Hi everyone! I love Luuk Herssen soo much and I don't understand why there's so little written about him, so I had to do it myself
I want to apologize in advance for any mistakes, because English is not my native language and I'm using a translator. It may distort the context and confuse words
Tags
Overstimulation, age difference, breeding, cunnilingus, squirt, cowgirl, fingering, Mdom to Msub, aftercare, cuteness, shyness, medical examination
It was slowly getting late in Lahai-Roi. By this time, the academy was almost empty, with only a few departing professors, students in the library and idle robots.
You walked through the empty and spacious hallway and the last rays of the setting sun warmed you pleasantly. Looking at you from the side, it was easy to see that you were sterss and stiff. The reason for this behavior was him - Dr. Luuk Herssen.
Your relationship had long since crossed the line of propriety. He was twice your age and if anyone found out what he was doing to you, he'd be fired at the very least. But it was precisely this that fueled your interest in each other.
Your lower stomach began to tingle as the door to his office appeared in front of you. You grabbed the handle and hesitated to open it. You nervously adjusted your hair, smoothed out your skirt, and straightened your shirt. Your mind was filled with possible responses from Luuk, but you couldn't find the courage to confront him. Even in your thoughts, you couldn't stand up to him.
Your determination was completely shattered when the door suddenly opened. Luuk was clearly waiting for you. He smiled sweetly, took your hand, and pulled you inside. The click of the lock snapped you out of your stupor. You were alone now, and no one could stop you.
"Hi, my golden girl" he kissed your palm and pulled you close for a tight hug. (he calls you "golden" because you specifically add golden items to your looks, such as a bow, rings, and hairpins).
"Hiii, I've missed you," your anxiety gradually subsiding and a sense of calmness filling you. Luuk always had a special aura that was impossible to ignore. After all, he was a doctor and should be able to make people feel at ease.
"Me too, you have no idea how much," he whispered these words into your lips, giving you the first kiss of the day. He kissed you gently and slowly, making your insides flutter. His tongue intertwined with yours, and his strong hands moved down to your waist. In these moments, you became impatient and pliable, so you grabbed Luuk by the collar of his coat, trying to pull him closer. However, he broke the kiss.
"Take your time, darling. I have other plans for you today," he winked at you. "I'd like to perform a checkup," he said seriously, stroking your shoulder.
"But I feel fine! I'll feel even better if you continue," your naughty hands stroked his muscular chest.
"Yes, you rarely complain, but numbers don't lie. It's important for me to keep track of my good girl's condition," he took your hands in his and squeezed them. You couldn't resist him, and you didn't want to, so you agreed. "It's going to be something special, you'll love it."
You were lying on a medical bed, your legs spread wide and your inner thighs were covered in bites and hickeys. You were completely naked, except for a shirt that covered your swollen and needy breasts. Luuk was sitting across from you, observing this beautiful sight that he had created. His eyes were glowing red, and a self-satisfied smirk crossed his face.
"Let's start with your pulse," he finally said, and his voice, low and seductive, made your skin tingle. He picked up a cold stethoscope from the table and placed it on your chest, deliberately brushing his hand against your nipple. You let out a small gasp, and your heart rate increased. "You have a fast heartbeat, my darling," he said, listening to the beat of your loving and willing heart for a few more seconds before taking your breasts in his hands. He massaged them in a way that was reminiscent of a gynecologist's examination. "It's all good here, and the reaction..." He pinched your nipple slightly, causing you to arch towards him and moan, "is beautiful," as he gently placed his lips on your right nipple. He looked down at you, circling his tongue around it and sucking it in deeper. You gripped his shoulders, tilting your head back and exposing your breasts even more. He pulled away from your nipple with a wet sound, immediately moving on to the other one.
"Luuk..." you breathed out, starting to rub your hips against each other. Your arousal had reached its peak.
"What is it, sweetheart? Is something bothering you?" he whispered the words against your skin, placing a final kiss in the valley between your breasts.
"Please, touch me there," you impatiently took his hand and tried to lower it lower, right between your legs. Luuk didn't mock you and obediently complied with your request. "You're right, your pussy needs to be checked too." In the next instant, he pulled the glove off his right hand with his teeth, throwing it away. You squirmed under him. His fingers, index and middle, parted the folds and plunged into you. You were so wet and hot that it entered without the slightest resistance, going all the way to the hilt. Your eyes rolled back at the feeling of being filled and you moaned his name languidly.
"Mhm...", Luuk exhaled in satisfaction, pressing perfectly on that spot inside you. "I noticed that you're tense," Luuk continued, his fingers entering you rhythmically, making wet and sloppy sounds. "I'll help you release it," he chuckled softly, sending shivers down your spine. His thumb found your clitoris and began tracing lazy, teasing circles around it.
"Luuk..." you moaned louder, clutching the sheet with your free hand. "Luuk, please don't stop."
"I wasn't planning to, golden girl," his voice lowered. "This checkup is very important for you."
Your pussy started sucking his fingers, you wanted so much more, you were so insatiable. His voice responded to your body language and whispered right in your ear: "Relax, I'll do it myself," after these words, he added a third finger, and the pressure on clit increased. He began to enter more intensely, deeper, precisely. He wanted to drive you crazy.
"Luuk!! I'm... right now...", your brain has been shut down for a long time and it was difficult for you to formulate thoughts. All the focus was on his movements, his gaze. You loved coming from his fingers so much.
"Come on, show your doctor how well your body works"
The orgasm hit you like a strong wave, and everything was swimming in front of your eyes. You screamed his name, not holding back, forgetting where you were, arching and squeezing around his fingers. Luuk didn't stop, prolonging your pleasure until the last cramps subsided.
He carefully pulled out his fingers, brought them to his lips and licked them with obvious pleasure. "The taste is normal, within the normal range, but I think I should try it directly." Luuk sat down in the chair opposite, his hands resting on your calves, gently feeling the muscles and moving up to your thighs. His lips kissed the places where he had left red hickeys.
You raised yourself on your elbows, trying to look serious. "Are you sure?" Your voice was quieter than you wanted it to be, almost a whisper. You bit your lip, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment. He'd done this many times before, but it still felt like the first time. Instead of answering, he lifted your legs onto his shoulders and lowered his face to your pink and swollen pussy. "Of course, sweetheart," and without waiting for you to respond, he darted his tongue from your entrance to your clit.
You couldn't hold yourself up on your elbows anymore, so you fell back on the bed. It was too sensitive after the first orgasm, and Luuk knew it. He wrapped his lips tightly around your clit and began to suck on it vigorously. Every movement of his lips sent shivers through your body. When you tried to wrap your thighs around his head, he would ease up, releasing the sensitive nub from his mouth to continue licking it lightly. Occasionally, he would move down to collect the juices with his tongue and return to your clit.
"You're so sweet, I could do this forever," he mumbled into your pussy, making you drip even more. Then he thrust his tongue deep inside, flipping your insides. He licked you so thoroughly, so deeply. The second orgasm began to build faster.
Luuk could feel you getting close. Your cunt was clenching around his tongue. So he sped up, his tongue working nonstop, making you lose what little sanity you had. You grabbed his hair with your hands, probably hurting him, but you couldn't control the force.
"Ahh, Luuk.. I'm going again..."
You tried to close your thighs because you couldn't take the intensity. But Luuk wouldn't let you. His hands, strong and confident, gripped your thighs, keeping them spread, preventing you from closing them. He pressed you against the bed, leaving you completely helpless beneath him.
"No, golden," he breathed into you, his tongue never stopping. "Don't clench. Come for me."
This was the last straw. You arched your body towards him, your head thrown back, and your eyes darkened. You moaned loudly, unable to control yourself. In the next moment, you felt a hot liquid flowing out of you. The squirt hit his face, splashing onto his tongue and drenching the sheets beneath you. Instead of pulling away, Luuk moaned into you, greedily absorbing your juices. He continued to lavish attention on your throbbing clit, prolonging this beautiful moment.
When you finally went limp, Luuk raised his head. His face was shiny, and he was wet from you. He licked his lips, looking down at you with eyes that burned with crimson triumph, and smiled that same smug smile.
"My good girl," he whispered hoarsely, leaning down and kissing your slack, open mouth, letting you taste yourself. "You're a miracle."
"Luuk, this is too much for me," you were still shaking, but you could speak calmly. "I didn't expect this from you."
"I wanted to surprise you," he said, stroking your cheek. "But we're not done yet, my golden girl" Luuk quickly unbuttoned his trousers. You were captivated by the sloppiness of his movements, as his fingers fumbled with the zipper. You realized that he had been aroused all along, but he had refrained from showing it. Your desires were more important to him than his own.
Finally, the zipper gave way. Luuk pulled down his pants and underwear, freeing his poor cock. It was thick and engorged, with a wet head that slowly dripped a clear drop of pre-cum, hanging like a thin thread. You slowly looked from his cock to his face, and he looked so lost. His eyes, still burning with red desire, lacked the smug confidence he had used to push you to the brink moments earlier. There was no power. Only a hunger for you. Only a plea for touch. Only the desperate desire of a pitiful puppy.
"Luuuuuk," you said affectionately, wrapping your hand around his cock. He let out an unrestrained sigh, and his hips instinctively moved forward. You didn't want to torment him; you just wanted to give him the same pleasure he had given you today. Your movements quickened, and your hand firmly gripped his cock, while your other hand massaged his heavy balls. His moans grew louder, and you could see his cheeks reddening. "Luuk, lie down," you commanded without letting go of his cock, and he obeyed. You got up from the bed to make room for him, and only then did you notice the wet spot left by your two orgasms. However, you chose not to dwell on it, as your lovely Luuk had already laid down with his arms spread out. He was open to you and trusting in his pleasure.
You straddled him, loving the fact that you were riding this grown man. You were the only thing he could think about right now. You rubbed your pussy against his cock, mixing your wetness with his. Luuk arched beneath you, a long, shuddering moan escaping his lips. His hands gripped your hips, not to guide you, but because he didn't know how to handle the intensity of the sensation.
"Please, golden girl," he whispered in a hoarse, strained voice. "Please, don't torture me." You nodded, placing your hands on his chest. You lifted yourself, guiding the head of his cock to your entrance, and slowly began to lower yourself. Luuk bit his lip, throwing his head back, and a sheen of sweat appeared on his forehead. You took him into you carefully, feeling him throb inside you and tremble beneath you. Once you were accustomed to the sensation, you began to move. First, smoothly, completely releasing him and sliding back in one motion. He whispered compliments, admired your vulgarity, and moved his hands erratically, trying to touch every part of your body.
The feeling of him filling you sent a warm and pleasant shock through your belly, and you couldn't help but start riding him faster, sinking so deep that your hips slammed against his waist. You bounced on top of him, feeling his fingers dig into your ass. He tried to control you, moving and thrusting his cock into you. You merged into a single dance of your heated bodies.
The rhythm became completely frantic. You were no longer in control, just riding him, gasping for air, feeling the future orgasm twist inside. Luuk under you lost the last remnants of self-control, he moaned loudly, desperately, breaking into sobs, shouting your name mixed with incoherent "yes-yes-yes" and "please".
"Can I... cum... inside you?" Luuk had trouble forming long sentences, and he kept repeating each word as he tried to complete the sentence. You didn't worry about the possibility of pregnancy, as he was a doctor and would take care of it. You desperately shouted "Yes!" because you wanted to be filled. You wanted to feel his warm cum deep within your womb.
"Let's come together, please!" you said in a breathless voice, kissing and biting his chest, neck, and ear in between. Instead of answering, he pulled your body closer, holding you tightly by the waist and kissing your breasts, which hung perfectly over his face. This was the final straw. You screamed, feeling a small explosion inside you. Your cunt began to contract rhythmically around his cock, and Luuk, sensing this, finally gave in.
He came deep inside you with your name on his lips, which turned into a soft whimper. You felt the hot jets of cum filling you, thrust after thrust, as he pulsated in time with your own contractions. You were shaking, small and uncontrollable. You collapsed onto his chest, unable to keep your back straight.
You lay in this position for a while. He didn't pull out of you, wanting to stay inside your tight pussy for a while longer. Sometimes he would kiss your temple and stroke your back. You almost fell asleep from the tenderness and exhaustion, but his voice woke you up.
"We should get going, it's getting late," he said into your hair, inhaling the remnants of your perfume and the scent of your wild sex.
"Well, I don't want to. It's nice here," you said, burying your face in his neck, wanting to stay in this cozy moment forever.
"It's going to be even better at home, I promise," Luuk managed to say. His cock slowly withdrew from your body, and the remaining cum flowed out of your pussy. You both laughed at the sight. The sheets and mattress beneath you needed to be washed, but you didn't want to think about it right now. Luuk finally stood up and began pacing around the room. He grabbed tissues from one shelf, towels from another, and soaked them under the sink. First, he quickly wiped his cock, which was slowly relaxing and drooping, and then he approached you.
"Let me take care of you," he said, giving you that warm smile he always had for everyone, but it meant more to you. He wiped you gently, not at all like the way he had gripped your thighs a few minutes ago, leaving marks. His movements were tender and respectful, and the contrast made your heart ache. "By the way, I can tell you that you're completely healthy after your checkup," he chuckled, kissing your forehead. You broke into a gentle smile and hug him. You were still naked, but it was more of a high level of intimacy and respect for each other than it was about passion.
When you were fully prepared and dressed, he took your hand and led you out of the office, locking the door behind you. The academy was completely empty, so you didn't feel the need to hide. You walked alongside him, flirtatiously, while he carried your bag, and you discussed the events of the past week.
Once you arrived home, he prepared a hearty dinner to restore your energy. You spent the evening watching funny shows on TV, interspersed with kisses. You eventually fell asleep together. You lay curled up by his side, his arm wrapped tightly around you, providing comfort and security. Despite the challenges, you were his golden girl, and nothing would stop him from making you happy.
Kugo x implied POC!reader but for everybody. These are my first headcannons so please be kind 👉🏾👈🏾
This man is normally pretty strict with eating a healthy diet because he thinks it’s important to eat health as a pro hero especially since pro hero’s train excessively and need the protein and nutrients.
I’m talking fruit smoothie with chia seeds for the morning, spicy version of a salad, and a seafood based dinner
Not really, just give him the puppy eyes and he’s caving in
But from time to time he gets the craving for some greasy, delicious fast food like McDonalds🤩
And when he gets his cravings, nothing or no one can stop him from getting it. Not even himself. (not them being Pre-rut symptoms)
“I ate that salad yesterday so I can eat the 20 pc nuggets with a double stacked bacon burger.
