#disinfectant cleaner for home | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

katsukikitten · 2 years

Text

Synopsis: Your worst nightmare comes to life after you receive a call well after midnight that isn't from your husband Bakugou but about him. Rushing to the hospital you're thankful to find him alive but when he comes to he asks to see his wife despite you standing there.

Warnings: Angst

Chapter One: The things we forget, 3.6k

A/N & wc: just something quick I whipped up

Master List

This is what you wanted isn't it?

All along you begged the Gods for this.

Asking with hot tears streaming down your face that you wished that you weren't here. Not dead but that you never truly existed at all. That no one could remember you and it would be that much easier to be nothing in the wind.

The Gods have a cruel sense of humor, granting your wish, much to your dismay, at an extremely shitty time in your life.

The call comes in the middle of the night, another fear you've had since you married him. Worry clawing up your stomach as your clammy hands reach for the phone. It's Kirishima, it's just Kirishima. He just wants to chat right?

At 2am he just wants to ask about your day doesn't he?

Deep down in the very marrow of your bones you know that's not true. Not even able to fool yourself for a second as your groggy voice shakes with a weak "H-hello?"

Kirishima comes out and just says it. Explains it all but it's as if he's speaking a different language. You barely make out Bakugou and the name of the hospital before the ringing in your ears is deafening. He goes on for what feels like hours as your mind plays out grotesque, horrifying images of what may be left if your husband.

He never got hurt.

Ever.

He promised.

He fucking promised he'd be okay. He always does when he kisses you goodbye. When you say stay safe and he affirms with a hum and "I will. For you I will."

But you didn't say stay safe this time did you? No you spat insults at him, hormonal, pms fueled rage over something he couldn't even control.

He was a superhero. He should be able to control everything.

"Sweetheart, I'm fuckin late." Is what he growled and when he leaned in for a kiss. You leaned away.

"That's it. I'm coming to get you." Kirishima hisses about to hang up when you tell him you're fine. That you'll be there and he can go home to his own worrying and extremely pregnant wife.

You use your quirk, illegally, flying at the speed of light to get to the hospital. Rushing out the syllables of your new last name, Bakugou in such a rush the nurse asks you three more times before you spy Kirishima's hands running through his red mane as he steps outside an ICU room.

Pushing past the nurse, biting your tongue as you rush towards Kirishima. Ignoring his warning as he tries to catch you as you slip under his large arms. Through the heavy door and pulling past the curtain.

It's worse than you imagined and yet still not as bad. He's unconscious, an oxygen mask over his face but thankfully no tube snaking down his throat. You launch yourself at his side, the slow beep from the monitor by your head reassures you he was still breathing.

Still alive.

Your palms are clammy again as it all comes rushing into focus. With each beep comes new information piled on top of the other. First is the pungent smell of cleaner. Disinfecting anything and everything until it's bleaching the lining of your lungs. Then comes the cold, thick plastic of the bed handle beneath your hands. Groaning from your grip as your heart rate increases.

Beep

The stiff blankets, they're scratchy and all wrong. Bakugou doesn't like this type of "cheap shit". He's more high maintenance than you. He likes tightly woven or soft down comforters.

Beep

Red, the bandages on his chest are weeping red. So much fucking color clashing with the white gauze. That can't be right. It'll get on this stupid scratchy blanket. The sharp inhale brings in more sanitation, your breath becomes more shallow. Teeth grinding and competing with the sound ringing in your head.

Beep

It's dark, it's so fucking dark in here you can barely see. Where are his eyes? Why won't his eyes open? You're whispering his name so softly like you do when he's worked overnight and you're leaving for work by mid morning. His crimson eyes always open. Always crinkle when he says goodbye. Why can't you see his fucking eyes?

Beep

Why

Beep

Is he gonna..

Beep

"Hey." A solid hand clamps onto your shoulder pulling you out of your spiral. Bringing you to shore with his rough grip, "Are you sure you'll be okay?"

At some point Kirishima has pulled up the reclining chair for you, offering it silently with one of those stupid, shitty scratchy blankets. You feel your skin crawl and not from the low thread count.

Eyes flickering back towards your husband of three years.

Three whole years and he's just going to leave like this? Like a candle snuffed out by…by

By some damn extra?!

Kirishima watches your labored breathing, he is never going to go back on the promise he made his best friend and the one Bakugou made in turn.

"She's stubborn. Look after her if something fuckin happens."

"I'm staying with you. I'll ask the nurse to-"

"No!" It comes out too quick, too loud as you turn on him like a wild animal. For just a moment you can see it. Dully reflected in his eyes in this damned low light, your reflection. What he sees.

A scared little girl who's about to lose her shit.

You clear your throat, straightening your back before you breathe out deeply.

"Your wife is going to pop any minute. You need to be available for her." You say sternly, pretending this was something so much more mundane. Like you've missed the bus or the taxi Bakugou sent for you.

A small inconvenience, yea that's all this was. You were just going to be late, late to see Bakugou and-

"You're sure?" Thunderous voice threatens to crack, looking over his friend, making it harder on you.

"Yes. You're injured, yourself. Besides your paternity leave starts the second she goes into labor and as office manager I do have a say on that. In fact it starts now." There it is, there's that stern voice he's used to. The light scolding you've always given him and Bakugou for the last five years.

Kirishima seems to give it some thought, a lot of thought.

"Eiji, please I'll be okay." You smile up at him, lips twitching at how difficult it is to turn them upward when all you want to do is scream. Scream until the burn of bleach is replaced from the raw emotion that's bubbling up your throat.

The large man shifts his weight, debating giving you a hug and when he sees your body closed off, hands white knuckled on the bed frame he thinks better of it.

"You better call me if you need anything. At least give me that okay?"

"Okay." You appease him, still forcing the smile and hoping he'll get the fuck out.

Finally he does, staring you down with a soft goodbye and a stern I mean it that you wave off. Until finally he shuts the big, scary door.

Leaving you alone with that sound that is both reassuring and yet nauseating.

Beep

And this time you can't hold back the tears.

Crying enough tears to fill up two weeks. Almost drowning in the amount shed as the doctor reassures you he'll wake soon. He has healthy brain wave activity and he's breathing on his own.

"All good signs. Try more of his favorite music."

It's all they can say. All they can give you to cling onto as you replay your last words to him.

Hateful, cruel things.

Over the stupidest fucking fight.

"It's because you're still in love with her!"

Throwing insecurities in his face and for what?

Suddenly his heart rate monitor beeps loudly, quickly chirping the increase in speed as you watch his eyes move beneath his long lashes.

Before they flutter open, looking over at you with… with

With disgust.

Your heart hammers in your chest. Was he? Was he still mad at you?

"H-hey Suki." You go to reach for the hairs that cling to his damp forehead only to be caught in his deadly hot and tight grip, "Katsuki, you're hurting me."

His free hand rips the mask from his face as he looks over at you with harsh set eyes. The intensity weakened only by his groggy state.

"Don't use my given name." A threat that has your eyes watering, "I don't even fuckin know you."

He tosses your hand back into your lap as if you were trash, eyes narrowing to slits.

"Where's my wife?"

"I am your -" But he cuts you off.

