#sad caretaker

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

come rest your bones next to me ; satoru gojo, suguru geto

synopsis; satoru shares the first snowfall of the year with the two people he loves most. 

word count; 4.6k

contents; satoru gojo/reader/suguru geto (poly relationship!!), gn!reader, you're all whipped, reader referred to as spouse, fluff fluff fluff!!, sickeningly domestic, just comfy vibes all around, mostly from satoru’s pov, suguru has a favorite (its you) (but also not really he just likes bullying toru <3), satoru gojo may or may not have unresolved mommy issues

a/n; happy satosugu holidays to those who celebrate <33 geto died today isnt that crazy. dont u think its fucked up how love figuratively and literally killed him. anyway! help urself to two very whipped husbands <33

”holy shit!”

the raspy tilt of satoru’s voice echoes throughout the bedroom, stirring you from your comfortable slumber. a soft groan spills from suguru’s lips, deep and husky, as he pulls you closer into his embrace — smoothing a warm palm down the back of your head. trying to soothe you back to sleep, muttering under his breath.

”satoru, it’s too early for this...”

”it’s snowing!” said man continues, unperturbed. unmistakably giddy. he’s standing by the window, hands pressed flush against the cold glass; entirely entranced by the sight in front of his cerulean eyes. 

your eyelids begin to flutter. a tiny tug of your subconscious, a pang of something excited flowing through your veins, an alert to your sleepy brain.

(snowing.)

with groggy movements, you wriggle out of suguru’s grasp — a displeased grumble leaves his throat, almost a whine — allowing you to scramble out of bed. ”really?” you chirp, rubbing the sleep from beneath your eyes. a raspy, meek little voice spilling into the air.

satoru grins, watching you move closer, watching as a tiny gasp pushes past your lips. watching as your droopy eyes widen — brightening, glittering, starlight and snowflakes painted on the interior of your iris. a breathtaking sight, he thinks. 

maybe even more breathtaking than the winter wonderland reflected in it; beyond the pure opaque frosting of the window’s glass, out into your backyard, buried beneath a thick layer of snow. soft and fluffy, covering the city, suguru’s long-frozen tulip garden, the bare branches of your apricot tree. every roof in sight. all of it dyed a pure white, glittering in the light of a morning sun yet to fully rise, tiny snowflakes descending down to earth. 

it’s beautiful. 

satoru loves winter. he always has, he thinks. it comes to him as a memory — blurred at the edges, gleaming even still, the first time he saw those snowflakes up close. someone held him in their arms, he recalls. a warmth long faded. 

all he can properly remember is that sight. one that knocked the breath from out his tiny lungs, all glitter and something almost other-worldly, something frightening in its majesty. like it broke through a rift in the stratosphere. 

the first snow of the year.

and he’s loved it ever since; the soft crunch of snow beneath his feet, an air heavy with the scent of cinnamon and candied apples, bouts of laughter to be heard from faraway apartments. red and green glimmers of artificial light, sweet frosting on the christmas cake he would always gobble up alone in his room. the cold wind, nipping at his bare fingers — a reminder of his capacity for ache.

there are lots of things to love. lots of memories to cherish. and every single year, he gets the chance to make more.

like this; the light in your eyes, the smile on your face, the excitement in how hurriedly you turn to meet his giddy gaze. a nostalgic kind of joy simmering in the space between you.

and before either of you know it, satoru’s pulling you towards the hallway, intent on dragging you outside to see it all up close. almost tripping over his agumon plush, lying unassumingly on the floor, kicked off the bed once again. 

(probably by satoru himself, though he’ll always insist it was suguru’s doing. overcome by his jealousy, unable to stand the sight of his cute husband cuddling up to a plushie instead of him. satoru understands, he does — he feels the same when he sees you hug that 3’0 cat plushie of yours.

and, sure, maybe once or twice he’s been lucid enough to register the subconscious kick of his leg and agumon’s subsequent fall to the floor — but he’ll still blame suguru in the morning. if only to see the way said man rolls his eyes, clicks his tongue, maybe flicks his forehead if he’s lucky.)

high on the spirit of christmas, spurred on by childlike elation and sleep-deprivation, you stumble towards the door. satoru pulls one of his jackets over your shoulders, delighting in the way your hands don’t fully reach through the sleeves. wrapping you up in a cozy scarf when suguru shouts at you both to dress warmly, barely awake and already tired of your antics.

and the moment you step through the door, satoru is engulfed by it. that mystical, mystical feeling. 

a little lonely, a little too satisfying to pass up. a cold breeze that nips at his fingertips, snowflakes that brush against his cheeks and stick to his white lashes. a warm hand in his, as you cling to his side, shuddering — but smiling, as you look up at the sky, putting a hand out just to feel the snowflakes melt against the skin of your palm.

he feels you let go of him, but doesn’t mention it. a little too mesmerized to tug you back. dipping his toes into the bittersweet nostalgia of it all, staring at the flurry of white all around you, the skeletal branches of your apricot tree. suguru’s poor tulips. humming a jolly tune, subconsciously. a little delighted.

— until something cold and wet hits the exposed skin of his neck.

satoru twitches, a chilling shudder trickling down his spine. the snowball just thrown at him begins to melt, droplets sticking to his nape, and he turns to you with a raise of his brow. a devilish grin on his lips, when he hears your muffled laughter, sees the crinkle of your eyes.

(you’re cute, he thinks. but you need to be humbled.)

”oh, so that’s how you wanna play?” he drawls, eyes gleaming with amusement. taking a step forward, reaching down to gather some snow in his palm. a wide grin on his glossy lips. ”fine by me.” 

he's fast, but you act quickly, running towards the apricot tree with laughter in your throat. feeling the pitter patter of your heartbeat resound in your ears, as the snowball misses its mark by just a hair — and you waste no time in making your own.

it’s a hard-fought duel. snowfall blocking your vision, nerves beginning to numb, red cheeks and runny noses as you chase each other with giddy breaths. unfortunately for you, satoru’s arms are unfairly long, fingers unfairly nimble, and his stamina never even seems to falter.

so before long, your energy begins to dwindle. chest heaving, hands too cold to form a proper snowball, while your husband seems like he hasn’t even broken a sweat. they just keep on coming, snowball after snowball colliding with the fabric of your jacket, and when one of them hits your collarbone you squeal — falling backwards, right into a fresh pile of snow.

satoru moves forward, a triumphant smirk on his handsome face. you’re out of breath, and your hands are red, and he’s fairly certain you’re gonna catch a cold. suguru’s going to scold him, but right now all he can think of is you. the frown you’re wearing, the little huff that slips from your lips.

”ready to admit defeat, sweetheart?” he practically purrs, standing above you with his hands on his hips. smug. and you grin right back.

”never.”

a hum. something glimmers in his eyes, a devious little glint, and you come to regret your decision when satoru gathers a heap of snow with his overgrown arms; only to drop it all on top of you. too tired to fight back, all you can do is shield your face, silently accepting your fate.

a shiver wracks through your body, and satoru almost feels bad. just a tiny bit. but then you finally relent, murmuring bitterly under your breath. ”fine, fine…” a soft pout forms on your lips. ”you win.”

and satoru smiles. crouching down to meet you at eye level, on his knees in front of you. there’s a teasing mirth in his eyes, when he reaches out to cup the fat of your cheek. ”that’s all i wanted to hear, sweet pea,” he drawls, trying not to giggle when you exaggeratedly roll your eyes.

his voice curls down an octave when he continues, leaning forward to brush his nose against yours. hot breath against your chilled skin. ”now, for my prize…”

his lips meet yours, sweet and chaste — a little cheeky. you scoff into the kiss, but satoru’s smile only grows. honeyed, a little bit adoring. his tongue flits out to lick at your cold bottom lip.

he lingers, for a bit. like he’s trying to savour the way you taste, faded strawberry chapstick sticking to his lips, smudged against your own. and you sigh, softly, melting a little, comforted by the fleeting warmth that blossoms on your face. 

when he's finally satisfied, having dragged his prize out to its completion, satoru helps you up. brushing snowflakes off your jacket, cradling your ice-cold hands in his. they’re not faring much better, but a worried tug of his heartstrings compels him to warm you up. bringing them to his lips, hot breath fanning over your skin, tender little kisses against the knots of your knuckles.

you can’t help but blush, and a raspy chuckle flows from out his lips. 

hazy morning sunshine licks at the branches of the apricot tree behind you, illuminating the contours of your face, the shine of his eyes. a blue smudge on a canvas painted white and gray. the air smells of pine cones and something smokey, crisp. it courses through his burning lungs when he inhales, exhales, a breath of vapour that scatters up into the sky.

satoru loves winter. always has. but now, he’s certain he loves it even more.

because now, he has two people to share it with. two people to drag out into the snow, two people whose hands he can tenderly warm up, two people who’ll laugh and sigh at his antics and still indulge him. two people to pelt with snowballs. 

what more could a man want?