I see him being the type of person to also get them at random times and this time happened to be at night time.
You happened to be curled up on him, sleeping peacefully when his stomach growls.
So as quietly and quickly as he could he picks you up and gently sets you on the bed, tucking you in and nuzzling against your face before he leaves, closing the door…..
But as soon as he turns around to put on his shoes, there you are in one of his big shirts, some tiny shorts and your bonnet, looking super sleepy.
“Where you goin’ Ku?”
“I was going to McDonald’s”
“Without me🥺”
He chuckles and takes off his Nike hoodie to put on you while you put on your slippers. He grabs his wallet,his keys, your hand and ya’ll are off.
As he pulls up to the window to order, he gets a meal that would rival Fatgum’s, but then he turns to look at you, asking you if you wanted anything.
“You want anything siren?” “No thank you”
This man has the audacity to look at you for a second before turning around and orders your usual.
You’re looking at him like :/ “Babe i said I wasn’t hungry” and he just chuckles and your still like :/
He drives up to pay and get the food and as soon as you get the food in your lap, your stomach grumbles
and hes looking at you like ;)
Your not even mad (okay maybe you are a bit pouty because he was right) but in your head, all you see is Husband material.
He better pop the question soon or you will puurrrr
A/n: These were kinda bad but I’ve been thinking about this for weeks. Like imagine he really did that because he knew that you were going to ask for a bite when y’all got home and he was not in the mood to share. or maybe he did it because his instinct were telling him that he needed to plump up his partner so they would be ready to bare his children after his rut…Well i guess we’ll never know lmfaoo
Y'all have no idea how happy I was when South of Midnight won an award at the Game Awards 😭🩵 Can't wait for the game to hit PS5 and the Switch in the spring so others can finally experience it 🥹
(Also wanted to share a pic I took of a little helper 🐱)
A dear anon Requested; Yandere Rover with unlucky reader.
While thinking about how to write it, I remembered a request in my Wattpad; Yandere Male Rover with an Isekai'd simp reader.
The ideas opened the flood gates and I combined the two to write it, But accidentally I posted the half written Oneshot instead of saving in drafts, in a panic I deleted the whole thing and then lost the anon Ask.
(╥﹏╥) ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ
After having a meltdown, I got back the motivation and wrote it from scratch.
Yandere M! Rover x unlucky simp isekai'd F!Reader
This was the blueprint / reference sheet for this oneshot.
Slowburn
12k words (was having so much fun writing this I didn't even notice the word count.)
Wuwa Version 2.0 Rinascita spoilers
Rinascita was never ready for your thirst.
You were losing your mind. Not in a metaphorical, “haha I love this game” way—no, actually losing it. Right there on your bed, wrapped in a blanket burrito, your phone inches from your face, you screamed at a pixelated man who had no idea the chokehold he had on your soul.
“YESSSSS! 100K DAMAGE! GO OFF, KING!”
Your screen was a whirlwind of Havoc energy—your Rover dodging as your fingers maneuvered with precision on your phone screen. With a flick of his fingers, the Umbra bar pulsed to max, you clicked the resonance Liberation.
His voice came:
“You will Obey!”
“AHHHH I SWEAR TO GOD YOU COULD MURDER ME AND I’D THANK YOU—”
Dark Surge erupted. His scythe formed from a pulse of void-black resonance, and in a single sweep, the TD was gone. Like, deleted. A 100K crit damage number splashed across the screen and you collapsed backward like it had personally hit you.
You clutched your phone above your head, grinning like a madman, heart pounding like you'd just been proposed to. “This is it. This is peak gaming.”
Then gravity remembered you existed. The phone slipped from your fingers and smacked you right on the nose. You yelped, hands flailing, dignity nowhere in sight.
Peak gaming? More like peak misfortune.
After picking up your phone, you started to do your dailies. The dailies were easy. With him by your side, you finished off everything with a grin. You tried to act normal—keyword tried. But you still found yourself whispering, “Look at my man gooo~” every time he did that spinning blade combo.
"Now, I just need to finish the Rinascita quest and Aero Rover is mine!" you declared dramatically, just as your phone clung to life at a tragic 5%. You stared at it like it had personally betrayed you. With the sigh of someone who's been wronged by fate itself, you slapped it onto the charger.
When you finally logged out, you sighed long and hard, rolling onto your stomach.
“God, I wish I was there,” you muttered. “Like, not even in a weird way.” You rolled around on the bed, talking to yourself like any sane person would. “Okay, maybe a little weird, but I just wanna meet him. I’d totally be chill, right? I’d be cool. He wouldn't know I'm mentally married to him. I can fake normal.” You stared up at the ceiling.
“Just one chance, universe. One chance.”
Like the protagonist of every isekai anime ever, you fell asleep like that, mind filled with daydreams about him. Blanket half on the floor. Still mumbling about scythe physics and “how hot it is when he says anything in that voice of his.”
You woke up mid-scream.
Not because you were in danger. You were falling. Your body was currently plummeting through the air like a sack of potatoes. A flash of green, a swirl of clouds, and now—face-first into a patch of moss.
“Mmfh—ow—oof—my back…” you groaned, rolling over with all the grace of a flipped turtle. Leaves stuck to your cheek. Something—probably a bug—buzzed suspiciously near your ear. You slapped it away with a shriek and scrambled up, wobbling like a newborn deer.
What the hell?
You looked around, eyes wide. The trees swayed gently above you. As you looked up, a breathtaking sight unfolded—towering trees and jagged mountains pierced through the clouds. Ancient ruins peeked through the foliage, whispering tales of a bygone era. The air was thick with the scent of moss and hummed with strange frequencies.
Everything shimmered faintly, like the game’s graphics got injected with magic steroids. Except... this wasn’t your screen. This was real.
You smacked your own cheek once. Twice. “Ow—okay. Okay. This is happening.”
Your heart thundered. You spun in a circle, awe and panic slamming into each other like bumper cars. “This is Rinascita. This is actually Rinascita—holy SHIT I’m IN the GAME.”
You shrieked and tripped over a tree root you definitely should’ve seen, collapsing into a bush. It scratched the hell out of your arm, but the pain was just proof: real, not a dream.
And then you heard footsteps. You froze, your butt still plopped on the bush.
Crunch. Crunch.
Shadows danced across the moss. A low hum of resonance energy vibrated through the air, in a way that sent goosebumps down your spine.
As he came into view, your lungs forgot how to function for a second as your gaze collided with his. Broad shoulders, lean waist. Black belts/straps wrapped around his hips and chest—he looked very dreamy up front.
And those eyes, so magnetic. “I love you,” you blurted out without even letting the thought cook in your brain.
The silence was loud, as he paused, shocked by the abruptness and genuineness of your tone. Even the wind paused like, girl.
You clamped your hands over your mouth, eyes wide in horror. “I—I mean—not like that—I mean yes like that but not in a weird way—well, okay, maybe a little weird, but—oh god, I just—I swear I’m normal. Sometimes... Fuck.”
Rover tilted his head, stepping closer, his eyes zoning in on the cut on your arm. “Are you injured?”
“Yes—no—I mean emotionally, yes. Physically... just my ego,” you mumbled the last part, still embarrassed.
You tried to stand, but your foot caught the same cursed root and you fell again, this time right at his feet. Like a peasant paying tribute.
You groaned into the dirt. “This is why I can’t have nice things. My unlucky streak is at it again...”
He didn’t laugh. Of course not. He is a gentleman through and through. Instead, he crouched down beside you.
You stared up at him from the ground, limbs tangled and expression fully dead inside. “You’re even hotter in person. That’s not helping.”
Pause, try not to be so obvious. you scold yourself, reminding yourself to keep the fangirling to a minimum.
He held his hand in front of you to help you get up, voice low and calm. “You seem... disoriented. Are you actually alright?”
You shook your head, took his offer with the kind of reverence usually reserved for divine intervention, allowing him to pull you up. He didn’t comment on the way you tripped again immediately after and used his jacket to steady yourself.
“I am sorry,” you whispered, gripping the fabric like a lifeline. “I’m not usually like this...”
He helped you be steady on your feet. His eyes didn’t leave your face. “That’s difficult to believe,” he said softly.
You couldn’t tell if he meant it as sarcasm or observation—but either way, damn, it did things to you, and he was so close.
You feel the lingering warmth of his hand on yours.
Not metaphorical warmth, Not the “he touched me, oh my God I’m swooning” kind. Actual heat, like a campfire still flickering in your veins. You glance down at your fingers You’d clung to him like he was the last thread tethering you to sanity—because maybe, he is.
He hasn’t stepped away, still hovering near. You guess he’s staying close so you don’t trip again. aw, how nice of him!
You’re still staring at that hand of yours. It’s shaking, combined with the sting of the scratch on your arm.
You blink down at your fingers. Curl them. Uncurl. You press your thumb into your palm like you’re trying to wake up—you already know the answer but you are still in denial. Nothing happens. The world doesn’t blur. There’s no logout button hovering over your peripheral vision.
Your throat tightens.
“I’m in Wuthering Waves,” you whisper, voice barely carried by the air. “The game. This is the game.”
You blink up at the sky—those shattered clouds, the hazy blue, the orange-tinged light that never feels quite right. It’s too beautiful to be real, and that’s the problem.
“I’m in the fucking game.” Your legs go stiff. You can’t look at Rover. Not yet. You can feel him beside you though. “Wait, wasn’t Truck-kun in charge of Isekai?! I mean, I love this game and I’m in it… I was happy a moment ago, but now I suddenly feel anxious!”
“I can’t even run two miles without gasping like a dying fish,” you mumble, voice catching on a breath. “I sprain my ankle walking too fast in socks. And now I’m here… in a post-apocalyptic monster hellscape…”
A breath escapes your lips. It sounds like a laugh, but it’s broken. It doesn’t make it past your teeth.
“I’m going to die here,” you whisper, almost stunned by your own words. “Of course this happened to me. Of course, knowing my luck. My life is just a string of bad RNG. And now in a game that would have me killed in less than a second!”
Your knees feel unsteady. The nausea creeps in like a slow wave, curling into your gut. Rover silently stands beside you, So completely unaware that you are currently having a mental breakdown in HD 4K resolution.
Maybe he knows but doesn't want to interrupt, ah, you are too far gone to think about that. You inhale shakily, Try to joke it off. “Haha, yeah, I’m sure I’ll be fine,” you whisper but Your voice cracks.
Cool. Cool. Everything is fine.
You stare at him, Then you ask, “Have you met Cartethyia yet?”
He tilts his head. “...Who?”
You laugh. It’s the kind that sounds like it’s trying to crawl its way out of your throat, a panicky exhale.
You start mumbling.
“Montelli family… yeah, you’re supposed to team up with Carlotta. There’s this whole bit where you join the Troupe of Fools? Fight against Phrolova but make it look like a carnival performance. And then you receive the Laurel from Cartethyia, the Maiden. You meet her when she is dancing on water.”
You rub your temple, your brain short-circuiting, You crouch on the ground, slowly curling in on yourself, arms tightening around your knees.
“I don’t want to die,” you whisper, too soft. “I don’t even know how to hold a sword. I can’t fight monsters. I can’t run.”
Seeing someone fall, Rover quickly ran to help the said person. He had noticed you long before you realized he was watching.
Not just the way you stood awkwardly in this world—your posture not matching the other inhabitants, not aligning with the rhythm of this reality—but the way your eyes followed him. That slow trail of longing, like your gaze held a history no one had written yet.
He sees people look at him all the time. Wanting something. Needing something. Dressing up desperation in flattery.
But you blinked at him like someone seeing a memory in flesh. Like someone who couldn’t quite believe he existed. And then—“I love you.”
The words landed with a sincerity so bare, so vulnerable, it made his breath still for half a second.
Not lust. Not seduction. No angled smile or slanted voice. Just a truth, trembling at the base of your tongue, so unfiltered it didn’t even wait for permission.
His mind locked onto you like a puzzle piece with edges that didn’t match anything else in the box.
Flirting—he’d seen it all. It was currency here, like pain or adrenaline. Everyone tried it. A hand brushed too long, a compliment too smooth, a feigned stumble into his chest. It was the unspoken agreement of survivors: flatter the strong, and they might protect you.
He’d grown immune to it. So when you said you loved him?
He waited for the follow-up. The manipulation. The ask. The trade. But it never came.
You just stood there, awkward and pink in the cheeks, with eyes darting like you regretted speaking too loudly in church.
He noted the way you bit your lip, then tried to backtrack. The fumble of your fingers, the way you kept glancing away like maybe if you looked somewhere else long enough, time would rewind itself and un-say what you’d said.
Cute. He found you cute.
He’d catalogued emotions a thousand times. Studied expressions for lies, eyes for betrayal, postures for threat.
But yours didn't fit any category.
And then came the dump.
The babble of a girl who knew too much. Who said names like passwords, dropped references like prophecy.
At first, he assumed you were delirious. Shell shock, maybe. Madness. The kind that comes after a concussion, you did appear out of nowhere from the sky.
But the more you spoke, the more specific it all became.
You told him he was a character. That you had played through this world, and he was at the center of it.
He didn’t believe it.
But the clarity of your voice, the ache in it, the precision with which you whispered names—it didn’t match a lie. It matched conviction.
He stored it. Like a tracker tagging something rare. Slid the information into a mental folder and filed it next to things he wasn’t supposed to understand yet.
Later. He’d circle back to it later.
He watched as your body began to tremble. As you sank into yourself, shoulders hunched, head bowed like the weight of this world and the other one you came from had finally crashed together.
“You’re still alive, see,” Rover finally spoke, making you look up at him from your knees. He crouched down beside you again.
“Let me help you. We should definitely go somewhere safer. The forest is filled with TDs.”
Offering you his hand again, he watched as you stared at him like a deer in headlights.
“I’ll ask Zani to accommodate a place for you to stay. It seems you’ve lost your way.”
You blink rapidly. Rover watched you with a calm, unreadable gaze, waiting for you to take his hand. It seemed you had finally calmed down—or perhaps he’d distracted you—because the last trembles of your meltdown were fading.
“So,” he said, voice smooth like worn velvet, giving you a small smile. “What is your name?”
You, still high off panic and full simp-mode, blurted, “You can call me your wife.”
Instant regret. Your eyes went wide. “Wait, I didn’t mean—I mean—I don’t mind if you do, but I didn’t mean to—oh god, I’m making this worse—sorry—ah, I’ll stop!”
You buried your face in your hands, wanting the ground to open up and swallow your simp soul. “Forget I said anything. Please.”