"Where the fuck is Momo?!"

Momo, Bakugou's first wife, comes quicker than you'd like. Wrapping her arms around you, sickeningly sweet perfume chokes you out, almost drowning out the harsh chemicals of the room. She came straight from the movie set, long lavish dress fit for the Mafia Princess character she was playing in some new film.

The same very ex wife who you claimed Bakugou wasn't over. Gritting your teeth as she fusses over you, as if you were a delicate thing that could break any minute and not Bakugou who lies under that itchy blanket.

"Momo, darlin." He croaks and she visibly flushes. Rushing to him, spying the blanket as well before she's using her quirk to make something more to his liking.

"Baby why weren't you here?" You can hear the strain in his voice, the emotion he's biting back as she looks down at him confused, "Are you still filming that dumb super hero movie?"

"Bakugou-"

"Katsuki." He corrects sharply, even moving his mask that the doctors fought to put back on to make sure she heard it. Momo looks over her shoulder cautiously to gauge your reaction.

"Katsuki…" It feels odd to form the syllables on her tongue, "I finished that movie seven years ago…"

"Wha-what?"

"I'm also…Ba-" His glare causes Momo to correct herself, "Katsuki, doll, we aren't married anymore. We divorced. You're married to her now."

Momo pulls you into view and Bakugou stares at his ex and "current" wife.

A long, heavy moment of silence passes before the heart monitor beeps furiously. The smell of caramel permeating the room much too quickly before the doctor rushes in.

Just as Bakugou takes in a breath to start yelling, pulling at the mask and almost ripping out his IV his body goes slack. The doctor was barely faster than him, injecting him with something to lull him back to sleep.

Especially since explosives and oxygen did not mix well.

The doctor blinks rapidly having just caught the tail end of the conversation. Memory loss was normal, expected, but possibly six years or more…

Well that wasn't, even with his long history of concussions.

With the quick assessment he turns to the two women in the room. Debating on just how to go about this as bedside manner wasn't always his strong suit.

"What I'm about to say may be difficult for you two however keep in mind this is what is going to be best for the patient and his recovery. Since he is experiencing amnesia we will have to go along with what he thinks is true right now. Just like one would when someone has dementia. There will be less stress on his body if we indulge in his perceived reality."

"For how long?" Momo asks tentatively. Doctor Yashido takes a sharp inhale.

"Until his memories return."

"And how long will that take?" Two different tones ask in unison. One a frustrated bark the other laced with deep concern.

"Could be weeks. Could be months." He swallows thickly, Yashido never was good at delivering bad news and this was almost as bad as it gets, "If they ever return at all."

The hospital floor falls away from beneath your feet. Causing you to plummet into the deep dark depths. Questions buzzing in your head battling alongside the screaming. The sound echoes in your mind whipping up the thoughts of Bakugou having never loved you. Of Bakugou thinking so little of you, of finding you so fucking annoying, like the gnat you were he went and forced himself to forget the last three years of your marriage and taking it a step further by going back far enough to forget you existed at all.

Isn't this what you wanted? What you wished for that night? That you'd wake up and you hadn't existed at all?

Beep

This wasn't about you. Fuck this was about him. Would he be happier with Momo? He never really did say why they broke up. He always said it was "just mutual" and left it at that.

Beep

At least he was alive right? You could watch him from afar again. Watch the star rise as your feet stayed firmly planted on the ground.

Beep

You could forget he ever brought you up in the night sky to dance along with him. It would be easy right?

"Love." Momo calls for the third time, manicured hands on your shoulders, "Why don't you go home for some rest. And a shower."

You stare up at her blankly, at the doctor who gives a curious look before you slowly nod.

"Yea….yea that's a good idea."

Returning the next day proves painful as you see Momo has changed, stunning even in leggings and a cropped shirt. Even took the initiative to alter the decor of his ICU room. Soft yellow string lights, a humidifier, soft fluffy blankets and silky sheets that Bakugou might bleed on anyway if he didn't stop moving around so much.

It's awkward to stand in the corner and watch them interact. To watch everyone else interact with the man you so desperately wanted to see.

And wanted him to see you in return.

But he can't now, he doesn't even know your name. And everytime you come close to the bed he stares at you with such discontent, with suspicion as if you were the dirty liar in the room.

Kirishima falls back, bumping his shoulder into yours gently. You look up at him with deep bags under your eyes.

"Mina is worried about you, ya know. She says you can stay at our place if your apartment is too…much." He offers with a strained smile, you place another lip twitching half assed smile on your own mouth.

"I'll be fine."

Yet the late hours of the night, all alone in your too big apartment, curled into his pillow that is slowly losing the smell of him haunt you the most.

A few more weeks pass and even with Bakugou's restlessness the doctors argue with him about downgrading his stay to general admission. They instead move him from the ICU to the neurology floor, making this the longest Bakugou had ever been in the hospital to date. Meeting even more doctors that now talk to both you, for legal reasons and Momo, for Bakugou's fantasy, about his brain damage.

How there is hardly any and that there were many things about the brain that we as humans had yet to understand.

But that was his whole fucking job wasn't it? To study the brain and unlock its god damn mysteries. Not tell you you were shit out of luck and non-existent to your very real husband who was in such a twisted reality.

It's baffling to see his scans, to hear nothing is wrong. Painful to see the love in his eyes that shine for Momo and not a spark for you.

How odd it is to share your husband with his ex wife.

Sometimes you're brave enough to sit closer to him like you are today. Steeling your nerves against his harsh interrogation as if you were the nasty villain that put him here in the first place. Sitting second to Momo who holds his hand or smooths down his blanket. Watching the days bleed together as her once, almost forced and polite smile turns into something else.

Turns real, genuine.

It makes your stomach churn.

"The fuck are ya still doing here extra?" He hisses at you when he wakes from a nap, Momo shushing him. Scolding him about being rude and he counters.

"What's rude is that she fuckin exists! Why is she fuckin here, Sweetheart?" Your heart falls into your stomach. Throat closing up as your body rejects this.

Rejects everything, especially the sound of his nickname for you aimed at someone else. At someone you're stupidly jealous of. At someone whose fault this could never be and who has only ever shown you kindness.

Sent your flowers on your birthday.

Avoided hero galas the two of you went to.

"Katsuki!" No correction on his name now, Momo having settled into his given name once again and quickly at that.

"No, it's okay. I'll- I'll get us some coffee, Momo." You say abruptly getting up. Wanting comfort from no one but the man that just cut you with his sharp tongue.

He's just groggy. It's cause he's hurting. It's the meds that are saying that.

The same excuses echo through your head as you walk through the halls, air thick with intangible weight as you trudge towards the sludge machine painted in coffee labels.

You wondered what exactly the air was thick with. Grief most likely, of lives forever altered resting on the shoulders of sobbing loved ones who could barely hold themselves up but were now expected to carry the weight of the world.

Or maybe it was resentment, festering anger. Angry that this happened. Angry at God or the Gods or at no one in particular that let this happen to their loved one.

All you knew was that the air was thick with it. Smothering you with every futile breath you took.

Somehow you make it back to the room, muscle memory must have guided you back here. Toeing open the door that you left slightly ajar quietly.

Only to find a sleeping Bakugou, breathing even and heart rate lazy, slow. Momo sighs softly as she pushes his ash blonde hair away from his forehead murmuring ever so softly.

"Why'd I leave again?"

The paper cups in your hands crush easily. The scalding liquid burning in your hands as Momo startles from the sound. But nothing burns as badly as the angry tears you're holding back.

Maybe you should leave. Give these two their happily ever after.

Maybe everyone was right. Bakugou was a lot to handle. Mitsuki had said so herself. Saying you'd never be good enough for her son as long as you stayed weak willed.

Weak hearted.

"You won't last four years with my son. Mark my words. You'll give up on him because he's too good for you, Momo was the better fit."

She muttered them to you as she pulled the veil over your blurring vision before you walked down the aisle to her son.

You never did tell him. And now you never would.

Mind made up as you storm from the hospital room. Biting your lip until you tasted blood as you held yourself back. A war raging inside your head.

He's just lost his memories, that's all this is. No you fucking idiot his love for Momo was stronger.

Soon you're marching up the stairs to your shared apartment, almost snapping the key off in the lock from the sharp turn of your wrist. Rushing inside without bothering to remove your shoes as tears cloud your eyes. Threatening to fall in fat drops as you rummage through the closet for your suitcase. Stacking it haphazardly with random items in the room. A small painting, your charger, random clothes and jewelry. All the while murmuring to yourself before you bully your way into the en suite.

Gathering things here and there before you see it. The box catching your eye that has you instantly nausted.

It's quiet for a moment. The buzzing in your throat and head silenced by your intense concentration.

Before erupting with a raw scream shoving everything off of the granite in one foul swoop.

Shattering his expensive cologne and your pricy perfume onto the wood grain tile. The scents meld together reminding you of hot dinner dates the two of you never made it to. Too busy fucking on the vanity counter, staring at one another in the mirror. Now all that stares back at you is a ghost. Hollow eyes and a heavier heart.

Biting your lip you stare at the black box on the floor, torturing yourself by picking it up. The rectangular shape feels different in your hands, the rounded edges feel sharp as you gently unwrap the gift as if you didn't know what sat inside.

Two white tests. Neatly capped and set in tissue paper. Two solid pink lines on one test and the other written clear as day in digital text Pregnant

With finality you slam the box into the trash with such force the can falls over. The other several tests toppled out indicating the same thing. Confirming what your blood tests results in your voicemail echoed back to you from your OBGYN

Congratulations!

The sound of her voice rings in your head. Was it a "congratulations", was it really?

This is what you wanted right? A baby?

To not exist? To fall off the face of the earth?

Fate is a twisted and cruel thing, giving but always taking its hefty price as tears burn your eyes, bags packed leaving the once shared apartment.

The universe only gave you what you wanted right?

So congratulations, you got exactly what you wanted.

You were finally forgotten.

#bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou angst #kitten writes 🖤🐈‍⬛ ✍🏻#kitten writes bakugou

2K notes · View notes

younmexreaders · 1 month

Text

~~ Thorne x Reader 18+~~

A criminal terrorizing the police (barely bothering you or most people really) turns out to be the mothman that just landed on the rooftop of the apartment you live in. You took a pic of him and blackmail him into giving you a good time.

Female Reader/Mothman OC | 4k words

Includes:

Blackmail

Criminals

Pheromones

He big ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Rough Sex

The city is noisy and riddled with crime. There was never a moment of calm. Never a moment of darkness. There were always blaring horns and bright lights marking it a city of no sleep. Not in any iconic sense, sadly. In fact, you were certain that the only thing this city was famous for was the strange criminal that always marked the front pages.

He had never really been seen save for blurs and dark blobs in quick, panicked photos. But he would gather an army of grunts to take the fall for his heists and they all described him the same way. That should have helped the police find him, shouldn’t it? You assumed it would, but it had been years since you moved to the city and you’ve heard about him evading police without fail every month since.

Yet, somehow, you never felt very worried about him. He only robbed banks or high effort celebrities. He never went after minor jobs. And, since his entire crew would get captured once the heist was done, he was practically the only criminal left in the city. You wondered often about him. He was like some kind of Robin Hood and you had all the schoolgirl fantasies that went with that.

You moved here a long time ago to pursue a new life, following a job you had been offered. It had been generally fine. If not a bit anxiety inducing every time you hear the cacophony of police sirens following the most recent break in. You’ve quickly learned that you were safe, leaving the anxiety as more of a minor nuisance and loud noise than anything worth fearing.

You decided, one day after work, that you would take a detour on your way home. There was a small picnic-like area on the roof of the complex you lived in. It was run down and you only went up there once before to cook outside, but maybe you oughta clean it up a little and make it a nice space to be in once more. You had the routine of huddling at home immediately after work and today felt like the best day to break the routine a little. It was sunny. It was warm. The sirens had already chased their latest lead. It seemed like a chance to find peace.

The streets were a bit crowded with people wandering to and from the businesses on the strip whether for work or for leisure. You weaved through them with a purpose in your step. Now that you had something to look forward to, you felt a bit renewed like you haven’t been before. Sometimes, it’s hard to remember that you deserve to treat yourself. You had bought some string lights and disinfectant wipes while you were out in order to clean the area a little.

Finally at the complex, you took the elevator to the very top and stepped out onto the roof. The faded, gunked up tables were just where you had first found them. The communal grill was a lot cleaner than everything else solely because it would be borrowed often and people would clean it before using it. Usually. There were always some that just didn’t care.

You emptied your bag of your supplies and got to work. Wiping down the metal and scraping gum, bird scat, and other such grossness off of things before wiping it down many times more. It was a hard few hours of work, but you felt incredibly accomplished once you were finally done. You took a much needed break, sitting on the bench and looking up at the dark sky. You hadn’t realized it was night time already. You felt pretty good being able to get it all done in a day and now you had all night to relax.

It was growing colder as the night progressed, but not enough to make you want to go inside. You listened to music on your phone while you relaxed. All your favorite music in a specialized playlist so you wouldn’t have to keep skipping songs. Tedious to put together, but you were glad you took the time aside to do it. While listening to your music and looking up at the sky, you heard someone join you on the roof.

You paid them no mind and they did similarly for you. But the blaring sirens in the street below came unnervingly close and drowned out your music. You turned your phone off and looked over the ledge. The cars sped past to an upper class complex up the road where another heist must have happened. So you sighed and turned to take your seat once more only to find that the newcomer had stolen it.

“Hey,” You whined. You folded your arms and stepped up behind them, “I was using that.”

“Hm? Well, I’m using it now.” He grumbled, putting a hand through his hair. He sat splayed out, seemingly exhausted. His hair was over his face and he was wearing sunglasses still so late into the night. You raised a brow at him. You wandered over to another bench and plopped yourself down, grumbling as you fiddled with your phone. Waiting for the sirens to stop. It was too dark for you to make much of the man. All you knew was that he was dressed in long and dark clothes that hid the majority of his body.

The sirens left after a long time investigating the complex up the road. You breathed a sigh of relief that the loud noise was finally gone. The guy was sitting still that whole time, stretching once the police left and taking his sunglasses off. His eyes were stark white with nothing in them and they seemed to glow in the dark. You were taken aback by that.

“Finally. I thought they’d never leave.” He grumbled.

“Wh…” You blinked in surprise. You had never seen eyes like that and they unnerved you. He glanced at you and stood, slicking his hair back. He was much taller than you were, looking down at you as you sat with your phone in your hand. He dug his hand into the shadows, hidden by the dry and dying plants that had gone neglected for so long, and retrieved a heavy case.

“You didn’t see anything, got it?” He said sternly before turning away from you and standing on the ledge of the roof. You watched him, curious. As he stood on the ledge, he removed his coat and hung it on his arm. From his back spread a large, colorful pair of moth wings. You were even more taken aback, staring in confusion at what was happening to this random guy. You had no idea where he came from and no idea what he was.

He prepared to take off when something flashed behind him and startled him. He whipped around and found you aiming your phone at him. He dropped back down from the ledge and stomped up to you. The fury burning in the white voids of his eyes was unlike any you had seen before.

“What do you think you’re doing!?” He barked, reaching for your phone. You tucked it away quickly. No one would believe you met a fucking mothman if you didn’t have evidence. You can’t just get rid of it!

“Delete that. NOW.”

“No.”

“Wh--- What the hell do you mean “no?!’”

“I’m not deleting it.”

He stared at you incredulously and dragged his hand down his face. His wings drooped and he paced the rooftop as he thought about whatever. You looked at the picture on your phone, admiring the colors in his wings and cinematic look to the image. You wondered if the mothman lived in your building. Why else would he be on the roof? You laughed softly to yourself.

“I can’t let that image get out…” He grumbled. He sighed and scratched his neck. There was a lot of contemplating, lifting the case, looking at you, looking out to the streets. He seemed conflicted.

“Look. I’m not giving you any of the money, but there’s gotta be something I can do to get that image deleted.” He suggested.

“Money?”

He simply lifted the case to answer that question and placed a hand on his hip. The mystery around him and his cool appearance was very enticing. You wish you could know so much more about him. And his wings… you glanced at them again, studying the colors. You wondered what it was like to have wings. Weird that he has a case of money with him.

“So. What do you want? Help around your apartment? Someone to play DnD with?”

“Well… uhm…” You thought it over. You weren’t really sure what you wanted from him, “how about we start small. What’s your name?”

He raised a brow at you and turned his gaze away, sighing. “Thorne.”

“Thorne! Edgy, haha.” You snicker. He glared at you and grimaced. You gave him your name and he just nodded to acknowledge it. It was well into the night and the wind was beginning to pick up, making you shiver and hold yourself.

“Let’s get inside before we continue with this.”

Thorne didn’t have any arguments. It was probably better they were inside and somewhere private if he was going to be sticking around much longer. You took him to your apartment, finally kicking off your shoes and tossing your jacket onto your couch. Thorne didn’t remove anything and laid his coat on the couch as well. He stood by the door, arms folded.

With the lights on, you could decipher more of Thorne’s appearance. You stared at him for a moment. The puzzle pieces in your head clicked together finally and you dropped your mouth agape.

“Ooooohhhh…” You mused. Thorne was the criminal. Dressed exactly like the men would describe. But none of the information the authorities released said anything about him being a fuckin’ mothman. You supposed that was why he could get away so easily. He covered himself up and then escaped with his natural abilities.

“C’mon. We don’t have all night.” He grumbled. No wonder he wanted that picture gone. But now was your chance! All those Robin Hood fantasies could finally be fulfilled. And he was just as mysterious as you wanted him to be. Him being a monster was just icing on the cake.

“Is money the only limit in this exchange?” You asked, trying to be sneaky about it. Thorne squinted at you. That was an odd question that gave him the sense you wanted something super weird. You kinda did.

“What, you want me to murder someone or something?” He asked to gauge the field of your request.

“No.”

“Good. Uh, then yeah. Just not giving you cash.” He scratched his neck and dropped the case by his coat. You smiled devilishly and beckoned him to follow you. Thorne was getting some seriously weird vibes, but he needed that picture gone so he complied. You led him to your room and ushered him inside.

“I’ve been hoping to meet you for a long time.” You said, swaying your hips as you stepped past him and sat on the bed. Thorne was stoic. He kept to himself by the exit and didn’t give a reaction to you. “Since you’re offering, I’ll delete the image in exchange for a night of your company.” You smirked. Thorne grimaced and looked you over. There wasn’t much he could do if he wanted that picture deleted… Well, he could break the phone. He’s a thief after all, stealing it wouldn’t be hard.

On the other hand, you were fairly attractive. He weighed the situation. Leaving you in silence for a long while. You pursed your lips. He was taking his sweet time deciding and you were beginning to get annoyed. He could just say no. You'll think of something else.

"Alright. Fine. That seems easy enough to do." Thorne said with a shrug. His wings unfolded and he shook them out, casting a lavender dust all over the bedroom. It was pretty and mesmerizing, but you weren’t sure why he did it.

“What… What was that?” You murmured.

“Well, let’s call it Haze. Godly pheromones doing whatever whatever, not important.” Thorne waved a hand dismissively and pulled his turtleneck over his head. You watched him with interest, raising your brows at the toned body beneath that was covered in thick fuzz around his shoulders, forearms, and trailing down his stomach to vanish into his pants. You smirked at him. Thorne stepped up to you and combed a hand through your hair, petting your head. You took that as direction and started unbuckling his belt, pulling his jeans down and humming at the jungle of fuzz hiding his pelvis.

“Lots of fur.” You noted, putting your hands on his hips and surprising yourself with how soft the fur was. It was a very light purple and it was thick, cottony. It was just so soft. Like a poofy kitten. You giggled at that.

“Heh, You’d have to see me when I haven’t groomed.” Thorne snickered. You imagined what that meant, wondering how far all the fur must go and why he decided to leave it in the patches he did. You shrugged and gently prodded at his pelvis, attempting to find his piece. You reached down to feel along his undercarriage for a place to start, but you realized you couldn’t even find a sack on him. Do moths have testicles? Probably not externally… but…

“Need some help?”

“Maybe a little…”

“Yeah, probably don’t see a lot of inhumans. Here.” Thorne said, guiding your hand to the center of the fur forest. It was only about an inch deep, but it was hard for you to navigate alone. Your fingers grazed along a slit when you met his flesh and he shivered at the touch. You perked at that, tracing the slit up and down until you felt something pushing against your hand with gradually increasing force. After a short time, the appendage pushed out of the slit, extending to full length before your eyes. Far bigger and far weirder than any human members you have ever seen.

“Wow.” You breathed, in awe of what he had to offer. Thorne chuckled, hand on his hip while he pushed the other through the antennae and tendrils on his head. It was long and it grew much thicker at the base. The very tip of it was pink. You rubbed it up and down with both hands. It took a lot of focus from you to tend to the whole length. It made you curious what moth-women must be like if this was a necessary length.

“Just so you know, there is no way this will fit inside me.” You warned, kissing along it and stroking the rest.

“I know. I’ve slept around with humans before,” Thorne nodded, “that’s where the Haze comes in. It makes it much more enjoyable for you to take me.” Ah, so that’s what it was. He mentioned being godly before and you just accepted it without worrying about it. That Haze was definitely some kind of divine magic. You shrugged, it was all cool to you. You were getting what you asked for.

You sucked on the tip, dancing your tongue over the piece. You kissed and licked it. Your hands pressed into him as you stroked it. It felt sturdy beneath your fingers and you did what you could to soak it in your saliva without trying to take too much of it in your mouth. You didn’t even want to tempt fate with that. The Haze might be in effect, but your stomach was not in the mood. Thorne made soft sounds, but he wasn’t too enthused by it. He was probably used to his partners being a lot more experienced.

His piece stiffened until solid. You could see several small veins becoming apparent on its length. Thorne stopped you before it went further and beckoned for your hand, lifting you to your feet once you gave it to him. Thorne removed your clothes, hoisted you up, and tossed you into your bed. You yelped, hitting the soft mattress and nest of blankets with an oomph.

“Alright, I’m ready. How about you?” Thorne asked, climbing into the bed and gripping your ass, teasing your plump behind. You felt your face beginning to burn, glaring back at him.

“Hardly.” You huffed. Thorne shuffled down the bed a little towards your legs, laying on his stomach and wrapping his arms around your thighs and waist. You propped yourself up on your elbows and looked over at him, but he pressed on your back to flatten you down on the bed once more.

Thorne leaned in close, flicking his tongue against your clit and kissing your lips, trailing the pecks out to your inner thighs. You purred and pulled a pillow into your arms, resting your head on it. Thorne lapped at your slit, uncurling his insectoid tongue to snake it into your chasm. He slid a hand underneath you, keeping a hold on your thigh, and kneaded your clit in small circles. You squirmed a little, sighing happily at the pleasing sensations.

You felt a little more sensitive than you normally would. You chalk that up to Thorne’s Haze. You were glad to have it. It built you up quickly, waltzing you to the edge of your pleasure. His tongue danced against your walls, dipping outside to flick your clit as his fingers teased it before slithering back inside. You groaned softly, tensing as the sensations grew a little too much for you. His tongue was incredibly prehensile, curling around your clit while he pushed his fingers inside and prodded your walls.

“Nn~ That feels good.”

Thorne pulled back and chuckled, his breath grazing your lips. You shivered and buried your face into the pillow. You were plenty wet now. Slick and prepared for what was next. Thorne sat on his knees and pulled you to him by your waist, pressing his member between your cheeks and rubbing himself against you.

“Good. Once you cum we’re done, alright?” He said, holding one of your lips aside and lining up with you.

“Alright, fine… thanks for doing this.” You said.

“I’m just trying to get that picture deleted.” He made it feel like it was such a chore which didn’t make you feel very good about it. Emotionally. Physically, it felt very good. His long ass tongue felt great and you couldn’t wait to try his crazy cock. Only if he was sure he was willing to do this.

“My passcode is 3233.”

Thorne paused, his tip was just about to slip inside you. He furrowed his brow. His grip on your ass tightened a little but he didn’t move.

“Why?” He asked in a sharp tone. You grinned devilishly to yourself. Your cheeks in your hands and propped up on your elbows. You refused to answer just to be cheeky, but Thorne was running low on patience. He smacked your ass and made you yelp. You laughed at that, though. Spanking you was his first response?

“Answer me.”

“That way, you have the choice to keep going or leave.” You said.

“I’ve always had that choice. I’ve broken into much harder technology than some fucking cellphone. You think you’re being cute?” He huffed.

“You’re awfully impatient for someone who could stop whenever he wants.” You pointed out, wiggling your hips a little. Thorne growled. You were really pissing him off. He gripped your hips and pulled you flush against him, spearing into you without easing you into it. His Haze allowed you to take in the entirety of his piece with no pain, but you could definitely feel some of the pressure within. You involuntarily groaned, trying to stifle it with your teeth.

“I’m not done with you yet.” He growled. You shuddered. The tone dug into you and made you realize something very new about yourself. Your face had grown hot and you bit your lip. You opened your mouth to tease him some more, but he slammed his hips into yours and made you cry out.

“Shut up.” He warned. You did as you were told, burying your face in the pillow and stifling your sounds as Thorne thrust into you. He pulled your waist into him as he thrusted, his pants and growls filling the room and giving you the music of your own ravishing. You tried to keep your voice down, but the pressure dangled you over the edge of your pleasure, his rough grip and gruff groans were only making it worse.

“Ngh, fuck~” You moaned through gritted teeth. Thorne grabbed you by your shoulder and lifted you up, wrapping an arm around your stomach to trap you against his chest. His antennae curled over his head and into your view. His arms were powerful and his chest was solid against your back. He was fuzzy and soft in places, but the rest of him was thick muscle. His cock burying deep into you pushed you closer and closer to your edge. It didn’t even feel like the long, inhuman piece it appeared to be once it pierced you.

Thorne’s breath billowed over your shoulder. He grinned, his grunts becoming louder and his bucks much more wild. You tensed and pressed against him, your pussy clenching as you were finally thrown over the edge into the sea of pleasure, allowing it to wash over you. You shuddered and you felt yourself growing weak. Thorne breathed a laugh, but he didn’t stop. You tapped his arm and closed your eyes, panting.

“No, no. You don’t get to go that easy. We’re not done until I say so.” He growled, picking you up and slipping off the bed, pressing you against the wall. Your legs were starting to feel weak, shaking as he pressed you to the wall and took you with the same fervor as before. He seemed like he would never give up. His body trapped you against the wall. He pinned your arms to your back and pressed his forehead against the wall, looking down at your form and reveling in your desperate whines.

Thorne panted and grunted, the end of his rope drawing near. He bucked hard, burying himself to his hilt inside you and groaning loud as he finally came. You could feel his cock throbbing deep inside you, milked by your clenching pussy. Each throb filled you more and more with his seed until you just felt so full. Thorne growled faintly, breathing heavily. He slowly pulled out of you, his cock hanging limp as he stepped back and guided you so you fell on your bed instead of sinking to the floor.

You shuddered now that he was removed from you, gripping your sheets as the final echoes of pleasure traveled through you. Your head was swimming and everything seemed to teeter around you.

Thorne huffed, grabbing your phone from your pants on the floor and unlocking it, deleting the photos. You could hear him tap at your phone, but you didn’t bother to look at what was going on. You were in bliss. Whatever he did at this point was nothing of any importance to you. His clothes rustled as he got dressed, his boots clicking as he left the room, the door shutting behind him on his way out. It was over and done.

You woke from a short nap and left to clean yourself up in the bathroom, taking a shower and wiping down so you could get some real sleep for your day to go as normal tomorrow. You saw your phone on the side table and decided to put on some music for bed when you saw your camera album was still open. Your pictures of Thorne in his get up were gone, but you had a new photo you didn’t take.

Thorne left you a memento. A picture of himself, full body, no face. His whole form was available for you to use whenever you have a craving for moth meat. You’ll have to keep that to yourself. You’ll be using it a lot.

#younme #x reader #reader insert #female reader #oc x reader #original character #mothman #monster x reader #smut

21 notes · View notes

milkinawineglass · 4 months

Text

when i was younger, there was a window of time where i would always say my favorite color was yellow. it wasn't, my favorite colors are pink and red, but i really wanted yellow to be my favorite color. i had made up a few reasons for it, i guess? it seemed significant to van gogh, and since he was (or is) my favorite artist, i wanted to have some extra connection to him, somehow. my childhood blankets were mostly yellow, and i had yellow walls and yellow furniture and yellow bedsheets and yellow sketchbooks - i really liked yellow! but i didn't love yellow. or i did, in some way, but it wasn't my favorite. at some point, i got really frustrated, because i kept saying yellow was my favorite color and it wasn't! it never was! i don't know why i got so angry, since it was my fault, but i did. "my favorite color is red! why have i been lying about something so stupid!? what's the point of all this yellow stuff!? why does it even matter!?" i don't really have answers to those things, but they were on my mind for months, on and off, as i sought out as much red clothing as i could bury myself in. growing up, almost all the cleaning supplies in my house was either lemon or orange scented. the soap, the sanitizer, the disinfecting wipes, the furniture polish, sometimes even the febreeze was lemon scented. i still can't eat anything lemon or orange flavored because it just tastes like cleaner to me. i don't mind the smell much, but the taste is awful, and pretty much any citrus tastes gross really fast. i do think its funny that eating citrus is now like filling my mouth with soap. i also think its funny that my cat, my best friend since i was 13, is named after a citrus. "Tango" is a basic orange cat name, so i've heard, but that's still kind of a shortened version of "tangerine" - at least that's what my dad intended. (i also, as an artist, keep making citrus-themed characters, because i like the look of an orange or lemon cross-section. it's ''iconic'', as i said one late night in april last year.) yellow is not my favorite color, but it is something i can rely on. red is my favorite color, but i can't use it for everything. somehow, orange still reminds me of home and of safety. there's another whole tangent about that, but i feel like this is already disjointed. i don't know what the point was.

#quinn speaks #save

33 notes · View notes

pleathewrites · 3 months

Text

bellow the fire into my deadened lungs

chapter 1 excerpt — dabihawks first kiss read full story here

October

Sometimes, Hawks will visit Dabi outside of their scheduled meetings.

As these impromptu visits escalate in frequency, the scarred man begins to get comfortable, and Hawks begins to notice things about him — really precious things.

Dabi likes to wear delicate things, like boy shorts and panties because boxers and briefs tug too harshly on his staples. When he’s home, he forgoes pants as much as possible because the denim of his jeans scrapes against the seams. The same goes for tops, the scarred-man favoring necklines that will swoop far beneath the stitching on his chest to avoid any type of friction. His cheap apartment is cleaner than Hawks’, the strong smell of lemon disinfectant always lingering in the air. Dabi’s pillow is a flattened lumpy thing, but the covering is pristine and softer than the expensive sheets Hawks has in his own apartment.

Dabi takes care of himself in the gentlest ways, and Hawks can’t help but wonder if anyone else has ever treated this man the slightest bit gentle. He worries about the answer, even though he shouldn’t.

He knew infiltrating the League would be dangerous. He knew getting on the good side of the infamous flame-villain would be difficult and trying. He just never expected his own heart would get involved.

The first time Hawks kisses him, they’re sitting on Dabi’s bed while he ashes his cigarette. He’s wearing nothing but black panties and his flimsy white tee. The moonlight is shining across his face so, so prettily, reflecting off his staples like diamonds, and Hawks gets lost in the glimmer of his bright blue eyes. Dabi’s turning his head, opening his mouth to speak, and whatever he meant to say gets lost between Hawks' teeth.

For a sweet second, those multi-textured lips are pliant as they push against Hawks’ own, but then Dabi is pushing back with a gasp, “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” He answers, when he really wants to say, ‘Something finally for myself.’

For the first time since Hawks has known Dabi, the villain looks scared.

A scarred hand comes up to cup Hawks’ face, printless fingertips brushing Hawks’ cheekbones, and Dabi’s heavily-lidded eyes flicker once to Hawks’ mouth before moving back to his eyes. Dabi’s own sharpen coldly, “Why?”

And Hawks can only answer honestly.

“Because I want to.”

“That’s not good enough,” Dabi lets go.

Hawks moves his own hands to cup those scarred cheeks, “Because I want you.”

“You don’t even know me.”

And that’s true. Just because they share a couple stories here and there about who they used to be, Hawks doesn’t really know Dabi. There are twenty-plus years of life this man has gone through, and Hawks knows it will probably take years for him to fully know and understand the man in front of him, and vice-versa.

But, “I want to. And I want you to know me.”

“Ha!” Dabi scoffs, “Oh, really, Hawks? ” it’s practically a sneer, and Hawks can feel Dabi pulling back, away from him, away from this — all of this that’s been bubbling up to right here, right now, this very moment.

And he starts to panic, “Keigo. My name is Takami Keigo, but I don’t use it. At all.”

Dabi stops moving and his mouth gapes.

Hawks has seen a lot of beautiful people, with pretty pink mouths — small and plump and big and thin, all kinds.

He’s never seen a pair that made him want to act so badly, though, not until he met Dabi.

Those two-toned lips are moving, the top slightly plumper than the bottom, its cupid’s bow rounded out and puffy, and the scarred half contrasts so nicely against Dabi’s perfect pearly-white teeth.

“What’s the point of tellin’ me?”

Dabi looks scared again, but the way his thin chest expands and his cheeks flush — so pink, the prettiest shade of pink Hawks has ever seen — Hawks thinks he also looks excited.

Hawks lets one of his hands travel down Dabi’s side, “Because I want you to use it,” he squeezes at the healthy skin of Dabi’s thigh, “And I think you want to, as well.”

Hawks doesn’t realize he’s pulling Dabi’s legs open and pushing the villain back until he registers the way Dabi’s leg, the one in his hold, unfolds from its position and wraps around his waist, “Okay. Keigo.”

The last thing he sees is the way Dabi’s hair halos over his pillow under the cold light of the moon as he presses the scarred man against the beaten mattress.

They make out the entire night.

Keigo doesn’t get a single bit of useful information other than precisely the way Dabi’s body feels under his own.

read full story here

my other works

19 notes · View notes

homemakinghippie · 4 months

Text

DIY Cleaning Products 101

Personally I don't love the ingredients in most conventional cleaning products. They generally have artificial fragrance and other endocrine disrupters and things you don't really want to be breathing in. For the last year I have been making most of my own cleaning products and in addition to being healthier, I've noticed I save money doing this as well. I want to share some of my favorite recipes for cleaning products, but there are definitely things you need to know about the different ingredients first so I'm sharing this first.

Vinegar- Vinegar is an amazing all purpose cleaner for tables, counters, any surfaces that aren't natural stone like marble or granite. I also love using it for washing produce and replacing fabric softener (no your fruit won't taste like vinegar and your clothes won't smell like it). It can effectively remove some pesticide residue, as well as help the produce last longer. Some recipes you find online recommend mixing vinegar with baking soda or castile soap-neither of these should be mixed with vinegar. Both baking soda and castile soap have a basic pH, while vinegar is acidic. Mixing baking soda and vinegar makes a cool chemical reaction, but you're left with fancy salt water. Mixing it with castile soap basically unsaponifies the soap, making it completely useless as well. If you want to add some scent to your vinegar you can add citrus peels or pine needles to it and let them sit for a few weeks before straining. NEVER mix vinegar with bleach or hydrogen peroxide. Vinegar and bleach makes chlorine gas, vinegar and hydrogen peroxide makes peracetic acid. Both of these are extremely dangerous.

Baking Soda- Baking soda is a great abrasive for scrubbing, and a great deodorizer. I use baking soda on my glass top stove, scrubbing my toilets, scrubbing the shower, anywhere I need extra scrubbing help. As I mentioned before it shouldn't be mixed with vinegar because they cancel each other out. I do like using it with castile soap for bathroom cleaning though.

Castile soap- Castile soap has soooo many uses. If you've ever looked at a bottle of Dr Bronner's you've seen the huge list of things they recommend it for. It shouldn't be mixed with vinegar, but castile soap can leave behind some soap scum if you have hard water so rinsing with a vinegar/water mix after use is often recommended. I like using it in the bathroom as well as dish and hand soap (I wouldn't put this in your dishwasher though, hand washing only with this).

70% Isopropyl Alcohol- Also known as rubbing alcohol, 70% isopropyl alcohol is a great disinfectant. When using it you need to make sure you're using 70%. This is a standard dilution you can get at the store, but many people don't realize how important the dilution percentage is. If you mix it with water there won't be enough alcohol to disinfect, and if you use higher than 70% there's too much alcohol and it will evaporate before it can do it's job. I use this all over my house from the kitchen, to the bathroom, to disinfecting my nail supplies after doing an at home manicure. It also works amazingly as a glass cleaner.

Hydrogen Peroxide- Hydrogen peroxide is another great disinfectant, but it's not one I personally use as much. I keep it in my cleaning closet in case I want it for something, but unlike alcohol it needs to be wiped away after sitting for a bit.

19 notes · View notes

360infotechreview · 1 year

Text

How much does it cost to get your carpet professionally cleaned?

Carpet cleaning services is an important aspect of maintaining a clean and healthy home environment. While vacuuming can help keep the surface of your carpet free from dirt and debris, professional cleaning is often necessary to remove deep-seated dirt, bacteria, and allergens. The cost of professional carpet cleaning varies depending on several factors, including the size of your home, the type of carpet, and the level of cleaning required.

Typically, the average cost of professional carpet cleaning service is between $100 and $300, but this can vary greatly depending on the size of your home and the amount of carpeting. For example, a small apartment or studio may only cost $100 to clean, while a large home with multiple rooms and a lot of carpeting could cost up to $300 or more.

The type of carpet also affects the cost of cleaning. Synthetic carpets are usually cheaper to clean than wool or other natural fibers because they do not require as much special care. However, if your carpet is made of a delicate material, you may need to pay extra to ensure that it is cleaned properly without causing damage.

The level of cleaning required is another factor that can affect the cost of carpet cleaning. A basic cleaning, which involves vacuuming and spot cleaning, will be less expensive than a deep cleaning, which involves hot water extraction or steam cleaning. Deep cleaning is necessary if you have heavy traffic, pets, or if your carpet has not been cleaned in a while.

In conclusion, the cost of professional carpet cleaning services can vary greatly depending on the size of your home, the type of carpet, and the level of cleaning required. It is important to choose a reputable and experienced cleaning company to ensure that your carpet is cleaned properly and that you receive a fair price for the service. Consider getting multiple quotes from different companies to find the best deal. Additionally, ask about any special offers or discounts, as many companies offer these to attract new customers.

0 notes

swabian-princess · 1 year

Text

Domestic engineer tales - daily cleaning routine

Hey girlies,

as we all know - I'm a proud domestic engineer (aka SAHGF) and while this life is very soft I still have responsibilities. One of them is cleaning.

I grew up with a mother that wasn't about cleaning all the time. Sure, the basics were always done but she wasn't bothered if some pet hair was on the couch or if the kitchen wasn't cleaned until the next day.

Well, my bf is the direct opposite. He hates dirt, dust, stains, pet hair and the list goes on. Basically - he wants our apartment to look like nobody lives there. He's a perfectionist and he can't relax if he suspects the apartment is not clean. That's when I enter the game - it's my task to tidy the apartment every day, so he can come home and simply relax.

I'm not going to lie - it was really rough in the beginning because it seems like this man can smell a faint stain on a towel ten miles away.

Realize that maintenance is key!

It took some time for me to realize this. Just trust me - it's way easier to clean just a little bit every day than to spend hours cleaning once a week.

1. vacuuming

My first step is always vacuuming the whole apartment. I need roughly 30-45 min to thoroughly vacuum the apartment. My holy grail tip is to invest in a wireless vacuum cleaner. It doesn't have to be the newest dyson! In fact, bf and I have three vacuum cleaners: two dysons, one of them wireless and one Phillips, and I absolutely prefer the Philipps one over both the dysons.

2. dusting

I hate dust. It makes my nose itch and my eyes water - so there is a strong no dust policy in my home! I just grab an good old swiffer and simply dust off all my counters and all the surfaces in the apartment.

3. disinfect

I blame the pandemic for my urge to disinfect everything. I love sagrotan cleaning wipes and I always buy them in bulk when they're on sale. I wipe down my kitchen counters and every other surface in the apartment. I've been doing this for a few months now and I don't see any damage on our furniture that could be caused by the wipes.

I also wipe down my bathrooms - my sink, the water taps and the complete toilet. I also spray down the toilet and my door handles with disinfectantspray for extra protection.

4. polishing

We have quite a few glass surfaces that need to be polished every day because they tend to get grease stains very easily. I take a microfiber towel and a cotton towel and spray those surfaces with a special glass cleaner, rub it in with the microfiber towel and dry with the cotton towel for a streak free finish.

5. couch vacuuming

It was not the best decision to get two white/grey coated cats with long and fine hair while still having a black couch. You. can. see. every. single. hair. I'm very happy that our Philipps vacuum comes with a special attachment for pet hair removal. I use it on both of our couches and the attachment works like a charm. No more hairs!

6. making sure it smells good

A good smelling apartment is mandatory for me because I believe that a good smelling apartment makes living way more enjoyable.

I make sure to clean the cats' litterboxes frequently - I try to scoop the litter out immediately after they finished their business. Nothing is worse than the smell of cat shit or piss and I know way to many people that have their whole apartment smell like their cats litterbox because they neglect cleaning it.

I also spritz our couch and our carpets down with some Febreeze golden orchid cushion cleaner. It smells heavenly and the smell stays for hours! It's also pet safe, so don't worry.

Last but not least - candles. I like to light some scented candles in different rooms of the apartment to make sure that it smells nice everywhere. My current favorites are the yankee candles in vanilla cupcake and sunny daydream!

It takes me around 3hours daily to finish cleaning the apartment and that's only maintenance.

I deep clean different rooms on different days during the week. My daily tasks also include loading and unloading the dish washer, doing laundry, cooking and cleaning the kitchen after cooking.

lots of love

Selene

110 notes · View notes

mydemonsdrivealimo · 6 months

Text

Halloween (chapter 1)

Book: Open Heart

Chapter: 1/7

Pairing: Multi (Bryce Lahela x Jensen Valentine (MC), Jensen Valentine x Original Characters)

Characters: Jensen Valentine, Bryce Lahela, Aliyah (OC), Aurora Emery

Rating: Teen

Words: 1266

Summary: A collection of moments throughout Jensen's life, focused on his struggles and accomplishments because of and, more importantly, despite the one relationship he can't seem to let go of. Inspired by Halloween by Noah Kahan.

A/N: This is the most future-based part of the fic, and it actually addresses some hcs I haven't mentioned publicly yet. As I post more chapters, they will go in reverse chronological order, and the relationship in reference will become more clear

Lyrics:

But the wreckage of you, I no longer reside in

And the bridges have long since been burnt

The ash of the home that I started the fire in

It starts to return to the Earth.

The snow pummeled into the ground, large clusters of snowflakes settling on his shoulders and hair. Jensen tucked one of his gloved hands into his pocket as he hurried inside.

He caught the door with his elbow, greeted by the familiar smell of alcohol disinfectant and lemon cleaner. Patients and doctors milled about the lobby as he headed for the elevators. After a few floors, the doors slid open, the floor relatively empty save for a few nurses chatting around the small station just off from the elevators.

“Aw, Valentine, d’you get us something?” one of them—Samara—asked with a grin. He glanced down to the takeout bag in his hand she was referencing.

Continuing down the hall, he replied, “Nope, sorry. Just Bryce and I today.”

“Wow, favoritism, I see how it is,” she said with a sarcastic eye roll, Jensen giving her a quick smile before continuing towards the diagnostics office.

The lights flickered on to a steady, fluorescent glow, Jensen dropping his pile of things onto the center table. The others had coats, bags, and charts spread out here and there, most with patients or out for lunch themselves.

Checking his watch proved that Bryce was five minutes late. He gave him until he pulled their food out of the bag, spreading the takeout boxes across two adjacent seats before pulling his phone out of his pocket. In the time it took him to type out something and press send, the door gently creaked behind him.

“Hey, sorry,” Bryce said, giving his waist a quick squeeze before unceremoniously flopping into one of the chairs, the force sending it back enough that Jensen had to pull him closer.

“You’re lucky I didn’t lock you out and eat it for you,” Jensen said with a quick wave to the food in front of him, taking a seat in his own chair. “M’fucking starving.” He was already shoveling crab rangoon into his mouth, ignoring the steam coming off of it.

“I can tell,” Bryce offered with an exaggeratedly judgemental look. Jensen kicked his chair, sending him rolling away once again. Laughing, Bryce scooted himself back to the table.

He got a grand total of three bites in before he was telling Jensen about his surgery from that morning. Jensen was happy to see him excited about it, especially knowing how slow it had been with mostly post-op check-ins and consults for the last couple days.

By the time they were both nearly done, Jensen had his feet propped on Bryce’s lap, head resting on his arm over the back of the chair as he listened to Bryce talk about his schedule for the next couple weeks. He happily nodded and offered input where necessary, but, as per usual, he was content just listening to Bryce talk, turning off his brain for the first time all day.

The only thing that stopped Bryce was his pager going off, Jensen giving him a sigh and a look as if it was his fault. Bryce smiled and started to clean up just as the door opened again.

“I think my face is still frozen,” Des said as they approached, wrapped up in winter gear from head to toe.

“Not quite Florida, is it?” Jensen asked, receiving a glare in return. Des had only moved up a few months ago, but they were settling into the team just fine. Maybe not the weather, but definitely the team.

“Okay, I’m not saying this on record, by the way,” Bryce said, stopping at the large glass wall of windows, “But honestly it is pretty with the snow.”

Jensen shook his head as he walked over next to him, tossing the empty containers in the trash. “Wow, really? It’s almost like I’ve been telling you that since we were in Boston,” he replied, entirely deadpan.

Bryce gave him a mocking expression, Jensen smiling as he followed his gaze out to the icy Lake Michigan, snow piled up along the edge of the water. Chicago winter could keep even the most dedicated runners inside, a notable lack of movement outside. The trees and ground were white, but the walkway along the water was twinkling with festive lights, entirely lit when night fell.

Bryce gave him a quick smile before scooting past, giving Des a wave before heading off.

“Oh, Tara told me to invite you guys to the Tavern tonight, by the way. We’re going pretty late, but if you get time you should stop over for a drink,” Des said as they arranged their things at their seat.

“We’ve got plans tonight, thanks though.”

“Shit, you literally said you had dinner plans, right? I forgot.”

Jensen nodded and waved it off before grabbing a few charts from the desk, thumbing past a few pages. He collected the necessary things before heading off to grab some results for their most recent case.

The midwestern-based diagnostics division had been his most dedicated project for the past four years. Doing split time for the first two was hell, so many flights and so many nights away from home, one he nor Bryce really enjoyed. But, now, he was content. They were content. Him, Bryce, Barry, and Corn all comfortably settled into a downtown apartment, able to enjoy the bustling city nightlife, events, and opportunities.

Jensen met Bryce at home later that night, Aliyah already comfortably settled in the kitchen awaiting his arrival. Corn didn’t even bother to greet him, too worried about the potential of a chip falling off the counter from the bowl Liyah and Bryce were both picking at.

Bryce greeted him with a smile and a quick kiss to the cheek, Jensen giving Corn a look. “At least someone missed me,” he said.

“She just likes me more,” Liyah said with a smile, Jensen rolling his eyes and shedding his many winter layers on the way to the bedroom.

On his way back, he scooped Barry out from under the bed, holding him up in the air as he meowed in protest. Bryce was happy to give Barry shit for nothing in particular with him, Jensen finally dropping him into his arms, carrying him like a baby towards the living room.

Their couch was dark green, adjacent to their tête-à-tête sofa. The room was doused in cool yet natural colors, light boxes keeping it bright despite the early winter darkness. Their Christmas tree in the corner brought some warmth to the room with yellow lights and a messy mix of ornament types. Out the main windows was the familiar sight of a glittering Chicago night, lights scattered throughout the surrounding apartment buildings and shimmering against the falling snow.

Jensen set Barry onto the cat tower overlooking the street, watching him settle in before returning to the kitchen.

The door opened before he could get there, Aurora and her partner, Z, both entering with dishes of food. Jensen was quick to help them, setting out the food along the dining room table with the dish Aliyah had brought, as well as the filler he and Bryce covered.

It was part of their monthly routine, one dinner where they get together and all make something different. The rest of the night was spent talking and drinking and lounging around in the living room after dessert. And they could do it comfortably. With nice furniture, and with plenty of space for everyone, and no worry of cost or rent or food or just fucking surviving. He was comfortable, with the people he cared the most about, and doing what he loved. And that was all that mattered.

tagging: @jerzwriter @cariantha @kyra75 @gutsfics @inlocusmads @choicesficwriterscreations

#jensen valentine #bryce lahela × jensen valentine #bryce lahela #open heart #open heart mc #open heart choices #open heart fic #open heart fanfiction #choices fanfic #choices pixelberry

19 notes · View notes