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science-hoes · 3 months ago

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Daylight: Month Two

Michael Robinavitch x Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical medical descriptions, mentions of child loss, Robby’s arm tats

Chapters: Month One, Month Two,Month Three, Month Four

Description: Robby and the reader enjoy domestic bliss and the annoyances of pregnancy, but a patient case that hits close to home wedges between them.

Michael Robinavitch Masterlist

—————

The thick smell of bacon lured you awake before your alarm clock ever went off. When you opened your eyes, darkness still blanketed the bedroom. No crack of light stretching between the blackout curtains just yet. Only the illumination of the alarm clock on Robby’s side of the bed gave you an indication of the time. 4:18am.

You already knew Robby was out of bed aside from the obvious aroma and sounds coming from the kitchen. He usually had you tucked into his side, your head resting on his shoulder, his arm snug around your waist. His absence left you feeling incomplete…but you had the whole bed to yourself. You sprawled your limbs out across the mattress, mirroring a starfish. Your eyes fell heavy again, content with a smile, ready to sleep for two more hours before your alarm.

But the bacon smelled so good.

Like a zombie, possessed by an unknown virus, you sat up in bed. Your legs swung off the mattress, not even taking a moment to stretch. Before you could evaluate the pros and cons of abandoning the empty bed that you rarely get to have to yourself, your feet padded across the wooden floor, shuffling until they hit the cold tile of the kitchen. Damn. The baby must really want some bacon.

In the low glow of the light above the stove, Robby was searing the final batch of bacon on a sizzling pan. Dressed in only gray sweatpants with his glasses perched on the sharp bridge of his nose. Black ink slithered around his biceps, Memento Mori and Amor Fati, his constant reminders of the fragility of life. His hands worked diligently, ridges of veins and tendons competing against each other as he flipped over the strips of bacon with a regular fork.

A splatter of burning fat made a beeline for his broad chest, landing on the bare skin.

“Ah, fuck.” He hissed, recoiling at the brand it made on his flesh.

You giggled, alerting him of your presence. “You know, you’re a hypocrite.” You teased.

Robby raised an eyebrow but smiled nonetheless at your presence. “How’s that?” He asked.

“Always grumbling about patients who put themselves in ridiculous situations that get them hurt.” You explained, then gestured towards him. “Yet here you are, cooking bacon with a fork and no shirt.”

Your boyfriend chuckled, returning his focus back to the crisping strips of meat in front of him. “Do as I say, not as I do.” He defended.

You walked up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist, your hands clasping on his warm, toned abdomen. You peppered kisses on his back, catching the freckles with your lips. “Why are you up so early?” You asked.

Robby let out an exasperated sigh, already feeling the weight of his shift on his shoulders. “Quarterly chiefs meeting at six.” He answered.

Your cheek pressed against his spine as you moved your hands to his waist, massaging the skin there. “Couldn’t be a Zoom meeting?”

He chuckled insincerely. “Oh, no. Gloria likes to do her berating in person.” He said as he began to fish out the perfectly crispy strips and place them on the plate next to the stove.

“Humiliation kink?”

“I think it’s more of a voyeurism thing.”

Shared laughter filled the air, the most familiar sound of the kitchen in your home aside from the Eagles on vinyl and medical news podcasts.

Robby clicked off the stove after removing the final piece of bacon from the pan. “You know, I’m still not on board with the whole bacon thing.” He mumbled.

You shrugged, snatching a piece from the plate and taking a bite. “It’s only a problem if you undercook it. Did you?” You teased.

Just like the day you found out you were pregnant, he gave you an offended look. “Of course not. I don’t undercook my food. Ever.” He jabbed a finger softly at your shoulder.

“Besides. It’s what the baby wants. Not me. Who am I to say no?” You added.

Robby peered over his glasses to look you in the eyes. Gosh, you loved that stern, sexy professor glare he always gave you. “The baby should want eggs instead. Safer and good source of protein.” He lectured and pointed over to the plate of yellow fluff on the other counter that he made before you woke up.

Once you made eye contact with the scrambled eggs and its smell connected with your olfactory nerve, your mouth watered mid-bacon crunch, and not in the good way. Immediately, you sprinted to the bathroom, making it just in time to puke your guts out. Robby wasn’t far behind, and he pulled your hair out of your face as your body reeled from the very smell of eggs. It didn’t last for long, just a few seconds, and when the nausea subsided, you slouched back into his embrace.

“See. The baby is in charge.” You said with a small giggle, wiping the corner of your mouth with the sleeve of your (Robby’s) sweatshirt that you slept in.

Robby pressed a kiss to the back of your head, cradling you in his lap. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know he was as stubborn as his mom.” He teased, throwing in his guess at the baby’s gender.

You scoffed, reaching behind you to poke his stomach, making him flinch at the ticklish sensation. “She’s as stubborn as her dad.” You corrected, slating your guess as well.

He held you in his embrace for another moment before tilting your head to look up at him. His glasses were askew now, hair still in disarray from sleep. He traced his thumb across your cheek, wiping away a tear that formed while you threw up. “Are you gonna be okay to go to work by yourself?” He asked.

Your natural reaction would have been to roll your eyes at your boyfriend’s silly question. Of course you could get to work by yourself. You managed to do it every day before moving in with him several months ago. The drive was short, the parking garage was safe. Safe-ish anyway. But you could see the worry in his eyes. The same look he gave you every time that he knew he wasn’t going to be there to protect you. That look had been more frequent over the last month. But this was the first morning that he couldn’t take you to work with him.

You tilted your head into his touch, letting his hand hold your weight. “I’ll be fine. I’ll text when I leave here.” You promised.

“And when you get there.” He added.

A small laugh left your chest through your nose. “You’ll see me when I’m there.” You reminded him.

Robby pressed his bottom lip tightly against his top lip, his characteristic expression of stress. “I know. I just…if I’m with a patient. I want to know exactly when you’re safely inside.” He explained.

You wanted to joke that there was hardly a difference in crime rate between the inside and outside of the Pitt. But his eyes, fuck, those gorgeous, earthy brown eyes were a stargate to his vulnerability. Instead, you nodded. “Okay, I will.”

The laugh lines around his eyes deepened as his cheeks rose with a smile. “Thank you.” He said before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, his glasses bumping against your nasal bone as he did.

You scrunched your nose as you smiled into the kiss. “I just threw up. You still wanna kiss me?” You asked.

Robby chuckled and secured you tightly in his arms before standing up, eliciting snaps, crackles, and pops from his ancient joints. But he still moved with ease and strength as he carried you back to bed. “Unfortunately, my love, your vomit is not the worst thing to ever get in my mouth.” He replied.

You laughed as he delicately deposited your body onto the soft mattress. “Gross.” You deadpanned, snuggling back under the covers.

He sat on the edge of the bed, arranging the blankets to cocoon your frame. “When you’ve been an ER doc for twenty years, then you can come talk to me.” He warned, leaning over to give you one last kiss before rising.

You smirked as he turned to walk away. “Yeah, I’ll make sure to stop by your grave that day and tell you all about it.”

Robby stopped in his tracks, stunned, then he hunched over with an explosion of laughter. He turned and launched onto the bed, tackling you, carefully all the while, and pressed a scratchy kiss on your cheek. “Oh, I’ll be here for another twenty five years. Can’t get rid of me that easy.” Another kiss to your giggling mouth. “I’m gonna die in the Pitt anyway.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, and your cheeks ached from smiling and his bearded kisses. “I thought you and Jack were gonna hold hands and jump off the roof together.” You teased.