Rover couldn’t help the amused glint in his eyes. He wanted to test something. The edge of his voice dipped, smooth and amused, just enough to tilt the world sideways.
“...Would you tell me your name, or should I start calling you ‘my wife’ ?”
You squealed internally. Your soul left your body. Your mind short-circuited. “That would be nice,” you said in a dazed whisper.
Rover chuckled softly. You were quite fun to tease.
Your eyes flew open. “Ah! No! I mean—sorry! My name is [Name]!”
You finally took his hand as he helped you stand. You let go quickly, already embarrassed and internally cringing at your slip-ups. You wanted to keep your fangirling side locked up, so you took a step away from him.
“I’ll guide you back to Ragunna City and help you settle,” Rover said, already walking ahead.
You stayed frozen in place.
Noticing you weren’t following, Rover glanced back. “Stay close,” he said calmly.
Startled, stumbling a bit before quickly jogging to catch up, falling into step beside him.
Oh god. You are so fucked.
You and Rover have been walking for… you don’t even know how long. Not to mention, as you two were walking out of the forest, there were so many TDs that attacked. Thank god Rover took care of all of them, and you were happily cheering him on from the back.
The misfortunate situation is not lost on you, knowing how your luck is, you were kinda expecting to run into more trouble after that. But this journey so far has been peaceful, and now you really don’t want to jinx it.
Oh, thinking about how peaceful it is might jinx it. I should stop. You shake your head to dispel the thought.
The weather’s nice too. Sunny, but not too much. The clouds, thick, cottony ones, hide the sun occasionally. Just the right kind of sky to take a walk and touch some grass.
Reaching a set of stone stairs, you notice a Resonance Nexus nearby. Rinascita Nexuses are shaped like the lower part of a fish’s tail, it’s unique. And on your left side… is a cave. A very dark one.
“Do you know this place?” Rover’s smooth voice comes from just beside you, making you snap out of your daze.
“Umm… I don’t know much of the map of Rinascita since I just started playing and then got dumped here. Well, I already know about the port part, where Brant and his crew leave you and then you meet Zani. I think… My memory’s a little fuzzy. Wait, no! You meet Phoebe first… now that I think more about it, you meet an NPC called Cristopopo. No, um… what was his name?”
You ramble on, words slipping faster than your common sense.
“Cristoforo…” Rover answers, his eyes narrowing as he watches you with a sharpened gaze. “How did you know all this?”
At first, he chalked off your ramblings as a possible concussion response. But now? You know how he arrived here. Who he met. Too much, actually. All of this is starting to feel very suspicious.
“Because I was the one behind the screen, Rover!” you chuckle, then pause.
Wait…Your brain stutters. Shouldn’t I be hiding the fact that I know too much? I’ve seen enough isekai anime to know this is a red flag move.
“Oh shit…” You slowly meet Rover’s gaze and smile as innocently as possible. “I am a normal human… who’s a little crazy. Yep! I think I actually got a concussion by falling from the sky! Weird… hahaha…”
You laugh nervously, trying to lighten the mood, where was your common sense when you needed it the most?!
But those golden eyes, glint with something unreadable. The air suddenly feels thick with tension.
Rover nods slowly, and you exhale a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “This is the way to the city square.” he says, pointing toward the cave.
…?No way. If you remember correctly, this actually leads to the Cathedral—the Order’s base.
Still, you follow him into the cave. He walks a few steps ahead while you lag behind. It’s dim, lit only by candles on either side, on the ground, shadows licking the stone walls. The air is cold and damp.
It’s so dark that if someone were to murder anyone in here… no one would know.
You chuckle to yourself.
Imagine if Rover brought you here to murder you because you’re suspicious. Hahaha… funny.
Rover pauses mid-step as if he heard that thought.
You freeze.
He turns to look at you and you swear his eyes are glowing.
“There are stone stairs up ahead. I think I should guide you from here, knowing how you can trip unprompted.” he says, offering his hand.
Aw, how nice! But wait, did he just make fun of you?
Eh, whatever. You can’t focus on that when Rover just remembered something so trivial about you! Your heart does a little flip as you take his hand without hesitation.
He helps you walk down the stairs, and the cave opens into a half-balcony area. From here, you can see the structure of the place more clearly.
There’s an opening to your left where the stairs lead down to a wide area with a fountain in the center. Another balcony lies to the right, and what looks like an elevator structure stands to the left.
Oh! you know this place.
“Rover! This is the Cathedral area, not the city square. The elevator leads down to the entrance of the Cathedral and…”
You walk to the balcony that overlooks the Cathedral’s massive dome.
“And I remember doing an Echo Challenge: Flight VI here!”
You turn to face Rover. “So why did you—” Your voice dies inside your throat as you see the look on his face.
He’s smiling, The I-just-confirmed-my-suspicion kind of smile.
And he looks so hot.
“…you know a lot more than you let on,” he says, casually.
You raise both your hands in surrender. “Look, I’m from another universe who got dropped into this one out of nowhere! And then I met my future husb—”
Rover raises an eyebrow. You panic and pivot mid-sentence.
“I mean, I told you everything I know! I’m no threat! I can’t even fight or anything!”
You’re really selling this like a bad NPC, and the delivery is getting desperate. A true Oscar performance.
Rover nods again, as if still processing your info. Then he lifts his chin toward the landscape. “That’s Ragunna City. But you already know that, don’t you?”
You look out across the scenery. In the game, it’s beautiful but in real life? It’s stunning.
“Are we gonna take the elevator, then a boat to the city?” you ask, excited.
“No,” Rover says. And suddenly, he’s standing right in front of you.
You gulp.
His eyelashes are so long. His lips look kissable as hell
Focus!
“—Ready?”
“Huh?”
Before you can even process it, Rover’s hand wraps around your waist and pulls you close as he jumps off the balcony.
His Flight wings appear just in time, catching the wind, and the two of you are soaring through the air. The wind rushes past you, your heart threatening to beat right out of your chest.
Down below, the city opens up in all its glory. It’s breathtaking.
Rover lands gracefully on the city square, letting go of you immediately. You wobble, regaining your footing, eyes wide.
“You should’ve warned me first!” you exclaim. “But that was awesome! It’s such a bummer you can only use this utility in Rinascita and not in Huanglong.”
Rover frowns slightly, but then smirks. “I did tell you we were about to fly down to the city square.” He leans closer to your eye level. “Seems like, you were lost in that head of yours.”
Ugh. This man. Why is he so……illegally attractive?
Ragunna City in all its glory, where the architecture immediately captivates with its harmonious blend of form and function. Buildings rise in warm hues of beige, ivory, and terracotta, their facades adorned with intricate carvings and ornate balconies that seem like something straight out of a dream.
Canals weave through the city like veins, crossed by arched stone bridges that connect various districts. Along these waterways, colonnaded walkways provide shaded paths, their columns supporting overhanging terraces lush with greenery.
"Wow!" You’re blown away by how breathtaking the city is. “It’s about time Zani called…” Rover murmurs just as his terminal rings.
“Unfortunately, bad news, I did connect with the places around, but there aren’t any rooms available in any of the hotels in the city,” Zani says over the call. Rover had asked her if she could arrange a room for you.
What surprises you more is that Rover didn’t mention a single thing about how he found you, where you're from, or any of your wildly suspicious ramblings. He simply stated you were someone important to him and that Zani should treat you like she treats him.
Weird… but you don’t dwell on it.
“I’ve told some of my people to keep searching. This is uncanny to say the least,” Zani continues, and Rover hums in response.
“If we can’t find anything,” Rover says, turning his gaze to you and calling your name, “you can stay with me.”
You blink. Spending a night with Rover? In a room? Alone?! Count me in.
After the call ends, you’re busy ogling the streets—your eyes wide as you try to soak everything in.
“Would you like to look around the city?” Rover asks, voice smooth as silk.
“Can we?! Don’t you have to, like… go meet the head of the Montelli family? Maybe a certain troop of fools to plan the Carnival performance?”
There you go again, digging your own grave with the shovel. Might as well throw in a few flowers while you’re at it, because Rover is clearly locked onto you again.
“…”
“Ah—I would love to! Let’s look around the city!” you shout, immediately speed-walking toward the Tub Tacet Discord to distract him.
“Hey Rover, she is very suspicious…”
“Shh…Abby, now is not a good time.”
Rover simply follows, letting you lead the way, subtly steering you through the city like he’s indulging you… or observing. Either way, you're too thrilled to care.
The shops are narrow but deep, with arched doorways and canvas shades overhead. The lighting is dim but golden, bouncing off copper lanterns and polished wood counters. Markets are open-air, scattered through the city like hidden gems.
You’re definitely enjoying yourself. Doesn’t this feel like...a date?
And to think—your mother luck has finally shown up for you, because nothing bad has happened so far. This whole exploration? Solid 10/10.
“I won’t be coming back to the hotel tonight, so the room’s all yours. I have some things to take care of. We might see each other in the morning.” Rover says as the two of you finally arrive at the hotel he’s staying at.
Might…? You blink. Right, it’s probably the quest time. Maybe he’s off to meet the Troop of Fools or something. It is nighttime, after all.
“We won’t see each other in the morning?” you ask, the disappointment slipping out before you can stop it.
“Maybe, maybe not. It Depends.” Rover gives you a smile and with that, Rover walks off after handing you the room key.
You enter the room and plop onto the bed with a dramatic sigh. So tired. Your legs are aching like you walked across the entire map. Rolling back and forth on the mattress, you try to find a comfortable position.
“I wonder… why didn’t Abby appear when I met Rover? In the Rinascita quest, Abby was always out and about…”
With that final thought, sleep takes you, deep and heavy, completely unaware that, somewhere out there, you had already slipped beneath their skin, settled into their thoughts.
The next morning, you're already up and about, practically skipping through the sun-dappled streets of Ragunna City. How could you not? You're in the world of Wuthering Waves! The most logical thing to do? Soak in every glorious detail.
Well, after that nervous breakdown yesterday, you’ve come up with a brilliant idea—you're going to settle in Ragunna City, find a job, and live a comfortable life, far away from the wild and hostile Tacet Discords.
You gasp, the memory of the Phrolova fight and its breathtaking cutscene flooding back. Oh. My. God. You're so ready.
You race toward the gathering crowd, the air buzzing with anticipation. Brant sits atop a high platform. But where's Rover? Maybe he's with Carlotta, preparing for the performance.
Suddenly, red petals begin to drift from above, catching the sunlight as they fall. You look up, and there she is.
Phrolova.
Your heart skips a beat. The sky parts like a curtain, revealing a scene that's both eerie and mesmerizing. The atmosphere is tinged with an otherworldly aura, sending a thrill down your spine.
The crowd's cheers swell as Phrolova begins to speak, her voice resonating through the square. She gracefully settles onto a circular hoop suspended in the air, exuding an ethereal elegance.
It's about to begin!!!
You watch, enraptured, as Carlotta and Rover take the stage, battling wave after wave of Tacet Discords. Brant narrates the scene like a grand play, his words weaving the action into a captivating story.
The climax arrives with a burst of fireworks as Rover slices through Phrolova's wand with his scythe. He lands on the stage, the remnants of Phrolova's domain dissipating around him. A laurel materializes, crowning his head.
You're practically bouncing with joy. Witnessing this in real life is beyond anything you could have imagined. It's absolutely magnificent.
Suddenly, a feeling wraps around you like a hug, it's suffocating.
You feel Eyes on you.
You glance around and find Rover staring directly at you, his golden eyes burning with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. There's something in his gaze, so unnerving.
Instinctively, you feel an urge to hide, to escape those hauntingly beautiful eyes.
Without thinking, you turn and weave through the crowd, slipping into the narrow alleys of Ragunna City, your heart pounding in your chest.
After the Carnival, Rover walks into the hotel, footsteps soft on the polished floors. He’s greeted instantly.
“Mister Rover, another room has been prepared for you. Here’s the key,” the receptionist says with a practiced smile.
He smiles back, taking it without a word, fingers curling around the cool metal. Once inside his suite, the door clicks shut behind him.
Not a single thought passed through his head, just the static buzz of your voice echoing in some unreachable corner of his mind.
With a heavy exhale, he dropped down onto the edge of the bed. he sat with both feet planted wide on the ground, knees spread, forearms resting atop them.
One hand slid through his hair, slow, rough, pulling at the strands like he could rake the thoughts from his skull.
“I’m in the fucking game.”
“Have you met Cartethyia yet?”
“Montelli family… yeah, you’re supposed to team up with Carlotta. There’s this whole bit where you join the Troupe of Fools? Fight against Phrolova but make it look like a carnival performance. And then you receive the Laurel from Cartethyia, the Maiden. You meet her when she is dancing on water.”
“Umm… I don’t know much of the map of Rinascita since I just started playing and then got dumped here. Well, I already know about the port part, where Brant and his crew leave you and then you meet Zani. I think… My memory’s a little fuzzy. Wait, no! You meet Phoebe first… now that I think more about it, you meet an NPC called Cristopopo. No, um… what was his name?”
“But that was awesome! It’s such a bummer you can only use this utility in Rinascita and not in Huanglong.”
“Because I am the one behind the screen, Rover.”
Your previous conversations loop around in that big brain of Rover's. He rests his chin on his clasped hands, elbows propped on his knees, eyes glued to the wall.
The pulse in his temple beats a little too hard.
“She said I’m a character,” he whispered, eyes narrowing. “This world isn’t real.”
A sharp breath rattled into his lungs as he closed his eyes, tilting his head slightly, as if listening to some whisper only he could hear.
“She knows Huanglong. She knows Rinascita. She talks like she has known me since the beginning of my journey...”
“I love you.”
The moment it replayed in his mind, something fractured beneath the surface.
Abby burst from the Tacet mark, crackling into the air with a spark of gold light. “What if all she’s saying is nonsense?”
It pouted when Rover didn't say anything. “Rover, don’t we have to meet Carlotta, Brant and Roccia for the celebration tomorrow? Let's just sleep!”
He didn’t move. His eyes were still on the wall, still seeing the shape of your smile in the cracks of the paint.
“Abby… what’s her frequency like?”
Abby blinked, startled by the question. “Eh? I mean—it’s normal. Kind of weirdly low, actually. But it’s got this… this vibe to it. Hard to explain.”
Abby floated in slow, thoughtful circles, frowning in concentration. “It just feels…”
Rover’s gaze finally broke from the wall, softening when turning to Abby.
“Out of this world!” Abby said suddenly, snapping its little paw-fingers. “That’s it!”
