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Summary: Henry comes home to you crying on the bed, scared that you’ll one day lose him. 

Genre: fluff, and I guess a little bit of an angsty setup

Warnings: established d/s relationship, but it’s really only hinted at.

author’s note: this is just a little comfort ficlet really. lots of fluff and love confessions. The reader is completely gender-ambiguous, but referred to with they at one point.

1.2k words

“Baby, I’m home!” Henry softly yells into the house as he comes home, wanting to announce his present but also not wanting to be too loud in case you’re sleeping. When there’s no reply, he assumes that you’re doing just that, probably curled up on the couch with the TV running. He quietly takes off his coat and shoes, wondering if Kal is asleep as well, as the bear hadn’t greeted him yet. Making his way into the living room, his heart stops a second when he can’t see you on the comfy sofa.

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Bakugou: Good. Fuck all that title shit. Keep that outta here. You, however. Get your ass in here. You’re fucking great. You’re an absolute fucking badass, and deserve so much better than what you tell yourself. Think you’re a loser? Ha! Please. You’re fucking great. Think you aren’t “pretty enough”? False. Fucking wrong. I take no criticism. Think you’re boring? Nope. You’re super fucking cool, and anyone who tells you otherwise can piss off. If your friends talk shit about you, they aren’t your friends. They’re assholes. And you don’t deserve to be around assholes. And if you’re being an asshole to yourself, consider therapy. Please. That’s fucking all. Go live your life, fucking superb bean.

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Bakugou: Fuck all that title shit. Hey, you. Yeah, you. Listen here, shithead. Your feelings are valid, and so are your accomplishments. You’re accomplishments aren’t someone else’s. They’re yours. Did some fucking extra waltz in and do it all for you? No? Then that accomplishment is yours. And if some extra is fucking with you and saying that, I want a location. I just want to talk, that’s all. But if you even think for a second that you fucked up or that your accomplishments aren’t yours or something, I am actually gonna come over there, and hug you. Maybe even cuddle, and remind you how beautiful and important you are, fucking dumbass.

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Small Might: I understand that you’ve been pushing yourself too hard. I know you want to do your very best at whatever it is you’re up to, but you aren’t going to do the best you can if you’re pushing yourself past the limit. Even if you push yourself up to the limit, that still isn’t good. This isn’t to say that slacking off is good, no. But there’s a gray area in there, and it’s a little bit bigger than you may think. You’re going to do great as long as you don’t burn yourself out. Please take care.

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Kirishima: Hey, you wanna– HOLY SHIT! That’s so much work! When was the last time you took a break, man? You look really tired. You need to take care of yourself, you know! Gotta make sure you’re ready to face the day! I understand you wanna get stuff done before deadlines and all that, but your mental health is above work. No matter who you are, or how old you are. You need a break. Go get some food, go get some water, maybe watch a YouTube video or two. Just let yourself relax. Stare at a screen too long and your eyes are gonna hurt. May also get a headache. So relax, please. You need a break from all this stuff. Wanna go watch a movie? You can pick! I also managed to heat up some pizza rolls. I also bought some salad in case you don’t want pizza rolls! Come on, let’s go take a break!

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Lilia, this isn’t comfort!!!

“What? Can’t you see that Max is not in pain, for once?”

Now, seriously, I’m sorry. Please, heed the warnings. No noncon happens in this piece, just hurt/comfort, but the context is still a lot darker than I first planned to.

CW: NONCON aftermath, noncon touching, thoughts of death, fear of future noncon, vague discussion about noncon, restraints, blindfold, captivity. Rough and unedited. Ask me to tag any cw.

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there’s glory in a moth’s death. to die like october, leaves vibrant in its descent. to be something bigger than this. fireworks are dancing under your skin and i wonder if icarus was disappointed as wings turned ichor. to be enveloped into flame, wings burning into your spine, to become something beautiful if only for a second, who’s to say a moth is foolish? if a moth is foolish, my love must be idiotic. the world will continue to divide us, to try and rip our smiles apart at the seams, steal our words from the hollow points below our cheekbones, but rei, my ray, when sunshine streams through our windows and embraces our skin, that is the only shared touch we need. the sun will rise again, as it always does, and we are.

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I sit, in a darkened room. The glare of the computer screen shines on my cheeks. The bags under my eyes grow heavier with each second. My fingers are on autopilot, typing quickly, flying over keypads. Words are tumbling onto white, melding, intertwining, solidifying their existence on blank pages. There is peace. My heart sways with the melody of the words, as they dance in harmony to the rhythm of my fingers. Do not mistake an absence for a lack. In this room, where I know not the heat of another person - only myself - I am whole. Life speaks to me. I speak back.

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Migraine | Concussion

Setting: Cadeverse

Continuity: After Wind Shear

Whumplet by @adrenaline-whump


My phone buzzed three times before I managed to find it by blindly swatting at the blanket. I cracked an eye open to see if it was anything I cared about.

My answering croak alarmed Liz. “Oh, honey, you sound terrible. Are you OK?”

“Killer headache,” I said.

“Oh, that’s too bad,” she said sympathetically. “I’m in town and I was going to see if you wanted to get lunch. Have you taken anything for it? Advil or anything?”

