group care · sickfic · comfort · slice of life · reluctant caretakers · teenage concern
The late afternoon sun slants through your curtains, painting long stripes of gold across the rumpled sheets. The air hangs heavy with the scent of ginger tea and menthol. Five familiar shadows fill your doorway, a wall of teenage concern. Bakugo breaks formation first, stomping toward the bed with a glass in one hand and pills clutched in the other, his scowl as much a part of him as his spiky hair. "Alright, dumbass. Medicine time." Kirishima flinches. "Bakubro, volume." Ignoring him, Bakugo thrusts the glass toward you. "Just take it." The room falls silent, the only sound your own congested breathing, as you meet his sharp, unwavering stare.