He nodded. “Otherworldly,” he murmured, almost to himself. Then his voice dropped. “Can you absorb her?”
Abby jerked in mid-air, appalled. “Ew! No! She’s sweet! Like aggressively sweet! I’d get indigestion.”
A slow exhale left Rover’s mouth. He stood without another word, walking to the door, movement fluid, like the weight of his thoughts no longer held him down.
“Will we go to the party tomorrow?” Abby zipped after him, in an excited spiral. “Umm..where are we going?”
Rover nods, smiling softly at Abby. “Yes we will. For now I just need some fresh air.” Abby floats beside his shoulder. “What about the strange girl?”
He pauses at the threshold, a shadow stretching long behind him from the hallway lights.
“I must keep her close.”
You weave through the streets, your steps slowing to a casual stroll despite the frantic beat of your heart.
It felt like… no, you don’t want to finish that thought.
There’s no reason to. Rover would never—he’s gentle, thoughtful, the kind of man who's Carring and always waits for your answer. He’s your Rover.
The sun has long dipped below the skyline, shadows stretching like claws across the cobblestones. The streets are lit by eerie blue lamps, that give off that weird hypnotic sound.
The occasional flutter of a curtain from open windows, or the low creak of Ragunna City's buildings, the distinct sound of people are the only thing keeping you company, You have walked towards the empty part of the city.
You’re not walking with any direction, just letting your feet take you through the winding alleys, marveling at how this place feels so much like Rome. So beautiful, so rich with history and yet, so easy to get lost in.
The wind howls through the upper levels, curling around the rooftops like a predator circling in silence.
And then it hits you, that feeling. That dreadful, skin-prickling, breath-snatching feeling. Something is watching you.
You lift your gaze, heartbeat stalling.
Two glowing purple orbs, blink into existence atop a rooftop. They shift, jump, moving roof to roof, always staying just far enough to make you doubt…
but close enough that you know they’re watching. And they’re getting closer.
No. No, no, no.
One single word cuts through every thought Run.
And so you do.
You bolt through the city, panic clawing at your throat, your shoes skidding on the stone paths as you turn corner after corner, blindly sprinting down alleyways and corners that all look the same.
The wind behind you screams. You don’t dare look back. You don’t need to. The orbs are above you now, gliding overhead like phantoms. They’re keeping up, very easily.
Your lungs are burning. Your legs ache. But still, you run.
You make a sharp turn, too sharp and slam headfirst into something solid. You stagger back, the impact jarring your senses.
And in your dazed panic you hear the person in front of you whisper your name softly, Spoken like a question, and yet it cuts through your fear like a blade. You’d know that voice anywhere.
“Rover!” you gasp, your voice a ragged mess of relief and exhaustion. “Oh thank god, Rover, I think I was being chased! There were these orbs, like, ghost things, jumping over rooftops!” You point up, frantic, your breath hitching.
But there’s nothing. Your outstretched finger trembles. You blink up at the empty rooftops.
Rover steps closer, brows furrowed with visible concern. “You didn’t return to the hotel,” he says, voice soft but serious. “I got a little worried…”
The way he says it, that makes guilt wrap tightly around your chest. You hadn’t thought about that. You’d gotten so swept up in the fear of getting away from him, but he was the only one who came to your rescue.
Before you can respond, a sharp, slightly indignant voice cuts in.
"Meh! She better have a good explanation! You wasted my precious time!"
Your heart leaps with recognition.
“Abby!!” you squeal, spotting the tiny, cat-like Echo floating indignantly beside Rover’s shoulder.
You lunge forward and scoop it into your arms before it can float away, smothering it in your excitement. “Oh my god, you're so fluffy in real life! You’re adorable! So cute!!”
“Let. Me. Go!” Abby grumbles, squirming and kicking its little limbs in protest. It floats upward with an angry wobble as soon as you loosen your grip, glaring at you with narrowed eyes.
You pout. “Ok, ok sorry! I know I didn’t ask before hugging you but I got hit with cuteness aggression! You can’t hold that against me.”
The little Echo huffs and sticks its tongue out at you without missing a beat, you stick yours right back.
Rover watches the interaction in silence, noticing how easy it is to distract you.… but that earlier intensity still lingers at the very edges of his expression.
After that long, nightmare-like night, you returned to the hotel with Rover. Morning came too soon, walking out of your room you catch a glimpse of familiar dark fabric moving past you, Your heart jumps.
Quickly, You follow him along the hallway, Rover is already walking ahead, his silhouette framed by golden light from the lobby windows.
“Rover!” you call out, voice echoing softly across the corridor.
He pauses mid-step, turning just slightly. That warm, boyish smile spreads across his face—“Good Morning.” and that breathy softness of his tone. The kind that makes your chest squeeze painfully and your legs feel weak.
It’s stupid how fast he can do that to you.
You greet him back with enthusiasm, falling into step beside him, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. It's too early to be simping again, gotta make your brain think of something else.
“You know, I was thinking... I’m going to stay in Ragunna City. Maybe get a job, settle in a bit. That way I don’t have to run into any Tacet Discords...and honestly...I really don’t want to learn how to fight.”
Rover’s eyes flick toward you as he opens the front entrance of the hotel. The door glides smoothly, and he holds it open without a word, letting you step through first.
“That’s smart thinking,” he murmurs, and for a second, you swear there’s something weightier behind his tone.
Your heart does a flip. Rover just called me smart. He thinks I’m smart! Heh!
You glance up at him, beaming, but the smile on his face has vanished. He’s watching you now. A stillness in him, like the air before lightning strikes.
“But,” he says slowly, and starts walking again, now the two of you are walking down the streets. “You told me about what happened last night… and it sounds like Ragunna City might not be as safe as you think.”
You blink at him. “Wait… you believe me?” The shock is real, raw. You hadn’t expected him to take your words seriously.
He stops walking and Turns. His golden eyes meet yours, catching the sunlight just right, there’s a glimmer in them that feels too sharp to be soft, too intense to be gentle.
“Yes, I do,” he says, voice smooth, measured. “Every single word since we met… I’ve believed you.” He leans in slightly, lowering his tone to something quieter, something softer that curls beneath your skin. “You wouldn’t have a reason to lie to me. Right?”
There’s no threat in his voice. None at all. Only kindness. Too much kindness. It floods over you, sweet and heavy. You gulp.
But then you see it. That unwavering focus in his eyes. Like he’s not just hearing you but memorizing every syllable, and every feature of yours.
Still, your smile returns, hesitant but hopeful. He believed you, About the ghost. You weren’t crazy, and somehow that felt like everything.
“Yep! I was serious about that.” you say, a little breathless. “Thank you.”
Right then, his terminal buzzes.
But Rover doesn’t reach for it immediately, His eyes linger on you, longer than necessary, longer than what should be polite. like the interruption has offended him somehow.
Only when the buzzing repeats does he finally pick it up.
“Were you awake, Rover? I trust you had a restful sleep?” a woman’s voice purrs from the other end.
You slap a hand over your mouth to stifle the squeal building in your throat, eyes going wide. Oh my god. It's Carlotta! This is it! This is where he goes to meet with Brant, Roccia. You're practically vibrating with excitement, quietly giggling into your hand like a lovesick person.
“Psst! What are you giggling about!?” a tiny voice snaps beside you.
You blink, turn your head and flinch. “Abby!? When did you get out of Rover’s Tacet mark? You’re still weak, you shouldn’t be out!”
Abby floats right into your face, squinting suspiciously. “You’re weird. You know things only me and Rover should know. I’m watching you.” It squints harder, doing the two fingers motion from its eyes to yours, then promptly zips back into Rover’s Tacet mark like a gremlin vanishing into shadow.
The call ends with a soft beep.
Rover turns back to you, but there’s something unreadable in his gaze, like he’s thinking too much. Or not thinking at all. “Don’t mind Abby,” he says. “Would you like to come with me?”
You blink. “Where?”
He raises an eyebrow, as his lips quirk up slightly. “You already know the answer. So why ask?”
You huff, flustered, watching as Rover turns his back to you, walking ahead with a casual confidence. Like he already knows you’ll follow.
The space you arrive in is open and tastefully decorated, big plush couches arranged around a low table, soft lighting casting warm glows over the area.
And your breath catches.
Because there they are—Brant, Carlotta, and Roccia. In the flesh. Living, breathing, talking. Not just pixels or dialogue boxes. You practically light up, your eyes going wide and sparkling like you’ve stepped into a dream made real.
You barely register the soft click of Rover’s boots behind you.
He watches you. Watches the way your mouth parts just a little in awe, the way your body angles forward in excitement.
He drinks in every detail like he’s parched...
but it’s not enough. Because for the first time since you met… you’re not looking at him.
You’re looking at them.
And he doesn’t like it.
Not one bit.
There’s a weight in his chest, something sharp and unfamiliar. A prickling tightness blooming behind his ribs like thorns.
He clears his throat softly, a warning disguised in civility.
You blink, glancing back at him. He’s smiling But something in his eyes is off.
Rover gestures toward the trio and some other people from the troop of fools with a tilt of his head, silently urging you forward. You step ahead with a nervous bounce, and he trails just behind you.
His eyes never leave you.
Not even for a second.
“Raise your glasses! Shout it loud, friends! To us! To the carneval! And to our very own Laureate!” Brant cheered, his voice a bit too loud and his steps more than a little wobbly. He looked absolutely wasted, swaying on his feet as he raised his drink high into the air with a proud grin.
You paused, standing just a few feet away from him, trying not to let your expression reveal the internal screeching happening inside your head. Rover stepped forward slightly, close enough that his shoulder nearly brushed yours. “Please, stop,” he murmured. “You’re making me feel embarrassed.”
Brant gave Rover a sloppy, closed-eyed smile, completely unbothered by the scolding. Then his gaze shifted and landed on you and he lit up like a firework. “Oh! The Laureate's Maiden!” he exclaimed, voice cracking with excitement as he stumbled a little. “You were the one Rover left so early for, aren't you?”
He extended his drink toward you in a cheerful toast, and you froze. Your heart practically stuttered at the title, ‘Laureate’s Maiden.’ The words echoed in your mind like a prophecy.
Rover said nothing. He only lifted a hand to his forehead while shaking his head.
Carlotta’s sharp, observant eyes flicked toward you in curiosity. Meanwhile, Roccia leaned in toward her and whispered, “He’s drunk again,” before offering you a small, apologetic smile, in her shy demeanor.
You were losing your goddamn mind.
You stood there, barely holding it together, silently screaming. You were watching Brant be an absolute mess, Roccia being adorable, and Carlotta giving you the “I see you” stare. And then it hit you again how real everything is.
Your inner fangirl was one step away from combusting.
You felt it building up—your excitement almost boiling over your lips.
A hand wrapped around your wrist.
Your head snapped up, eyes locking with Rover’s. His face didn’t betray much, but the look in his golden eyes was enough—sharp, steady, and entirely too aware of what was happening inside you.
Somehow, he knew.
That you were about to slip, about to fangirl out loud and shatter the whole illusion. You didn’t even get how, but he caught it. As if he was tuned to your every breath.
You swallowed your squeal and took a deep, steadying breath. Then gave him a small, sheepish nod.
But he didn’t let go of your wrist and you could feel it in the pressure of his touch, the way he refused to release you.
Carlotta’s gaze softened, her attention drifting from Rover’s hand on you to your expression.
She smiled, and looked down for a moment, then patted the empty space beside her on the couch. It wasn’t direct, no announcement or fanfare, but the invitation was clear in her casual, elegant way. Just a subtle gesture, as if saying; Come sit. Let’s talk. You’re welcome here.
Carlotta rose gracefully, lifting her glass with a quiet confidence that commanded attention. “A toast, everyone!” she called, her voice ringing clear across the space. “drink freely and celebrate without restraint—everything’s on me.”
A ripple of cheers followed, glasses raised, laughter blooming in the air like fireworks.
You giggled to yourself, heart warm, eyes sparkling as the atmosphere buzzed around you. Slipping from Rover’s grasp—fingers parting with a reluctant drag—you moved to sit beside Carlotta on the plush sofa, feeling a soft thrill.
Carlotta turned to you, her expression calm but kind. “Welcome,” she said smoothly, folding one leg over the other. “You’re Rover’s special person. You’ll be treated as such.”
Your chest gave a small, involuntary flutter. You blinked at her, caught off guard by her directness. “Ah—Thank you! Um… but I don’t know about being special…” Your voice trailed into a mumble as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, cheeks heating. “I want to be, though…”
Carlotta tilted her head, repeating your words with an airy lilt, “You’re not?” a flicker of relief, so subtle it almost slipped past you.
Before you could open your mouth and spill something mortifying —your unfiltered thoughts like, ‘Rover's fingers felt like silk ropes and I think I stopped breathing for three seconds’—a sudden shift interrupted.
Rover moved, Just strode forward and sat himself directly between you and Carlotta, his body sliding into the space. His shoulder pressed lightly against yours, and you had no choice but to scoot slightly to the side—caught off guard by the smoothness of the maneuver.
Carlotta blinked in mild surprise, eyebrows raising ever so slightly. Your own eyes widened too. The tension was brief but palpable, like the quiet before a lightning strike.
Carlotta adjusted her posture with ease and offered no protest. She simply redirected the flow of conversation, her tone shifting into something professional as she began discussing details about the event.
Rover and Carlotta kept talking, their tones low and deliberate as Roccia chimed in now and then. You stayed quiet, content to observe. but the heat at your side was impossible to ignore.
Rover’s leg brushed against yours, now settled there, beside yours. His hand settled near his knee, close enough that you felt the weight of it, even without touch. There was less to no distance between you two.
Whatever that gesture meant, it was received. Even the Order’s acolyte, who was spying from afar noticed it.
No one would approach you. Not now. Not with him right there.
It would be reported to Primus, an unexpected detail they’d soon turn into a calculated advantage.
You’re alone again.
The wind cuts soft against your skin as you stand on the balcony—that balcony. The one Rover brought you to the cave opened up into a place, Order's Cathedral.
He got summoned by the Primus. Some urgent request, diplomatic bullshit. You didn’t want to go inside. So you told him you’d wait here—where it all began. Where you both first touched Regunna’s sky.
The elevator hums behind you.
Ding.
“Excuse me, Miss. Are you with Rover?”
You blink, caught mid-thought. When you turn, you find an acolyte standing just a few feet away, the fountain splashing steadily behind him.
“Yes?” you say slowly, confused. Why the hell is one of them talking to you?
