#lol i say emotionally regulating when he’s shouting like there’s no tomorrow

[seagreenstardust]

It’s become so apparent to me that whenever Katsuki yells at Izuku in seasons 4 or 5 it’s usually a direct result of him getting flustered. If Izuku shows any ounce of caring about Katsuki, of being happy because of or for him there’s is almost always an explosion of shouting in result.

Katsuki Bakugo doesn’t blush when he’s flustered, he yells and blows things up and it’s astounding to me how clear that is in canon. He’s emotionally regulating the only way he knows how. We know his internal landscape is rapidly changing at this point so it makes total sense for him to end up in these situations where he doesn’t know what to do or how to handle or even identify his feelings so he falls back into what’s comfortable just to maintain a little equilibrium

[xseaxwitchxkpop]

Too Much Overthinking

A/N: This fic is pretty reflective of my own thoughts and pretty self-indulgent. While I kinda wanted to keep this to myself, I felt that there’s other people that could benefit from the comfort of the fic that I tried to go for. Self-love, or at very least self-acceptance, is such a hard journey and sometimes our heads get the better of us. The reader is not necessarily female, so I used no female pronouns, but the reader is framed as femme-presenting, so keep that in mind when reading. So many of fics like these end in sex and it irks me because us fat people are not fetishes, we are people, and deserve to be comforted as such, so I decided to write what I want lol. Also I chose Jongho because he comes off as very emotionally mature and very emotionally intelligent (ignore the fact that he was one of two members that caught my attention and made me stan Ateez lol).

Genre: Comfort

Reader Type: femme!reader, plussize!reader

CW: very negative thoughts, body image issues, a little emotional lol

Requested: NO

Group: ATEEZ -- Jongho

Word Count: 1,491

The boys stayed late at the studio, the night steadily getting darker as you stare out the window and watch the moon climb into the sky and shine. The day feels over already and Jongho once again misses the dinner you made him earlier, complete with missing the cute lunchbox cake you got to celebrate your two year anniversary.

Your heart sinks and your mouth turns into a frown -- you never considered yourself clingy or codependent, but there are times when perhaps you would like him to think about you a little more or that you wanted to stick to his side and never let go. 

But him missing this special dinner tonight triggered your negative thoughts and began a less-than-savory night for you; no, you don’t blame him for your thoughts because he didn’t force you to think the things you do, but the current situation certainly doesn’t help.

The soft blankets welcome you with arms of warmth and the mountain of pillows cradle your head as you stare at the ceiling with horrid thoughts running through your heads. You’re too fat, anyway, didn’t need the amount of carbs in the noodles. Your stomach sticks out and sweeps the edge of the counter in a way it shouldn’t, time to lose some! You’re nothing but a good fuck for him, he’s definitely trying to get another woman that’s thinner...they’ve been using a lot of female backup dancers lately…

You whip yourself around in your blankets, trying to squash the thoughts or at least put a temporary stop to them. 

You’re not sure how much time has passed, but you hear the door to your apartment opening and closing, accompanied by shuffling that indicates Jongho came by and took off his jacket, shoes, and made his way to the bedroom. 

You feel the bed dip down behind you and a solid chest snuggle against your back; his arm threw itself around your body and squished you against him, squishing your stomach in the process and making you feel extremely uncomfortable. His breath lingered on the back of your neck as you heard him whisper that he’s sorry for missing the dinner and that he’d make it up to you tomorrow.

You certainly didn’t want him to know you’re awake, but your mouth moves faster than your brain: “Are you actually?”

His breathing hitches, not realizing that you are still awake. The grip around your midsection loosened and you take the opportunity to lift his arm off of you and scoot away from him. He props himself up on his elbow and peers at the back of your head -- you can’t see the hurt and confusion in his eyes, but you can at least feel the searing gaze aimed at the back of your head.

“What do you mean by that?” he asks, wanting to reach out a hand and rub your arm, but forcing himself to stop. He knows that he fucked up by missing the anniversary celebration, but the synergy of the group was radically off kilter today and it took longer than it should have for all of them to perfect the choreography and he was going to explain tomorrow. But he can’t figure out why this bothered you so much -- you were always understanding and that’s one of the reasons you had his heart.

All you can do is sigh, not wanting to burden him with your negative thoughts, but your tear ducts have other ideas and so thus did your brain.

“What I mean is why stay so late? And without so much as a text or phone call?” you mumble.

“Hmm?” he says, not quite hearing you.

You sit up and turn yourself to face him, barely holding back tears. “Do you not love me any more? Am I not attractive to you any more? Am I just a good fuck for you at this point?”

Jongho’s face fell (not that you can see it in the darkness of the room) and he reaches out to your vague silhouette, wanting to caress your face. “Y/N --”

“No!” you shout at him, hugging yourself and scooting yourself further from him, the hard surface of the wall hitting your back.

“There’s gonna be a day where you wake up and realize that you don’t love me any more, realize that my fat stomach is not cute or good for gripping but repulsive, that my back rolls aren’t sexy but gross, that you’re just lying to yourself and lying to me! You don’t find me sexy, you don’t find my body attractive, and you’ll wake up and realize that and leave me! There’s so many better people out there, yeah, with thinner bodies, with no protruding stomach, with slim arms and a defined jawline, no fat poking out in their bras, with legs that don’t rub together and chaff and can fit beautifully into short skirts…one day, you’re gonna wake up and look at me the way I look at myself.”

Tears leave streaks down your face as you ramble. You tighten the blankets around you in an effort to hide yourself. And Jongho, your boyfriend of two years who has done nothing but make you feel loved, that shows you off in public and is proud to have you for a S/O, feels his heart drop so low he doesn’t know if it is in his body any more. His eyes also sting with tears hearing how you view yourself and he’s at a loss for what to say; he knows that you don’t think highly of yourself, but to hear it in its entirety, with you in tears and hearing, unfiltered, what goes on in your head hurts him. He remembers the intense struggle that Seonghwa had with his own image and how he still slips into that mindset sometimes, but you’re not Seonghwa and can’t be reassured the same way.

Jongho crawled his way to you and cupped your face, forcing you to look him in the eyes as much as possible. At a loss for what else to do, he places his lips gently on yours and just stays there; he feels the wet tracks from your eyes to your chin and the ragged breaths through your nose from your crying.

He eventually pulls away but stays close to your face, rubbing his thumb across your cheekbone. “Why are you thinking these things, hm? Was it because I stayed late? I really am sorry about that,” he whispers into the space between you two.

“I...I don’t know...I just...you’re using more female backup dancers...and you missed my...missed my dinner.”

“What do female backup dancers have to do with anything? Do you think any of them can take me from you?”

You look up at him as he hits the nail on the head, pathetically sniffling in an attempt to not only regulate breathing but also not to open the floodgates again.

“Oh, sweetheart, nothing like that will happen,” he says, pulling you into a tight hug, fighting you, fighting him because the last thing that he wants is for you to think he’s gonna leave you high and dry. 

You sink into him, trying even harder to not cry and trying not to think about how you look when crying, trying to ignore the thoughts that tell you that you being an ugly crier is part of the reason that you are horrendously unattractive.

“But what if it does? They’re fit, they’re healthy, they’re attractive…” you start, muttering into his shoulder.

“Who said that?” he counters with lightning speed, not letting you finish the statement. “You? You can’t trust your opinion of yourself in the mirror, how are you to judge what I do and don’t find attractive? You say they’re attractive to me because you don’t find yourself attractive enough to be with me, which your heart will tell you is not true.”

You can’t hold anything in any more and let yourself cry, and not just a small one. You soak his shirt with tears, you claw your way onto his lap and hold him in a death-grip, and you cried, a cathartic one that poured at your emotions into this one cry.

Jongho can’t do anything but hold you with a heavy heart; hearing you cry your heart out hurt him to a degree and he had to hold back his own tears threatening to spill. 

He leans back against the mountain of pillows, pulling you with him, and rubbing your back and squeezing your shoulder. You cry yourself to sleep, eventually becoming dead weight on your boyfriend’s chest, which he wholeheartedly embraced. He slowly falls asleep after you, promising himself that, despite the good communication you two had, he���d try to be more mindful of how much you feel loved and ensure that he doesn’t leave doubt in the future for his love for you.