”hey, idiots!” 

the voice that echoes throughout the air is exasperated, a little teasing. yet fond. suguru’s got his hair tied into a messy half done bun, black turtleneck sweater enunciating his broad chest and the curve of his waist. there’s a fatigue in his eyes, the creases of his face, but a lazy smile is playing at his lips.

”i’m making breakfast,” he shouts, voice deep and smokey and soft even still. ”come in and warm up before you catch a cold.”

”is that any way to speak to your husband and spouse?” satoru chimes back, a melodic lilt to his sugarsweet voice. something satisfied. pleased.

suguru shoots him an unimpressed look, but his eyes soften. melting a little, at the words that spill from satoru’s lips, as if they were always meant to be there. 

(husband. spouse. suguru wills himself not to smile.)

with matching grins on your faces, the two of you stumble back towards the door. snow crunching beneath your feet, a happy noise pushing past your lips when you collide with the warmth of your husband’s chest.

”look, suguru. isn’t it pretty?” you chirp, smiling brightly. an expression he mirrors — brushing some snow from the top of your head, warm palms caressing your cold skin, setting a mental reminder to scold satoru later. sparing a brief glance at the snowy veil over reality.

then he exhales. a fond hum. ”it is.”

satoru joins you both by the door, stretching out his lanky limbs. tousled hair, wet strands sticking to his skin, reddened cheeks and a signature pout. ”suguru, my hands are cold,” he whines. ”warm ’em up for me?”

a click of his tongue. ”should’ve put some gloves on, satoru.”

a hum buzzes in your throat, and you put your hands out. itchy, a little dry. a sad frown tugs at your lips when you speak. ”my hands are also cold.”

and, like clockwork, suguru’s eyes soften. a coo tiptoeing on his tongue, engulfing your hands in his larger ones. ”aw, c’mere, my love…” his breath fans over your frozen fingertips. ”let’s get you warmed up, hm?”

satoru gasps, a hand on his chest, and you stifle a giggle. he’s acting, you both know, being a little drama queen. he knows you’re just exaggerating suguru’s double standard as a bit, that your husband would probably set himself on fire to warm either of you up.

despite that, his voice comes out thoroughly offended. ”oh, i see how it is,” he huffs, walking past the both of you. pouting deeply. ”you hate me. you hate me, and you want me to die. i understand.”

”satoru,” you coo. he hmphs, but stills, waiting for you to wrap your arms around him. and you do — a little too eager to appease your giant baby of a husband.

”we’re just joking around,” you assure him, holding back a humorous chuckle. squeezing his waist with palpable fondness. ”love you sooo much. you know that.”

satoru stays silent. but he cranes his neck, to meet suguru’s gaze, standing just behind him. narrowing his cobalt eyes — a meaningful look.

suguru sighs.

”yes, yes. we love you oh so much.” he takes a step forward, ruffling the white head of hair by the door. a lazy smile on his lips. ”now behave and go change out of your pyjamas. they’re soaked.”

his voice is teasing. exasperated, more than a little condescending. but it’s suguru, so satoru accepts it — following you both into the warmth of your home. the scent of cinnamon and vanilla hangs heavy in the air, a hint of espresso and firewood, lulling him into a sweet state of tranquility. rich with comfort, safety.

he changes out of his wet clothes, pulling a black hoodie over his head before waltzing into the kitchen. and you do the same, emerging from your bedroom in one of suguru’s cozy sweaters, knitted and smelling of bergamot. 

when suguru notices, his gaze shifts into something fond. palpable. a look satoru always finds in the scope of those warm eyes, amber and cedar bleeding into something sweet, only ever directed at the two of you. a look said man assumes goes unnoticed. he’s not as slick as he thinks.

the kitchen simmers with hazy sunlight and gentle movements, something sleepy and kind. satoru is a little bit enamored with it; from bowls of cat food by the corner, to camellias by the windowsill, cookie jars and dried lemon slices, the fading scent of baked goods and wishlists stuck to the fridge.

(yours and satoru’s are filled with scribbles, new ideas popping up daily, while suguru’s is almost entirely blank; mostly necessities, one or two things he’d like for himself.

and then, of course, the same thing he writes at the top of his wishlist every year; some peace and quiet.)

suguru shuffles around the kitchen, long strands of black hair cascading down his back, swaying with his movements. he sends you both an affectionate glance when you step in, already in the process of making satoru his cup of hot chocolate — topped with marshmallows and whipped cream, colorful sprinkles in the shape of tiny stars, a touch of cinnamon. satoru licks his lips.

when it's finished, the cup is promptly handed to him, paired with a tender kiss to his forehead. and suguru starts the meticulous brewing of your coffee, steady hands, finely chosen coffee beans, the low purring of the espresso machine. soothing.

that’s when you attach yourself to his back. wrapping your arms around his waist, a sleepy yawn muffled into the fabric of his turtleneck. he places a big palm on your hand, thumb smoothing over your knuckle, and you nuzzle into him silently. suguru smiles.

”still sleepy, baby?” he questions, a coo on the tip of his tongue. his voice is soft, palpably so, buzzing with warmth and safety and something that makes you want to stay cuddled up to him forever.

satoru senses an opportunity to insert himself into the conversation, and forces out a yawn of his own. stretching his limbs like a big cat, blinking drowsily, eyelashes fluttering. hoping it’ll come off as endearing. ”mhm.” 

but suguru shoots him an unimpressed look. ”not you,” he tuts, patting your arm, ”this baby. i wasn’t asking you.”

a pout. ”why are you so mean to me?” he whines, shooting you a doe-eyed look. bottom lip jutting out slightly, a feigned glassiness to his eyes. ”sweetie, tell your husband to stop being so mean to me.”

you smile. indulgent, as always. ”don't be so mean to him, suguru. you know he’s sensitive.”

a sigh. deep, tinged with exhaustion. satoru shares an amused look with you — stifling a shared chuckle at suguru’s exasperation.

and suddenly, he feels something warm flutter in his ribcage. a sunkissed butterfly, wings brushing against his ribs, coaxing his lips into curling up. unmistakable fondness, almost too much to bear. the need to reach out and touch you creeps up on him, a hunger he can’t deny, but he holds back; you look comfy like that, curled up against suguru’s spine. so he only inches closer, without a word. 

his husband casts him a glance, but satoru stays silent. lips pursed, waiting for something. patient.

and suguru relents. he reaches a hand out, to tuck a stray strand of white hair behind his ear — an excuse to touch him. a silent apology. 

(i'm sorry, you big baby.)

satoru grins.

you shift from foot to foot, leaning over to see what suguru is doing, pressing buttons and taking two ceramic cups out from a wall cabinet. your eyes zero in on a particular shelf, narrowing in suspicion, before flitting over to meet your husband’s gaze.

”satoru, did you use up all my peppermint sweeteners again?”

he stiffens. just a tad, before swallowing a gulp — followed by a silly chuckle, sheepish and performative, eager to wiggle his way out of your cold gaze. ”… which sweeteners do you mean, honey?”

”don’t pull the ’honey’ card.”

”and don’t play dumb, either.”

a pout crosses his lips. betrayed. ”suguru, who’s side are you even on?”

said man gives him a look. that one look, characteristically suguru, the same one he always sends satoru’s way. one so thoroughly unimpressed it makes him feel like the world’s biggest clown. 

and satoru plays along. your dutiful, beloved clown, his posture wilting like a sad flower. suguru exhales through his nose.

”don’t steal their sweeteners.” he smooths a thumb over your knuckle, absentminded, meeting the cold metal of the ring on your finger. smiling a little at the sensation. ”buy your own.”

satoru huffs, drawn out and childish. crossing his arms, leaning against the kitchen counter. ”ah, i see how it is. leaving your sweet husband to buy his own sweeteners?” he clicks his tongue. ”chivalry is dead.”

you bite back a little chuckle — satoru recognizes the cute noise you make when you do — and suguru rolls his eyes. fondly, always. ”remind me next time i go to the store and i’ll consider it.”

”hmph.”

suguru is smiling. it’s small, but genuine, worth a thousand words. and you are, too, the vague crinkle of your eyes giving you away. even as you bury your face in the curve of suguru’s back.

and ah, satoru thinks. there it is again. 

that sickeningly sweet sense of deja vu; the sensation of a certain something flourishing deep inside his chest. warming him up, trickling through his frost-bitten veins. that one little itch he never manages to satisfy, that never goes away, something that took root inside his heart years ago — watered by the sweet looks on your faces.

this everyday slice of heaven, right in front of him, that he’s been greedily partaking in ever since he moved in with you. since he married you.