Robby nodded. “Yep, that’s the plan.” He agreed.

“Then you’ll die in front of the Pitt. Not in the Pitt.”

An eye roll. “Grammar police.”

A smirk. “Actually, it’s semantics police.”

He rolled off your body and hopped off the bed. “Okay, that’s enough of you for one morning.” He joked, but turned as he made it to the doorway. “I’ll make you a smoothie and put it in the fridge to grab before you leave. Prenatal vitamins will be on the counter with a water bottle. And I’ll handle the eggs.” He said.

You craned your neck towards the door to catch a glimpse of his silhouette framed by the distant light of the kitchen. “You’re doing so much for me. I don’t know how to ever repay you.” You mused out loud.

Although you couldn’t see it in the darkness, you knew Robby smiled. “You’re giving me a baby. I’m forever indebted to you.” He countered. “Get some rest. Enjoy having the whole bed to yourself.” You could practically hear him wink before he walked back to the kitchen.

You couldn’t wipe the smile off your face as you closed your eyes. You felt so loved, so happy, so…at peace.

…

The peace didn’t last for long. You had texted Robby the moment you walked through the doors of the Pitt, just like you promised. But you received no confirmation that he received it. He had been elbows deep in a gunshot victim from the moment he stepped out of that quarterly meeting. You could see him towering over the other providers in Trauma One, commanding the room with a respected power.

You leaned against one of the Hub desks, looking toward Dana. “They need any help in there?” You asked.

Dana shook her head, desk phone against her ear. “No, we’ll need you out here. MVC, pregnant woman coming in. They think she’s preeclampsic and in active labor.” She answered. “We’ll need Trauma Two.”

You nodded and hustled to the ambulance bay, snatching a yellow gown on your way. McKay met you outside and tied the back of your gown, then you tied hers. “Preeclampsia is some scary shit.” She murmured. “Happened to me with Harrison.”

“Is she full term?” You questioned, moving your ponytail out from the neck of the gown where it had been tucked in.

“They didn’t say. I already paged NICU.”

The sound of sirens loomed closer, and the rig turned the corner, thundering towards the bay. A swarm of more nurses and residents appeared to help unload the patient. Blood covered her hands and legs, and one arm draped over her swollen abdomen, bent out of shape.

As you moved along the gurney, heeding the less-than-stellar vitals being screamed in your ear, the woman reached out to you in the chaos.

“Please, save my baby. Please.” The woman on the gurney begged you, clutching your yellow gown with her bloodied hand, leaving its mark on the sheer material.

You didn’t know why she said it to you. Maybe because you were a woman. Maybe because you were around her age. Maybe she had a sixth sense and knew you were pregnant, too. A few months ago, you wouldn’t have given much thought to her words and proceeded with the most logical treatment. But the desperation in her voice struck a chord with you.

You followed the team into Trauma Two, and within seconds, Robby popped in from the adjacent room. McKay read out her vitals, and you placed the fetal heart monitor over her belly. Medicines were ordered to fix the blood pressure and stop the labor, but nothing seemed to work. The fetal heart rate was dropping, the woman began to have intense vaginal bleeding. Placental abruption was taking its course. Finally, a cold statement cut through the madness that sent you into a spiral:

“Start putting efforts towards the mother. She’s got a better chance.” The order came from Robby’s mouth.

You froze and stared at him. “No, she said she wants to save her baby.” You said.

Robby’s eyes met yours for just a moment, an indecipherable flicker in them, before continuing to work with his hands to stop the bleeding. “Her mental state was altered, she can’t make that decision.” He replied firmly.

In an incredibly rare stroke of defiance, you countered with: “Did you do a neuro eval?” Robby didn’t look at you and didn’t stop working. No answer. “No? That’s what I thought.”

Robby barked orders for more units of blood. The beeping of the fetal monitor began to drop lower and lower. “You need to back down. You are the resident.” He hissed.

The tension in the room was heavy, every other nurse and doctor eyeing each other as they all worked in tandem to stabilize the patient from Robby’s instruction. “She expressed her wishes to me. She told me what she wanted. She had the capacity to make the decision, and her autonomy should be-“ You continued.

But Robby cut you off with, “I don’t need a fucking lecture in bioethics. We are going to save who we can. This is not a cadaver lab. If you do not follow my explicit instructions, you will be reprimanded.”

His words had a sharpness that cut you deep. He had never used that tone with you before, especially in front of others. McKay finally stepped in between the two of you, hoping to get you a few steps away from each other. You decided to yield to his power, but there was an unmistakable sense of loss as the baby’s heartbeat dropped lower.

And lower.

Until there was nothing.

…

After the patient stabilized and was sent upstairs for surgery, Robby took the woman’s husband to the family room and explained the situation. You shucked your PPE off and went to get a drink of water from the lounge.

Guilt hung in your chest as you remembered the woman’s plea before she lost consciousness. She was going to wake up without her baby. The nursery had likely been finished, the first round of toys and diapers stacked in a corner, blankets with a monogrammed name hanging over the crib.

Angry tears dripped down your cheeks. You heard the door of the family room close, muffled by the quiet of the doctors lounge. You watched through the small window and saw Robby rub the back of his neck anxiously. His eyes scanned the entire department, and they finally settled at the sight of you through the window. Your breath hitched, and suddenly you were a baby deer in the path of a lion.

Robby walked into the room, shutting the door behind him. You stood, shaking your head. “We’re not doing this right now.” You said.

He crossed his arms, blocking your path to the door. “Oh, yes ma’am, we are.” His voice was patronizing, and his eyes had a darkness to them that you didn’t recognize. “That little show in there? That won’t fly.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, taking a step closer to him. “‘That little show’ was advocating for the patient’s wishes. Same as a DNR.” You argued.

Robby huffed, almost a laugh. “A DNR is an official document made when a patient has the capacity to do so. That patient, who clearly did not have the mental capacity to make decisions, told only you. And even so, the baby was crashing too fast to even try and deliver.” He explained.

You felt more tears storm down your face. “She is going wake up without her baby.” You hissed.

He pulled his lips into a thin line. “Yes. But at least she is going to wake up.” He replied.

He just didn’t get it. If you had stayed any longer, you were going to start screaming words that you’d regret. You pushed past him and walked out of the lounge, swiping your tears away with the palm of your hand.

…

For the rest of the day, Robby tried to get you alone, but you turned your back to him and jumped into a patient case every time. It was only when the night shift began to trickle in that he was successful in cornering you.

“Are you ready to go home?” He asked, calm and collected like nothing happened.

You nodded. “Yeah. I’ll follow you.” You replied, reminding him that you drove separately.

After collecting your things from the lounge, you both headed to the parking garage. Even though the walk was silent, Robby kept a protective hand on your lower back as you crossed the street and again when you climbed the concrete stairs. You followed his navy Ford F150 all the way back to your home, refusing to turn the music on. You felt like you didn’t deserve the distraction.

Once home, you began to tidy the house. Doing anything to keep your mind and hands busy. Robby recognized it immediately. Although it wasn’t a harmful anxiety escape, he didn’t want you losing your mind. Without a word, he went back out to the garage, disappearing for a few moments and returned. He sat on the couch, watching you wipe down the coffee table.

“Will you sit down with me for a second?” He asked.

You didn’t look up. “I need to clean up.” You responded in a tone that would make a robot jealous.

