#how do these media people not melt under the weight of his gaze. anyway

[j-ustkeepgliding]

postgame vs. colombus blue jackets - dec 14 '23

[moemammon]

could i please request the obey me ! boyfies with an s/o who is like & chubby ? they get insecure about it (like being tall + chubby) and really are body-insecure to the point it’s like super frustrating too bc they want to express themselves through their outfits but absolutely hate clothes shopping and will break down bc of the amount of people, the clothing sizes, and being upset after trying things on... thank you so much!!

The Demon Bros react to a Body-Insecure GN!MC

(Beauty comes in all shapes and sizes. This is something we hear all the time to the point that it almost feels dry and cliche. But! Just know that there's NOTHING wrong with the way you look, despite all the media we see centered around the world's idea of beauty. Beauty is subjective, and not eternal. Just be you. The best 'you' you can be!)

Lucifer

Do you REALLY think an age old demon would see anything wrong with what you look like? He's constantly surrounded by beauty, anyway, in the form of demons and angels alike

Besides, Luci isn't shallow enough to base his affections for you purely on how you look, so you don't even have to question that.

But he does recognize that you don't see yourself in the same like as he does, and he's so, so patient with you. After all, he can't have the love of his life doubting their self worth. The Avatar of Pride won't be having that.

Lucifer takes the time to tell you, everyday, what you mean to him. In the quiet moments when you two are alone, he'll guide your gaze to meet his own, and starts going down the list of the things that make you beautiful.

"To think you'd be self conscious about something like this.... Do you think I'd settle for anything less than perfection? Let me remind you again why I love every inch of you, MC."

Mammon

Taking up modeling gigs means Mammon's seen just about every body type under the sun, so do you seriously think he's that worried about the way you look?

He's a little slow to read the room, so it takes him a while to realize that you're self conscious. But when he tries taking you clothes shopping one day, and sees you're on the verge of tears after trying on two outfits, he gets the clue.

NOW he's being extra as hell in showing you how much he likes you. You start waking up to texts telling you how beautiful you are (with the obligatory threat that you'd better not show his brothers), he keeps putting his arm around you in public, and when he can muster up the courage, he'll even tell you in person how good you look in the outfit you're wearing.

He even starts sending you links to websites he visits to buy clothes. There's some good ones that have a wide range of customization options, and a pretty diverse size chart! It's not so bad if it's online, right?

"Anyone who's worthy of being around THE Great Mammon is worth a million grimm, understand? I don't really get all the fuss about yer body, but... I think ya look fine the way ya are. So smile a little more, alright?"

Levi

Levi can relate when it comes to body insecurities. He's a layabout, and the only exercise he gets is when he's forced to get it. He doesn't think he's much of a looker compared to his brothers, either.

So when you tell him how you feel about the way you look, he gathers up every ounce of otaku™️ strength to tell you that there's nothing wrong with your height, or weight.

He DEFINITELY values personality over looks, and even then it's not like he finds you unattractive. Seriously, he doesn't get your worries at all. Are you sure you can see properly..? They say staring at screens too long can mess up your eyesight, so maybe he should stop forcing you to watch so much tv with him?

And guess what? Levi can sew. Go ahead and bring him the clothes you wanna wear, and he'll get em fixed up for you! Or if you want something custom made, he's got you! Leave it to the master weeb and his endless cosplay knowledge! ✨

"L-Like in anime! It's boring to see the same body types all the time and it's nice when they change it up, s-so....Uh.... Anyway, I like everything about you, okay?! Your body is fine the way it is!"

Satan

According to his nerd calculations, you have no reason to be insecure.

Jokes aside, Satan listens to your concerns and handles them gently. No two people look alike and the world is full of different body types, so who's to decide what is and isn't beautiful?

As he sees it, you're healthy and happy, and isn't that all that matters? He can't take away your anxieties about shopping, but he CAN help you find things you would like to try out. He's pretty sure he has a book that teaches a spell for altering clothes in an instant....

Satan tends to think on the logical side of things, so you can trust that he isn't just saying nice things to spare your feelings. He means every word when he tells you how perfect you are in his eyes.

"Of the billions of people on earth, do you really think anyone can say what 'beauty' is? MC, you're perfect the way you are. Should I write a book about all the wonderful things I love about you?"

Asmo

If there's anyone who can appreciate all body types, it's Asmo. What can you expect from the Avatar of Lust, who's seen all there is to see? If anything, there's more for him to love~!

And his affection for your body isn't even entirely sexual. It's all about aesthetics! He loves every dip and curve of yours, from head to toe!

He knows you find it difficult to find clothes that suit you, so he's started having your clothes tailored. You're a little confused when he randomly starts taking your measurements one day-

Later, he returns to you with all those outfits you kept staring at a little too long, all tailored to your body type. Asmo has CONNECTIONS, baby. He's gonna make sure you find everything you could possibly want. He knows how crucial it is to express yourself through what you wear!

"Didn't I tell you you'd look great in that? I'm never wrong when it comes to fashion! And MC darling, you look as stunning as always! Ooh, I just love the way this accentuates your body~!"

Beel

Beel only has food on the brain, so he's the least likely to care for appearances. He loves you for your heart, because that's what matters the most to him. And when you're happy, he's happy!

He loves the look on your face when you smile at yourself in the mirror, and he wants to see that more often. So when you express your insecurities about your body, Beel has a plan of action in mind.

He hoists you up and settles you onto his bed, first grabbing your thighs, your hips, your torso, your arms, and ends all the touching by cupping your cheeks. His hands are warm with affection, and you could already feel yourself melting into his touch.

He looks you in the eye with that deadpan expression of his, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, and a potato chip to your lips.

"No matter how you look or what you wear, you're still the same MC that I love. Every part of you is just fine, so why do you worry so much about it? I'll remind you over and over if I have to."

Belphie

Um??? That means he has more to hold?? when you guys cuddle?? You're warm, you smell nice, and he loves you. Literally where is the downside to any of that???

Belphie takes your worries with a grain of salt, but he knows how insecure you are so he doesn't brush them off. He DOES however tell you that you're worrying yourself to death.

Also, do you really think a man that sleeps all the time is going to have washboard abs? Belphie definitely has a little chub here and there under those baggy ass clothes of his.

Speaking of clothes, he thinks you should just wear whatever makes you comfortable. You're wearing those clothes for yourself, aren't you? So just wear what you like.

"There you go again, talking badly about yourself. Geez.... I guess I'll just have to hold you in my arms until you realize how silly you're being. Come here."

[jawritter]

Mirror Mirror

Summary: It can be hard to be married to someone you see as virtually the most beautiful person in the world, when you don’t see yourself that way, and all eyes seem to be watching.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Plus Sized!Reader

Warnings: Floooffff, tooth rooting floooffff!! Lol, Flangst, probably the flangstiest flangst I’ve ever flangsted. Language, self hate, insecure reader. Jensen's is a complete fucking sweetheart. That’s about it I think.

Ward Count: 2249

Beta’d by: @deanwanddamons! Thanks so much love!

A/N: Okay guys! This fic was one I wrote before the final and now I’m glad I wrote this baby before hand, because while I’m still working on the comfort fic you all requested, It’s taking me a little to get my emotions under control! So, that being said, enjoy this one guys! The Jensen x Reader comfort fic which will be titled Pieces Of Me, will be here as soon as I can guys! Feedback is gold! Please do not copy my work!

***MASTERLIST***     ***BECOME A PATREON***

You stood in front of the most dreaded object in your house with big, ugly tears rolling down your reddened cheeks. 

The mirror. 

There was a stack of dresses in expensive bags behind you, and a pile of matching shoes scattered across your bedroom floor. You had been at this for more than three hours, and nothing you put on looked right to you. 

Your eyes rake over the image of your disgruntled self in the mirror as you run your hands down your not so flat stomach; all the way down to your thighs that were a lot thicker than what was considered “pretty” by most standards. 

Every dress you put on today seemed to do nothing but accentuate your worst features, and highlight the things that you were the most self conscious  about, and today was the last day you had to pick an outfit for the awards ceremony that your husband had to attend in California. You were flying out first thing in the morning, and you still had nothing to wear. The thought  utterly terrifies you. 

You turn away from your reflection in disgust and sit down heavily on the foot of your bed, your head hanging down as the tears flowed heavier from your eyes onto the black satin material of the dress that went down to your knees. 

You hated awards ceremonies, and this was why. You hated all public appearances where you had to be seen by the fans with Jensen, but awards ceremonies were like next level humiliation for you. 

You didn’t have the body of the actresses and supermodels that walked the red carpet alongside your husband who was WAY the hell out of league. You were a little overweight, and you always had been. No matter how many miles you got up early to run in the morning, or expensive gym memberships you wasted hard earned money on, you were still on the heavier side. 

Diet pills either did nothing, or made you sick. You weren’t heavy enough for surgery, and even if you were you would be terrified to take it that far. Diets themselves did NOTHING, and you had done some pretty extreme diets since you met and started dating Jensen. Once you had  married him, you continued to try and lose weight, even though Jensen insisted you were beautiful. 

You never told him, but you had seen the comments on social media concerning Jensen’s “fatass of a wife,” and how “he could do so much better than that.” The one that stuck with you the most was, “I bet on the rare occasion he does have sex with her it’s when the lights off.”