(married.)

sometimes he still can’t believe it. 

”it’ll be done in a minute,” suguru hums, and satoru blinks. broken out of his syrupy stupor. ”you two go wait by the kotatsu, okay? must be cold, poor babies.” 

and, as always, his voice is a little teasing. a tiny bit condescending, if you really strain your ears, in typical suguru fashion. but it’s laced with a touch of sweetness; one that would be too much for either of you to stomach, if it were to drip out of his lips with nothing to water it down. so satoru accepts it. welcomes it, even.

and you follow his suggestion. making your way towards the living room, satoru trailing behind you, continuously enamored by every little thing he sees. every little piece of the home you’ve built for yourselves.

your living room is cozy. several potted plants seated here and there, a thick quilt to cover the kotatsu, a bowl of satsumas on top of it. a sleepy cat on your couch, golden sunshine ruffling her fur. a santa hat lies beside her, and satoru snags it without much thought. pulling it over his head.

his gaze shifts to the christmas tree over in the corner, eyes filling with a childlike kind of wonder. it’s decorated to completion, weighed down by colourful ornaments and lights, a star at the very top. suguru cut it himself, bringing the biggest and prettiest one he could find back home.

(satoru had gone with him. partially to help carry it back, mostly to get a glimpse of suguru's biceps flexing with the swing of the axe. he’s a simple man.)

and beneath it, presents are already beginning to pile up. carefully wrapped, in bows and silken paper, growing more each day. shattering suguru’s hopes of maybe having a more lowkey christmas this year — but satoru couldn’t be more relieved. this is the only time of year you let him get away with pampering you both to his heart’s content.

a smile blooms on his lips. he plops down on the floor, crossing his legs, right as suguru walks in with a coffee pot in hand. their gazes overlapping.

and something mischievous begins to brew within the blue of his eyes, something that makes suguru narrow his own. satoru pats his thigh, twice, a coo on the tip of his tongue. santa hat sitting pointedly on top of his head, fluffing up his hair.

”c’mere, suguru! sit on santa’s lap.”

”— you’re disgusting.”

the words are playful, but a pout still slips into the curve of satoru’s lips, and he huffs out a displeased little breath. his husband pretends not to hear it, so satoru turns to you — sitting so prettily to his right, already anticipating his next move. puppy dog eyes on full display, he gives you a soft tilt of his head, snowy tufts of hair falling over his eyes.

and you sigh, in what he knows is resignation. his faux pout turning into a satisfied grin.

you curl up in satoru’s lap without much of a fuss, letting him circle his arms around you. an indulgent smile rests on your lips, but he knows you love this; his broad chest against your back, the heat of the kotatsu warming your feet. breathing in the fading scent of your shampoo, he leaves a peck on the sensitive spot right behind your ear, and you try not to shudder.

then satoru smiles. squeezing you, lightly, sweetly, eyes rich with honeyed affection. voice dripping with playful endearment. ”there we go,” he coos. ”what does my angel want for christmas, hm?” 

”i want you to stop stealing my peppermint sweeteners,” comes your answer. instantaneous.

silence fills the room. a moment passes. outside your frosted windows, a bird takes flight from the branches of your apricot tree. and satoru clicks his tongue.

”… santa can only do so much, baby.”

two deep scoffs fill the air, heavy and bemused. one from you, one from suguru. satoru only giggles.

”just kidding!” he chirps, planting a kiss on the top of your head. ”don’t you worry. santa’ll give you all the peppermint sweeteners you could ever want.” 

you raise a brow, exhaling amusedly. craning your head to meet his gaze. ”and he won’t end up using them all himself?”

”of course not! blasphemy.” 

a moment passes.

”… maybe one or two. as a treat.”

a string of protests slips from your lips, and satoru tries not to burst into a fit of giggles. suguru just watches, silently, smiling lightly as he pours hot coffee into two ceramic cups. steam wafting up to the ceiling, a cat jumping down from the couch to curl up in his lap. he places one in front of you, not taking a single sip of his own until he hears you hum blissfully at the taste — pink lips against white ceramic. a bitter taste on his tongue, sweetened by your approval.

then he starts peeling three satsumas, absentmindedly, and satoru swallows down the love-ridden honey choking up the back of his throat. pretending the domesticity of such a simple action doesn’t melt his heart down to the marrow. 

he turns his attention towards the window. frost sticking to the glass like spider-woven webs, soon to be melted by the glow of the mellow winter sunrays. flitting in through the curtains, cascading over the room, splattering across the floorboards. framing the hue of your hair, the smile on suguru’s lips.

and a memory comes to him. sudden, hazy, faded at the edges. ghosting his subconscious.

he remembers the frost, the biting wind, the frightening majesty of the snow that fell that day. breaking into his world through a rift in the stratosphere. he remembers the contrasting warmth of the person who held him, who cradled him close; the soft lull of a woman’s voice. 

for a moment, satoru thinks he can almost, almost see it before him. hear those gentle words, see her tired smile. why was she always so tired?

(look, satoru. isn’t it pretty?)

— he can’t recall how it sounded. if it was melodic and soft, or raspy and broken, happy or sad. but he does recall that it made him feel safe. safe enough to find comfort in a sight so other-worldly, so very foreign.

it should’ve been frightening, but it wasn’t. the first snowfall satoru ever saw knocked the breath from out his lungs, stole his heart with cold hands, left him with a suffocating nostalgia. but the memory is precious.

and now, he feels that sense of other-worldliness in this; a kotatsu for three, a warm house, peeled satsumas and promises of a christmas cake soon to be baked. one lovely spouse in his lap, the other gazing at him with that fond look he always assumes goes unnoticed. a cocoon of safety — a ghost he doesn’t need to chase anymore.

warmth. enough warmth to make up for the snow and frost outside your home, all the experiences he missed out on as a child. warmth, warmth, warmth. funny, how that happens to be satoru’s favorite thing about winter. 

he looks at the two of you, hoping you won’t pay any mind to his silence. for once, he hopes you’ll stay wrapped up in your awful, awful coffee, so bitter that just looking at it makes his throat feel dry. just so he can get away with admiring you for a little longer. from the contours of suguru’s face, to the skin of your collarbone, to the rings on your fingers. ones he put there himself. 

and ah, satoru thinks, there it is again. again and again, as always, forever. that warm, warm feeling flourishing in the depths of his chest. 

he hopes it never goes away.

#genuinely fucked up that suguru geto isnt in my kitchen rn </3 #i just think sugu is such a caretaker. makes u breakfast and peels ur satsumas w/o u even asking. bc it makes him happy :’3 hes so Mother #i think he lowkey gets just a little bit uncomfortable when u or gojo try to do the same for him… he likes doting on u #but obv he deserves to be pampered too!! just gotta ease him into it #and i think gojo has a hole in his heart where love should be. bc he wasnt given enough as a child #im not sure what to think when it comes to his parents (since we know literally nothing abt them) but... #the idea of him finding some comfort in the memory of his mom…. maybe not realizing that he misses her…..… i think its very sad. and good. #listened to ricky montgomery while writing this i think it mightve healed me #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo x reader #geto x reader #geto x reader x gojo #gojo fluff #geto fluff #satosugu x reader #satosugu x you #satosugu x y/n #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #……… thats… a lot of tags.

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 126

You know what would be hilarious? 

Constantine comes into one of those meetings as he sometimes does every blue moon. Though the proper word would be storms into a meeting and practically slams a whole stack of papers down. “Can someone bloody explain to me why the American-fucking-government is trying to go to war with the fucking Infinite Realms?!” 

The Justice League is of course alarmed and confused- and also John weren’t you in Hell?! Yeah, he was, where the fuck do you think he found out about this? 

Now if you’ll excuse him he’s going back to the House of Mysteries with his now haunted trench coat. John, John Constantine what the fuck do you mean by that? No don’t just leave, don’t leave this mess just for them- JOHN! 

#dpxdc #dcxdp #prompts #John: Trenchcoats haunted #JL: What #John as a giggle comes out from beneath his coat: Trenchcoats haunted #John got a get out of hell free card via Clockwork seeing an Opportunity for good timeline #And hey his favorite ghostlings also get a mentor now #John: I did not ask for 5+ children #Clockwork: Too bad you’re now their human caretaker have fun #The GIW were getting Bad #Like bad enough Sam and Tucker are practically full ghost now #Team Phantom pointing at the skrunkly sad trenchcoat man: New Dad Acquired #Constantine in Hell: What #Clockwork: Hello new son here are papers with proof of everything and can you tell the speedsters to stop thanks #Constantine now out of Hell: W h a t

[findafight]

Steve shows up to work one day with a baby bjorn complete with sleeping baby on his chest and Robin is like Steve....what the fuck?