Robby sighed and reached his hand out to grasp your forearm. “Please, love.” He begged.

You stopped moving. Still refusing to meet his gaze, you placed the microfiber towel down and moved toward him. He guided you into his lap, pressing your back against his chest. His breathing was warm on the nape of your neck as he laid his head to rest on your shoulder.

“I was scared today.” He whispered. “That woman. She’s the same age as you. She was pregnant. All I could see was you. Even though you were standing there next to me. I couldn’t separate you from her.”

You turned your head, pushing his head off your shoulder with your nose, so that you could look him in the eyes. “Scared?” You questioned.

“I was scared I couldn’t protect you. Scared I couldn’t protect our baby.” He said, and you could hear his voice tremble as he fought back tears. “Fuck, I still am scared. Her husband, he…he cried so much. Even when I told her that she was okay, he couldn’t stop saying how he should’ve been there to keep her and the baby safe…”

Robby’s face was burning red, and a single tear fell from his eyes. You reached up to place your hands on either side of his face. “Michael…” You pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Honey, you did everything right. I was wrong to challenge you like that. It got personal for me.” You confessed.

He shook his head, clenching his eyes shut as more tears fell. “You were a good patient advocate. I was being selfish. Maybe we could have saved the baby. I don’t know.”

You pressed your forehead against his, trying to ground him. “Don’t do that to yourself. You made the right judgement call, even considering the bioethics. If you’d listened to me, they would have both died.” You replied.

Robby didn’t make another attempt. He just sat in silence as his tears dried, holding you close to him. One of his large hands rubbed your belly, the baby bump still unnoticeable. “I love you.” He whispered. The words were not a punctuation to the hours-long argument. They were a sacred prayer.

You leaned into his embrace, nestling against the warmth his body radiated. “I love you more.” You replied, a small smile on your lips, knowing he wouldn’t be able to resist topping your answer.

Like a moth to a flame, he matched your mild smile and answered with, “I love you most.” Then he shifted, reaching his hand into the pocket of his navy hoodie.

You shook your head, brushing your nose against his in an Inuit kiss. “Can’t prove it.” You teased.

Robby removed his hand from his pocket and raised it near your face. A sparkle caught your eye, and you leaned away to inspect it. In his hand was a ring. Simple gold band with a large, oval cut diamond. “Wanna bet?” He said, the slyest smirk on his lips.

You couldn’t find the words to speak. Butterflies filled your stomach, surely invading your baby’s personal space. His name left your lips in a whisper.

“We live together. We’re having a baby. Might as well make it legally official.” He said.

“Michael, I-” Your voice trembled. “I want to. I really do. But I don’t want you to feel compelled to do this because of the baby. If you aren’t ready for this, then you don’t have to rush it.”

Robby chuckled, shaking his head. “This has been in my toolbox in the garage for four months.”

A small, hopeful smile found its way to your lips. “Really?” You breathed.

“I was waiting for our anniversary. But today, after everything that happened…I knew I couldn’t wait any longer.” He explained.

The pure joy bubbling in your chest stunned you into silence. Robby reached to his neck, starting to rub his nape anxiously. “I know I probably should have made it a little nicer. I could’ve changed out of scrubs first, maybe shower-”

His rambling was silenced when you threw your arms around his neck, squeezing tightly. He laughed and returned the gesture, standing up straight, your feet dangling in the air as he held you in his embrace.

“It’s perfect.” You whispered. “It’s us.”

Robby pulled back slightly, raising an eyebrow. “So that’s a yes?”

“It’s a ‘fucking finally’ yes.” You answered.

#michael robinavitch #doctor robby #dr robby #the pitt hbo #the pitt #Michael Robinavitch x reader #doctor Robby x reader

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hsmagazine254 · 2 years ago

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Hard Ceiling vs. Soft Board Ceiling: Making the Right Choice for Your Building

Hard Ceiling vs. Soft Board Ceiling When it comes to constructing a building, every detail counts, and the choice of ceiling material is no exception. Two popular options are hard ceilings and soft board ceilings, each with its unique set of advantages and disadvantages. Understanding the differences between these options will help you make an informed decision that best suits your building’s…

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padfootagain · 2 months ago

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I'll Have You To Take Care Of Me

Hi!! Answering a request by an anon here! Thank you for your request!

Hope you like it! It’s short but pretty sweet! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem! Reader

Warning: Fluff, comfort, taking care of your partner when they’re sick

Summary: Andrew has caught a bad cold and you take care of him, despite the risks of catching his virus too.

Word Count: 1123

Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

Andrew should have known better.

He shouldn’t have let himself be fooled by the sunny morning, the warmth of the wind. It was Ireland. And he was Irish. He knew very well that the weather back home could change in a matter of minutes. Why on earth did he think the sun would shine all day?! It hadn’t, obviously. And now, there was Andrew, lying on his couch with one of the worst headaches he had ever had, unable to breathe through his nose and with a burning in his throat that started to seriously worry him about the state of his vocal cords.

He was sick, he would have argued that he was very sick. After spending two hours under the cold rain as he was surprised by the sudden change of weather, he had started showing the first symptoms of a cold mere hours after coming home. Three days later, he kept on getting worse.

You had accompanied him to the doctor this morning, as he was too weak to drive. He had insisted that he could go alone, unwilling to bother you, but you hadn’t trusted him with his own safety behind a wheel. Considering how he could barely keep his eyes open now, he couldn’t blame you.

He didn’t hear you coming in. Didn’t notice the padding of your steps on the wooden tiles. He usually did. He could have recognised the pattern of your walking anywhere, even in a crowd. A sign that he was really sick, if there was need for one more proof.

He loudly sneezed, reached blindly for a tissue on his nightstand. He jumped as he heard your worried sigh.

“Poor thing, you really are going through it, huh?”

He looked at you then, blowing his nose while you put down a mug of warm tea by his side.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, not recognising his voice.

His fingers rubbed at his Adam’s apple with the pain that scratched at his throat as he spoke.

“You need to rest your voice, honey,” you admonished.

He looked up at you, eyes made teary by sickness. He hummed, picked up the mug. Your old recipe. Water, thyme, lemon, honey, and a touch of ginger. It didn’t exactly taste good, but it was efficient. He had seen the results of this recipe of yours before, it wasn’t your first time taking care of him this way.

You reached up to touch his forehead with the back of your hand, frowned at the result.

“Christ, you’re still boiling, love.”

You tutted, disapproving of his illness, and he couldn’t help the fondness that grew over his heart and was shown on his features. You were so damn adorable sometimes…

“Do you want anything? Need anything?”

He shook his head. He would have wanted to cuddle, for you to run your hands through his hair, for you to kiss him until he felt better again… but he didn’t want to take the risk to make you sick.

“You’re sure? You’re not hungry?”

He shook his head again. When he whispered, he could barely recognise his own voice, it was too raspy, too weak.

“Thanks, love.”

You nodded, but didn’t seem convinced.

“What about we watch a movie together?”

But he shook his head.

“You’ll get sick,” he argued, but you rolled your eyes.

“I live here. I sleep in the same bed as you. Watching a movie with you won’t change a thing. Besides… in sickness and in health, right?”

You moved away before he could react. Did you see the way his eyes grew round? Did you hear how his breath got caught in his throat?

Jesus… you couldn’t play with his heart like that, quoting wedding vows out of the blue… what did it mean? Had you guessed that he was thinking about proposing to you? That he had been browsing through engagement rings lately? That he had weighted the pros and the cons and that the pros always won?