People were cruel, and when they were able to hide behind the safety of computers they were even more cruel than usual. You knew that if you didn’t look just right on the red carpet tomorrow with Jensen, if you didn’t look like the woman he deserved to have on his arm, and not just yourself, they would tear  you both apart. 

You were so lost in your self loathing that you didn’t hear the front door close, or Jensen’s heavy footfalls making their way closer to your still open bedroom door. When he first caught sight of you, and all the clothing bags and shoes that littered the room, his heart fell to his feet. He wished you could see you the way he saw you, he wished you could see just how beautiful you were. He’d been trying to help you see it for years, but when big events like this come up they seem to drag out all those old insecurities that broke his heart almost as bad as they broke yours.

Jensen made his way over to you as you quickly tried to wipe the tears from your face to hide the fact that you were crying and knelt down in front of you, taking your hand in his own while cupping the side of your face with his free hand, making you look up into his piercing green eyes that looked sadder than you expected them too.

“What’s wrong baby,” he asked you, catching a stray tear with the pad of his thumb and wiping it away before it had a chance to join the other’s on our lap. 

You just shook your head and tried to look away as you attempted to swallow the giant lump of nothing that formed in your throat. Jensen was having none of it, and moved to sit on the bed next to you, shoving the bags out of his way so that there was a place next to you. 

“Come on pretty girl, talk to me please. What’s got you so upset?”

You knew he wasn’t going to let it go, so you tried to take a deep breath to steady your nerves. You didn’t want to melt into a weeping mess in front of him, not over something like this, but everything just seemed so amplified lately. All the stress caused your emotions to get out of control because you really had no idea why you were stressed, you just were, and everything just seemed overwhelming lately. 

“I’m fat Jay,” you tell him, hating how thick your voice sounds from all the crying you’d been doing for hours now. “I’m too fat to fit into anything, and look good enough to go to this awards thing with you. People are going to make fun of you for being married to a fucking whale. Maybe I should just stay here in Austin.” A dark chuckle formed in your throat at the thought you never intended to say aloud, but did anyway. “Maybe you should just divorce me and find someone who’s more your speed.”

“Wait a minute, woah, where is this coming from?” Jensen asked, turning to face you on the bed, and cupping your face in his large hands. “Baby girl, you are NOT fat! Why would you say something like that?” 

You jerk away from his hold, emotions getting the better of you as you stood to your feet in front of him, gesturing to your body that was still squeezed into the black cocktail dress that you hated so much right now. “Are you blind? Look at me Jensen! I’m fat! I don’t need you to lie to me because you feel that you have to because we’re married! I’m not a moron. I look in the mirror everyday! I’m FAT!” 

Your tone was harsh as it all tumbled out of you, but Jensen just gave you a sad look, not interrupting, just letting you get it all out of your system. Once you were done, and just flopped back down on the bed in defeat, Jensen grabbed your hand, and pulled you over to the mirror, stopping you in front of it, and guiding your gaze to the reflection that was staring at you as he stood behind you, brushing your hair away from your face as his eyes raked down your body. 

“Can I tell you what I see?” He asked, but you just shook your head, and tried to turn away, but he stopped you. 

“Jay, please, I know what I look like....”

“I never said let me tell you what you see, I want to tell you what I see.” Jensen said, turning you back to the mirror as you let out a deep breath in defeat, choosing silence in fear of hurting his feelings when he’d done nothing wrong. 

“I see a strong, beautiful young woman, who is way more than I ever deserved. I see a woman who knows just what to do to drive me crazy in the best ways. I see someone that’s stood by me when most people would have walked away from me. I see a woman who I can’t go to sleep at night unless she’s tucked into my arms. I see my reason for waking up in the morning. I see the woman I love with everything in me. I see the woman I want to have a family, grow old with, and be buried next to someday.”

He reached around and brushed the tears aways before leaving a trail of soft, open mouth kisses down the exposed skin of your neck and shoulder. His big hands slide down to lay over your stomach that you hated so much before his eyes met yours in the mirror, his gaze soft and warm laced with love that you sometimes forgot to look for when you needed to feel it the most. 

“I don’t love you because of the way you look, but baby let me tell you nobody drives me as crazy as you do. Do you seriously think some skinny little bitch could handle me? Baby girl, I’d split her open,” he all but growled, nipping at the shell of your ear to drive his point home, sending a warm shiver down your back, letting you momentarily forget what you were even upset about as heat pooled through your body at the slightest touch.

“Those women in the industry, they’re not real women. You have the body of a real woman. Safe, warm, mine.” Turning you abruptly in his arms his lips found yours in a heated kiss that left you breathless and your world spinning when he finally pulled away from you. “I don’t want you to ever say that you're fat again, because you're not a baby girl. To me you're perfect, and that’s all that matters. I don’t give a shit about what people think. If they attack my girl, then they will live to regret it. You're gonna be the most beautiful woman on the red carpet tomorrow night, and when we get back to that hotel room, I’m gonna show you just how crazy that damn dress is driving me.”

Jensen's gaze darkened as his eyes roamed your body, and he licked his lips as if already plotting just how he was going to ruin you when you got to California. 

“Why wait until tomorrow night, when we got all night to pack?” you asked him, running your fingers through his hair that had been getting longer ever since Supernatural had ended, enjoying the almost purr that fell from his lips as he nuzzled deeper into your touch before his gaze found yours again, pulling you tighter into his hold. 

“Because, I don’t want you to get mad okay? But there’s something I really want you to do for me right now,” he said, his eyes searching yours waiting on your response, and when you said nothing, just stood there on pins and needles, he brushed your lips with the pad of his thumb and placed his lips to your forehead before he finally told you what was on his mind. 

“I want you to  take a pregnancy test for me,” he said in a soft voice, so soft that you almost weren’t sure you heard him correctly at first, but pulling back to meet his gentle gaze you knew you had. 

“A pregnancy test?” you asked him in disbelief, still unsure whether you should be offended or not. 

“Baby, hear me out,” he said, sensing your change in demeanor. “You’ve been really emotional for a few weeks now. This isn’t the first time I caught you crying this week, and not just over something like this. You’re also three days late for your period, and we have been trying. I think you might be a pregnant sweetheart. It would explain why you're feeling this way.”

You swallowed hard and nodded as you thought back over the emotional wreck you had been all month long, and the longer you thought about it, the more you thought he could be right. 

Giving him a quick peck on the lips, you slip out of his hold, and make your way to the bathroom to take the test. Your brain and body felt numb as your mind rolled over possible symptoms. The queasy feeling you passed off as bad Chinese food. The headaches. The extreme fatigue. The late period. 

You didn’t even get the cap on before two pink lines appeared on the screen in front of you, and tears filled your eyes as you felt Jensen’s strong arms wrap around your middle, pulling you into a kiss that knocked the wind slap out of you. In that moment, it didn’t matter what the mirror said, or the assholes online said. At that moment, your body didn’t feel like an utter failure. All you could think about was the little miracle growing inside of you as you both held onto each other for a moment, and when Jensen turned you to the bathroom mirror, both of you with wet eyes and happy expressions staring back at you, Jensen brought his lips down to the top of your head. 

“See, I told you. Now baby, do you see what I see, because I see my beautiful wife, and mother of my child. What I saw from the moment I met you.”

You nod and turn to press your lips to his again, feeling relaxed for the first time in weeks, now that it all made sense as to why you were all over the place all week. Your body was doing just what it was designed to do, and for the first time, you looked in the mirror, and didn’t hate what you saw.

Forever Tags: @deanwanddamons​ @rvgrsbrns​ @chevyharvelle​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @i-love-superhero​ @akshi8278​ @lyss-dw79​ @magssteenkamp​ @lemondropirwin​ @squirrelnotsam​ @hobby27​ @spnbaby-67​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​ @defenderrosetyler​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​ @thecreatiivecorner​  @aflamboyanceofgays @vicmc624​ @busy-bee-angel-misska​ @justanotherwinchester​ @brilovesdeanwinchester​ @idksupernatural​ @lyarr24​ @amandamdiehl​ @love-jackles-37-blog​ @miraclesoflove​ @Waywardsistershy @emoryhemsworth​ @dean-winchesters-gardian-angel​ @softsebastian​ @tatted-trina6​ @anaelsbrunette​ @hayleeharling​   @flamencodiva​ @coldmuffinbanditshoe​ @bxbyizzy @dirty-pan-goblin​ @itmejado​ @supernatural3002​ @teresa-67​ @thoughts-and-funnies​ @hearteyes-j2​ @miss-nerd95​ @writers-whirlwind​

Mirror Mirror Tags: @tuataracda123 @woodworthti666​

[soobrat]

*･༓☾ bloodshot // johnny ☽༓･*

chapter i // masterlist

*pairing* you x johnny + jungwoo

*chapter rating* mature

*warnings* gore (I'll put a marker up to where it starts and ends for the squeamish), explicit sexual content, mentions of slurs and sexism

*word count* 2.4k

*disclaimer(s)* I obviously don't think johnny or any other members would act this way. Please don't take anything I write seriously as it is just for fun. I in no way view idols differently and inappropriately in real life because of my smuts or any of their contents!

((TW: you “injure yourself” in this chapter but it’s not driven by any mental health circumstances))

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

Well, everyone thinks you're crazy now. You really didn't think kicking a toothpick under your toenail would catch this many headlines. Or maybe it was the reason you did it that has everyone's panties in a twist.