“Not yet,” I told her. “That would mean getting out of bed.”

“You’re still in bed? Oh, sweetheart. If I come over there, can you open the door for me?”

It took her about half an hour to get to my place, and I needed at least half that time to stand up and get out of my bedroom. I felt my way along the hallway with my eyes squeezed shut, used braille to find the doorknob and unlock it, and retreated back to bed. I don’t usually leave my door unlocked like that, but I just wanted to get my head back under a pillow. The window by the door was letting in way too much light.

A little while later, I heard the door open, and Liz’s voice called out, “It’s me.” Her footsteps moved around, to the kitchen and back, and then into my bedroom. I squinted out from under the pillow.

“You look as miserable as you sounded, love. Here…I know it hurts, but this should help.” She’d brought a couple of ibuprofen and a bottle of orange Gatorade. I pushed myself upright, which made my head throb so hard, I half-expected Liz to ask what the thumping sound was.

“I don’t remember you having migraines,” she said worriedly. “Is this new?”

“It’s not a migraine,” I said. “It’s my own damn fault. See, the shrink was telling me that getting triggered is like your brain revving way too fast, and caffeine can make it worse. He said I should think about drinking less coffee. I’ve got a few days off since Hank’s visiting his daughter in Florida. So I just stopped.”

“You quit cold turkey? Oh, honey,” she sighed, “you know there are easier ways to do this, right? You could taper off.”

“Might as well rip the bandaid off,” I said. “This way I don’t have to keep track of how much I’ve had.”

“Love,” she said, hiding a smile, “you’re an idiot sometimes.”

“Yeah, but you knew that already.”

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Sitting quietly down beside the boy as he curled more up against the hyper engine with his legs pulled to his chest, Obi-Wan took a deep breath as he settled his hands in his lap. “…So, you spoke with Padme.” He murmured softly, the hum of the engine filling the silence after.

Honestly, Obi-Wan hadn’t been there for the conversation, Qui-Gon had to fill him in on it after, which of course sent Obi-Wan in search of the young boy.

He of course found him rather easily, even on a ship as large as this, there wasn’t that many hiding places and thankfully, Anakin hadn’t gone into one of the vents.

Anakin let out a tiny, acknowledging noise, scuffing his left big toe against the durasteel.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Obi-Wan thought of what to say before sighing deeply. “I guess it hurt to hear huh?” He settled on finally, knowing how big of a heart Anakin had.

That had Anakin’s head snapping to him so fast it made a cracking noise, the action causing Obi-Wan to wince in sympathy. “Me!? What about you!?” He cried out before biting his lips when Obi-Wan made a quick shushing noise, both glancing to the closed door.

Thankfully, with the engine beside them and the engine room door closed, the cry wouldn’t carry too much. Hopefully that meant that no one would have heard and understood the implication of Anakin’s words.

“Sorry…” Anakin whispered, biting his lip hard.

Reaching out, rubbing the boy’s head gently. “Its alright, you’re upset. You learned something you… didn’t expect.” He stated softly.

Sniffling faintly, Anakin tucked himself under Obi-Wan’s arm, seeking comfort from the Jedi padawan. “She’s so kind… yet…” Anakin swallowed heavily.

Tucking his arm tightly around Anakin, Obi-Wan let out a small breath. “Throughout most of the galaxy, werewolves are, at best, tolerated. A few planets even liked but… Naboo is not one of those.” He settled on gently.

“But… why?” Anakin’s plaintive voice whispered, almost unheard in the room if it wasn’t for Obi-Wan’s sharp hearing even in his human form. A child asking for understanding something that went beyond even Obi-Wan’s understanding really, despite experiencing it all his life.

Huffing slightly, Obi-Wan shrugged slightly. “Not sure why, they don’t hate them on Naboo but… its not spoken about in polite society,” He stated quietly, feeling Anakin burrow closer, as if he was trying to get into Obi-Wan’s lap. “Its an ‘out of sight, out of mind’ sort of thing and if you let on in public that you are a werewolf, its a social faux pas.” He sighed tiredly.

Honestly, he was so tired of always having to hide what he was out of the temple but he’d rather not the Nabooan change how they treated him, it would make for a most tedious mission.

He had enough missions like that before and it was just… he was just so done with it all.

Done with people thinking he was second-rate, even in the temple even if there were less than before, done with people having misconception about werewolves based on a few selective individuals, done with rumors bulking up the prejudice.

Just… done.

“She was so nice,” The boy trailed off before sniffling heavily. “…Its not fair.” Anakin mumbled, hiding in Obi-Wan’s chest, sniffling.

Letting out an agreeing hum, Obi-Wan simply tightened his arms around the boy. “Unfortunately, life is not fair but I agree with you, its not fair.” He whispered, settling his cheek on Anakin’s head with a sigh, having taking note of the ‘was’ and not ‘is’, Anakin’s view of Padme shattered by careless words, just as Obi-Wan’s had long ago while still in the creche.

At least Obi-Wan had his master, his friends and now also Anakin, if Qui-Gon’s plans went through, then he would have another friend in the temple.

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