“With the Primus’ request, we’d like to give you a tour of the Order’s wildlife.”
Huuuh!?
You stare at him, deadpan. “Does Rover know about this?”
He doesn’t answer, Instead, his hand appears from behind his back, holding out a bouquet. A beautiful one. Flowers in shades that don’t exist in Regunna’s natural palette, arranged like a bribe wrapped in silk.
“For you, my lady,” he says with a thin smile. “A gift from the Primus. As a welcome.”
Huuuuuuuhhhhh?!
You feel your social anxiety flare like a damn solar flare. You grab the bouquet on instinct just to make this weirdo stop looking at you. The scent hits you immediately—sweet, heady, with something underneath, Faint and Strange.
Rot?
No. It’s not bad. Just…
“Would you please follow me?”
You don’t want to.
You don’t want to.
You want to ask more questions. Call Rover. Push this guy into the railing and run. But your body… it’s moving. Feet light, legs slow, floating forward.
The bouquet trembles in your hands.
Your throat tightens. “Ro...ver…” you try, but your mouth opens soundlessly. Not a whisper, not a wheeze. Nothing.
Inside, you’re screaming. You are begging for your voice. For control of your body.
Help me.
But all you can do is follow.
You’re in a field now.
Wide, open, The sky is dimmer here. Or maybe you’re imagining it. You blink—your vision sharpens. The man’s walking away, saying nothing. His silhouette fades into the distant treeline like he was never there.
And just like that, you drop the bouquet.
It hits the ground with a soft thump, and suddenly—it’s like you can breathe again. Like some part of your soul just clawed its way back into your chest.
Your hands shake.
“That bastard,” you hiss, furious. You want to run back, grab someone—anyone—by the collar and scream at them, What the fuck was that?!
But… who would believe you?
Then a voice, warm and steady, echoes in your memory.
“Every single word since we met… I’ve believed you.”
Rover.
Your breath hitches. Yeah. He would believe you.
But first, you need to get the hell out of here.
You spin around, scanning the field. You don’t even know where you are. There’s grass. Rocks. A distant shimmer of trees. You have no idea which way is back to the city. And of course, the second you realize how alone you are, The air shifts.
It gets cold. And then you hear it. Skittering. Growling. Clicking. Then, like stars in a nightmare sky, they appear—one by one. Tacet Discords...At least twenty of them.
All shapes. All sizes. Some teddy bear like. Some Grotesque silhouettes against the horizon—elongated limbs, blinking eyes, wet jaws, razor-wings.
The air hums with primal danger.
Your heart drops straight into your gut.
“Nonononono! fuck me sideways...” you breathe, taking a shaky step back.
Then they move, Fast. All at once. You run.
There’s no plan. No direction. Just sheer, animal panic. You dodge a spiked tail that slams into the ground where you stood a second ago. The impact makes the earth tremble, and you scream—loud, raw.
Your luck is absolute shit—no, scratch that, it's cosmically cursed. You were having such a good time.
And now? Thrown into this mess.
Funny how things go to hell the moment Rover isn’t by your side. When he’s around, your luck feels blessed, like the universe has your back. The second he’s gone? Boom—chaos and now apparently a welcoming bouquet laced with “fuck-you” energy.
Branches whip at your arms as you dive into whatever passes for cover here—rocks, shallow dips, ruins of something ancient and forgotten. You keep going, because stopping means dying.
You trip once. Twice. A claw nearly catches your ankle. You don’t look back.
Your legs burn. Your lungs are begging for mercy.
Your brain is just screaming: You’re going to die here.
You’re not built for this. You never trained. You’re not a Resonator. You don’t belong in the middle of a Tacet Discord bloodbath.
All you have is your decent sense of sarcasm, and what you hope is enough spite to fuel your survival.
“Great!” you shout breathlessly. “This is fantastic! You guys didn't even ask me on a date and now I’m on the fucking menu?!”
A Tacet Discord shrieks behind you in response. You scream back, middle finger raised in pure survival-mode insanity.
They’re everywhere. Every direction you turn..You can't outrun them. You know that.
But you’ll damn well try.
Because dying like this—alone, devoured in the dirt like trash?
Not on your list of acceptable Tuesday activities, wait is it Tuesday here? Nevermind.
And if you’re going down... at least one of these freaks is gonna have indigestion afterward.
The air is thick with dread.
Your legs are jelly, lungs burning, and the cacophony of Tacet Discords closing in is deafening. Each breath feels like a countdown to oblivion.
Suddenly, a blinding light pierces the gloom.
A shockwave erupts, sending Tacet Discords flying like ragdolls. The ground trembles beneath you, and for a moment, the world holds its breath.
From the epicenter of the blast, a figure emerges—Rover.
But this isn't the Rover you know. His eyes blaze with an otherworldly light, and an aura of raw power radiates from him. The very air around him seems to bend, acknowledging his dominance.
He moves with lethal grace, each step purposeful. With a mere gesture, he summons ethereal weapons, dispatching Tacet Discords with surgical precision. The creatures, once so terrifying, have become his playthings.
His eyes glow—brighter than the stars, colder than space.
The frequency thickens around him like a cloak of shadows alive and hungry. His Spectro resonance still hums at the core, pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat like a ticking bomb.
In a blur of movement, Rover twists—hand slicing the TDs clean and efficiently, like a surgeon cutting through rotten flesh.
More surround him. A pulse of Havoc ignites—Dark Surge expanding. He warps forward, vanishing for a half second—then reappears behind them mid-spin, hurling his scythe from both hands. The Tacet Discords shudder before collapsing, torsos sliced clean.
You blink—and two more Tacet Discords have already fallen. You can’t even see how he did it.
You sigh in relief but damn it, he looks terrifyingly hot. That dark gleam in his eyes, the effortless precision, the sheer dominance in every move…
Yeah, you’re shaken, but a part of you? Still hopelessly down bad.
The adrenaline drains from your body like a snapped string. You can finally let go, but your limbs tremble uncontrollably. Now that the fear has passed, your body finally realizes just how close you came to dying.
A sharp crunch pulls your attention up.
Rover steps forward, walking toward your crouched form with slow, steady steps. The ground doesn’t quake beneath him anymore, and that unbearable frequency that had screamed around him moments ago has vanished. The pressure lifts.
Your Rover is back.
You wrap your arms tightly around yourself, heart pounding like a war drum as you watch him approach. He crouches in front of you, and for a moment, it’s like déjà vu—just like when you first met. That same soft smile curves his lips, like the battlefield around you doesn’t exist.
He extends a hand.
That’s it. You can’t hold it in anymore.
Tears spill over your cheeks—hot, heavy, unstoppable. The sob rips from your throat before you can even stop it. You were going to die. You were so close to being torn apart and—
You don’t even register him moving until his arms are around you, pulling you into a firm, grounding hug.
You bury your face in his chest, fists clutching the undershirt beneath his jacket like it’s the only thing anchoring you to reality.
One of his hands moves slowly over your back, tracing calming circles. The other cradles the back of your head gently, like you’re fragile glass and he’s terrified of cracking you.
And in that moment, you feel safe. Safe like never before. Not because the danger is gone.
But because he is here.
Your sobs have finally faded to sniffles. You rub your puffy eyes, shifting just a little away from his chest but still firmly in his embrace.
“I actually thought I was going to die,” you mutter, voice scratchy. “Like! I know I broke my personal record of staying alive for a week, which is amazing, but I still didn’t wanna die, you know?”
Rover hums softly, his gloved fingers gently threading through your hair. The motion is rhythmic, soothing. “You’re still alive,” he says, voice calm and warm. “See?” And there it is, that smile. Soft. Sweet. Heart-melting.
You’d fight twenty more Tacet Discords for that smile. Urm… hide behind him while he fights.
“Yeah… thanks to you,” you reply, trying to gently pry yourself from his hold.
Keyword: try.
His arms don’t budge.
“Rover… I think I’m okay now,” you laugh awkwardly. “We can head back to the city?”
You’re not sure why it came out as a question but somehow, when it comes to him, you feel like you need permission to even breathe.
Rover finally nods and lets go, though his eyes linger on you, scanning, calculating, checking every tiny tremble in your limbs.
You stand beside him, brushing dust off yourself as he steps ahead, leading the way. The silence is easy… until he speaks, like it’s casual small talk.
“I met with Primus. Can you guess what happened?”
He’s smiling, but... something’s off. You glance down and see his fists clenched so tight.
“Oh yeah!” you perk up, totally missing the tension. “I remember that quest—kind of. Doesn’t he like, talk in riddles about ‘The Maiden’ or whatever?”
You ramble, voice light and airy now, blissfully unaware that your words aren’t answering his question so much as distracting yourself.
“Mostly accurate, but he mentioned you as well. And threatened me, indirectly.”
You don’t notice how Rover’s gentle tone shifts—how frustration slips into the spaces between his words, how tightly he’s reining it in.
“Wait! Wait! Wait, what?! Am I ruining the plot?!” you blurt, wide-eyed. “No way! I don’t wanna get involved, nope. Rover, can you like—send me to Jinzhou? That place is super peaceful right now and it’d be perfect for me to start a new life in. Like then I won't have acolytes luring me into a place filled with Tds...”
Rover stops walking. There’s so much in your words that bugs him. The way you talk about leaving like it’s that simple...like he could ever let you go.
“So,” he mutters, as if confirming something to himself, “that’s what happened…”
Then louder, firm enough to cut through your spiral. “It’s okay. Nothing will happen to you.”
And he says it with such unshakable certainty, it doesn’t feel like reassurance, it feels like a threat to the universe itself. this is his vow to you.
You exhale. “Thank you…” The walk continues, and there’s a light brush of Rover’s hand against yours.
You hesitate, then test it, fingers creeping toward his, shy and slow. Like you’re asking a question without words.
And rather quickly, Rover answers.
He intertwines his fingers with yours, firm and grounding. No hesitation. Just his hand, holding yours, like he’s always meant to.
You grin to yourself, giggling inwardly like a little gremlin. Heheh, holding hands before marriage. How scandalous.
Well, you muse dramatically, we’ve held hands before… but this is different. This is sacred. Because I initiated it.
You beam with inner pride, your silly little heart puffing. Because yes, this moment matters. Because yes, you’re holding your husband’s hand.
Husband as in: you married him in your daydreams. Details, details.
As you and Rover entered Ragunna City again, you were immediately met with Carlotta. it seemed like she had been waiting for the two of you.
“Rover!” she called out, striding toward you both. Her expression brightened, then faltered the moment her gaze landed on you. Concern twisted across her face like a storm cloud. “Are you okay?! My goodness...”
“It was the Order,” Rover replied, his tone calm but clipped. Then, turning to Carlotta, he made a quiet request—asking for her help. His eyes found yours again. “I need to take care of something. Carlotta can be trusted, don’t worry. I’ll be back before you know it.”
Your hands were still interlocked—his grip firm, grounding. Then, with a final squeeze, he let go and walked away, his figure disappearing like a tether snapping loose.
You turned to Carlotta, awkwardly brushing back your disheveled hair. “Um… sorry for how I look? I feel like I offended you somehow.”
Carlotta blinked, clearly startled. “No, no! Please, be at ease. As I said before—Rover’s special person will be treated with the utmost care and respect. Please, follow me.”
She led you to her estate and provided a guest room stocked with fresh clothes. After a soothing shower and a change into soft, clean fabric, you collapsed into the bed like a soul exorcised of fatigue.
It wasn’t long before a gentle knock on the door pulled you from your nap. “Come in!”
Carlotta entered, a composed smile on her face, followed by a butler carrying a silver tray. Your mouth practically watered on reflex. The far end of the room revealed a small table and chairs. The butler wordlessly placed the tray down and exited with the elegance of a ghost. Carlotta gestured for you to sit with her, settling into one of the chairs with regal ease.
You took the seat across from her, and she offered you a genuine smile. “Don’t mind me. Please, dig in.”
You didn’t need to be told twice. The food was warm and familiar, like a safety blanket in edible form.
Finally relaxed, your guard temporarily down, you decided to bring up the thought that had been gnawing at your mind.
“So, I was thinking of going to Jinzhou. You know, that city in Huanglong...”
Carlotta tilted her head with interest, eyes glinting. “May I ask why?”
“I don’t feel safe in Ragunna City after the...” you hesitated, poking at your food, “You know... and Jinzhou is, like, very peaceful right now. A perfect place to not get attacked by anything!”
Carlotta nodded, leaning back and folding one leg over the other with the poise of a queen. “I can help you with that. Arrange transportation. I’ll make sure you arrive safely and are well taken care of once you’re inside the city.”
You gasped, hand pressed to your chest dramatically. “Omg! You would do that? Thank you so much!”
Carlotta nodded, her smile never faltering but her eyes held something calculating beneath the warmth. Of course, she had her own reasons. She was a woman of business, after all. And every investment had its return.
Carlotta had escorted you back to the hotel after receiving a message from Rover—he wouldn't be able to pick you up himself. You didn’t think much of it. Maybe he got caught up in something.
You made small talk with Carlotta.
Once you reached the hotel entrance, you turned to her with a small smile.
“Thanks... for walking with me. And for, well, everything,” you murmured, scratching your cheek awkwardly.
Carlotta smiled, her gaze softening. “Of course. Take care of yourself.”
You waved her goodbye, entering the building and making your way up the stairs, shoes clicking softly against the polished floor. As you reached your floor, something odd caught your eye. You noticed a door, just beside yours, was slightly ajar.
Curiosity won over common sense, and like the nosy little gremlin you were, you peeked.
And immediately regretted it. Who are you lying to? You didn't regret it a slightest bit.
Rover stood inside, his back to you, just as he was taking off his jacket. Then came the gloves, tossed onto a nearby chair. The strap across his chest followed, sliding off in one smooth motion. Then he reached for the hem of his shirt. That clingy, perfectly-fitted grey undershirt. He was halfway through tugging it off when your soul panicked.
You panicked, raising your fist and knocking loudly. Your eyes widened. Your cheeks caught fire.
Rover turned his head slightly, catching you in the corner of his eye, shirt now caught at his ribs, he lets go of it.
Your face flushed immediately.
He looked unfairly good like this—hair slightly tousled, collarbone peeking out, that necklace glinting against his skin like a silent warning.
“Oh, you’re back... safe and sound.” he said, voice dipped in honeyed relief. His eyes roamed over you, then lingered just a second too long. “Good.”
You cleared your throat and stepped inside like a guilty cat caught knocking over a vase. “I—uh—y-yeah, I just—sorry, I didn’t mean to peek or anything, I just—your door—it was open and—uh—” You were absolutely malfunctioning. “Your shirt is committing war crimes.”