"Popular Streamer _____ Injures Herself After Altercation with Fellow Streamer jonssuh"

You had to prove your point. You had no desire to be cordial with that son of a bitch.

"Come on, ___. You love me, right?" Johnny taps on his cheek with his index finger. The gesture was seemingly in slow motion as your blood boiled. You wanted to knock that stupid grin off his face. You balled your fists tightly as the men- no, boys laughed at his joke. Or lack thereof.

"You're so overdramatic." Lucas rolls his eyes at your stubbornness. You felt triumphant as you felt the boys getting upset. Finally their smug acts were over. It was suffocating. You glared at the two massive men as they leaned on the kitchen island, glaring back at you.

"You actually hate Johnny?" You turn to see Mark on the sofa, pushing himself forward a little so he can see beyond the other men on the sofa. His face read of concern. Good. He should be concerned.

"That's what I've been trying to fucking tell everyone. My viewers, you guys, the commentary youtubers, your viewers, everyone! I'm not joking, I was never joking, I could sleep easy knowing I'd never see Johnny again." You turn your gaze back at Johnny who had that amused smirk back on his face.

"You're so full of shit, you know that?"

"And why is that?" You maneuver around the island to stand firmly in front of the human skyscraper. You felt your adrenaline pumping as the air grew more tense.

"Okay guys this is getting stupid. Stop before you do something dumb." Taeyong piped up, you could hear the annoyance in his voice. You stayed put, awaiting Johnny's response. He tilts his head upward and crosses his arms, feigning deep thought.

"Well I don't know, you always seem to be around me. And hm... I don't know... the fact that I did nothing to you." The venom in Johnny's voice made you shift in place with glee. It was very difficult to not smile. You were successfully getting under his skin.

Finally a man among your mutual streamer friends was the one someone made squirm for someone else's amusement. No more sexism and just flat out being a jerk for shock value. Or to just solely make you feel like shit while everyone else laughed. Now you were laughing while Johnny gritted his teeth.

"You see, you did do something and you know you did. Look it's just my personal opinion that you're a piece of dog shit." You finally let a smile stretch across your features as you let one of his signature lines rip.

"Ah, so that's what this is about?" Johnny scoffed, shifting his weight.

"Those are just jokes. You always take them way too seriously."

You feel the power dynamic shifting again. No, you weren't going to let him use this idiotic defense to gain his position back.

"If those are jokes then you're a shitty comedian." You walk closer to him, looking straight into his eyes as you over-enunciate each letter in your insult.

"Everyone else seems to like them." Johnny shrugs, keeping his composure. The dynamic was shifting once more. You snort at his reply.

"Who's "everyone"? The little boys in this room?" You hear the boys grumble in protest around you.

"Or your 12 year old fans who think saying the N word is a punchline. Very impressive audience, Kevin Hart." You chuckle. Johnny stayed quiet for a while nodding as he shifted back and forth. You could feel how no one was on your side, but you muscled forward, trying to ignore it.

"So you're telling me you hate me, because of some stupid jokes-"

You laugh loudly.

"Of course you take two steps back when you're backed into a corner."

"We're not stupid, ____. I get it, I'm a popular streamer and beef with me would get you some decent numbers. But keep it on stream, babe." He pats your shoulder and attempts to move past you.

"I would rather kick a toothpick under my toenail than be forced to coexist with you. I promise it's not a publicity stunt." You cross your arms tightly.

"Oh yeah?" Johnny's footsteps thunder past you as he reaches for a package of toothpicks. He brings them to the island, dumping them onto the countertop. Countless toothpicks clatter onto the granite, some spilling over onto the linoleum tiles. The guys groan and protest in the background, most notably, Taeyong.

"See- This is what the fuck I'm talking about, man. You guys are so fucking ridiculous."

(gore marker)

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

It was the anger that Taeyong didn't understand why you loathed this man. It was the way Johnny's nostrils flared at you as he gestured to the toothpicks that egged you on. Your movements are theatrical as you take two fingers to lift a single toothpick from the countertop.

"No fucking way?!" Lucas cackled in disbelief. Everyone watched in awe as you saunter to the nearest wall, placing the toothpick under your right big toenail.

"____ cut it out! What the fuck?" Taeyong shot up from the couch, attempting to stop you but it was too late. The mixture of searing pain and screeches of disbelief and disgust overwhelmed your senses. The room spun as your eyesight faded in and out. You stumbled backwards but Taeyong caught you before you could fall. Your toe was burning hot while blood ran down from the wound in various directions. You didn't want to look at it. Taeyong scoops you up and quickly whisks you away to the bathroom.

The maddening discourse was just blurred background noise as Taeyong sat you on the toilet. Your vision was going blurry, hearing going in and out as Taeyong reprimanded you. You couldn't decipher a word he was saying.

"Could you shut up and take it out please." Hot tears poured down your cheeks. Taeyong paused, shutting the bathroom door. The decrease in volume brought you back down to earth. Unfortunately, this meant the pain was clear as well. You inhale sharply before exhaling shakily. Your foot shook violently as you finally saw the viscera. You whimpered worriedly, in disbelief at yourself. Your hands shook as well as you grabbed for something, anything. One hand landed on Taeyong's arm. The other tugged a towel off a bar, the poorly assembled bar coming down as well with a loud clang.

You began to sob, not knowing how to deal with the excruciating pain. You choked, looking away as Taeyong finally removed the toothpick. Your lips tremble as you attempt to stifle your sobs. You squeeze Taeyong's arm but your body never stops shaking.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

"I'm sorry... I didn't know you were serious."

"You still laughed." Your voice quivered. The words came out louder than you anticipated. Johnny probably heard that. Great.

You hiss loudly as Taeyong applies peroxide.

"You need to go to the hospital, this is worse than I thought."

"Yeah, whatever." You stay turned away from him and the wound. You hear him sigh.

You gave permission to Lucas to tell the story on his stream. You wanted people to know that you will not just sit pretty and giggle while a greasy man talks down to you. You do not associate with Johnny Suh. And now the world finally understood this fact.

Except, your plan backfired. People think you're insane. For good reason. The more days go by, the more idiotic you feel. Of course if backfired. Also, "jonssuh" was bigger than you. Of course people would side with him no matter what.

"People hate me now." You see the opportunity to steal Jisoo's knight, so quickly you do so.

"Checkmate." Jisoo utters as you realize your king is fucked from all directions.

"Fuck."

"You always take the bait so fast. Also, who cares if a bunch of racist white boys hate you. They're all probably 13 anyways." Jisoo starts to put the pieces away but you stop her.

"One more round. Also, that's what I said. But let's be real, they're not all 13. Full grown adults are calling me over-sensitive. Some of them are female as well. That shit hurts." You set up your side with a pout.

"Even so, their opinions still don't matter. They have horrible senses of humor. If "go make me a sandwich" makes them laugh, their opinion is no longer valid." You make you first move.

"I guess."

Even so, the comments and tweets still stuck in your brain. Some of the boys defend you over social media which made you feel a lot better. At the same time, however, it made you feel worse. Your mind flashes back to that night, the things the guys screamed were finally clear.

Mark was just repeating "oh my god" over and over while gagging. Lucas obnoxiously screamed "YOOO!". Typical. While Johnny... well he pressed both hands to either side of his head, repeating,

"You were serious?"

Yes you dipshit. How could he be so dense?

How are men this influential over you?

-

You wished Jungwoo streamed. He's so funny and sweet. Not to mention he would stick up for you with no hesitation when you were with the other streamers.

"I would've just slapped him as soon as he said you take his "jokes" too seriously."

"I know." You melted into Jungwoo as he traced shapes into your arm. Your cheek squished against his bare chest as his other hand smoothed over your hair. Your legs tangled together under the covers. Jungwoo kicks them away, muttering something about being hot. The motion causes his legs to brush firmly against your panty clad core. You whimper, digging your nails into the flesh of his bicep.

"Are you needy, princess?"

You nod sheepishly, humping lightly against his leg. He climbs on top of you, spreading your legs apart with his own. He grinds his bulge against your mound, sending shots of electricity up your legs. You look up into his dark eyes. His dark hair messy and half wet. His mouth hung open as he looked at your half naked figure with want.

You twitch, trying desperately to get as much friction as possible. His motions deepen as he grinds against you. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. His thrusts get shorter, brushing perfectly against your hardened clit. Your lips brush against his, both breathing heavily. Your moans become audible as your legs quiver slightly.

He pulls away before freeing his newly erect penis. He jerks it a few times before pushing your panties aside and entering your sopping hole. Strangled noises escape your throat as he bottoms out. You use your legs to pull him even closer. You whimper loudly at how deep his tip burrowed into you.

His hips are poetic as they sway back and forth. His cock was warm and hard as a rock as it moved in and out of you. Your noses bump against each other as he bites your bottom lip. His moans whine and tempt as they twist into your ears. He bites the lobe of your left ear as his love noises increase in volume. You dig your heels into his ass as you let out shallow open-mouthed breaths.

Jungwoo slides his hands underneath your ass to give it a firm squeeze. While doing so he pushes himself even deeper than you imagined he could go. You curse and writhe, raking his back with your fingernails. You bite his shoulder, tears threatening to spill as your stomach tightens. Your wetness spread all over both of your upper thighs. His cock was nearly lost in a sea of your juices as it plummeted deep inside you.