You came back to bed with your laptop and some snacks, found him still dumbfounded, staring at the wall. You frowned at the sight.

“You’re alright?”

Andrew shook himself, hummed as he nodded and averted his gaze in an attempt to hide how strongly he was blushing. He hoped that his sickness would help conceal how his cheeks were burning now.

He pushed the thought away, focused on you again, watched as you settled in bed next to him. In casual clothing, wearing some comfortable sweatpants and one of his black hoodies from his merch. It was one of his, and the thought made him smile. The fact that his name was embroidered on your heart didn’t go unnoticed. He wasn’t proud at the feeling of possessiveness that shook him, nor at how warm the room had become at the thought…

“Alright… is there anything you’re in the mood for?” you asked him.

He shook his head. You heaved a sigh.

“Letting me do all the work, huh?” you joked, poking at his chest and making him chuckle, which caused him to cough. He winced at how painful his throat became, like it was being burnt from the inside…

“Alright, nothing too funny,” you winced. “What about a rom-com?”

He nodded, although he would have nodded to anything you proposed. He didn’t care about the movie. He cared about how domestic you looked, how soft, how your heat warmed the covers, how the mattress dipped under your weight in a pattern he knew like the back of his hand. You were taking such good care of him…

He finished the drink you had prepared for him, settled more comfortably against his pillow. He raised a surprised eyebrow when you pouted at him.

“You don’t want to cuddle?”

He rolled his eyes.

“I’ll make you sick…”

“You’re in pain, you need cuddles!”

He chuckled, but you opened your arms for him, and he couldn’t find any solid argument to stay away from your embrace. You were even pouting…

He heaved a sigh.

“Don’t complain if you get sick…” he warned you.

“Shhh… you need to rest your voice,” you admonished, holding him against you, his head in the crook of your neck, and you felt him instantly relax when you ran your fingers through his hair. “And I won’t complain. I’ll be fine. I’ll have you to take care of me.”

Andrew smiled, held you closer.

“Of course, you will.”

“Shh! Your voice! Don’t mess up, we need it to earn a few extra million euros!”

He laughed at that, tried not to cough too hard as a result, but he kept quiet after that.

You hadn’t even selected the movie yet, that Andrew was already out like a light.

#andrew hozier byrne #hozier #the hoziest #hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier x y/n #hozier x fem!reader #hozier fanfiction #hozier oneshot #hozier fic #fanfiction #fanfic #writing

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leighsartworks216 · 5 months ago

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Not my fandom, but #15 for Zayne?

Intrusion

Zayne x gn!Reader

Prompt from this list

15 - hugging each other

I didn't intend to actually write these tonight bc I have a lot of downtime in the morning and I Need Sleep, buuuuut this one hit different idk

Warnings: hurt/comfort, caretaking, pre or early relationship, depression, food, hugging, crying

Word Count: 857

Main Masterlist

First Love and Deepspace Masterlist

Second Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Zayne knocks on the door lightly. It's late. Far later than is normal to be visiting. He'd hate to wake up one of the neighbors and give them a bad impression of you, especially right now.

You'd been practically radio silent all day. He's so accustomed to you sending him emojis and random videos, to have absolutely nothing come in was disconcerting. On top of that, when he messaged you asking if you were okay, it took several hours before you responded.

I'm fine. Just tired, sorry.

Did you stay up late last night?

Yeah, I guess.

Are you feeling well?

Don't worry about me, Zayne. I'm perfectly fine :)

Each insistence only stirred that uncertainty in his gut. You may not want to inconvenience him, but he needs your intrusion on his life. Otherwise, it would be the same, day to day. A cold, dark existence, with a sweet treat the only thing to draw him away from the mundanity.

He knocks again, slightly louder.

The door opens a crack. Your face is obscured in shadow, hidden from the dim light of the hallway, but from what he can tell, you look rough. You don't meet his eyes. You just stare at his tie.

"H-Hey," you draw out, trying to act casual. Maybe he'd believe the act if you weren't hiding. "What brings you here, doc?"

He inhales. Why must you keep insisting on putting barriers between you? "I'm not on duty, at the moment," he reminds you curtly, but his tone softens as he continues. "I wanted to make sure you ate something today, so I got takeout from a restaurant on my list."

You stare at the plastic bag of takeout he holds. He can see the gears turning. The hesitation as you realize the amount of food he's gotten. "Zayne, I-I can't possibly eat that much."

"I ordered some for myself. I haven't had a chance to eat dinner yet." He nods his head slightly toward the door. "May I come in?"

He watches with bated breath as you debate your options. He can see the way your eyes flicker from the bag to him, like you're weighing the pros and cons. You get food, but you have to let him in. From the faint growl of your stomach, it would seem that the choice is made for you.

You slowly open the door.

The apartment is dark, which isn't surprising. Still, Zayne navigates it with no issues. He toes off his shoes and replaces them with the guest house slippers with familiarity. You trail behind as he heads for the kitchen. He adjusts the lights to be set to a dim glow, allowing for enough light that he can see what he's doing without being too harsh on your eyes. Though, now that he can see, he can see the heavy bags under your red-raw eyes.

"Did I wake you?" He keeps his voice purposefully low.

You stand by the doorway, arms crossed, as you watch him bustle about. He retrieves two plates from the cabinet and divides the containers from the bag into what's his and what's yours. As he does so, he removes the lid from one of the containers and slides it over to you. The warm aroma of soup fills the room.

You shake your head. He watches from the corner of his eye as you sidle over, slippers scraping quietly against the tile floor. When you pick up the cup of soup, it feels like a brick has been removed from the wall.

He transfers food to the plates. A healthy serving, to be sure. He tries to keep the amounts relatively similar, but it's clear he's added slightly more to your plate than his own. Once they're ready, he sets your plate in front of your seat - designated as such from the times he's come over in the past - and his plate in front of his seat. Before he sits, he reaches up into the cabinets once again to retrieve some glasses.

Arms wrap around him from behind, nearly startling him into dropping the cups. Your head rests against his back. Your hands hold onto each other, as though resting them against him would be the thing to make him pull away.

"Thank you..." you mumble, only just loud enough for him to make out.

He moves like he's trying not to startle a wild animal as he lowers two glasses to the countertop. He sets a hand on your arm, to keep you from letting go, as he turns in your embrace. His arms wrap themselves over your shoulders, around your back, hands flat against you to draw you into his chest. Your hold tightens around him. Your hands fist his work shirt. Your head is tucked securely under his chin.

He says nothing of the way you shudder as your breath catches in your lungs. Nor does he say anything as he feels a wet spot form in his collar.

Instead, he rubs your back in soothing motions. "Please tell me the next time you're hurting," he pleas in a whisper. "Don't shut me out."

---

I'm gonna put my little end note here that I had on AO3 cuz I still feel like gloating:

"I feel the need to gloat about the title because it goes both ways!!! Zayne needs your intrusion on his life because otherwise he'd be no better than Dawnbreaker, but you also need his intrusion on your life to help you through whatever's bringing you down!!! Very proud of this"

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @deepzombieyouth @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry @hawtlineblingz

#fanfic #fanfiction #zayne #zayne x reader #love and deepspace zayne #lads zayne #lnds zayne #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #lads #lads x reader #lnds #lnds x reader #gn reader #x gn reader #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #hurt/comfort

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siriaeve · 26 days ago

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One Boyfriend, Free with Purchase

Nicky hadn't been in his new place long enough to have any post addressed to him as opposed to Current Resident, but the flyer promising "£100 off at Mega Mattress Mart" seemed like it had been targeted just for him. He'd been sleeping on an air mattress for a week now, and his lower back was deeply unhappy with him. And since the whole point of moving here was to take a better-paying job, he now had the money to buy an actual mattress, and Mega Mattress Mart seemed as good a place as any to get one.