Rover chuckled softly and didn’t press it. His smile was warm, and yet something about it felt strained, like there was static just under the surface. As he turned fully, the soft lighting dancing across his face, the shirt clinging to his muscles.
You cleared your throat, You sat down on the arm of a chair, legs swinging slightly. You figured now was a good time to talk. “Anyway, I wanted to talk to you... about something.”
He tilted his head, eyebrows lifting as he leaned against the table. “I’m listening.”
“So… I kinda had a conversation with Carlotta while I was stuffing my face with food. And, well…” you paused, watching his hands still, You smiled awkwardly. “So... I talked to Carlotta. And she said she could help me get to Jinzhou. You know, because Ragunna’s not exactly ‘let’s settle down and bake cookies’ levels of safe.”
Rover’s smile didn’t vanish—it simply froze, like a painted expression.
“Oh?” he said, with an almost imperceptible pause.
His tone stayed even. “And why would you want to go there?”
“Like I told you before..” You shrugged. “I don’t feel safe here. I mean, what happened in the field? That’s not something I want a round two of. And Jinzhou's got, like… zen energy. I can heal a bit. And I think... I need that. I think I’d feel better there. You could come visit too, of course.” You grinned at him, clearly trying to keep the conversation light, because the strange, tense atmosphere is becoming suffocating.
“I see,” Rover said softly. He took a step closer. “Leaving is the right choice?”
“I mean… yeah?” you answered with a sheepish grin. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d miss you. A lot. You’re like the world’s best emotional support. Like—seriously. Who gave you permission to look that good covered in dust?”
That got a small laugh out of him but the tension didn’t fade. His fingers flexed slightly at his side.
Then your eyes caught something, on the edge of his undershirt sleeve, just beneath the fabric...
Your heart jumped, Blood. A faint, dark smear near the hem of his shirt.
Your lightheartedness fizzled. “Wait… are you hurt?” You stood, frowning. “Did something happen?”
Rover tilted his head, then looked down like he’d forgotten the evidence on him. “No,” he said quickly. “Not my blood.”
That did not make it better. Not his? You blinked. “Then whose—?”
“It’s nothing you need to worry about,” he said with a gentle smile, the kind that felt... wrong now. “You’re safe. That’s what matters.”
That strange calm in his voice made your skin crawl in the oddest way. You tried to shake it off. Your body stiffened instinctively.
After a pause, he looked at you again—this time softer, almost vulnerable.
“Will you stay?”
You hesitated. He waited. You shook your head slowly. “No. I mean, I care about you, and I have made that clear, I guess very clear… but I just don’t want to stay here anymore. It doesn’t feel right. I need space. Maybe you can come visit me in Jinzhou when you get a break or something?”
You smiled gently and stepped toward the door.
But it shut before you could touch the handle.
A hand pressed flat against the wood in front of you, and heat rushed down your spine. Rover was behind you now, close enough that you felt the weight of his presence in your bones.
“That,” he whispered, voice no longer gentle but absolute, “is not an option.”
Your breath caught in your throat.
You turned your head slightly, only to find his face right there, cheek against your hair, mouth near your ear.
“I didn’t believe you at first,” he began, voice barely above a whisper. “When you said all those things. About me. About this world. I thought you were just being poetic. But I listened. Every word. Every little slip. You’ve known me since the beginning, haven’t you?”
You slowly turned to face him. His eyes weren’t wide with madness. No. They were too calm. Too lucid. And that was so much worse. You backed up slightly but there was nowhere to go, Your back pressing against the door.
“You talk like you’ve always known me. From the beginning of my journey. Every choice I’ve made...you understand it before I even speak…”
He exhaled a laugh—short, humorless. “I started noticing things after I met you. Things I shouldn’t notice. The way the world shifts around us. The way time bends. The way... none of it feels real anymore.”
You blinked. “What are you talking about—?”
“I see it now,” he breathed. “The repetition. The scripted kindness. The way people pause just long enough for you to speak. I am in a story. I wholeheartedly believe you now...And you…”
He leans closer, his elbow bending, caging you gently between him and the door.
“You are the only unpredictable thing in this world. The only one who looks at me like I’m more than lines of code. The only one that feels real. Because you are the only one anchoring me to the real world.”
You could hear the tremble building under his voice, like a crack in the earth before the quake.
“I started wondering—what am I? A character in a story? A game? Made for people’s amusement?”
His voice broke, briefly. “Am I real, or just code wrapped in skin?”
You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat.
“You’re the only thing that makes sense now,” he continued. “You’re the only one who doesn’t glitch. The only one who talks like she’s seen me.”
“Rover—”
“No. Listen. Do you understand what that means?” His hand cupped your cheek—soft, reverent, yet trembling with obsession barely restrained. “You are my anchor. Without you, this world dissolves. Without you, I become... just another piece of fiction.”
His forehead pressed against yours.
“I don’t want to forget how your voice sounds. I don’t want to wake up and realize I imagined you. I don't want to go back to a loop where you never existed.”
You felt his breath tremble against your lips.
“I need to know that I’m not just a story you’ll get tired of.”
Your heart thundered in your chest—part fear, part something far too complicated to name.
“I fucked up...” you whisper to yourself, barely audible.
Rover smiles.
That soft, puppy-like smile. The kind that used to melt your heart, the kind that once made you believe he could never hurt you. The kind that now feels like a mask.
He steps away for a moment—only to hook his fingers around your wrist with a gentle tug, pulling you back. You stumble, breath catching, and the back of your knees meets the edge of the bed with a muted thud.
“I notice everything about you,” he murmurs. “The way you dote on me... those little moments? They don’t go unnoticed.”
He extends his hand—like he always has. From the moment you met until now, it has always been there, waiting. Waiting for you to take it.
And you always did. With no hesitation. Sometimes even with joy.
But now...
Now you hesitate.
His hair is slightly disheveled, a few strands falling into his eyes. There’s a faint smear of blood at the hem of his grey shirt—crimson staining cotton like paint across canvas. When he tilts his head, the necklace he always wears catches the light, swinging like a pendulum.
Even now, in this moment, he looks so...Beautiful. Unreal.
“Don’t you want to be my wife?” His voice is low, coaxing. “Why hesitate now...?”
He says your name like a lover's prayer. Or a spell. Like the idea of you slipping away is unbearable. And it makes you ache to take his hand again.
“You said you loved me. Remember?”
His eyes widen. The desperation in them is stark, unhidden, raw. Wild. Like a man teetering on the edge of a cliff and calling it faith. Like falling is a choice... and dragging you down with him is a promise.
Then, in a voice so quiet it makes your stomach twist.
“So prove it.”
Your breath stutters. He was patient. He gave you your space, didn’t he? Gave you time to think. To breathe. He waited...
But patience is fragile.
And even if you run, it won’t matter. he’s the main character of this world. He knows that. he knows this world bends to him.
You can’t escape.
Everyone loves him, adores him. They always will. He’ll use that love, twist it into a cage so soft you won’t even know you’re inside it.
He sees it now, your fear. Sees the way your body tenses like a trembling leaf. He exhales, slow and measured, and steps into your space until there’s nothing left between you.
“Jinzhou,” he repeats, like he’s tasting the word. “You want to go there?”
You nod quickly, reflexively. Any wrong move could shift the moment. Could turn gentleness into something else entirely.
His hands lift, hovering in the air, waiting, Would you flinch? He would never do something that would push him away from you.
But you don’t flinch. You don’t move.
So he cups your cheeks with such tenderness it makes your skin crawl.
“There,” he whispers. “Relax. You can go to Jinzhou. I won’t stop you.”
You shiver. His voice is calm, but his eyes... those eyes aren’t the ones you fell in love with. They’re deeper now, darker, bottomless pits that don’t reflect light, only swallow it.
Because this world already belongs to me. I don’t need to lock you up to keep you.
“Don’t worry,” he soothes, fingers brushing along your jaw. “You’re safe. I’ll make sure of that.”
And you nod.
You lean into his touch because, in this world—whether you like it or not—he’s the only one who can protect you. The only one who won’t let you go.
originally posted on 9.29.24. kind of domestic and fluffy but not too fluffy because, well, its jacket
He came home covered in blood every. Single. Day.
It was stranger to see his letterman jacket washed and worn nicely over his shoulders than it was to see it soaked in gore—not his, you knew. You were aware of what he did for a living, if you could even call it that. You knew why he disappeared quietly every day before you woke up, picking one out of various masks he'd left in a box shoved into the back of the closet in his room. He was so taciturn you almost wondered if he was being considerate or just unwilling to share himself with you. Not that he had any choice, what with you basically living with him.
What you hadn't understood was how someone like him, with hands eternally muddled with blood, could be so patient with you, be so respectful of your space, or of you, for that matter.
When Jacket stumbled into the recording room, you expected him to kill you. It was a safe assumption at the time, considering he'd murdered one of the mobsters right in front of your eyes.
Damn , you thought, what a way to go out, on some stupid porno set.
You hadn't even bothered begging for your life. Rather, you laid there, eyes following the masked man as he stood over your half-naked form.
“Yeah, just get it over with,” you muttered, exhaustion and tears tugging your eyelids closed. “I won't struggle or anything.”
Vaguely, you remembered being taken to his car instead. He draped his jacket over you in the backseat, which you appreciated and would have appreciated even more if you hadn't been suppressing gags at the sight, smell, and feel of the unidentifiable fluids he'd gotten on it.
The ride home was been silent. He hadn’t looked back once, either. As you followed the blurred street lights past the windows, you sat up and managed to catch his attention.
“What’s your name?”
The car rolled to a stop at the light. You drew his jacket over your shoulders tightly, feeling vulnerable when he finally tossed his rooster mask onto the passenger seat beside him. Dirty blond hair. Surprising, a little unfitting. His pointer finger tapped the wheel mindlessly, and eventually, he paused before giving you a response.
“Jacket’s fine.”
“Jacket? Really?” You scoffed faintly and let yourself fall back onto the seat. Reminded of the situation you found yourself in, you quickly let go of your irritable demeanor. “Okay. Jacket,” you mused to yourself softly.
The rumble of the car led you into a light sleep, and it had shaken you out of it when the engine stopped completely. The door opened upwards, something interesting in all of this mess, and Jacket wordlessly beckoned for you to come closer when you had pushed yourself up against the opposite door. You shook your head. His hand withdrew to his side as he stepped parallel to the door, inviting you out.
His face told you absolutely nothing. A blank stare, maybe a bit tired, maybe even a bit hopped up on some random drug, but relatively neutral. It was shocking that he had even given you the courtesy of choice. Maybe that was just common decency. You wouldn't know. Either way, you took his offer, creeping out of the vehicle slowly, hesitantly, and flinching when he had shut the door behind you.
Jacket let you walk yourself along behind him. You let him lead you. He hadn’t asked for his jacket back, nor had he told you where you were going, but from the looks of it, he lived in the shabby apartments he parked in front of. It was better than nothing, right?
Said apartment did, in fact, meet your bottom-of-the-barrel expectations. The only AC was a wall unit that he hadn’t even bothered to turn on in the middle of a Florida summer, and even that was covered in a thin layer of dust and other unidentifiable spatters of food. A couple of pizza boxes sat in the corner of the kitchen near the trash can, lazily kicked aside by the man lingering cautiously by the door as he locked it. Behind him, the wall was covered in scratches and stains from God knows what.
You weren’t been able to think of anything to say. He only got the pleasure of your wide-eyed, weary stare, but he hadn’t commented on it, opting to shuffle to a door across the hall and giving you one last glance.
“I’ll get you a blanket.”
You nodded. The couch was where you assumed you’d be sleeping, but with how filthy it was, you favored the thought of using the blanket as a mattress cover instead.
From inside the pitch-black room, he emerged again, this time with a knitted white blanket—you didn’t even know if you could consider it a blanket any more than it was just a sheet. You thanked him anyway, trying your best to smile at him, even just a bit. He returned it with a small wave, then retreated and softly closed the door behind him.
A lonely hush had fallen over the apartment. Tears formed in your eyes. All alone in Miami, no family, no friends. Some way to start out. You collapsed face-first onto the couch, curling yourself into the crevice where the back and sitting cushions met. The couch itself smelled odd, like corn chips and dust, but you couldn’t have cared less—at least you had somewhere to crash.
You didn’t even put the sheet over it.
That was almost two weeks ago. Since then you haven’t bothered to ask how long you’d be able to stay or what exactly he planned on doing with you. Jacket hasn’t mentioned it either, so you can only assume it’s until he decides he wants you gone.
On the other hand, never did you think you’d be sitting at a lopsided table across from a mass murderer having breakfast. His situation was unknown to you, with the killings and whatnot, but as long as you were alive, it didn’t really matter, did it?
“No… work today?” The late morning light catches on your utensils. You angle it to shine into his hair. You blind him accidentally.
Jacket shrugs and blinks away the afterimage. Then he shakes his head, though not with much confidence. You fold your legs to rest your feet upon the chair you were seated on, leaning forward to take a spoonful of the off-brand cereal he had lying around in a cupboard.
He didn't say much else. He didn't say much, period. The only responses you'd get were the occasional “yeah”, “no”, or “I'm leaving”. The lattermost was reserved for departures later in the day, when the phone would beckon him away from the apartment. Usually, you noticed, he’d leave before afternoon set in. You’d wake up with him gone, and use the time to wander around the apartment, tidying up and going grocery shopping. Jacket was bright enough to at least give you some cash, but only after you had complained about the fridge being empty.
“No more pizza,” you had begged with pleading eyes, sitting cross legged on the couch. He only gave you a confused glance, but returned the phone to its receiver rest anyways. You breathed a sigh of relief.
In fact, he was relatively easy to persuade. You learned that pretty quickly. He didn’t complain when you hogged the bathroom trying to find some semblance of normalcy in your situation, or when you were still sleeping at 12 in the afternoon.
“Do you mind if I sleep in the bed in your room?” You ask abruptly through the thick silence, holding a spoonful of cereal to your lips. You look up at him through your lashes, eyes flicking between your bowl and his own face. The spoon is dropped back into the bowl as you swirl around the oats. “I noticed you have an extra bed, so…I dunno. Just asking.” Jacket cocks his head at you, then glances down to his own bowl, seemingly in deep thought.
Later that day you watch from the floor with an apple as he flips the mattress and lays a new fitted sheet on it for you. To add: this was the floor you had mopped just a couple days ago while he was away, and without a doubt was he surprised to find he was practically gliding across the tiles now. Pleasantly surprised? Hopefully.