Getting closer, you start bucking upwards. You chased your high feverishly, encouraged by the passion behind your hatred for Johnny Suh. You thought of him. You thought of him as you snapped your hips towards Jungwoo's. You grunt hungrily, thighs quaking as you blindly chased your high.

"I'm so fucking close-" You breathe out as you grind your hips up to meet his. He snaps his hips against yours, movements more erratic and moans more determined. Your pelvis feels hot, stomach tightly wound, and legs going increasingly numb as his cock barreling into you sends you over the edge. Your moans border on a scream as you tug at Jungwoo's hair.

You trail your nails down his neck and back as he continues to thrust sloppily. His hips snap violently a few more times as he ribbons sperm into you. Your chests heave against each other, skin searing hot to the touch.

"Is all that pent up frustration gone now?" He nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck as he laughs. You just nod breathlessly. Your stomach flutters as he peppers soft kisses all over your neck and shoulder.

"I could tell that guy really pissed you off."

"Well it was more than just Johnny."

You were both silent for a moment.

“Taeyong too?” He lifts his head to look at you cautiously. You just nod wordlessly.

“It’s also the constant losing fight. I think it may be better to just separate myself from them completely.”

Jungwoo slides off of you, snuggling into your side.

“It must be really difficult.”

You pout slightly, tears pricking at your eyes. You were being such a baby.

“Yeah.”

“Especially with Taeyong not siding with you before the toothpick intervened. I honestly thought you and Taeyong would be an item.”

“Me too.” You chuckled, it seemed so stupid now.

“But he’s in a relationship now, with someone he knows I’ve hated for years now.” Saying it out loud, you couldn’t chuckle anymore.

“This is just a shitty situation, huh?” You force a smile, looking over at Jungwoo. He was far from smiling, however. It almost looked like he was going to cry for you.

“I’m so sorry you have to go through this, ___.” Jungwoo snuggled even closer to you, nuzzling his head into your shoulder again.

“Yeah, me too.” You replied numbly. You didn't know if you regretted Lucas telling his stream or... the entire thing.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　끝　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

[mhafiction]

Out & About (Pt. 3)

Read Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 4

Pairing: Bakugo x Reader

Fluff/Friends to Lovers (?), swearing

Synopsis: Reader is very close friends with the Bakusquad, except for the aloof and mysterious Bakugo. He still intrigues them however, and a night out with the group might actually be the the push they need to really get the ball rolling on transitioning their awkward comradery into something a little- more.

Note: It’s done haha. I didn’t spellcheck it that well... forgive me -K.

“There’s a shopping mall not far from here!” Mina squealed, her ink-black eyes glittering with excitement.

“It’s that new one that opened last week, right?” Kirishima mused. “We should totally check it out.

You stifled a yawn, then checked your phone. It was still considerably early, but for some reason your eyelids were heavy with exhaustion. It was almost as if an entire era had passed in the time you left the dorm. But maybe that wasn’t so bad.

Bakugo kept his gaze fixed squarely ahead. Unshakable, even with your charming presence. It didn’t matter to you. What was pleasing was the fact that he was walking side by side next to you, matching your stride with each step. Perhaps it was the lingering warmth of his jacket combined with the romanticism of snowfall, but you couldn’t help but wear a sleepy little smile.

Once arriving at the shopping center, you plopped down on a bench, waving for your friends to carry on without you. “I need to rest my feet for now, I’ll catch up.” The heat from the interior met your freezing cheeks, and you basked in the comfort for a moment. Bakugo hesitated, concern flashing in his eyes, before deciding to join you on the bench. “Huh? Bakubro, you’re not coming?” Kirishima asked, a playful grin dancing on his face. Bakugo met his boyish demeanor with a scowl. “No.”

“Ahaha, I see.” Sero nodded with a quiet understanding, glancing at your drooping form, then raising an eyebrow at Bakugo. The hotheaded blonde immediately flushed. “Tch.” He tossed back his head with an air of false nonchalance. “Go away.” Kaminari clicked his tongue. “Oh Bakugo, quit playing the tough card. We all know deep down you’re a big ole softie. I mean, you should just see the way you act around Y/N-” Bakugo had to be restrained by Kirishima to keep him from lunging at Denki. “GET LOST ASSHOLE!” Sparks flew from his hands. “Whoa, touched a nerve there.”

Bakugo was lucky that his friends abided with this demand, even if it was with some teasing. He was even luckier that you were so close to passing out, and therefore completely checked out of the conversation. He scrolled on his phone, watching you out of the corner of his eye. Sometimes you could be a real pain. What if some creep had cozied up to you while you were in this inebriated condition? His hands gripped his phone tighter thinking about that. Didn’t you care about yourself? He watched your head bob up and down, fighting to stay awake. Hmph. You’re lucky you’re so cute.

The shopping mall hummed with activity, not strange for a Friday evening. Girls flitted about from store to store, children cried and threw tantrums as they were led along by their parents, and some were waiting languidly on their benches just as Bakugo was. Why was he waiting, anyway? You probably wouldn’t want to move for a while, and deep down he knew you could handle yourself.

Then, while his thoughts were focused on his social media feed, Bakugo felt a weight on his right shoulder. Slightly frozen from shock, he stiffly turns his head to greet your sleeping face smushed squarely against his upper arm. He felt his cheeks grow hot, and he silently cursed you for being so damn pretty, even when you were unconscious. He drank in your features, trying to capture this moment in his mind. Wait a minute.

Slowly, very, very slowly, he shifts his phone to his left hand, gently angling it’s camera to capture your entire face. He prays you don’t wake up at the wrong time. Almost got it. Just adjust the light here and- Click. He let’s out a deep breath, a self-congratulating smirk on his face. Bakugo brushes a hair from your face, almost unconscious of the action, then winces at the memory in the restaurant. That had been so awkward. He had been overcome with a desire to help you, to be close to you, to touch you. What he had thought was just a passing crush had become something so intense that it scared him. He didn’t even know it was possible to like someone that much. And now, in this mediocre shopping mall, you were slumped over his shoulder. Your soft snores music to his ears and dulling his senses till all there was was you, and all that mattered was you. You stirred, your calm little face convulsing into a yawn. Bakugo held back a barking laugh at how your brows knit together, how you stretched like a shaking kitten, and how absolutely imperfect you seemed at the moment. His heart clenched as he realized that he was way too far gone. Bakugo loves you. He loved everything you did and how you did it, how you laughed and how you cried and how you woke up from a nap. It made him feel soft and warm on the inside. Gross. Pondering this for a while, he wondered how a person as good as you could even like him. I mean, you did, right? That’s why you tried to talk to him or train with him. Truthfully, he knew that he was a prickly type- he hadn’t met you halfway in the attempts to grow closer. But being around you was almost nerve-wrecking. He wanted to be better for you. After tonight, well, things probably wouldn’t be the same. In a good way. That’s a step at least. Bakugo gazed down at the picture he had taken of you. Your face made him unconsciously happy, and butterflies erupted in his stomach. What the fuck was this?? Was he dying??

He weighed his options, going back and forth in his head... fuck it. He set the photo to his lock screen chuckling with a quiet giddiness, then chastised himself for being so fanciful and indulgent. Now that was just sad. But he didn’t change it back.

You rubbed your eyes, blinking in the fluorescent white light. For a second, you forgot where you were. Your eyelids fluttered shut, your mind weary, hoping to return to your nap. It was so soft here for some reason...then, your nose was greeted with the familiar smell of burnt sugar.

“Bakugo?” You muttered, still in a daze. He jumped in suprise, hitting your chin, and the fact that you had been laying on him all this time snapped you awake. Oh fuck.

You wipe a bit of drool from your mouth, trying to compose yourself. Oh my god he probably thinks I’m disgusting and lazy and-

You make a quick effort to smooth out your hair, hoping to death that you hadn’t done anything embarrassing while you were unconscious. Awkwardly shrinking yourself so that you’d make as little physical contact with Bakugo as possible, you give him a quick glance. “S-Sorry.” It was the return of his soft, caring attention that almost caught you of guard. “Tch. Don’t worry about it,” he mumbled, the gentleness in his voice barely hidden with a raspy facade of annoyance. Your eyes catch on his phone for one second as a notification pops up. Was that... you? You quickly pull your gaze away from it, banishing the thought from your head. No way, no how. That was ridiculous. Why would he even put me as his lock screen?

You shift in your seat a bit, still tired but a little antsy. You couldn’t just sit here in awkward silence with him. Pushing yourself through the haze of exhaustion, you slowly stand up, offering a nod to Bakugo. “Let’s go find the others.”

It seemed that all your friends were refusing to answer your phone calls. “What the fuck?” You murmured. “I mean, Denki’s with them.”

“Bastards probably forgot a cord,” Bakugo sighed, not surprised by their ignorance in the least. “Better just search for them.”

You two walk across the mall, scanning the storefronts, shoulders less than an inch apart. Bakugo is aware of how close you are, and bristles every time your hand brushes up against his own. You aren’t. Your limbs are heavy with exhaustion, your eyes fight to stay open, and the warmth of Bakugo beside you...

You latch onto his arm, forgetting your previous aversions to touching him. Bakugo stiffens up, but says nothing. He watches you yawn, then cozy into the crook of his elbow, burying your nose in the fabric of his shirt. “Y’know Bakugo, you really are amazing,” you whisper, your light little voice slurring from sleepiness. Bakugo’s breath hitches in the back of his throat. Did you really just say that?