And Steve says "I would've called you last night but she'd only stop crying when I held her and my parents were fighting, obviously, and I had to figure out how to make her bottle then I fell asleep with her on top of me and I think my dad legitimately forgot about us even though this is his fault, and there's no one to take care of her so I had to bring her. Sorry."

That is a lot and answers very few of Robin's questions.

"who...is she?"

Steve brightens and smiles down at the baby who's tiny baby fist is scrunched up in his work vest. "Oh! My half sister. Her mom works for one of my dad's business partners and brought her to my parents while they were away last week so they came home, mostly to dump her off on a nanny they forgot to hire--hence my baby holder here--and fight. Turns out dad cheating is easier to ignore when there isn't actual proof of it."

"oh. Woah."

"yeah. Anyways, ready to rewind some tapes?"

So they start work Steve logging returns into the computer and cupping the baby whose name I don't know yet's head. Then the little baby wakes up, making little baby noises, and Robin is not one for babies really, but Steve coos and picks her hand off his chest and waves it at Robin.

"see, that's your auntie Robin! Say hiii auntie Robin!"

The baby chews her tongue at Robin and blows a spit bubble.

And how is Robin supposed to not be charmed by that?

"awww," she says, letting the baby grab her finger, "yeah, I'm your auntie Robin. Your big brother's gonna take care of you so good huh? You'll know your way around retail in no time."

Steve giggles.

It is then that The Gremlins decide to show up and Cause Noise. Baby sister starts to cry and Steve takes her to the back to get her to calm down and change her, comes out (ignores the party's questions. Giving them Ultimate Mom Pose with Bonus Effect of Baby) hands her to Robin who is a little nervous but she will not let her new niece (?) Down, and goes back to find and heat up a bottle.

Eddie, who drove the gremlins and was looking for something in his van comes in, sees Robin holding the baby and is like huh? What's this?

And then Steve comes out with a bottle and a baby blanket over his shoulder, reaches for the baby from Robin and tries to get her to latch on the bottle with quiet words and gentle hands and Eddie is not okay he's not fine he's having a melt down because Steve with the kids is one thing but Steve with a Baby is something very different and he should not be expected to keep it together seeing this

Part 2.

Part 3

#steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #platonic stobin #steddie #accidental baby acquisition #listen. his mum doesnt trust his dad. steve deserves a sibling out of that. eddie is just trying to cope #big brother steve #Robin gets to be an auntie bc you KNOW steves raising that sibling. hes like ohhhh if i dont then she will never Be Held just like me... #and so congrats steve! youre a brother/dad! #finda writes stuff #finda's rambles #also note from 2hr post posting: ive decided that she calls steve bubba bc robin calls steve that when he is Especially Sad #and bc steve is baby's main caretaker she latches onto it as hes not her dad or mum but he IS bubba #im aware its usually for little brothers but its also used as 'pal' or 'buddy' and i think robin would call him it affectionately #when bc its Soft. baby gets Soft Steve all the time thats her Bubba!! #also aware its mostly souther but not exclusively!! steve is bubba now to his 4mo sister ok

[echoingalaxies]

Whumpee is dying, nothing can stop it anymore. Instead of a goodbye - when Whumpee closes their eyes for the last time, when they take their final breaths, when their hand in Caretaker's goes limp - Caretaker whispers "good night."

#“good night *nickname*” OUCH #it's so soft and so sad #character death #tw death #dying whumpee #whump prompt #whump prompts #whump scenario #whump trope #whump tropes #whump #whumpee x caretaker #emotional whump

[fandomunsexyman]

SVSSS is a novel with a fandom.

[ID: A Scum Villain edit of the "missing the point" meme. A bullet arcs from velinxi art of child Shen Jiu kneeling while furiously glaring. The bullet says, "People are not entirely one thing or the other and holding them to these extremes ignores the complexities that come with their humanity." It arcs over the head of a person across from it, who ignores the bullet and exclaims: "Wow!! Shen Jiu's only crime was being mean and was wrongly hated!" End ID]

#i have so many thoughts about him but he is SO mischaracterized in a lot of fics #like just 'he would not fucking say that' on repeat #because shen jiu's entire thing is that he was CANONICALLY a terrible person #yes his backstory was sad but that doesn't make him Suddenly Good #shen qingqiu is an incredibly complex character but can y'all not pretend that his only flaw is being mean #like shen jiu failed original luo binghe in every way #as his caretaker as an adult in his life on EVERY level #'the tea had healing medicine in it!!' no it did not #shen jiu poured boiling hot tea on a child as a grown man because he was jealous. of said child. #like the entire POINT of his secret backstory was to showcase his complexity!! #and to see so much fandom stuff that's just Shen Yuan in the Opposite Direction is Hm #like he's fun to analyze but let's not pretend that he wasn't a terrible fucking person #while I'm ranting shen jiu would not casually talk about his trauma either #shen jiu's entire thing WAS appearances and even post character arc i think he'd struggle to open up to others #so like NOOOO he would not just tell someone something terrible that happened to him in his past #he'd rather die #okay rant over but this phenomenon is just SO frustrating to me #svsss #shen jiu #scum villian's self saving system #original shen qingqiu

[reid-whump]

Stubborn/Protective Caretaking Prompts

“Whumpee, where are those scars from?”

“You can take as long as you need, but I’m not leaving. Understand?”

“Leave them alone.”

“Don’t touch them!”

“Do you normally get nightmares like that?”

“I’ve never seen you act like that before…”

“I know how much this hurts, and i need you to understand that it’s okay to be affected by something like this, whumpee.”

“Crying has health benefits, i know, but I hate seeing you like this.”

“There was nothing you could have done to change your situation, don’t you understand that??”

“I don’t recognise you anymore.” “Well neither do i”

“You are never alone as long as I’m with you.”

“This is who i am now!” “Whumpee, it doesn’t have to be…” “but it is anyway!!”

“You can still be a good person whumpee, like you were before.” “I will never be the same person I was before.”

“You know, we used to be inseparable. I miss the way we were.”

#whump prompts #captive whump #caretaker x whumpee #moreid #writing prompt #dialogue prompt #stubborn #protective caretaker #caretaker #whump aftermath #writing prompts #sad writing #angst prompts

[haunted-xander]

tfw ur parental figures are all too busy being evil cult members to parent (or even greet you)

#the introductory scene for lexaeus & zexion in com is kinda funny (and sad) when u realize its basically #zex just trying to say hi to his dad/bodyguard/partial-caretaker/familial adult #just to be COMPLETELY ignored like LEX YOURE (one of) HIS CARETAKER(s) #poor zexion. he has so many dads but when all of them are in the same evil cult as u i guess that kinda puts a damper on things #(im joking but this scene is actually pretty sad when u think about zexions life for too long) #(but that goes for a lot of things about zexion/ienzo tbh) #(poor guy) #zexion #lexaeus #vexen #kingdom hearts #kingdom hearts chain of memories #kh #kh com #art #my art #xanders art #digital art #fan art

[whumpingandsmilinglikeanidiot]

Caretakers that go

um

you're sad, I don't

what should I do

what should I do oh god I'm terrible at comforting people but

hey uh

wanna have some candy??

oh no why are you crying

I'm sorry please don't cry

oh okay um you're welcome

do you want some more??

#based off of me ig #the caretaker is bad at emotional communication and even worse in comforting people #they have messed things up many times #and they're very scared to try anything #but whumpee is so sad! they have to do something! #and I personally think this is so cute #bonus points if caretaker actually learns how to do that kind of thing after the whole ordeal #relationships that compliments each other #whump #whumpee #caretaker #whump prompt #whump prompts #whump idea #whump ideas #recovery whump #awkward caretaker

[chrrywvea]

[slider is filming]

*to the camera*

iceman: okay, ready? today i'll show you how to care of a sad person

*he walks over to the couch where mav is curled up, & begins laying out a blanket*

iceman: you get your blanket, and pick up your ball of depression...

*picks up mav*

iceman: lay them on the blanket and...

*mav yelps when ice starts to roll him up*

iceman: you get your own sushi roll!

iceman: now you place them somewhere comfortable and get your supplies...

*dumps mav back onto the couch & returns with snacks and drinks*

iceman: you hug your roll close and watch a movie that the roll enjoys

*starts mean girls, meanwhile slider is one laugh away from passing out*

iceman: now this part is important! you feed and hydrate the roll, because tears leave the roll dehydrated.