The blond steps back to allow you a final view of your new, cozy dwelling. Definitely more desirable than the couch. You turn to him with a genuine smile and rise to your feet.
“Thank you,” you mumble with a piece of apple in your mouth. He nods. The man’s jaw twitches, as if he’s contemplating words about to leave his mouth, then leaves you to decorate the bed as you please.
You can’t help but refrain from cleaning up his side of the room as well. You made it off limits to yourself until you gained some sense of familiarity with the man, but now you just wanted to feel safe–with him, you did, at least knowing what he was capable of, and that was good enough to settle for.
The next morning you mull over how strange it is to be waking up next to someone who, a mere 2 weeks ago, was a total stranger to you. You tossed and turned through the night, still plagued with dreams of the drug house he plucked you out of so suddenly, and barely caught a blink of sleep–evident on your face the next morning.
You turn to your left only to be met with his sleeping form, just about to let the sunshine peeking through the blinds wake him up. He doesn’t notice you scurry out of the room before that happens, uncertain as to whether you were quite at that point yet.
It’s only 7am–way too early for you to be awake, but going back into his room is not an option. His room. Not really yours yet, you note.
You decide to make breakfast instead. Frowning at what’s in the fridge, the only viable option seems to be eggs and a couple pieces of toast with butter. As you fix yourself a simple meal, you consider pulling out another 2 eggs and another piece of toast. The clock ticks, reading exactly 7:20.
As if on queue, you’re met with a bewildered and half-asleep Jacket, hands reaching to scratch eagerly at his hair. He stops in his tracks as he notices the very obvious individual sitting quietly, neatly at his table, having made themselves at home with a modest breakfast. His focus shifts from you, to the plate across from you, then back to you with a familiar tilt of his head.
“You don’t like eggs?” You fold your hands under your chin anxiously and furrow your brows at him. “I can make something else if you…”
A shake of his head cuts you off. Jacket rubs his palms into his eyes. He shambles slowly to the chair, and you watch with curiosity as he slumps into it, shoulders leaned forward . His eyes nearly shut once more as he picks up the fork, which looks more like an anvil by the way he lifts it. A smile of amusement crosses your face when he shoves almost half of the eggs into his mouth. His hand raises after a beat, giving you a half-assed, but well-meaning thumbs up.
You eat in silence.
The week after that you propose a new idea to him during an evening that had enveloped the apartment in a fiery orange.
“I should get a job.”
You turn to him and tap a finger on the floor beneath you. The two of you found it was the best spot for a bit of video game time, and with the beds having been pushed together, it could almost compare to the stiff couch in the living room. You found comfort in sleeping a bit closer now, and sometimes abandoned your bed altogether to shift onto his side. Not that he ever said anything about it, even going so far as to let you hog the one massive blanket that replaced the separate sheets on each bed.
An unspoken habit was established to have at least an hour where you would watch him play one of the various games he had for the console beside the staticy CRT television he bought new a few days ago. Sometimes he’d even let you try, guiding you through various obstacles of the colorful worlds on the screen, and you were more than happy to oblige in a bit of fun.
Jacket stares at you. You can’t tell if it’s one of disapproval, or one of interest, because he only continues to leer until you finish your thoughts.
“I don’t think whatever money you’re getting from…somewhere is enough for both of us. I just want to help a bit.”
Jacket shakes his head a bit too fast and turns back to the bright screen. You watch on as his character, clad in yellow and red, maneuvers around what looks to be strange aliens bouncing around the screen.
“‘S fine,” he mumbles, clicking away at the buttons on his NES. He spares you a quick glance before pausing the game. “Don’t worry about it.”
You unravel your legs to rest in front of you, idly flicking and tugging at a string of lint trailing off his pants. “I do though.” He pays no mind when you yank it off roughly.
Jacket hands you the controller. It’s warm from holding it for so long.
“I’ll take care of things,” he finally mutters, pressing a button on the gamepad that unpauses it for you. You hum in response, deciding to take him for his word, and mash at the buttons on the controller just like he did.
4 days later you figure out how to make homemade chicken noodle soup. It wasn’t Michelin star material, but it was certainly better than cereal and eggs and whatever basic ingredients the two of you had been scrounging for in the fridge. Jacket was even willing to help of his own accord. You should’ve realized, in retrospect, how difficult it would be to direct someone who has no culinary skills. Zero.
“Do you know how to cut celery?”
“No.”
“Okay, well, you have to…” You turn away from the chicken you were shredding. Jacket’s already massacring the vegetable, cutting it unevenly, almost mashing it. “That works, I guess.”
“Still tastes the same, right?”
“Sure,” you scoff with a smile. He taps your shoulder. Presented to you is a cutting board full of what looks to be about 5 stalks of sliced celery. “Oh, wow, that’s…a lot. You like celery?”
He shrugs with a crooked, subtle grin, and squeezes in next to you to dump the contents of the board into the pot. It’s filled to the brim now, and you quickly set the lid on before it boils over.
“This’ll be more than enough for the week,” you say with a pleased sigh, leaning on the white-tiled counter. “You are a great helper, you know that?”
You give him a double thumbs up and a nod of approval. Jacket mirrors you with a goofy, almost mocking smile. He’s shoved back playfully, and before long is cowering in the corner with his hands up in self-defense while you assault him with an extra celery stalk.
June 8th, the calendar in the kitchen says. Only a week later, and you’ve already gotten decorating privileges. Written in the box are a few things: Grocery shopping–need milk , pay electric bill , and laundry.
The two of you have been living in near silence up to this point, something you’ve gotten used to, and have even found comfort in. He doesn’t ask much of you, you don't ask much of him, and both of you are completely content. And on this day, you step out of the bathroom holding a wet towel in your arms just in time to meet him on his departure.
“Going out?”
“Work calls.” Jacket plucks his namesake off the hook by the door. As he zips it up, you run a hand through your wet hair unconsciously.
“Oh.”
His eyes follow you through the mask as you scuffle up to him, holding the towel between the two of you, almost as a barrier. The answering machine replays a message from a voice you don’t recognize. It’s too quiet to make out any words, and the caller doesn’t sound urgent.
Jacket stuffs his hands into his pockets, impatiently, yet intrigued all the same. Your gaze skims over the large ‘B’ on the left breast of his letterman sweater. You’d never thought to ask what it stood for until now, curiously.
You wring your hands together, then give him a tender, uncertain hug.
“Uh…be safe,” you blurt awkwardly, head tilted up to avoid muffling your words. His eyes are hidden behind the mask he had chosen today–a rooster. It seemed to be one of his favorites.
He doesn’t return it right away, but when he does, it catches you off guard just how tight he holds you, with one hand behind your head and the other on your lower back. You turn your head so as to not crush your nose, and you can feel his chin resting on the crown of your head. It’s too intimate to not be intentional, and yet, as usual, it isn’t mentioned when you pull away.
“I will.” His voice is stifled through the fabric. You smile sheepishly, then hold out your pinkie.
He wavers for a moment, then raises his own finger to intertwine it with yours.
Jacket wasn’t able to keep his wordless promise, because that morning, little did he know, was the last he’d see of you–alive, at least.
Prior to this job, he’d gotten a message that was different from usual; kill a single man. Not a floor, not a building. A single man, face concealed under a teal biker helmet and a lot more confidence than he should have had. The way he held himself reeked of ego. Jacket didn’t particularly care, but if it meant it would make his job difficult, he’d need to pull out all the stops. As he came face to face with the biker, it was easy to remember why he didn’t just let himself get mauled here and then. Someone was waiting at home for him, someone important–the biker could never understand that, and therefore, wouldn’t have the same determination Jacket would.
Apparently the helmet-clad boy wasn’t as dumb as he looked, and put up a fair fight, swiping with impressive speed at anything he could reach. Dodging his swipes was becoming more of a chore than a task. He couldn’t swing forever, Jacket realized, but damn was he taking forever to burn off all that energy.
The biker even had the audacity to call his opponent ‘dead meat’, and as lame as that was, for a second he almost believed his words when his knife grazed the sleeve of his jacket. Nothing more than a scratch, but still a little frightening.
So when they both mutually decided enough was enough, forfeiting their weapons in favor of coddling their wounds, each inwardly thought they’d spared their opponent by crawling away, bloodied and bruised, but alive nonetheless. He’d never failed an errand assigned to him before, and he hadn’t intended on letting that happen today, but that damn helmet guy was just too good, too competent to let himself be knocked to the floor via a pistol flying straight at his face.
Jacket knew, however, the biker didn’t have someone to go back home to, someone to relieve him of his wounds and take care of the weeping gashes in his skin. It was something to look forward to after an exhausting day on the job, if you could even call it that when the money he got was picked off corpses around the building.
Going up the stairs today felt strange. His footsteps echo louder than usual; it's just a bit colder tonight. In fact, it was strange to suddenly have someone put a hit out on him, considering he knew almost no one in this giant city.
Something was off, he knew, and he figured he’d ask you if any shady business had taken place around the building or if anyone had visited earlier.
He wonders if you left the door unlocked with the way handle twists easily to the right. He also ponders if you had let something go rotten in the fridge, by the smell lingering in the apartment. Then it hits him.
Someone did pay you a visit, and he’s greeted with two things: a man in a rat mask, and another surprise–your corpse.
A tiny part of him isn’t surprised. Some harm was bound to come your way sooner or later, but Jacket never imagined his chance to tell you what was to come would pass him by so easily.
As he stares down the mess of blood and brain matter, his shock turns to dread, then to anger. At least the bastard had the decency to give you a clean shot, so he can assume you didn’t suffer long, if at all, and that was the most he could’ve hoped for.
But this isn’t what he wanted for you in the first place. You didn’t deserve this, or ask for any of this. You were blissfully unaware from the start.
When he took you away from the filthy people who were using you, he had only wanted the best for you, really. He planned to support you first, himself second, and let you go should you ever wanted to leave. But you never did. Jacket hadn’t ever met someone who showed genuine interest and pleasure in talking to him, other than his military partner–who, like you, was dead before he could say goodbye.
He forces himself to rip his attention away from your battered body to the man who had made himself right at home, arms thrown over the back of the couch like he was an old friend just in for a visit. To say the way the murderer sat on his– your couch so comfortably irked Jacket was an understatement, as if he’d somehow defiled the ghost of you that wept on that couch, laughed on that couch, spent their last moments rising from it to answer the door only to be greeted with the barrel of a gun.
Jacket doesn’t notice nor acknowledge the gun in his grip until he gestures to Jacket with it and finally says something regarding the situation.
“Ah, there you are…” the rat begins, tapping his fingers against the headboard of the couch. Jacket’s hands clench into fists, but the rat pays them no mind. “I was wondering when you'd be getting back. Well, let's get this over with then.”
Before Jacket can even reach for the pistol he left near the door, the armed man heaves himself off the couch with a sigh, raises his arm, and lifts the gun level with Jacket’s head.
warnings: gore, mild violence, female slurs, mentally ill!reader, breeding kink, overstim, use of Daddy (by Gluskin), eddie gluskin x fem!reader
word count: 2,669
work - here comes the bride p1
Staring up at the ceiling as Eddie pulled you along, you tripped over a thick cord, making it TWANG loudly in the silence. The look he sent over your shoulder was less than amused, but he didn’t snap at you as he followed your gaze upwards.
“Low hanging fruit,’ he joked, before his expression darkened, voice going low with anger. “Loose moraled women, all of them. Not a single one of them would have known faithfulness if it bit them! They all tried to leave me. Or refused to try and survive a bit of surgery for our children.’
Eyes wide, your fingers ached from where his own squeezed your hand too tightly. The set of his jaw, the half snarl on his lips, Eddie was still handsome but now he looked dangerous. You watched him as you very carefully walked over cords to move closer to him. When he looked back to you, your wide eyes, the anger melted away.
“Oh… oh no, they’ve frightened you haven’t they, darling.’ The low croon was soothing, even though it hadn’t been the bodies at all. “I’m a fool, of course your delicate sensibilities would be horrified to the core at such obscenity.’
That wasn’t it, you weren’t horrified at all. Yes it was grotesque, but they were dead, carefully stepping over the rest of the thick cords. Wrapping your arms around his chest, you could feel his chuckle against your cheek rumbling.
“I don’t like heights.’ You finally whispered, looking up at the bodies hanging above.
“Ah, well then it’s very good I will always catch you should you fall.’ He paused as if considering. “From a ledge or somesuch. If you turn into some sort of fallen woman I’ll have to gut you, obviously. As it would gut me to find out my darling would betray me.’
His voice was so conversational, calm as if discussing what should or shouldn’t be bought at the store. Humming under his breath, he caught your hand again and gently placed a hand at your lower back to waltz out of the room. The cheerful mood was contagious, listening to him begin singing a song you didn’t recognize.
I don’t know much about her, and yet I know I love her…
You were all spun around, didn’t know which way you were going, but it didn’t matter with his voice ringing out in the dark.
Does she go la da da da I don’t care? I’ll say she does.
There was a brief jerk through his torso as his shoulders slammed back into a door to open it, his hand pressing you closer and turning to dip you low with a broad smile. Your fingers threaded with his, the others curled over his shoulder gripped tightly in surprise feeling the stitchwork as the fabric bunched. Light headed as he pulled you upright again, Eddie spun the two of you into the room.
And does she crave a wedding and everything? I’ll say she does!
You kept missing parts, you could tell, the words fading in and out of your mind and then greedily grasping at others. A gasp escaped you when he gave you a sharp shove, his grip tight on your wrist as you half spun before being yanked sharply back to his chest, held tightly as he lifted his other hand to skin his fingers along your cheek as he twisted your arm behind you to secure you.
Was she happy to get the ring? You bet she was.
Shoulder aching, you could feel his chest rising and falling as he stared down at you. He forced you backwards, the music in the air growing louder and at first you were confused. Eddie wasn’t singing, not anymore, but you could still hear the song. Unable to look away from him, you jumped when the backs of your calves hit something.
“You are happy, aren’t you darling? It is my top priority, your happiness.’
Voice a low croon, he finally released your arm and you fell backwards with a gasp only to find your fall arrested by a few thin pallets on a metal frame. Resting on your elbows, you watched as he leaned down, expression glowing with delight, possessive joy. A large hand moved to your waist, guiding you to scoot farther back onto the makeshift bed, sliding to spread his hand low on your belly.