“For the record, I don’t care what everyone else says. You’re really nice.” You giggle, reaching for a spike of his hair, then patting his head softly. “And pretty.” That’s it for Bakugo, he panics, feeling his face go completely red. He’s dead silent, shocked that you were being so bold. You pout. “I think I really like you Bakugo.”

“You do?” He whispers back, his gravelly voice infused with disbelief.

“Sure. I think you’re gonna be the No. 1 Hero one day.” You press your fingers together, growing comically bashful. “Can I kiss you?”

Bakugo reels back at the request, eyes wide as he runs those words you just uttered through his head. Just exactly how tired were you?

You bury your face in your hands. “Oh god, I’m sorry Katsuki-“ you yelp. “Uh-uhm, Bakugo-“

“No, it’s okay. I-“ he gulps, swallowing his stress. “I like Katsuki.”

“...Ok, Katsuki.” He felt like melting, hearing you say his name.

Bakugo rubs the back of his neck apprehensively, deciding to proceed with caution. “How about we talk about this when you’re less...loopy?” You give him a single nod, still rested firmly on his arm. He didn’t mind.

“But you know, Katsuki. I really mean it,” you say under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear. “But you’re right. I don’t want to burden you with-“

Bakugo stopped dead in his tracks. Burden him? How could you even suggest something like that? He grimaced, cursing himself for his stupid prickly attitude and his inability to talk to people. Especially people as good as you.

“Is that really how you feel, Y/N?”

“Hm?”

He grabs your shoulders, making sure that you’re looking him square in the eye. A blush creeps onto your face.

“You’re not burdening me, you got it, idiot?”

Why’d he have to say it like that? He inhales, pushing himself to tell you more. To let you know that he liked you, too. More than you’d ever know.

“Listen Y/N, I think that you’re...you’re pretty great. That is to say, you’re not bad. You’re better than most of the extras I know. I mean-“

He gives a shout of aggravation, furious at how impossible it is to just tell his crush he likes them.

“ARGH! What I mean is! ...You remember how I promised I’d tell you when you’re being stupid? Well, you’re being stupid right now, if you think that you’re a goddamn- a goddamn burden.”

He chokes on his words, anger and sorrow welling up in his throat.

“Katsuki.” You bring a hand to his face, watching those eyes of his show you everything you needed to know. Bakugo had opened his heart to you. Had this sweetness been in there all along? Had his love really been there forever?

You frowned, watching his pained expression. What could you possibly say to him...

“Let me see your phone.”

His brows furrow together, and he straightens up. But he complies, tossing his phone to you while looking the other way.

You hummed, tapping on his screen. It illuminates, and as you suspected, it was you. Sleeping. On Bakugo. You feel your face grow hot, then hand him back the phone.

“Well, I guess you’re ahead of the curve.”

Bakugo snorts. “Bold words from the one who fell asleep on me and then asked for a kiss.”

You scratch your cheek, taking a deep breath.

“Well, you didn’t really give me an answer.”

Bakugo’s eyes widen, then offer you a mischievous twinkle. He smirks, a little cocky. “I guess I didn’t.”

“So.”

“...”

Bakugo sighs, then matches his gaze with yours. You can tell he’s nervous. Inching closer and closer, you watch his face grow redder and redder as he leans in. Once his nose is basically touching yours, he whispers softly “Listen. I’ve never done this before, so. Don’t make fun of me.” Then he closed the distance.

Caramel overwhelmed your senses. His lips met yours with confidence yet caution, planted squarely with little mercy. He was so sure of himself, and at the same time so gentle. The kiss was slow, one you both eased into as he grabbed your hip to pull you closer. Your hands played in his hair, and he shuddered, pulling away just for a moment to look at your face. You two stood there, intertwined, in the blinking lights of a shopping mall with the whole world moving past you. You smile, pushing back, then offering your hand to Bakugo. At least now, you were awake.

“Let’s go find the others?” He intertwined his calloused palm with yours. “Yeah.”

Truly, this would be a night to remember.

[bnhascribbles]

Partner

Bakugo x Reader

Angst, Humor, Dialogue Prompts (22, 47, 62)

I took artistic liberties lol.  EDIT: Also may have forgotten one of the quotes...

Words: 4.4K

Warnings: Swearing, Violence, Mentions of death

Hair, once light, is dark, matted with blood and sweat. Bakugo’s costume is in similar condition, still caked in a thick layer of grime from his last rescue. But he can’t stop, not yet. His practiced gaze scans over the rest of the debris, searching. Shattered windows, overturned cars, crumbling buildings–it was all the same stuff he’d expected to see in the aftermath of such a large attack. His heart races, nonetheless. Shit, shit, shit. Curses pour from his lips like prayers, uttered between bouts of panting. He focuses on getting his breathing under control before he moves on, planting a steadying palm against the wall of the alleyway. When he drags it down along the red brick, his gauntlet leaves a smokey trail in its wake. Memories flood in, even as he does his best to shove them back.

The scorch marks marring the dorm wall are obvious, to say the least. Faded grey rings branch out along the white plaster, all stemming from a single, intense patch of soot. One that, suspiciously enough, resembles a handprint,

“You’ve really done it this time, matchstick.” You lean in close, using your fingernail to scratch at the stain. Some of it flakes off, but there’s an obvious film of residue left in the blast zone. “Aizawa is gonna straight-up murder you when he finds out.”

To his credit, Bakugo at least has the sense to look a little nervous, one hand shoved deep into his pocket, the other tucked firmly beneath his armpit. Trying to avoid having another “misfire.”

“You think I don’t fucking know that?” He grumbles. “Just tell me if you can fix it.”

You scratch at your chin, seeming all pensive. But it was bullshit. Really, it was an easy fix–he already knew that, considering the fact that he’d come straight to you after his squabble with Midoriya escalated into a full-fledged explosion. But he also knew that you were going to try and draw this out; You had this thing about “leaving a lesson,” and this seemed like the perfect opportunity to make sure he learned a thing or two about dialing down his bloodlust.

“It’s gonna cost you.”

Bakugo’s mouth pulls off to one side of his face. “How much?”

“A month of cleaning my room–sweeping, dusting, polishing, and mopping. Plus an apology to Midoriya.”

He wants to argue, to barter. But he doesn’t–he doesn’t have the time or the patience to spend trying to convince anyone else to help him. So Bakugo just stands there, chewing on his lip and shifting his weight between his legs.

“Fine.” He sighs, bouncing on his heels. “Just fix it before anyone else sees.”

“What’s the magic word?” You ask, grinning wide and having way too much fun with the whole situation.

“Fix the damn wall before I–” A loud click from the double doors leading into the common area makes Bakugo flinch, twisting wildly, like some prey animal that’s about to be snatched up. When the knob twists, his eyes dart back to you, looking positively wild. You’re still grinning, thrumming your fingers against the stain. Waiting.

Your fingers tap, tap, tap against the plaster.  Repetitive and rhythmic.  And irritating–like Iida’s pencil sharpener whirring every evening at the same time.  Or shitty-hair hitting his fucking punching bag at 3 am when the blonde trying to sleep.

As much as he wants to burn your hand to a crisp–to stop that grating sound–now wasn’t the time to go ape-shit.  Bakugo couldn’t risk the consequences of pissing off Aizawa (again).

“Please!” He swallows his pride and hisses the word, even though it feels like it’s burning on his tongue.

Without another moment of hesitation, you tap the wall. It’s like hitting an imaginary rewind button–Bakugo can see the progression of the damage being played out in reverse. Rings sink back into the palm print until even that begins to fade. Within a second, all signs of his outburst have been erased. Dusting off your hands, you turn just in time to wave at Kirishima as he pushes open the common room door, strolling towards you. His lips twist upward when he sees a very relieved-looking Bakugo clutching at his chest.

“Was he being an idiot again?”

Bakugo barks out an irritated curse at his friend and stomps off into the hallway, never once peering back over his shoulder. Even so, your boisterous laughter bounces off the walls, reaching his ears as he turns the corner into the stairwell.

“Yeah, he was. But don’t worry about it; I’ve got him covered.”

The throbbing in his chest doesn’t subside, even after a minute of that “deep breathing” crap, so Bakugo decides to move on anyway. He scales the fire escape up to the roof, anxious to get a better idea of his surroundings. He already knew the area well–he spent more time patrolling the streets than he spent in his own damn home–but knowing where the corner store was wouldn’t help him find what he was looking for. People never stuck around in one place for too long during disasters like this. Not unless they were–

No, Bakugo shakes off the thought as he climbs the final step. He yanks his phone out of his pocket and an alert banner drifts across his screen, screaming at him with bold, obnoxious text.

...mass civilian casualties reported. Additionally, over two dozen individuals are unaccounted for in the Dagobah district alone. Counted among the missing is pro-hero, Retrograde, who was last spotted leading rescue efforts in...

Bakugo locks the screen before he has to read any more, running a shaky hand over the bottom half of his face. Reporters didn’t know shit anyway.

You step into the agency training room, following close behind Bakugo. Once the door shuts, you twist the lock to the right. Your partner scowls, folding his arms across his chest in a frustrated gesture.

“What the hell is this about?” He growls, looking down his nose at you.

You inhale deeply, staring into blazing red eyes, unfazed. There’s not an ounce of your usual, goofy self left to be found. He’s grateful.

“This is gonna hurt.”

