags as you traversed up the stairs to your apartment, and when you jammed your keys in the lock and pushed through the door, it was just as you suspected. Too fucking cold.

“He’s dead. He’s a dead man. He knew I was going out in the fucking arctic tundra that is the city right now, but he chose to keep the thermostat at fucking 70 degrees?!” you thought, grumbling to yourself as you set the bags down in the kitchen and marched over to the thermostat.

“Hey, take your fucking boots off, will you? You’re tracking snow.”

You raised your middle finger in the direction the voice came from, not even looking back

at your boyfriend as you turned the dial of the thermostat and watched the numbers go up until you were satisfied. Turning to look at Bakugou with a glare, you said something that he could tell was filled with frustration and anger, but he could barely hear you when you were talking through your scarf, raising an eyebrow as if to silently say, “what the fuck are you saying?” Rolling your eyes, you toed off your boots and hung up your coat, taking off your gloves and hat next before unwrapping your scarf from around your face and neck.

“I said you’re a fucking maniac. How are you not freezing?” you asked, hurrying past Bakugou to your shared bedroom so that you could change into something warmer.

Bakugou just scoffed, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest as he watched you change. “You remember what my quirk is, right?”

Slipping one of Bakugou’s large hoodies over your head, you let out a sigh. “Oh right, I forgot that along with the ability to blow shit up, you’re also a walking heat box,” you said, throwing the hood over your head as you turned to your boyfriend with a small pout.

He just looked at you with an amused smirk, a single eyebrow quirked as he looked you up and down. He had to admit, he’d never get tired of seeing you in his clothes. Though he quickly became worried when a mischievous grin appeared on your face, and he had no time to react when you were running forward and slipping your hands underneath his shirt, wrapping your arms around his bare torso.

“Gah! Shit, you’re fucking freezing!” he yelled, trying to push you off of him, but you just tightened your hold as you buried your face in his chest. “Hey! Don’t you get comfy, get the hell off of me.”

“But you’re so waaarm,” you whined, looking up at him with cute puppy dog eyes. You weren’t lying, he was very warm, and you’d be damned if you pulled away from him anytime soon.

Letting out a growl through clenched teeth, Bakugou gripped your thighs in his hands and suddenly lifted you, and you let out a noise of surprise, not expecting your feet to come off the ground as your legs automatically wrapped around him so that you wouldn’t fall. Carrying you back into the living room, he threw you on the couch and pinned you with a glare when you tried to move, not walking away until he was certain you wouldn’t get up from that couch. Once he turned his back to you, you sat up on your knees and looked over the back of the couch as Bakugou walked into the kitchen, bending over the reach into one of the bags, and holy fuck his ass in those sweatpants was downright fucking sinful. As the cool kids would say, he was, “double cheeked up on a Thursday afternoon.”

“It’s Saturday, and stop staring at my ass, you damn perv,” Bakugou grumbled without looking back at you, and you pursed your lips as you raised your hands in surrender.

“Not my fault you’re so dummy thicc.”

“For the love of god, stop watching TikTok.”

You just laughed and stood from the couch, walking into the kitchen and leaning against the counter as you watched your boyfriend put the groceries away. “You don’t have to do that, you know. I can put them away.”

“Nonsense. You were just out freezing your ass off in the snow. Now get back on that couch before I throw you on it again,” he said.

You smiled at the kind gesture. While Bakugou was often rude and uncouth, not making an effort to hide his frustration or disdain for certain people or things, there was a soft spot deep down in there, and you were lucky enough to be one of the few people he showed it too. Of course, it was hardly willingly. You were persistent as hell, getting under his skin the moment you started going to UA with him. However, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like your persistence.

Letting out a small hum to yourself, you leaned over and pressed your lips against his cheek, his skin warming up under your touch. “You’re cute.”

A light pink dusted his cheeks as you walked back to the couch and plopped down onto the soft cushions, grabbing the fluffy blanket hanging over the back and draping it around your shoulders. No, if anyone in this relationship was cute, it was you. With the way you stole his clothes and just seemed to always make them look better, or made him his bento lunch with cute little notes inside that he secretly kept in his desk and would look at whenever he needed a little pick-me-up. You probably didn’t realize how much he noticed every little thing you did, but he did, and it made him fall more in love with you every day. Of course, he wasn’t very eloquent and it was hard for him to express how he felt with words, but he was a believer in how actions spoke louder.

“Hey, dipstick! You almost done? I’m about to freeze my ass off over here and I need my cuddle buddy,” you yelled from the living room, and Bakugou’s eyebrow twitched as he scoffed, running a hand over his face. You just had to ruin it, didn’t you?

“Yeah, yeah, wait a sec, would you? Not my fault your body can’t regulate temperature like a normal fucking human being.”

Your head popped up, looking over the couch at your boyfriend with an incredulous look on your face. “‘Normal?!’ What about you is normal, Mr. I-get-unnecessarily-ragey-and-blow-shit-up? Hm?”

“Oh and you think you’re so normal when you bought fucking ice cream in the middle of goddamn winter,” he said, holding up the tub of ice cream you recently bought on your trip to the store.

“Ice cream is good for any time of the year! And you have no room to judge me. It could be a hundred degrees out and you’ll be scarfing down a bowl of spicy ramen like it’s your last meal.”

“You don’t hear me complaining about it though, do you?”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest as you pouted. “Jerk. you know, I hope your quirk just one day combusts and you blow up your own face.”

“Fuckface.”

“Asshole.”

“Dumbass.”

“Mama’s boy.”

Eyes widening, he dropped the last grocery bag on the floor and stomped over to the couch. If you were any normal person, you probably would’ve been cowering in fear just from the pro-heroes intense stair. But you had been with Bakugou for a while now, and what “normal” person would date someone whose first draft of their hero name was Lord Explosion Murder anyway? He placed his hands on the top of the couch, looking down at you as you stared up at him with a shit-eating grin on your face.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

“Oh, I think you heard me.”