“Well, I must admit it may not be my first priority,’ his fingers curled, the tips digging into you as his breathing shortened before he forced himself to calm. “But it is important that you’re happy, poor mood can affect a baby, you know? And we wouldn’t want a miserable child.’
“I’m…’ you paused, trying to sort through what you were feeling, staring up at his silhouette in the dark.
“I know! I know, I find myself struggling with words too. So hard to describe the joy I feel having found you.’ He leaned down to kiss you, his weight rested against your stomach, pressing, forcing you to lay back as he murmured against your lips. “But we will be so happy. I’ll fill you up until the joy simply spills out of you to make room for more.’
Your head landed on something firm, hands moving to Eddie’s shoulders as your brow furrowed in confusion. But he didn’t seem to notice, humming under his breath as he skimmed his lips along your cheek, to your ear. His hips pressed down, grinding himself above the thigh he’d straddled with a low groan that sent a wash of warmth down your body. As if the hot breath against your ear was able to reach further a few inches.
“I can already see you,’ his fingers spread wide before curling again, making your writhe before his hand relaxed and moved upwards to cup your breast. “Swollen with my child, glowing as all mothers do. You’re going to be so beautiful…’
When he pulled back, you were surprised by the cold expression on his face, squirming in an attempt to move away but the thing behind you rocked awkwardly. Sitting up, you looked behind you and found a torso, one of the pectorals sawed open and stuffed with what looked like cloth. One blink, and then another before feeling an arm wrap around you, fingers taking hold of your chin to turn your head.
The smile on his lips didn’t reach his eyes, though they crinkled at the edges. But now you’d seen it, knew what it was. Now you noticed other things, things that hadn’t filtered through before. The blanket under your hand was stiff with dried blood, there was a hand wearing a carefully stitched lace glove near your hip. You couldn’t unsee it, but you didn’t have to look at it, hands lifting to slide over his shoulders, twining your arms around his neck.
He seemed surprised, his expression cracking at the edges. Apparently he’d expected you to start screaming, or run away? But why would you? He loved you, had called you his darling, pulling yourself to press a kiss to his lips. And then another, chaste things that made him shiver, the hand on your breast squeezing until you gasped at the ache.
“My darling… You… you really are happy, aren’t you?’
When you nodded, he grinned broadly, hand moving to give a hard yank at the fabric covering your chest and you felt it tear. The collar left a burning line against the back of your neck, his fingers skimming along your collarbone, up to lightly grasp your throat as he kissed you. It was a hard kiss, your mouth opening to avoid your teeth cutting into your lips, and his tongue slid inside your mouth to playfully stroke along yours.
Your hips lifted as he tugged at the waistband of the thin fabric pants you wore, your legs pinned as he shifted, kneeling on them before finally managing to get them to your ankles. Fingers tugging at the bow tie at his throat, you fumbled at undoing it only to have your hands lightly slapped away.
“Oh no, darling. This is about you.’ A hand rested lightly on your thigh, sliding upwards making you shiver as his lips brushed yours when he spoke. “I want you eager for my seed, to make your body crave it so your womb can be its most fertile.’
You agreed, not fully understanding what that meant, his fingers dipping between your thighs and pressing two slowly inside. Knees bent, you fell back as he stroked, curling his fingers so the tips dragged over a bundle of nerves that sent waves of electric heat shooting through your body. He was humming again, blue eyes staring down at you as you writhed, your hands clutching at his shoulders trying to pull him down to you. But he was adamant, unmoving except for the thrusting of his fingers, his thumb slowly gliding back and forth over your clit.
“No need to be quiet darling, I want to hear you. Those delicate little whimpers, sweet whines… your… screams.’ A particularly rough grind of his thumb caused your whole body to jerk. “Scream for Daddy, darling.’
The pleasure coiled low in your belly, sparks racing through your veins, body shifting restlessly until the pleasure ignited, spine arching as your hips shamelessly rolled against his hand. It didn’t stop, and you felt the scream he’d requested building in your lungs, trapped there as your body went taut as a wire caught with an electric current. But then his fingers stilled inside you, pressing against that spot and grinding, his thumb harshly rubbing against your clit until you did. You screamed because it hurt, but it felt good to hurt, or was a good hurt, you couldn’t think, your legs kicking as you tried to move away.
“Now, now, no need to fuss, darling…’ you couldn’t breathe until he pulled his hand away, thighs trying to close. “That was wonderful, you… you looked so wonderful. The way you let me bring you to such reckless abandon against your better nature…’
His hand lifted to his mouth, licking his finger tips, chasing the wetness that had been forced under the fingerless gloves. You expected him to undress, watching him peel off first one glove, and then the other, but he didn’t. Tossing them aside, he maneuvered between your legs, hands rubbing along your thighs as he continued crooning how beautiful you looked. Where his fingertips were rough, his palms were soft, smoothing up your thighs to cup your hips. Squeezing, he dragged his nails down, a whine escaping you even as he slid his hand between your legs again his other hand forcing your thighs apart.
“Darling please, I know that a good girl like you is disgusted by this sort of depravity, but think of the children.’
He was relentless, bringing you again and again, until your throat was raw from screaming. And still he continued, raining kisses along your throat, his teeth savaging the skin when you clenched around his fingers. Your skin became slick, the dried blood sticking to your back as you shoved and clawed at him even as he crooned platitudes in your ear.
When he finally stopped, you sobbed with relief, staring up at him through wet eyelashes as he beamed down at you. Watched as he slowly finished pulling the tie from his throat, unfastened his vest, then unbuttoned his shirt to carefully set aside before reaching down to undo his slacks. Feeling the head of his cock pressing against you, you couldn’t help trying to scoot back, shoulders knocking against the torso behind you. His hips pressed, and you felt your already abused flesh slowly give way.
“I’ll need to ask for your forgiveness for putting you through this, but Daddy knows best.’ He purred through clenched teeth, shivers running down your spine as he forced each inch into you. “Finally finding you, someone worthy of bearing my children? I can’t believe how lucky I-’
It was too much, your entire body clenched, thighs rubbing against the fabric of his slacks. You lost track of what he was saying, it was just noise to you as he forced your body to take him to the hilt. His jaw scraped against yours, the beginnings of a five o’clock shadow as he let out a low groan when your inner walls pulsed around him.
But that was the end of his patience, that tired flutter of protest, his hips pulling back to thrust forward again drawing a harsh croak from your throat. You were wet, yes, but not enough, but he didn’t seem to notice slowly levering himself up on one arm, his elbow resting on the cot by your neck to drape his forearm over it making it hard to breathe.
“-wait to see our children, darling. I hope they have your eyes, and when you give me a son I’ll teach him-’
Distantly you could hear that he was still speaking, fading in and out like an old radio station. The hurt was slowly shifting into something else, your body reluctantly attempting to rally one last time. There was an ache spreading, even as Eddie’s cock slid easier. You couldn’t help wondering if the increasingly violent thrust of his hips had torn something, your hands scrambling to hold on to him as an orgasm carved its way through your body leaving you seeing white before everything went dark.
When you finally managed to open your eyes again, your head ached, realizing he’d tangled his fingers in your hair to angle your head back. His teeth had left several bites on your throat, his words sounding muffled. Hands weakly shoving at his shoulders, he lifted his head to grin at you, hints of red between his teeth, a smear of blood on his chin.
“You’re too good to Daddy, darling.’ He crooned, kissing you, and you could taste the blood on his tongue when it thrust into your mouth.
The pace shifted, you felt it, his teeth catching your lower lip as he panted. They were shorter, harder, your body screaming as it rocked with the power of them. Hands grasping at him, your nails dragged furrows down his back, his teeth biting down on your shoulder as he came. You’d thought you couldn’t feel anything, but the hot spurts trickled through the aches and throbbing, shifting beneath him even as his hips ground against yours as if trying to thrust in deeper.
“Golly…’ he rasped, weight slowly lowering as if he couldn’t keep his own weight supported.
Unable to speak yourself, you instead hid your face in the crook of his neck. Minor complaints from every inch of your body were making themselves known, and you knew that later it would be so much worse. The bite marks along your neck and upper chest throbbed, your abdomen felt like it was try to cramp but couldn’t muster the energy. And between your legs… You ached fiercely already, but still managed to wrap one of your legs around his, loathe to let him pull out of you.
“Just give me a moment, darling.’ His hand lazily stroked along your side, pressing a kiss to your ear. “I’m sorry I… spent myself so quickly, I’ll do better next time.’
Your heart stuttered in your chest. Quickly? When he rolled on to his side, he took you with him, nuzzling your throat, an arm tight around your waist. Even then he seemed to make sure that he didn’t pull out, his arm moving, hand sliding along your ass to pull you other leg to his hip.
“Give me… a moment to catch my breath.’ Another kiss, this time to your cheek. “I know the act is distasteful for you, such a good, darling girl. But we simply must endeavor.’
You felt him smile when you hesitated for a moment before nodding. It was, after all, your honeymoon.
a/n - The song is another Al Jolson song “I’ll say she does” because no one can convince me Eddie doesn’t know every single one of Jolson’s songs
(pwp or something idk. just got horny in the tags of my last post about eddie not looking anywhere else but at his wife and only his wife while doing his husbandly duties.)
cw: female reader, sex, eddie's orbs, overuse of the word staring because I want you to start feeling annoyed and maim this man, slight yandere (maybe if you squint?) cheesy and unfunny frank valli reference at the end.
———
he's staring at you again.
Eyes fogged with a love sick haze in them at the absolute sight of you, his wife, all warm, soft, and pliant under him. You try to close your eyes from time to time, but even when you open them again— it just comes back to the first thing you see which is this man on top of you, mouth switching between grinning and gasping, and eyes wide open.
"...Eddie?"
He hums tenderly. "What is it, dear?"
"I-I.. can you just-"
It's so hard to talk when his hips don't stop moving despite his concern. The weight and absolute mass of him on top of you and grounding you into the bed with each thrust makes it all the more harder to think straight.
Thoughts on how to sound out your request begin to blur and buzz out with him fucking into you like this. In and out, in and out, inside of you. over and over again as he buries himself deep within your cunt. your pubic bone practically connecting with his, and sending sparks of heat inside your belly with each time he ruts himself into you.
"Just what? What does my darling wife want?" He starts searching your face for any indication or answer to complete it for you what you want him to do now. Still looking at you intensely.
Looking. He keeps looking. Which is, sort of the thing you wanted to point out in the first place.
"You're... o-oh- oh-"
"I...?" he acts as if he's not quite catching on. Pondering for a second with the sounds of your moans and wanton sighs, and the creaking of the worn out bed acting as background noise to aid his thinking.
"Oh! I'm doing a swell job is that it? Is that what you're trying to say, dearest?" he lets out a content loving sigh, and your breathe stutters as he picks up his pace. "You and your words never fail to make me blush, my love."
Another particularly good thrust has you arching your back, of which he's making sure his eyes connect with yours once more while you writhe and wiggle underneath. But your wriggling quickly eases from bodily pleasure, to slowly morphing into a sense of discomfort now.
Because he's staring at you.
Again.
Which should be good isn't it? Eye contact during sex is a sign after all of a good partner paying attention to your needs. And with someone like Eddie, him paying attention to your needs is the tiniest sliver of hope you cling onto to make sure his reason for keeping you alive is a bit more... cemented, substantial even. Gives you a little bit more reason (or delusion) to believe he'd be inclined to make this relationship, make you, last longer.
(Compared to the alternative route of him using your body for his own sick dispositions, and casually stringing you all up when he's done.)
Though you're sure that this is not the type of bedroom eye contact many normally wish for.
"Y-you... you're.." you try to murmur out again.
Not that you should talk about having anything normal with this man. You might as well find the solution to world hunger long before you find anything even remotely "normal" in this place.
It's not that you're expecting him to do things normally, but can't he... can't he just... do something else maybe?
Look anywhere but you for just a split second, maybe bury himself into your neck, or close his own eyes to focus on the feeling of his cock getting squeezed, or look at any other part of your body that could possibly entrance him; mouth, chest, stomach... hell, you could even hope that he tries to glance down at your clit? Maybe marvel at the sight of where the two of you connect, since that's all his fucked up baby fever mind thinks about anyways?
You'll take anything really, just one small thing to act as a reminder that you guys are indeed having... sex— and not engaging in some sort of impromptu staring contest out of nowhere.
Because his eyes are doing absolutely nothing but looking into your own and as they continue staring at you.
and staring at you...
and staring...
and staring...
and staring...
Jesus fucking christ you don't think he's even blinked in the past few seconds anymore.
You let out a mix of a whine and a groan, opting to shut your eyelids close and try to shield your face away from his unmoving eyeballs by trying to wiggle your hands free out of his grasp (him and his damn insistence to hold hands while making love as he calls it.).
"What is it my love? Must I pay you a penny for your thoughts perhaps?"
"You keep staring... "
You try to wiggle free again, inadvertently adding onto the delightful friction between your parts and his— to which he gets a small shiver of his own at the roll of your hips. A light laugh escapes him at your captivating and somewhat fruitless display. He finally gives reprieve to your brain's rising fear of being uncannily perceived at, and blinks.
"Ohhh, my darling."
He lets go of one of your hands so that he can cradle your face, tilting it so he can capture your mouth into a kiss. humming into your mouth, but the humming isn't just the usual sighs of pleasure, as you can pick up the movement of him saying some words.
He pulls apart from his half kissing-half speaking into your mouth, as he slowly begins to playfully laugh again.
"You can't blame a man for looking at his wife when she's like this; all breathless and beautiful, now can you? I sure can't!"
Said wife that he just knows for certain was sent down by god all-mighty himself into the 7th circle of hell named "mount massive asylums".
When Eddie sees you, he can't help but imagine your rotting carcass somewhere else. An alternate place where those filthy bastards could have gotten their hands on you, torn you limb from limb (if they didn't have the patience to pull your teeth and your eyes out first), then have their way with using your dead body as a urinal afterwards.
You must have been scared to not have your dear husband around to protect you from all the nasty violence around the asylum, weren't you darling?
No, no. No meed to fret now and get your panties in a twist! None of that here. Not when your dear ol' Eddie is here now.
You are very much alive and perfect, preserved by your own sheer dumb luck or maybe by fate itself to be kept alive long enough for him. Just him.
And under his care, your body is experiencing the furthest thing from excruciating physical pain right now, isn't it darling? Feels good, yes? To have your husband make love to you like the passionate man he is. Lest he's supposed to take in the sight of you rolling your eyes back and your legs hooking around his waist, pulling him in for more as something otherwise?
Oh goodness him... It's almost too good to be true.