He blinks, gritting his teeth. “What–”

Before Bakugo can even get a word in, your fist is slamming into his jaw. He stumbles backward, thrown off balance by the force of the impact. Once he regains his footing, it’s less than a second before he’s pouncing towards you. His teeth are bared, his lips pulled back in a tight, animalistic snarl. You hop left, avoiding a full-on hit by a centimeter. Still, Bakugo’s reflexes get the better of you; He throws out an arm at the last second and catches your ankle as he passes, dragging you down with him. You hit the floor hard, landing on your back. Groaning, you fling out your other leg, shoving it into his ribs (too conveniently, in the same side he’d bruised just last week). Bakugo winces, releasing his hold, and after a complicated moment, you’ve got him pinned–held down by his chest and wrists.

“You know why you’ll never be number one?” You pant, pressing more of your weight into him when he struggles.

He growls, feral. “Get the fuck off of me.”

You don’t.

“It’s not ‘cause you’re a terrible hero. Hell, you’re brilliant–everyone agrees on that much.” You lean in close, speaking slowly. “It’s because your image is shit, Katsuki. And it’s shit because every time you do something good, you manage to screw it up by losing your cool and doing something stupid.”

You continue, paying no heed to Bakugo’s eyes as they narrow, murderous. “Silverfish is a hero. He worked his ass off helping us clear out that warehouse, but the second he makes one comment about your way of doing things, you go apeshit. You get in his face and scream and throw a hissy fit right in from of the reporters.” Shaking your head, you stand. “Like they need any other reason to rip into you.”

It takes every ounce of restraint in him, but Bakugo doesn’t lunge at you the instant you give him the opportunity (even though he really wants to). He settles for watching you rub your knuckles as you stare down at him. He hopes they hurt–he hopes you’d shattered every damn bone in them when you’d punched him. People needed to stop telling him how to do his job–how to act, how to be “nice” and pretend that he was some happy-go-lucky do-gooder. He wasn’t, and he didn’t want to be.

Bakugo sits up, scowling. “Reporters don’t know shit. I don’t care what any of those dumbasses say about me.”

You laugh, but there’s no humor in the sound. “Yeah? Then you’re a bigger fucking idiot than I thought.” When Bakugo jolts up, you move in close to him. Too close. “The press can make or break you. Give ‘em an opening and they’ll take it–they won’t hesitate to make you into their seven o’clock special. ‘Breaking news: Hero Ground Zero threatens violence against critics.’ Does that sound like the sort of headline that helps you move up the rankings?”

“It’s a fucking lie.”

“It doesn’t matter if it’s a lie or not! It’s what they’ll say!” You’re shouting now. Red seeps up to your face, coloring your cheeks and ears. “And what they say is what the public will believe.”

You stop and breathe, shallow and ragged, through your nose. Tracing small circles over your temples, you shut your eyes and hum to yourself. Your shoulders slow, their quick rise and fall, melting into something more controlled. Bakugo half thinks you’ve finally snapped–that the pressure of dealing with hero work and him and the media has finally made you lose it. He’s about to shove past you when you finally open your eyes. The intensity is still there, but your breathing has calmed down substantially.

“That’s why,” you begin, holding up your hands in a placating gesture, “If you’ve got a problem with someone, you find me. If I’m not around, you breathe and wait it out.” The words are soft. But they’re also firm. Rational.

Bakugo wonders if you’re still angry. He is. Then again, he can’t think of the last time that he wasn’t pissed off at something. He stares at you, grinding his teeth. He’s surprised to find that the urge to pay you back for the cheap shot you landed on him has faded. Just a little, though.  

You click your fingers against your wrist guard, thinking.  After what feels like a century of the nothing but tapping, you finally speak.

“We’re partners, Katsuki. If we don’t watch each other’s backs, then nobody will.” You hold out your hand. “Think we can agree on that much?”

He glances down at your outstretched fingers, then up at your face. If he’d really wanted to, he could’ve knocked you flat on your ass.

But there would be opportunities for that later.

Barely even realizing it, he takes your hand in his own.

Bakugo meets up with one of his sidekicks on what used to be a commercial street–the sort of place that vendors sold overpriced knick-knacks to tourists that didn’t know any better. Now, it looked like a fucking mess, with stalls overturned in the panic to evacuate and banners burned in the blaze that everyone had been running away from. Bakugo lifts the remains of a larger display, peeking under it. To anyone that didn’t know him, it might’ve looked like he was searching for civilians that’d been left behind.

His sidekick knows better. Bakugo doesn’t even have to ask the question burning in his mind before the young woman shakes her head.

“No sign of ‘em. We ripped apart the whole street and found nothing.”

Bakugo clenches his jaw, chokes down the acidic taste in his throat. No news was good news; He tries to convince himself that those words you liked to repeat over and over again have some truth to them. It’s hard to do that when he knows the actual numbers–when he has facts to refute the hopeful little figure of speech. The truth was that with every moment he waited around, the chances of finding you alive decreased. Drastically.

“Clear out these buildings the second you’re sure they’re not going to collapse.” Bakugo commands. “There could be survivors hiding out in there. And don’t move on until you check everywhere.”

He fiddles with his gauntlet, concentrating on keeping his breathing steady–like you’d showed him. In and out. In and out. No need to lose his cool. Yet.

“Rip out the ceiling tiles if you have to. People get creative when they’re desperate.”

“Where the fuck were you?!” Bakugo nearly loses it when he sees you hobbling towards the ambulances, coated in dust and nursing more than a few nasty cuts.

“Sipping piña coladas down at the beach.” You shout with a shit-eating grin that doesn’t seem to fit the situation. “Where do you think I was? I was hiding, Katsuki. That’s what you do when you’re hurt and there’s a baddie trying to murder you.”

Seeing you standing there, hearing the playful tone of your voice–it isn’t enough to convince him. Bakugo pushes past the paramedics, the news crews, his sidekicks. He doesn’t stop until he’s standing right in front of you, grabbing your shoulders and looking over you from head to toe.

Real. Ironically enough, the word doesn’t seem... well, real.

“How?” Bakugo demands as he runs his hands down your arms.

Feeling for broken bones, he convinces himself, even though that wasn’t something he usually did. Usually, he let paramedics handle checking for injuries. But right here, right now, he feels this compulsive need to check you out for himself–to make sure you’re as alive as you seem.

“Everyone was sure you were dead. How the hell did you get out of that tower?”

“Did you know,” you muse, still smiling, “That those old buildings have this space right above the–” You hiss, obviously in pain when Bakugo pokes at a spot between your side and your stomach.

“I climbed into the ceiling and waited around until things got quiet. Then I just scurried out the service entrance.” You admit shakily. “I didn’t think I’d be of much help like this, so I decided to play it safe.”

Bakugo stops his fussing for long enough to peer up and meet your eyes. You looked coherent enough. Tired, but sane–well, as sane as you could be. He remains quiet for a moment, then sighs.

“Good. That’s probably the smartest thing you could’ve done.”

You quirk up an eyebrow. “Wow, ‘smart.’ Don’t make a habit of complimenting me, now, or I’ll start to think I’m actually having a positive influence on you.”

Bakugo groans. “I didn’t say it was a smart decision, I said it was the smart-est given the situation.” Despite his protests, he kneels down to examine your ankles, spending extra time checking the side you’d avoided putting weight on. Not that he’d been paying attention.

“Same, difference. The point is, you were a decent human for about five seconds. That’s progress.”

He doesn’t respond, pretending to be too be too engrossed in his search for injuries. What was he supposed to say? “Thank you?” Was he supposed to hurl an insult back at you?

What if he didn’t feel like doing that right now?

“Does this hurt?” Bakugo asks, pressing on a spot that looks a little questionable.

“No.” You answer without hesitation. But your expression looks odd, strained.

“Are you lying?” He makes no effort to hide the irritation in his voice. He was trying to help, dammit. “Why are you making that face?”

“Not lying. It’s just,” your voice is thin–from what, he can’t decide, “You’re being so careful, and I couldn’t help but imagine ‘what if he was a nurse instead of a hero?’ Then I imagined you in one of those old, stereotypical nurse uniforms and I–” Whatever self-control you had disappears and you erupt into a fit of laughter. “I’m sorry, I just–”

You flinch, face contorted in pain and hand clutching at your side.

“Ow, ow, ow. Okay, it hurts to laugh.”

Bakugo stands, rolling his eyes. “That’s because you probably cracked a rib, weirdo.”

“And he’s back to being a jerk.” You groan, but a hint of a smirk lingers on your lips. “Then again, ‘weirdo’ sounds much nicer than ‘dumbass.’ So maybe you’re learning a thing or two, after all.”

Gingerly, without saying anything, he loops your arm over his shoulder. Bakugo could’ve used the opportunity to make some snarky remark about you being “dead weight” or “useless,” but he doesn’t.

“I’m glad you’re not dead.” Bakugo mutters under his breath. He doesn’t mean to say it–it just sort of slips out as the two of you trudge along your way.

You don’t reply; You don’t give any sort of indication that this was anything out of the ordinary. Still, Bakugo wonders–if he glanced over at you, would you roll your eyes? Would you think he was being insincere? Or would you look surprised? Happy, even?

“Even though you’re a dumbass.” He tacks it on before he can overthink things too much.

Bakugo kicks over a trashcan, pissed and exhausted and anxious. Nothing even vaguely human-shaped rolls out–just candy wrappers and soda cans. A deep sound bubbles in his throat, growing until it evolves into a full-scale shout. Your name.