*mav blushing heavily, hiding in ice's side while he gets his share of chips*

iceman, smiling at the camera: there we go, a happy roll!

[ slider can't help the sappy grin on his face, their little pilot buddy all tiny & wide eyes peeking over the blanket is just adorable ]

---------------------------------------------------

inspired by the happy sushi roll meme i just found again:-D

#tom iceman kazansky #pete maverick mitchell #top gun #top gun maverick #ron slider kerner #wingmen #icemav #sad mav gets aaaall the love♡ #ice's expert field: maverick caretaking 101 #slider is enjoying all of it greatly:-D

[fellhellion]

I’ve been going insane about him for like two weeks straight, but I need to revise my thoughts on the baby hold after realising that timeline wise there’s no way Miguel held Gabriella at an age young enough to practice it. He just caught Mayday like that instinctively. What if I ran through glass doors.

#that one person’s post who said it’s a great way of showing us he’s a caretaker I’m sorry for doubting u #I just thought it was gonna be dad experience #no he just DOES that #tunes talks spiderverse #I’m sad in an entirely new direction now #miguel o'hara

[bultaoreunheyyy]

Honey Bunny

Title: Honey Bunny

Word Count: 4221

Summary: It happens to him every year like clockwork, for just a few days around the beginning of spring when his pollen allergies start to act up and he decides to do some spring cleaning, forgetting that between all of the dust he inevitably kicks up inside of the house coupled with the blooming flowers and trees outside of the house will send him into a week of allergic misery.

Sickie: Taehyung (snz/allergies)

Caretakers: Jimin (platonic), Jungkook (romantic)

A/N: There is some slight sadness in this one (Jungkook is sad but he gets comfort and cuddles) and idk man, I was gonna do only a little drabble for this poll but then it turned out a bit longer and it turned into this this sooo. yeah. enjoy?

The late afternoon sun is shining brightly outside.

Taehyung knows this, despite the fact that he’s inside and curled up in his bed suffering miserably, because he can see it; from the small space between his window curtains, where they’re open just a little, there’s a bright beam of light shining through that’s aimed directly at the foot of his bed. 

More notably, Taehyung can see all of the teeny tiny little dust particles that are illuminated by said sunshine-beam of light, swirling in the air as they dance around his bed and tease him mercilessly, infiltrating his sinuses and torturing him–

hh–!

–torturing him endlessly with their irritating– 

hhhHH!

–ticklish existence, and–  

“HHHHRESH!”

Oh, the sneezing. Taehyung is so tired of sneezing. Taehyung is so, so tired of his nose tickling. Taehyung is so, so, so very tired of how awful his poor nose feels no matter how gently he tries to tend to it. It doesn’t matter if he uses the soft, silken handkerchief his beautiful boyfriend had bought for him or if he scrubs harshly at his nose with a fist, because both do nothing to alleviate the tickle and both only make his nose feel sore and raw.

It happens to him every year like clockwork, for just a few days around the beginning of spring when his pollen allergies start to act up and he decides to do some spring cleaning, forgetting that between all of the dust he inevitably kicks up inside of the house coupled with the blooming flowers and trees outside of the house will send him into a week of allergic misery. Really, he brought this on himself, but that doesn’t mean he’s not gonna lie in bed sulking as he sneezes his head off, feeling sorry for himself. 

“hhhhAAASHCH!”

He’s just very ready to be done with the sneezing part.

If he has any luck, the allergy medicine he took thirty minutes ago will kick in soon and knock him out for a few hours. Taking his handkerchief and dabbing at his tender nostrils, Taehyung rolls onto his back and tries to take in as deep of a breath as his congested airways will allow. He closes his eyes and lets his mouth fall open, breathing noisily through his mouth in an attempt to avoid taking in any air through his nose knowing that it will only trigger another sneeze.

He hears the apartment door open, and he opens his eyes in confusion– had he fallen asleep just now? It seems far too early for Jungkook to be home already, although wouldn’t complain about getting to see his boyfriend sooner than expected. 

“Kookie?” He croaks out hopefully. “Is that you?”

But it isn’t Jungkook who appears in the doorway of his bedroom. 

It’s his best friend Jimin, and the man frowns instantly when he sees Taehyung sniffling pathetically in bed. 

“Oh, you poor thing,” he cries, rushing over to Taehyung. “You look just awful, Tae.” 

“I know,” Taehyung agrees. He doesn’t even have it in him to be offended by Jimin’s observation. He knows that he looks like complete shit right now. He scrambles to sweep all of the crumpled up tissues that litter his bedspread off to the side or onto the floor.

Jimin, not even batting an eye at the mess, climbs into the bed and sits with his back against the headboard, and Taehyung scoots over to allow him more room. 

“If I had not spent the past ten spring seasons with you, I would think you have the flu right now,” Jimin continues, listening to Taehyung’s congested breathing and taking in the redness of his eyes and nose. He reaches out and brushes the tip of his thumb beneath Taehyung’s eyes, where there are dark circles, the skin puffy and swollen.

When he moves the tips of his fingers down to Taehyung’s nose, however, Taehyung’s face screws up, and he shakes his head frantically, jerking away.  

“Ohh– oh no– watch m-my nose, Jimin-hhh! hnghUHH! uhhh-HHHAAHH’SHUH!”

The first thunderous sneeze is quickly followed by a second, and then a third, each one preceded by a desperate, gasping breath. 

“iehh– HAASHCH! ehh-hhhHHH– hhh-AASH’TCH!” 

“Bless you!” Jimin locates the tissue box, which is nearly empty, and plucks out a tissue for his friend. 

While Taehyung wipes his streaming eyes and blows his nose, Jimin pets his hair soothingly. “Jungkook had to stay late. He wanted me to come check on you because he said you weren’t feeling well.” 

Taehyung sniffles. “What? Why does he have to stay late? Did he pick up another shift? Ugh, who called in?” He frowns and rubs a finger under his nose. “He said he wasn’t gonna pick up doubles anymore.”

Jimin hesitates, looking down at the bedspread and tracing the pattern with his thumb. “He didn’t pick up an extra shift, but he’ll be at the hospital for a couple of hours after he’s supposed to be off. He stayed with someone while they…They didn’t have any family members there with them, so…”

“Oh, no.” Tears spring to Taehyung’s eyes when he understands what Jimin is telling him. “Oh, no. Poor Jungkookie. My bunny is going to need me! Oh, why did I take the medication that makes me drowsy?”

“He’s gonna be fine, Tae,” Jimin rushes to reassure him. “He’s gonna need some extra hugs, yes. But he said he’s exhausted and he just wants to sleep when he gets home. It’s you he’s worried about.” 

Taehyung shakes his head. “I’m fine. All I’ve been doing today is lying in bed and– a-and…”

Jimin passes him another tissue.

“hh-HHHRESH!”

Jimin raises an eyebrow. “Yes, you are completely fine.” He sighs. “Jungkook told me you decided to vacuum and dust on the same day. What on earth were you thinking, Tae?” 

Taehyung pouts through a trumpeting nose blow. “I was thinking that my bunny deserves to come home to a nice clean house after he works a twelve hour shift,” he replies. 

“Oh, your voice is starting to go,” Jimin tuts. “You need to rest some more. What can I get you before you take a nap?”

“Wait.” Taehyung sniffs, dragging the heel up his hand against his nostrils in an upward motion. “So you’re really not here to kick my ass out of bed?”

“No, love, absolutely not. You’re clearly not feeling well!” 

Jimin stands and cleans up the new pile of used tissues that’s been created since he arrived, gathering them up with the others on the floor before tossing the entire armful into the trash. Taehyung yawns while he cleans, finally feeling the effects of his medicine working. 

“Wish I could give my poor bun hugs and kisses right now,” he murmurs sleepily, sniffling. 

“He’ll be home soon enough,” Jimin assures him. “Scoot over a bit more. I’ll cuddle with you until you fall asleep.”

As soon as Jimin has him wrapped up in his arms, Taehyung starts to squirm. His nose hates him. It’s torturing him, trying to disrupt his best friend cuddle time and he tries to fight it as long as he can, tries to rub the tickle away from his sinuses, scrunches up his face and shakes his head back and forth and–   

Jimin suddenly lifts his head and looks down at him. “Go on and sneeze, already,” he snaps. Then, more gently, handing him a tissue with a sigh, “Get it all out.” 

And Taehyung does.

“AAAASHH!”

He sneezes.

“hhh-AHHHHSCH! HAAASSH-uh! UHHDSH-ehh!”

He sneezes some more, eyes and nose streaming, nostrils itching and twitching with every inhale.

“uh-HDCHSH! HRESHSH! hhhhhSHCHUH!”

Taehyung sneezes and sneezes, and Jimin holds him, until the fit dies down and he’s left sniffling miserably into a wad of tissues that are barely hanging on. 

“Have you considered seeing an allergist?” Jimin asks him, after Taehyung has caught his breath and is pouting against Jimin’s chest. 

“hh? hhhHH–! HSCHshoo!”

*

At some point, Taehyung falls asleep, because when he awakens he’s flat on his back and he has such a fierce tickle in his nose that he can’t even open his eyes.

“nnngghh’HNGSH!”

The sneeze comes out groggy and congested, and Taehyung sniffles miserably in the aftermath, still trying to wake up completely. When he finally gets his eyes open, he can see that it’s late, dark inside his room except for the glow from the small night light next to his nightstand. He’s so congested that his face feels heavy, and there’s something icy cold against his legs that makes him shiver. 

“Jimbi’d?”

But it’s not Jimin lying next to him, unless Jimin dyed his hair in the past few hours, and the person hasn’t moved an inch despite the disruption.

“Ju’gkookie?”

Jungkook stirs slightly when Taehyung says his name, but he only lets out a quiet sound, an exhale that puffs out across Taehyung’s skin. His arms are wrapped around Taehyung’s waist and his cheek is resting on his chest, and in the dim lighting he can see that the skin around his eyes is puffy. 

With a sad frown, Taehyung realizes Jungkook probably cried his poor heart out as soon as he stepped foot in the shower when he got home– even after years of working at the hospital, his boyfriend’s caring heart is still affected by every single loss.

He cranes his neck so he can press a kiss to the top of Jungkook’s head. “Oh, Bun.”

Jungkook tightens his arms around him but still doesn’t wake. 

The icy cold thing pressing against his legs turns out to be Jungkook’s feet, and Taehyung frowns with a new wave of concern when he realizes this. He lifts the blanket just enough to check if Jungkook is even wearing clothes, and is relieved to see that he’s wearing pajama pants at least. Apparently, all he did when he got home was take a shower before crawling into bed, not even bothering to put on socks or dry his hair properly. 

He runs his fingers through Jungkook’s still damp hair with a sigh, which triggers a fierce tickle in his sinuses that he tries to squash down by pressing his palm against his nostrils. Moving as slowly as he can, he pulls the blanket higher until it’s over Jungkook’s shoulders, and then quickly searches for the box of tissues, finding it above his pillow where Jimin thankfully left it within his reach.  

Continuing to card his hand slowly and soothingly through Jungkook’s hair, Taehyung clamps the tissues over his nose and breathes solely through his mouth– not a difficult feat considering how stuffed up he already is– and rolls them both over slightly so they’re more on their sides. When he feels his sinuses are in control for the time being, he switches the tissue to his other hand and wraps an arm around Jungkook.

Jungkook snuggles into the warmth and Taehyung smiles. His face is buried in Taehyung’s chest, nose right between his pecs, which is why only a moment Taehyung suddenly regrets it– the tickle in his nose returns and his breath hitches suddenly, chest quaking as the sneeze builds rapidly.

“hh-HH! hihh…hh-h-h–!”

The movement of his chest jostles Jungkook’s head, and he moans softly and begins to stir awake. 

“hhh…”

Taehyung scrunches up his entire face.

“hhHH! h! hh-ihh–!”

He presses his tongue firmly against the roof of his mouth.

“nhh…uh-hehhh! hh-hh-hHH–!”

Breath hitching erratically, Taehyung brings his hand up to cup the back of Jungkook’s head, holding him against his chest so he’s not jostled around any further. He lifts the hand holding the tissue to his face as slowly as he can, as if any sudden movement will set the sneeze off, and rubs it against his nose with determination.

Rubbing his nose with the tissue only seems to make the tickle spread more. His breath catches sharply and he lets the tissue fall from his grip, jamming a finger under his nose instead to try to stop the sneeze.

It does not work.

“HDXCHT!”

He sneezes once, a booming sound despite trying to stifle it, and Jungkook doesn’t even react. A soft, amused chuckle falls from Taehyung’s lips when he realizes that his boyfriend is still sound asleep. 

But there’s another sneeze building, and Taehyung knows it will bring its friends with it, and as much as he’d like to think he’s able to hold them back he knows that realistically he can’t. 

“AAAASHH!” Sure enough, another sneeze bursts out of him not ten seconds later, followed soon by several more. “hhh-AHHHHSCH! UHHDSH-ehh! hhhSHCHUH! Ugh, ohh–hh’ERSHSH!”

He’s sniffling against the aftermath of the fit when he feels a kiss pressed to the base of his throat.

“Bless you,” comes Jungkook’s sleepy, raspy voice. “Love you.”

“Oh,” Taehyung giggles congestedly when Jungkook’s breath puffs out against his neck, ticklish. “Hey, you. I love you too.” With a slightly dramatic and quite unproductive sniffle, Taehyung wraps his arms around Jungkook, protective. “Love you so much. And I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up. I tried reeeally hard not to sneeze, baby.” 

Jungkook yawns. “’S okay,” he murmurs. “If I minded I would have slept in my own bed.” He presses his nose under Taehyung’s jaw and breathes in deeply. 

“You should have slept in your own bed. You would have slept so much better.” Taehyung reaches out to swipe his thumb under the dark circles under his eyes.

Jungkook yawns again. “Mm. You needed cuddles. You’ve been miserable all day and I wasn’t here to cuddle you.” Yawning a third time, he brings a fist to his face to rub at his eye and then tucks his arms back under the blankets, pulling them tighter around himself.

“Are you cold, baby?”

Jungkook nuzzles into his pillow. His eyes are closed again and he doesn’t respond.

Taehyung starts to untangle himself so he can go grab another blanket, but Jungkook whimpers as soon as he sits up, snaking an arm around his waist and holding on tightly. 

“Don’t go,” he whispers, so quietly that Taehyung almost doesn’t hear him. “Please.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Taehyung quickly reassures him, lying back down and wrapping his arms around the younger man with a frown. “I’m right here, baby.”

“Don’t go,” Jungkook repeats.

“Oh, baby,” Taehyung cood. “My bunny. I love you so much. I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here, okay?”

Jungkook nods against him and then stills in Taehyung’s arms. Taehyung thinks he might be crying, but he’s not sure, and Jungkook’s breathing is quiet and even for several minutes. 

Once Jungkook has fallen asleep, Taehyung closes his eyes and tries to fall asleep himself, sniffling against a now runny nose and then feeling his heart drop when it causes him to sneeze again.

“HHDSH-ehh!”

The sneeze makes Jungkook jump. “Bless you,” he murmurs, but then he’s asleep again a minute later. 

*

Eventually, after a few hours of restless sleep, Taehyung has to get out of bed because he needs to blow his nose and he’s out of tissues, and he can’t find his handkerchief from earlier anywhere. He also needs his next dose of allergy medicine. But mostly, he gets out of bed because he needs to sneeze again and he doesn’t want to risk waking Jungkook up at all.

It’s easy to extract himself from Jungkook’s embrace this time. He makes his way out to the kitchen, sitting at the counter and resting his head on his arms. As soon as he does, he’s sneezing, not bothering to cover his face because he’s a bit too tired for that. 

“uh-HDCHSH! HRESHSH! hhhhhSHCHUH!” 

Taehyung checks the time on the oven and sees that it’s only 3 in the morning. Unsure if he’ll be able to fall back asleep, Taehyung decided to take his medicine and eat breakfast instead– he had accidentally skipped dinner the night before, so now both his sleep schedule and his meal schedule are thrown off.  

Jungkook pads out to the kitchen an hour later to find Taehyung finishing up a bowl of cereal that he’s been very slowly munching on, struggling to eat with how congested he is.

“You sound like you have a cold,” he worried, sliding onto the stool next to Taehyung with a loud yawn. “I could hear your stuffy breathing from down the hall.” He pauses, resting his head on one hand and staring at Taehyung’s profile. “Are you sure you don’t have a cold?”

Taehyung pushes his nearly empty bowl away and turns to face Jungkook. “It’s you I’m worried about catching a cold. What are you doing without socks or a shirt on?” He frowns. “And you went to sleep with damp hair.”

Jungkook yawns and drags a hand over his face. “You’re overreacting.” 

“You know how easily you catch a ch-chill– ohh–! hhh-AASH’TCH!”

Jungkook raises an eyebrow, unamused. 

With an irritated sniffle, Taehyung frowns again. “Okay, that was bad timing,” he mutters. “But, you really are more susceptible to catching colds, bun.” 

“Mmhmm. And you’re more susceptible to pollen and dust particles?” Jungkook teases. Then, his face softens. “How are you feeling, by the way? When I left for work yesterday you sounded so bad. I knew you were gonna have a rough day.” 

Taehyung nods and swipes a finger under his nose. “I’ve mostly just been really sneezy. Jimin came over– oh, you already knew that,” he chuckles. “You sent him to check on me.”

Jungkook nods and yawns again into a fist.

Clearing his throat, Taehyung rests his head on Jungkook’s shoulder. “He told me about what…he told me why you had to stay late for work.”

Jungkook hums and Taehyung can feel the vibrations against his cheek.

“You work tomorrow too, right? Or– today?”

Looking at his phone, Jungkook nods. “Yep. I have to be at work in three hours.”

“Do you have to?” Taehyung whines.

Jungkook stiffens, looking worried. “Why? Do you think you’ll be okay here on your own? Or does it feel like it’s going to be another bad day?”

Taehyung lifts his head and shakes it. “No, I just mean–”

“Have you been taking your medication? And using the handkerchief I bought?”

Jungkook stands and makes his way to the front door, returning shortly with a small black bag that has Taehyung rolling his eyes. 

“You’re not seriously gonna give me a check up right now?” He asks, but Jungkook only continues.

He pulls out a penlight and a stethoscope from his bag. “Is your throat sore? You’re so congested, babe. Are you sure it's just allergies?”

Taehyung glares, but opens his mouth obediently when Jungkook asks him to. “Yes, I’m sure!” 

Jungkook taps underneath Taehyung’s chin and holds up his penlight. “Tilt your head up for me?”

“Jungkook,” Taehyung warns. He can feel his nose tickling again already. “I swear, if you shine that light up my nose, I’m gonna sneeze on you.” 

Jungkook shines the light up his nose anyway. “I work in healthcare, babe. Do you really think I’m worried about something like that?” 

“Kook,” Taehyung whimpers. “N-no, really, I’m gonna– hhh-AASH’TCH!”

“Everything is so swollen,” Jungkook murmurs, still trying to get a look up Taehyung’s nose as he snorts and snuffles. “But, your throat isn’t inflamed, so I think it’s just allergies.” 

“hhdh’ISHSHCH! HIIIHXSH! Ugh. I already know it’s just allergies!” 

Biting his lower lip, Jungkook tucks everything back into his bag. “I can send Jimin over to check on you again.”

Taehyung shakes his head, but he’s still not done with his own line of questions. “Do you have to go in to work?” He repeats. Before Jungkook can respond, he holds a hand up. “Not because of me. You’re exhausted. You’ve barely slept, and you had to stay late, and you had a hellish time at work yesterday.”

A long moment passes before Jungkook responds. 

“It’s part of the job, Taehyung.” His voice is soft, almost far-away sounding. His shoulder slump and he clears his throat. “One that I knew about when I went to med school. I will be fine.”  

He suddenly shivers visibly and wraps his arms around himself, and Taehyung frowns. 

“Not if you catch a chill, you won’t be fine.” Taehyung clicks his tongue. “You probably wouldn’t even stay home from work for that either, though,” he grumbles as an afterthought.

“Why do you sound so old fashioned?” Jungkook laughs. “What exactly do you consider to be “a chill”, hm?” He shakes his head. “If I come down with a cold, it will have nothing to do with the fact that you’re keeping the temperature in here so low.” 

He shivers again, and Taehyung points an accusing finger at him. “So you are cold!” He marches over to the thermostat, grinning triumphantly when he sees the number. “The temperature is exactly where you set it, bun. It’s not cold in here.” 

Jungkook pouts, then, his stubbornness giving way to the exhaustion that’s trying so desperately to cling to him.  

“Stop teasing me,” he whines. “I’m just cold because I’m sleepy.”

Taehyung is immediately back in front of Jungkook, wrapping his arms around him. “I know, bunny.” 

He leans forward and kisses the tip of Jungkook’s nose. When he pulls away, Jungkook blinks sleepily at him, a small smile on his face. Taehyung lifts his hand to caress Jungkook’s cheek and the younger man closes his eyes at the touch. 

“My poor, sleepy bunny,” he coos before kissing his nose once more. 

“Now,” Taehyung continues, voice firmer. “Here’s the plan. I’m going to order us food because we need to eat properly. And then you are going right to bed and sleeping until your alarm goes off for work. I will sleep in my own bed so I don’t disturb you.” He pauses, rubbing at his nose and sniffling as if to demonstrate the potential ways Jungkook might be disturbed. “When you get off work tomorrow– or, tonight, technically– we will cuddle the fuck out of each other. Sound good?”

“Did you say cuddle each other and fuck each other?” Jungkook smirks. “Yeah. Sounds so good.” 

Taehyung raises an eyebrow and looks down at his phone screen, placing an order for food delivery from a place that’s open 24/7. “Okay, sure. Let’s see how tired you are when you get off work.” He wrenches to the side with a sudden sneeze. “AHH’SHUH! Ugh. Or, how sneezy I still am.”  

After they eat, Jungkook gives Taehyung a dose of allergy medicine and then produces two clean handkerchiefs plus an unopened box of tissues. He makes him drink a full glass of water and then sets him up with another glass on his nightstand. 

“I really hope you’re feeling better later today,” he tells Taehyung, kissing the tip of his reddened nose fondly. 

Taehyung leads Jungkook to his bedroom and tucks him into bed with a kiss to his forehead. Sometimes, he thinks it’s silly that they each have their own room, since they sleep in the same bed more often than not, but it’s times like this when he’s thankful Jungkook will have a quiet place to rest, even if it’s just for a couple more hours.  

He falls asleep quickly once he returns to his own bed, stomach full of food and dosed with more medication. He’s confused when he wakes up about two hours later to a shuffling sound and then a quiet whisper. 

“Tae?”

Jungkook’s voice is hoarse– like he’s been crying, Taehyung realizes with a pang of sadness. 

He sniffles, rubbing at his nose, and then bobs forward with a tired, congested sneeze that feels more like a reflex than a response to any irritation. “hgshh-ahh!”

“Bless you.”

“Jungkookie?” Taehyung rubs at his eyes. “What time is it?”

Jungkook just wordlessly climbs into Taehyung’s bed, pulls the covers nearly all the way up over his head, and wraps his arms around Taehyung’s waist. He tucks his face under Taehyung’s chin, nosing along his jaw and sniffing, breathing in his scent for a minute, and Taehyung smiles.

“Sweet bunny, why are you awake?” 

Still silent, Jungkook buries his head in Taehyung’s chest. He doesn’t move after that, his breathing evening out into a quiet, rhythmic pattern. 

“I called in to work,” Jungkook whispers just as Taehyung is sure he’s fallen back asleep.

“What? Why? Are you feeling okay?” Taehyung pulls back so he can peer down at Jungkook, but Jungkook follows him, keeping his face pressed against his chest like he’s hiding. 

“Oh, Jungkookie,” Taehyung whispers, burying his face in Jungkook’s hair. 

And then immediately jerks away when Jungkook’s hair tickles his overly sensitive nose.

“Nnn-no– hhh! Shit, s-sorryhhh– ihhhh’HIIIXSH! HHHRESH! uh-HIIISHSH! uh-hhhHHH-HIIISHSH!” 

The four enormous sneezes leave him with a pounding headache and a runny nose and he immediately starts to apologize until he hears a strange noise- and it takes him a moment of sniffling and catching his breath before he realizes that it’s the sound of Jungkook chuckling very softly into his chest, mouth open and hot puffs of air coming out with each breath that Taehyung can feel through his shirt.

“Bless you,’ Jungkook murmurs after a moment. He snuggles even closer. “Love you.” 

Taehyung, pulling Jungkook as close as he possibly can, closes his eyes and smiles so wide his face hurts. “I love you too, honey bunny.” 

#bts sickfic #bts snz #allergy fic #allergic taehyung #taehyung snz #sick taehyung #caretaker jungkook #taekook au #bts au #mild angst #jungkook is sad #bts hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort

[the-broken-pen]

How about a hero who accidentally kills a cat and feels bad about it so they bury it but villain finds them? Love your writing!

The hero was thoroughly, miserably, soaked and shivering on the ground. Dirt coated their palms, under their fingernails and on their knees.

They dragged a hand down their face. Fought off a wretched sob.

Their fingers shook as they set the flower down on the tiny mound.

Behind them, the sirens on an ambulance cut off, plunging them into silence. If they thought about it, they could feel the blood seeping from their side. They could hear the sound of rubble shattering to the ground echo in their ears.

And the screaming.

They could hear that, too.

They didn’t think about it.

A sob worked it’s way out of their chest, painful in their throat as they tried to swallow it.

“I’m sorry,” they choked. Their voice cracked. “It was—an accident, and I know that doesn’t…”

They had to bite their lip to stop another sob.

“Praying?” the villain questioned from behind, voice gentle.

The hero shrugged one bruised shoulder.

“No.”

The villain stepped around, facing them. Their eyes dropped to the flower, the fresh dug dirt on the hero’s hands. The grave.

Their expression softened.

“Ah.”

“You can leave now.”

“Praying for forgiveness, or praying for salvation.”

“I said you can leave now,” the hero snapped. They swiped away an angry tear, dirt smearing on their cheek.

The villain didn’t move.

“Why are you still here?” They bared their teeth in something they hoped was enough of a message to get the villain to leave. They had a feeling it was something pathetic, instead.

“You were crying,” the villain said it like it was an answer.

If the hero thought about it too hard, it was.

They didn’t think about it.

“Burst water line,” they gestured haphazardly to the demolition behind them, the half-flooded street. “No tears, no praying, and certainly no need for you—”

The villain’s expression shifted. “I told you that you needed to microdose your power.”

The hero froze.

“Shut up,” they hissed. “Shut up—“

“You wanted to quit, and I respected that. You have enough scars for a lifetime, we both do. But I warned you. I told you that if you didn’t use your power, it would use you, and it would be an ugly, violent thing.”

The hero shook their head mutely, words stuck under their tongue.

“And you thought you knew better,” the villain continued like it wasn’t breaking the hero’s heart. “You thought you could go through life and keep it bottled inside you and ignore the pressure.”

Their gaze flicked to the wreckage the hero knew lay behind them.

“Did you know better, hero?” Their voice was soft and dangerous. “Did you?”

“I said I was sorry!” It clawed its way out of the hero, and it wasn’t a scream, but it was close. “Okay? I know I messed up. You don’t need to taunt me with it, I already—“

The hero’s gaze settled onto the grave once more.

“I already regret it,” they whispered. “You can’t make me any more sorry than I already am.”

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad.”

“Then you’re failing spectacularly,” the hero snorted derisively.

The villain’s jaw ground.

“I’m trying to make you understand that this would have happened regardless of what you did. And that it’s not your fault.”

The hero blinked.

“You just said that I—“

“I said you thought you could fight your power and win. And you were,” the villain conceded. “You might have made it another month. Maybe two.”

The hero had never seen the villain so angry. “But then someone shot you, off duty and in civilian clothes,” they seethed. “The fallout is on them, not you.”

“I killed a cat,” the hero managed roughly. They blinked back tears.

The villain shook their head.

“You were off-duty. A civilian.”

“I could never be just a civilian, you know that.”

“Just because you were the bullet does not mean you were the one who pulled the trigger.”

“You aren’t making any sense.”

“I am,” the villain corrected. “But you’re grieving, and bleeding, and suffering from a massive energy drop, so you can’t see it yet.”

The hero let the villain pull them to their feet, dirt smearing between their two hands.

“You want forgiveness?” The villain ducked their head to meet the hero’s eyes. “I forgive you.”

The hero forgot how to breathe.

“You can’t just do that.”

“I can do whatever I want. And what I want is for you to stop crying.”

The hero snorted again, but it was lighter this time.

“You’re an ass.”

“And you’re a civilian.”

The hero shook their legs out. When they went to turn back to the grave, the villain caught their chin, turning them away with soft fingers.

“I forgive you,” they said solemnly, as if they had never said anything so important. “They do, too.” They inclined their head just slightly towards the grave.

For once, as their chest collapsed in on itself, the hero believed them

#thank you so much for the ask!!!!! #writing community #writing #creative writing #snippet #heroes and villains #angst #fic writing #ficlet #writing prompt #writblr #hurt/comfort #death mention #animal death #grief #hero/villain #retired hero #villain caretaker #whump #hero whumpee #emotional whump #gunshot mention #the broken pen #sad #I’m abt the pass out #I’m so tired #hurt hero #sad hero #hero & villain #accidental death

[whumpsandbumps]

Caretaker shot up in bed like they’d been electrocuted, their shirt was stuck to their back, drenched in cold sweat,as their breath came in shaky heaves and trembling hands found their way to their face, trying to stem the flow of tears that threatened to fall.

Their thoughts raced as they struggled to breathe, Until they managed to pick out one crystal clear thought that stood out from the crazed mess of their brain.

Whumpee.

What if? Oh god- what if Whumper had got them again? Or-

They barely had time to finish their thought before they were sprinting down the hallway and wrenched open the door to Whumpees room, fearing the worse, expecting an empty and a shattered window and-

Whumpee is fine, as they were the last 3 times Caretaker had sprinted to their room. Soft snores being the only sound they can hear, their ruffled hair just visible on their pillow due to the soft glow of the nightlight Caretaker had bought for them for when they brought them home.

Caretaker exhales, which turns into a shaky sob as relief and pure utter exhaustion overcome them.

Whumpee, always the light sleeper,stirs at the sound mumbling something under their breath and blinking sleepily at Caretaker.

“Caretaker?” They whisper “Are you okay?”

Caretaker has to take a shaky breath before attempting to reassure Whumpee,

“Yeah I’m fine Whumpee” their voice is strong until Whumpee’s name comes out of their mouth and their voice wobbles, tears flowing down their face.

They’re glad Whumpee can’t see them in this light.

Whumpee frowns and gets up, padding over the floor to Caretaker, hands reaching to cup Caretaker’s face.

“You’re crying, wh- why?” they mutter, as Caretaker leans into their touch.

Caretaker doesn’t even get to reply, not that they can, as they continue sobbing, their hand pressed over their mouth.

Whumpee takes their hand and drags them to their bed, climbing in and patting the space next to them.

Caretaker follow suit and curls into Whumpee’s side, still sobbing.

Whumpee pulls their blankets over the two of them and runs their fingers through Caretakers hair, shushing them gently, as Caretaker did to them when they rescued them.

It doesn’t take long for Caretaker to fall asleep their tear streaked face pressed into Whumpee’s side and Whumpee quickly follows suit, equally as exhausted.

#whumpee but caretaker? #caretaker #caretaker is sad :( #saw a prompt of this #yes I did not proof read this #and now I realised the tense suddenly changes halfway through #this is ao3’s fault for going down #whump writing #whumpblr #based off a whump prompt

[fisheito]

#1 nurse on the way!!!!!!

#that's a gif *points* #GIMME DAT GRASS #my 2nd ever garu SSR is treating me very well gotta say #these intimacy rooms are giving me some delightful backstory and i love him more for it #idk sometimes i worried about garu being too childish and i was like.... pls no.... i wish for no extra caretaking responsibilities...... #that's a grownass wolf who's been out in the world on his own #to uwushotatrope-ify the muscley wolfboy is to do me a great disservice and thus it cannot be so (pretty pretty pleas) #so to see him.... taking care... uno reversing eiden #so cute. so precious. so sad but also he is so good and is coping very well #all things considered...... #even had flashbacks to when blade was taking care of eiden in the story #BUT THE DIFFERENCE IS GARU'S COOKING IS PALATABLE 🤣 #garu karu and yakumo on the “will threaten eiden into getting back into bed if he tries to move while sick” team together #actually. who WOULDN'T be on that team? #starts counting on my fingers #edmond's on that team... olivine too.... hmmmmm........ #karu

[crimsonkenjii-writes]

Dilf Giyuu 😵‍💫😵‍💫

#just imagine Giyuu #dropping off his baby at daycare #so many of the caretakers swooning over how handsome he is #thinking he’s a single dad #him holding his baby and being so loving towards him not helping them swoon any less #it doesn’t help that they’re identical either #adding to the cuteness overload #but then you show up with him one day #and they all get so sad that he’s taken #but that doesn’t stop them from admiring and drooling from a distance #hhhrrgh #selfship shenanigans #crimsonkenjii art

[roblingoblin285]

The closet door opened slowly and Whumpee pressed further into the wall, arms up to shield his face.

“Hi, sunshine,” Caretaker said softly, staring down at the boy with a sad sort of relief. Their face fell when they saw the look of sheer terror on his face. “Oh, come here, Whumpee.”

Whumpee hesitated for just a moment before throwing himself into Caretaker’s outstretched arms, burrowing into their chest as they neatly wrapped their arms around him. Gentle hands combed through his hair and smoothed along his back comfortingly. 

“Whatever you think you did, kiddo, you did nothing wrong. I promise.”

Whumpee sniffled. “You don’t even know what I did.”

“Don’t need to. I know you.”

#parent figure caretaker #child whumpee #theyre just so so sad all the time #whump #whump prompt #whump scenario #writing prompt #writing