Despite its name, the Mega Mattress Mart was an old redbrick shop on Main Street which didn't look that much bigger than the shops around it. When Nicky stepped inside, though, he found that it stretched very far back before opening out into a T-shape. There was another customer there, already talking to a tall woman with short dark hair, but the shop was otherwise quiet. Mattresses as far as the eye could see, laid out on bed frames of all shapes and sizes, and Nicky looked around him, suddenly realising that he knew absolutely nothing about mattresses.

Just as Nicky was starting to reconsider—maybe it would be fine if he just went online and bought one of those mattresses in a box—a man appeared from the back of the shop. He wore a pale blue t-shirt that said Hi! My Name is Joe! Ask me about the best sleep of your life! in letters shaped like puffy white clouds, and he was smiling, and he was perhaps the most attractive man that Nicky had ever seen in person. Nicky blinked.

"Good morning, I'm Joe! Can I help you to find something?" the man—Joe—said.

"I'm looking for a mattress," Nicky said, holding up the flyer, now slightly wrinkled, like it was an admission ticket. "And I suppose also a bed frame? But I don't know where to begin."

"Luckily for you, that's what I'm here for!" Joe said, pointing at his shirt. Nicky worked very hard at not staring at it, or how it stretched so pleasantly over his shoulders.

"Oh," Nicky said weakly. "Good." One of the reasons he'd moved here was the hope that he'd finally be able to date men without the constant fear that someone would see him and light up his home town with gossip about the scandalous sinning of the youngest DiGenova boy, but he hadn't expected to be confronted by a hot mattress salesman at 10:45 on a Monday morning. He thought he'd be able to ease into things.

He hadn't anticipated curls.

Joe walked him the length of the shop and pointed out some of their most popular models. "And of course another bestseller is the race car bed here, but I'm going to assume that you're not in the market for something like that."

"No, not so much," Nicky said, worrying at the flyer. "I was thinking more just something… simple? And comfortable."

"Ah, I get it. Minimalist looks, maximalist comfort?"

"I don't know what that means," Nicky confessed. "But I'm on my feet all day at work, and it turns out that sleeping on an air mattress for a while hurts my back."

"On your feet, huh?" Joe looked him up and down and Nicky's heart skipped a beat because he was sure—he was pretty sure—that Joe had been checking him out. "What do you do?"

"I'm a nurse," Nicky said. "I just started at the hospital here, in the paediatric intensive care unit."

Joe's eyebrows went up. "Oh, okay, yeah, that'd do it. Comfortable bed it is. Right this way."

They tried four beds in a row. Each time, Joe insisted that Nicky stretch out on the mattress for a good ten minutes. "You need to get a proper feel for it! Remember," he said, pointing at the words on his t-shirt, "I'm promising you the best sleep of your life!"

Nicky would have felt very silly just lying there, staring up at the ceiling tiles, but Joe distracted him by talking to him the whole time. How Nicky liked living here so far, and whether he'd tried that bakery up on Rose Street, and the pros and cons of brunch, and soccer, and the recent finale of the murder mystery show it turned out they'd both been watching. It was… it was nice, Nicky thought. He knew that Joe was trying to sell him a mattress, but he was also the first person that Nicky had really talked to since he moved here.

When he sat up from the fourth mattress, Nicky said, "To be honest, I'm not sure I can tell the difference between any of them."

"Well, to be honest in turn," Joe said, looking around the shop before leaning in and whispering, "there isn't really a huge difference between most of these. The manufacturers give them different model names and finishes, but they're basically the same mattress."

"Oh," Nicky said. Seen this close, Joe's eyes were bright and warm and overwhelming. "So if you were me…"

"If I were you…" Joe seemed on the verge of saying something, and then shook himself and said, "Um. The second one. Good quality for the price, low rate of returns."

"The second one it is, then," Nicky said.

Nicky followed him up to the cash register, and hovered there nervously while Joe rang up the purchase and took his address for the delivery. He handed over his debit card and then said remembered the flyer. "Oh, and I have this discount… Oh." He realised that he'd been so distracted by Joe while trying out the mattresses that he'd worried it into a crumpled ball, and his sweaty palms had made the ink bleed. "Well, never mind."

"I can still honour that," Joe said, taking the soggy flyer from him. Their fingers brushed as he did so, and Nicky shivered pleasantly. "On one condition."

"Oh?" Nicky said.

Joe took a business card from a holder next to the till, and scribbled something on the back. A string of numbers. A phone number, Nicky realised. "If you have issues with the mattress, or any questions, or any concerns about the mattress warranty policy, you can call any time."

"…. Oh," Nicky said. He had been very foolish to get his hopes up. "Well, that is very kind of you, yes."

The other sales assistant walked up to ring up her customer and cast a quick glance at the card in Nicky's hand. "That's his personal mobile number, you know."

"Oh," Nicky said.

Joe went pink. "Andy—"

"'Concerns about the mattress warranty policy', huh, Joe?" Andy sounded very amused.

Joe covered his face with his hands.

(It was Nicky's birthday three weeks later. Joe said that he knew it was a bit soon for them to be exchanging birthday presents, but that it'd be a shame for him to waste his staff discount, and Nicky really did need some nice new bedding for his nice new bed. It was just pragmatic. He even helped Nicky to make up the bed—a warm duvet, a beautiful blue cover, crisp sheets, fluffy pillows—and when they were done looked it over with satisfaction, hands on his hips.

"We did such a nice job," Joe said. "Hospital corners, even. Shame what's about to happen next."

"What's that?" Nicky asked.

"This," Joe said, and then he pushed a laughing Nicky onto the bed.

They got the sheets all rumpled, but Nicky didn't care because Joe had more than lived up to his t-shirt's promise—he really did give Nicky the best sleep of his life.)

#fic #the old guard #joe x nicky #for @sheafrotherdon

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asexual-abomination · 2 months ago

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Parental Yandere JayVik X Reader Part 2 - Forced Agere

Aaaaa sorry this is so late after I said I’d be writing it the day after the last one but my writing steam is very inconsistent as it’s finals season for me TwT, will be continuing to write whenever I have the energy now though!

CWs: Forced Agere (NON-SEXUAL), Yandere, Infantilism

~~~

Dada- Jayce- gently bounced you in his arms as he lifted you up bridal style. He hummed softly while wandering out to the living room, where he dropped you onto the soft couch.

The apartment, in the bright light of day, was full of gold lining and shiny tiling. Paid for by the Kirramans and Medardas, it was the pinnacle of Piltover excess and luxury. Still, your eyes widened as you took it in anew this morning, as you saw that the living room was practically overflowing with gifts, all wrapped in cute pastel paper.

The pile reached two-thirds of the way to the ceiling, entirely swallowing the corner it sat in. You heard Jayce chuckle from beside you, amused as he watched the amazement wash over your face.

“Excited? Those are all for you! Your Auntie Mel got very excited and went a bit overboard for you, didn’t she?” He said through a laugh while a hand rested on your shoulder, as if the two of you were sharing in a cute family inside joke.

Mel… knew? You had met her in passing, back when you were their assistant. Now that you thought about it, she was a bit infantilising to you, even before you noticed the behaviour in Viktor and Jayce.

Did she know the extent of what was going on? Did she know it was you, not some actual kid they adopted?

“We’re thinking of letting her come visit and see you soon, would you like that? Couldn’t let it happen too often, you know she loves to spoil you,” he continued chuckling, acting like the idea didn’t horrify you beyond belief.

If they were comfortable with her seeing you, that meant they were confident that she’d somehow be alright with the situation. You knew they were delusional, but they weren’t idiots. She already knew, and was happy to keep playing along.

Your hand sunk into Baa-nie’s soft wool, squeezing at his stuffed body for comfort as this day got worse and worse. Jayce’s hand tightened on your shoulder, and he slowly pressed down. Quickly, you noticed that he wanted something from you.

“U-uhm- yeah! I’d… love to see Auntie Mel!” You piped up, and immediately he lifted his hand, you looked over your shoulder to see a wide smile spreading across his face.

Even if she would just reinforce their delusions, it has been months since you had seen another person. And maybe, just maybe, she’d listen to reason.

“Do you wanna have breakfast before your birthday cake? I think you should, but Papa says we should let you do what you want on your special day…”

You debated your answer heavily. Jayce fancied himself your ‘good parent’, always being insistent on your bedtimes and making sure you finished your greens at dinner, so he’d probably appreciate you making the healthy choice to eat something normal before gorging yourself on cake. But on the other hand, any normal kid would obviously choose to go straight for the cake.

How closely did they want you to play along?

Staring a hole through the floor as you tried to weigh up the pros and cons of your choices, to reconcile how much dignity you were ready to give up with how much they planned to take from you, you didn’t notice Viktor wandering into the living room before it was too late.

“Is someone feeling scared of growing old?” He asked, full of mirth and lighthearted joy. Leaning up against the wall he raises an eyebrow with that knowing smirk he always wears when you’re unwittingly doing exactly what he wants.

Before you can think of a response, Jayce is crossing the room towards him, “Someone is feeling cranky after getting too much sleep.” He leaned forward and gave the other man a kiss on the cheek which Viktor turned into, kissing Jayce quickly in the lips. The pout that formed on your face at having your agency being taken away could be mistaken for one of a child finding their parent’s affection disgusting. Which you did, to be honest, but that was beside the point.

“Told you we should have woken them up normally, given them breakfast too.” Jayce continued, wrapping his arms around Viktor to hug him from the side, endlessly touchy as usual.

Viktor made pointed eye contact with you before rolling his eyes, happily playing into his role as the ‘fun parent’, “But the cake is already ready, Jayce! Let them have a little fun on their special day!”

Jayce peeked at you over Viktor’s shoulder, a silent warning that you couldn’t decipher. A warning to be good and choose breakfast? Or a warning to act like an adorable, fun kid and choose cake? Why the hell did it have to be so complicated and confusing?!

Every day was like this, a constant tightrope walk, toeing the line between being a good kid and being a kid.

Looking up at them, waiting expectantly spurs you to answer. You’re more scared of Jayce, you reason, Viktor likes to play and tease, but Jayce is much more insistent on punishments to keep you in line.

Besides, maybe gorging yourself on chocolate cake immediately after waking up would give you a stomachache as Jayce always warned—

And before you have time to realise that thought might be a little too big for you, you blurt out, “Breakfast! I’ll- um- I wanna have breakfast, p-please.”

You barely manage to stutter out your request as a cold shiver races down your spine when both their faces drop. Shit shit shit— You made the wrong choice.

“Sweetheart…” Jayce lifts his head to rest on Viktor’s shoulder, “Are you sure? The cake’s ready… It’s your special day…” He spoke slowly, hesitantly, reminding you gently of exactly where you went wrong.

Viktor leaned back against his lover, a look of piercing frustration in his eyes directed at you. It had been weeks since you’d done anything bad enough to draw out that stern, frightening frown. “Are you sure you’re thinking straight, honey?” He said without an edge of humour, “I’m sure our little one would prefer a cake.”

Jayce winds his arms tighter around Viktor before he can make a move towards you. He speaks loud enough for you to hear in Viktor’s ear, “They’re scared of getting bigger, V! You know they love their routine, they’re scared that getting big means things are gonna change, we shouldn’t get mad.” He spit that last part out through gritted teeth, clearly holding back his own anger. “Isn’t that right, sweetie.”

It’s a statement, not a question. A demand for you to make this right.

“Please don’t be mad, Papa.”

The nickname slips off your tongue easier than you expected, but it seems to reach Viktor.

He sighs sharply, his eyes scolding you all on their own, but eventually seems to cool off. Jayce was the one who cared about your health, but Viktor was the one who cared about you being a kid, and he liked taking matters into his own hands when you fell short.

Thankfully, that gave you an easy defence.

You sniffled, wrapping your arms around your stuffy and hunched your shoulders, shrinking into them and muttering, “I’m sorry, papa… thought I should be careful but… we can have cake if you want…”

Viktor finally softened at your tone. Sometimes it felt like pulling teeth to get you to act as small as you are, so it was always a victory when you did it without direct encouragement.

“Cake, then! Jayce, will you help me carry it?”

As Viktor turned back to the kitchen, Jayce glanced at you with a stern frown, before winking and breaking out into a bright grin. You return a watery smile and settle into the couch as you’re left alone for a few precious moments.

The game wasn’t impossible to play. You just had to keep your balance, and remember that with patience, awareness, and a little bit of luck, you could escape.

~~~

Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed!

#platonic yandere #platonic x reader #yandere #platonic yandere arcane #yandere arcane #yandere jayce talis #yandere jayce #yandere viktor #platonic yandere viktor #platonic yandere jayce #autsitic reader #platonic yandere mel medarda #implied #yandere mel medarda #yandere mel

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sgalleria80 · 11 months ago

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Granite vs Tiles Pros Cons Costs and Longevity Explained

When it comes to choosing flooring for your home or commercial space, granite and tiles are two of the most popular options available. Each has its own unique characteristics and benefits, making the decision between them an important one.

#Granite vs Tiles Pros Cons Costs and Longevity Explained

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dropsnectar · 9 months ago

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Pollen and Potions: Bee-men x afabreader

PART EIGHT

Nsfw

Rena and Lyith had a system going. One of them would be glued to your side for most of the day, the other went off and did their job. Rena claimed that someone always needed to be at your side to protect you, but it honestly felt like more of an excuse for them to fool around.

They had been affectionate creatures before, but now they were tenacious, crowding you and pinning you down as they worked your body. It would start with them rubbing their cheeks upon you, crooning sweet nothings. This would then turn into caressing, messaging of muscles.

Lyith had a habit of humping you as he rubbed your body, nipping at your skin as he played with your clit. His big black, pitiful eyes never left you as you'd crumble under the weight of your pleasure. He'd come straight after you, with very little touching. The way he'd stutter and groan always made your mouth water. Something about that voice of his did things to you.

Rena was more aggressive. She'd use her emotions to flood your mind. Your body would heat and prick with sensitivity under her lust. She'd play with your nipples, while pinning your hips to the cot, thrusting mercilessly. Occasionally, she’d lick long lines along your skin and you couldn't help but wriggle under her, the sensation sending bubbles of need to your core.

When you asked her later if she had some sort of aphrodisiac in her fluids, she'd given you a mischievous look before tutting, “What a compliment! If you want more of me just ask~”.

While you were very much enjoying all the attention(and orgasms), there hadn't been much time to consider the hive. Whenever the tragic thought of their fate filled your mind, there was one of your lovers, sucking on your skin, and slipping their fingers under your underwear.

This morning was no different. You'd settled yourself to consider the pros and cons. What had you wanted your life to look like before all this Bee-man nonsense? You had inherited a decent sum of money from your grandmother and had no real passion for a career. You had simply wanted to read as much as possible. Sure, you had wanted to fall in love and have kids eventually… but now? What would it be like, being a parent?

Renas hands, which had been tracing little circles on your skin, where now starting to slither under your shirt hem, another messaging your thigh, as you'd been cuddling in the cot. Her happy nuzzling had stopped as she brushed her lips to yours, searching. You sighed into her, and returned the kiss, allowing your mind to go blank for a little bit.

After a moment you pulled away.

“Rena… maybe we should go for a walk?”

Renas face was sulky for a second, before she sighed and rolled her way off of the cot. She flew up with a sudden ease and helped drag you up from your place in bed.

“If you are bored, I could also kiss you in the air.” She gave you a smirk. “It could be quite exhilarating for you…”

You rolled your eyes at her and leaned down to kiss one of her hands.

“We've been fooling around for the last two days. My legs need to move.” And with this, you walked past her and out into the hallway. Your muscles were indeed jelly, but you tried not to concentrate on that.

The tunnel was bright and airy, just like the infirmary had been. The tile felt cool under your toes as you hadn't bothered to put your shoes back on. The place was so clean, why bother. You tapped one of the glowing orbs and gave it a push. With your newfound mana you could sense that the thing had a quite a lot of fuel to burn. You looked up at the ceiling too, curious.

“Rena, I thought you guys had very limited magic stores. So how come you can make all this light?”

Rena answered with an edge in her voice, still a bit peeved. “We actually don't use much magic for that. The ceiling is made from a mixture of hair and bone dust, while the little lights are transformed waste.”

“...bone dust? What bones?” You asked, hoping for a different answer.

“Our ancestors. We serve to nourish our fellow hive mates, even in death.”

Your stomach turned. She frowned at you.

“Their souls have passed on. Why is it so distasteful? What is more beautiful than to be able to light the homes of the ones you love, even after death?”

“I just… you crush up your dead and then smoosh them on the ceiling??”

“No! It is ritual! You humans have something similar, a funeral? We all come together with our magic to slowly dissolve their earthy vessel, then bind their remains in equal distribution among the hive! It is a beautiful ceremony full of love! There is no ‘smooshing’!”

You just nodded, not fully being able to react to this information without offending Rena.

The two of you had made it out to the common area and through the tunnels.. As it turned out, the beeman you had been looking for was outside, out by the entrance of the hive. His eyes were on a book you had seen Lyith reading during down time.

“Haven!”

He looked up from his book curiously, then jumped up, a dissolve of dancing wiggles at his excitement to see you. You ran towards him and Rena followed reluctantly behind you.

“Little Witch! You look to be doing much better!” He gave you a quick hug.

“Thank you. I was hoping you'd be able to take a walk with us? Actually, I wanted to talk to you about a few things.” you turned to Rena. “Alone?”

Rena quirked her eye at you then looked at Haven. His gaze was fixed in an expression of total contentment, but their was a buzzing of excitement coming from him.

“I don't understand why I have to leave.”

You sighed. “The guards are right there. And you could even watch us from across the field. I was just hoping for a little privacy with my friend. I'm allowed to have that, right?” The irritation was palpable.

Rena gave Haven a long look. She then made her way across the field, flying up to a high branch on a tree. Haven laughed lightly, and grabbed your arm, taking you to a little spot at the edge of the clearing.

As you sat down, his hands started to glow, and a small bubble formed around the two of you. Just like a bubble, the lights swirled like water, shifting.

“Its just a small spell. You said you wanted privacy, so this should help keep anyone from eavesdropping.” He took his spot next to yours, purposefully giving you space. He crossed his legs and smiled at you in a friendly manner.

“I'm surprised you were even able to get away. Those two are some pretty high level drones, so their instincts must be driving them crazy right now.”

“High Level? Do you mean like mana level?” Your cheeks burned a bit, trying to ignore the knowing in his statement.

“In a way, yes. They both have high level mana, but they also have high classes.”

You looked at him in confusion and he tilted his head.

“I'm not surprised they haven't talked to you about it. So you know there are several types of Bee-men right? Your job is based on your potential. Part of that is your mana level, both of which Lyith and Rena also score high on, but its about how you are able to use that power. Rena is very good at manipulation magic. If they were around, she would be really good at harvesting from flower monsters. And Lyith is a Kvasir, like me! The only other one might I add.”

Your eyes raised in surprise. Lyith had never told you he was a Kvasir. His voice rang in your head. You had to admit you blushed a bit.

“But. Um. You said they were drones too right?”

“Do you know what a drone is, little Queen?” Havens tone changed to its huskier lilt. He leaned closer, not breaking eye contact.

“A drone is a someone whose job is to mate with the Queen, right?”

He chuckled.

“A drone among Bee-men is a class. Any Beeman can mate with a queen. But a drone refers to any who can give her eggs. That can vary a bit.” Haven scooted himself closer to you, his head leaning closer to your ear conspiritorially.

“Our hive only has around 10 drones, all on the younger end. The older ones died right after the last Queen. But being a drone isn't easy, Little Queen. Take your Lyith for instance. He's a very powerful drone. It must be so hard for him not to fill you every chance he gets.”

Your mind went to Lyith. How he had never entered you, despite all the heavy petting and moaning he had done. Your face burned even brighter now.

“I'm a higher class drone too, ya know? Us drones are usually the Queens aides. We feed you, make sure you want for nothing. Whatever you want of us.”

He took your hand in his and pressed a chaste kiss to the tip of your middle finger.

“I would love to serve you as my Queen. We've always had so much fun, right? We would all love you so much too. Our hive.”

You squirmed under the rapt attention.

“I just… I don't know if I'd be a good fit. The thought of being a parent is so overwhelming… and I love being in human society. Going to cafes, and stores. Talking to people. I couldn't give up my humanity.”

There. You'd said it. You were afraid of losing everything you loved about being human.

Haven stared at you a moment, and nodded. “You don't have to give that up. You could go anywhere you want. You'd just need a guards. Or maybe a sweet and handsome drone with high mana.” He beamed at you. “I am pretty powerful myself you know. And as for being a parent, we would all help! Children are blessings, especially after all our hive has been through. Please."

Haven was pulling your hand to his face now, rubbing his cheek on your skin. It felt peculiar. You could tell he was trying hard to keep his emotions in check.

Despair, depression, hope and need all swirled together but he was locking it up as much as he could behind a wall. A wall you could get through with little effort it seemed. He heaved out a shaky breath.

“That's rude, ya know? Pushing yourself into my emotions like that. Anyone else I would be so mad with. But. You are such a kind and hardworking person. Despite being a foreigner, I can't help but want to know more of you.” He leaned his face towards yours.

“Can I kiss you? Please.” His sweet voice was a desperate plea. You glanced up at Rena, who was staring in the opposite direction, as if to give you privacy.

You considered it a moment more before you leaned forward and pressed your lips to Havens. The tip of your tongue seemed to tingle, as well as your lips. It felt like their was a thread between you, pulling you closer to him.

He slowly returned your kiss, carefully holding onto you. Your kiss grew deeper and you felt a hint of his emotion, of shackled hope pushing over the top of his walls. Of satisfaction. And peace. He found peace while kissing you, and a part of you loved him for it.

Haven. Your bold, silly friend.

You pulled away slowly and looked into his large black eyes. He gave you the biggest grin.

“Please don’t break my heart. I didn't mean to give it to you. But you have it.” You just stared at him for a while, not being able to answer.

Would it really be so bad to be a Queen?

“Break the spell please.”

Haven popped the bubble with the flick of his wrist. You looked up to watch Rena descend to you.

“Is your business finished, Little one?” Her gaze didn't stray from Haven, her nose wrinkled.

“Rena, do you know when Lyith comes back from his duties?” Rena blinked.

“It should be in another hour, why?”

“I want to ask you guys something.”

She leaned back and crossed her arms, worry furrowed her brows. “If there is something you want of us, just ask. We will do our best to help you.”

I glanced at Haven who stared at us with interest. “I want to say… fuck it. Fuck it all. Ill become Queen. Will you guys support me?”

Renas eyes widened, but she didn't seem surprised. “It won't be hard, I promise. We will all be there to support you. And Lyith would say the same.”

“But I do have one question." You shuffled a bit, nervious.

" If I want to spend time in town or travel, will your guyses mana be okay? I don't want ro be shackled to a room forever.”

Haven smiled at you, jumping up and down as if in excitement. Every piece of him was quivering. “Whatever you want! It won't hurt us as long as you come back in three days! Oh! This! This is so good I have to tell everyone!” He swooped to the guards at the entrance, dancing as he talked with them. The words couldn't be heard but his excited buzzing could. They quivered and spun around, knocking into the walls of the structure.

“You know he worked you over right? He may care for you, but from the start, all everyone wanted was your magic.” Renas voice was cold. But the worry for you overwhelmed everything else in her bond.

“I know. But I still care for all of you anyway. And I know you and Lyith love me for me.”

Rena didn't respond to this, just sighed and picked you up in her arms, leaning against a tree. You reached up and stroked her nose, letting your love for her fill your bond. As cold as she was she gave you a small smile.

The two of you rested in silence for a long time.

“Do you think ill be good at it?” You asked her, worry peaking through the calm of your shared affection. She shrugged.

“I'm sure you will make the role your own. And may the Kvas help whoever stands in your way.”

You cracked a smile, and kissed her.

#monster fucker #monster lover #monster x reader #terat0philliac #teratophillia #monster #bee hybrid #bee hybrids #bee hybrids x reader #bee hybrid × reader #terato #monster smut

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cosmerelists · 7 months ago

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Pros and Cons of Inviting Cosmere Shards to your Next Boardgame Night

So you want to invite a fragment of Adonalsium to your next boardgame night? You do you, but here are some pros & cons you might want to consider first.

1. Autonomy [Taldain; White Sand]

Pros: If you're good, Autonomy will respect you. You actually managed to complete the coast to coast railroad in Ticket to Ride? Autonomy is giving that a fist bump.

Cons: If you are bad at your chosen game, or even if you just have a bad night, Autonomy may simply kill you.

2. Preservation [Scadrial; Mistborn]

Cons: Preservation HATES it when the game progresses. You've been playing Risk for three hours now, and Preservation is still trying to get it to look like it did at setup. He's crying.

Pros: Preservation doesn't mind losing. He kinda likes it if his score stays at 0.

3. Ruin [Scadrial; Mistborn]

Pros: Ruin is not a bad loser either.

Cons: In fact, Ruin hopes that EVERYONE will lose. He's mainly in it to see everything burn. Do NOT play Pandemic with Ruin.

4. Harmony [Scadrial; Mistborn]

Cons: You are SO SURE that Harmony is trying to manipulate how you play.

Pros: H-He just put down a Scrabble word that can be pluralized one square away from the triple word score tile--is he trying to manipulate you into winning?! Does he want the game to be easy for you??

5. Honor [Roshar; Stormlight]

Pros: He will DEFINITELY not cheat.

Cons: He's just...a bit of a windbag, you know? He tells like the same six stories over and over again and always looks at you like he thinks he's changing your life. It's like--it's been your turn for five minutes now!

6. Dominion [Sel; Elantris]

Cons: Ugh, Dominion is the WORST winner. Laughing, mocking you, rubbing your face in it... It's like, cool it. We are playing Settlers of Catan.

Pros: ...It's actually very satisfying to beat her, especially at the card-building guide Dominion. Heh heh. Heheheheh.

7. Devotion [Sel; Elantris]

Pros: Devotion has a whole library of fun co-op games where everyone wins! It's delightful!

Cons: Just once you wish you could play a competitive game. With winners and losers. But you just can't take Devotion's round, moist eyes when you suggest it.

8. Endowment [Nalthis; Warbreaker]

Cons: It's not too bad of a con, really, but she is REALLY particular about what piece color she gets.

Pros: She always brings snacks! And she never asks for anyone else to take their turn or anything; she just likes to bring stuff!

9. Cultivation [Roshar; Stormlight]

Pros: You swear that playing with Cultivation has made you a better player. Yes, she kicks your butt at Checkers repeatedly, but she also seems to want you to get better at the game. It's kind of sweet.

Cons: You just wish she could be more...normal about win conditions. "Winner gets to pick the takeout place!" Normal! "And winner also has to pour a glass of water over their head!" Now it's weird.

10. Virtuosity [Komashi; Yumi and the Nightmare Painter]

Cons: Sometimes you like a game, and you'd like to try it again. But Virtuosity always pooh-poohs that idea. She only likes to try new games.

Pros: She's always really taken with the art on the game box. It's kinda sweet.

11. Odium, Rayse vessel [Roshar; Stormlight]

Pros: Odium understands and adheres to the spirit of the game, and he doesn't take it personally. When you block his Draw 2 with a Draw 2 of your own, he just shakes his head and comments that it's his own fault for agreeing to house rules.

Cons: Whenever someone loses, Odium insists that they be banned from game night forever. Sometimes you catch a cold look in his eye, like he intends to be the only boardgame player left at the end of this...but that would be crazy, right??

12. Odium, [spoilers-for-Rhythm-of-War] vessel [Roshar, Stormlight]

Cons: You thought you were playing by house rules Monopoly, you know, like everyone does, when all of the sudden Odium stops your brother from loaning you some money by calmly pointing out that it isn't allowed in the official rules. Suddenly you see that he has the Official Rule Book in hand. Many pages are earmarked. A chill comes over you.

Pros: Well, you agreed that if the Monopoly game lasted longer than two hours, then whoever was up at that point would simply win. S-So, at least there's an end in sight? Why are you so scared though??

13. Ambition [Threnody; Shadows for Silence]

Pros: Whenever someone gets eliminated from your weekly poker game because they run out of chips, Ambition insists that they stay at the table and continue having a role in the game. How sweet!

Cons: ...is what you would say, if the role weren't sitting there in silence, watching for any rule-breaking (like card counting or collusion). Ambition always says that the punishment for rule-breaking is...death. You know she's kidding.

You think she's kidding.

You might stop inviting her.

#cosmere #cosmerelists #Sel #Scadrial #Roshar #Nalthis #Taldain #Threnody

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