Nobody shouts back. Bakugo hears ambulance sirens echoing in the distance, the low groan and clunk of machinery as crews come in to clear out heavy debris, maybe even the creaking of some buildings that had yet to crumble beneath their own weight. Whenever he stops focusing on them for just a moment, they become less industrial sounding–more human. His hyper-focused mind makes it into something it’s not. He hears sobbing, distant and choked, but so familiar it almost kills him to ignore. Throwing his hands over his ears, he shuts his eyes tight and tries to block the sounds out–tries focus and force down the memories they bring.

“Please, don’t cry.” Bakugo pleads even though he knows it won’t do any good.

He’s terrible at comforting people–that wasn’t a surprise–but even that isn’t the reason why your sobs continue to rip through the eerie silence of the alleyway.

Every hero had to go through this at some point–had to grapple with the fact that they couldn’t save everyone.

His had come early on, during his third-year internship nonetheless. An old man, trapped beneath rubble from a roof cave-in. It hadn’t even been a villain attack that did him in, just a sorry excuse for a supermarket and an ill-timed tremor. Bakugo remembers the rush to carry him out to the ambulances, the head-pounding, gut-wrenching feeling of being fucking useless as the paramedics looked over the man. Then, the sinking doubt that crept in, long after the techs shook their heads and made their pronouncements. It was a silent beast that told him he hadn’t been fast enough. Smart enough. Good enough.

Now, it was your turn to deal with the same thing. Months–almost a year–into your career, and you still weren’t any more prepared for it than he’d been. Hearing about casualties was one thing. Looking people in the face, promising them you’d save them, then watching as the light faded from their eyes was something entirely different–something you couldn’t ever be ready for. He knew that as well as anyone else.

“It’s my fault.” You whimper into his shoulder. “My god, Katsuki. It’s all my fault.”

Bakugo tightens his grip on you. His dry cheek presses against your wet one, your hair ticking the edge of his nose as he grumbles into your ear.

“No it isn’t. You did what you could.”

You inhale once, then twice, then a third time, your entire body trembling. “And it wasn’t–”.

“Don’t finish that sentence.” Bakugo warns, leaving no room for argument.

And you don’t. You stand there, clinging to him, sniffling into his costume. When the brunt of it passes, neither of you move for a long time. He keeps his arms around your middle while you cling desperately to his neck.

Bakugo isn’t sure why he pulls his head back, but when he does, you do the same, staring up at him with puffy eyes. He breathes, long and drawn-out. His mind races.

Then, his lips are pressed to your forehead. He doesn’t know why the hell he does it–why he leans forward and kisses your skin like that. You were just standing there, looking upset and it felt like the right thing to do.

That’s what he tells himself.

But it was wrong. Bakugo knows that the moment he takes another look at your face. Your eyes have gone wide. Still wet with unshed tears, they watch him without blinking. Your lips trace imaginary words–probably questions. What was he doing? Why was he being so sweet? Where was the matchstick with the temper that tried your patience nearly every day?

He tries to look away, but your fingers tap at his neck, three times, demanding that he turn his attention back to you.  You’re staring, insistent.  Demanding answers.

This wasn’t right–now wasn’t the time. Not when you were a mess like this. The thought isn’t enough to keep him from hunching over again, stilling the frantic movement of your lips with his own. You gasp against his mouth, but don’t push him away. In fact, your arms constrict around him, pulling him in closer.

He’s not entirely sure how that makes him feel.

Phone call after phone call buzzes at his side, but Bakugo ignores all of them. Maybe it was one of his sidekicks checking in on him. Maybe it was the agency trying to convince him to do a press briefing. Maybe it was Kirishima, just making sure he wasn’t dead. Either way, answering would be a waste of what precious little time he had left.

Three hours–that’s how long it’d been since your phone started dropping calls. It’d been at least four hours since he’d heard from you last and six since he’d seen you with his own two eyes. If you’d been a civilian, he would’ve told anyone searching for you to go home–let the heroes handle it. Which was code for “they’re probably gone for good.” But you weren’t a civilian, and you couldn’t be gone. That wasn’t how this whole shit-show was supposed to go down. The two of you were partners, dammit. You were supposed to stick together–watch each other's backs. One of you couldn’t just go off and get killed without the other.

Right?

The thought makes Bakugo’s anxiety spike again, his hyperventilation returning. He braces himself against the first wall he finds. It belongs to some sort of warehouse, but he barely even notices. His main concern is calming the fuck down–trying to inhale and exhale without focusing on the fact that he might already be too late. He’s terrible at it.

Everything aches. His arms, his legs, his back, even his fucking mind. It’s a dull feeling, lingering. Agonizing and persistent. Not like a punch to the jaw, where you focus on it for a second then move on. With the added pressure of breathing, it’s almost too much.

Bakugo rams his fist into the wall, harder than he should. He can feel his knuckles crack on impact with the cement or concrete or whatever it was they used in buildings nowadays, but the sting that shoots through his fingers is welcome, a distraction from the rest of the pain and, more importantly, from his own morbid thoughts. It fades soon though.

He’s about to do it again–sacrifice more of his fingers to his own, temporary relief–then there’s a sound. It’s soft, like a pin dropping in a loud room. But something about it is familiar–too familiar.

Bakugo freezes, suddenly capable of holding his breath. He catches the back half of something–he can’t decide what–as it fades off into the ambient noise of the street. When he waits for a while and it doesn’t start back up, he smacks the wall again, sparing his fingers by using his palm this time.

Then, he presses his ear to the wall and listens. It begins again and his breath hitches involuntarily.  He was right–he knows this sound.

Tap, tap, tap.  Groups of three.  Faint and weaker than ever before, but unmistakable all the same.

The wall crumbles away with a couple hard hits.  Buildings weren’t supposed to do that–to splinter and crack like chalk.  No doubt your quirk had some part to play there.

Knowing that doesn’t stop heat from pulsing in his skull when he finds your heaving, broken body nestled into a spot that should’ve been filled with concrete.  Your limbs twisted at the wrong angles, eyes glazed over–open, but staring at nothing.  Even as he lifts you out of your hiding place, you barely react.  Quiet.  No wincing, no witty remarks.  Just shallow wheezing that grows weaker by the second.

“Breathe, dammit.”  Bakugo commands, grabbing you and sprinting towards the triage area.  “Come on, you need to breathe. In and out, remember?”

Each time your body stills–every moment your breathing falters for just a second–he finds himself holding his breath with you.  Counting the seconds, making sure you’re actually listening when he tells you to inhale. He wishes that were enough, wishes that staying alive was something you could just decide to do–like rewinding damage on an old wall or fixing a bad attitude with a well-timed right hook.

It wasn’t that easy; Bakugo wasn’t stupid enough to think that it was.  Still, even if it means babying you, monitoring each breath like he’s some sort of fucking life-support machine, he refuses to let you die.  Not now, not ever.  

You weren’t getting out of this gig that easily.  You were stuck–his partner for life, whether you wanted to be or not.

Sweat pours down his face as he ups his pace.

“I’ve got you–same as always.  Just keep breathing with me, okay?”

[inkjackets]

A Matter of Ace-ceptance Ch3

I apologise for breaking my promise to get this story out before March, life kinda took over. I’m super excited about writing the final chapter though and I hope you’ll also enjoy where I take it! :)

Read on AO3 here

Ch1 Ch2 Ch4 Ch5 Epilogue

Marinette trudged glumly along the Seine River. The day hadn’t gone as well as planned and there was a heaviness in her heart. Apart from the encounter that morning, Marinette hadn’t spoken to Adrien all day, but that hadn’t prevented thoughts of him from taking over her mind. In an attempt to forget all about their embarrassing exchange, Marinette had decided to treat herself to some shopping after school. She had spent a good two hours wandering around craft stores and boutique shops in Paris, buying all sorts of materials, textiles, art supplies and clothes. For a while, it had worked and her head had cleared a little, but now her thoughts were once more taking over her mind. Not to mention she felt sore from the amount walking she had done and the weight of her bags.

Marinette sighed. It was a beautiful afternoon, the water glistened, people chatted, and the bright sun shined down on them all. Inside, however, Marinette was tightly wound up. Usually after an embarrassing encounter with Adrien, she would rant and unleash her anxieties on Alya, but today Marinette had been so upset that she had barely been able to get a word out. She took a deep breath in an attempt to calm her frenzied heart. She slowed her steps and forced herself to take deep breaths. Eventually, the relaxed afternoon atmosphere and the walk along the river calm her down once more.

She shifted her bags and somehow managed to pull out her mobile. She clicked the most recent contact. 

“Hey, girl,” Alya said when the line connected, “What’s up?”

“I just, I can’t stop thinking about Adrien,” Marinette sighed.

Alya laughed, “You have got it way too bad!”

“But Alya,” Marinette bit her lip as she voiced the main concern that had been circling her head throughout the day, “he called me a friend, what do you think that means?”

“Oh, Mari,” said Alya tenderly, “I love you girl, but let’s be honest, how many coherent sentences have you said to him?”

Marinette was silent. “I’m trying,” she finally said with a whimper.

“I know you are,” said Alya empathetically, “But… am I right or am I right?”

Marinette grumbled.

Alya laughed, “You just need to give him time, keep giving gifts like that and he’s bound to fall for you.” Marinette couldn’t help but smile at that. “I personally reckon he’s falling for you already,” Alya said with a smug tone, “but don’t forget he’s designed to be closed off by nature, so you can’t blame him really for being so hesitant.”

