#its not big boy broth though

[deathbypufferfish]

Is it the slav or Skyrim player in me that thinks if I drink beef broth I will magically feel stronger and defeat this cold

[http-tokki]

ʚ⁺˖ ↠ blue

ᰔ pairings: dabi/touya todoroki x fem!reader ᰔ content/tags: mha spoilers, childhood pov, abusive childhoods, childhood crush, blood, allusions to self harm/suicide, explicit language, smut, kinda not really, its smutty talk, angst, allusions to s/a, power dynamics, time jump to when touya is like 26, creative liberties have been taken with the original story, set in the century 2400 ᰔ wc: 10.5k ᰔ a/n: so there is a bit of a weird timeline with this one. instead of touya dying at 13, I've made it he dies at 16 and the subsequent events are a lil delayed, in the manga he is 24 atm but here i have him as 26, please suspend your disbelief for a sec cause the amount of work ive put into this so it makes sense, i almost went crazy

March 10th 2460 Touya: aged nine You: aged eight (and three-quarters)

Breakfast is at five, lunch at twelve, and dinner at seven.

The clock hands tick over the first five graduations and onto the sixth, meaning it is six minutes past seven and dinner is late.

Lateness is not tolerated by the Todoroki clan.

No reason, whether it be big or small, would be accepted nor understood by the head of the family, and punishment for being tardy ranged from groundings to lectures and in the most severe cases, a beating. However, those parameters do not extend to said head, who you think to be more akin to that of a prison warden than a father.

You watch the housekeeper slide the last of the food onto the table and take another look at the clock.

7:08.

The table had been set, food diligently prepared and presented, plates piled high with greens and dripping meat, three different kinds of fish, an array of soups, and other liquid foods. Mrs Todoroki often had trouble eating, so instead opted for warm broths and hot teas, and they were all going cold while you waited for Mr Todoroki to come in from Touya’s nightly training. Saliva coats your tongue as you breathe in the heavenly scents wafting from the mountains of food, your stomach growling in protest at not being filled with the delicious smells.

Ten minutes pass and just before the eleventh has a chance to be observed, the sliding doors to the dining room whoosh open. With the ease and casualness of someone who is above the law of the household, Enji Todoroki strolls in followed closely behind by the eldest sibling.

Touya trails behind his father, movements sluggish and slow, his frail body slumped in exhaustion and what you would only later realise as terror. You can almost see the muck that weighs on his body, dripping off sharp bones in big flat globs of swamp green mud, seeping into the reeds of the tatami mats below. Fresh wounds litter his arms, blooms of dark red blood pock the sterile bandages that were hastily wrapped around his limbs. The stark white began at his wrists and climbed up and up his arms until they disappeared beneath the sleeve of his t-shirt. You follow Touya, eyes lingering on his wounds as he sits down opposite you.

“Fuyumi. Is he-“ Your question is hushed, spoken from the corner of your mouth to avoid raising suspicion of the subject.

“He’s okay, we don’t talk about it.” Her answer comes in a rush, eyes darting towards her father like a prey animal watching their stalker.  “Just eat.” 

Fuyumi’s mouth pulls into a frown for a quick second before her attention moves to the food before her.

You nod, attention shifting from the boy across the table to the plate that had been prepared just for you. A small helping of meat and fish paired with a big serving of rice and vegetables, the nanny even going as far as to put it into a divider plate as though you were a toddler, but you thanked her regardless, smiling up at the haggard-looking woman as she nodded politely and moved onto tending to baby Shouto. The food only holds your attention for so long before you glance back up at Touya, watching as he cuts into his steak with the precision of a man far beyond his years. Each move slow and calculated; every shift of his arms or turn of his head deliberate and purposeful, small actions to avoid raising awareness of his person. Come to think of it, all the children, save for Shouto, moved like that. As if they were in constant apologetic states just for breathing, existing, and with their father you understand why, but it doesn’t stop you from staring at the boy before you.

"Stop looking. He doesn't like it when you stare." Fuyumi whispers, smacking her knee against yours.

"But it looks like it hurts." You whisper back, unable to look away from the red splotches on the white bandages.

You want to ask if he is okay. If he needs a doctor and who did that to him? Was it a bully at school? How was the school not getting involved if he was being bullied this bad?

"Fuyumi," Touya sneers from across the table. "Tell your friend to stop staring at me."

Unabashed hatred simmers in his blue eyes as his glare falls on you. Heat rises to your cheeks, stumbling out an apology, and vowing to never look at him again.

No one had ever looked at you like that. With such hatred and malice, you didn’t even know existed.

"He plays rough, always falling over at school," Mr. Todoroki’s voice booms throughout the room, so loud and sudden it is like a thunderclap on a clear day. "You've got to be more careful, Touya. What would people think if they saw you like this!"

The lack of care for his son’s well-being gives you pause mid-bite. The vegetables fall from your fork as goosebumps skitter along your skin.

What would people think if they saw you like this?

What would they think other than he had been in an accident? Is Touya’s broken body a regular occurrence that people would be so used to seeing that it would start to raise suspicion? Had he been hurt on purpose? Why would Mr. Todoroki say that? Did Mr. Todoroki do that to Touya?

Your attention is pulled outwardly as Natsuo starts to talk about his day, telling his mom and the housekeepers all about the latest games and toys at school, the newest edition of a card game you like captivates you and your thoughts are swept away from the strange boy across from you. 

Dinner ended as it always did.

Mr. Todoroki called the housekeeper over to deal with the mess and children as he retired to his office and Mrs Todoroki took her evening walk around the grounds of the estate. You can’t stay the night despite it being a Friday, you’re never allowed to stay the night. Fuyumi had stayed at yours plenty of times, your parents never saying no to another friend but never you at hers. You thanked both her parents and waved bye to her brother before the youngest housekeeper walked you home. That’s how every Friday night ended.

That routine had become a staple in your life, going on two years, before there was a change to the way of things.

------

July 1st 2362 Touya: aged eleven You: aged ten

The shift was subtle and gradual, like the way a house is warmed by a fire on a winter’s eve. Slow and steady, seeping into all corners of the once-frozen house until all you know is warmth and you can’t remember how the cold felt. That’s how you would describe Touya’s presence in your life. From the arctic interactions each Friday night at the dinner table to someone you would call a friend.

The first thaw of the ice wall that had formed around your friend’s brother, was an accident.

Knee deep in the heat of summer, you had rushed over after summer school, swimmers in your backpack and a dream of jumping into the fresh cold heaven that was the local pool. You had come looking for Fuyumi, hell-bent on getting your poor friend out of the stuffy old house and somewhere she could have fun without the risk of her dad making her or her siblings cry.

You had come to hate Mr Todoroki.

He hadn’t done anything to you personally to deserve the contempt you held towards your friend's dad but you had heard enough from Fuyumi. She had told you all the times he made her mom cry. How there would be arguing and then the sounds of breaking plates followed by her mom’s cries. Mrs. Todoroki never said anything was wrong, never alluded to anything other than a mild argument but there had to be something more, right? Adults didn’t cry over nothing!

“ ‘Yumi, let's go to the pool!” you call down the hall. “I’ll buy ice cream this time.”

The housekeeper had let you in, instructing that your friend was in her room finishing up some school work but after you checked her room and found no sign of her, you went looking.

That is how you found Touya.

Walking into the bathroom under the assumption you would find Feyumi, you are greeted with a situation you are not old enough to understand the severity of.

Touya slouched on the bathroom floor, surrounded by bloodied towels, unspooled bandages, and uncapped ointment tubes. A piece of gauze caught between his teeth as he attempts to bandage his bleeding hand.

He shouts at you to leave, his command broken as he hiccups around the sobs falling from him. Scorched skin covering the majority of his arms, fingers red and blistering as they shake.

That image sears into your brain. Imprinting itself onto your eyelids so that each time you fall asleep, you see Touya; broken and bloody.

There isn’t much you remember from that afternoon, only flashes and stills that live in the recesses of your mind.

The feel of the cold tiles on your exposed legs as you knelt before the once terrifying older boy who had never had a single nice thing to say to you.

The smell of salt and metal of his fresh blood.

The sound of Touya’s cries as you peeled incorrectly placed bandages off raw and exposed skin.

The acidic taste of bile in the back of your throat upon first laying eyes on the scene before you.

It had been too much for little you to comprehend so you just forgot most of it. Thrown it into a locked drawer in your mind and lost the key.

That was the beginning of the thaw, a gruesome and bloody beginning to a friendship that spanned years and ended just as horribly.

------

September 23rd 2463 Touya: aged twelve You: aged eleven

“So it's this really old movie that my mum used to watch” you explain as you click on the familiar title screen. “It’s about a girl who gets transported to this weird world and she has to solve some weird riddle to get out.”

Touya looks at you like you had grown a second head but accepts your weird movie recommendation. You sit down next to him, popcorn bucket jiggling as the couch sinks under your frame.

The beginning animation of Spirited Away starts and the familiar tune wraps around you like a warm hug. This was the movie you liked to watch whenever you felt sad, and you noticed Touya was a little sadder than normal these days so you offered to have a movie night. His siblings had all said yes but upon discovering that the movie was one from decades ago, backed out. So with just the two of you left, you sit in silence and watch as the beautiful world comes to life.

It’s a nice moment between the two of you, sharing something so personal with someone you would have never considered a friend and here the two of you were, watching a movie. Like friends!

“I’m gonna call you Chihiro cause all she does is cry and that’s all you do too,” Touya announces as the credits begin to roll.

“I do not!” you retort, slapping his arm lightly. “I cry a normal amount for a girl my age!”

Touya rolls his eyes. “Whatever, Chihiro.”

------

February 14th 2464 Touya: aged thirteen You: aged twelve

Spring is only a month away yet it feels as if it were the middle of December.

The cold of winter had sunk its claws deep into the city and it seemed as if it did not have plans to let go of it anytime soon. Everyone in Tokyo bundled up against the frost that coated the wind but it wasn’t the cold that had your hands trembling as you gripped a single rose.

It was Valentine's Day and you were about to ask Touya to be yours.

The nerves that had built in your stomach had taken over your extremities. It was as if your entire body was a live wire that every so often touched an exposed pipe and jolted.

In the two years since the bathroom incident, you had grown closer to the oldest Todoroki, sparking a friendship that consisted of more than smiles and shy hellos across the dinner table. Phone calls and text messages were the daily, walking to school and home together was the new norm, all things that one would consider friendly but there was a part within your heart that was growing to like Touya a little more than a friend. You knew it was a crush, you weren’t a little kid anymore, but you also knew that he was unattainable for many reasons. One was that he was a sibling of a close friend and the other being that he was not someone who thought about life that way. There was no room for crushes in Touya’s world. There was only hero work. How to become a hero and then how to become the number one hero.

You had heard this speech a million times. His plans to surpass his father in the rank of heroes and become the ultimate symbol of peace. Heroes had no time for girlfriends, only villains.

But you had no plans of becoming a hero so there was no real reason you shouldn’t try, right? Your mom had bought you the flower this morning, picking up on the crush that you had developed on your friend and very excitedly pushed you to give Touya a gift.  

“What do I do with this?” Touya asks, confused as he takes the flower from your hands.

You had stopped halfway through the walk home and turned to your friend, eyes wide with fear, and shoved the bloom into his hands. Originally the plan was to hand it to him as you said goodbye for the afternoon but you were swiftly running out of ways to regulate your breathing to counteract the anxiety wreaking havoc in your stomach.

“It's for you” you answer, eyes trained on your shoes. 

“Me?” 

“Yes.”

“Are you asking me to be your valentine?” There is a pause. “Do you like me?”

Yes.

“No!” you lie, shouting the word even though you didn’t mean to. “I felt bad that you hadn’t gotten anything, so I got you something and there you go, it doesn’t mean I like you.”  

You hear footsteps, watching Touya’s shoes move closer to yours. “Just admit, you like me.” He teases. 

“I do not!” balling your fists, you stomp your foot. “I already told you why I got them now shut up before I take them back!” 

Another pause. 

“Thank you,” Touya says gently. “Even if it's just cause you felt bad for me” 

Spring had come early for Touya Todoroki.

------

June 28th 2466 Touya: aged fifteen You: aged fourteen

Romance had blossomed between the two of you, then wilted, then blossomed again, then wilted again.

Teenage hormones had been unleashing havoc on your friendship for the past year. One day you were fine and the next, barely speaking but it wasn’t anyone’s fault.

“You two just need some time apart and then you can talk about it, you guys will sort it out.” Your mother had cooed, stroking your hair back as you cried one afternoon after you and Touya had had a ruthless argument.

The topic of fighting was always the same. His insane need to overtake his father and prove him wrong. The need within him had turned insatiable. Morphing from a dream that would one day be achieved with dedication and hard work into something that was turning your best friend into a ravenous beast.

“You’re not listening to me. I need you to listen to me.” Touya shouts as you walk home together.

“I am. You’re just not making sense.” You roll your eyes at your friend, turning your attention away from the raving lunatic walking beside you.

“Why would your dad have it out for you? He’s your dad?”

Touya huffs and stops, hand wrapping around your wrist to pull you back.

“My dad isn’t like your dad. He doesn’t love me or any of us. He just wants us to be better than All Might.” His words are slow as if explaining something to a toddler. “He knows that I am more powerful than him and now he’s scared that I might beat him so he wants me to stop training.”

You groan out his name, annoyed at the constant conversation topic. “Your dad wants you to stop training because you keep hurting yourself. He has told you that a million times, he’s just trying to keep you safe.”

“If he wanted to keep me safe, he wouldn’t have let me train like this. This isn’t about me being safe, this is about me outranking my dad.”

“Touya-“

He continues his tirade. “Enji has realised that I am better than him and Shoto but he doesn’t want his loser son who can only use fire to become the number one hero. I don’t know why you’re on his side. Why can’t you be on my side for once?”

“I am on your side!” you shout, yanking your arm away from his grasp. “I’m always on your side, why do you always make it seem like everyone is against you!”

Touya’s mouth snaps shut at your sudden outburst.

“I can’t keep having this argument with you. I feel like you don’t even want to be my friend so you come up with this stupid stuff to push me away and if you want that, fine. Just tell me so I don’t have to listen to you anymore.” You huff and turn around, starting on your way home without your friend.

You don’t hear his footsteps follow you.

His apology comes in a text later that night.

I'm sorry, Chihiro. Can we still be friends?

------

October 19th 2466 Touya: aged fifteen You: aged fourteen “Can you promise me something?”  Touya’s words become mist in the mid-autumn night.

“Depends.”

You turn to face your friend, feeling the dew-soaked grass squish beneath your shoulders. Hidden behind the garden wall, lost within the shrubbery the two of you hid from the housekeepers who had been tasked with wrangling the children in for dinner. Touya had run first, taking off down the hall the second he heard the call of his name and you followed, unaware as to what you were running from but you followed him everywhere so why wouldn’t you now?

“Please don’t forget me.”

“Forget you?” your brows crinkle in confusion. “Why would I forget you? Are you going somewhere?”

Touya is still on his back, attention rapt on the stars twinkling above him.

“Just when we get older and go to different schools and things change, you know.” He sighs. “Just don’t forget me.”

You sit up, concern overtaking your confusion. Why was he talking about this stuff now? Your friend turns to look at you, mouth pulled down in a frown as tears line his cerulean eyes.

“I won't.” You shake your head, scooting closer across the grass and grab his cold hand, interlocking your fingers together, you squeeze and swear an oath. “I promise, I won’t ever forget you.”

November 24th 2367 Touya: aged sixteen You: aged fifteen

Nights come quicker in winter.

Which means less time spent with Touya.

But at least there is a little extra time when he walks you home on an evening.

It is a little awkward. Walking so close together but not actually touching aside from the occasional brush of fingers that sent your heart into a sprint. There is something unspoken between the two of you, something that teeters on the edge of romance but not something that you are both ready to dive into. It’s not like you are kids anymore, if you are going to date, it will be different than if you just liked each other. You will have to act like a girlfriend and not his friend and you didn’t know how to be a girlfriend. Was it any different than how you acted now? Plus, kissing and hand-holding. God, you want to kiss him.

You both stop at the gate of your house. The lights in the living room are on which means your parents are up waiting for you.

Touya drops your backpack at your feet.

There is a beat of stillness between the two of you, the tension rising with every second. You had not spoken a single word to each other the entire walk home and you don’t think you will even say goodbye. Touya offers you a tight smile and steps back, confirming your suspicions of a silent goodbye.

"Hey, I need to tell you something." You blurt out the words, not wanting him to leave just yet.

"Yeah?"

"I…umm," you stammer, slipping your hands into your jacket pockets. "I know it's your birthday in a few weeks, so I wanted to know what you want as a present."

"That's a question, Chihiro” Touya's mouth lifts at the corners. “You said you needed to tell me something."

“I got mixed up." You amend.

"You sure? There isn't anything you need to tell me?" Touya pushes, taking a step to close the gap.

"I'm sure. I just got confused" You nod, affirming your choice of words. “What do you want as a gift?”

"Hmm,” He pauses and takes a few more steps closer, lips pursed as if deep in thought. “Well, I want some of those cookies your mom makes." 

Touya stops a few feet from you, close enough for a hug but not close enough that it was weird. 

You laugh. "Really? That's it? You don't want a proper present?"

He nods. "Wrap it up, and it'll be a proper present.”

“Okay, cookies it is” You mirror his nod and smile. Your palms start to sweat, cheeks and ears begin to burn as you look up at your best friend.

“Any more questions?” 

You shake your head. “Nope, that’s all.” 

“Okay, well I’m gonna go 'cause I should have been home ten minutes ago but you are such a slow walker” he teases, bouncing up on his toes. 

“I-Um,” you stutter, unable to come up with a snappy comeback due to his proximity. “Go home before you get into trouble.” 

“I’m gonna.”

He makes no move to go.

Silence fills the gap.

“Ahh, well I’m going to go since-“

You’re interrupted by a soft kiss against your cheek. 

You still, unable to move at the realisation that Touya had just kissed you. 

“Okay, I’m going.” He announces and takes a step back. “I’ll see you on Monday?” 

You nod, raising a hand in goodbye as he starts back down the street.

“I hope you like me too, 'cause that kiss made me late and my dad’s gonna kill me!” he shouts back, already halfway down the street. 

“I do…like you…back” you shout awkwardly, feeling every inch of blood your body had flood into your cheeks. “Good luck. Hope your dad doesn't kill you!” 

------

November 30th 2467 Touya: aged sixteen You: aged fifteen

You speak at Touya’s funeral. 

The third speaker of the ceremony, having been urged on by Fuyumi and Natsuo despite your protests, and the one to close off the day before his ashes were taken home. You tried not to cry, bottom lip wobbling all day and you would have made it had you not been shoved on stage, microphone held to your face as you unfolded the crumpled sheet you had stuffed into the pocket of your coat.

The rest of the day was a blur as was the week,  then the month and only after six full months of grieving daily, crying god only knows how much, did you finally start to see the light at the top of the hole you had buried yourself in but unlike the times you and Touya would play together, his warm hand wasn’t there to help you back up.

------

January 4th 2477 Touya: aged sixteen You: aged twenty-five

You think about Touya Todoroki often.

How your best friend had been killed in some freak accident. How despite his father rushing into the flames to save his son, had come out unscathed yet all that was found was Touya’s jaw bone. It didn’t make sense and you had driven yourself crazy with theories surrounding his death. It was an accident, they had all said. Even if it was an accident, Enji Todoroki was not innocent.

You think about the kind of man Touya could have been if he had lived, what kind of hero he would have become. How he would save the day then turn and smile at his adoring fans, blue eyes blazing bright with pride. You often think about his eyes, remembering how they softened whenever he would smile at you, brighten as you offered half of whatever snack bar you had that day. You think about him enough that you think you’re going crazy when you look up into the eyes of a stranger and see Touya staring back at you.

"Touya?" you whisper as you stare at the strange man.

You had walked headfirst into their chest while crossing the dark street, ducking under awnings to avoid the winter rain. Hoping to cut ten minutes from your usual walk home, desperate to beat your roommate home and into the warm embrace of your apartment’s limited hot water, you took the risk of walking down the alley; what you weren’t hoping for was to bump into your best friend’s dead brother. There was no way it was him, maybe he was a distant Todoroki. Enji did seem like the type to spread it around so maybe a few illegitimate children were running around with the eyes of Endeavour.

His hand reaches out to grab your arm, nails digging into your exposed flesh. You want to wince, to cringe away from him but something within you is telling you to hold your ground. The stranger pulls you closer, all false bravado leaving you as you realise what’s about to happen. Your body tenses, hands uselessly curling into fists at your side.

"Who the fuck are you?" a harsh whisper cuts through the quiet patter of rain.

The hand your arm tightens when you take too long to respond. 

“I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else.” Your answer whooshes from you, all air leaving your body in a single sentence.

The stranger ducks his head to get closer to yours and you turn your face away, afraid to look into the face of the man who had the eyes of a long-lost love. This had to be some sort of joke, right? You were not about to be assaulted by a guy who had Touya’s eyes, there was no way the universe was that cruel.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to I’m sorry, please.” Hot tears roll over your cheeks, your bottom lip quivering as you fight the frown wanting to form. You were not above begging despite knowing it wouldn’t do any good, if there was some way to get out of this situation alive and unscathed, you were going to try it. 

“Hey,” the stranger calls to you, shaking you gently. “Hey, I’m not gonna hurt you.” 

Great, he’s playing mind games now. You’ve seen enough true crime to know that there are no good people left in the world, especially the ones who lurk in alleyways.

A cold hand reaches out and grips your chin, lifting your face to his. The gesture is intimate, gentle and familiar.

“I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean anything by it. I'm sorry, I-“You’re sobbing now. 

“Look at me” he interrupts, fingers tightening on your cheeks.

He repeats his order when your gaze doesn’t move.

You sniffle, blink back tears that refuse to stop coming, and focus your attention on the man before you.

“I’m not going to hurt you so stop crying,” his voice is soft.

The hand that was on your arm now cups your cheek, thumb brushing away the tears that coat your cheeks. His skin is rough and warm, but there is a bite of something cold on his palm. He holds you with such tenderness you feel a tug at your heart not for any feelings towards the stranger but because you had never been held like this before. That a complete stranger who was probably a crazy psycho villain was holding you with the care you hold a baby animal with.

“I need you to stop crying and answer me, can you do that?” he asks, nodding as his thumb continues to brush over your cheek. 

You nod, taking in a shaky breath. 

“Good girl.” Heat floods your cheeks. “Now, why is a pretty girl like you walking alone at night?” he asks softly.

You blink up at him, surprised at the switch in demeanour. 

“I just finished work and this is shortcut.” you don’t have time to come up with an elaborate lie. “I’m really sorry about the whole name thing, you just look like a friend who died and I thought that maybe he wasn’t actually- I’m sorry” You feel the tears welling up again. 

“Well, he’s not me.” He sighs, removing his hands from your face. You kind of miss the warmth they had. “I’m sorry you lost someone, but I don’t think accusing strangers of being dead people is a good idea.”

You nod wordlessly, too stunned at his shift in tone to formulate a response. The man reaches up for the hood of your raincoat, pulling it over your head tight to shield you from the rain. 

“I need one more thing from you okay?” he asks, ducking his head to look into your eyes. “You gonna listen to me again?” 

“Okay.” Your voice shakes. 

“Don’t mention that name to anyone else, alright?” 

He waits for your nod and then releases your hood. “You’re such a good listener” The fact he is praising you has your heart spinning. Wasn’t he ready to attack you a few minutes ago?

“Now go home” he nods his head to the exit of the alleyway. You follow his nod and look back at the light-filled street. “And don’t walk down backstreets anymore, you could get hurt.” 

By the time you turn back to face him, he is already halfway down the alleyway arms raised in a farewell. You watch as he turns the corner and only when he is gone do you let yourself breathe. ------

March 6th 2477 Touya: aged sixteen You: aged twenty-five

"Let it go, dude," Natsuo sighs for the umpteenth time as he packs his books away. "You're lucky you didn't get hurt. He could have been a complete psycho."

Your friend is right and has been every other time you have brought up the strange man from the alley and you can tell by the way he shoves the textbooks into his backpack that his patience is running thin. Over the years, you had grown closer to Natsuo, looking at him like a little brother who you could force to hang out with and do things Fuyumi didn't want to. Unfortunately for him, he was the first person you called upon meeting the stranger (Knowing Fuyumi would have had a heart attack upon hearing about your encounter). Initially, Natsuo was concerned, terrified for your physical and mental wellbeing even going so far as to suggest letting his father know about the incident to launch a formal investigation but you were quick to shut that down. You hadn’t been hurt and the man didn’t seem to be skulking in alleyways to assault anyone so there is no reason you should get heroes involved.

"Dude, he looked so familiar! I know him," you press on, hands splayed on the library table as you lean in as if you were about to reveal a secret. "I think he was a childhood friend."

You had purposefully omitted the fact the stranger bore a striking resemblance to his dead brother or how his entire aura radiated familiarity and warmth something you only really felt from said brother.

Natsuo laughs and zips his bag closed. " 'Yumi was your only childhood friend."

"Fine, a neighbour, maybe I don't know, but I know him."

"Should I schedule you with my family psych, or will this fade by next month?" You frown at Natsu, sigh, and then give in to his pronounced lack of interest.

"I don't need to see anyone because I know I'm right," you start to pack up your things. "But, just for you, I won't mention it again."

------

May 17th 2477 Touya: aged sixteen You: aged twenty-five

You feel stupid.

Really fucking stupid.

So monumentally stupid with every single decision that has led you to this moment. Led you to stand before a thick metal door, the sliding peephole pulled back to allow the man guarding the entry a view as to who knocked like some girl scout. The box of cookies in your hands does nothing to evade that image.

“I have a meeting with…Dabi?” you look down at your phone, squinting at the blurry name on your screen then back to the man guarding whatever was in that building. “I think.”

You have no idea if you’re being set up. If the person you had been corresponding with was the infamous villain or just some poser but what you have deduced from your months long investigation is that you had in fact met Dabi in that alleyway so whether it was him or not you were about to meet, he is your only lead into finally figuring out what exactly happened to Touya

“You think?” You hear the smirk in his voice at the uncertainty in yours. “I think you might have the wrong door, sweetheart.”

It is the right door. The creepy encrypted message you received gave you this very location with the exact time to arrive. This was a giant risk on your behalf. Trusting strangers on the internet to give you accurate information as opposed to being lured into a trap for human trafficking but the need to know more about the mysterious man you had met weeks ago was gnawing at your insides so much that you were more need than person. The hunt had begun with a very broad search into Touya’s death and the records surrounding the tragedy before very quickly veering into villain records and archives. There was a small lead with a hospital admittance for an unidentified burn victim in a hospital a prefecture over from Tokyo but that went cold when the body of the patient was identified two weeks post mortem through dental records. You had all but given up when a weird email in your spam box caught your eye. It was from an unknown sender, hence the immediate spam allocation, and had nothing but a link to a chat site. There is no amount in the universe to quantify the stupidity in your subsequent actions from clicking the link to chatting with the stranger on the other side of the screen but they had the information you wanted and so you followed their instructions to a bookstore, then a bar and then finally an internet café where you logged into the already open discord chat that had the location of the final meeting point. You quickly snapped a picture of the chat before it disappeared and three days later, here you stand in a deserted alleyway surrounded by boarded-up doors and graffitied walls.

“This is the address I was given.” You explain, holding up the phone so the guy can get a look at the message. “I promise I'm not with the police or anything, I just have some questions for Dabi and I know that makes me sound like I’m a police officer but I’m not and I’ve been looking for him for weeks so please, let me in.”

Your mouth sets in a frown and despite wanting to look intimidating and rough, you know you look like a child pouting in an attempt to get more cake. “Please, I’ll give you some cookies if you want.” A shitty bribe but a bribe nonetheless.

The man snorts. “You really have cookies in that box?”

“Yes. Fresh and homemade made and some of them can be yours if you let me in” You wiggle the box.

There is a beat of silence then the sliding peephole slams shut.

Fuck.

You close your eyes, disappointed in the fact you had come so far only to be shut down by some guy behind a door. Maybe this was the universe stepping in and preventing you from getting killed or trafficked. Maybe you should let this whole thing go.

Just as the last of your hope leaves you, you hear the click of a lock and then the door is sliding open. The man who you had been speaking to not ten seconds ago stands before you, muscular tattooed arms crossed over his equally muscular chest.

“Choc chip?” he asks, eyes trained on the box in your hand.

You nod.

“Fine, come in” The man tilts his head in a gesture to welcome you in. “Leave some on the counter.”  

You nod again, your pace quick as you enter the building beyond the door.

The hallway is dim and damp, filled with cardboard and wooden crates stacked along the walls. The ceilings are high with exposed piping and hanging fluorescent bars that would have once lit up the entire walkway. Light bleeds beneath the many doors that line the hall, muted sounds following the flashes of colour that leak from the closed-off rooms. The smell is unpleasant, with mildew and mould growing along every available surface but what did you expect a dirty unoccupied building to smell like?

“Where’s the?” you turn to ask about the counter, but the man has disappeared. The door slides shut caging you in from the outside world, from an escape if need be. “Hello?” you call out and take a step back, dried leaves crunching beneath your feet.

Fuck. Fuck.

You turn on your heels, heading for the door you had stepped through a few seconds ago but are stopped by a familiar voice.

“Did you really bring me cookies?”

You whirl, fingers tightening on the box between them. “Yes, but if you don’t want them, it’s okay. I just thought that I might-“

You watch as the man you had met weeks before steps into the dim light. Breath catches in your throat as you are met with the face of the villain that has filled your screen for weeks now.

Dabi.

He is taller than you remember. Towering a full foot over you, his intimidating figure looms in the dim light. Your eyes follow the line of his scarred skin over his cheeks, down his neck, over exposed collarbones before disappearing beneath the neck of his shirt. Heat fills your face at your wandering gaze and you’re thankful for the lack of lighting.

“Who says I don’t want cookies?” Dabi smirks, taking a step out of the shadows.

“No one.” your answer is a broken stammer, earning a bemused snicker from your companion.

You take in a breath and square your shoulders. “I just don’t want to accuse you of anything.” A better delivery.

The villain hums and takes another step closer. “So, it is you then.”

Another foot closer, and when you don’t back away, one more. His steps are careful; small and reserved as if trying not to frighten you anymore than you already are. The routine is repeated, a hesitant dance of pushing proximity limits until he is less than a foot away. Blue eyes narrowed on you, brows furrowed in intrigue. Same blue as before. Same blue eyes as Touya.

His apprehension and fascination leave as quickly as it came, and you're left staring at a man who looks as if he wants nothing more to do with you.

“So, pretty girl, what can I do for you?” tone casual, pet name rolling off his tongue effortlessly. “You’ve gone through all this trouble to what?”

The thought of lying did cross your mind on your way over but you had already jumped through enough loops to get this meeting, you aren’t in the mood to play games and risk his irritation.

“I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Dabi tilts his head to the side the way an animal does to hear better. There is something so unsettling about the he moves, something not entirely human.

“Talk about what, angel?” his eyes blaze blue as he notices the twitch in your lips at the byname. “About the league? About you? Me?”

“About you.”

Heat pools in your stomach at his affectionate pet name, embarrassment following suit. You should not be letting him get to you the way he is, but it could also be a good bargaining chip. If you couldn’t afford his services monetarily, physical payment would not be entirely painful.

“We can talk about me but first, I want to ask you something.”

“Sure.” The false confidence you had summoned before has not left you yet.

The insincerity of your act is palpable, but Dabi lets you go, lets you take this small win.

“How long did it take you to find me?” his question is genuine, interested in just how exclusive access to him is.

An exhausted sigh leaves your body at the mention of the time that you had put into locating him and his lips quirk at the gesture.

“Four months and 2 weeks, I think.”

An irrationally long time but there are questions that demanding answers.

“So, you’ve spent almost five months thinking about me?” he taunts.

Me. The emphasis on the pronoun doesn’t evade you but you don’t have time to dwell on his excitement.

“Yes. And now I’ve answered two of your questions, can I ask one?”

Dabi shrugs and reaches for the box in your hands. Rough fingers brush against the back of your hands, goosebumps skittering over your skin at the contact. He takes his time opening the small white box, bottom lip pulled between his teeth in contemplation at the contents before him and after a full minute of silent deliberation, does he pick one. Slender unscarred fingers dig into the box, fishing out the biggest and most chocolate filled treat.

“Did you make these?” Dabi holds up the choc chip cookie, inspecting the biscuit in the low light.

“That’s three questions now.” you announce as the unofficial score keeper. “and yes, I made them this morning.”

The making of the desserts had been a coping mechanism on your part. Too nervous to sit still but not so overstimulated you were willing to exercise to shake off the extra energy, you turned to an activity you hadn’t touched since university. The recipe was one you know by heart, having it gifted to you by your mother on your eighteenth birthday, you were free to think as your body worked through the motions. However, the purpose behind you baking said sweets was not entirely self-soothing.

Dabi nods and bites into the biscuit.

“I know you already said you don’t know the guy I mentioned when I first met you and I haven’t mentioned him to anyone again just like you asked me, and I figured with you being a villain, you might have connections that I don’t have and you can access more information as to what happened to him and I promise that I can pay. I’ll pay whatever you want but I don’t really have that much but I’ll pay in food, and that’s kinda why I brought some cookies to show that I can bake but that will only be a small amount because I’m good for a couple thousand-“ you reach into your back pocket to fish out your wallet. “I promise, I won't ever mention this to anyone, but I just really need your help, Dabi.” The juxtaposition of your pastel purple Kuromi wallet holding thousands of dollars as payment for a villain’s services almost makes you chuckle but the lack of recognition from your companion causes you to pocket the purse.

Dabi’s stare is unamused as he chews.

“Why is this guy so important to you?” he asks around a mouthful of chocolate. “You’re willing to blow thousands on some dead guy, not to mention you’ve risked your life coming here, so why is he so special?”

Your fingers curl into a fist, nails digging into your palm before you relax and answer.

“Because he died in a really weird way, and I need to know if there was anything I could have done to prevent it.”

“That’s a stupid reason.” Dabi spits out.

A frown tugs at your mouth.

“He’s dead. Who cares how he died and whether you could stop it or not.” He continues, rolling his eyes as your pout forms. “What’s the real reason you’re looking for answers? There’s something else.”

“It’s stupid.” You mutter, suddenly embarrassed at the reasoning for your investigation.

“Ohh, it can’t be that stupid if you’ve put all this effort in.” Dabi croons. “Come on, angel. You’ve gotta tell me why if I’m gonna do all this work looking for him.”

You take in a deep breath in hopes of smothering the tears that are threatening to spill but the lump sticking in your throat has other plans.

“Because he was my best friend and I loved him and I never got to say goodbye.” You sniff, nose starting to run as the tears build. “Please.”

Dabi stares at you.

“You made these?” the question comes out of left field.

You blink at the villain, unaware as to where he is taking the conversation but answer him nonetheless.

“Yes, I did. It’s stupid I know, bringing cookies as a bargaining chip but I-“

“Your mom’s cookies are better.”  Dabi interrupts.

My what? My mom?

“What?”

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry but her cookies will always be the best.”

Your jaw slackens as you stare at the man before you.

“My mother?”

“Yes. Your mom made better cookies, and it’s not for lack of trying. Yours are really good, but they’ll never beat your mom's.”

Is he fucking with you? Is this some elaborate psychological warfare that he enacted on all his victims? Are you about to die? How does he know about your mother’s cookies?

“Aww, don’t get upset Chihiro. I'm just being honest.”

The nickname rattles your soul.

Touya.

Before you can even register that you are moving, you have crossed the space between your bodies and swung at the villain.

Your clenched fist collides with his jaw, surprising him out of his teasing. Arms wrap around your waist as you collapse against the villain. Your knees break the fall, bones scream out in pain as they slam into the concrete, and you brace for further impact but it never comes. There is a moment when you truly believe you are going to be killed, incinerated into nothing but ash for your assault but nothing happens and so you are left with no other choice but to get answers from the man under you. There is no clear choice as to why you chose violence, some primal part within you acting out of instinct. There isn’t enough time for you brain to catch up or even process that information that had been thrown at you. . In most high-pressure situations, you would retreat inwards and carefully unpack each and every detail of the occurrence like you were a kid under a Christmas tree; not a package left untouched, but you don’t have that luxury in the current moment.

Hot fat tears stream down your face as you grip Dabi’s cheeks in your hand, his skin rough beneath your fingers.

“You’ve been alive this whole time?” you cry, fingers digging into the gaunt flesh and when no answer comes you ask again, the palm of your hand connecting with his cheek in a sharp slap. “You left me to think you were dead, but you’ve been alive?”

Below you, the villain stares up in disbelief. Eyes wide at the mad woman above him, screeching like a banshee let loose. His thin shirt is scrunched tightly between your fingers, pulling the material taunt against his body. You have no control over your actions, feral and bowing to your emotions. You watch as your hand slips to his neck, pushing at the base of his throat.

Finger wraps around your wrist, pulling your weight off his windpipe and then the world shifts.

You are flipped over as easily as a leaf in the wind. Now on your back, the dust that had been kicked up from the floor sticks in your lungs and you cough as you cry.

Dabi hovers above you. Legs on either side of your hips, hands pinning yours above your head preventing you from causing any more harm to him. You try to kick, to wrench your hands from his grasp, throw him off you with your hips but nothing. You fight back against your opponent, teeth gnashing as you desperately try to find purchase on skin but he has done this too many times before to leave anything to chance. All points of access to an injury on his behalf are sealed up, held high above you and there is nothing you can do to reach.

Your cries are loud and deep and aching. Air leaves you with each heaving sob and you fear you may never breathe again. Spit and tears mix in a hot mess across your cheeks and you would wipe away the mess if not for your hands held above.

“I hate you so much.” You seethe, teeth clenched as you breathe in. “I fucking hate you.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You hear Dabi apologising over and over again.

A hand brushes over your forehead, then your cheeks, then your jaw.

“You left me.” You wail. “You left me there, all alone.”

Your chest heaves, air being gulped down as if you had been held underwater to the point of drowning and it felt like you had been. You had been held under for so many years and now you were getting a moment of air, and your brain could not process it. 

You take a few more breaths, calming the blood roaring in your ears and pounding heart and finally when your breathing returns to a semi-acceptable rhythm, do you finally acknowledge the man above you.

Dabi glides his palm along your jaw, thumb brushing over your cheekbone before resting his fingers along the side of your neck.

“I’m so sorry.”

A frown pulls at the corners of his mouth.

There is no longer a villain before you. Dabi does not exist. The boy above you is Touya. Your Touya.

You knew it. You knew it was him all along.

“Is it really you?” your voice is hoarse from crying.

“If I answer, you need to promise to keep it a secret,” he whispers, free hand curling in the ends of your hair that lay splayed out beneath you.

“Promise.” You nod and hold out your pinkie the way you did so many times as children.

Touya interlocks his pinkie with yours.

Fresh tears prick at your eyes.

“Hi, Touya,” you whisper.

“Hi.” He whispers back, hand pulling away from yours to glide over your jaw and slot into the hair at the nape of your neck. “I missed you.”

You wrap your arms around his waist and pull his body against yours in a bone-crushing hug. A laugh leaves your friend as he loops his arm around the back of your neck, holding you close. You pull back, face now centimetres from him and wait for him to make the next move. Your body follows his breaths, following his lead just the way you would follow him all those years ago. A lump forms in your throat and you know you look insane; hair mused, cheeks flushed and soaked in tears, eyes still red and crying.

Touya closes the distance, mouth hovering above yours and you think he is going to kiss you but nothing comes.

“Did you really love me?”

A sob leaves you involuntarily.

“I loved you so much, you have no idea.” The truth spills from you. “I love you so much.”

At the confession, Touya kisses you.

His mouth is soft on yours in the gentlest of kisses, almost as if he was afraid that you would fall apart if he pushed any harder. You part your lips to test the waters and when Touya follows your lead opening his mouth against yours, you grip onto the shirt bunched up around his waist. He lets you lead, lets you take control and set the pace for the first few minutes. Following your moves and pressure against your body to not push you any more than you already had been but as you whimper beneath him, his demeanour shifts.

Fingers tighten in your hair and the hand that had been holding himself up comes to rest on your waist, slipping beneath your body to pull you closer to him. Your mouth opens wider beneath his and you feel his tongue trace your bottom lip before flicking into your mouth. Menthol and chocolate fill your senses and you scramble for more, hands gripping his face as you desperately try to get your fill of him; of Touya. The steel of the staples bites into your palm but you don’t care, don’t care what form you have him in, you have your Touya back.

You’re being lifted off the floor, hoisted to sit on his lap, feeling the entirety of his body against yours.

You pull away to stare at him, not believing this is happening and that at any moment you are going to wake up or snap out of your delusion.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” Touya asks, eyes frantically searching for the reason you aren’t kissing him anymore.

Your chest constricts at his concern. The same sweet and caring boy you fell in love with all those years ago.

“I’m okay, I just-“You stroke his cheeks and he leans into your touch, inhaling a shaky breath. “I missed you so much. There was so much we didn’t get to do.”

He frowns and nuzzles further into your palm. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I don’t want you to apologise, I just want..” You can’t form the words. Can’t articulate the need within you for him. All these years you’ve held a torch for your deceased best friend. All these years you could have had him with you and now that you do, you aren’t letting go. “I just want you.”

Touya’s frown deepens. “Even now?”  His thumbs stroke circles along your clothed skin.

You know he is referring to his crimes. All the bad he has done and probably will do. You do not care. You had long ago abandoned your hope in the heroes of society, having been granted a look into the past of the now top hero. There is nothing for you in that world, nothing on offer that could sway your feelings for the man below you.

“Even now, and tomorrow and the day after that and yesterday and the day before and the month before that” You smile, knowing you weren’t making sense but none of this made sense. “I never forgot about you.”

Touya’s eyebrows knit together in an expression you don’t know and for a moment you panic; worried you had crossed a line that you didn’t know existed. You want to apologise, take back the words that had so carelessly tumbled out but his grip on your body stops you.

“I never stopped thinking about you,” he sighs, hands sliding up to press into the small of your back.

“Really?” you beam, unable to stifle the excitement that grows in you at his confession.

You are no longer an adult woman sitting in a dirty and dusty warehouse; you are fifteen and hearing your crush confess words you had been so desperately wishing to be spoken.

Your best friend’s fingers trailing over your spine pull you back to the present.

“Never for a single second,” he tests the waters and slips one hand under the hem of your shirt. “I never wanted to forget you.”

When no protest on your behalf comes, Touya slips his other hand beneath the material and begins to trace shapes into your skin.

“What did you think about?” your question is breathless, head beginning to swim as you feel heat bloom in your stomach.

Touya hums in thought, fingers beginning to climb your ribs. “Good things. Great things actually.” hands splay over the band of your bra. “some bad things but that isn’t important.”

Your thighs slip further apart at the implication; weight now fully resting atop his hips. There is no doubt that he can feel the heat from between your legs, the warmth that had begun to pool in the seam of your panties.

“Bad things?” you ask the question without knowing what kind of answer you would get. “I was nothing but nice to you, what bad things could you be thinking of?”

You feel his cock twitch at your innocence. Perfect.

Your answer comes in the form of an action. Touya leans forward and captures your mouth in a searing kiss. All teeth and tongue as his fingers pressed hard into your spine, holding you against his body as if you are a buoy and he is lost at sea. Your own hands begin to wander, sliding from where they came to rest on his neck, into the hair at the nape of his neck and as he digs his teeth into your bottom, you pull at the strands between your digits.

Touya pulls away, breathless.

“I always kept an eye on you, you know.” he pants, pushing your body away only enough to ogle you freely. “And I’ve gotta say you grew up so well.”

There are two thoughts that cross your mind in that spilt second. One: to bring up the fact he has kept you within his sighs for years, has been in the shadows of you life and how there is a part of you, not that big but enough to plant a seed of betrayal, that you can’t forgive him for that. Two: to throw caution to the wind and give into the part of you that aches for him.

The latter wins out.

“I did always think that Dabi was really handsome” you admit, an air of nonchalance in your words.

“Oh yeah? Even with all the new mods?”

“New mods?” you laugh. “Why do you make it sound like you’ve upgraded a game or something?”

Touya laughs with you.

“I’m serious,” vulnerability swims in his eyes as he looks up at you waiting for praise. “Do you really think that I’m still handsome?”

You nod and duck your head closer to his. “I still think you’re so handsome and you will always be handsome, which is really unfair.”

His lips are pressed against yours in a soft kiss. It's gentle and sweet, with no hint of the darkness lurking just below.

“Even after all these years how do you manage to make me so weak?” Touya pulls away to admire you.”You, my pretty girl, are my weakness.”

He tucks your hair behind your ears, holding your cheeks in his cupped hands and pulls you back in for a kiss and you melt into his touch at the possessive compliment.

“All these years, I never thought I’d get to talk to you again let alone touch you.” His mouth moves to your neck, pressing sloppy open-mouthed kisses against your skin. “but, fuck, have I thought about it.”

Your skin flushes at his confession.

His teeth sink into your neck, hard enough to leave a mark but not enough to break the skin.

“Thought about kissing you like this” his words are slurred.

Slick begins to pool in your panties, the seam of your jeans dampening.

“Thought about having you in my lap, just the way you are and how good you’d feel on my cock.”

Your head swims at his words.

“When I saw you again for the first time a few years ago, it took everything in me to not walk up to you and kiss you right there and then.” He bites lower, nipping at your collarbone.

Rough hands make their way under your shirt, exploring the expanse of your back.

“Thought about holding you and kissing you and taking you home.” he bites again. “God, the amount of time I’ve spent imagining you under me or spread out just for me.” Breathing becomes hard. “All for me, just for me.” He chants your name as if it were a prayer.

You grind your hips over his, feeling his cock hard and aching beneath you. Touya groans against your throat, fingers digging into your skin. Hands begin to wander downwards until they find purchase on the buttons of his pants, stopping at the metal for approval from the man beneath you and when it comes in a rushed yes, please you flick open the clasp. Your movements are awkward and nervous, having never thought this would happen and you can tell Touya is just as jittery. His fingers dip under the waistband of your pants, toying with the soft elastic of the band. Your hands follow his and pull at the material, trying to pull it down but stop at the realisation there is no way you could do this and still look seductive.

“I’m trying really hard to make this hot, but I don’t think it’s gonna work.” You admit, giggling at the absurdity.

Touya shakes his head, removing his hands from your hips to hold your face again. “I don’t want to fuck you here.” He presses a kiss to your nose.

Before you can ask, he is answering.

“I’m not gonna have the first time I fuck you be on a dirty floor in a random building.” A kiss on your right cheek.

“But what if I want that?” you retort, hand reaching down between the two of you.

His breath catches as your fingers brush against his clothed cock.

“I know you want that,” he pulls your hand away and entwines your fingers. “and you know I do too,” A kiss to your left cheek. “But I had a plan back when we were younger,” he brings your hand to his lips. “and I’ve already had so much taken from us that I’m not letting our first time be taken too.”

Your heart squeezes. He really is the same boy you fell in love with.

“So as much as we both want it, please let me do this, okay?”

You pout, a habit you had formed long ago that usually got you what you wanted from him.

“Please, baby.” The pet name is a gut punch.

 You nod and hold up your pinkie.

“You promise?”

Touya grins wider than you had ever seen and entwines his finger with yours.

“I promise.”

May 17th 2477 Touya: aged twenty-six You: aged twenty-five

-------

ᰔ a/n: NOT PROOFREAD! ohmygosh, this was a long haul. I wrote it and then rewrote it and then rewrote it and so on and so forth till I got here. tiny TINY smut cause i didn’t wanna write a whole ass thing so I might do a one shot of it later. this exhausted me holy- also shout out to billie eilish lmao her entire new album helped me write this mainly chihiro, the greatest and blue but also harry styles' as it was and madds buckley's brother

[legend-as-old-as-time]

All for the organic'd off shoot food hcs <3 i went way overboard <3 help <3

Kopaka: more curious about tastes than eager to eat, he collects them kind of like cards. Big fan of fatty meat of any kind, will devour it without even noticing. Not that big on vegetables

Pohatu: would eat cardboard if vaguely salted. Has a fondness for anything vaguely dumpling- or pie-like, and he likes offering bites to others before scarfing the whole thing down his throat

Gali: same as Pohatu, though she prefers veggies and fish and seafood and slugs and algae and bite sized fruits like grapes or berries. Shes really likes jello for some reason too

Onua: same as Pohatu and Gali but hes more of a bread and potatoes guy. Can and will carve out a pumpkin with his bare hands and eat it in one sitting if left unsupervised

Lewa: finally someone NORMAL about food!! Prefers slimy things like mushrooms and eels or juice-heavy fruit, but otherwise will try a bit of everything. Likes stuff fried or steamed

Tahu: very sensitive to consistency, too soft foods trigger his gag reflex. Likes nuts, raw veggies, insects, crayfish, lobsters, crabs, burnt stuff... Not as resistant to spices as you'd think

Jaller: the Capsaicin Conqueror, bites into ghost peppers unscathed. Soup savorer, with time will be able to whip out broths that could make Vakama Metru forgive himself

Hahli: mussels!! Oysters!! Clams!! Sea urchins!! Squids!! Octopi!! Big noodle slurper who canNOT handle sauce. She will get it Everywhere. Enjoyer of endives and hater of seasonings

Nuparu: genuinely cannot handle chewing so aside form jello everything needs to be blended into a smoothie. He slams back concoctions that would make a Makuta shiver. Taste is optional

Hewkii: could eat through the cheese caves if released within them. Hates seafood but everything else is fair game. Has tried Nuparu's horrible smoothies and survived several times

Kongu: texture is a big factor and he cant handle too slimy or too fatty things bc of this. Likes acidic or bitter flavors, sauces, dried fruit, and bugs. Refuses to eat poultry

Matoro: the concept of "doomed by the narrative" be damned my boy can hunt game and work a grill

Whenua: slurper of worms... Big fan of turnips for some reason. Its hard for him to find anything he doesnt like really

Nuju: loves poultry and butter and fish and berries and nuts... Stews... Creamy soups... God he loves eating. He could do it for hours

Vakama: vegetables and small game, cooked underground or boiled. Eats spiders by reflex for reasons you can imagine

Matau: LOVES poached eggs. Herbs n spices n fruits are his favorite. Unusual meats for him, like frogs and lizards

Nokama: will bite through any shell and bone no problem. Discovers a taste for bone marrow. Very picky with vegetables

Takanuva: if it were up to him he would eat only sweet things. lactose intolerant. Will that stop him from scarfing down gallons of cream? No babey!!!

Thank you! And thhose are neat headcanons!!

[battorlstuff]

Story: Fall of the Jock P.4

Filling his Ego

Suddenly it's as if Jace had regained his strength, fighting and throwing insults, but instead his body seemed more weakened than ever.

Those muscles that he boasted so much had deteriorated, those abs that he kept flexing in front of the mirror were no longer even visible, instead a tender roll of fat ruined the complexion of his abdomen that now protruded a little outwards. His arms looked big, but they didn't have anywhere near the same definition and his legs and butt were quite flabby now, his pecs were turning into mobs and jiggling as Jace struggled.

"This is the last video of Jace in that chair, I think I'll move him to a couch, you know he's getting quite fat, our pig will need more space"

Despite his declining physique, Jace continued to disparagingly insult the man, calling him a fat pig, but that only made things funnier for his captor who was standing in front of Jace watching him fight. He laughed as the new flab that covered his entire body wobbled at his outburst.

The man left for a moment, leaving Jace struggling in the chair, then with a squeak the man entered dragging a large standing mirror.

"Time for Jace to see what I've done to his tight body."

"What the hell have you done to me?! No, I can't be fat! My abs, I've had abs since high school...I couldn't let you do this to me...I'm disgusting"

Jace screamed and cried as he watched his once beefy pecs jiggle like tits, while he felt the heaviness in his numb legs and watched his belly grow and bury his abs.

"Well, he didn't take it so well..." a close-up of the boy's new flaccidity from every angle, the man brought the camera closer and shook his new layer of fat, twisted and played with his nipples, gave a few spanks on his butt that It looked like jelly now. On his legs his thighs were beginning to come together and finally he gave a few good pats against his new belly, that flaccid navel, far from what used to be his hard abs, looked swollen creating a small belly, and the rolls of fat were beginning to appear hiding his old six pack, needless to say, his v-line also disappeared under the layer of fat.

There was a cut and the title appeared on the screen: "His real punishment begins, week 5 238lbs"

"An old friend has a good restaurant, and Jace will try the specialty"

A huge pot was on one side of the couch, Jace had a marker lying there at the bottom, it seemed like it was hot in the room because the boy was sweating profusely and even his captor had sweaty shirt. It only gets worse when I drag Jace near the steaming pot.

"Chili with meat and beans...I ordered the leftovers, anyway, that's what pigs eat, right?" The man takes a huge ladle, dips it, and then brings it to Jace's mouth. "Come on, try it." He doesn't wait for Jace to react, instead he shoves the wooden ladle between the boy's lips and makes him swallow a handful of beans and meat.

Impatiently, the man took a funnel and began pouring the chili through it.

"oh no buddy...I won't let you stop, you don't deserve a break"

"mmmmfd..please...too much...vomit...mmmm" Jace grunted, as his stomach swelled beyond its limits, meat falling down his torso, broth accumulating between his rolls of fat, but the man continued pouring the chili for almost ten minutes.

Then, seeing that Jace might vomit, he decided to make it slow again. Even though he still didn't want to give Jace a break, he dipped the ladle into the pot and fed Jace.

He had barely finished the first bite when the spoon was in front of his mouth again. He chewed and swallowed nonstop, but the pot was still far from finished. It seemed just as full as when he started,

Jace stopped for a moment again, trying to recover a little and fighting not to vomit. There was less than half of the chili left and his captor was waiting for that pot to finish.

"Oghghh" Jace grunted as he was forced to continue eating, his captor wouldn't give him a break, the taste of the chili was disgusting, it was clear it was leftovers from days ago, Jace's stomach growled as he continued eating, he felt cramps but the man didn't stop, delighted to see Jace's stomach grow.

"FUCK! You're too slow!" shouted at him after almost half an hour Jace was halfway through the pot and it was evident that he could no longer continue, Jace was panting and with his mouth open, saliva was dripping out along with the chili.

"Maybe you need motivation huh?" the man wasted no time in starting to masturbate Jace hard, the now ex jock had gotten used to this, he didn't need more stimulation, if his stomach was full and swollen, his dick would be hard.

Jace did not react, he was barely able to moan as he released his load, that was new, Jace took several minutes to finish shooting and his captor would make sure that all of his semen fell into the pot.

The following days the routine was repeated, the pot was emptied and the man refilled it, little by little Jace lost all trace of muscles, he went from 238 lbs to 298 and now on his "last day of chili" the man helped him walking to the scale.

Jace is weak, his legs and arms atrophied from the lack of movement, stretch marks were visible on his butt and belly, and a laugh was heard when Jace reached the scale, the video ends with Jace being masturbated once again, the man pokes his belly, spanks his deformed butt, and squeezes his new mobs, Jace had reached 316 lbs, and when he sat down again, the chair broke under the weight of the now fat boy.

[one-vivid-judgment]

Hello! Stubborn patients hcs time or taking care of the boys (Sawashiro, Takabe, Ebina and Tomi) when they're sick 🤒 Thank you as always! 💕

Sawashiro AND Tomi??? Oh, hell yeah, you bet I'm gonna do it 🤧

Jo Sawashiro

Will try to hide the fact that he is sick to the very end. Even when he’s coughing up a storm, having sneezing fits every other hour, stuffy nose and teary-eyed. You will have to physically drag him to bed and force him to take a nap so he feels better. He does not feel better. In fact, he feels even worse: heavy-boned and dizzy, his throat dry, his ears itching.

He will try to insist he doesn’t need any medicine and that it’ll all go away on its own. Please, drill it through his skull that he needs it. If he sees that you are genuinely worried about his health (and, let’s be honest, he’s getting old; you are right to be worrying), he will stop and reconsider. Then, he’ll finally give in and take his medicine.

A home-cooked, warm meal is not something he’s had often. Usually, he just resorted to convenience store food or go to restaurants with Arakawa and/or his subordinates. His eating habits have gotten a lot better since he met you, honestly. Even now that he is sick and can barely taste it, he knows your food is delicious. Better than anything he could ever cook, really. If he smiles around a spoonful of chicken broth, it’s his own business.

Mamoru Takabe

Committed chairman is still committed even when he is sick. No turning off his phone, if his boys call for help, he’s going to them still. Which sadly means even the lightest of colds can easily get way worse in a matter of hours because he won’t stop pushing himself.

When he inevitably ends up having to stay in bed, he will still try to sneak some work in. You’ll have to scold him and take his phone and his laptop away so he can sleep it off. Oh, he’ll try to protest and argue that he can do some lighter tasks and paperwork, but he doesn’t sound convincing at all when a coughing fit interrupts his rant.

Once he’s gotten over the initial frustration of feeling ‘useless’ (yes, he may be sort of a workaholic when put like that), he will give the most earnest apology you’ve ever heard. He really appreciates everything you do for him—he would kiss you and thank you properly, but it’s probably not the best idea considering he is sick. Oh well, on the to-do list it goes.

Masataka Ebina

Accepts being sick surprisingly easy, considering who he is. If he doesn’t feel good, he won’t have any problems leaving the paperwork on the table and going to bed himself. He is 100% gonna call you (and maybe exaggerate how sick he actually is just a tiny bit) to take care of him though. Expect reciprocity when you are the one sick in bed, of course. You’re no less than royalty for him.

Even if he has a very sore throat, he’ll make sure to compliment your food. It’s not just mindless flattery nor is he trying to butter you up so you cook more often, it’s just how he feels, and he’ll be damned if he keeps quiet. Fuck the sore throat.

He knows it’s kind of irresponsible to kiss you when he’s sick; the virus could get you too if he does. But like... just a tiny kiss couldn’t hurt, right? It’s the least he can do to thank you for your service the whole time—honestly, he would rather get you under the covers and give you a ‘proper thanks’, but he might throw up if he pushes himself too hard. So, just a kiss will have to do. For now.

Eric Tomizawa

He is kind of a big baby when he gets sick. He can’t pretend he’s not happy to get out of work for a day or two, but also, not working means no money coming in, and considering he’s barely scrapping by as is... Yeah, it’s not ideal. You manage to soothe his anxieties away for the most part though, and that’s when he’s back to being a drama queen.

He’ll take the medicine no problem, but you bet he is going to complain all the time about how bitter it is. Why can’t adult medicine taste sweet like kids’ medicine, huh? The warm soup is very good though—he is a man of simple tastes, some chicken noodle soup and you’ll have him pretty much purring.

He also has no problem with sleeping in. Considering he hates getting out of bed in the morning, every excuse that allows him to laze around in bed for longer that usual is welcome. He’ll even try to convince you to cuddle with him. “Just for a bit,” he says, “you won’t get sick if it’s only for a bit!” he says. He makes a very convincing case.

[cartooncartoonpanic]

#004 On the brink

(CW: Medical trauma, mentions of child test subjects and amputations)

You ask Blossom if she's still a superhero, and this, at least, she seems excited to talk about.

"Well...crime's kind of slowed down in the past few years. Obviously we haven't been fighting you. Mojo got taken to a facility outside of the city I think. Him got kind of bored since we aren't as scared anymore-"

"Yeah, too bored to be a parent" You interrupt, understandably bitter that the man who brought you back to life never checked up on you in the past few years.

"I'm sorry-"

"Don't... You don't have to apologize for what HE did. Keep going. "

"Well...I think Sedusa got a modelling contract or something? Someone in the Gangreen gang joined a popular band I think and they all went for a tour, Fuzzy invested in some ear plugs and doesn't really care about what goes on in Townsville, and the Ameboa boys...well they're still at it I guess. So yeah...we don't really go out as a team anymore like that" That last part did sound a bit sad.

"That's really all the big criminals in Townsville?" You could have sworn there was another one who he had met before

"Oh right, Princess...that's an entire situation" She whispered and tried to hint with her eyes at someone else in the room.

"She's not a criminal anymore but...she's still sort of our enemy. Or at least making Bubbles' life harder..." Sure enough a girl in a suit with gold trim and a crown hair clip was looking at both of you. Was that Princess? Did she know you were talking about her?

"Do you do any fighting?" You change the subject back, agreeing that it's probably for the best not to get into any drama.

"To be honest...I'm kind of a soloist these days. I don't know if thats the term...but Bubbles has her veterenarian internship and Buttercup has a pretty intense training schedule so usually I'm the one who takes on any new villains who pop up. Aside from this mech robot guy though, most of them don't come back. The process is a bit different though. Since its just me most of the time, I wear a costume and use a cool nickname. It's a secret though" She seemed to be having a lot of fun.

You wonder briefly, if you were a hero with a secret identity, and did all of the things that the girls did, would people praise you? Give you the benefit of the doubt? Stop treating you like a dangerous criminal? Was it possible for you, of all people, to be good? But you don't vocalize these thoughts. Especially not to her. And definitely not now of all times.

You ask Blossom if she knows anybody else here, aside from the obvious she and her siblings, you and your siblings, and princess.

"Hmmm...I think so. Some of them I only know from tv but if you mean personally...The guy with the striped shirt is one of Buttercups workout partners...I remember his name also starts with a B but I don't know what it is. And then that guy with the white hair is Edd.

Apparently his two best friends are named that too. I know, confusing... They seem exhausting to be around when they're all together but Edd's pretty nice when it's just us. We were in chess club together. The girl with the ballet shoes the really tall blonde one, her name is Deedee, and she was a big fan of my sisters and I when she was younger so we got asked to come to her birthday party as special guests and our parents got along enough that we went over to their house pretty often. And then there's her brother~" She dreamily sighed before covering her mouth, embarassed.

So she had a crush. For some reason the thought bothered you a lot. Maybe it was because you wished she spoke about you that way. Maybe it's because the fact that she's able to be comfortable enough with someone to fall in love is more proof that she got to live a happy normal life, while you didn't. Is there anything that's fair?

"I wonder why all of these people are here though. Do you know any of them?"

You look around. Aside from the obvious of the powerpuff girls, your own brothers, and princess, nobody seems like someone you've seen before. Except...there's a guy with black hair in what seems to be goggles and a cape. Even among villains people would think this guy is trying to hard and this is coming from the kid of a monkey who wore a turban. You could have sworn you recognized that face. you don't remember where you saw him, but just looking at him makes you tense.

Wait. He recognizes you too.

And he's coming towards you.

A flood of memories come back to you and leave you paralyzed at the same time. The sterile white walls. The injections. The blood samples. The sedatives.

The invasive examinations. The terrifying people in lab coats. The repeated talk about how this is all you would be good for.

The amputation.

YOU'RE CERTAIN THIS IS THE MAN WHO RUINED YOUR LIFE

Your panic becomes rage as everything around you tunes out. There is no hotel dining room. There are no other people. It's you and the evil scientist. He's speaking but you can barely hear him over everything racing through your head. Even now he doesn't have a sense of boundaries. He seems to be trying to pull your jacket off of your body, saying something about not believing they went through with it. At first you dont know what he's doing until he grabs your arm. Or rather...your metal prosthetic arm.

[kitkatcadillac]

god the chicken soup i make is so good when im not feeling well even though its kind of a pain in the ass to make. godsend for being sick or having shark week though, so here;

i share. im a little lazy with it; i use the stove top method, i cook the rice separately but store the soup and rice combined because of space constraints and it doesnt bother me,

and most importantly. i dont cook the chicken all the way through IN the soup; i go and get a fuckin. rotisserie precooked from the grocers... i shred that bad boy ahead of time by hand, and i keep all the Big Bones that are Easy To Not Accidentally Swallow and cook them in and remove them later... keep the skin and cook it tbh even if you dont eat it its all got stuff in there thats gonna be mmmmMMM

i also dont use celery because im allergic fjsjd but thats not a big deal. i just add a few more carrots or a little more onion and its yummy just fine. pre minced garlic is also good

im almost entirely posting this only because while the overall Soup was too hot still for me to eat i got some bread to dip into the broth and went straight to heaven. if you use this recipe i hope you love it too

[salvadoerena]

5 & 26 ✨

5. favorite form of potato?

DANG.....it's a tie between mashed or denny's big slam hashed. okay happy compromise: latke.

26. how's your spice tolerance?

better than it used to be!! i used to be a big ol baby when it came to--hang on. my dog is lying down funky.

he does this thing where he likes to stick ONE (1) foot on the bed. what a funky boy.

But yeah I used to be a big ol baby when it came to spicy things, but it's gotten a lot bettter!! in fact if given the option, i now actively CHOOSE to have a lil bit of a kick.......i'd say i'm at happy "medium" spicy. like the regular samyang spicy noodles are too much, but the jjajagmen flavor is still spicy, but edible!!

I, personally, can track down my sudden increase in spice tolerance to one Godforsaken Day in university, where I had thought to myself, "Gee, @miscbeary and our roommates work very hard! I shall surprise them with a hearty stew from my ancestors. A concoction of tomatoes, spices, cheese...and tortillas." I gathered my ingredients, studied my recipe, and proceeded to do everything as told to me by AllRecipes dot com.

However...even though I had already imbued my brew with two poblano peppers and the blended remains of one habanero, I thought to myself: Is this enough? My compatriots are no stranger to the devil's tongue---perhaps I should just add one more. Alors, I proceeded to adding another dried habanero pepper into my cauldron so that it may steep and leech its capsaicin spice into the broth. Once I had deemed it ready, I took to the spoon and tasted our soon-to-be dinner and found it...lacking. Of course, it had a wonderful flavor to it, and for such an unrefined pallet such as my own, I thought it quite hot on the tongue, yet, still I deliberated. Was it hot enough? Perhaps just one more habanero...

Thus, that blasphemous bowl of tortilla soup, the very thing I had crafted with love for my comrades, to nourish them, to sustain them, instead vanquished them! Lo! One by one they fell to the power of two poblanos, three habaneros, and no milk! We resorted to a bastard concoction of one half bowl soup, one half bowl yogurt, cheese, cream, milk, or other such dairy products, yet still to wash them down with a glass of milk! It was a horrible, horrible day where God looked down upon us and yet turned his back on my hubris.

So yeah I think that changed my spice tolerance level p wildly.

[lucidrims]

            "  of  course  !  i  think  with  having  you  teach  me  the  games,  i'll  be  a  pro  in  no  time.  my  little  brothers  always  try  to  teach  me  the  games  they  play,  but  they're  not  pros  .  .  so  it  always  ends  up  being  a  mess  and  i  never  get  anything  they're  saying.  it's  just  three  young  boys  shouting  instructions  at  you.  "  yoora  shares  a  tidbit  about  her  big  family,  having  many  siblings  definitely  had  its  perks.  sitting  in  front  of  the  table  set-up,  and  waiting  for  woojin  to  join  her  before  she  starts  serving  the  food  -  scooping  the  soup  broth  and  chicken  pieces  into  each  of  their  bowls,  smile  wide  as  she  was  happy  with  how  the  food  turned  out.  "  maybe  i  will  get  addicted  to  some  of  the  games.  i  see  it  happening  .  .  then  i'll  be  messaging  you  at  night  asking  if  you  want  to  play  with  me.  are  you  going  to  be  fine  with  that  ?  "  being  a  host  of  a  cooking  show  such  as  this,  yoora  knew  how  important  it  was  to  not  only  have  a  great  guest  who  you  can  have  a  free-flowing  conversation  with,  but  it  was  an  added  plus  that  the  two  of  them  had  chemistry  -  so  much  so  that  nothing  felt  scripted.  "  yes,  let  me  know  what  you  think  of  the  beer  !  hopefully,  you  say  nothing  but  good  things  though  .  .  they're  probably  going  to  watch  this.  "  she  jokes  around  while  snickering  behind  her  hand,  taking  a  sip  of  the  soup  and  letting  out  a  loud,  delighted  hum,  "  wah,  this  turned  out  great  !  look  at  you  go  woojin-ssi,  you're  a  certified  chef  now.  "  not  one  to  skimp  on  compliments,  she  even  gives  him  a  thumbs  up,  "  are  you  sure  you're  not  going  to  come  for  my  job  or  anything  ?  heh.  "

      the  idea  of  her  participating  in  one  of  his  streams,  his  mind  already  started  flowing  with  possible  games  that  could  be  suitable  for  a  first  time  player  but,  also  what  would  cause  the  best  content  creation.  not  just  for  him,  but  for  her  youtube  channel  as  well,  it  would  probably  draw  a  lot  of  her  viewership  over  to  his  channel  but,  this  whole  collaboration  would  most  likely  expand  both  their  supportive  fanbase.   "  would  you  actually  be  up  for  that  ?  "   it's  like  there's  christmas  lights  sparkling  in  both  his  eyes,  finding  the  idea  too  fun  to  ever  neglect.   "  you'll  always  be  welcome  on  there  ...  maybe  you  could  try  a  row  of  my  favorite  games  ?  might  get  you  hooked  on  some  of  them.  "   woojin  mentally  making  note  of  a  few  games,  that'd  seem  to  be  right  up  yoora's  alley.  with  her  words  on  where  to  find  the  utensils,  he  held  out  hands  for  the  plates  which  he  first  set  up  on  the  table,  before  going  to  the  cupboard  and  finding  chopsticks  and  a  spoon  for  the  two  of  them,  humming.   "  all  set.  "   at  the  reveal  of  her  endorsing  a  beer  brand,  lips  part  in  an   '  o  '   shape  and  he  feels  slightly  jealous.  however,  his  content  was  for  minors  too  sometimes  so,  alcohol  wasn't  really  the  best  to  be  promoting  on  his  platform.   "  definitely  would  be  a  shame  !  well,  i  will  be  taking  that  then.  "   reaching  for  the  two  beer  cans  in  the  fridge  and  then  looking  for  two  glasses  to  make  the  finishing  touch  to  the  dining  table.   "  i'm  hungry  now,  the  scent  is  too  good  to  resist.  "

[daydreambts]

Seokjin opened seiyas can of pop and handed it to him and smirked at you as you fluttered your eyelashes pouring wine for the two of you pecking your lips as he does. “Anything for mama.” He says chuckling. “Your mamas right seiya your such a good boy. You look after your mama and papa don’t you ?” He says chuckling as he eats his ramen eventually placing his bowl down with how full he’s becoming placing an arm around both you and seiya. He kisses the top of seiyas head and smiles. Enjoying being able to do things like this with you both. He sips at his wine as you all watch the movie leaning over and placing it back on the table his arm moving from around your shoulder to sit on your thigh. He was glad that everything went to well today with his parents and that they were so calm about everything. He chuckles as he sees seiyas eyes getting heavy gently removing his empty ramen bowl and placing it on the table pulling him into him a little “I’ll take him up to his bed soon.. he’s had a big day today” he says with a smile looking at the sleepy boy. - Seokjin rose anon 🌹

•━»•»🌸«•«━━━━━━━━•••

I pecked Seokjin in turn and took a sip of the wine, liking how it was a refreshing contrast to the richness of the ramen. Full with noodles, broth, and the gyoza, I tidied our bowls and containers, then settled against Seokjin, my hand reaching across to caress Seiya's hair. As the movie neared the ending, Seiya was getting sleepy. I smiled at Seokjin. "Remember to brush his teeth even though he's sleepy," I whispered. "Seiya's not sleepy," Seiya mumbled, but his eyes were already shut. "He's going to pout about missing the movie tomorrow," I giggled, settling back against Seokjin until the movie ended. I gave him a soft kiss. "Why don't you bring Seiya to his room, and I wait for you in our bed. I promised to do something very nice for you after all~" I winked at him and went ahead to our room. Stripping off my clothes, I slipped on a set of deep red, lacy lingerie with a matching sheer robe, and shook out my hair from its braid, letting it fall in loose waves.

[lieutenantbiscute]

25 yr old TMNT ‘12 Brothers HC’s

(These headcanon’s can also apply to the Shell Shocked au)

• Mikey is the most unintentional heartbreaker when he gets older. He’s sweet, he knows how to cook, he’s got a big heart and a bright spirit and smile to match! But can he read romantic advances? Nope! Half the time his brothers don’t know how he dated when they were younger.

• Its a funny joke that Leo can’t cook, but I like to think he actually can. His main focus, along with Mikey’s help, is Japanese cuisine. He loves making soups and broths. Takoyaki is a favorite of his recently and has become a bit of a comfort food. Miso soup is something he makes for him and his brothers after missions as a good pick me up.

• Raphael is through and through an animal person. He has a small problem with bringing home stray cats, especially during kitten season. Donnie had to intervene after he brought home a mom and her litter of 8 kittens. He secretly helps local TNR organizations by anonymously dropping off food and supplies when he can.

• Donnie, April, and Casey all share a close friendship later down the line. After all the love drama they all just decided to take a step back and focus on themselves. They find that they work better as more friends than anything. April drills Donnie on getting enough sleep, Donnie bugs Casey about the scrapes he gets when he and Raph go on night patrols, Casey bugs them both about trying and such. Making sure they eat and rest before anything.

• the boys definitely play Cards against Humanity. Leo wasn’t up for it at first but later on reveled in the games answers. The others keep it up just to have Leo laugh every once and a while.

• Mikey asks Donnie to help build (steal) a gaming station for him to play on. Leo often sits with Mikey to watch him play and help him with some trickier puzzles.

• Night Watcher originally was a way for Raph to blow off steam after everything was said and done show wise to help blow off steam away from his brothers when they weren’t on patrols. Nowadays Raph is one of the only ones who does constant patrols as Night Watcher.

• Leo is a bit of a shut in. Donnie has made the suggestion to open up a dojo, teach a new generation of ninja and Leo has thought about it but he feels as though he isn’t ready. Opening a dojo means coming to terms with everything that’s happened to him and his brothers. He isn’t ready to face that noise just yet.

• Donnie is also a shut it but that’s just due to his inventions and how often he’s off world with the Utrom. Whenever he gets back he usually sleeps majority of his time or tinkers.

• Leo sleeps under a weighted, insulated cover. Helps him sleep easier and deeper. Also keeps his knee from smarting if the temp drops in the lair.

[supersaiyanjisoo]

"There's no shame in crying. I promise." (Cheelai to Broly) All the fluff, with some angst. Please??

Anon, I'm so sorry, you waited more than two months for this... I really have no excuse. I hope you will be able to enjoy this still, and thank you for your request and patience!

-

Wet Towels, Broth and Trust

Rating: G

Warnings: Sickfic/Sick character, Light Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Also on AO3!

-

“Mmh. Cheelai was right. Your temperature is quite high.”

Lemo let out a sigh, shaking the little device he stuck into Broly’s mouth minutes prior– which was apparently called a thermometer.

Broly frowned. “But– what does it mean?”

“It means you’ve got a fever. That you’re sick.”

The word reverberated within his skull a few times. He ended up nodding absentmindedly as Lemo disinfected the thermometer with a wipe. By the side of the bed, Cheelai gave him a bit of a conflicted look, torn between worry and uplifting, her fists clenched upon her knees despite the smile she displayed. 

“So, even big guys like you can get sick?” She teased to light up the atmosphere. 

Broly’s forehead met the foreign feeling of a wet towel as Cheelai gently applied it on. Though it wasn’t unpleasant, the Saiyan did not know how to react in any other way than to look awkwardly at his hands on the blanket in which he was wrapped in like a child. 

To be honest, if it wasn’t for the little woman, he certainly would have never noticed something was wrong with him in the first place. 

Ever since leaving Vampa for the second time, which hadn’t been without troubles, he felt a restless feeling stirring in him every now and then. But, wasn’t it to be expected? It would be a lie to say the first time he left the hostile planet did not bring its share of misfortunes.

On the day of departure, he thought himself to be ready; yet he found his breath short, his heart throbbing in his throat and cold sweats trickling down his temples. But then, making him open his eyes abruptly, a warmth spread across the back of his trembling hand. On top of it was Cheelai’s. She shot a confident smile, yes, one that was… What was the word?

Friendly. Reassuring. Comforting.

“Trust me. This time, it’ll be alright.”

So he believed it would be. 

However, as days spent between space travels and stopovers for food supplies or secondary duties went on, Broly still couldn't shake that feeling of unease that had penetrated his body. He felt like freezing in place, only to burn hot in his clothes a second later. Yet he endured it in silence, for he was so unfamiliar with the concept of expressing his emotions, as his father used to read him like an open book.

Cheelai was the one to step towards him in that moment, again. She always did.

“Hey, how you’ve been doing up there, big guy?” She slightly grinned at him. “You’ve kinda seemed under the weather lately.”

Broly blinked twice at the question. “There’s no weather in space.” he said, pointing a porthole aside that showed nothing but the infinity of space.

Cheelai could not help but laugh, and he did not get what was so funny about what he said in the first place.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy?” She gestured to him to bend down to her. “Come down here, I want to check something.”

He had no reason to refuse, and did as asked, but when Cheelai abruptly closed the distance between their heads, he stepped back dramatically.

“Why are you trying to hit me?!”

“Wha– I’m not trying to headbutt you, dummy!” She put her fists on her hips. “Would that even hurt you anyway?”

Broly gave a hesitant look, pretty much unconvinced, came down again nonetheless and let her connect her forehead to his. Surprisingly, hers was much cooler than his. The turmoil in him somewhat subsided to that soothing impression spreading.

But, before he could dwell in the sensation enough to enjoy it, she backed off, drawing a groan from him.

“That’s what I thought! Leftovers at lunch, and now you’re burning like a furnace! Lemo, get the health kit, Broly isn’t feeling well!”

Not feeling well?

He barely had the time to realize what she had said: he was guided to bed by his two friends, overwhelmed with attention in such a way it made him feel kind of awkward. Not to help, the moment Cheelai had stated that he wasn’t feeling well, the heat muted, becoming more tangible than ever and starting to toast his brain. His body could seemingly not decide between hot and cold, and so heavy sweat drops were only rivaled by mad shivers climbing his spine like frost spiders. Yes, he was… Sick. 

Lemo shrugged. “Well, I can’t say it wasn't to be expected. Now that we’ve left Vampa, your body must adapt to a lot of new environments, and among them come bacteria and viruses it has never encountered before. Besides, there may still be traces of your fight on Earth… You’re still recovering, though it may not look like it. It’s quite normal that your immune defenses would be weakened.”

Weakened… 

“Tch!” Cheelai huffed as she folded her arms, frankly annoyed. “And Goku said that junk he gave us only works on injuries, didn’t he? Geez… What do you think, Lemo?” She turned to her friend. “Wouldn’t it be safer to take him to a doctor?”

He thought out loud, scratching his chin. “Mmh, I’d like to avoid that if possible. A Saiyan never goes unnoticed nowadays and if it tumbles into the Freeza army’s ears, they could see a perfect opportunity to seize and attack us. I doubt Broly would even be in a state to defend himself properly… We’d be an easy target more than anything if taken by surprise.”

Broly’s fists tightened.  Sick. Weakened. An easy target…

Each word said put an heavier weight on his sternum, and confused him much more than the fever itself. Their echo within… It brought his voice, father’s voice, to resurface in his feverish brain. 

Crying is for weaklings, Broly. You should be ashamed of yourself…

Ashamed… Shame. Yes, that was it.

Right now, he was feeling ashamed of being nothing but a dead weight. Of what use was he if in no measure to defend his friends? Even in health, he could not have saved his own father…

A morbid shadow passed on his face.

Lemo pursued. “Of course, if his state worsens, we’ll have no choice but bring him to a doc. Just seems wiser to wait and watch for now”, he concluded, nodding to himself. 

Cheelai agreed and gently tapped the Saiyan’s shoulder. “I’m sure Broly is plenty capable of kicking a virus’ butt in no time! Isn’t that right?!”

The call of his name and contact pulled Broly out of his thoughts. He couldn’t bring himself to share her enthusiasm, but agreed out of habit.

“Yeah... What’s a doctor?” He asked plainly, finally realizing he never heard that word before. 

He could see the complete surprise in both his companion’s eyes. It was not the first time one of his questions provoked such a reaction, and though Cheelai did her best to retain herself from saying insensitive words, there had been numerous times where she could not help but exclaim: really, you don’t know what that is?!

Each and every time, it hit him a little more. How little he knew about the world...

“A doctor is a person that specializes in curing people that have diseases or injuries”, Cheelai started to explain. “They give you stuff you have to eat to feel better, like pills, or open your body to fix what’s wrong with it –hey, don’t give me that frightened look! It doesn’t hurt one bit, they make you inhale a gas that makes your body all numb beforehand! And they only do that to the poorest people, now… Healing capsules have become super sophisticated.”

“Right, medecine is practically automated these days… And if someone hadn’t spent a quarter of our money on clothes, we could have even got an automatic diagnosis device”, Lemo added, the tone in his voice leaving little doubt as to who that someone could be. 

“Hey!! You spent as much as me, as long as I remember! Sorry I didn’t want me or Broly to rot in those uniforms forever, unlike others!”

“...So you don’t have to worry, Broly”, the other continued, ignoring Cheelai as she stuck her tongue out at him. “The absolute worst you could get is a medicine that tastes like sand, or a shot.”

“A… shot?” Broly arched an eyebrow.

“Yep! They put the cure into a syringe, and inject it into your veins using a needle.”

Broly’s eyes popped open at the mental image of a needle plunging into his arm– for if he did not know what a doctor or a syringe were, the vision of Vampa’s beetles and their hooked tongue remained very vivid in his mind. He backed up towards Cheelai, a very faint whimper escaping his lips, as if Lemo was the one on the point of stabbing him with that Hell-bound needle. 

The girl chuckled as she spared him a pat on his back.

“You’ll be alright, Broly! With plenty of rest, you’ll escape the needle just fine!”

As if fate indulged in contradicting her, his lungs and throat started itching and he began coughing. Her hand went up and down his back, a sympathetic pout on her face.

“Maybe some syrup would help?” She suggested, but as soon as she grabbed the bottle amongst the medical kit’s mess and opened it, Broly snatched it out of her hand and swallowed its whole content in bare seconds. Not a single drop was left.

She gasped. “Broly! That could have been dangerous if it hadn’t just been syrup!”

His itching somewhat fading, Broly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “It’s fine. Until now, everything you gave me was good.”

Cheelai’s little mouth formed an ‘o’ of surprise before she turned away from him, muttering a flushed “Still!”.

“Anyway, shouldn’t you back up a bit, Cheelai?” Lemo interrupted. He had been careful staying afar from Broly’s bed ever since the conversation started. “This could be contagious, as much as we know.”

She scrunched up her face. “Naaah, it’s fine. I got pretty much everything as a kid. Heck, almost thought I'd been done for twice, but I'm still here! My body’s defenses are used to the deal. I haven’t been ill in years now."

The old man tried to convince her still, with little success. She remained by Broly’s side all while arguing. Meanwhile, her unfortunate patient watched her very intently. 

“Mmh? What is it?” She asked when she finally noticed.

“Cheelai… You must be incredibly strong to have survived this so many times…!”

His eyes were sparkling with admiration –if Broly had sometimes been too weak to move, pinned to the ground of a cavern because of either Vampa’s rough life conditions, the exhaustion of training or the stabbing pain of a new wound that was deep enough to leave another scar on his body, it was pretty much the first time he was… sick. It was still new to him, but one thing was for sure: it was not enjoyable. At all. 

To win a fight by resting –kicking the virus’ butt, as Cheelai said– and be patient seemed more than oxymoronic to his Saiyan nature. He only knew of himself strong and thriving –and yet, he was now rendered powerless. 

Therefore, imagining Cheelai, Cheelai who was so very small and fragile like a porcelain figure compared to him, defeating again and again what put him in such difficulties right now… That impressed him. It truly did.

Meeting his boyish gaze, Cheelai snorted, a proud blush and grin animating her traits. She passed her finger under nose, a hand on her hip. “Well… I guess I am pretty tough, yeah!”

“Please don’t flatter her ego like that, Broly”, Lemo sneaked in. “I don’t want the ship to deviate because of that infatuated head of hers.”

Broly let out a little smile, but instantly stopped when Cheelai puffed in disdain as she adjusted the covers upon his shoulders and straightened them with her palm. 

That gesture…

“Sorry, Lemo. We don’t talk to cowards who’re scared of a little flu.”

“When did I say I was scared?”

“Well, why don’t you come and help change Broly’s towel, then? It’s already dry.”

Lemo gulped. “Eer… I-I think I’ll let you handle it this once! You’re closer to the basin, anyway!”

Cheelai let out a mischievous giggle of triumph. “Hey, Broly–”

The end of her sentence was lost in the air. Smothered under soft covers, Ba’s ear lying above them all, and his head on several pillows, Broly was fast asleep. Though he wanted to laugh along with his friends, Cheelai’s simple gesture –her hand smothering the end of the cover, again and again–, had taken him back to the times his father had done the same in his childhood. Fluctuating in his imagination, the hazy memory sometimes reminded him the warmth of Ba’s ear he let himself entirely drown in, only to show his father’s cape the second after, reminiscing even before his friendship with the giant animal. 

In the end, he could not pinpoint it exactly, the times that happened, yet he remembered it, the soft pressure of that gigantic, rough hand stroking his hair, giving him a sense of security, and… One would probably call it love. 

Slumber had hit him before anyone could react, and as Broly and Cheelai turned down the lights and left the room, nothing but gentle smiles hovered over their face. 

“I’m sorry, did I wake you up?”

~

The lights of the corridor behind Cheelai made her shadow stretch from the entrance to the feet of Broly’s bed, her small voice distracting him from his initial contemplation of the void of space through the room’s porthole.

“No, I woke up earlier.”

“Yes, but you’re resting, I mean…”

“...Not really.”

“...What are you doing in the dark, then?”

“I can’t light the room.”

“Huh? You forgot how to do it? You gotta clap your hands, remember?”

“I know that, but I can’t.”

“...Why?”

“When I tried with Lemo, it exploded.”

“...Oh, so that was why he insisted on buying two whole sets of lightbulbs… Erm- try doing it again, very slowly?...”

Broly looked at his palms with what little luminosity came from the corridor, a bit uneasy. He clapped as calmly as he could manage, and yet the sound was deafening enough for the lights to go full power and blind him. Thankfully, his eyes quickly accommodated themselves, and Cheelai’s figure, still in the entrance, greeted him with a smile.

She congratulated him with a flash of her ‘thank you’ gesture, to which he responded… almost perfectly. “See? You did just fine! Phew... I’m sure Lemo exaggerated your condition, he always does. So, got enough of an appetite to care for dinner?”

While talking, she pulled in a trolley on which a huge pot, large enough to feed a whole regiment of soldiers, was standing in a precarious balance. Cheelai had come to know that what she thought was enough to keep her stuffed and satiated for one week was merely an appetizer in Saiyan terms. Really, out of all her years spent meandering in space here and there, they had to be one of the most glutton species she ever encountered.

“I have to warn you though, it’s just broth. It ain’t good to eat greasy stuff in your state.”

Broly sat up straight on his bed and nodded energetically. Ah. Not surprised. Food was still food!

Carefully, Cheelai pushed the trolley further inside, and took an ample bowl which she started to fill after positioning herself on the stool nearing the bed. 

“Where is Lemo?” Broly asked as he peered at the open door, expecting to see him appear anytime.

“Fella fell asleep on the job. Good thing autopilot mode got our back, isn’t it? Ah, wait–!”

The instant she had just finished filling the bowl, Broly tried to snitch it away of her hands along the large spoon she held –sick this, sick that, regardless of it his stomach was still rumbling!-, but before he could, Cheelai both backed up and put a foot on his torso to keep him away, all in one movement. 

“Oh no, you don’t!” She groaned in her awkward, nearly-acrobatic posture. “I know you, you’ll gulp everything down before I even get the chance to say anything! You back up, sir! Shoo, shoo!”

Broly frowned, but ended up doing as advertised. Cheelai sighed, just glad she hadn’t spilled the burning hot broth on any of them. 

“You’ve got to take it slow! How can you even savor your meal if you throw yourself at it?! Oh, wait, I know…”

The Saiyan blinked twice as the little woman got up her stool, put one knee on the mattress. Before she proceeded further, she looked up to him with her almond-shaped, smiley eyes, and asked him in a kind voice: “Allow me?”

Broly hadn’t the merest idea of what she wanted him to allow her for. With the fever still messing and flaring his mind, all thoughts went blank when addressed him with such a soft, gentle gaze. 

It was so… She was so…

Without really realizing it, he acquiesced, but it was just his silly squeezing heart’s fault, making him feel weird, and nothing else. 

Cheelai helped herself to the bed, and presented to his lips a soup-full spoon with a happy smile. “Come on!”

The gesture still confused him. With quite a bit of difficulty, he had finally learned how to get ahold of both cutlery and chopsticks alongside his two little friends –but how was he supposed to take the spoon without splattering the bed with broth?

“Don’t bother”, Cheelai said when he went in to pick up the spoon. “Today, you can just eat and not worry about the rest. I’ll be your nurse, I guess– so let me take care of you! You better enjoy it, because I won’t do it everyday!”

Her laughters had always been somewhat contagious, but Broly could only address her a shy and clumsy smile as he took the spoon in his mouth. Then another, and another, Cheelai drawing the warm broth from the bowl, then the pot. 

If it wasn’t for the vacuum of space and the regular, soft puffs of air Cheelai blew upon the hot liquid, there would be no sounds around them, leaving them in a little bubble of their own. Somehow, each sip he swallowed reminded Broly a bit more of the first time he met her. Oh, for sure, the taste of a chocolate bar and a broth were nowhere near alike, but, in all truth, so were the feelings that agitated him then and now. 

He remembered her taking the time to open the packaging, and in that split second of waiting, his stare drifted from the offered food to her face as she turned back to him.

What weird eyes… He wondered, meeting her flamboyant irises, then didn’t give anymore thoughts after she shook the snack.

‘Weird’ was the best word he could come up with to describe what sensation these eyes ignited in him. It made him slightly curious. He had never seen such a vivid color before. All colors Vampa ever offered to the eye were nuances of green and dusty orange, after all. 

Yet, what was originally nothing but an object of curiosity became associated with other words over time, and other feelings, which fever only seemed to tremendously exacerbate. 

Broly was hence once again disobeying and, instead of enjoying his long-awaited dinner, he kept glancing at Cheelai. At her eyes mostly, of course, but neither were the pearl-like hue of her white hair, the softness of her traits and jaw, or the grace of her ungloved hands spared by his stare. He kept looking so long that what was meant to be the slowest meal of his life seemed to pass way too fast. 

He didn't know a person could be so pleasing to the eye, before.

He had come to appreciate Ba's scary figure with time, and associate it with joy then happy and bittersweet memories, but he certainly couldn't fool himself into thinking the beast crimson-blood eyes weren't terrifying.

But Cheelai? Cheelai had always been pretty.

The prettiest... Beautiful.

“Here we go!” She exclaimed when there was nothing left in the pot but thin leftovers of minced vegetables. “Was it that hard?”

He shook his head. Gently, she then raised her arm to wipe some oil in the corner of his lips. Even then, he couldn’t detach his gaze from her, and he felt the heat on his face intensify as she unintentionally grazed his cheek. 

“Mmh.” She emitted with a frown. “Your face is still hot.. I’ll refresh your towel, alright?”

As abruptly as it came, the warmth let him as Cheelai slipped off the bed, took his dry towel and went to the basin. Unknowingly followed by Broly’s eyes.

How dismaying it was to be… taken care of. 

“Here you go”, Cheelai hummed, applying the fresh towel on his sweaty forehead. 

Her hand met his cheek again, sending another shiver. This time, he instinctively jerked out of her way, startling her. A sudden troubled look passed on her face as he now avoided her eyes. 

He did not know if he liked it. Being taken care of.

He enjoyed company. He enjoyed resting to a certain extent –a rest that felt like the first ever in his life, a rest that wasn’t plagued by the anxiety of survival, loss of control, the pain of electrocution. He enjoyed the warmth –the good kind of warmth– Cheelai spread so easily in his chest with a single touch of her magic fingers, contrasting with the raging fever that came from within.

And yet, each time he thought it was enjoyable, the image of Father and his own powerlessness flashed in him. Making him feel miserable.

Father then, and now them…

He realized it now. All he was good at was being taken care of. Even if it was in his own way, Father did take care of him. He taught him how to talk. How to survive. 

The sole memory of that soft gesture on his chest that would always distill tranquility within him, was enough of a proof for his care.

It did not matter if the sweet touch of warmth and security was replaced with the cold tightness of a collar. It did not.

It was still care. He repeated it to himself. Father took care of him.

...And yet he had failed him as a son.

Broly... Broly was no good to anyone. No good to Father. No good to Ba, either. He was no good to anyone –and now, in this pathetic state where Cheelai wouldn’t let him feed himself, he couldn’t even protect those who had saved his life and had come to… take care of him, whether they admitted it or not, in Father’s stead. 

“Hey, what’s with the long face suddenly?” Cheelai called him back to reality. 

He considered pretending his fever was simply bothering him, but, no matter how hard he tried, he never managed to resort to lying. Only closing himself off in silence. 

Nevertheless, emotions suddenly rolled on his tongue with such fluidity it astonished even himself. To leave the comfort of silence so easily… Surely, his fever was no stranger to this. The words blended in his mind and mouth, coming out only half-thought. 

“I’m sorry… For putting you in danger… Not being able to… Protect you and Lemo right now…”

For all response, Cheelai smiled.

“Ah! What danger? Freeza may have eyes everywhere with his minions, but I know for sure he doesn’t know the big Saiyan is pinned down to his bed! Besides, even if we end up having to get you to a clinic and get spotted, I’d rather much take the risk than letting your condition worsen here. We’re ex-Freeza Army soldiers, remember? Okay, sure I wasn’t one for a long time, but it still counts. Fear was pretty much the usual for us. Hell, a little before we found you and your father on Vampa, I was bad mouthing that sucker and, well, when we accompanied you to his room in the ship, I felt like I was gonna piss my pants remembering what I said! Scooters are treacherous little bastards, you know. And yet I’m still here, with you and Lemo, aren't I? Sick or not, I know I'm much safer with you right than any second I passed in that damn army. We're a team! We'll manage our way out somehow, I'm positive!"

She had obviously thrown that fit of blabbers and giggles to distract him from his sudden gloom, but it didn’t remotely uplift his mood. He remained immobile, his eyes downcast. 

“Still… Without my strength… Or even without… I’m not any good. If I wasn’t born like his… Even my father… Probably wouldn’t have come for me...”

As he talked, tears formed in the corner of his eye without him even realizing. Somehow, all of it had flown out of his control, in a way he poorly experienced before –blurring his vision, then dripping down his face, the teardrops falling upon Ba’s thick fur. They were small, quiet tears. 

The brutal squeal of the stool’s feet rubbing the floor made him cringe. 

Her cheeks flushed and her fists tightened alongside her thighs, Cheelai made her steps heavy on the floor as she began to adjust Broly’s pillows, a bit rougher than what she visibly meant to do.

“Put your head on your pillow. You’re too tired to think about all that, it’s not doing you any well. I can tell– you’re not making any sense behind those eyes.”

Unable and unwilling to protest, Broly put his head down, his tears now running across his temples. Though the blur in his eyes, he could make out Cheelai’s figure above him quite well.

“Close your eyes, Broly.”

He closed them with a deep breath, that for once had nothing to do with his coughing.

Shortly after, a soft, delicate pressure pushed down the mattress, and another rested upon his forehead, the thin wet towel being the very only border between him and the alien touch.

His eyes quickly flew open, but a little hand covered them right away, spurring his eyelids to go back to where they were. 

“Keep them closed, Broly. Keep them closed.”

She pressed her forehead closer, wiping his tears and her indexes following their trail. 

“We all have times of vulnerability, Broly. It doesn’t mean you’re weak, or bad. On the contrary…”

Her whispers were hot and wet to his ears. 

“People think one is strong when they can take care of themselves… Or themselves and others. But, what takes real strength… It’s allowing others to take care of you when you need it, and not reject them out of ego or shame. Trusting others, during that time… It’s a strength very few people have. So, don’t reject us, Broly. Nor Lemo, nor me.”

Broly let out a small cough despite himself. The fever, and the warm words that created strange sensations he couldn’t bear to comprehend in him, all of it teased the border of his consciousness.

His tears doubled. It took Broly a moment to get where they came from so suddenly.

It was… tiredness. A good tiredness, with which also came another thing –relief. 

His hand flew to his face, aggressively wiping what it could before being rejoined by a light, comforting weight on its back. 

“There’s no shame in crying. I promise.”

~

“Mmh. Broly was right. Your temperature is quite high… Looks like you’ve got yourself a fever.”

Cheelai coughed in defeat, smothered under a sea of covers and pillows, while Lemo flaunted a wry smile as if to say “told ‘ya!”. 

At the very least Broly had had the delicacy not to add Ba’s stinky ear to the pile of covers –she meant it with all due respect to the big beast and its Saiyan friend, but damn, no matter how many washes it got, it still stank to no end!

“You can only blame yourself.” Lemo taunted her with tongue click, as if she wasn’t already down the very bottom of shame. “If you two didn’t get so lovey-dovey when Broly was sick…”

“We WEREN’T lovey-dovey!!” Cheelai screeched from the dead (or so did it seem, considering how hoarse her voice was) and raised her fist in protest, followed by her upper body. Broly, who was sitting beside the bed, gently pushed her back down the mattress.

Lemo turned around, raising his non-existent eyebrows. “Yeah yeah, whatever you say, tough girl.”

“Why, you!...”

“Broly, you seem excited enough about this, though.”

The huge Saiyan, now all cured and swell, nodded quickly and nimbly. 

“I’m not happy about Cheelai being sick, but…”

“Say, are you two really going to continue talking about me as if I wasn’t just here?”

“...it means I get to take care of her, now. She gets to be all mine.”

Lemo choked on his own spit and a millisecond Broly deadpan dropped that –then bursted out into laughter when Broly blinked at him in disbelief.

“Why are you laughing?”

He turned to Cheelai in confusion, only to get more confused. She was practically hiding herself, covering her very red face with both her hands and whining in embarrassment. 

“Broly, for the love of EVERYTHING, don’t say things like that out of the blue!!”

“Huh? What things?”

Cheelai bolted out of her lying position, pointing a finger gun right between the poor guy’s two eyes.

“Oh, really, you DARE act like you have no idea what that means?!”

Broly looked back at her intently, actually genuinely interested in learning what was the issue. “Did I… offend you?”

At the sight of his innocent face –you could draw a question mark above his head and it wouldn’t feel out of place–, Cheelai suddenly lost all her resentment and strength, then melted back into her bedding, shoving her blushing face underneath the covers once and for all.

“...Nevermind…”

It did not take him long to forget the matter anyway. He reached to stroke the little white locks of hair that got past the covers, falling cutely on the humid fabric of the towel.

“I’ll refresh your towel.”

[all-might-can-smash-me]

Hatchling

Keigo Takami / Hawks x Reader

Summary: You push Keigo to actually guide Tokyami instead of just using him as a means of getting the scoop on class 1A. 

Masterlist and other information

Hawks? Who didn’t love the guy? He was one of the top three heroes and the public adored him, the ladies loved him, and heroes in training looked up to him? To you? Well....

“You invited Tokoyami to do what? To gossip like some old aunt or grandmother and then to just humiliate him?” You questioned with a stern look upon your face as Keigo looked to you as he slurped the cup of noodles that were being cradled in one of his hands, but the lowering of his wings showed what he felt. It was like when a dog’s ears would tilt downwards in guilt upon being scolded. That slurping on those noodles could hide the emotions that would have snuck up on his face but those wings betrayed him big time as he lowered the cup coolly from his face. 

“Come on, I was interested in the USJ attack. I mean, a whole bunch of freshlings in a hero course taking on the League of Villains and making them even retreat? Who wouldn’t want to know more details.....and I may have felt like the hero commissions office wasn’t telling me everything” He spoke calmly with a shrug of his shoulders as he sat hunched out his cup of noodles upon the couch of the apartment you shared, soft glow of the late night program glistening upon his face. 

You how ever only rolled your eyes as you barge into the lazy view he had upon the tv at the rerun of a cartoon he had watched, mouth opening in protest midway through lifting another bite of noodles to his face. “Keigo, that poor boy took you up on your offer to shadow you because you are in Japans top three heroes only for you to want a bit of gossip and to have him chasing after you like the rest of your sidekicks? You are suppose to be instructing him to be a hero not a sidekick!” You exasperated to him as he could only sit there and silently stare at you at a loss for words as the noodles plopped back into the cup, splashing the broth onto him in which in return gave a yelp out as it had already began to possibly stain his shirt.

“Alright! Please look over today’s agenda! Emails with certain tasks will be emailed to your work emails as well, so don’t forget to check them!” you announced to the division of sidekicks that were under your supervision. They all gave their polite responses before heading to their cubicles or rushing off to their other duties. Phones were already ringing and causing a ruckus, but you saw Tokoyami waiting patiently, you giving a sigh as you begin to walk forward now giving a small bow to the hero in training. “Hey there, I hope Hawks isn't being a handful” you spoke out with a little laugh.

“He is quite fast, but its something that I must go through to become a hero” the young student spoke out seriously, though you couldn’t help but just see that disappointment flash across his face. 

“Well it must be tiring nonetheless, join me and Hawks for dinner tonight, I’ll contact Eraser Head to make sure he is aware of the arrangement. We’ll also make sure you are back safely” You spoke as you gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze before you were marching off with your clicking heels. You didn’t even allow him to give a yes or no to an invite

Nonetheless, he was now slipping his shoes off, back in his school uniform, besides Hawks who was now tossing off the yellow protective eyewear and stripping his jacket off with a sigh of relief. Tokoyami didn’t know what to expect when he tried to picture your home, but it wasn’t this. It was homey and the walls were filled with pictures from all stages of life. Pictures of first dates, birthdays, honeymoon, anniversary, wedding. It was strange, but he surely didn’t mean to stare at them for too long.

“That was them and I’s first anniversary” He commented as he stepped forward to point to one of them that Tokoyami’s eyes landed on. “We went to Kyoto, they are into history and more traditional things, but anyways I bought them a ring, pretty diamond to go with their wedding band and some bird had the audacity to steal it right from my hand!” He spoke out, though looked past Tokoyami as he heard a giggle.

“Hawks went searching for forever until he finally stole it back from their nest, but he came back to me covered in scratch marks” You finished the story as you took Tokoyami’s school bag to place off to the side upon a shelf that your purse sat on. 

Now this really was a culture shock. Average people never really think that a hero actually has a life behind the hero scene unless you run into a specific heroes kid like when he met Shoto. Tokoyami also had to admit that Hawks was really on the bottom of the list of people that he would have pictured actually having a family of his own. And it was weird.

Hawks seemed normal talking to his wife, just talking about his day at work and she just felt like a motherly figure when she had began to inquire about how school was going for Tokoyami and what his future goals were. An odd fuzzy feeling rose to his chest as he ate his food and spoke in turn and politely listened. All this time he felt brushed off to the side, forgotten, like his time was wasted once again by showing up again to shadow under Hawks, the number 2 hero, but why now does he feel like he is part of a family? He almost wanted to curse himself. 

“Come on Tokoyami, lets go for a little outing before we call it a day” Hawks spoke as his chair slid back as he rose from it, wings stretching out wide. Tokoyami was quick to follow, almost nervous for what was to come.

“You boys be safe now, you hear?” You called, smiling softly at the ‘yeah we will’ that followed and the door closing. It wasn’t until a bit later the door was opened once more, you already standing before them. “Alright you two, huddle together!” you chirped out as you lifted you phone up.

“What for?”

“I didn’t get a picture last, but Tokoyami was your first and only student you brought in and I want to remember this special occasion. Now come on you two” you beckoned, smiling down proudly to the picture after it was taken. “Cuties..now Tokoyami, here's your bag, I hope you don't mind but I made mochi for you and packed it away in there” You spoke as you handed him his bag. “Visit us every now and then too, I want to be able to see what a fine hero you will become” You spoke up with a proud smile. 

That very same night when Hawks had returned for bringing Tokoyami back to the UA dorms, you waited for him expectantly for details. Though he only gave you a shrug “What? I just gave my little hatchling some pointers” And that brought a smile upon your face and a sense of relief.

The next time Tokoyami had came to you and Hawks’ home for dinner, that very picture of him and Hawks was framed right at the doorway for everyone to see and that warm and fuzzy feeling plagued his heart once again.

[writethelifeyouwant]

Dirty Dancing

Summary: Dean buys Sam a lap dance for as a surprise his eighteenth birthday, but when Sam arrives back at the motel room and finds Pamela and Dean waiting for him, there’s been a bit of a misunderstanding. Dean’s booked a little more than just a lap dance, and now the boys are in for a night they’ll never forget.

Pairing: Dean x Sam x Pamela / Dean x Sam Rating: 18+ Tags: Omegaverse, Alpha!Pamela, Unpresented!Sam, Omega!Dean, Sam is 18, Happy Birthday Sam, Dean buys Sam a lap dance, Dean has a voyeur kink, Voyeurism, Lap Dance, Stripping, Prostitution, Dry Humping, P in V, Masturbation, P in A, Knotting, First Time Word Count: 5,160

Created for: @spnkinkbingo - Dean/Sam/Pamela | @spndeanbingo - Lap Dance | @samwinchesterbingo - Voyeurism | @spnabobingo - Lavender/Chamomile/Cannabis | @j3bingo - Stripper AU

“Dean? Sam calls as he opens the door to the motel room they’d checked into earlier that morning. He’s carrying the food Dean had sent him out to pick up: Sam had chosen a sandwich shop down the street that smelled incredible when he walked by. But it looks like he didn’t bring enough food back, because there’s someone else in the room with Dean.

“Uh, h-hi?” Sam stammers awkwardly as he closes the door behind him, sandwich bag dangling awkwardly from his hand.

The woman standing with Dean is very pretty: dark brown hair with messy waves, big flirty lashes and big shiny lips. Her top is too small, riding up over her waist and leaving a significant gap of skin on show above the tight jeans slung low on her hips. She’s obviously older than both himself and Dean but that certainly hasn’t diminished her beauty.

“Hiya, handsome,” she smiles at Sam and winks lasciviously. Sam’s jaw drops for a moment before he regains control of his own muscles.

“Happy birthday, Sammy!” Dean spreads his arms wide, as if shining a spotlight on their female guest, and now Sam is really confused.

“Huh?”

“Happy birthday, Sammy,” the woman purrs, stalking forwards towards Sam, a wide smile on her red-painted lips. Her heels click ominously on the linoleum as she corners him against the counter of the kitchenette in their room. Sam hurriedly puts down the bag of food he’s still carrying so he can defend himself.

“Dean, what’s happening?” he asks, slightly panicked, the pitch of his voice climbing higher than he cares to admit.

“Jeez, I thought you were the smart one, Mr. Going-to-college-this-fall,” Dean scoffs in annoyance. “How many times do we have to say ‘Happy Birthday’ for you to understand that this is your birthday present?”

“But, my birthday was last week,” Sam stammers weakly in a confused protest, staring pointedly over the shoulder of the woman who still had him pinned against the counter between her arms. Out of the corner of his eye though, Sam notices he has the perfect view of her cleavage down the top of her shirt.

“Yeah, and we were neck deep in ghoul guts in the middle of friggin’ nowhere, there weren’t many options on the ground for present shopping,” Dean explains with a shrug, picking up the beer that he’d put down on the dresser he’s leaning against. “So I’m a few days late with your present, sue me, but trust me, Pamela here will be worth the wait,” he grins, clearly checking out her ass, and Sam shivers at how skeevy his older brother is being right now. Dean was ridiculous sometimes.

“Dean’s right about that, baby,” Pamela uses a single finger to pull Sam’s head back around so he’s looking into her hazel eyes. “I’ll give you a night you’ll never forget.”

The finger on his face traces across Sam’s throat as he swallows nervously, then makes its way teasingly down his chest to tuck into the waistband of his jeans, and that’s when he finally jumps away from her touch.

“Calm down, sugar,” Pamela laughs. “I don’t bite, unless you’re kinky,” she winks.

Sam gapes, dumbfounded. Dean snorts into his beer. Rounding angrily on his brother, Sam indicates that he needs to speak to Dean privately with a jerk of his head, and his older brother follows him languidly to the other side of the room, shooting Pamela a grin as they pass her.

“What the hell, dude?” he demands in a harsh whisper as soon as they’re on the other side of the room, hopefully far enough away that Pamela can’t hear him.

“Am I the best big brother or what?” Dean flexes his eyebrows in delight, obviously expecting some profuse thank you from his little brother. Instead he gets a pretty meaty punch in the shoulder, knocking his beer back into his chest. “Hey! Watch it!”

“Dean, did you seriously hire a prostitute for my birthday?” Sam hisses through clenched teeth, flashing the woman in question an awkward smile as movement in the corner of his eye draws his attention towards her. She flutters her fingers at him in a vixen’s wave and Sam swallows thickly.

“She’s not a prostitute,” Dean rolls his eyes in exasperation. “She’s a stripper.”

Like the distinction makes this whole situation okay.

“Oh goody, we’re just gonna sit here together while she gets naked for us? How is that a birthday present?” Sam is incredulous, what the fuck was Dean thinking?

“No,” Dean draws out the word like it should be obvious that’s not the plan. “I got you a lapdance, and dude, let me tell ya-” he drops his voice lower and glances around as if he’s all of a sudden worried about being overheard, “-she’s good at ‘em.”

Sam’s expression drops into his patented little-brother-bitch-face. “You already got a lapdance from her, didn’t you?” His tone is obviously unimpressed, and Dean’s guilty shrug tells Sam all he needs to know.

“Dean,” he asks slowly, something occurring to him, “did she sell you my birthday present while you were getting your lapdance?” Dean looks even guiltier. “So you weren’t gonna get me anything for my birthday; you went and got yourself a lapdance while I went out to pick up some food, and you got conned by the stripper into buying more dances, didn’t you?”

“Do you have to ruin what could be a very nice brotherly bonding moment?” Dean huffs, taking a sip from his beer in frustration as Sam rolls his eyes in exasperation.

“Oh bo-oys,” Pamela calls in a sing-song tone from across the room, and Sam and Dean both turn from their argument immediately, gawping at what they see.

Pamela’s sitting on top of the dresser, legs swinging playfully - bare legs - she's removed her jeans and the tiny tank she’d been wearing, leaving her in nothing but her strappy black stilettos and hot pink, lacey lingerie. Teasingly, she places her hands on her knees, and Sam notices the long talon-like red nails digging into her pale flesh as she spreads her legs, showing off the tiny band of her thong pressed closely over her mound. The scent of her Alpha pheromones wafts towards them now that she has so much skin on show and Sam doesn’t struggle to identify the different components.

The aroma is strong, floral but not pretty, more earthy: lavender, Sam’s sure, and the softer touch of chamomile - both herbs he knows well from their work and their uses in protective charms. They’re aromas that feel safe. Then beneath those dominant top notes is something achingly sweeter, like the smoke of burning sage has started to envelope the room, but it’s more cloying, the scent sticking in his throat: weed. Sam scoffs to himself internally; he understands why Dean was so drawn to Pamela in the first place. Next to him, his omega brother is practically salivating, and Sam can scent the arousal rolling off him in waves.

And Sam’s not entirely unaffected by the scents permeating the room either. He can feel his blood beginning to channel south as a result of staring at the beautiful, nearly naked woman, and he shifts from one foot to the other uncomfortably. Pamela holds out her hand and beckons Sam forward, flicking on the CD player sitting next to her on the flimsy pine furniture she’s perching on.

A light drum beat overwrought with the clarinet and brass of a burlesque band begins to play loudly, and Sam finds himself following Pamela’s siren call, taking her outstretched hand and helping her to hop down from the dresser. She presses her front against his in a jolt, and Sam’s hands come up to catch her, his fingers easily wrapping themselves around her shoulders. Her attitude might be alpha but God, she sure is tiny, Sam thinks in the split second he’s holding her, until suddenly she’s pushed him backwards with a hard shove and his knees give out when they hit the edge of one of the crappy motel beds.

“You just sit there like a good boy,” Pamela pokes a red nail into Sam’s chest, and he finds himself nodding, not at all curious as to what she would do if he disobeyed. Typically Sam balks at anyone giving him orders, but he’s finding he doesn’t mind so much if it’s Pamela doing it; especially not when she’s straddling him on her knees so her cleavage is directly in front of his face.

Peripherally, Sam is aware that Dean has sat down on the next bed over and is presumably watching the show. Sam spares just a second to think about how weird that is before Pamela shoves him with both hands so he lands flat on his back, an ominous creek groaning from the mattress springs beneath them. She crawls slowly up his body in time to the music, her hips dipping on alternate beats so the front of her panties skim over Sam’s own crumpled clothing.

When they’re face to face, Pamela grinds back, finding Sam’s now full-fledged erection easily, like it’s a homing beacon, and begins twisting herself teasingly over the bulge in the denim between his legs.

“Fuck,” Sam swears under his breath, forcing his eyes to focus so he can watch every twitch, every roll, every twist that Pamela is performing on top of his prone body. Dean hadn’t lied, Pamela knows what the fuck she’s doing. He’s nothing more than a stage for her to work on. I’ve even got a pole she can use, Sam thinks wryly to himself, unable to deny how much this is turning him on.

“I heard that, Sam,” Pamela whispers breathlessly in his ear, and Sam jumps in surprise, his hips bucking beneath her as she grinds down on top of him again, pulling a groan of appreciation from his chest. “You’re right, you do have quite the pole down here,” she grins up at him lecherously.

“H-how… did you?” Sam pants, confused and mildly terrified that this woman apparently just read his thoughts.

“Dean forgot to mention I’m a psychic, too, didn’t he,” she laughs, eyes flicking to the side where Dean is lounging back against the pillows on the second bed, beer held loosely and forgotten in his fist as he drinks in the show instead.

“Uh, yeah,” Sam turns a glaring eye on his older brother, who only shrugs, not even bothering to look apologetic.

“Don’t worry, honey,” Pamela turns Sam’s head back to look at her, smiling broadly. “I can’t read your mind all the time, it’s just, that thought was particularly loud,” she giggles, ghosting her lips over Sam’s. “And so was that thought,” she whispers ruefully, before kissing him. Sam had indeed just been thinking about how soft and kissable her lips looked, and how badly he wanted to bite them. Pamela’s doing a very good job of making his thoughts come to life.

This must be why she’s so fucking good at her job. No wonder she’d conned Dean into buying more dances, she’d known exactly which buttons to press to make him putty in her oh so soft hands. A disgruntled noise from somewhere in the distance alerts Sam to Dean’s presence again, and he breaks off the kiss with Pamela with a final bite to her lower lip and looks around, face flushed and breath heaving.

“You sure thought a lot about Dean just then for someone who’s kissin’ me,” Pamela bends and whispers in Sam’s ear, quietly enough that he knows Dean hasn’t heard her.

Sam’s grip on her shoulders flexes instinctively. It’s the truth, he and Dean have spent their whole lives being so attuned to one another’s presence that if their brother was anywhere nearby it was almost like a constant background noise in their minds; just an endless loop of Dean. Sam. Dean. Sam. Dean. Sam. They couldn’t help it anymore, it was a reflex. It was part of them.

“How come he gets a kiss and I didn’t?” Dean whines petulantly, making Pamela and Sam laugh against one another.

“Because it’s his birthday,” Pamela purrs, lips teasing over Sam’s throat while her eyes are fixed on his older brother. “And because you bought your baby brother way more than a lap dance, Dean,” she giggles, her eyes twinkling.

“He what?” Sam startles beneath the stripper, and Dean chokes on his beer.

“S-sorry,” he coughs, “I what?”

“You kept sayin’ how much of a shame it was that poor little Sammy was going off to college a virgin,” Pamela pouts sympathetically, and Sam shoots a glare at his older brother. She shimmies her way down Sam’s body again, still in time to the music, pulling the snaps of his shirt open one by one as she goes. “And then you handed over all that money you won at pool, well that was worth far more than a lapdance, honey.”

Sam’s breath goes ragged as Pamela flicks open the edges of his shirt, exposing his bare chest. His heart feels like it might break his rib cage with how hard it’s hammering against the bones. Panicking, he flicks his eyes over to Dean, who’s watching the proceedings with a slack jaw and wide, glazed eyes. When the brothers lock eyes, they both swallow visibly.

“If you promise to be a good boy, you can join in too,” Pamela grins towards Dean, holding out a hand in invitation. Sam’s eyes dart between the stripper and his brother, curious as to how this will play out. His brother’s always had a weakness for alpha women, and Sam can see just how much she’s affected him already evidenced in the tight bulge of his jeans. But to his surprise, Dean shakes his head slowly, blinking rapidly like he’s waking himself up from a dream before answering.

“I-I’m good here,” Dean’s voice quakes, far more breathless than Sam’s ever heard it, and with a jolt he realises that this must be how Dean sounds when he’s turned on: delicate, meek, enraptured. He likes the sound.

“Suit yourself,” Pamela shrugs with a smirk on her face before turning back to Sam. “Now, what does the birthday boy want for his present?”

Dean’s eyes glaze over and his field of vision goes hazy as he watches Sam and Pamela on the next bed. The music she’s put on has a seedy, undeniably sexy beat, and the way her hips are rolling over Sam’s is hypnotising. Her alpha pheromones are intoxicating, just like they had been back at the club he’d picked her up from, but here, in this tiny room with just the three of them, the scent is even more overwhelming. And mixed with the warm, undefined undertones of Sam’s markers, Dean was in heaven.

Part of him desperately wants to join in, but he won’t; not in the way Pamela had offered at least, not at first. This is for Sam, Sammy’s first time as a real man, a boy deserves keeping that for himself. Although Sam won’t be keeping it totally to himself; Dean still fully intends to stay on this bed. To watch out for him. Pamela was a strange alpha after all, and a psychic one at that, he couldn’t leave Sam alone, just in case there was any danger.

Just in case.

“Now, what does the birthday boy want for his present?” Pamela purrs, eyes fixed back on Sam, and Dean sees Sam blush from his cheeks all the way down his chest. It turns his skin the same kissable pink as his lips and Dean feels himself flush at the thought. He’s been having feelings like that about Sam for longer than he’d like to admit, particularly considering his baby brother only turned eighteen last week.

Sam hasn’t even presented yet, and it’s rare these days to present as anything other than a beta, like their Dad is. Their mom had been, and their grandparents so far as Dean knew. He’s the odd one out of their messed up little family unit. Chances are Sam would present as a beta too and then it wouldn’t matter how kissable Dean thinks his lips are, because Dean needs an Alpha. And the alpha in the room is currently grinding on top of his little brother, pulling sickeningly sweet moans from between his soft lips.

Dean feels rather than hears the groan bubble up within his chest and drops a hand to his crotch, where his dick has been throbbing, untouched in its confines, for longer than he can handle. His fingers knead over the bulge and ease some of his tension as he watches on, but as he shifts on the bed to find a more comfortable position, and eases his zipper down, he becomes aware of a different problem: he’s getting wet.

Jesus fucking Chris now is not the time to go into heat.

“I think your brother is enjoying the show,” Pamela croons in Sam’s ear, but it’s loud enough that Dean hears her too. The light teasing in her tone has him blushing in embarrassment, but also gets him leaking even more. She must have heard his panicked thoughts of a moment before.

Sam’s head flops to the side, his dishevelled hair splayed out around his head like a crown of sandy curls, his eyes bright with excitement and dark with lust. His mouth falls open in a shocked little sigh as Pamela’s hands drag down his bare chest and dig into the waist of his jeans, pulling open the button and peeling him out of his remaining clothing. Sam’s chest is heaving with deep breaths, showing off the tone of his chest and his stomach muscles. Dean finds himself imagining he can smell the sweat that’s beading on his throat and dripping temptingly down his clavicle.

“Why don’t you take care of that little problem you’ve got there, Dean?” Pamela suggests in a raspy voice, once again dragging her body up over Sam’s. “We don’t mind, do we Sammy?” she nuzzles at his throat and kisses down the straining tendons pressing tightly against his skin, licking away the sweat Dean had been eyeing up so greedily a moment before. He groans in equal measures of jealousy and lust.

“Y-yeah,” Sam pants, and Dean’s eyes snap to his little brother’s instantly, locking his gaze with his own. “S’fine, Dean. Can scent you from all the way over here, know you want to.”

Like it had always been Sam’s permission he was waiting for, Dean doesn’t waste another second before he’s lifting his hips and shoving his jeans and boxers down out of the way, groaning when the pressure over his cock is finally released, and it springs up to smack dully against his stomach.

“Ooh, what a pretty little omega,” Pamela coos, her cheek pressed to Sam’s as they both stare at him from across the thin aisle of grey carpet separating their two beds. Dean’s desperation falters under their gaze and he squeezes his eyes shut in embarrassment before finally letting a hand drop to his cock and gripping it firmly. “Don’t let all that slick go to waste, boy,” Pamela laughs huskily, and Dean groans, dipping his fingers lower between his legs to gather up some of his wetness and dragging it back up to his cock to ease the slide of his hand.

“Think you’ll start slicking up one day?” Pamela’s question is directed at Sam now, as she kisses her way down his stomach towards his dick. “Or do you think this here will bulk up and pop a knot?” Her hand wraps around the base of his cock and twists, stroking him teasingly. Dean remembers how soft her hands are, he bets they feel amazing jerking Sam off like that.

“Although,” Pamela muses, “you’re already pretty big, aren’t ya Sammy? What do you think, Dean?”

“Uh,” Dean clears his throat, his hand faltering in its strokes, “y-yeah.” He swallows painfully.

“Take a proper look, Dean,” Pamela straightens up, Sam’s cock in her hand, stroking it gently so it’s standing straight up from his hips. Sam’s groans and throws his head back when she twists her fingers around the tip and squeezes.

“Fuck,” Sam shudders, his hips jerking beneath her touch.

“Are ya– ya just gonna tease him the whole time?” Dean manages to grunt, his own hand still preoccupied with his dick while his eyes are glued to his baby brother’s. “Thought you promised him a big night?”

“You’re pretty mouthy for an omega,” Pamela smirks.

“Yeah, he’s a pain in the ass,” Sam grunts with a laugh. “But uh, y-you are gonna do more than tease me, right?” he asks nervously, clearly getting more and more desperate by the second.

“Oh, you want more?” Pamela asks sweetly, fluttering her lashes down at Sam. “You want me to fuck you baby?”

“Oh, God yeah,” Sam groans, hips twisting beneath her as she straddles his waist. “Fuck, please,” he’s panting heavily, fists balled into the comforter beneath him.

“Hold yourself up for me, baby.” Pamela reaches for one of Sam’s hands and wraps it around his cock, holding himself erect, before pushing her own hand between her legs and pulling the pink lace to one side, revealing her glistening wet folds. She bends her hips and swirls herself over the head of Sam’s cock, making him toss his head back in pleasure.

“You ever felt a pussy before?” Pamela asks curiously, still teasing Sam. Dean reaches between his legs and lets his fingers begin to play with his own entrance. Sam shakes his head violently, clearly trying to hold himself back from sheathing himself inside of the one currently poised on top of him. “Well, happy birthday, Sammy,” she grins widely, and finally sinks her hips down over his cock, enveloping him in the warmth of her body.

“Oh my God,” Sam nearly shouts, hips flexing instinctively and fucking himself up into Pamela. His hands reach out to grab her hips, fingers digging firmly into the flesh and almost certainly bruising it. He uses her body like a rag doll, slamming her down against him over and over, and Pamela is moaning like it’s the first time she’s ever been fucked, rather than Sam’s first time. It’s like as soon as he was inside her some instinct took over and erased the nerves that had clearly been there not long before. Dean finds himself very much wishing that it was him Sam was fucking like that, and not Pamela.

“Holy shit,” Dean groans, feeling himself getting too close to the edge just watching them. He lets go of his cock entirely, spreading his legs more so he can get a finger inside himself. He sighs in relief when he finally has something inside, his body has been craving it this whole time.

“Sam, oh God that feels amazing,” Pamela moans, fucking herself back into Sam’s thrusts, her tits bouncing enticingly in her lacy bra. She looks divine, losing herself in the rapture of Sam’s lust. “Fuck, you’re a natural, Sammy,” she laughs breathlessly, and it melts into another moan that Sam echoes. Dean has to agree, Sam looks like he knows exactly what he’s doing. There’s a look of hungry determination in the lines of his face, his eyes pulled shut against the waves of overwhelming pleasure he must be feeling.

In a sudden burst of motion, Sam and Pamela roll over, Sam growling roughly as he paws at her breasts and tears the cups of her bra loose, letting her perky breasts spring free. They’re the perfect size to fit in the palms of his hands and he uses that to his advantage, holding her down while he fucks into her ruthlessly.

“Fucking… fuck,” he pants, his eyes screwing up with effort, groaning as Pamela wraps her legs around his waist and arches into his thrusts. “Wh– what’s happening? Fuck!” Sam doubles over Pamela’s body, his head burying itself in the crook of her neck.

Dean lets out a bark of laughter in shock.

“C’mon Sammy, don’t tell me you’ve never busted a nut before! Fucking hell, you’re more of a virgin than I thought.”

“Shut up!” Sam growls, turning a glare towards his older brother, and Dean recoils, though his cock jumps against his stomach in arousal. Sam’s eyes are nearly slits, and that growl was an actual growl. Something isn’t right.

“Sam,” Pamela groans, petting his hair gently while he continues to fuck her hard into the mattress. “Sam, honey, pull out.”

“No,” Sam answers in a whining growl, rutting against Pamela sharply.

“Sammy, a woman tells you to pull out, you pull out,” Dean chides. “I don’t care how good their pussy feels.”

“No!” Sam growls again, but Pamela shushes him, trying to calm his rutting.

“Sam, baby, ya gotta pull out. I can’t give you what you need right now, you won’t fit,” Pamela tries to reason with him, but her words don’t make any sense to Dean, and apparently not to Sam either because he asks:

“What are you talking about?” in a breathless whimper. It almost sounds like he’s in pain.

“You’re trying to knot me, Sam, but it’s not gonna fit. I’m an alpha, too, remember? My knot won’t let yours in.”

“W-what?” Sam’s fucking finally comes to a standstill, and he props himself up on his elbows, looking down at the woman beneath him.

“You’re presenting,” Dean answers, suddenly understanding what’s happening. “Fuck, Sammy, you’re an alpha?” His own dick twitches again at the thought.

“I… I–” Sam looks back to Pamela for answers, and she nods kindly.

“It’s okay baby, it’s good. But I’m not gonna get you where you need to go right now, you need to pop that knot before you hurt yourself,” Pamela explains, sneaking a hand between their bodies and pulling Sam’s cock out from between her legs. Dean can see the bulge beginning to form at its root and his mouth waters.

“Sammy.” He doesn’t mean to say it, but he has now, and his little brother is looking at him with wide, scared eyes.

“Dean…”

Dean reaches for the hem of his shirt and pulls it up over his head, then pushes his jeans the rest of the way down his legs. When he’s completely naked, he turns over to his hands and knees, presenting his hole to his baby brother. Then he takes a deep breath and waits, his heart climbing higher and higher in his throat the longer the silence in the room stretches on.

“Dean,” Sam breathes again, and his voice is closer now, though Dean hadn’t heard him get up off the other bed.

“Take it, Sammy,” Dean tells him, pitching his knees wider to spread himself out more in Sam’s view. He feels himself leaking down his thigh, fuck, he hasn’t been this wet since he fucking presented four years ago. “Take what ya need, Sam, c’mon.”

A beat. Silence. And then–

“Fucking mine,” Sam growls, and he launches himself at Dean, climbing onto the bed on his knees and rutting his cock between the globes of his brother’s ass until the tip catches against his rim and finally– finally –pushes in. “Mine,” Sam groans again as he sinks into Dean’s body, folding himself over his back and nosing against Dean’s neck.

There’s new scents making themselves known in the room now, but Dean can’t pull apart the different components of them. All he can smell is Sam and home and right. And that’s all he needs.

“Yours, Sammy,” Dean moans wantonly as Sam’s cock skates clumsily over his prostate. “All yours, just take it.”

“You… fucking… take it,” Sam snaps; his hips hammering into Dean’s ass, the sounds of flesh clapping together easily drowning out the fading music from Pamela’s CD player in the far corner. Dean wants to laugh at how fucking bratty Sam’s being but it comes out as a groan as Sam hits his prostate once again.

“Fuck yes! Yes, Sam, there. Just there,” he begs, arching his back to force Sam’s cock over the spot he needs it, feels his dick throbbing between his legs as his balls draw up tight against his body. “Shit, Sammy, make me cum. C’mon baby, so close… fucking hell…”

“Mm – fuck – ‘mega, feel so good,” Sam whines, his rhythm faltering as his brother clenches around him, and Dean can feel Sam’s knot pushing at his rim, fighting his body to let him in.

“Harder, Alpha. Fuckin’ knot me baby brother, please,” Dean moans, shifting his hips back into Sam as hard as he can. The knot begins to breach him, but not hard enough to lodge into his body, which pushes Sam back out instinctively recoiling against the too-big intrusion.

“Say it again,” Sam grunts. “Beg- beg me for it ‘mega. Beg me for my knot.”

“Give me your knot Alpha, c’mon. Need it, need you t’knot me, nee– fuck, Alpha, yes!” Dean whimpers, his cock twitching between his legs and spurting in jerks onto the comforter beneath him. “Fuck, Sam,” he pants, hips jerking back on his brother’s knot as he releases inside him, groaning heavily into Dean’s neck, shaking against his back in stunned silence with the strength of his climax.

“Jesus Christ, Dean,” Sam groans, rolling his hips and pulling another aftershock from Dean’s spent body.

“Calm down, Sammy,” Dean winces, too sensitive to keep going right now. “Can we uh, lay down or summin’? My knees are killin’ me.”

“Here, you two.” Pamela’s voice shocks both boys out of their reverie. To be honest Dean had forgotten she was even still here. She’s rearranging the pillows at the head of the bed and pulling up the blanket so they don’t have to lay on the comforter Dean had gotten cum all over.

“You’re gonna be tied for a while, since it’s his first. Get comfy and I’ll get you some water, okay?”

Dean feels Sam nod blearily against his back, and they carefully shuffle up the mattress and lay down on their sides, Sam’s arms wrapping around Dean like a teddy bear. Pamela produces a bottle of water from somewhere and hands it to Dean, who takes a few sips and passes it behind him to Sam, who does the same.

“You boys gonna be alright?” Pamela asks, shouldering her duffle bag, now carrying her CD player and whatever other accessories she’d brought with her. She’s wearing her jeans and cropped tank top again, no longer displaying her lacy lingerie.

“Uh, yeah, we’ll be alright,” Dean murmurs, and Sam hums in agreement. “I’ll take care’a him.”

“I have no doubt about that,” she smiles down at them sweetly, then leans down to give Sam a kiss on top of his head. “Well, I did promise you a night you’ll never forget, didn’t I baby?”

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[thewritetofreespeech]

I'm feeling under the weather. Would you write some scenarios of how the GOM boys + Kagami would take care of me to help me feel better???

Awwww! I’m so sorry to hear that!! I hope you feel better ^_^. Hope this helps too! It’s a little long with all the boys. So rest of the GOM + Kagami is under the cut.

Akashi:

Being sick was the worst. Between the body aches & pains, general lethargy, you hadn’t gotten out of bed hardly at all today. You barely had the energy to get up and call school this morning to tell them you weren’t coming. Thankfully, they hadn’t pressed, and wished you a speedy recovery for returning to class on Monday.

That was your wish too.

You didn’t want anyone to know you were sick.

Sleeping most of the day, you were surprised to hear the doorbell much later in the afternoon. This would be the time you would normally just be getting home from school. So, who could possibly expect you to be home right now?

“Akashi-kun…?” You said in surprise. Finding your boyfriend, and his dreamy duel-colored eyes, on the other side of your door.

“Hello darling.” The brilliant red head greeted with a soft smile. As if it was perfectly natural for him to be here. “I heard you were under the weather. So I came to check on you. I also brought a physician to check in on you as well.” You look past Akashi finally to see a nice, older looking gentleman in a white lab coat with a crescent eyed smile.

“Akashi-kun, I already went to the doctor. That’s how I know I’m sick.”

“This doctor is better.” He announced as he saw himself in, with his doctor, and led you over to the couch. “He’s the personal physician for the Akashi family. His credentials are far superior to that of your typical clinic doctor.” You want to say something to him about how it didn’t take ‘superior credentials’ to diagnosis a cold, but Akashi was already positioning you on the couch. He gave you another soft smile before he turned to the doctor with a much cooler look and told him to get to work.

Sure enough, you still have a cold. “Gee, I’m so glad you brought such a brilliant doctor all the way here for me Sei-kun.” You quip sarcastically. Using your familiar nickname now that you were alone.

“Humor me, alright.” He replied. Bringing over the tray of tea he had been busying himself with while the doctor examined you. “I was worried when you didn’t come to school today. Why didn’t you call me?”

“Because I didn’t want to worry you….” You mutter into your tea cup once he had handed it to you. “I know…you get worried about people you care about being sick, after what happened to your mom. When Kuroko was sick last winter you practically wore a trench in the floor pacing ‘til you knew he was better.” Your fingers run the brim of the tea mug. Soaking up the warmth in your hands as you hold it. “I thought I could get over it before you found out, so you wouldn’t have to be the wiser. I guess that was pretty stupid hn? You always figure everything out.”

Akashi looked at you with a soft expression. Then he leaned in to kiss your warm forehead. “You’re not stupid. Don’t ever say that about yourself.” He told you. “And yes, it’s true. I get worried when people I care about are ill. But more than that I get worried when people don’t tell me things. When my mother was sick, no one told me anything. They said she was fine. Then one day she was just gone. Being in the dark is worse than just knowing the truth. So I must insist that you tell me these things in the future. Ok?”

You smile a little. You can tell he was trying really hard not to make this an order; his orders were absolute after all. But he was trying to make sure that he was kept in the loop in the future. He was worried about you.

You smile a little and snuggle into Akashi’s chest. “Yes kotei-kun.”

Midorama:

Thank God Japan had such strict firearm laws, because if you had a gun right now you’d shot yourself.

Ok, no you wouldn’t. But death would be a sweet blessing over this cold. This 24-hour bug thing hit you hard and hit you fast. Crippling you from a once vibrant human being to a walking corpse in less than a few hours. You sincerely wished that it was only 24 hours.

You hear the doorbell from the kitchen and hope it’s your soup. Too weak to even make your own food, you’d begrudgingly ordered some hot broth in an attempt to eat and keep up your strength.

You open the door to surprisingly find not your soup but Shutoku’s positive point guard standing there. “Takao?”

“Hi [Y/N]-chan!”

“What are you doing here?”

“Shin-chan heard you were sick. So, he wanted to come take care of you.” Holding of a napsack of supplies.

You blink once, looking around to see if you had somehow missed Midorima in your fever fogged mind. “He’s…here?”

“Don’t just stand in the door way and let the cold air in. You’re just going to make your cold worse.”

You blink again and Takao gave an awkward laugh as he scratched the back of his head, before revealing a small green walkie-talkie from his pocket. “He didn’t want to get sick himself.”

A grumble of irritation left your lips. “So Shintaro sent you to do his dirt work, as usual.” Takao laughed again. “Tell him thanks but no thanks. I don’t want any second-hand bedside manner, and I’m just going to sleep anyway.”

“Oy! [Y/N]-chan! Don’t be like that!” The dark-haired teen’s hand lanced out to catch the door. Barring you from closing it. “Shin-chan was really worried when you didn’t come to school today. Honest. He does want to help. You just know how he is though. I know it’s not the same as coming up here himself, but he bought all this stuff and wrote down all these instructions for me to help make you feel better.”

You look at the bag Takao had in his hand. It did seem like a lot. Midorima must have gone to several different drug stores to pick it all up and bring it over here. Even if he did stay in the parking lot. You look past Takao down to the ground floor, where Midorima was standing looking up at your apartment. Seeming to wait for you to follow his instructions about going inside but also with that steadfast look he got when he was truly worried about something.

“You just don’t want to go back down there and tell him you failed.” The boy in front of you laughed with an awkward ‘maybe’. “You can’t stay too long. My parents are going to be back after work, and they’re not going to be happy about a boy in my room and another one looking real stalkery in the parking lot.”

“Thanks [Y/N]!” Takao said as you let him in.

“Make sure they take the cold medicine now, before it gets too late. It’s one cap full every 4 hours. Drink some of the green tea I made for you. It’s in the green thermos. The red one is soup.”

“I know how to take medicine Shintaro. And I already ordered food before you got here. It’s on its way so-Wait! Why am I arguing with a walkie-talkie!?!”

Aomine:

You have an absolutely splitting headache. To the point that every time you get up to go to the bathroom and throw up, you check to see if an icepick is somehow lodged in the back of your skull.

Why did you have to get sick today? Aomine was going to kill you for missing his game; even if the outcome was inevitable. His love for basketball was second only to you (and sometimes you weren’t sure about the ranking). So you being at his games was what he loved most of all. If you weren’t there to see him crush whatever team into dust and lead his team to victory, you’d never hear the end of it. Maybe you’d get lucky and he’d get in the Zone early on and not even realize you weren’t there. Yeah…that was possible….

You crack your eyes open into painful, narrow slits from under the covers as you realize the pounding you were hearing was not just in your head but at the door. What idiot was banging on your door in the middle of the afternoon?

Steeling yourself to get up and answer the door. You were surprised to find it was your idiot behind the door. Aomine standing there, in his trademark Too warmup suit and equally trademark scowl.

“Aomine? What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?! What are you doing here?!”

“I kind of live here.”

Aomine tsked through his teeth with a sneer. “That’s not what I meant, baka! Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?!”

“Oh….” You blink a little in surprise. What was a good way to tell him that you didn’t think he’d care? “I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

“It’s not, but you should still tell me about it!” He told you. “I had to hear about it from Satsuki. Do you know how stupid that makes me look if I don’t know that my own s/o is sick?!”

“So are you mad that I didn’t tell you? Or are you mad that I made you look stupid?”

“I’m mad at both!” Aomine yelled. He then seemed to realize he was yelling at a sick person, and his s/o, so he took a breath and calmed down. “Here.”

You look down at the convenience store bag he offered you. Taking it in your hands. “What’s this?”

“Jellies.” He replied, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t know which flavor you’d like when you’re sick, so I just got a bunch of ‘em.”

You blink at the bag, then up at Aomine. He…got these for you? You can see on his face now that he was angry because he was worried about you. Not that you were going to miss the game, but because he was worried about you. Your beautiful basketball ace was too proud to admit it though. “Thanks.” You said softly, with an equally soft smile.

The ace looked away and rubbed the back of his head while he was at it. “Yeah well, jellies always made me feel better when I was sick as a kid. Figured they’d make you feel better too.”

“I really appreciate it. I haven’t been able to keep much down.” Maybe that was TMI, but hey. Relationships weren’t always moonbeams and rainbows. “These will really hit the spot.”

“Well, I got extra red ones in there for you, so crack one open.” Aomine said as he saw himself past you and into your apartment.

“Hold on! You’re eating my present now?! Wait…hang on a minute, aren’t you supposed to be warming up for your game? How are you going to get back in time for starting line up if you’re here now?”

“I’m skipping it.” The blunette answered as if it was obvious. Taking off his windbreaker jacket and throwing it in a chair, before he flopped himself on your couch with his limbs stretched out to take up most of it. “There’s no one strong on that team anyway. So, it’s no fun. Let those other guys put in the work for once. They can’t expect me to carry the team all the time. So annoying….”

You stare at Aomine. Was he really….skipping basketball….to be with you here when you’re sick?

A warm feeling, you’re sure was not your fever this time, spread over you. He really did care, didn’t he?

“You should really put those in the fridge before they get warm. Warm jellies are the worst. I still want a red one though. Maybe two now that I think about it.”

You grumble as the ‘warm feeling’ starts to dissipate. Still harboring in your chest, but certainly less profound than it was a moment ago. “It’s super rude to eat someone’s present when they haven’t even had one of them, Aomine.” You still give him the red ones though.

Kise:

Your kingdom for another box of tissues. At the rate you were running through them, a small rainforest was in serious jeopardy.

If you didn’t feel so cruddy, you’d be more worried about that fact. Right now, however, you just wanted your nose to stop running. You had been sneezing and sniffling all day, and in an effort to not be labelled ‘Typhoid Mary’ chosen to stay home from school. It was the reasonable thing to do. When you were sick.  

You finish blowing your nose for the umpth time when your phone rang. You pick it up and answer with a gravely, “hello?”

“[Y/N]-CCHI!!”

You pull the phone away from your ear at the loud, sobbing cry of your name through the phone from your boyfriend. “Kise…don’t yell…”

“[Y/N]-cchi! You’re sick! Why didn’t you tell me?? Kurokocchi had to call me today and tell me!”

Damn Kuroko. That snitch. “Because it’s not a big deal. It’s just a little cold. I’ll be fine.”

“But [Y/N]-cchi! You’re all alone with no one to take care of you! I won’t be back til Sunday!” Kise had gotten a modeling job out of town for the weekend. Some ‘on location’ gig for some sea side pics. Poor Kise. He must be freezing. But, those photos needed to be done and printed long in advance before summer time to boost sales.

If you had had to put money on it, you would have thought he would be the sick one: running around half naked on a frozen beach in January. Yet here you were.

“Do you think I just sit in a dark closet, with nobody around, until you show up again Kise?” A dramatic gasp was heard on the other end of the phone. “I’m not ‘alone’ Kise. I mean, I am now, but I have people around me to help if I need it. So you don’t have to worry.”

“But I’m not around to help you!” Kise whined. You can practically hear the broken-hearted boyfriend emoji floating around his head. “Let me at least order you some soup. Soup is what sick people eat right? That place near your house has that chicken ramen you like. Chicken ramen is like chicken soup. That’s what people eat when they’re sick right?? Or maybe you want something else?? What’s another thing that sick people eat?!”

“Ryouta!” You have to yell his first name to get him out of the spiral. You love Kise, but every now and then his boundless energy was annoying. You let out a sigh, and tell him, “yes, you can order me some food. Don’t go overboard.”

Kise perked up. You do kind of wish you could see his smiling face. It was so cute when he did these adorable 180s. He promised not to go overboard before he hung up the phone and ordered you some food. He then immediately called you back to let you know it would be there in 20 minutes, and told you all about his day.

He stayed with you on the phone when your food came, and even after. You watched one of your favorite movies on Netflix party, curled up in your blankets on your bed. If you closed your eyes and focused on the warmth of your blankets & Kise’s soft voice in your ear, it was almost like he was here.

You fell asleep to that feeling. Feeling much better after you woke up and waiting for Kise to come home.

Kuroko:

You toss and turn a little in your sleep, trying to get back to it as you’ve actually woken up and want to sleep more. Rest was the only cure for a cold. And although you were still tired, even though you’d stayed home and slept all day, you were apparently too tired to fall back asleep.

You crack your eyes open. Your vision blurry for a moment before it clears up. Leaving you with a sea of blue in front of you. “Hello [Y/N].”

You let out a surprise shriek, followed by an almost perfect imitation of your boyfriend’s Ignite Pass against his face. “K-Kuroko!” You stammer, as the young man in question tried to recover from the shattering blow you just gave him. “I’m so sorry! What are you doing here?!”

“Your mother let me in.” He replied, words muffled by his hand. He pulled it away to inspect it and seemed to find no blood. That was a relief. You’d feel so bad if you both were down for the count. “I wanted to see you, and bring you your course work for today.”

Ah. So that’s how he got in. You didn’t think your mother would just let a high school boy in your room unsupervised. Also, maybe it was because Kuroko looked so unthreatening. If only she knew. “Thanks. Sorry again.”

“It’s alright. I should have known better than to sneak up on a sick person.” He said with a soft smile. His hand reached out to pet your head. “How are you feeling?”

“Still crummy,” you confess, “but on the mend. I’m sure I’ll be back to school on Monday.”

“Good. Everyone at school misses you. Even the senpais were asking about you today.”

“Did you miss me Kuroko?” You ask sheepishly.

To which he got a surprised expression before softening and immediately answering, “yes.”

Your face warmed with something other than a fever, and you pulled your blanket up to your nose. “You should go. I don’t want you to get sick too.”

“I’ll stay for a little bit longer. Don’t worry. I won’t get sick.”

It was a big fat lie as Kuroko was sick immediately after he left. He really should have known better with his borderline frail physique for anything other than basketball. Still, it was nice to talk to him for a while. And you got to take care of him after you were better, so it was all worth it.

Murasakibara:

‘Just a few more hours. You can do this.’

You keep repeating that to yourself over and over again in your head as you trudge down the hall. Only a few more classes and you could go home to die in peace. Why did you have to have a test today?!

Your penance march comes to a halt when you run into somebody. Looking up you realize it was Murasakibara. “Oh, sorry Mura-kun. I didn’t see you there.” You really must be sick if you hadn’t noticed the tower that was your boyfriend and Yosen center.

“[Y/N]-cchi, you don’t look so good.” The purple haired man drawled.

You frown up at him, not needing to hear that right now. “That’s not very nice to say to your s/o, Mura-kun.”

“But it’s the truth.” He told you. “Honesty is the best policy.” You couldn’t really argue with him there. Besides, you were too weak to argue.

Suddenly your vision was dark. You were worried for a second that you might have blacked out in your sick induced state, but quickly realize that Murasakibara’s large hand was on your face. “Mura-kun, let go.”

“You have a fever.” He replied, completely ignoring your protest. He still let you go, of his own volition, and stood to his full height again. “You need to go to the nurse.”

“No. I need to go to class.” You state in a huff. Batting his hands away in an effective, but weak manner, before walking past him to head just there.

You make it about three steps before Murasakibara grabbed you. Lifting you up in the air with ease and throwing you over his shoulder, in a move that would have made your head spin normally. Not to mention if you had a fever. “Atsushi! Let go!” You shout. Squirming and kicking your legs to no avail.

“No. You need to go to the nurse.” He repeated. Carrying you like a sack of potatoes as he walked down the hall.

“Put me down Atsushi! This is embarrassing! I need to go to class and take my test! It’s important!”

“Nothing is more important that your health.” You stop struggling for a moment as Murasakibara said something actually profound for once. “[Y/N]-cchi needs to take care of themselves, or they’ll just get sicker and get others sick. Tests and silly stuff like school work can wait.”

You grumble and slump down on Murasakibara’s shoulder. It wasn’t like him to be this serious. He also seemed very serious about taking you to the nurse. Nothing seemed capable of deterring him from that path. “Mura-kun, can you put me down? I’ll go to the nurse with you, but this isn’t really comfortable and I can walk on my own.”

He stopped. Then gave you a side ways glance out of the corner of his eye, seeming to not trust you, but still gave in and sat you down. “[Y/N]-cchi is gonna be good?”

“Yes,” you tell him, “I’ll be good.”

He escorted you the rest of the way to the nurses station. Asking if he could have a lollipop, and annoyed when they didn’t have one. What kind of a doctor’s office was this if they didn’t have lollipops, he asked. You’d giggled a little bit and told him to get to class. You’d call him later, since your parents were going to have to pick you up and take you home. You 100% had a fever and were told to go home. Murasakibara pet your head once more before he left to get to class.

The next day, when you were home recuperating, your mother had come into your room with a big candy store bag. “Someone left this big bag of lollipops at the door for you. Do you have any idea who it’s from?”

Kagami:

“I’m really ok Mom….No, it’s not that serious….You really don’t have to come home. Dad either. It’s not the first time I’ve had a cold, and I’m just gonna sleep it off. I’ll be fine by myself…..Yes, I got medicine….No. I’ll be ok. I have a friend from school who’s checking in on me….I love you too. Bye.”

“Your Mom ok?” You look up from the couch when Kagami came up behind it. Handing you a bottle of water for your scratchy sounding throat.

“Yeah. She’s ok. Just worried. She asked if I wanted her to come home, but I told her no.” You hate to admit it but you’re pretty sure it was a hollow gesture. Your parents work was very important. You had learned that early on growing up. They missed certain things in the trade off for having very important, successful careers. One of which was taking care of their child when they were sick.

“You also didn’t tell her it was me who was here. How come?”

“You want me to call her back and tell her we’re playing house?” You ask, with as cheeky of a grin as you can muster being sick. It still got the desired result.

“We’re not playing house!”

“Doctor then?”

Your cute boyfriend turned about as red as his hair, and stalked off back to the kitchen while fluster muttering to himself.

You chuckle a little. Which turned into a coughing fit, so you had to drink a little bit of water.

You and Kagami had initially bonded over being “latchkey kids”. Though your situation was not as severe as Kagami’s, with your parents still being in the country at least, they both traveled for work a lot and were rarely home. They tried to stagger their work trips so you wouldn’t be home alone, but this wasn’t the first time.

This also wasn’t the first time you would be alone when you were sick, if it hadn’t been for Kagami.

“Aren’t you worried you’re going to get sick?” You ask from the living room. Your voice squeaking and squawking the whole time.

“I never get sick.” He replied back confidently. Then rounded the corner with a tray you were 90% sure you did not have in your house before now. “Basketball and eating right keeps me healthy. So, I never get sick. You don’t have to worry.”

“I don’t think eating a dozen cheeseburgers a day counts as ‘eating right’.” You tell him.

Kagami grumbled. Seeming to want to argue or say something, but realizing its bad form to fight with a sick person. Instead, he just sat the tray down in front of you and sat on the couch. “What’s this?”

“Chicken noddle soup,” he replied. “Japan doesn’t have the right noodles. So I had to use soba. But the main part should be the same.”

“You made me chicken soup?”

Kagami tensed for a moment. His face turning hot pink again; possibly from the soft expression on your face or the soft sound of your voice. He turned away, scratching his cheek. “Y-Yeah. Like I said, it’s important to eat right to keep healthy. So…So eat up so you can be at school on Monday. It sucks when you’re not there.”

You smile softly at Kagami, then lean over to give him a peck on the cheek. “You said you never get sick right?” You tell him when he looked at you. His cheeks still pink, but not much pinker than before.

You eat your soup and gush constantly over how tasty it was. Kagami seemed super proud. Cooking and basketball were the two skills he was most proud of, and knowing that you liked something he made made him puff out his chest even more.

After your soup he made you a bowl of ice cream you were also 90% sure you did not have in your house before now and watched a movie.

After that, Kagami said he was going to head home but when he stood up from the couch you hand lanced out and grabbed onto his shirt tail on it’s on. “Could…Could you stay?” You’ll blame the weak sounding tone of your voice on your cold later. “I know I told my mom that I’d be fine on my own but….I really don’t want to be alone.”

The red headed ace blinked, seeming surprised by your confession (that you were also totally going to blame on your cold later). He gave you a soft smile and sat back down on the couch. Pulling you into his arms so you were practically in his lap. “You could have just told me that.”

[beskarhearts]

re: you wanting one shot/blurb ideas: *chanting softly* domestic din, domestic din, domestic-

HOME (DIN DJARIN X READER)

Pairing: Din Djarin x AFAB!reader

Word count: over 1.9K

Warnings: very brief allusion to sexy time (I think that is it but let me know)

Summary: Sometimes home was a person, not just a place.

Notes: Just so you know, I completely ignored events of season 2 because I just wanted these 2 to be happy and we all deserve domestic Din. I hope you enjoyed it and let me know what you think!!

_____________________________

Home had seemed like such a foreign concept to both you and Din for so long. You were aware of its existence but it may as well had been the Force with how confusing of a thought it was to you two. The galaxy was a hard and tough place, one that seemed like you had to fight to get through each day. Din certainly had been handed the short end of the stick as well, having gone through more struggles and travesties than you could count on one hand. In a world that was so brutal and could sometimes be so cruel, how the hell were you to find a home in the midst of it?

But then for some reason, the universe aligned and you had met Din on a fateful day that changed the rest of the course of your life. It took awhile because of the walls you both had up and the lack of trust you had in humanity, but eventually you came to realize something. Sometimes home was a person, not just a place.

So for years you were content with Din, even if that meant living in the Crest with Grogu and traveling from place to place. You had him by your side and that was enough for you - enough for the rest of your life. You wouldn’t mind hopping from planet to planet as long as at the end of the day you could slip into a cot with Din, no matter how tiny or uncomfortable it may had been. And Din the same. Sure the Crest had been a sort of home to him considering how long he had it but it had never felt quite as bright until you were in it. Never had Din felt so settled and content until he felt the warm brush of your fingers against his hair and felt the wave you seemed to mold into his touch, like you were becoming one person. That was also when Din realized home could be a person.

That still didn’t stop you two from hoping though. You couldn’t bare to say it during the day but at night, when you two whispered sweet nothings to each other, you would also make grand plans of a home. Talk about how one day you two would settle down on a sparsely populated planet somewhere with Grogu. Find a small little house and take care of each other for the rest of your days until you were old. Maybe have a couple kids to fill the empty rooms with noise and happiness. You would talk of having a kitchen where you could make meals and teach Din how to cook, both of you eating something other than ration packs or broth on a daily basis. Find a place with some land so Din could step outside without his helmet with no fear and breath in some fresh air, while the child you had both come to love roamed around the tall grass. Din would speak of a bed - a proper bed - where you both could spread out as wide as you wanted (even though you both knew each night would end with you in each other’s arms, trying to get as close as heavenly possible). A place that could properly be decorated for holidays and special occasions, maybe even a big tree for a Life Day.

But all of those had seemed like simple dreams best to be spoken of in the warm confines of each other’s arms. Because things like that didn’t happen for people like you two.

Until they somehow did. Until somehow everything fell in line and you realized it was no longer a dream, but close enough to touch and grasp if you really wanted it. And hell, you both wanted it so badly. So when Din landed the Crest on a planet with warm air and fresh grass and flowers, he knew you would love it. It was meant to just be another pit stop until Din found an abandoned little house in the middle of this field and suddenly he realized everything he wanted was right in front of him. He could let you and the child settle down. You and him could relax and finally make the family you had discussed. It was sitting there right in front of him, like all the beautiful magical intricacies of the galaxy came together to form this perfect little sanctuary for you both.

Din had been so excited to show you that he quite literally ran to you, dragging you and the child with him in the most chipper mood you had ever seen the man. You had playfully teased him for his childlike behavior until your eyes landed on the small house and your heart melted. The look you have Din was not one you needed to explain because he had the same exact one. No words were spoken, no confirmation of what he wanted that place to be for you. You both knew and all you had to do was grab Din’s hand and walk him into the home for him to instantly decide to retire from his life and spend the rest of his days with you on a planet whose name he could barely remember.

The place had not been in the greatest shape. It was old and had clearly been abandoned for long enough that the place fell into a little disarray. But you and Din had certainly faced much worse so you didn’t allow it to scare you away. Instead Din worked on building furniture and fixing holes in the wall, a big smile on his face the whole time because he was constantly being hit with the realization of ‘this is what normal people do’. You had painted the walls with flowers like you could see outside the windows, filling it with more color than Din had ever seen in his life. And once the home was finally finished, equip with a functioning kitchen and the largest bed you had laid your eyes on, you and Din got married.

You could of traveled into the closest town and maybe found someone to officiate it for you, but that felt so conventional and unnecessary. You didn’t need another person to declare your love for each other and make it official. You had only ever needed each other so you both had as traditional of a Mandalorian wedding as you could, a bit difficult due to it being only you two and the very dapper flower boy that had been Grogu (who had managed to eat all the flowers and not throw a single one). Din wore his armor and you wore a small white dress you had made from a set of curtains but you both swore it was the most beautiful the other one had ever looked.

Shortly after you had gotten married, Din had begun to not-so-subtly, in fact very obviously, started dropping hints about kids. There would be times you were sitting on the couch and Din would look around before saying something like, "This house is a little big for just the three of us, don't you think?" Just the other day, Din had gone into the closest town for some supplies and came back not only with food and stuff you needed, but with a plethora of baby clothes that he all claimed were for Grogu (even though they were all obviously way too small for him).

You knew what Din was doing because it was the clearest thing in the world and you were on board. But watching Din drop the most obvious hints and slowly become more flustered the longer you pretended to be oblivious was hilarious to you. But eventually a dam broke and Din just grabbed you and marched towards the bedroom, very loudly stating that it was time to make some babies ASAP to which you responded with a fit of giggles.

And that led you to where you were now. Stood in the middle of your kitchen in your home, looking out the window where you admired the way the sun illuminated the flowers and trees. A warm cup of caf was clutched between your hands, the wonderful scent filling your nostrils as you held it close to your mouth. The home was silent, the child still asleep in his room and you had left Din to sleep in the bed while you snuck out.

The moment you felt a strong pair of arms wrap around your waist and pull you into a broad expanse of warmth, you let out a small content hum. Din's head nuzzled into your neck, his ruffled hair tickling your chin. "Mornin', cyar'ika." Din grumbled, his voice still laced with a type of sleep-drunk tone you adored. His voice in the morning was always your favorite - it seemed to amplify the gruffness and deepness his voice he usually had.

"Morning." you whispered back, feeling your heart flutter when a light kiss was pressed into your neck before he pulled away, grabbing a mug a caf for himself.

You admired his figure, eyes raking up and down in pure adoration. His hair was ruffled and messy from sleep, going in every which way. His eyes were still a little droopy and his whole body still sagged a little. He was wearing a shirt you had given him months ago, one that you were certain he found ridiculously ugly yet he claimed was his favorite because you chose it for him specifically. "Why are you up so early?"

"Wanted to watch the sunrise." you responded, your smile growing as he padded back over to you and planted a kiss on your forehead.

"You look beautiful."

You snorted, giving him a small lopsided smile. "I haven't even brushed my hair yet or washed my face. I am still crusty."

Din smiled, looking down at you with the warm brown eyes you had learned to love. "Well your crust is very sexy."

You threw your head back in laughter that time, shaking your head as he joined in with a slight chuckle. "Din, you are a horrible liar."

"I'm not lying. I love the morning crust. It's cute." he responded back, no hint of sarcasm in his voice but a slight twinkle in his eye.

"Shut up." you huffed, rolling your eyes playfully.

"Y'know, it is actually so sexy that we should probably-"

Din was cut off when the sound of cries began to fill the house, the noise coming straight from Grogu's room. You chuckled when an exasperated expression grew on his face and he placed his cup in your hand. "What were you saying, handsome?"

Din rolled his eyes as your sarcastic remark but you could still see the small quirk on the corner of his lip. "I'll go get him."

"You sure?" you asked.

"Yeah." Din mumbled, heading towards the door to Grogu's room slowly. He turned back to you once last time before opening the door. "Cyar'ika?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

You softly smiled. "I love you too."

Din smiled before opening the door to Grogu's room, slipping inside. Within a couple minutes, the crying died down and was replaced with soft cooing that filled your heart with warmth, accompanied by the sound of Din's soft voice as he spoke to the child. You placed the cups of caf on the counter and then made your way towards the room, thinking how this is exactly what home was supposed to feel like.