“Take it back or I’m blowing up all of your Deku shirts.”

You gasped dramatically, placing both of your hands over your heart as you gaped at your boyfriend before narrowing your eyes. “You wouldn’t.”

He didn’t say anything, simply raising an eyebrow at your challenge before walking towards your shared bedroom without another word. Oh. Oh, he was being serious. Scrambling off the couch, you ran after him.

“No! Nononono, wait. Ugh, All right!”

He turned to look at you, one of your shirts of the Pro hero Deku held tight in his fist and a smirk on his face that meant trouble. You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest as you looked at the nearby wall, not wanting to see that stupid little grin on his stupid face.

“You… You’re- not a mama’s boy,” you muttered under your breath, coughing to make the words more unintelligible.

“I’m sorry, what did you say? I think I feel my hand warming up a bit.”

“Ugh, fine! You’re not a mama’s boy. Happy?”

Grin widening, he dropped the shirt and walked over to you in long strides, closing the distance quickly and placing his hands on your waist. “See? Was that so hard?”

“Absolutely teeth-pulling,” you said, dropping your head on his chest as he chuckled, bringing a hand up to gently pat your head. Of course, there wasn’t a lot about you two that was so different from each other. You both had a mutual hatred for backing down. He then looked over at the bed where the green-haired hero’s smiling face stared back at him, and he scowled.

“Why do you have so many shirts of that damn nerd anyway?”

“I don’t have that many, Katsu.”

“You have like ten. You don’t have any merch of me.” His grip on you tightened possessively, and if he wasn’t aware of it, you certainly were, smiling against his chest before lifting your head.

“Why would I need merch when I have the real life thing right here?” you asked, poking at his abs. “Besides, it’s not like I bought them. They were gifts whenever he had new designs come out.”

“And you couldn’t just refuse?”

“Even if you have some weird tension with him, that doesn’t mean I can’t be friends with him, dummy.” You lightly flicked his forehead and slipped out of his grasp as you walked back out to the living room, and he followed close behind with furrowed brows.

“Weird tension? The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

You just looked at him with raised eyebrows and shrugged, dropping down onto the couch before pulling out your phone. It took him a second to understand what you were getting at, and when he did, he wanted to vomit up his lunch.

“Oh, you’re sick.”

You threw your hands up. “I’m not saying I ship it! Your Twitter followers certainly do, though.”

“Yeah well, they’re all weirdos anyway,” he said, sitting down next to you and throwing an arm around your shoulders, and you immediately relaxed into him, content with the warmth he seemed to produce 24/7. “The only person I wanna be…” he grimaced, shaking his head, “shipped with is you.”

You smiled, looking up at Bakugou as you placed your hand on his chest. “I think people would if we didn’t constantly insult each other while we’re out in public. And you know, if you were actually affectionate with me.”

“I’m affectionate!” he yelled, arm tightening around you. “Those damn extras don’t need to see that shit anyway. Not like it’s any of their business.”

You chuckled and moved to straddle Bakugou’s thighs, hands taking their time as you dragged them up his muscular torso and splayed your fingers over his chest. You admired the man below you with a small smile on your face, his hands moving so that they rested on your thighs, giving them a small squeeze, and you watched his tongue swipe over his bottom lip as he seemed to look at you with that same red-eyed intense stare that he always did. Leaning down, you placed a slow kiss against his lips but pulled away before he could deepen it, and he chased your lips with a quiet growl as you let out an amused huff.

“Would you…” You could tell he was hesitant, never knowing how to properly express what he wanted to say, especially when he was feeling vulnerable. You placed your lips against his cheek, gently holding his face in your hands to try and reassure him. “Would you like me to be more affectionate in public? Would that… make you happy?”

Brows furrowing, your lips formed into a frown as you sat back, hands slipping into his. “Katsu… we’ve been together since our high school days. If I had any complaints, wouldn’t I have voiced them by now?” He opened his mouth, but you didn’t give him the chance to respond, grabbing his face again. “Listen to me for a second. Despite what people think about your rough edges and your unpleasant attitude-”

“Watch it.”

You smiled. “I wouldn’t change a damn thing about you. Your random outbursts, your sailor mouth, your shitty nicknames for all of our friends. Those things are what make you Bakugou Katsuki. Not some shitty tabloid with that stupid headline that’s like “Ten things to know about Pro Hero Dynamight!” or whatever. They’re all bullshit. No one sees the side of you that I get to. No one sees the big softie that you really are.” You lightly poked Bakugou’s chest with a giggle, and he swatted at your hand.

“Hey, I’m not soft, you dumbass,” he grumbled, and you just laughed as you leaned into him and wrapped your arms around his neck, resting your forehead on his shoulder.

“Keep telling yourself that.”

You heard him sigh and felt his arms wrap around you, happy in his strong embrace. There was nowhere you felt safer than in Bakugou’s arms. They were always there to hold you at night, or to pull you into a hug when you were feeling upset. You loved his arms, but you loved him in general. Everything about him always had butterflies fluttering around in your stomach. When he would gaze at you like you were the only other person in the world, or when he’d come home after a particularly rough day, and you’d offer to help him relieve some stress, but he’d insist that the only thing on his mind at the moment was you underneath him while he memorized and tasted every inch of you. Yeah, you were a love-struck idiot, but so was he. Maybe even more so.

You were brought out of your thoughts when the lights started to flicker before going out, and you waited a few seconds for them to come back on, but they never did. Are you fucking kidding me?

“Um… Katsuki?”

“Hm.”

“Please tell me our power didn’t just go out.”

“Our power didn’t go out.”

You smacked his chest. “Don’t be a smartass.”

“Then don’t say stupid shit.”

You let out a groan before whining out his name, and he sighed as he lifted you off of him and walked into the kitchen to grab his phone. It was like you could already feel the cold seeping back into the apartment through the cracks in the doors and windows, and you shivered as you grabbed the blanket from before and wrapped it around your body. Bakugou then came back into the living room, letting out a sigh and tossing his phone onto the couch.

“Some idiot driving in this shit-storm hit a pole and took down a transformer. Power won’t be back until the morning.”

Great. Just magnificent. Who the fuck decides to drive in a snowstorm? Letting out a huff, you stood and went to the kitchen to find a lighter before lighting every candle you two had, hoping they would provide enough light for the night. After making sure at least one candle was in every room, you went back to find Bakugou gathering all the blankets he could and raised an eyebrow.

“What? We both know our comforter won’t be enough to warm your shivering ass.”

“But I have you, don’t I? My personal heater,” you said, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet as you smiled.

Bakugou scoffed. “Yeah, can’t wait for you to suck all the heat out of me.”

“Oh piss off. You love my cuddles.”

Before he could give you another snarky remark, you turned on your heel and walked to your bedroom, pulling back the covers and immediately tucking yourself underneath them. But of course, it wasn’t warm enough. When Bakugou walked into the room, you stuck a hand out from under the blanket and made a grabbing motion, and he just chuckled at you before throwing an extra blanket on top of you and climbing underneath the covers to lay next to you. You immediately sought him out, desperate for his warmth as you wrapped yourself around him and nuzzled into his chest, and his arms looped around you as he tangled your legs together.

“Christ, you’re fucking freezing,” he grumbled.

“Shut up and hold me tighter,” you said voice muffled as you spoke into his chest, and he did as you asked, his arms tightening around you as you let out a content sigh. 

Relaxing in the silence, you felt yourself begin to grow more tired with each second that passed, and your boyfriend seemed to relax as well, which was rare for him. You both were perfectly content, dozing off in each other’s embrace.

“... So should I get a mistletoe for the apartment?”

“Dear god, shut the fuck up and go to sleep.”

[bburningbridges]

The Little Things

Summary:  Often, it's the little things that matter the most. (In which Kaldur loves, is loved, and learns how to open up piece by piece.)

This is a collection of scenes that were cut from the final draft of "in this life, the days are full of joy." Don't have the read the source material first but it definitely helps!

Notes: kaldur’ahm is the backbone of young justice!! he deserved better and he deserved a boyfriend!! im too lazy to write sequels but take these half-baked scenes i had to cut from the OG story <3

+

Kaldur leaves Roy’s apartment feeling unmistakably relaxed in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time. By his estimate, he has about 10 minutes to himself before he reaches the zeta-tube and has to melt his goofy expression into something much less humiliating so he can face his team.

He tries to think sobering thoughts, but mostly just revisits what shirtless Roy looked like with his feet up on the coffee table. Somehow, his impossibly dopey grin gets even worse.

Star City is already getting cooler, the warmth of summer long forgotten. Kaldur has never minded the cooler weather; it reminds him of home.

That seems to be the exact kind of grave topic he needed to stop smiling. Thinking of Atlantis reminds him of what Roy had said about Aquaman, how he was acting “bitchy” and worrisome. He feels his shoulders sag. Disappointing Aquaman has never taken priority on his to-do list, and yet, he manages it with reliable frequency and ease.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, the part of himself that strives to be at least partially self-aware begs him to address the topic that he’s been covering up for months. Well, years really, but it’s only been an ever-present addition to his daily train of thought since the summer. Founding the team had been a great distractor, but now that he has a comfortable routine going it’s safe to say that he might be going ever so slightly insane. Just a little bit.

You can’t ignore this forever, the rational, tiny part of his brain persists.

And it’s true. One day, Kaldur is going to have to address that he gets honest-to-goodness butterflies in his stomach when he’s around Roy, and that doesn’t happen when he’s with anyone else. He’s going to have to dig deeper than Garth and Tula had, he’s going to have to identify these feelings and who has them for -- and that scares him so badly he starts walking faster.

He cuts his 10 minutes down to seven, and by the time he’s reached the zeta-point his mind is carefully blank, save for the lingering memory of Dr. Pepper on his lips.

+

Upon returning to the Cave, Kaldur receives no less than three wolf-whistles, three open stares, and feels his heart climb into his throat when Zatanna comments, “Didn’t know you liked UCLA, Kal.”

He holds up his hands, not really sure what he wants to do with them, and winds up making a ‘go away’ gesture at all of them, to their delight.

He’d been so caught up in his head he completely forgot to change. His uniform is folded neatly in the duffel hanging off his shoulder -- he meant to change before getting here, so he could avoid all of...exactly what he’s getting right now.

“I didn’t even know you owned sweatpants,” Artemis says, with an infuriatingly cheeky grin. She’s squeezed between Robin and Wally on one of the loveseats, and she doesn’t actually look that upset about it. “You never struck me as the relaxing type?”

Kaldur looks down. Has been that high strung for so long? It really does feel great to see his team -- these days, he misses them more than he’s comfortable admitting -- but he really does not need this level of ribbing tonight.

“They’re not mine,” his mouth is saying, stupidly.

“I wonder whose they could be!” Zatanna sounds too damn happy about all of this, and Kaldur fixes her with a level glare for a moment. She set up him. This was a trap from the start.

“Roy could’ve at least followed the guy walking out with half his closet,” Wally says. “We never see him anymore! What gives?”

“He’s busy,” Kaldur and Robin say simultaneously, with very different inflections. Kaldur fixes him with a look too.

Robin holds his hands up in mock surrender. “I didn’t mean anything dirty, Kal! Get your head out of the gutter.”

Not that it was before, but now that Robin’s gone there he most certainly cannot, and to his chagrin, feels his face start to warm. This is too much. His relaxing night has taken too many left turns, and at this rate he’s either going to implode or end up waxing poetry about Roy’s biceps.

Covering his face with one hand, Kaldur leans his head back and groans. “Why do I let you do this to me?”

All of his teammates look at him with matching smiles from hell, including M’gann and Conner -- who feign innocence so perfectly but Kaldur knows they’re giggling like a bunch of toddlers via mindlink. Wally and Robin have the worst ones.

They know too much, Kaldur thinks. The not so rational part of his brain suggests fleeing the scene.

“You looove us,” Robin sings, hand over his heart.

“I tolerate too much,” Kaldur grumbles back.

“You tolerate the perfect amount.” Artemis stands at the same time Zatanna does, and the two make their way to the kitchen. “But now that you’re here, we can actually get started with movie night. Me and Zatanna have popcorn duty.”

“And by that she means I have ‘keep Wally out of the kitchen’ duty,” Zatanna snorts.

Kaldur blinks in confusion, and she pauses as she passes by him. “What, you thought we were gonna start the movie without you?”

“I…” Kaldur doesn’t know what he thought.

“Just don’t look so surprised whenever people actually give a shit about you, okay? I’m not sure if it makes me wanna hug you or deck everyone else.”

It seems like Roy has been right about more than a few things tonight.

Zatanna’s expression softens. “We waited for you because we wanted to, Kal. It’s not team bonding without the whole team, you know?” And then she pulls him in a quick but energetic hug and follows Artemis into the kitchen.

Feeling properly ridiculous, Kaldur makes to drop his bag off in his room, but M’gann insists that he leave it where it is and deal with it later. The lightheartedness of the night really does make him feel like they have all the time in the world. A little untidiness never killed anybody; he drops the bag and sits next to her on the long couch.

“We really did want to wait for you,” M’gann says helpfully, letting her hand drop on his knee. “And Artemis and Robin taught us a bunch of games!”

Robin snorts; in the time that Artemis had been away, he and Wally had managed to tangle themselves up in a Batman-themed blanket. “And by that she means we sat around and gossiped for like half an hour under the guise of Truth or Dare.”

“And 20 Questions,” Conner says. “Apparently, all my questions were boring.”

“The point of 20 Qs isn’t to ask someone what their favorite color is nine times in a row, buddy,” Wally says. “It’s to get someone to squirm a little and spill something really embarrassing.”

“I like knowing your favorite colors,” Conner replies with a shrug.

Wally makes a very exaggerated huffing sound and throws up his hands. Snickering, Robin says, “Wally’s just mad ‘cuz he kept wussing out on dares.”

“I didn’t wuss out--”

“It was a bit wimpish,” Conner says, as M’gann offers, “I don’t blame you for it!”

Wally just groans again.

Now that he’s not the object of teasing, Kaldur finds it in him to smile. “It sounds like you had fun.”

“After four uninterrupted hours of homework, yeah,” Robin says, petulance betraying his age. After a moment he grins again, and even though his dark glasses cover his eyes, Kaldur can imagine the gleam of mischief behind them. “After the movie, we’ll get another round of T or D going with you, Kal. That way you don’t get to miss out on any fun.”

Kaldur’s stomach feels like it sinks all the way into his toes. It’s stupid to think that Robin is doing anything sinister or diabolical -- he can be nosy but he’s not mean -- but Kaldur can’t shake the feeling that he’s being backed into a corner. As if someone just threaten to shine a flashlight on him and to see all the dark little details he keeps hidden away.

His heart pounds. Suddenly all the jokes about him and Roy, the knowing winks, the teasing -- doesn’t feel so lighthearted.

Kaldur tenses up and shrinks into the couch, not trusting himself to say anything without giving himself away. He sees Conner frown out of the corner of his eye, but Artemis and Zatanna come back with bowls of popcorn and save him from the rest of that conversation.

Something tells him that Robin is staring at him, but Kaldur ignores it and thanks Zatanna for his bowl of popcorn instead. To his surprise, she follows up with a blanket that she spreads out over his knees, then drops into the couch beside him and curls into his side like a kitten would. After a few moments of adjustments, she’s worked herself under his arm, popcorn bowl on his lap.

Again, he’s not sure when Zatanna adopted him, but he’s not even the slightest bit upset about it.

Robin gets the movie going, and for the next two and half hours they all watch Steig Larsson’s book come to life.

(Conner falls asleep about a half hour in, and M’gann leans against his chest and sighs, her contentment practically radiating off of her, and Kaldur’s heart just...hurts, watching it. That could be him. He wants that. He’s almost certain he will never have it.)

Throughout the movie, he can’t help but feel like his entire body has released a partial sigh--this is something he’d been wanting for so long. Just spending time with the team who had become his closest friends when he wasn’t paying attention. There’s no talk of school or family or life outside the Cave; it’s just them in the dark watching a movie and making the occasional side-comment.

It’s...really, really nice.

Kaldur makes a face during one of the darker scenes. “You enjoyed this?” he asks Zatanna quietly.

“Look at the job we have, Kal. I think we’ve all pretty much seen some messed up stuff.” She pauses. “For example, I watched a magic deity possess my dad and claim his body for the rest of forever. So, like. Call me jaded.”

Her jaw tightens as she says it, and Kaldur winces, apology at the tip of his tongue. Ultimately, he decides it’s not the right time. Looking at Zatanna, he recognizes himself; the desire to put on a brave face and march through pain, no matter the personal cost. Acknowledging it was rarely an option. Her jokes were just deflections to distract from her real vulnerability.

“Okay, Jaded,” Kaldur faux-whispers. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Oh my god,” Zatanna snorts and gets a chorus of shushes from the others.

Kaldur opts to relax around her, and she holds onto him just a hair tighter afterwards.

+

“Not bad,” Robin says after, as they all blink and adjust to the lights coming back on. “I figured out the so-called plot twist about five minutes in, but still. Not bad.”

“Five whole minutes? You’re getting slow, Boy Wonder,” Wally chides.

“I believe I still enjoy the book more, but it was a very well-done adaptation,” Kaldur says, peering down at Zatanna. “Your movie tastes have certainly earned my respect.”

“Noice,” she says around a yawn. “Next time, you get to pick though.”

“I’d be honored,” he smiles.

“And bring Roy around too,” she mumbles into his chest. “None of us would mind, and I’d like to finally meet the legendary Red Grump.”

And just like that, Kaldur’s state of undistracted relaxation is gone. Suddenly paranoid that Zatanna can hear how fast his heartbeat has gotten, he sits up, jostling her out of her comfortable snuggle, faking thirst. He tries to calm down as he chugs from his water bottle, but Conner ruins his concentration but saying, “Are you okay?”

Kaldur nearly drops and spills it. “I -- What?” he asks. “I thought you were asleep?”

“I was just resting my eyes,” Conner frowns. “Why does your heart rate keep racing like that?”

At Kaldur’s bewildered expression, Conner shrugs. “I keep an ear out. It’s good background noise. But also in case anything goes wrong.”

Kaldur nearly snaps at him to stop it, but that wouldn't be right. He sighs instead. “I am fine, Conner. Thank you for your concern, but it isn’t necessary.”

“Okay, then color me curious,” Conner pushes back. “What’s going on with you?”

Kaldur realizes that the rest of the team has gone quiet, listening in. The feeling of being cornered creeps down his spine.

Artemis clears her throat, looking a little awkward. “Actually, Conner brings up a good point. We’re all a little...curious.”

He jerks to look at her, back ramrod straight. “What do you mean?”

“You haven’t been yourself lately,” she says, looking down. “I mean, sometimes you’re a million miles away even though you’re standing right in front of us. Your default face just looks...sad.”

“Batman may have mentioned that Aquaman was worried about you,” Robin adds, pointedly nonchalant. “He didn’t want to pry. But the concern is definitely spreading.”

“Plus, you’re our friend. I mean yeah, you lead us into increasingly ridiculous situations, but you’re also just Kaldur the merman who we all actually care about and seeing you look like you’re not quite sure where your next footstep is gonna land is just…” Zatanna trails off and shrugs. She’s looking at her hands. “You’ve done so much for all of us, Kal -- even me, and I just got here!”

“What she’s saying is, it’s time you let us do the carrying,” M’gann says gently. “Lean on us for a little bit, okay?”

Part of Kaldur is touched. His heart sort of melts and he feels foolish clenching onto his water bottle for dear life. But at the same time, his instincts to deflect have never been sharper. He doesn’t want them to pry, and he doesn’t want to open up, because how do you even begin to explain something you’ve never even let yourself think about?

The half of his heart that aches for companionship feels so full right now, he thinks he might burst.

And as always, he’s self-aware enough to know that he is not hiding this as well as he’d hoped.

He opens his mouth but chokes on the silence.

He has options here. No one is going to say something unless he does, or until the silence stretches into the territory of hostile, and he doesn’t want that. So he has the floor, and he can either come clean about one of the many things plaguing him, or dodge like he was born for it.

The thing is, it’s not like Kaldur likes, or even actively tries to keep everyone an arm’s length away. It’s just easier that way. Rather than bear the weight of social exile, or even risk being looked at differently, it’s easier to just...truck on. One can’t get hurt if he nevers offers others the opportunity to hurt him. There isn’t a portion of his brain that definitively believes his team would shun him if he came forward with the part of himself he hides away; it’s not like they’d run off to Batman and tell him Kaldur likes a boy, he’s unfit to lead, but that doesn’t mean there aren't icy tendrils of terror gripping his heart right now.

“This…” Kaldur starts, and everyone leans forward just a little bit. Waiting.

“This is a bit overwhelming,” he says honestly. “I am not sure that I...this is much more complicated than my words can explain.”

Robin is giving him that look again. Like he’s a puzzle--an especially difficult one. “Kaldur,” he says, without a hint of humor in his voice. “Truth or dare?”

This is the flashlight moment. His under a microscope moment. Kaldur can barely meet his eyes. He wants to talk to his friend, his heart hurts for it, for the connection, but at what cost?

But Robin is giving him an excuse to open his mouth, so he takes it.

“Truth?”

“Tell us,” says Robin, “whatever you want to. But just be honest.”

That’s a big request. Honestly, Kaldur wants to tell them what has been clawing at his heart for so long; that he is lonely, that this Cave is so empty and he days are so long without them. That his heart longs for someone that cannot and will not allow himself to have. That he loves in way he fears they will find ugly and disgusting -- even he himself fears it, and it makes no sense, and he’s both angry and jealous that Conner and M’gann don’t have to fear their love. They don’t question what their hearts feel, they don’t over analyze and dissect every moment and passing thought and try to shove it down as they burn with shame.

He wants to say, I like a boy, without his throat closing up or the world coming to a halt. Maybe he’s not ready to air all his dirty laundry, but he can at least start somewhere.

At the root of this all, Kaldur just really, really doesn’t want to feel so alone anymore.

“I am very grateful for all of you,” Kaldur’s mouth says before his brain can stop it. “So grateful, in fact, that I find myself missing you more often than not.”

Zatanna makes a tiny sound of understanding, but the others seem lost.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you get to live a life outside of the team. You get to go to school and meet your friends and sleep in your homes, and I am either here dreaming of Atlantis, or here waiting you to come back. I don’t...the issue is not that the Surface doesn’t feel like home. It’s that I feel at home when I’m with you, and that seems to be so...rare these days.”

The silence is deafening. Then Wally says, “Aw, jeez, Kal.”

Conner frowns in a way that is far more emotional than his default. “I’m not gonna lie, I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Me either...but it’s true, isn’t it? We have been hanging out outside of missions less…” M’gann admits reluctantly. “Things have just been so busy since summer ended, especially with school.”

“I’d drop high school in a heartbeat to spend more time here, I swear, but my parents would never buy it.”

Kaldur has to fight the urge to roll his eyes. “I would never ask that of you, Wally. School is important. You cannot just leave.”

“I already told you I’d do it if anyone would let me,” Zatanna says. She sounds like she’s only half-joking.

“Alter ego life is pretty jampacked,” Artemis says. “We’re sorry, Kal. And not just like, a little sorry -- we’re really sorry. You know if we could stay longer, we would.”

“I know,” he says. For some reason, that just makes everyone seem even more unhappy.

The silence lasts several more moments, and Kaldur wishes he hadn’t said anything at all. Robin has finally stopped examining him, but now his expression is even harder to read.

“Okay,” Robin says, steepling his fingers. “Switching the game to 20 questions. Question number one -- can you promise us that you’ll tell us these things more often? You’ve got one heck of a poker face; we can’t know what’s up unless you say something.”

Kaldur looks sheepish. He nods quietly. “I will do my best.”

“Question two, did you write all that down before you said it? Or was that off the top of your head? ‘Cuz that was like, Obama-level good, dude.”

Trust Wally to break the tension; Robin digs his elbow into his side while the others chuckle, and Kaldur manages a smile himself. “I do not answer stupid questions.”

“Oh c’mon.”

“Here’s a question,” Artemis says, “just...you don’t have to answer it, but I’m just putting it out there. Is there something else you’re not telling us?”

A worried silence falls over the room -- Kaldur inhales deeply and shakily and it takes a strong burst of courage to nod his head. It’s barely a movement, but it’s enough. It’s a start.

One day he will tell them about how he loves, but for right now, the most he can manage is this.

Artemis has an expression that says maybe, just maybe, she understands his struggle a little more than he’d thought she would. “Okay,” she says quietly, patting his knee. “Whenever you’re ready, we’re not gonna rush you.”

And, for what feels like the first time in long while, Kaldur exhales. He squeezes Artemis’ hand, and even though he can’t form the words to say his thanks out loud, he’s more than certain she understands.

“Number four,” says Conner solemnly. “What’s your favorite color?”

The rest of the game is full of laughter, and a level of familiarity Kaldur never noticed before. They joke easier, laugh more, and there’s no lingering tension in the air. It feels like home, and if he could, Kaldur would bottle this moment and live in it forever.

They talk until the early hours of the morning, and after it’s clear that no one’s getting up to go to bed, they dish out blankets and nod off one by one. Kaldur suspects he’s the last awake, until Zatanna nudges him gently with her elbow.

“One last question for you,” she says, barely louder than the quiet snores of their friends.

He simply hums his acceptance of his fate.

“What is really going on with you and Roy?” There’s no judgement in her voice but Kaldur still has to force himself to relax his shoulders. She sounds curious, not teasing, and maybe a little protective.

Maybe it’s because he’s so sleepy, but he chuckles for a moment, unbothered. “I wish I knew,” he says. “But between you and me? I hope he never asks for his shirt back.”

“I wish I was recording that,” Robin whispers, scaring the pants off of both of them. “You’re definitely gonna deny that in the morning.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Kaldur replies, stone-faced.

Zatanna begins laughing so hard she may very well start choking, and Robin only manages a hapless shrug before leaning onto Wally’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’m a patient guy. Artemis was on the money; take all the time you need, pal.”

He’s not sure if Robin is joking, but regardless, he feels an immense weight off his shoulders.

And he sleeps like a goddamn baby.

[danwritestuff]

Tagged by @sorbriquette​ and putting it in my so-called writing blog cuz i keep anything related to writing here

1. How did you begin writing? Uhhmm, I’ve always been a daydreamer and it was my Coping Mechanism(tm). So naturally, I’ve always wanted to write about weird shits I think about. Most of the time, though, I end up just imagining things and never get to writing it. I wasn’t really good at writing in my own language (Korean) and then I’ve gotten into writing in English (my second language) and found out I write BETTER in English lmao. 

2. What was your first writing project? Tell us a little about it. I started writing when I was around 13 or so. Never really got to write a full story and it was in Korean (I hate writing in Korean). I began RPing in tumblr since late 2012/early 2013 which is when I got into writing in English. I did wrote a short novel for a class in 2014 and I wrote a long fanfic in 2013 or something. Also wrote a screenplay once. 

Not going into details because I am ashamed. I try not to think about my past writings.

3. What is your preferred medium for writing first drafts? MS Words. I just like formatting and spelling everything correct too much.

4. What rituals or habits do you have around writing?  Um, I have a weird habit of writing a word ‘d’ and deleting it repeatedly when I’m not sure what to write. I make weird facial expressions too.

5. We all have a “type”– of character, plot, theme– what is yours?  Plot-wise, most of my stories involve a theme of ‘HUMANS ARE DUMB BUT THEY ARE ALSO AMAZING’ which has to do with my perpetual disdain for the humanity at the same time my self-contradicting love for humane shits. I love stories that involve... humans choosing something absolutely stupid that makes no sense, just because they are human. 

As for characters, I try to write everyone as different as possible. Not sure if I’m successful at that. Though my favorites are either: dumbass characters who are well-meaning and goodhearted but at the same time morally ambiguous, one of those idiots who are like a ray of sunshine but will also fuck you up if you hurt someone they love; or ‘average’ or ‘mediocre’ characters (like, skills or power-wise) surrounded by extraordinary people. 

6. Introduce us to one (or more!) of your OC’s.  I have a problem of writing too many characters but here goes the main characters in a series I’m trying (and failing) to write: 

- Rafael: My dumbass son (kind of jobless) who eloped with his fiance from his home, a secluded temple where he spend all of his life in. Proper and polite to a fault. Oblivious to human malice and sometimes dumb because this is the first time in his life in the civilization. Incredibly lucky, though he doesn’t notice it. Has a voice like an angel but doesn’t like to sing. He refuses to carry any type of weaponry but doesn’t mind beating the shit out of assholes because “God gave us fists so that we can punch bad people.”  - Emmy: Technically not my OC cuz my friend @kyaarin​ created her but she lets me write her. A young Mage/engineer who wants to be successful. Grew up on streets taking care of orphans like her so she is like a big sister to everyone. Friendly and gets along with everyone except assholes to whom she can be a bit vicious. Energetic and kind of hotheaded. Smart and logical most of the time but when she is pissed she just goes off and does something stupid without thinking of the consequences.  - Terra: Technically not my OC (by @kyaarin​) 2. An assassin/spy who is also like a private detective. Was from a rich family but she left her family to be free. Got into troubles on her own so she got into being a hit woman. She is either your best friend or your worst enemy. Quiet and observant. Doesn’t like to act before knowing EVERYTHING about what she is getting herself into. Doesn’t care how long it takes to get what she wants, or what price she would pay for that. Is out to revenge her friend ultimately.  - Lance: A Knight (basically a magehunter in this world) who hates magic. He kills mages because he believes that would make the world a better place. So definitely a shithead which is inexcusable. He KNOWS that he is a mass murderer and there will be CONSEQUENCES but at the same time he believes it’s necessary to do what he does. Snarky asshole. Dogged workaholic and reckless, mostly because Knights in this world are sorta OP. Also financially unstable af because he gets sued a lot. 

7. What’s your favorite genre to read?  Ummm, I like fantasy and sci-fi but I also just like regular fictions. I have a really specific taste in books and it’s hard to find those. 

8. Your favorite genre to write? Anything fantasy or sci-fi. I really like world building.

9. How do you conduct your authorial research? Google is your friend. I might have spent way too much time on that because I am obsessive. 

10. What does your editing (gasp) process look like? Mm... I rewrite 1834931041 times while my first draft (which is a horrible habit and I write really slow thanks to that). I reread to check and then I get it to friends and get feedbacks by chapters.

11. What are your favorite tropes? Mm.. Idk I really like characters being asked to hand in their weapons several times because they have so many hidden weapons. Also love non-human characters (like robots or AI or something else) beginning to understand or becoming humans?

12. Show off your writing space. I don’t have one ‘cause my life is a mess.

13. What is the most useful piece of writing advice you’ve ever used? “Sit your ass down and just write.”

I mean, it all comes down to writing constantly and regularly I believe, which I struggle with (because I work better with deadlines). But I think that is as good as it gets with writing advice. Like? Everyone writes differently and there ain’t one formula for that? Step off of your high horse and throw your ‘don’t use this kind of expression/phrase/structure’ over a cliff.

14. What is the least useful piece of writing advice you’ve ever ignored? Any advice that has to do with fancy “alternative” vocabulary.

Like... it’s not about which words you use to decorate your sentence. It’s about the content. I find the best sentences convey strong emotions or meanings and that doesn’t always have to do with which words are used. Write as you feel and if what you feel is “that asshole of a man said some bullshits” then go with it.

15. Your writing beverage/snack of choice? Coffee? Though I feel like I work better when my needs are deprived. 

16. How do you compile your ideas? Writing blogs, some memos. I have a huge Google document that has world building information in it. I think it’s about 40 pages long and I’m not even done.

17. What are your controversial opinions ™ on the craft of writing? I’m not sure if I have a controversial opinion on writing... Maybe “you can’t separate real worlds or yourself from the fictions”? Wherever and whenever your story takes place in, it is written by you, so it is bound to reflect YOUR world view. You are the storyteller, so you can’t just say “It’s just a story”. It’s not. You are writing what you want to write about and if it’s problematic, then you gotta do some reality check.

Tagging: @eva-writes @darklingsea @rjwrites @proserpinewrites @wiscowrites @ashlaaaywrites @viirgowrites and anyone who wants to do this 

[theboykingofhell]

9, 15, 16, 18, 26, 31, 32, 34, 41, 42, 45, 46, 47, 49, 51 for TSG, 54 :*

ricky found fucking dead in miami after looking at these PROMPTS,

9. Least favorite trope to write.

what a weirdly phrased question because if i hate it, i ain’t gonna write it... UHH. i really don’t like bringing dead characters back to life???? i don’t like writing scenes for shock horror... well, that’s a lie, i DO like to horrify the reader through my writing, but i don’t want to cheapen the emotional ~journey~ they go through by being like ‘JUST KIDDING! everything actually DOES work out in the end!!’

i have a story where narratively its kind of leading to a place where i have to make a ‘dead’ character come back (chaos actually, since i use her in red’s actual story) and it’s making me so mad like wtf thought we had a deal

15. Where does your inspiration come from?

SONGS... and just insp in general but i get a lot through music and nnnh... there’s just so many good aesthetics and quotes on my dash tbh i’m like constantly and consistently inspired, it’s great

16. Where do you take your motivation from?

imma be honest, the thing that motivates me most sometimes is either reading a rly shitty novel or seeing a shitty show and just getting livid and writing out of spite because THAT DRIVEL WAS PUBLISHED????? MY SHIT IS SO MUCH BETTER WTF... or i think to myself ‘what the fuck, what if i die tomorrow????? with my damn novel unfinished?!?!! HELL NO’... pretty much anything that reminds me that my stuff is Great but no one knows how great it is because it’s not DONE and OUT THERE yet makes me get off my ass

18. What’s your revision or rewriting process like?

depends! for books it mostly just consists of rereading after a long period of ignoring my story and just tweaking lines that seem out of place or that ruin the flow i’m imagining. if i’m rewriting, then i have two word documents out (which the program scrivener makes SO easy god BLESS that program) and just... rewrite it word for word while STARING at the old version. that always makes the prose come out slightly different, it smooths out stuff or lets me cut away or add things i really like and, most importantly, it adds length, which i tend to struggle with a lot because i like just being TO THE POINT

with playwriting though it’s mostly about the format.. i write all plays like i write everything online... in lowercase with little regard to actual grammar. so i gotta actually pretend i give a damn about the english language and format it all properly and add stage directions cuz in a first draft for plays, i always just focus on dialogue and that’s it

26. Standalone or series, and why?

standalones are far more fun and way more satisfying and, quite honestly, require way less fluff. i keep FORGETTING how much fluff is needed in a goddamn novel. MULTIPLE BOOKS OF FLUFF no FUCKING THANKS

31. Hardest character to write.

in the rp: tyler (because he dissociates in a way that literally cuts me off from? any parts of his character? which is like the ESSENCE of his character but it’s VERY unenjoyable to write tbh) and nicki (because i put too much pressure on myself to make her seem a certain way instead of letting it happen naturally)... tbh canon characters and/or characters that are based on people are generally just rly hard sometimes cuz there’s SO MUCH IMAGINED PRESSURE TO MAKE THEM GOOD!!!

in original shit: honestly i’m really tempted to say aaron and that’s just because he’s so... unlikeable to me???? but also i think it’s just because i’ve really only written one scene for him (i always write in order unless a scene is just KICKING MY ASS to write, like this particular scene) and... he seems like a Lot... of annoying bullshit to have to write out lmfao that bitch

32. Easiest character to write.

red because i’ve been writing him for like 7-9 years now, i would hope he’d be easy by now... honestly, really explosive and dramatic characters too like bert or nora come SUPER easy for me, they’re so fun to write (especially dialogue-wise) because they’re very emotional and i can get PARAGRAPHS based on one reaction. characters who try and hide shit from everyone, INCLUDING ME, are so annoying,

34. Handwritten notes or typed notes?

typed because they’re legible,,,,, but then again, my handwritten notes make more sense because they’re kind of fully crafted ideas like ‘***make nisha and aaron meet at 42nd street for transformation chap???’ while a typed note will be like... ‘42nd street+aaron’... what did that mean, ricky-at-5am... why did you do this to us

41. How many stories do you work on at one time?

two... kind of as a minimum, sort of as a maximum... like there’s usually the MAIN story and then there’s something i’m kind of doodling in the side, something that’s just sort of cooking in the backburner that i’m not too serious into the process of it, but it’s goin... i’ve never tried to do 3 stories at a time but i feel like my attention would be too divided and it wouldn’t work

42. How do you figure out your characters looks, personality, etc.

UHH........................................... i’m very fond of faceclaims cuz idk i just kind of... feel how they look... i don’t ever really envision a full person though, i get like traits... i’ll be like... oh she has long black hair and she’s not white and her eyebrows look like this... and then i’ll see a pic of pooja mor and be like THAT’S HER THAT’S EXACTLY IT. idk what it is about eyebrows and why that’s literally always the deciding factor of how a character looks, but there it is

personality just kind of... man, characters just poop out of me, i don’t decide any of this shit wtf jhsfjg

45. Worst piece of feedback you’ve ever gotten.

once someone told me to stop making the boys kiss in the first chapter of my story so i made the boys fuck instead

46. What would your story _______ look like as a tv show or movie?

scrolls WAY up... sees you didn’t add a story as a prompt WELL i’m still riding the tsg train here so

a tsg movie better look like the 90′s, goddamnit.. not like... found footage really, but i want something in the quality to be a little fuzzy and sort of tinted that one kind of grayish brown color i always associate with the 90′s for some reason... like, i can’t stop thinking about all these amber lighting and how dull everything looks, and how higher in quality things look the further and further it goes, like, it’s something i would concentrate a lot on visual cues with because i focus so much of the storytelling of tsg on nisha’s narration. sometimes you don’t know how many days have passed because nisha doesn’t know how many days have passed, if she dissociates, i’d want that shown on camera, if she keeps repeating the same number over and over again, i’d want to watch one little piece of a scene getting repeated again and again. it’d be VERY disorienting as a movie tbh but it’d be fun...

47. Do you start with characters or plot when working on a new story?

characters!!!! plot is such a backburner thing for me, if you have rly great characters, you already have a great plot right there. the plot is just set so i can see how characters react to things, man... 

49. What do you find the hardest to write in a story, the beginning, the middle or the end?

THE MIDDLE, FUCK THE MIDDLE.... endings are literally the easiest thing for me, beginnings similarly so, it’s just getting from that BEAUTIFUL starting scene to that GORGEOUS ending that fucking kills my poor undeserving asshole

51. Describe the aesthetic of your story _______ in 5 sentences or words.

low-res pictures of old cemetaries... that’s five words right there, i’m sorry but the END IS IN SIGHT, I’M ALMOST FREE AND CANT BE BOTHERED

54. Any writing advice you want to share?

can’t stress how useful having an insp blog is... creating a story through the unconscious collection of pictures and quotes that just feel relavant is just SO useful not just when it comes to really constructing a character an an atmosphere to your story, but making a fucking plot????? my tsg blog is like my most perfect insp blog because i got the idea to seperate it by chapters, and i’ve found that i can literally just... go into the chapter tags... and make connections and build on plotlines that i had NO IDEA ABOUT when i made or filled those tags, IT’S REALLY FUN and it keeps me inspired to write