Marinette frowned, “What do you mean?”

“You know, seeing how famous he is, one step outside the norm, one teensy line crossed and his face would be plastered all over celebrity magazines. Not to mention being raised the way he has, having a crazy strict father and a tragic backstory of a disappearing mother, it would be enough to keep anyone on edge.”

“Huh,” Marinette honestly hadn’t really noticed. He just always seemed like an outgoing, bright ray of sunshine to her.

“I’ll say this though, he’s definitely become a lot more confident since he started school.”

Marinette cocked her head to the side, “Isn’t he already pretty confident in himself?”

“Hah!” Alya laughed louder than she had meant, causing Marinette to momentarily pull the phone away from her ear. “Confident in himself? No, I meant he’s gotten more confident with others.” Alya paused, “Maybe confident is the wrong word… more genuine.”

“Genuine? What do you mean? Why don’t you think he’s confident?”

“Girl, I thought you would have been the first to notice it. Every time he interacts with someone outside our little friendship group, he slaps on that model smile and slips into a routine that’s obviously been drilled into him since before he could walk.” Marinette didn’t say anything. “However, recently he’s gotten more relaxed, more real, in his interactions with others. His smile is softer, his posture more natural. He’s by no means open, but he’s definitely loads better than when we first met him.”

Marinette continued her slow walk down the Seine in silence.

She heard Alya typing away on the other side of the line.

“Just keep being you, girl,” Alya said eventually, “maybe without all the stammering,” she joked. 

“Hey! I’m trying my best,”

“Haha! I know you are girl, and I have no doubt that one day Adrien will be head over heels for you.”

“Really?”

“You two were made for each other,” Alya said. Marinette cheeks flushed and a bashful smile crept onto her face. “Anywho, I’ve really gotta finish this article for the Ladyblog, catch you later, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” Marinette hung up and exhaled.

She stared at her feet as she meandered along the path. She let the gentle lapping of the river flow through her head as the sun warmed her back.

She stared at the bright sunlight on the ground and her black shadow that cut right through it. 

Thoughts of the Adrien she thought she knew swirled around her head. The things Alya had just said painted a completely different picture of him. Marinette stopped in her tracks.

The things Alya had said painted a completely real picture of him.

Marinette shook her head in an attempt to digest this sudden realisation, but it was then that she saw him, in the periphery of her vision, Adrien, just sitting there on a bench along the river, all by himself.

Marinette’s eyes darted around. She was at a loss of what to do.

Adrien was leant forward, arms resting on his knees and hands clasped, staring intently over the water. He hadn’t seen her yet.

Usually, Marinette would’ve hidden and avoided him, unless Alya was with her, in which case a petrified Marinette would’ve been dragged over.

Marinette shifted the bags in her arms. She should leave him alone, he didn’t look like he wanted to be disturbed anyway. She turned to take the nearest staircase up to the main road but glanced at Adrien one more time before she did.

She froze mid step. Adrien had changed his position so his face was in his hands. Marinette sucked in her breath. For the first time in her life Marinette looked, really looked at him and caught a glimpse of the Adrien that Alya had spoken about, the Adrien that wasn’t simply sitting there alone… but was sitting there lonely.

This subtle difference caused Marinette’s heart to thump as a quiet sort of determination hummed through her body.

She was going to go over to Adrien and help him.

Her breathing quickened and hands grew clammy as she walked up to him.

“Adrien?” she asked cautiously as she drew near.

Adrien jumped and quickly wiped his face with his sleeve.

“H-Hey Marinette,” he said when he saw who it was but he didn’t quite meet her eyes.

“Adrien?” Her eyes widened with surprise as she moved to stand right next to him. His eyes were red. He’d been crying. “Are you all right?”

Adrien bit his lip and turned his head away from her. His fists clenched on his knees.

He took a deep breath in, “Yes,” he said sitting up straight and facing forward. He closed his eyes and exhaled, releasing some of the tension from his body. He opened his eyes, “I am fine,” he said more to himself than Marinette. He wiped his eyes once more before turning to her, still not quite meeting her eyes, “Sorry you have to see me like this, you caught me at a bad time,” he gave an apologetic smile.

Marinette’s eyes widened, “Don’t say sorry!” she exclaimed. Alya’s words about Adrien’s pressures rolled round her head, “You have nothing to be ashamed of,” she added tenderly.

Adrien’s eyes finally sound her’s.

“Thank you,” he said softly. He gave a small smile, heavy with emotional exhaustion, but also with relief. It pierced Marinette’s, heart.

Adrien shuffled along the bench and patted the space next to him. Marinette put her bags down and accepted his offer.

They sat in silence. Adrien leant forward once more, staring blankly ahead. Marinette fidgeted, trying to think up something to say to dispel the silence but, when she caught Adrien’s expression in the corner of her eye, she realised what Adrien needed wasn’t someone to help solve his problems or talk through them with him. No, what Adrien needed was someone who was happy to just be there with him, someone to sit there and get lost in their own respective minds, together.

Marinette closed her eyes and relaxed into the bench. She let the usual sounds of Parisian life wash over her; the rushing of cars overhead, the gushing of the river, people’s babbling voices. A tranquil serenity flowed through her as she felt the sunlight dance on her eyelids and warm her skin.

It was a while before either of them spoke.

“I just…,” Adrien started a hesitant sentence.

“Hmm?” Marinette opened her eyes and sat up, Adrien was still leaning forward, eyes glazed over. “Do you ever feel like, even though you’re surrounded by family and friends…and fans,” he added as an afterthought, a wry smile tugged at his lips, “that…,” his expression fell back into emptiness and his voice dropped to a whisper, “that nobody could ever love you?”

The world faded around Marinette. The daily noises from cars and people overhead grew faint, the lapping of the river melted away, and the colours dimmed. 

All that was left was a wide-eyed girl gazing at an exhausted boy. 

Marinette suddenly saw Adrien clear as crystal.

She noticed the bags under his glassy eyes, the dullness in his hair, and the underlying tension in his body eating away at him both physically and mentally. It was as if the sticker of perfection she had placed over him was slowly peeling away. She saw the weight of pressure from his high-strung lifestyle hanging over his shoulders, the expectations from his father in his faintly creased brow and his anxiety about being judged by everyone, home and media alike,  ingrained into his very being. His expression was unnervingly deep.

Marinette froze like a deer caught in headlights. She felt as if Adrien was voicing a part of himself that wasn’t meant for her ears; a part of himself he had never meant anyone to see.

But then Adrien turned his head and bore his green eyes into her blue one’s, unveiling the true distress behind them. It was like a fog had been lifted and Marinette finally saw Adrien for who he was and who he wanted to be.

A cool breeze ruffled his dull hair and caused a sharp shiver to run up her body.

“I love you,” she blurted out.

The world slammed back into focus. The sounds of the river gushed in her ears, the noise from traffic and pedestrians was overwhelmed her, and the colours of the world blinded her for a split second.

Adrien’s tense expression turned into mortification.

“Oh man, you gave me the chocolates earlier, Mari, I’m so sorry! It was really sweet of you, but I-" 

Marinette heart dropped to her stomach but she hid it and silenced him with a sharp wave of her hand, "You don’t have to say anything,” she said quickly, “Just…,” she hesitated, “just don’t ever say that again.” She looked at the ground and locked her knees together nervously. “Don’t ever say nobody loves you,” she murmured.

Her words hung delicately between them. Adrien didn’t dare risk moving in case he broke them. 

Eventually, Marinette stood up, “I should be getting home,” she avoided his pained gaze.

“You’re a great friend,” Adrien said softly, “you do know that right?”

Marinette tensed. She slowly drew her eyes towards his whilst shoving her shredded emotions deep down. She gave him a smile full of warmth and understanding. 

She hoped it was convincing.

Bonus Scene:

“Hey, let me walk you home.”

“Oh no, really you don’t-

But Adrien had already stepped around her and scooped up her bags.

He strained slightly under the weight of them, "Jesus, Marinette! How have you carried these all this way?”

Marinette brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear and shrugged.

Side by side they walked along the river. Adrien refused to hand her even one of the bags. Even when she pulled at one, threatening to spill its contents, Adrien remained stubborn.

“Stop it, Mari, I’m not giving you one,” he gave a cheeky grin, the sparkle she knew so well was once more shining in his eyes.

Marinette exasperatedly threw her hands in the air, Adrien laughed. Marinette giggled.

They walked along a bit further in silence.

Marinette was once more her shy self after that abrupt show of confidence.

“Hey, Adrien,” she said carefully, “how come you were down by the river? I heard from Nino that your father rarely lets you out by yourself…”

“Oh,” Adrien’s eyes flicked down to his jacket and went shifty, “I, uh, snuck out.”

“Oh,” Marinette was silent a moment. “Shouldn’t you be getting back soon then?”

Adrien sighed, “Yeah, probably,” he gave another brash smile, “but a princess like you is-” Adrien’s eyes widened, “um, is, er, is more important than my father,” he finished quickly, his voice losing all its former confidence. His cheeks flushed.

Marinette failed to notice Adrien’s sudden change in demeanour, she was too busy feeling warm and fuzzy on the inside. He had called her princess! Only one other guy had called her princess before and she much preferred it when it came from Adrien’s mouth than his…

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter